Untamed

weird croaking, but it wasn't any less annoying.
    No, maybe annoying wasn't the right word for the sound. Creepy. Creepy was exactly the right word for the sound.
    "You hear that, don't you?" I said.
    "The raven? Yeah."
    "Raven? I thought it was a crow."
    "No, I don't think so. If I remember correctly, crows caw, but a raven's cry is more like the croaking of toads." Damien paused, and the bird croaked a few more times. It sounded closer, and its ugly voice caused goose bumps to rise on my arms. "Yep, that's definitely a raven."
    "I don't like it. And why is it being so noisy? It's winter—it couldn't be mating, could it? Plus, it's night. Shouldn't it be asleep?" I peered out into the darkness as I spoke, but didn't see any of the stupid noisy birds, which wasn't so unusual. I mean, they're black and it is night. But that one raven seemed to fill the sky around me, and something about its abrasive call made my skin shiver.
    "I really don't know very much about their habits." Damien paused, looked carefully at me. "Why is it bothering you so much?"
    "I heard wings flapping before, when whatever it was came at me. And it just feels creepy. Don't you feel it?"
    "I don't."
    I sighed and thought he was going to tell me that maybe I needed to get a handle on my stress and my imagination, but he surprised me by saying, "But you're more intuitive than I am. So if you say the bird feels wrong, I believe you."
    "You do?" We were at the steps of the stable, and I stopped and turned to him.
    His smile was full of familiar warmth. "Of course I do. I believe in you, Zoey."
    "Still?" I said.
    "Still," he said firmly. "And I've got your back."
    And just like that, the raven stopped croaking and the shivery creepiness I'd been feeling seemed to drift away with it.
    I had to clear my throat and blink hard before I could manage to say, "Thanks, Damien."
    Then Nala's grumpy old woman cat voice "mee-uf-owed" at me as my fat little orange cat padded out of the darkness to twine herself around Damien's legs.
    "Hey there, little girl," he said, giving her a scratch under her chin. "Looks like she's here to take over the watch Zoey duty."
    "Yep, I think you've definitely been relieved," I said.
    "If you need me when you want to come back, just give me a call. I really don't mind," he said as he hugged me tight.
    "Thanks," I said again.
    "No problem, Z." He smiled at me once more and then, humming "Seasons of Love" from Rent, he disappeared back down the sidewalk.
    I was still smiling when I opened the side door that led to the hallway that divided the field house and the stables. Mixed with the sweet hay and horse smell that was already wafting from the stable on my right, and the relief of knowing my friends really weren't pissed at me anymore, I could already feel myself beginning to relax. Stress—jeesh! I really needed to do some yoga or whatnot (probably more whatnot than yoga). If I kept up this tension, I'd more than likely develop an ulcer. Or worse, wrinkles.
    I was just turning to my right and had my hand on the stable door when I heard a weird thwap! followed by a muffled thud . The noises were coming from my left. I glanced to the side and saw that the door to the field house was open. Another thwap! thud pricked at my curiosity, and as per typical for me, instead of showing some sense and going on into the stable as I'd meant to, I walked into the field house.
    Okay, the field house is basically an inside football field that's not a football field but just the field part with a track around it. Inside it kids play soccer and do track stuff. (I'm really not into either, but I do know how the place works in theory.) It's covered so that fledglings don't have to deal with the whole sun issue, and lit along the walls by gaslights that don't bug our eyes. Tonight most of those were unlit, so it was the next thwap! sound and not my eyesight that drew my attention to the other side of the field.
    Stark was standing there with his back to me, bow in hand, facing one of those round bull's-eye targets that have the different colors for different target areas. The red center of this particular target had been hit with a weirdly fat arrow. I squinted, but couldn't see it very well in the dim light, and the target really was way away from where Stark was standing, which meant it was way, way away from where I was standing.
    Nala gave a little low growl, and I noticed that the blond pile of stuff beside Stark was Duchess all sprawled out,