by Scott Nash
Just after both birds were out of sight, the crows began arriving. The black forest filled with their croaks, clicks, and caws.
“Spread out! Three of ya to a building! Report back to me!” cawed one crow.
“You heard the boss!” croaked another. “You three, to the tavern. The rest of ya, split up into groups and search the buildings!”
They ransacked the village. Gabriel slipped silently, undetected into the water.
“Aw, they’re not here,” growled the first crow.
“Check every corner!” said the second.
“They’re not here, ah tell ya!” shrieked the first.
“Looks like they left in a hurry,” said a third, rational voice. “Don’t you think we should —?”
“Aw, someone must have informed them! Spread out! Search the forest!” screamed the crazy one. “I’ll not sleep till I’ve tasted the blood of a sparra! Now, go find me one!”
Gabriel shuddered with both fear and indignation as he swam silently in the shadow of the shore. What is the matter with these birds? he wondered. They’re all insane. Why would anyone — crow or sparrow — stay in this awful place? For that matter, what am I doing here? He was alone again, but this time he was not simply feeling lonely. Rather, he felt the overwhelming urge to fly away and never stop, to be anywhere but where he was at that moment.
“What’s this, then, eh?” came the raspy voice of a female crow from somewhere above Gabriel. “A goose? What are you doing here, I’m wonderin’.”
Startled, Gabriel began flapping his wings wildly and managed to propel himself a safe distance away from shore but attracted a considerable amount of attention to himself in the process.
“Now you’ve done it! The others will have heard you,” said the crow invisibly over his head. “They’ll be on you in a sneeze!”
Sure enough, Gabriel was soon surrounded by an unruly squad of Teach’s crows, armed with pointy, razor-sharp switches that slashed menacingly in his direction. “What’s going on here, Crookie?” demanded Bellamy.
“Wellll,” said the raspy crow, “I seem to have inadvertently startled a sleeping goose. A Branta, I believe.”
“Aw, Crookie! I don’t care what sort of goose it is,” yelled Bellamy. “What I want to know is, what’s it doing lurking in the pond here?”
Wisely, Gabriel remained silent, his heart beating wildly.
“I told ya, hon,” said Crookie. “He was sleeping! Probably resting up before heading south for the winter. That migrating’s hard work, I imagine!”
“Crookie!” said Bellamy.
“Ask him yourself, why don’t ya?” said Crookie.
“Speak up, goose!” said Bellamy. “State yer purpose!”
Gabriel glared at the crow and hissed.
“Haw! Haw!” Crookie laughed at Bellamy. “State yer purpose!” she mocked. “I’ve no doubt its purpose is being a goose and not having you in his face!”
“All right, Crookie, that’s enough out of you,” said Bellamy, and addressed Gabriel again. “What happened here, goose? The sparrows of Briarloch seem to have flown off in a hurry! You must have seen something! Speak up, goose!” Bellamy cautiously poked Gabriel’s chest with the point of his switch and then flew back. “Speak up or I swear I’ll whittle you down to size!” Gabriel was not at all convinced by Bellamy’s bluster; in fact, he was more outraged than fearful of the crow.
“Aw, that’s uncalled for, Bellamy!” cried Crookie. “If you provoke the poor thing, it ain’t never gonna answer your questions!”
“That’s enough, Crookie!” snapped Bellamy, and he threatened Gabriel a second time. “Speak up, goose, or I’ll start carving.”
The point of the crow’s switch triggered a powerful emotion in Gabriel. Rage filled his chest and coursed through his wings. From the depths of his soul erupted a sound so forceful and furious that the assembled crows drew back.
“HOOOOOONK! HOOONK! HONK!”
Then a series of powerful wing beats lifted him out of the water and sent Bellamy and two other crows careening backward into the pond with splutters and splashes.
“My, my!” Crookie whistled. “Look at the wings on that boy! Oh! I swear, I’m in love!”
Gabriel felt a new power and confidence, as though something in him had been unlocked by the touch of the crow’s blade. He could see more clearly and hear more keenly, and he could intuit what the crows were feeling. They were frightened. They were actually frightened of him!
When Gabriel was through, six crows had been dunked in the pond. The rest remained at a safe distance, including Crookie. “Huh-haw!” she chuckled. “You’re quite the character, aren’t you, goosey?”
“Aw, it’s just an ignorant goose!” Bellamy spluttered as he dragged himself out of the water. “Dumb as mud and useless as a log, I say! It’s sparras that we want, anyway. We’ll take care of the goose another time. Right now we’re off to hunt sparra.” On his orders, the crows took to the sky. “Not you, Crookie! You stay and keep an eye on that goose. I don’t trust it.”
“Yes, sir!” said Crookie dramatically. “I will watch whilst you hunt the mighty sparrow in the forest! Godspeed, Sir Bellamy!”
“Er . . . yes,” Bellamy growled. “Yes. And you . . . as well. Don’t lose him!”
“Haw! How am I ever going to lose a bird so big? Not to mention one so handsome!”
At that Bellamy simply shook his head and flew into the forest, the rest of his crows following eagerly.
Gabriel began to swim toward a cove that was out of the crow’s line of vision and well away from Briarloch, hoping to shake the odd old bird assigned to watch him. But Crookie would not leave him be.
“Where ya goin’, handsome?” she teased, flying over his head. “I’m not lettin’ you out of my sight, orders or no orders. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. So, why don’t you and I get to know each other? Whaddaya say, mister? Say, you are a mister, ain’t ya?”
Gabriel remained silent and aloof.
“Still don’t wanna talk, eh?”
Gabriel said nothing.
“Well, if we’re gonna be up all night, I don’t mind doin’ the talking. Keeps me awake, it does. Runs in my family. Insomnia, that is. I remember once, my grandfather told me a story that was a week long. I’m not kidding! I listened to the whole thing and never slept a wink in all that time. It was about this tiny crow named Napoleon, who was about the size of a hummingbird. Well, Napoleon, he developed an attitude on account of his being so di-min-u-tive — that means tiny —” And Crookie was off, launching into what turned out to be a very long story.
Eventually, Gabriel decided to just close his eyes, thinking that perhaps if Crookie saw that he had fallen asleep, she would cease her prattle or, better still, doze off herself. He tucked his head under his wing and waited. Crookie droned on and on.
Gabriel’s thoughts drifted. He thought about the oppressed sparrows and about the bullying, demented crows. He wished, more than anything, that he were flying southward. Not that he wanted to abandon his shipmates. No, he wanted them to come with him, but he needed to migrate. Why south, he didn’t quite know, but it needed to be south. He had been so restless of late, and an urge to fly had grown overwhelming. Though he had tried several times recently, he had so far succeeded only in planing awkwardly over the surface of the water.
This evening, however, had been different. When provoked by the crows, he had risen out of the water and felt for a moment as if he was actually flying. I’d fly out of here right now if I knew my friends were safe, Gabriel thought.
“Snooork!” came a sound from the trees. “Snoooora-ka-ka-ka-kak!”
Gabriel opened an eye and peeked out from under his wing.
“Snooork!”
It was Crookie, snoring in her sleep!
Finally! thought Gabriel. Slowly and quietly, so as not to wake the crow, he paddled away.
When he was halfway around the pond, Gabriel stopped to listen. He heard the wind, a fe
w faltering crickets, the deep echo of water lapping up against the bank, the growl of his own stomach, and, in the distance, the crows.
Gabriel hadn’t eaten for hours. Plants and minnows brushed against his feet and legs just below the surface, but he did not dare stop until he was back with his friends. He continued paddling along, when he felt something like cold fingers touch his legs. Panicked, he raised his wings and kicked his foot to strike at whatever might be down there. A dark shape swam into view and broke the surface of the water. “Goose,” came a sputtering, wheezing whisper. “It’s me, Hillary!”
“Hillary?” Hillary’s head was barely above the surface of the water, and all Gabriel could see was the mole’s nose wiggling in the darkness.
“Shhh! Cover me with your wing!” said the mole.
“What?” whispered Gabriel.
“Cover me,” Hillary repeated. “Pretend you are preening so we can talk without being discovered.”
Gabriel stretched a wing over his friend and then tucked his head. “Am I ever glad to see you,” Gabriel said. “How are the others?”
“They’re unhappy but safe. I took them through my tunnels to an abandoned den on the other side of the pond,” said Hillary. “It’s crowded and overgrown, but it gives them a view of the pond and Briarloch. I thought that might keep their spirits up.”
“Is Junco there?” asked Gabriel.
“She’s taken up a position in a tree above our hideout,” whispered the mole. “It’s a good vantage point, or so she says.”
“What should I be doing?” asked Gabriel.
“Be patient. This may take a while. . . .” said Hillary. “As for what to do, Junco suggests you practice your flying skills. Flying might come in handy, very handy soon . . .”
“What is the plan?” asked Gabriel.
Hillary sniffed the air. “I don’t know for sure, but I believe Jay intends to make a stand against Teach.”
The words filled Gabriel with a surge of excitement in his heart. He knew he was ready to knock a few hundred crows senseless, if it would rid Briarloch of Teach’s tyranny and return the pirates to the skies. What was more, he was confident that he could do just that! He wanted to tell Hillary all of this but instead hissed, “I’ll be ready!” with such steely determination that it unnerved Hillary.
“Well, so . . . yes . . .” stammered the mole. “I’ll come back later with more information. I will pull at your foot, you pretend to preen, and I’ll surface up under your wing just as we did tonight. And if you could please refrain from kicking me in the face, I’d very much appreciate it.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry about that.”
“All right, then, I’m off,” said the mole, sniffing the air once more. “By the way, there’s a crow watching you from the shore. Take good care and stay calm, goose.” And with that, Hillary took a deep breath and dove under, leaving Gabriel alone but with a renewed sense of purpose in anticipation of the battle ahead.
“Good morning, darlin’. Sleep well?” said Crookie.
Dawn was breaking, and in the dim light, Gabriel was barely able to distinguish the crow’s silhouette deep within the branches of a nearby tree.
Gabriel remained silent.
“What? Still not talking to poor Crookie?” she said, acting as if she had been jilted.
In response, Gabriel simply turned tail and paddled away.
“What are you doing here, anyway, sweetie?” cooed Crookie in a sincere voice. “You’re a goose. You’re supposed to be free from . . . all this sort of mess.”
Here Crookie caught Gabriel by surprise. He turned around just as she hopped out of the shadows and into the daylight. It was his first look at the crow who had been harassing him all night, and what he saw made him gasp. Crookie was a big old crow, with one dead eye that shone pearly white beneath the short brim of a tattered black bowler hat. Feathers from a variety of birds stuck out at odd angles from the hat’s headband. Her large, crooked beak appeared to have been broken many times. She wore a black coat with countless bulging pockets — some with torn seams or frayed edges that revealed bits of their contents: a vine here, a mouse tail there. She bore no weapons that Gabriel could see, but on her back was a rucksack made of skunk fur that looked like a small animal clinging to her shoulders.
Her appearance made him squeamish, and he wanted to redirect his gaze. At the same time, he was determined to look straight into her eyes and not reveal his fear or discomfort.
“Ah! Now you see how horrible old Crookie is. But still, you do not fly away,” she said in a hushed tone. “You are a polite gander.” Crookie hopped out farther on the limb and leaned in close to Gabriel. Her horribly mangled beak barely moved as she whispered, “Fly, goose! Why don’t you fly?” She was no longer loud and mocking, but quietly sincere.
Gabriel was surprised by the question. He began to say, “I can’t . . .” and then changed to “I won’t! I’m staying here till I . . . I’ve rested, then I’ll be moving on!” He immediately wished that he had remained silent.
“Hmmmm. That’s better! Now we’re talking,” said Crookie with a smile. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
Oh, why did he speak to her? Now the questions would never end. He knew that he didn’t want her to know his real name, so he said the first name that came into his head. “Henry, my name is Henry!”
“Henry?” Crookie smiled as if she knew he was lying. “That’s a nice name. Now tell me, Henry, where will you be going once you decide that it’s time to go?”
Gabriel had to think quickly, and since he had no idea where he might go if he actually were going anywhere, he said, “North!”
Crookie looked puzzled by this, as fall was coming soon and the cool weather prompted the great southern migration of ducks and geese. Gabriel realized his mistake and said, “South, I’m heading south!” and felt very foolish, indeed.
Crookie did not question his sudden change of direction but looked concerned and asked, “What are you doin’ out here alone, Henry? Where’s your flock? Have you lost them?”
This put Gabriel on the defensive. He was certain that she was probing to discover the whereabouts of his friends. “Go away! Leave me alone!” said Gabriel, and he swam away from her.
Crookie lit from the branch and hovered over his head, urging him on. “That’s it, Henry! Fly! This is a bad place for you. Now, fly! Go to your flock!”
Gabriel flapped his wings and managed to lift himself and his feet out of the water just enough to skim the surface of the pond for a few yards before crashing into the tall grasses near shore.
“That was good! Real good, Henry!” said Crookie from above.
Gabriel had had quite enough of the confounding crow. He snapped his beak at her and yanked out one of her tail feathers.
“Aaaow! You monster!” screamed the crow. She retreated to a nearby branch and proceeded to bawl, “Boo-a-hooo! Boo-a-hooo!” The old crow sat hunched on the branch, covered her face with her wings, and wept what appeared to be real tears.
Gabriel moved tentatively in her direction, feeling bad, though no small part of his nature told him to keep his distance.
“Boo-a-hooo! Boo-a-hooo!”
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel ventured. “Please — are you all right?”
“Boo-a-hooo! Boo-a-hooo!”
“Please,” said Gabriel, moving closer.
“You beast!” Crookie sobbed. “I thought you were something special. But you’re just like the rest of us, lashin’ out at one another till we hardly resemble birds at all! Boo-a-hooo!”
“I’m . . . please . . . sorry,” stammered Gabriel. “I thought you were trying to trick me and . . . and I was angry.”
“Angry?” said Crookie, looking up suddenly. Her white eye was now flushed pink. “Let me tell you about the fruits of anger, mister. Better yet, let me show you. Just take a look at me: scarred, bumped and bruised, salty and overripe as a result of holding tight to anger. Now, tell me: what do you have to be angry about? I’
m trying to help you, fool!”
Gabriel lowered his head in shame. “Oh. I thought . . . I thought you were teasing me.”
“I was trying to talk with you, for grub’s sake!” she said, lowering her voice to a hoarse whisper. “I felt sorry for you! You seemed lonely out here. Besides that . . . this is not the best place for you to call home after the drubbing you gave Bellamy last night. He’ll be back to settle up with you once he’s slaughtered a few sparrows for his amusement. Have no doubt about that. He’s the worst of all of them — greedy, vengeful, and stupid, all in one. So, Henry, as much as I had thought you’d be a decent sort to pal around with, you oughta think about shoving off real soon.”
“I won’t —” Gabriel began, about to say he wouldn’t leave his friends, then thought better of it, still unsure about Crookie and not wanting to give away his alliances. And then he admitted the truth. “I mean, I can’t. I can’t fly.” Gabriel lowered his head. “And my name’s not Henry. I made that up. My name is Gabriel.”
“Well, that’s better, then! You didn’t seem like a Henry to me,” said Crookie. “Henry the goose. Ha-ha! No, it just doesn’t have the proper ring to it, does it?”
Gabriel smiled. “I guess not.”
“Now, Gabriel,” said Crookie, “what is this you were saying about not being able to fly?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Can’t fly yet,” he said.
“Oh, sure ya can! I’ve seen you rise out of the water twice already. All ya need to do is make a couple of adjustments and you’ll be cruising. Here, now, give it a try.” She gestured toward the water. “Start over near Briarloch and head for the far shore. I’ll watch your form.”
“All right. All right, I’ll give it a try.”
Gabriel swam over to Briarloch, which lay silent and still as an abandoned nest. Gabriel shuddered, then turned to face the opposite shore. He took a deep breath, stretched out his neck, and started to churn his legs furiously, as though running. He plowed through the water in a great tumult of foam and spray and splash, pumping his wings up and down, up and down. Foomph foomph! Foomph foomph! He felt himself lifting out of the water. His wings rippled the surface with every beat. He was just about to soar higher when the brush on the opposite shore suddenly loomed right there in front of him. Before he could stop himself, Gabriel crashed and tumbled into the brambles, wings flailing, feet snagging on the vines.