She looked at her pigeon. Duchess scratched the floor. Susan reached down to pick up Duchess, but she fluttered to the window and began pecking at the blackout curtain.

“She wants to leave,” Bertie said.

Ollie’s not there to receive a message. She clasped her hands to keep them from trembling.

Duchess stretched her wings and took flight. She circled the living room and darted upstairs.

A moment later, Susan heard pecking on her bedroom window. She glanced at the ceiling. When the noise stopped, she thought Duchess had given up, until she saw her swoop into the living room. Instead of landing, Duchess flew headfirst into the blackout curtain.

Susan gasped.

Duchess dropped to the floor.

“Good Lord!” Bertie said.

Susan went to pick up Duchess, but she shot up and fluttered. The pigeon darted again for the window. The thud of Duchess’s body striking the curtain caused Susan to scream.

Stunned, Duchess flapped one of her wings, propelling her sideways into the wall.

Susan scooped her pigeon into her arms. She stroked her back. But her touch only seemed to make things worse. Her wiry legs wriggled. Her talons scraped Susan’s forearm. “What wrong?”

Duchess jutted her head.

For the next hour, Susan tried to calm Duchess. She rubbed her wings, tempted her with food, which she didn’t eat, and blew warm air over her plume. And each time she thought her pigeon had calmed down, she released her grip only to see Duchess dart into the curtain and fall to the floor, now covered with a blanket to protect her from being injured. She’d even tried placing her in a basket she’d retrieved from a loft. But the confinement only made Duchess beat her wings against the cage. With few other options, Susan resorted to wrapping her pigeon in a towel.

Bertie struggled to stand from his chair. His weak knees wobbled. He grabbed his walking stick, dust-covered and propped against the fireplace, and hobbled to Susan.

Susan, swaddling Duchess, looked up from her seat on the floor. The sight of Bertie, relenting to use his walking stick, caused her eyes to water. “She’s gone mad.”

“We must let her go,” he said.

“But she’ll fly away. She doesn’t have the strength.”

Bertie coughed, then took a moment to catch his breath. “If she stays, she’ll hurt herself.”

Susan sensed Duchess fidgeting. The mission, it seemed, had turned her pet into a wild bird. Through tear-filled eyes, she looked at Bertie and knew they had no other choice.

Bertie worked his way across the living room, having to stop twice to rest. Reaching the window, he pulled back the blackout curtain and undid the latch. The window screeched open.

The cold air seemed to settle Duchess. Carefully, Susan unwrapped the towel to find that a tail feather had fallen out.

Duchess looked up, her golden eyes shimmered with candlelight.

“Please, don’t go.” Susan caressed her pigeon.