Autumn in the Forest

Autumn in the Forest

Thursday, December 8, 2016

"An Act of Mercy"


This is the opening scene of "Season of Crows."   
 
Ash twitched his tail as he watched the nearly naked chick plummet to earth from its nest. Its tiny body with its fragile outstretched wings tumbled through the air, spinning in sickening cartwheels until it landed in the high green and gold grass of the meadow. Ash looked up to see a jet black crow clutching the little fellow’s sibling in its beak. With a triumphant cackle, it flapped its wings and flew off to the oak wood across the way, its meal dangling limply from its greedy mouth.

The chick’s parents were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were driven off by that crow, Ash thought grimly. The young mouse made his way along the well-worn path that wove between the clumps of grass growing near the meadow’s edge. When he reached the spot where he thought the chick had landed, he set down his gathering basket and scanned the ground. A slight gasp from above startled him, and he jumped back, ready to spring for safety.
 
Caught in a clump of last year’s dried grass stalks, the body of the chick hung upside down, its tiny bright beak opening and closing, uttering only a faint gasp. Carefully parting the grasses so as not to let the chick fall further, Ash clamored up the stiff shafts until he reached the little fellow. Placing his mouth gingerly around its middle like a mother mouse, Ash climbed back down and set the chick on the cool earth. He examined it carefully. Its skin was a ruddy pink and dotted with bizarrely placed patches of fluffy down. The beak was bright and wide, revealing a red, hungry throat as it opened and closed in silent cries. It had no eyes, only the bulging blue promise of them beneath transparent eyelids. To Ash's dismay, the chick’s left wing stuck out at an odd angle. Broken at the shoulder, I’d imagine, the young mouse thought.

High above him, the nest sat cockeyed in the crook of a branch, ripped grasses and fibers dangling loosely. The parents were certain not to return to such a nest. Ash glanced out over the meadow, scratching at his torn ear as he searched for wisdom. What would his mother and father have done? Would they have let nature take its course and leave the chick as it lay, or would they follow their hearts and take the injured chick back to Evershade? Ash didn’t even know what kind of bird it was. Would it grow to be a hunter, endangering the residents of Evershade if it were allowed to stay?

The little fellow's bright yellow beak opened and closed again as its tiny chest rose and fell rapidly. In a moment Ash had made his decision. He would take this tiny hatchling to Evershade and present it to the king. His Majesty could decide what to do with it.
 
 
Please visit Amazon or Barnes and Noble to order your copy of “Season of Crows” today, and please remember to leave a review once you’ve read it. (I now review every book I read because I know how important they are for authors.)
 


 

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