Work Text:
After so much pain, it’s an absolute pleasure to fly.
Stories were that after earthly vision collapsed to the blackness of death, you’d leave that void and be immediately cradled in warmth. That you’d be lifted up through a radiant tunnel of gold and white – and that, strong once again, you’d soar further upwards under your own winged power.
So it was with you. And as you ascended, snow, ice, and land simultaneously came into focus beneath you: The Passage!
Now the sky is yours: you swoop, your soar, you dip and rise, testing your new wings. You delight in your ability to sway and angle your body to execute wide circles, zig zags, and S-shaped curves. You can flap your wings quickly to cover great distances, and then rest them, fully outstretched, to ride the breeze.
As God’s messenger, you’re eager to do your duty. You hasten through the blue until a straight line of boats on sledge runners comes into view. Taking quick inventory of the men, you notice that Mr. Blanky is missing. Could he have possibly perished so soon after you? He didn’t seem as ill as many of the others; maybe he was putting on a good face for everyone.
Lieutenant Jopson is the first to raise his gaze to the skies. “Will someone tell me, please, if they also see that bird?”
You scan the skies, and you see no bird. Is the Lieutenant hallucinating?
Seaman Peglar fell to the shale stones as you approached. Mr. Bridgens lifted him and placed him in the middle boat. Prompted by Lieutenant Jopson’s question, Mr. Bridgens looked upwards and made no reply. As for Seaman Peglar, his vision was clearly faltering; who knew what he could – or couldn’t – see?
You must be invisible to them all. But you haven’t been an angel for long – so perhaps no one in this group is ready to see you. Yet.
You’ll return later – but for now, there are still others to find.
***************
You fly eastward. If you can find Mr. Hickey and his mutineers, you might also happen upon Mr. Goodsir. Should anyone be able to recognize you in your newfound form, it would likely be him.
You reach the band’s solitary boat and hover above. No one looks up but Mr. Goodsir, who quickly shakes his head and then sadly lowers his gaze to the ground as if he’s seen nothing at all.
Why is no one able to see you?
Frustrated, you depart the scene as hastily as you had arrived.
**************
You speed along until you see a black dot that seems to be moving on the shale stones below. Drawing nearer, you identify that dot as Mr. Blanky, who is still very much alive. He’s seated only feet away from an expanse of snow, and chuckling while he writes on a fully unfolded map. Ah! He, too, has found the Passage. When he’s finished writing, he tosses his chalk aside and falls backward, spread-eagled, looking to the skies and laughing aloud.
You fly in several swift circles above to celebrate along with him.
Mr. Blanky continues laughing. “You fuckin’ bird! Now you decide to show up? Where were you when we really needed you?”
Your indignant reply manifests as a series of high-pitched, shrill squawks.
Until now, you had assumed you were an angel.
“Or maybe you’re no ordinary bird at all, eh?” Mr. Blanky says. “You could be Captain Fitzjames, for all I know.” He laughs. “Hey, how about you give me one long squawk for Yes, two short squawks for No?
One long squawk it is.
“Don’t be wasting your time on me, then! Go find Francis and the others and lead them back to the ships before it’s too late. Godspeed, Sir!”
He’s right.
You sound a clarion farewell to Mr. Blanky and confidently make your way back inland. If he, of all people, was ready to recognize you, then Lieutenant Jopson and the others should now be able to do the same.
God wants them to live - and although you’re a bird, you're still His messenger.