Page 22 of Caging Cessie
“As long as it takes,” he said simply. “You can’t rush it. Every bird is different. Days. Weeks. Sometimes longer.”
“And what do you do if they don’t take that step and trust you?”
Leon smiled again, slower this time. “You wait. You show them that every time they trust you, there’s no threat. Only safety. Only reward. That you’ll let them be who—” Wait, he wanted to keep this conversation academic. “You’ll let them be what they are. Their life wouldn’t be what it is without a falconer, but you prove that you don’t want to change the essence of what they are. And eventually, the bird learns that your voice, your hand, is safe. Is home.”
Cessie glanced away, her gaze flickering toward the window. “Sounds... delicate.”
“It is,” Leon said. “Falconers call it manning— the slow process of getting the bird used to you, your touch, your presence. You sit quietly near them. You talk to them. Feed them by hand. Move slowly, deliberately. Never give them a reason to fear you.”
He paused, letting her process.
“It’s not about forcing submission,” he said. “Because as we both know, true submission cannot be forced. It’s about building trust so deep that the bird chooses to come back to you. Even when it could fly away.”
Cessie was quiet for a long time. Leon didn’t rush her. He simply sat, watching the afternoon light halo her hair in gold.
Finally, she asked, “Training a falcon… that’s why we’re here?”
Leon leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Yes. Montana has a dozen different species of birds of prey.”
She frowned, gaze snapping to him. Her expression clearly said “wait, are we actually going to try and train a bird?”
Leon grinned at her, and Cessie relaxed slightly, shaking her head in silent rebuke for the misdirect.
“The relationship between a falcon and its falconer is unique. A trust that isn’t demanded or commanded. It’s given. Freely.”
He sat forward again, elbows resting on his knees, his hands loosely clasped. “I want you to come home to me because you trust me. Because you choose me.”
Cessie sucked in a small breath, the sound almost the start of a sob. “I do trust you,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“I know you do. But you don’t trust me, not in the way you need to.”
Instead of getting defensive, she said, “Trust isn’t... easy for me.”
“I know.” He let the words settle between them before continuing. “That’swhy we’re here.”
Cessie raised her gaze to his. Searching. Weighing. He met her stare evenly, letting her see the patience there, the promise.
“We’ll build it, little by little,” he said. “Trust. Like a falcon and its falconer.”
She gave a faint smile. “Despite my name sounding like kestrel, I’m not a bird.”
Leon chuckled. “No. You’re more dangerous than a falcon.”
That startled a laugh out of her—soft, surprised. Some of the tension in her shoulders eased.
“You keep saying I’m dangerous. I quite literally spend my days trying to keep people alive.”
“But you also stab people right in the spine without paralyzing them. That’s dangerous.”
Her laugh was relaxed and genuine. Fuck he’d missed that sound.
He sat back again, giving her space. “You’re not a bird, but the principles of gentling and training a falcon are what we need. I’ll show you my hand, over and over, until you know it’s safe. Until you call me when you’re too exhausted to drive because you trust me to show up and support you, even if I’m pissed at your decisions.”
She ducked her head.
“I’ll treat you like a falcon I’m training until you trust me enough to tell me what you need. Trust me enough to listen to me when I tell you how fucking worried I am—” He cut himself off before this devolved into a fight or unproductive conversation.
The point of all this was the mechanism of falconry would allow them to work on their issues without getting mired in the minutia of their relationship’s cracks and faults.
