“For me?” Henry reached for the package, fully expecting the bird to fly off with it at the last second. But as he grabbed it, the bird pulled on the string with its beak. An assortment of crystals tumbled onto the ground, along with a polished black wand with three white pinstripes running the length of the wood. It was about the length of his hand and slightly thicker than his thumb.

“Wow!” he exclaimed as he carefully held it up, twirling it in the sunlight. The pinstripes were actually clear veins that ran all the way through the wood.

Mixed in with the raw crystals was an odd white cube made out of paper. Henry pinched it between his fingers. It popped open and spread out before him, and Henry saw it was a note.

“Coralis wrote back to me.” It was all becoming too hard to believe. “Then you must be the bird that stole my letter.” He looked up to see that the falcon had moved over to the door and was motioning with its head for Henry to open it.

“Suppose I don’t want to let you go? I have a lot of questions … ”

The bird’s mild manner swiftly disappeared. Its eyes turned mean and predatory. Its feathers fluffed out until it looked to be almost twice its original size. In a show of defiance, it fully extended its wings and let loose a terrifying shriek!

Henry almost poked himself in the eye with his new wand as he reached up to cover his ears, the noise deafening in the close confines of the garage. “All right! All right! Let me by!”

As if nothing had happened, the bird withdrew to its normal size and hopped out of Henry’s way. In the open doorway it turned, winked once more, and rose majestically into the afternoon sky.

“Pretty bird!” Brianna called after it from where she stood on the back porch.

Henry smiled. “Pretty smart bird.”

Chapter Five

Henry made his escape after dinner.

He set the volume of his radio just high enough to be heard through the closed bedroom door, so it would appear he was still inside. Then, practicing the stealthy moves of a cat, he snuck out the back door and into the garage.

After locking the doors, he shimmied up a metal pole and hoisted his body over a ledge and onto a second-floor loft. It wasn’t an easy move for someone whose athletic ability didn’t extend much beyond walking, but it was worth it for the privacy. Other than an old car tire, an empty armoire, and plenty of cobwebs, the loft was empty.

When he’d first found this space, he’d instantly known what the children who’d found Narnia had felt like. He had discovered a place that was his and only his. And someday he would turn it into his own private workshop.