The Bluebirds Were Her Friends 3/5
CHAPTER SEVEN
Zareen was their neighbor’s name, as Mr. Bluebird had learned. She was not a giant, either. She was a person. A woman-person.
Mr. Bluebird paused during his explanation. He wanted to make sure he was being accurate, so he hopped two steps over to confer with Shay, who answered the small bird’s questions and offered a bit of encouragement.
“You’re doing great,” Shay said, smiling. “Keep going.”
Tawny fluttered back to Mrs. Bluebird and continued to explain what Shay had told him. He had said that he and Zareen were not giants. They were people. Even though his skin looked different, Shay was a person, too, just like Zareen was. He was a different kind of person, though. He was a man-person, as far as Tawny understood.
Tawny informed Bonny that a group of persons was called “people” and that people were incredible creatures. They did not lay eggs, but they did have children. They lived in nests, too, only they called them houses. That meant the Bluebirds actually lived on top of Zareen’s house, not a cave.
Bonny accepted the news somberly. She had heard the word “people” before but thought it was an attempt at crude humor. To think that such beings had existed all along, right beneath her beak. She shivered. It was hard to believe what Tawny said, but when she thought about it, Bonny could see the truth of what he was saying. She had noticed the strange houses appearing more often in the jungle, smelled the smoke from their chimneys. It seemed improbable that these people would come so far out into the jungle, but the person Shay—who had shared this information with Tawny—seemed honest enough. On top of that, he had saved her husband from the murderous Tash Snake. Even if she needed time to accept the idea of people invading her homeland, Bonny needed far less to accept Shay as a friend.
Mrs. Bluebird stepped forward, leaving Mr. Bluebird to mind their eggs, and thanked Shay for saving her husband. She told him she was a small bird of little wealth, but that she had a secret stash of seeds. If he was willing to wait, she would bring them as a reward. Bonny was not sure exactly what people ate, but Shay was welcome to the seeds if he wanted them.
“Your friendship is gift enough, my lady.”
Bonny, confused, cocked her head at the word “lady,” but she understood the man’s meaning well enough.
“There is one thing you can do for me, though.” Shay looked about conspiratorially. The bluebirds copied the movement, though they did not know what they were supposed to be on the lookout for. “Would you happen to know where I can get cleaned up?”
The pair chirped that they did. They had heard Zareen splashing in her house—splashing and singing. As bluebirds, they were familiar with the sounds of a bath. He could use hers! They were still overwhelmed by the day’s events; it was perhaps forgivable that they should forget guests were meant to be invited. Shay thanked them for their help and slipped around the back of Zareen’s cottage to avoid being seen. He checked the door there and finding it locked, whispered a brief spell to let himself into Zareen’s home.
There was a washroom in the hallway, and inside sat a metal tub still full from an earlier bath. Shay thanked his luck and placed his hands on the rim. Power coursed through him, but he kept a lid on it; too much and he would give himself away. He let his magic hum until the water began to steam, then cut it off. It stung him to step away from the flow so abruptly, but he preferred to stay hidden. He did not want his family to catch him.
Shay stripped down and sank into the warm water. When he was finished with his bath, he changed back into his travel clothes, which had used the time off his body to patch and purify themselves. With both his skin and attire freshened, Shay stepped into the hallway, his mind turning toward the kitchen. He was hungry, though not yet famished.
Outside the cottage, Bonny and Tawny watched in dismay as Zareen stumbled out of the jungle. She fell face first into her own backyard, bleeding from three large wounds on her back. The Bluebirds dropped their snacks and fluttered above her, but she could not understand their cries like Shay had. Realizing their helplessness, the birds swooped toward the house, shouting for the stranger to come out. Shay heard them and, chuckling, stepped into the backyard to see what the fuss was about.
“Typical bluebirds,” he said to himself. “Save them once and suddenly you are their—”
He stopped short. Zareen was on the ground, dragging herself toward the cottage. Her hands were caked in a dark mud where the backyard dirt had met her blood-soaked skin. She managed to pull herself as far as the well—where the Tash Snake still lurked in the shadows—before she finally collapsed. Shay rushed to her, scooping her into his arms just as the snake hissed from atop the stones.
Shay glared at the creature, a hard, cold look that sent it slithering into the dark, then he carried Zareen back toward the door. Just before they crossed the threshold, she reached up, brushing the back of her hand against his cheek. She smiled at him, weakly.
“Is this another dream?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Under Shay’s care, Zareen healed quickly and soon the bluebirds saw them out in the garden less and less. They were neither worried nor offended, however. They understood what was unfolding between these people. They were birds, after all, and knew what love looked like. It was for the best, anyway, because they had their own wonders to attend to. Their eggs were ready to hatch! The life inside each egg had grown restless, surprising the parents nestled on top of them. It was the egg beneath Mrs. Bluebird that cracked first, followed a minute later by the one under Mr. Bluebird.
The babies pecked their way through their eggshells and, with their parents’ help, entered a strange world of blaring sounds and dizzying colors. The newborns squeaked, heavy heads wobbling on spindly necks, and stretched open their brightly colored mouths to demand food.
Drawn by the hatchlings’ frantic squawks, the Tash Snake coiled into the branches overlooking the nest. As it watched the new parents tend to their chicks, it licked the air, tasting the scent of opportunity. Two babies were harder to shield than one, and soon, one of the bluebirds would have to leave the nest to find food. When that happened, the Tash Snake would strike.
The snake waited, calculating which bird it would kill first. Would it take whichever bird wandered off alone and then double back to pick off the rest? The large, green-skinned man had left the house earlier that morning. He was strong—as the lingering ache from his crushing grip could attest—but the Tash Snake was certain that even he could not be in two places at once.
The Tash Snake slipped deeper into the shadows as it studied its meal. The smaller appetizers were coated in a raw, earthy fragrance, and the larger entrees were hard at work grooming them. The snake watched as, once the ordeals of hatching and cleaning were finished, the entire family fell into an exhausted sleep, hatchlings huddled together beneath their parents’ wings.
From its high vantage point in the tree, the snake scanned its surroundings. Seeing no one, it began its descent, uncoiling and recoiling as it slid from branch to branch. It was just about to drop onto the cottage’s roof when the front door swung open. Fearing discovery, the snake froze and pulled itself back into the safety of the shade.
Zareen stepped from her cottage and moved quietly past the bluebirds’ nest. Seeing the new family asleep, she took care not to disturb them. She retrieved a basket from beside the cottage’s wall and headed out into her garden, never noticing the Tash Snake’s green and brown coils curled around the branches directly above her.
