Page 231 of Inside the Sun

"Careful," Ragnar murmurs. "I think it’s a gyrfalcon. They’re rare. Actually Iceland’s national bird. Biggest falcons in the world, but the Icelandic population is unique and really limited now…"

"Oh no," I breathe out.

The bird is stunning. Pale, almost white chest, wings speckled with fine dark dots, sharp black eyes watching us warily, mighty talons.

Its injured wing flutters weakly. It’s clearly exhausted from pain and panic.

I crouch nearby and glance up at Ragnar.

His silver-golden eyes meet mine, as if waiting for something.

"I don’t know if I can… if I’m ready," I whisper, lips trembling, doubts filling me.

Ragnar kneels beside me and takes my hand gently in his.

"Take your time, Sun. You can give it a try. If it doesn’t work, that’s okay. You’ll know you just need a little more training."

I look at the falcon. It’s the embodiment of freedom and resilience, made to survive harsh climates. But even it can fall, can make a mistake. Like weall.

Did it fight another falcon? Get thrown against a cliff by the wind? A hunting accident?

"I want to try. Can’t hurt, right?"

Ragnar nods. "Right."

His smile is full of gentle support, and that’s what helps me break through the hesitation.

Carefully, with respect, I reach toward the gyrfalcon.

I feel Ragnar tense a little, probably expecting it to snap at me. But… it doesn’t. It calms down. That’s always been a thing with me. Animals never seemed afraid of me, tough I could never explain it. It just felt like I instinctively knew what kind of energy to carry so they’d feel safe.

I place my hands gently on its wings, turning the bird so its head faces the sea. Slowly, I run my hand down the injured wing, guiding it into what feels like the right position, acting on instinct alone, willing, with everything in me, for it not to hurt.

It doesn’t flinch or fight.

It lets me touch the wings.

Its powerful talons rest calmly in the sand.

I glance at Ragnar.

"I… I don’t really know what to do next," I murmur, embarrassed. "I want to help, but… I don’t know how to begin."

Ragnar tilts his head. "Your dad said that when you were little, you explained it like this: ‘I really wanted to fix that butterfly.’Maybe that’s all it takes? Just wanting it enough."

I hesitate. Then an idea comes to me.

"Put your hand on my shoulder. Maybe your aura will help me focus?"

I say it half-jokingly, but Ragnar doesn’t laugh or brush it off.

Instead, he nods seriously, and his big, warm hand settles gently on my shoulder.

The moment Ragnar touches me, calm pours into my body, like a raging river finding its course, gently guided into a peaceful bed.

I know it’s kind of a shortcut, leaning on our Bond instead of finding that stillness on my own, but maybe I still need that little extra help, at least for the time being.

After all, I’m just a newbie healer.

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