Completely unaware of the silent interplay of emotions taking place at her side, Berit was hanging on Erik’s every word, fascinated by the ease with which he handled the falcons. He called each by her name, his voice soft and yet commanding as he released them in turn to take to the sky. There were small brass bells affixed to their jesses so they could be found should they stray, but none did. They flew with the effortless ease of their kind, gliding on the wind currents, circling their prey, and then swooping down, their talon-tipped feet outstretched as they overtook their hapless quarry with unerring accuracy. “How did you teach them to relinquish their prey?” Berit asked in a breathless whisper as the last bird to fly returned to Erik’s padded wrist. Pleased to see by her rapt expression that she was genuinely interested, Erik readily explained. “It’s a matter of trust. The falcon learns she will be well rewarded for her work, so she has no fear of going hungry. You must remember this bird is an eyas, one taken from the aerie when she was newly hatched, as were the others.
