Chapter One

Bright white light beamed in through the open window, carrying with it a chilling gust of air. Through a crack in the glass, the breezed howled like a hungry wolf. It was cold enough to wake the dead.

With a sudden click, the light illuminating the room vanished and Logan Myers lost his inner battle with consciousness. He kept his eyes closed as his senses slowly became more aware to him. He tried to shake the leftovers of his dream out of his head as the curse of being awake in the middle of the night finally hit home. He opened his eyes into his dark bedroom, and waited for them to adjust. Familiar clicks and putts emitted through the open window gap that he was sure he had closed before he had gone to bed. He sat up and stared through the glass.

Logan knew the sounds of his father coming home in the middle of the night well, and he also knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to sleep through all the racket the man seemed to make. And, of course, it always took him forever to fall back to sleep. Logan, already realizing defeat, sighed deeply, and rallied himself out of bed; grabbing a blanket off the edge. Throwing it around his shoulders, he made his way slowly to the window, peering out just in time to see his father climb out of his big service truck and walk toward the house. Taking a few steps backwards Logan plopped himself down in a chair he had near the window.

He enjoyed sitting and staring at nothing in the late hours of the night, racking his brain with all the thinking he could muster. The stars were in hiding and the moon was just strong enough to peek its light through the thick layer of clouds. It shone a faint orange light that sparked something in Logan's memory, though he couldn't pinpoint what. Unlatching the window and letting it swing fully open, Logan let the cool air pour into the room. It was refreshing even as he shivered underneath the blanket. The cold sweat that had been drenching his body gave the air a little extra sting.

Strange sounds floated on the waves of the bitter gusts. Grasshoppers were chirping near the bushes beneath him, the occasional car drove past on the highway just a mile or so away, and there was the periodic hooting of a spotted owl mother in her nest searching for a nighttime snack. Logan had been paying close attention to this owl over the last few weeks. He suspected that she had given birth because of how close she had been staying to the nest. She was protecting her young and waiting for her mate to bring the food; at least until she could teach the newborn how to fly and survive on their own. He loved the sounds that she made in the night; it was soothing.

A few years ago Logan had taken an interest in birds; in the seventh grade he got ninety nine percent on an ornithology project. All he really had done was bird watch for a month or so but his mother loved the fact that he found something he was interested in. So much so, that for the past four years he had gotten nothing but bird books, bird sculptures, and bird toys for his birthday. Not that they weren't appreciated he just hoped for some variety for once. It gave Logan something interesting to read when he was bored and he didn't want to make his mother feel bad. Maybe tomorrow would be different, seeing how it was his birthday. Resting his head on the back of the chair Logan stared up at the ceiling. Jumping from thought to though; focusing back on the dream he had had. His mind started to wander back into that strange world. His eyes closed softly and he began to fall back into the clutches of sleep.

Knock. Knock.

The sounds at the door brought Logan back to real life just seconds later. The hinges creaked open and Logan's father peeked his head in. Nodding a greeting, Logan squinted as his eyes adjusted to the unwelcome light in the hallway. In a hushed voice his father spoke as he moved quietly into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Hey kiddo, sorry I woke you." His father said with a smile.

"I don't know why you still apologize. It's basically a tradition at this point." His father chuckled in a whispered tone. Logan was always especially good at making his father laugh.

"Last night," his father whispered hoarsely, "you excited?"

"Yeah, as long as I don't get some weird ostrich toy from mom again. I am running out of closet space." Logan didn't actually mind the gifts, he did like birds, but he and his father greatly enjoyed picking on his mom, in a loving way of course. He was very excited about his birthday though.

"Don't worry." Logan's father, Scott, interjected with a smile, "This time it will be something good."

Logan's excitement perked up a little. Most likely, that meant it was something great. His father was pretty bad at hiding his own excitement about the gifts he was giving, especially for birthdays. Last year he had been so excited about what he had got for his son, a new video game system that he had given it to Logan three days early. Much to the anger of Logan's mom. The tall man took a few quiet steps toward where Logan was sitting.

His father was a tall man, only half a foot or so taller than Logan, but he always seemed huge. His short cropped brown hair was streaked with gray at the sides, as it had been as long as Logan could remember. He was a tough and muscular man, the kind of muscles you get from hard work. Throughout the past few years, Logan had been told on many occasions that he looked a lot like his father when he had been young.

Reaching into his back pocket, his dad pulled out an envelope, and tossed it to Logan. Logan's attention was grabbed and not bothering to mess with the seal, he ripped the edge turned it over and tapped its contents of this early present into his palm.

A feather dropped neatly into his hand. It was almost completely white, a pure white, except for right in the middle was a brownish black spot about the size of a small coin. Logan didn't recognize the feather from any of the bird books he had read and something about it grabbed his interest. Not a single piece was missing and in all manner of ways it was perfect. That's so cool, he his mouth was hanging open; Logan shut it quickly and turned to his father.

"Where did you get it?" He asked not able to wipe the look of awe completely off of his face. His father replied with a big grin.

"Some huge bird flew over the top of me when I walked out of the shop tonight. That landed right on the hood of my truck." He stated enjoyably while pointing a thick finger at the feather. Logan, adopting a more nonchalant expression, looked back down at the stunning plume.

"Did you get a good look at it?" Logan said while reaching behind him and pulling down one of the many bird-identifying books he had attained over the years.

"Just the shadow, it was bookin' it pretty fast." Flipping through the pages Logan could not seem to find a match. He would have to do more research later when his eyes didn't sting from trying to read in the dark. Stopping the page on the Northern Spotted Owl—whose diet consists mainly of wood rats and flying squirrels—Logan closed the feather in the book and set it on top of a small carved wooden box next to him. His father took a seat on the arm of the chair.

"Thanks." Logan said as they both looked through the open door to the room across the hall. The distinct sounds of someone shuffling and grunting in their sleep could be heard coming through. His father leaned closer and whispered as softly as he could.

"How's your sister been sleeping?" They both regarded the room with a look of worry, as only a father and brother could.

"Fine, she hasn't been having any sort of trouble lately. I think she might be done with it." The look of worry on his dad's face was washed away with a grin. "Good," he said lightheartedly.

Logan's sister was not actually his real sister. His mother and father had adopted her nearly two years ago. She was a lost little girl who didn't seem to know what happened to her parents when they found her wandering the forest, alone; said they might have died when she was little. But she had fit in so well that Logan had had no problem adjusting at all. In fact it had seemed as though she had always been his little sister.

Logan remembered when she had first moved in; she used to wake up violently in the middle of the night. Bad dreams were as much as she would ever explain. A few times she had screamed so loud that Logan almost felt like calling the police. He was terrified, but she would always stop as soon as he thought about waking her. After that he would just wait until she woke and see if she wanted to talk about it. Of course, she never did, but she always thanked him for asking. He felt that it was his job to worry about her, she was his sister after all, blood or not.

Though for the past few weeks, she had slept fine throughout the night. No screams, no bad dreams, no nothing. She actually seemed rather peaceful. At first Logan was wary, but he was convinced now that they were in fact gone. And it stayed that way until a few days ago, when the bad dreams returned. They just didn't return in his sister. Logan's father coming home wasn't the only thing waking him up in the middle of the night lately.

The dream was vivid, always terrifying, and too eerily convincing for its own good. Always the same dream, but played over and over in different views and perspectives. And they just made him worry about his sister more. Strange worlds with menacing creatures. He wasn't sure if he believed dreams were supposed to mean something, but he was sure that this one scared him.

His father broke the silence and brought Logan back into the room. "Alright I am going to try to go to bed without waking your mother; you know how she gets when I come home late." Logan hadn't told his father or mother about the dream.

"K, dad, g' night." They would just over worry, like usual. And he especially didn't want to bother with it the night before his birthday.

"Good night. And try to get some sleep. It's your last day being fifteen years old." The door closed behind his father with a resounding click.

Logan sat for a while staring at the door; trying not to think of nightmares. He thought about what he might get for his birthday. His sister ruffled around again across the hall, and a smile grew on his face. Seconds later the distinct sound of her snoring loudly drifted across the hall. He let out a slight chuckle but closed his mouth before he laughed any harder. I am definitely not going to sleep now, he thought jokingly to himself. He rather enjoyed making fun of her snoring, mostly because she never quite believed him. A sophisticated lady does not snore, she had told him on more than one occasion. Once, he had thought about recording it, but decided it was more hilarious if she didn't ever know.

With a sort of half snort-cough she stopped snoring and with a grin still on his face Logan turned back towards the window. The moon had broken through a gap in the clouds and was shining brilliantly; just a hint of that orange light still lingered. The higher in the sky it rose the whiter it became; gleaming. Something about it reminded him of that pristine feather his father had given him. Logan reached back and grabbed it out from between the pages of his book. Staring at it again only for a moment, he grabbed for the wooden box. He very much enjoyed the odd mysteries of this world. And this perfect feather was perfectly odd for him.

No more than about a foot long, the wooden box he grabbed had the near complete carving of an eagle on top. Its body completely outstretched with its head pointing forward as if it were in mid flight. The soaring bird was however missing one wing; though, it took away none of its grandeur. It had been a gift from his grandfather when he was just five years old. He had been told that his grandpa had died while he was still trying to finish the carving. When it was given to him Logan's dad had asked Logan if he wanted the carving finished, but he denied. Logan thought it would be better to keep it the way it was, as a constant reminder of fond memories.

Placing the feather inside, Logan then closed the lid and placed the wooden box back onto the desk behind him. He pulled the blanket up a little tighter and closed his eyes; relaxing his mind and letting sleep slowly take hold of him again. The breeze outside brought in with it the wonderful scent of the night, and the mother owl had begun to sing again. A giant yawn worked its way through his body and out a gaping mouth. Avoiding the threats of nightmares and bad dreams, he did his best to think of nothing at all. Darkness enveloped his mind and Logan Myers fell soundly asleep in a chair near his window. Nightmares kept at bay and he slept peacefully.

His last night as a fifteen year old.