Miltin woke up early the next morning. To his surprise, the pain in his shoulder from the arrow wound had lessened, and the cuts and slashes from the Sklarkills’ spears no longer burned and ached. He tried a practice flight and found that his wings worked nearly as well as before.

Miltin rushed back to the cave to tell Aska the good news. “Don’t you think it’s strange that I can fly again?” Miltin grinned. “Let’s go out of the ravine and fly down the mountains now!”

I was right! Aska thought with wonder. That golden flower must be a magical herb sent by Swordbird! Thank you again, Swordbird!

Still, she was worried. Miltin seemed better and stronger, but his wounds were not completely healed. Aska forced him to wait until she finished checking and changing his bandages. The wound in his shoulder was the worst, deep and only half healed, and a long day of flying yesterday had already strained it.

The two set off.

The mist, as they went down the mountains, faded into a clear blue sky, so welcoming that it made Aska’s heart sing and Miltin’s heart soar.

“The Waterthorn tribe! Mother, Father, here I come!” Miltin yelled to the sunny forest below.

19 MILTIN’S WISH

It was nearly noon when Aska and Miltin flew over a river.

“Look! That’s the Rockwell River, which leads to my home!” Miltin called excitedly.

“We must be near then!” Aska cried. “When do you think we should reach there?”

Miltin did a loop in the air. “In a couple of hours at the latest,” he whooped. But as he flipped upright again, a sudden pain seized him, causing his left wing to buckle. He dropped down.

“Miltin!” Aska gasped. She dived after him. Fortunately the robin landed safely on the deck of a boat, the Rippledew, which was passing by. Aska came down beside him, steadying him with a wing.

The skipper of the boat came behind them. “Ahoy there, Miltin!” he called merrily. “Looks like you need a ride to the Waterthorn, eh? I hope you haven’t forgotten me.”

Miltin turned around. “Why, can it be…” His eyes widened in surprise. “Quaykkel Lekkyauq!”

“You got that right!” exclaimed the gray duck. He noticed Miltin’s bandages and asked, “Are you wounded, Miltin?”

“Nothing serious, thanks,” he murmured.

The duck looked skeptical. “You’ve had some adventures; that’s clear,” he said. “Well…it’s noontime, so why don’t you have lunch with me and tell me what’s been happening to you?”

“Oh, wonderful!” Miltin perked up. He felt as if he hadn’t eaten a meal for ages.

They went to the galley and ate plum puddings and spicy salmon stew. Over the meal Miltin told the skipper about Turnatt, his escape, and the need for a Leasorn gem.

As he spoke, a sudden shiver rippled through Miltin. He winced as the movement triggered pains all over his body. The aid from Swordbird’s magical flower was waning. He coughed and pretended to choke on the stew. It didn’t fool Aska. She shot him a look, but Miltin turned his head away.

After lunch Aska and Miltin went back outside to the deck. She peered closely at his bandages and gasped as she saw a new patch of red soaking through the white linen around the robin’s shoulder. “Miltin, are your wounds worse?” she demanded.

“No. I’m-I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth,” Aska said quietly.

Miltin gazed into the distance. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “I’m not. If I had let you know the truth, you’d have insisted on stopping to nurse me. But it won’t matter if I let you know now, since we’re so close to my home.”

He paused and sighed. “My wounds can’t be healed. All those days of being a slavebird have worn my body down.” His head shot up; his eyes filled with anger. “Aska, you can’t possibly imagine how I was tortured at Fortress Glooming, for you’ve never experienced the cruel whip lashings, the painful beatings.”

“I know, Miltin. I can’t imagine how it must have been,” Aska whispered.

Miltin lowered his gaze. “You see, Aska…whenever I think of saving Stone-Run and my fellow slavebirds, I forget all my pain.”

Just at that moment Quaykkel came over. “Ho, Miltin, I’ve dropped by to tell you we’re at the Waterthorn!” he called. Miltin’s face lit up when he turned his head and saw the familiar, beautiful woods not far ashore.

He and Aska thanked Quaykkel and bade him farewell. They headed toward Miltin’s home.

Miltin flew over the shore that he knew so well, his heart pounding. Mother! Father! Where are you? he called in his heart. Aska followed, trying to catch up. She thought it strange that Miltin was able to fly so fast all of a sudden. The joy of seeing his home must have given him new strength.

Miltin turned back to point out a place to Aska. “See that, Aska? It’s my home!” he called eagerly. Aska looked ahead. At the end of the meadow of red blossoms was a verdant grove of maples, flashing all shades of green. Silhouettes of birds were visible among the trees; songs could be heard faintly.

Just as they landed at the edge of the grove, a few robins hurried out. “Look, it’s Miltin! Miltin!” They clustered around him, chattering with excitement. Two of them dashed back to the trees to tell Miltin’s parents, all the while shouting to every other bird, “Miltin’s back! Miltin’s back!”

The whole Waterthorn tribe gathered around Miltin at his parents’ nest house. Before he got to the door, his parents were already there, greeting him with tears in their eyes.

Miltin dipped his head. “I’m back, Mother, Father,” he said.

Miltin’s mother quickly helped him up. “I’m not dreaming, am I, my son? Let me take a closer look at you…” she murmured lovingly. “Goodness! Why are you wearing bandages? Are you wounded?”

His father, Reymarsh, helped him through the door. “Let’s go into the room first, Miltin. You must be tired.”

After they had settled comfortably on cushions, Miltin spoke. “Mother, Father, this is Aska, of Stone-Run Forest. She is here to ask if she can borrow our Leasorn gem.”

“What happened? That hawk again?” Reymarsh quickly asked with grave concern.

“The hawk Turnatt made me and the other captives slavebirds at his fortress in Stone-Run. He also attacked Aska’s tribe and other birds there. They need our help. Father, you must lead your troops to Stone-Run with the Leasorn tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, or it’ll be too late. Turnatt will attack Aska’s tribe.”

There was silence. “You need a good rest,” Reymarsh said in a low voice. “And you know the ritual didn’t work perfectly. Swordbird didn’t stay long enough, and we don’t know why.”

“Promise me you will go tomorrow…” Miltin begged.

Reymarsh nodded slowly. Miltin faintly smiled. He opened his beak as if to say something more but suddenly collapsed.

The room was in a turmoil. Miltin’s mother called his name again and again. The medicine bird quickly came. “Miltin is in danger, I’m afraid,” he reported gravely after an examination.

Miltin’s mother burst into tears. “How can you be in such a state, Miltin?” she wailed. “You were healthy and well before you were captured! How can you be so sick after just over a month?”

“Madame, you need to be calm. Let Miltin rest,” the medicine bird said.

After a few hours Miltin’s eyelids fluttered and opened a crack, revealing his dry and tired eyes. He did nothing but breathe raspingly for a long time. His head spun with dizziness and pain, and he could hardly see anything but numerous spots before his eyes. He felt as if his whole body were in a bonfire.