When he got close, he heard the halting cries of crows from sticky webs in the trees, and nets. He cursed and drew out an arrow, taking careful aim at a cardinal sentry. But just before he let the bowstring go, somebird else’s arrow flew out of the darkness, brushing the feathers on his head. His shot went wild as he turned to face a large cardinal who swooped down from a branch. He had a bow in his claw and a quiver on his back, with knives and darts in his belt.

“I am Flame-back, leader of the Sunrise tribe,” the cardinal said in a threatening voice. “Leave now and I will let you go with your life.”

“Never, fool! Death to you!” Shadow hissed, and lunged at him, saber flashing. Flame-back nimbly skipped away and with a twang shot another arrow at the scout. Shadow ducked, the shaft whistling by his ear. “Fight with me if you dare!” he growled. But Flame-back turned and flew out of his sight.

Furious, the scout dived after him. He came to another camp tree but didn’t see the cardinal. He listened intently. Suddenly he snatched out a knife and threw it. The long knife first split an arrow that came from that direction and then landed with a muffled thud somewhere out of Shadow’s sight. There was a soft moan. Shadow, his eyes shining with malice, eagerly rushed toward the sound. His black cape billowed behind him like a ghost.

The wounded Flame-back didn’t give up. He yanked the knife out of his side and with a grunt used it to block a deathblow aimed at him from Shadow’s saber. He scrambled up, and the two birds clashed in a blur of blades. Crows are naturally larger than cardinals, so Flame-back’s chance of winning the battle was slim. But his angry face and the unusual amount of weaponry on him made Shadow a little uncertain. And Flame-back was extremely quick-clawed and agile, so before long the scout was breathing hard.

Neither seemed to gain an advantage as they parried and thrust around the camp trees. The air filled with the clangs of metal.

Shadow laughed and managed to quickly wrench Flame-back’s knife out of his claws, but just as fast Flame-back pulled out a scimitar and lunged at Shadow. The sudden movement caught Shadow off guard. The scout immediately lost his smile as a good number of feathers were chopped off, leaving a patch of skin bare.

Shadow was infuriated. “You’ll pay for that, scalawag!” He charged at the cardinal again. The scout’s saber sliced a piece of flesh from Flame-back’s claw, and the cardinal dropped his scimitar in pain. Seeing his chance, Shadow aimed blow after blow at Flame-back, and the cardinal could only duck and retreat.

“Hold on! I’m coming, Flame-back!” Skylion rushed to join the battle. He tossed a sword to the cardinal leader, and together they battled with the scout. Two were too many for Shadow; he turned and fled. Flame-back and Skylion tailed behind.

“Here, raven!” Flame-back roared angrily, and shot dart after dart at him. One struck Shadow’s behind, and the scout yelped, almost falling to the ground. But the dart hadn’t gone deep, and Shadow flew even faster.

Flame-back gathered all the strength he had to rush after the scout. He seized the raven’s cape and pulled with all his might. Skylion joined him, and together they tried to yank Shadow back to the camp. They almost succeeded, but then the crafty scout cut his cape off with his saber.

After he had freed himself, Shadow spun around and aimed his saber at Flame-back. The cardinal leader ducked, but he was a little slow. The blade bit deep into his shoulder. Thrown off-balance, the cardinal fell to the ground.

Roaring, Skylion gave the scout a solid wing clout, battering his head.

Flame-back regained his balance and yelled, “Archers, fire!”

From the treetops nearby, heads of cardinals and blue jays popped out in neat rows, bowstrings drawn back. Shadow dropped his saber and tried to flee. Too late.

Bows went singing. Arrows whistled from all directions, piercing the scout’s skin. With a horrendous shriek Shadow rose into the air. He disappeared into the night, followed by another volley of arrows and angry shouts.

Skylion flew to Flame-beak. “I’m all right,” the cardinal leader said. “My side is cut, and so is my shoulder. But they’ll heal.”

“I gave that raven a wing clout he won’t soon forget,” Skylion added. “Our archers did a wonderful job. He won’t be around for a while.”

Skylion and Flame-back were immediately surrounded by the Sunrise and Bluewingle warriors. When the red and the blue shifted their gaze to the crows and ravens trapped in the nets and webs, anger and hate boiled in their chests.

“Throw stones at them!” a blue jay roared. Many voices agreed.

“Don’t, my friends,” Skylion said gently. “They are now helpless and can’t harm us. We will take them prisoner and release them one day, far from Stone-Run. But we cannot be murderers. They have a right to live, as do all creatures that fly, swim, or run on this beautiful earth. Swordbird would not wish us to wrench their lives away.”

18 LIVING ON HOPE

In the cave Aska bathed Miltin’s wounds with springwater, spread a mountain herb poultice on them, and bandaged them gently. Miltin smiled his thanks, and then his eyes drifted shut.

Realizing that Miltin urgently needed something to eat, Aska went outside to seek food. Crawling among the boggy puddles, the blue jay cropped the soft tips of new moss and put them in her bag. But then Asa spied a small golden blossom amidst the dull green, its petals fluttering in the light breeze. The blue jay stood there motionless, watching the flower bloom in the misty coldness. She knew every plant of the woodlands by heart, but she had never seen such a flower before.

“Oh, how could something so beautiful live here? Is it a magic plant sent by Swordbird?” Aska whispered. “Thank you, Swordbird! Miltin can be saved!” Aska dug out every bit of the flower with care and rushed back to the cave.

Aska put the golden flower and the moss into a pot of springwater over the fire and stirred them with a spoon. The pot boiled, giving off a delightful smell.

The roots, leaves, and petals bobbed in the soup as if they were saying temptingly, “Eat, eat…”

Oh, how Aska wanted to taste it! “No! Miltin needs every drop of it to survive!” she told herself firmly.

She poured the soup into a bowl and gently woke the robin. Miltin attempted to hold the spoon, but he was too weak to do so. She fed him sip by sip. But after a spell Miltin refused to eat any more. “You need it to keep up your strength too!” he said.

“But you’re injured! You need it more than I do.”

“But who will gather food if you fall sick from starvation?” Miltin returned.

Aska laughed and agreed to sip a few spoonfuls yet left most of the soup for Miltin. Aska started to feed the robin again, and he meekly opened his beak to the soup spoon like a hatchling.

“It tastes…like spring…” Miltin whispered. He swallowed another beakful. “Like…like…”

“It’s the taste of a golden flower, the taste of hope,” the blue jay finished.