““You need to eat,” she said, pushing the morsel another inch closer to the bird’s hooked beak. She had saved the bite of meat beneath her tongue during dinner, daring to spit it out only after Simon said goodnight and locked the door to her room. She’d waited until after midnight before pulling the loosened piece of glass out of its casing to find the bird still in the small alcove where she’d left it that morning. Its wing hung at an ugly angle away from its body, and its beak opened and close...d in small movements as if it were panting. It hadn’t drunk any of the water she’d poured into the divot in the alcove’s floor. “Just try a bite, okay?” She picked the soft piece of meat up and extended her arm farther out. The owl nipped at her fingers, pinching the tip of one hard in its beak. “Ouch!” Zoey squealed, unable to stop herself. She dropped the chunk and drew her hand back, examining the shallow cut the bird had made. It oozed a line of blood, and a sudden overwhelming fear flooded her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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