Tony and the Nefway

(Note – itksaurpok means ‘love obsession/crush’ in the Intuit language) 

I had listened to the Earth spinning for much too long. 

Hours must have passed, and Zane still had not come. The smothering silk of night stood hushed in my coop, submerging me into the hollow of my own vexation. An uncanny stillness had taken over the lighthouse and, at long last, I pushed through the wires and took off, swooping through the winds as they bellowed along the Arctic mountains.

The higher I flew, the darker the Earth grew in my wake. A globular, raging sphere of waves, it incubated wistfully below me the culmination of all avian weariness, stranded as we will always be in this unforgiving place. 

My wings stretched away from my elongated body, the extrinsic and intrinsic muscles working in jubilant unification as they beat the air. This was the feeling I always missed whilst waiting inside the lighthouse; the unfurling of my tight scapulars, the extension of my coverts to their mighty fullness, free now to expand naturally without the limits of the lantern room. I watched as the copula slowly faded into the darkness; a dome of eery blue, it blurred against the obsidian waves like a glowing glass marble. It housed inside it the beacon-light, safely protected like the yolk of an unfertilised egg. All humanness vanished from my view as I elapsed the precipice between the rain and the clouds, contented, and witnessed the shades of Earth’s vast night departing before the flickering terror of the storm.

Up here – suspended dutifully above the land that they would soon come to charge – hovered the Nefway.

Eight fierce and rugged sea-birds, Barry of the North Wind sailed with a conch shell encircled in his broad Fulmer talons; Carl, a Glaucous gull of the North-Eastern Wind, held upright a massive shard of ice, always staying close to the freezing upper-air; Rafferty of the Eastern Wind had feathers as clean and pure as any snow-goose, but would swiftly soak them red if duty so called; Edward of the South-Eastern Wind wore a fishing net around his Kittiwake neck, a token of pride from having ripped his way out of a mound of sea-trash, that most depressing icon of human indolence; Nick, the Nefway’s youngest, an Auk, had the duty of scouting for unaccompanied hatchlings over the Southern regions; Liam was a Skua, and watcher of the South-West Wind, who’s duty was to swoop low into the human ships and spy on their plans; Sky, female guillemot of the North-Western Wind, was the great witch of the Arctic Gloom; Zane, red-throated Loon of the West Wind, was a winsome and spirited collector-of-items. 

The Nefway drifted in their unbreakable line below the stars, eagerly chatting to each other of this and that, their tousled feathers blasting around in the raging gales as they tried to devise a plan. Always keeping a watchful eye on the lighthouse and its nearby residents, ready to swoop down into the channels of their respective winds whenever the moment demanded it of them, these birds hung about like a clan of celestial soldiers at the darkening edges of the world. Nick was sweet-voiced, Liam was mellow, Sky was tense and brooding, but no matter what differences defined each bird from the other, they all together harmonised like pieces of drifting ice that slotted together to form an indestructible foundation. So absorbed in their chatter, they did not see me rise before them.

Zane and I had been close friends for a long time. When I called to him, he did not seem troubled. He was a wild animal under his optimistic and moonish appearance, and I could not hold him to my demands even if I tried. 

“Tony, old friend, what brings you to the higher corners? Your duty is below!” Zane yelled as he flew nowhere in the tangle of wind, his body a rolling mass of muscles under his tawny feathers. His face had grown large in recent years, broadened with the eagerness of his duty. Auburn feathers curled out from under his neck, only adding to the cocksure charisma that exuded from him like a quasar, so bright under the dark curtains of the storm. I felt a twinge as the image of Mo’s auburn eyes invaded my mind. 

“I called for you from the lighthouse but you must not have heard me.” I kept the tone of my voice unvaried so I did not risk offending him. As part of the Nefway, I knew how mercurially my comrades could change their priorities, always serving their pride first against all other things.

“My apologies, it is loud here,” he squawked, his orange beak clapping with each word as he motioned toward his fellows, “Troops! The Hunter of Hearts returns to us!” 

Seven chirping laughs clattered around on the winds, eight joyful grins turned to me, sixteen twinkling eyes fell on the Hunter of Hearts. A nickname given to me in my teenhood, when my blue Gryfalcon eyes and grey-white feathers grew famous among the females, I did not recede when it was used. In fact, such a name bonded me to these military birds and solidified my place among them in their games of respite. I grinned back.

“Good evening.” I swung a wing in greeting, and they each raised a cheery wing before returning to their chatter. Zane had glided close enough now for us to talk privately. 

“I ask a favour of you. I need help with Mo-“ I began, but Zane cut me off.

“His iktsuarpok! The Hunter of Hearts asks me for a favour with his itksuarpok!” he guffawed, raising his voice for the others to hear. They cast their gaze across to us, eyebrow-feathers lifting. This story will be retold in full later on, I knew.

“She scorns me. I have been a fool, Zane.”

“You know I do not share your delight in females, friend. But still, tell me what happened.”

“I tripped over the water bowl while watching her.”

At this, the youthful bird-of-the-West-wind collapsed into a fit of laughter, the kind of all-consuming chortle that shakes the body and bends the back, his fiery eyes brimming with happy tears. I rubbed the back of my head awkwardly with my wing and waited for his convulsions to subside. 

“Show me the wound” he asked, pushing down the last of his windy giggles. I raised some of my feathers, revealing the slanted puncture on my breast, still wet with blood from where Mo had clipped me in her fury.

“It won’t heal” I groaned, and he understood.

“So, what do you need me to do?”

“She resides on a mountain top – you know it, the peak that holds the moon in its dip when it shines at its fullest – and I ask that you bring her down to the lighthouse in the darkness, before this storm ends.”

Zane’s brow lifted; his mouth shaped itself into a little ‘O’, as though he carried within his beak a barnacle. I knew how it looked. Us mighty birds had no need to hide from the judgement of others when partaking in the challenges of love. We took pride in carrying out our hard duties in the light of the sun, in the whisp of the breeze, in the might of the storms. Coops were built by the humans to ensure our survival; such was the importance of our existence here, alongside this group of ‘captivities’ who needed our help and protection. Most of the sea-birds who frequented our rocks and lighthouse were shy, gaining much of their satisfaction from watching the ripple of waves while we, the Nefway, spent our days and nights battling the dangers of the sea even in such wretched, gruelling conditions, providing a secure home for the flock no matter what it took. 

“I can get her there safely in the winds, there’s no doubt about that. But should you not seek her out yourself? Go to her home, apologize in front of the group, her family, whoever, as is respectable?”

I fixed my gaze away from Zane’s judging face and attempted a lie.

“If I go to her craggy rock, she will find out who I truly am. The older birds have seen me in the skies above the lighthouse – they will tell her I belong to the Nefway. If she were to know my true rank, she may obsess over my prestige. I would not be rid of her for many years. She would trespass on my duty, tempt me into family life.”

Zane narrowed in on me. I felt the burden of his stare with such an intensity that I once again locked my eyes on his. 

He had an innocent face, but it was so full of discernment. 

“I think, my friend, that if she were to know it, you would place a great burden on her.”

I cast my cyan eye beyond Zane, to the line of majestic birds who hovered so insistently against the wrathful urgency of nature. The ocean below us had turned filthy with dark and slime, enraged, as though the sun would never penetrate it again. The mountain ridges had become a gloomy dwelling, permeated by a numbing chill and shrouded in thick darkness. How long would the nature-battle last this time? The storm, which throws clusters of shellfish against the rocks, their soft insides spilling out into the sea, wasted, to feed none, even as the starving chicklings watch from the safety of their rock cavities?

Life was not easy here. 

It was known that the Nefway die first and die youngest, that bravery and duty have a cost, that we were a risky choice for any female who wished to mate-for-life. How could we love, and ask for love, when the price that would eventually need to be paid by all was so great?

The ninth member of the Nefway, the fiercest band of wild-birds to ever guard the Arctic lighthouse, I had watched over the ice tornados that threatened our resources here for many years. But things had changed with the introduction of that small flock of ‘captivities’. Things had changed when Mo had flown up to our lighthouse, somewhat dozily in her eagerness to make friends, and I had recognised a long-lost innocence in her eyes, an innocence I used to possess, one which somehow lived on so vibrantly in her, even as a fully-grown and highly-intelligent female. For a long time, I had wrestled with my pride. I knew why her eyes held such treasure in them. She was innocent because she had not seen the merciless destruction that nature could unleash. Born to a cage, she knew nothing of the wild, nothing of the preservation of life against such odds.

Zane flew off, soaring upwards on level wings. 

My comrades called to me. It was time. 

But then…

First the North wind went silent, and then the East. 

The South-flowing wind stilled, the North-Western wind stopped, no clouds moved. 

There was a quality to the silence like a held breath. 

A break in the storm. 

From below, a great whirling sound suddenly shook the universe.

My wings froze and, as I began to drop from the sky, my mind caught up. I realised what was happening, what the swirling sound was. It was rare up at this height, but not impossible.

My comrades were puzzled. 

They did not ever think beyond their own posts.

“Ice tornado!” I screeched, flapping my wings and soaring to the coldest part in the sky, which I knew would soon form the centre of the tornado. The others squawked and swooped to join me, chasing as I tipped my beak to face the ground. I hurled myself down the icy tunnel with the eight courageous birds in close pursuit.

Layers of pale-blue ice-sheets twisted to form a spiral around us, which spun with monstrous sound and at a blurring speed. The other birds followed as I turned this way and that, navigating with precision our way to safety. The dome of the lighthouse came into view at the end of the tunnel, a tiny blue dot which shone with the lustre of day in the compressed darkness of the ocean-side night. They followed me, their breasts panting and their wings frantic, through the freezing tornado’s side. 

I landed gracefully inside the lantern room, whereas the others (who were so used to the vastness of the sky) crashed in with a clunk. 

For a moment, I saw our perfect differences.

“Tony, how long will it last?” Barry’s gruff voice came from the window pane, where he lay folded over himself.

“No more than a few moments” I answered. 

“You did well” said Carl, with a short nod. The eight birds got up off the floor, shaking the dizziness from their heads and dusting down their feathers.

“And I thought I liked ice. That was unpleasant” grimaced Sky, her voice prickly as always.

“I’m glad you were there when you were, that could’ve taken a turn” Nick sniffed, still startled even as he placed a soft wing on my shoulder.

“Ahem.”

All nine of us spun round to discover Mo standing in the glare of the beacon-light. 

Panic struck me like a dagger and I openly searched her eyes, in my utter horror, scanning for something I was only half-comprehending.

But I could find nothing. 

No fury nor surprise. I quickly remembered our argument and my face twisted in embarrassment, but I worked hard to compose myself in front of the others, to hold firm as a member of the mighty Nefway.

The Nefway.

‘Yes, I know” Mo barked, her wings on her hips, “you think I am stupid and that I see nothing, but you are wrong.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid…” the words blundered from my mouth.

“Yes, you do, all of you military birds with your posts and your discipline. You think those of us who were reared in captivity are useless and simple, and yet here you are hiding in the shelter of the humans. I have seen you all eat and drink from this place. And with my relaxed predisposition, I felt the conditions for a potential tornado hours ago.”

The storm cracked overhead and the wind began its sorrowful wailing again, like an injured seal in the sky. The rain pelted against the glass windows, a grey cascade of battering drops casting us into total darkness but for the revolving beacon-light. 

We were warm inside the lighthouse. 

I couldn’t help but grin.

“Why are you smiling?” Liam asked, his eyes glancing to me. Zane answered. 

“Because he loves her.”

In the passing light, I saw Sky roll her eyes and Barry look awkwardly at his talons. I waited, breath held tight in my chest, waited for anyone to speak, to release me from my burden. 

In the end, it was she who would go on to release me from the pains of life in the Arctic, the pains of life as an avian, the pains of life in all its ways, who would speak now and save me from myself. 

“I have come,” Mo sighed, “to hear you.”

The others sifted away down the spiralling staircase. 

We were alone. 

I took a breath.

“I have seen the moon grow to the size of a whale, dip into the waves and turn all the water white with the intensity of its shine. I have witnessed a million fizzing, golden comets wheel through the heavens, and seen the green flash of the sun as it is doused by the sea. I have seen thousands of granite rays cut through the currents in the warmer months, and basked at the glowing algae which swam under their wings. Caves filled with stalagmites and crystals have risen from the ocean in low tides, visible for only minutes each day and sparkling like hidden treasure. I see that same treasure in your eyes, except you contain none of the cold, wet, hardness of this world and none of its flightiness either. Compared to every beauty I have ever seen on this Earth, you are incomparable.”

Her expression was unreadable and I wondered if I’d overshot it.

“Yes, well. Pretty words, but I could’ve guessed that from you staring at me earlier today.”

The words cut like a knife, but I admired her astuteness all the same.

“I was watching how you move” I said, to which her eyes narrowed with a fierceness possessed only by females, “I mean, I was watching what animates you. How you stand and walk, the way you conduct yourself. I’m sorry.”

She considered me for a moment.

“You are part of the Nefway.” 

It wasn’t a question, but I answered her aloud. “Yes.”

“I will take the risk” she nodded, as though it were a simple fact of life. I took her gently by the wings.

‘You understand my commitments to the Nefway? There is no one else here who knows how to deal with the ice tornados like I do. I have a duty to protect the flock.”

Mo moved closer to me until her Phalarope breast feathers were curled into mine.

“The wild is merciless and unforgiving, but I can learn to navigate it. Captivity was safe and comfortable, but perhaps you could learn a little about that, too.”

The Arctic wind howled around the lighthouse tower, spinning in time with the far-reaching light of its enormous bulb.