by Scott Nash
To Gabriel’s relief, the creature seemed to be either unaware of his presence or else distracted by something else in the forest. Then Junco’s call came again. “Gabriel!” The fisher growled and crouched low to the ground.
No! thought Gabriel. Junco, no! Go away! Leave me here!
Just then Junco flew into view, a small flash of gray in the darkness. The fisher tensed and quivered in anticipation of the kill. Gabriel gathered all of his strength and will, shot out of his hiding place, and clamped his beak down hard on the fisher’s hind leg. The fisher gave a piercing scream, then whipped around, nearly folding itself in half, and attacked the goose with a flurry of teeth and claws. Gabriel was overwhelmed by the ferocity of the fisher’s assault but held on with all his might. Fool, he said to himself. You attacked without a plan. Now what will you do?
As if in answer, Junco yelled, “Let go, Gabriel! Roll! Roll away now, Gabriel!” Brandishing a cutlass in each wing, Junco swooped down and landed on the fisher’s head. Then she raised her swords and plunged them into the creature’s eyes. The fisher let out a blood-curdling scream before Junco silenced the predator for good with a sweep of her blade to its throat. At this, Gabriel fainted.
“CAW! CAW! CAW CAW!” the crows chanted as they perched in the trees that surrounded the Grosbeak. Then, as if on cue, the caws stopped abruptly, and the crows began to murmur like an eager theater audience waiting for the curtain to rise at a play.
Jay cleared his throat and, in a perfect crow dialect said, “Hear me, corvid cousins. As you can see, we have wrecked our ship and have many dead and wounded. We need your help!” No response other than some excited murmuring. Jay tried again. “A word with Teach if he’s amongst you!” he shouted.
Jay could not stand the thought of asking Teach for assistance. Teach was a robber, a weapons dealer, a murderer, but he was also the leader of a mob of more than one hundred crows that had the means and might to help them out of their predicament. Still, Teach had no allegiances to anything or anybody except his own power and wealth. He would steal from or deal with colonials, peasants, pirates — anyone who had something of value to him. Teach was brilliant and treacherous, ruthless in battle, and seemed to have intimidated the colonial government, which, for some reason Jay couldn’t puzzle out, turned a blind eye on the crow’s behavior.
Jay called up to the crows again. “I wish to speak with Teach!”
Jay was startled by a familiar voice, answering nearby and right behind him. “Aw, Blue Jay!” Teach drawled. “This is certainly a surprise!”
Jay spun around to see three large crows, dressed entirely in black, emerging from the hatch right there on the Grosbeak: Teach, Teach’s brother Bellamy, and Teach’s first mate, Avery.
Teach wore a long coat and a tall, wide-brimmed hat. His feet were festooned with gold rings, and in one wing he held an elaborate switch with multiple blades that curved and twisted like silver flames. From the sharp smile on his well-shined beak to the cold light that burned in his eyes, Teach wore an attitude of cruel amusement. The crows in the trees clacked their bills in approval at their leader’s dramatic entrance.
“Well, now,” said Jay. “Look who’s here! How did you happen to get inside my ship, Teach?”
“Your ship? It resembles more a pile of sticks, I’d say,” the crow said, mocking. “You know, y’all have a rather large hole in the bottom of it, large enough for three to fly right in, our wings fully extended!”
“Yes?” said Blue Jay, sounding annoyed. “We’ve wrecked here!”
“Aw, you mean you’re only here by accident? Why, I thought you’d come by to visit your cousin,” said Teach sarcastically. “You know, you never visit anymore!”
“I don’t have time for this, Teach!” said Jay. “I have dead and wounded crew to attend to and a ship to repair.”
“Aw, Blue Jay, Blue Jay, this just won’t do! First you drop into the neighborhood without a word of notice. On top of that, your ship appears to carry no gifts whatsoever for your long-lost cousins. Downright uncivilized, if you ask me!” The crows in the trees applauded in agreement. “Tsk! Tsk! What do you have to say for yourself?”
Normally, Jay tried to approach his insane relative calmly and with caution. This time his rage got the better of him. “I’ll tell you what I have to say, cousin. I say I am in very bad humor tonight and not at all in the mood for your tricks and mockery. My crew here have done some hard fightin’, seen some hard weather, and felt a hard landing! We’re not bearin’ gifts because, no offense to you, we weren’t coming for a visit! We were merely passing by, lost our wind, and landed in your tree here. We ain’t askin’ for trouble; we’re askin’ for your help. If you don’t want to help, then I’m askin’ you to leave us in peace so that we can get our ship outta your stinkin’ trees. So either lend us your help or get out of our way, cousin!”
Maintaining his cool composure, Teach said, “Aw, Jay, you know I don’t like to feud with my relations. Of course, you and your crew may leave in peace.” He paused and poked the deck with his blade. “The ship, on the other hand, you’ll leave here. Think of it as payment for damages to . . . my stinkin’ trees.”
“You’ll not take our ship without a fight!” cried Jay, drawing his sword.
With blazing speed, Teach whirled the switch over his shoulder and, in two swift movements, knocked Jay’s sword out of his right wing and clipped the wing feathers on his left. Bits of brilliant blue flight feathers swirled in spirals toward the deck. Teach glanced at the feathers and grinned, all the while pointing the blade of his switch at Jay’s throat. Then he called to the furious and bewildered Grosbeak crew around him, “Make one move . . . ah say, one move, and I’ll cut his head off as well.”
Jay was still and defiant. “What now, Teach?”
Teach’s smile widened as his eyes darkened. “Bellamy! Watch him!”
Calmly, Teach impaled one of Jay’s lost feathers onto the silver blade of his switch with an audible crunch and inspected it. “What now?” Teach repeated. He gave a signal, and one hundred crows drew their swords in a single resounding, cold metallic echo. Teach smiled with great satisfaction.
It was midmorning of the next day when Gabriel finally awoke and was surprised to find himself covered in a dense blanket of pine needles with only the tip of his bill exposed. He was overjoyed to find Junco napping beside him, her head resting on the hilt of her sword.
“Junco?” Gabriel said weakly.
Junco jerked awake. “Gabriel!” she cried, hopping to her feet. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m just fine — owww!” groaned Gabriel.
Junco inspected the goose. “Let’s have a look at you now.” Gabriel’s head and neck were covered with a horrible crisscross of cuts and scrapes, and his beak was notched but not broken.
Junco grimaced. “I’d say that you came out of that remarkably well. I mean, given that you’re not dead!”
Gabriel laughed weakly. “Thanks to you.”
“Yes, well, I think we both managed to save each other’s skin last night,” said Junco. “If you hadn’t grabbed that monster’s leg, I would have been a goner myself.”
“Where is . . . ?” said Gabriel, lifting his head painfully.
Junco pointed to a large mound of pine needles nearby. “I covered it over so that its mates don’t get a whiff if they start searching for their comrade.” She scanned the trees above as she talked. “What’s more, this forest is full of predators! I hate to say it, but we should try to get away from here soon . . . if you’re up for it.”
“To the ship?” asked Gabriel. “Where is the Grosbeak?”
“Hopefully hammocked somewhere not too far east of here,” said Junco. “I doubt we’d catch up to the Grosbeak today, especially with you in your present condition, but I know a place along the way where we might be able to scrounge some food and hole up for the night.”
“Where?” asked Gabriel.
“It’s a little sparrow village nearby calle
d Briarloch,” said Junco. “Can you walk, Gabriel?”
After a couple of tries, the poor gosling struggled to his feet and tottered around in an unsteady circle. “Lead the way,” he said with groggy resolve.
Sparrows tended to be territorial and clannish, not the ideal bird to look to in a time of need. But seeking shelter in Briarloch was Junco and Gabriel’s best hope of safety.
As they plodded along, Junco worried about how they would defend themselves if they encountered another fisher cat or, worse, a mob of crows. At first the forest was filled with the sounds of other birds singing their identifiable songs to one another: warblers with their high-pitched squeaks, finches and their complex twittering, and woodpeckers with their song that sounded so much like laughter. They were singing, “I am here! I am here!” as was the custom with birds in the forest to indicate that all was well. As long as the birds were singing, Junco knew that there was no imminent danger. But when the songs changed to warning calls —“CHIP! CHIP! CHIP!”— Junco grew uneasy. Just out of the corner of her eye, she could glimpse gray-brown birds shadowing them at a safe distance. She realized that the warning calls were directed at Gabriel and herself.
“Ah, sparrows, they’re not the friendliest bunch,” Junco said to Gabriel. “We must be getting close to Briarloch.”
Junco and Gabriel eventually came across a small group of the birds scratching a field into the hard-packed soil.
Sparrows were trade folk and farmers, hard workers with most of their labor devoted to the gathering and storage of seed. Junco approached them, intending to ask for directions to the village.
“Helloo,” she called to the farmers, but there was no acknowledgment. “Hello?” she called again, and stepped closer. As one, the reticent sparrows flew to the trees, where they perched and cautiously looked down on the strangers. “Come on, Gabriel,” said Junco. “There’s no point. We’ll find Briarloch on our own.”
“Why wouldn’t they talk to us?” asked Gabriel as they walked on.
“Because they’re afraid,” said Junco.
“Afraid of what?” asked Gabriel.
“Afraid of everything!” said Junco in an exasperated tone.
They walked on for quite a while, and Junco noticed that Gabriel’s pace was slowing down considerably.
“It’s just a bit farther, I promise,” said Junco. “I’m afraid that I’m not used to calculating distances on foot. . . .”
Gabriel laughed at this. “Well, you saved my life and slew a fisher cat . . . We can’t be good at everything!”
She could tell that the goose was in pain from the beating the night before, yet he kept moving forward without uttering a word of complaint.
When they finally reached the stream that led to Briarloch, Gabriel visibly perked up. The sight of water always seemed to excite the goose. Junco had noticed that whenever the Grosbeak sailed over a river or lake, Gabriel would stop whatever he was doing and stare longingly out at the water.
“I have an idea,” said Junco. “Why don’t you swim to Briarloch? That way I could fly ahead. It would be much safer for both of us than trudging along on the ground here.”
Gabriel stopped in his tracks. He wanted nothing more, but the truth was that he had never been swimming before. He had occasionally drunk and bathed at the shore of a lake or pond, after being lowered by his shipmates on a tarsus, then hauled up again. But he had never gone for an actual swim in his life!
“Go ahead in,” said Junco with a smile. “It’ll be good for you. Besides, I’m not certain how the sparrows will react to a goose at the gates of Briarloch. You can swim in the pond for a bit, and I’ll come fetch you later.”
Gabriel hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said. “What if . . . there’s trouble?”
“Trouble? Ha!” said Junco. “There won’t be any trouble. These sparrows are peaceful. Now, go on. Get in the water!”
Gabriel enthusiastically shed his jacket and frock, folded them neatly, and placed them on his back between his wings. And with a smile, he waddled into the water. He looked ridiculously happy, still wearing his hat and breeches as he swam in awkward, noisy surges toward the middle of the stream. Junco flew next to him, providing words of encouragement. “You’re doing a splendid job! Now, stay in the middle of the stream if you can. You want to avoid any turtles that might be hiding in the shallows. Well done!”
Gabriel seemed pleased with himself as he paddled along noisily. Junco was nervous about attracting the attention of a fisher or some other hungry, opportunistic mammal. The stream was narrow, its high dirt banks topped with spindly gray birch trees that leaned precariously toward the middle of the stream, their sun-starved leaves casting a yellow reflection on the water below. The branches provided perfect hiding places for predators that could easily pounce on them from above.
“Shhh!” Junco whispered to Gabriel. “Swim as quietly as you can, for I fear we’re being watched.” Gabriel tried to smooth out his paddling, but his inexperienced feet kept sloshing noisily with each stroke.
Shooplop! Shooplop! Shooplop!
As Gabriel paddled downstream, Junco could sense that they were being followed. The shadows that moved within the shadows around them were the same sparrows they had seen earlier, and her heart was filled with both rage and pity for the fearful birds.
Eventually, the stream widened into a dark pond that presented Briarloch on the opposite shore.
“Where is it?” asked Gabriel. “I don’t see anything.”
“Straight ahead,” said Junco, pointing across the pond. “See that immense tangle of brambles yonder?”
Gabriel nodded.
“That, my friend, is Briarloch,” said Junco, landing on the goose’s back. “Listen, Gabriel. I’m going to go speak with these sparrows now, so I’d like you to swim toward the middle of the pond and stay there till I send word. Do you understand?”
“But why?” said Gabriel. “I thought you said they were peaceful.”
“Well, they are . . . They’re just a bit standoffish,” said Junco. “I’ll be fine. Just keep an eye out for me, will you?” And with that, she flew off, leaving Gabriel looking worried.
Junco approached the swirling wall of brambles and thorns that fortified Briarloch. There was no obvious entrance to the village, so Junco flew into the nearest opening. She was immediately set on by a pair of sparrows wielding crude wooden spears. One was wearing a straw hat with no brim and a jacket with gray and brown horizontal stripes. “Now halt! Halt now! Name yer state and purpose!” he said. “I mean, state yer name and purpose!” Junco hovered a respectful distance away from the guards.
“He said, state yer purpose!” snapped the second sparrow.
Junco held up her feet as a gesture of peace. “I am called Junco. That goose over there and I were attacked by a fisher last night. We seek a place to rest till we are able to continue our journey.” The sparrows’ eyes widened when they spotted the giant goose. Seeing Junco threatened at spear point, Gabriel rushed madly toward them, his red cap cocked to one side and an angry, determined expression on his face.
“Hold, Gabriel!” Junco called. “There’s no trouble here.” Gabriel slowed and stopped beside Junco. Junco hopped onto his back and patted his neck. “These young birds are here to escort me to the appropriate village elder, aren’t you?” Terrified, the sparrows bobbed their heads in wide-eyed agreement.
Accompanied by the two sentries, Junco flew through the village of Briarloch, all the while admiring the surprising craftsmanship displayed in the sparrows’ dwellings. Residences were decorated with woven plant and floral designs. The Seed Hall bore a mural, woven entirely of sticks, of sparrows harvesting and storing seed. The facade of the tavern had an elaborate image of a laughing, oafish fox sharing drinks with a gang of birds. The tavern’s entryway was located in the middle of the fox’s chest, where his heart would be. The tavern itself was a large open hall filled with perches, feeding stations, and ropes strung from wall to wall. Light poured thro
ugh hundreds of small windows in crisscrossing shafts of light. It being morning, the tavern was nearly empty.
“Covey? Cyrus?” called a friendly voice. “You boys are a bit late for breakfast, but come down and I’ll fix somethin’ for you.”
“We have a visitor here to see you, Poppa,” one of the sparrows called back.
With a flutter of wings, the few patrons lurking in the dark corners of the tavern repositioned themselves. Junco touched the hilt of her sword lightly.
“Poppa?” called Cyrus.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” called the voice. “Bring this visitor down!”
The group flew down to a pile of grain sacks and baskets. In their midst stood the fattest sparrow Junco had ever seen. His face was puffed and pinched, with crescent eyes. He wore a rust-colored skullcap on his head with a matching sash over gray breeches. He had only one leg and hopped toward them with the aid of a wooden peg. He squinted at Junco warily for a moment from behind small rectangular glasses. Then he chuckled. “Well, well. Welcome, miss. Pardon my manners. We don’t receive many visitors here, not these days!” The sparrow held his right wing out to Junco. “I’m Poppa Fox.”
Poppa Fox was village elder, innkeeper, country doctor, and teacher, and his tavern, the Sooty Fox, was the hub of the village. Nearly every bird in Briarloch spent part of the week helping out at the tavern, though Poppa Fox generally favored hiring sparrows unable to gather food on their own or defend themselves adequately: the very young, the very old, or the injured.
Junco introduced herself in turn, then went straight to the point. “My goose out there needs attention. He took a beating from a fisher last night.”
Poppa Fox frowned and smoothed the feathers under his chin. “Hmmm. Your goose . . . and a fisher?” He examined Junco’s face. “No offense, but you look as if you had a rough night as well.”