I woke up near dusk, feeling nothing. I had no recollection of the night before, or where I even was. Upon noticing my strange surroundings, I jolted up out of the bed and looked around frantically, nearly calling out for my father. The word that flew to my mouth so easily brought me back to reality, and the painful memories came flooding back as though a torrent of water, building up for years, had just been released upon my soul.

I fell back to the bed and wept bitterly for what seemed like hours. I ignored the pang of hunger, the desire to leave and find food. I didn't merely feel grief during those long, long hours; I became grief. I was mourning, desperation, and sorrow. There was nothing else to me but that. 

It took me a while to realize that I was alone. My age-old companion must have left in search of food and were taking much longer than necessary. Despite reasoning her absence so, I began to panic. She knew not the ways of taming wild beasts. What if she were to be mauled by a bear, or torn to pieces by a mountain lion? What if she was already dead, leaving me alone in this dreadful tower with nobody else in the world?

Fear began to dominate my faculties, and I unconsciously started to pace the small tower. I tried singing, hoping it might bring me some comfort, but it did nothing to soothe my nerves. I turned, again and again, numbly humming out the same simple, sad tune until I hear a strangely gentle...cawing?

I face the window, where some twenty birds fought to share the space on the windowsill. The biggest one, a falcon of some sort, was the offending party who had interrupted my anxious reverie. He puffed out his chest in something like pride and fluttered closer to me. I held out my finger for him instinctively and he flew to perch there, being careful not to cut me with his sharp talons. I marvel his beauty, snowy feathers speckled with chestnut glowing with a clean sheen in the light of the setting sun.

Then it occurs to me that he might be useful. 

I set him down carefully on the couch, turning quickly to think of what I need. I walk to the little counter in the kitchen and he follows me with little hops and a questioning bird sound. I use a simple incantation to summon a pen and some paper and start writing a short message for my companion, then carefully blot the extra ink off the paper with a dry cloth so as to prevent it from blurring before it dried. Rolling the little slip into a roll, I look for something to tie it with and choose to complete the task with a pale pink ribbon holding my hair up, and summon a black ribbon to tie about the falcon's neck loosely. 

He holds still as I make a little bow for him, even more prideful than before, fluttering to the windowsill to show off his prize, making little noises that sounded almost like chuckling while I thought better of the haphazard knot and tried a leather cylinder instead, tucking the paper safely inside and using the ribbon instead to attach it to the foot of my little helper. 

Once he was done examining his new decoration, I began to sing to him. His eyes began to close, but he listened intently to my orders. I stroked his head carefully as I told him of flying high over the treetops, the wind ruffling his feathers. I told him about a woman, tall with black hair, conveying understanding as best I could. I sang that a powerful and mighty falcon would fly down and perch before her, allowing her to take the leather cylinder, and to let her also reattach it, and to fly back as quickly as he could to the tower. 

His will bent easily to my suggestions, and I walked to the little window and let him fly off. 

Tired, I crept to the couch to watch and wait for the snowy white bird to come back with relief for my already aching heart.