Berta put her arms around Cook and held her with the understanding only another mother could give. “You’ll be together in the high home. Until then, you must share my girl with me.”
They sat and Cook was comforted enough to smile when Luff bellowed his outrage at being pronounced “it.”
Flowing over the top of the wall, a gentle breeze caressed the women on the bench before gusting to cool the flushed cheeks of the tag players. Rising in a sudden rush, it raced over the hills of Mount Pasture. At the border of the kingdom, other breezes joined it, increasing its speed until it was hurtling over a wide range of midsized mountains.
When it reached a group of high mountains with white peaks, the breeze-turned-gale soared up one of them, roaring through the rocks at its top. Perched inside a stony nook, a bright blue bird woke with a start.
“Don’t be afraid, little one. I am here.”
The bird sang a single note of its song before tucking its head back under a tuft of feathers.
Stars hung above, peaks and valleys lay below, and endless leaves rustled on thousands of trees as night settled over Montaland.
The End
About the Author
S. G. (Sally) Byrd has never seen a high home animal but would very much like to. Some of her favorite things are mountains, big dogs, and hot gooey brownies with vanilla ice cream on top. Some of her least favorite things are fat English peas—the ones that look like wax, bushes with pointed leaves that stab her as she walks past, and wiggly animals that don’t have legs.
Sally lives in Durham, NC, and has previously published The Brueggen Stones, Under the Golden Mists, and The Opal Cavern.
Follow Sally at:
www.sgbyrd.com
facebook.com/sg.byrd.3
twitter.com/sgbyrd22
Captives of the Fern Queen Page 18