Silent Dances by A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley

the
    vision that would tu rn her into a heyoka , something she didn ' t want to be.
    The winged shadow grew larger, darker, turn ing circles in time with her
    silent drum . Tesa tried to regain her calm. Finally, she stopped and
    looked up, her hea rt fearful but open to the Eagle Spi ri t , her palms sticky with sweat . But the shadow wasn ' t a spirit ... it was an Aquila.
    An Aquila! Her mind and her heart went to war . She glanced at the
    marsh , wonde ri ng if the Grus would notice the great p re dator and erupt in a chorus of wa rn ing calls . But she felt no tingling vibrations and decided the Aquila must not have violated any "bounda ri es." This single hunter might have been winging westward after ranging in the
    easte rn savannahs.
    Was there any way to communicate with it? Had anyone ever t ri ed ? Or was it just viewing her as nothing more than a potential meal? It was
    foolish, but she didn't feel frightened now. The Aquila was magnificent!
    Scott' s notes had warned Tesa that the Aquila was every bit
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    as big as the long-extinct Teratomis of Earth. The larger female's wingspan
    spre ad to sixteen feet, a foot longer than the Grus'. Her body, stretched tall, was about four feet high. The massive bird spiraled down as Tesa stared,
    riveted. As she watched the Aquila, the bird also watched her. Clutching her
    prayer feathers, she met the bird's gaze.
    The huge avian alighted on an old, dead tree that clung to the edge of the
    cliff. Tesa could see the ruby-red eyes clearly. A female, then. The males
    were smaller and had golden eyes.
    Meg had given Tesa Scott' s notes on the voyage, and the young woman
    quickly realized that the older biologist had no idea how much work her
    partner had done on Aquila behavior. Scott wrote that he had wanted to do
    more, to even try contacting the elusive predators, but the Grus' long-
    standing enmity with the creatures had made that impossible. Dutifully, Tesa
    had gone through everything about the Grus, only stealing a few moments
    here and there to read about the Aquila. She'd never told Meg about the
    material, and kept those files separate.
    As she met the Aquila's red-eyed gaze, Tesa wondered, What would you do,
    Scott? Then, slowly, she walked toward the tree.
    Clamping onto the leafless treetop with strong talons, the raptor made a
    great display of flapping her wings, as though she would pull the old tree out
    of the ground. She opened her wickedly hooked beak-screaming her own
    calls, no doubt.
    Tesa stopped ten paces from the trunk. As Taller had, the Aquila peered at
    her with one brilliant red eye, then the other. Then, without warning, she
    flattened her feathers and launched herself up, gaining altitude quickly.
    Tesa looked back at the tree, watching it sway as if that could reassure her
    the Aquila had actually been there. As her gaze traveled down the trunk,
    something glistened on a low limb.
    She scrambled a few feet up the trunk, reached for the shiny thing, and
    snagged it. It was a feather from the Aquila, colored gold speckled with
    bronze. Clutching it, Tesa jumped down, then spun wildly, narrowly missing
    the edge of the cliff.
    Scrambling backward and grinning , she looked to the horizon. The Mother
    Sun had disappeared, and the twilight was darkening. Opening her palms,
    Tesa displayed her three prayer feathers, thanking the Great Spirit for this
    gift-this sign-on her first day in this new world.
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    Then she took the three feathers , and wrapped them in the protective
    leather , and slipped them into her pocket . A touch on her shoulder
    startled her.
    "Was that an Aquila?" Meg asked, pointing toward the distant speck that
    was the avian. Her face was drawn , somber, totally unlike the happy
    person who had helped her off the shuttle . Before Tesa could answer ,
    the older woman shaded her eyes, pee ri ng . Tesa felt her exuberance
    waning.
    "Thorn says lone ones have been doing flyovers. I'll never feel comfortable if
    even one of them is