STORY: The Birds Speak to Me

Sarachel was freezing as the mountain-pass wind and rain tried to strip her of her cloak. She had already ripped it when she had tripped off the cliff edge and slid half-way back down. She cursed the birds that had led her here.

She thought back to how birds had guided her in her life. Her best guess was that birds were how the great creator spoke to her. Most of the time birds, showing up at pivotal moments, had just made her life harder. Was the creator simply a sadist? That's okay. She would still follow, but was not happy about it. Life was already rough enough.

She remembered when she had been praying about how her mother would find food to feed their family. The next day a dove randomly had brought in its beak the receipt from the village grocer. It had landed on their clothes line in the clearing by their little creek. When the dove would not seem to shoo away, Sarachel picked up the receipt. And studied it. It was a receipt that showed the grocer had just gotten a restock of eggs, and the price had been crossed out and on it was written "a gift". The bird still would not shoo away until she asked the bird, "Am I supposed to go ask the grocer for eggs?" Immediately, the bird flitted away.

But she feared this grocer. He was the harshest, shrewdest person she knew. That big nose with all the bumps on it and his smell of mildew that came off him as he moved. When she finally did go and ask him, he had cursed her for begging, like she expected, which pummeled her tender heart like it always did. But then he had given her a long glare as if thinking. He went behind the shop and brought back an egg that he gave her with a smirk. "I'll give you an egg," he said, "but you can't eat this one." He seemed to take some sort of pride in denying her what she had asked for.

He shouted her out and turned to another customer before she had gotten to ask why. The other customers avoided this dirty little peasant girl as she walked out. But after walking an hour toward home, and crying for being so mistreated, she felt a tapping from inside the egg. It soon hatched and they had a chicken that lived off their land and gave them eggs every day.

After that day, by the way, she swore she would never let someone who was mean scare her away from what one of her bird messengers told her to do.

That chicken had become her little constant friend for three years until the chicken was eaten by one of the giant wolves that had begun encroaching the city from the mountain above the town. Sarachel's house was a half hour walk up into this very mountain. Heartbreak and now fear had found her little heart again.

Then Sarachel, when a plague had also begun to pick off the most vulnerable in their town, had found an albatross, strangely far from any shore, come and seem to take away discarded waste from around their messy homestead. He carried bit by bit away in his large bill.

At first she was indignant for they were very poor and even what they had was being taken by the creator. She tried to shoo him away. And at one point she found herself in a strange standoff. But the bird turned his face so that one big eye seemed to look at her in a way that said, "I can see something you can't. I know you're scared, but trust me." And Sarachel reluctantly stepped aside and let the bird gobble up another load of old broken things. As she saw the broad white wings of this majestic bird flapping gracefully, and looked back at the cleared part of a wall, she started to be enchanted by the allure of cleanliness and beauty. Where the bird removed dirt beautiful flowers were trying to grow.

From that time on, this spurred her on to seek cleanliness and beauty, whenever possible. In her surroundings, on what she wore, in the attention she gave to her hair. This was unusual in the town which was mainly focused on it's own survival. Not only did she realize this helped protect them from fostering the plague, but it helped her grow into an understanding of her own dignity.

And several more memories throughout her young life had brought her to have just enough trust in these birds to do finally do this now, something no one in the town would do.

The giant wolves had begun to take cows from her neighbors' farms. And were now becoming bold enough to walk through the streets of the town at night. Many people had told stories of seeing through their windows, only their huge paws and long legs padding through the street outside, for no one would dare get closer to the windows to risk being seen by these beasts. Homeless beggars had disappeared with less than a yelp as their goodbye. Tails thudded and shook the frames of houses as they turned to leap.

But now she had seen eagles circling high, high above their house. Her mother's vision was not good enough anymore to see them, but Sarachel swore they were waiting for her to follow them. Eventually at night, when everyone was safe behind heavily boarded doors, Sarachel set out, up the mountain. She could not see them well, but whenever there was enough of a clearing she would gaze upward until she saw where the stars were blinking out, assuming that's where the eagles were flying.

She couldn't tell for sure, but the eagles gave an impression of being larger than any others she had seen before.

She had already untangled herself from a briar bush that had prevented her from falling further. She had somehow dropped her satchel of water and sandwiches along the way. She had seen multiple sets of eyes that could have very well been hunting her. The forest seemed alive with frightful movement, even at night.

Several times she had lost her way and sat down cradling her head in her hands. But before long each time, the chatter of owls seemed to rise up ahead of her. It was scary but all she knew was to follow the creatures which had been her messengers til now.

At some point, when she felt she was just too exhausted to go on, she found herself stumbling up to a promontory outcropping. It was a clearing, with no mysterious trees hanging over her, but somewhat no protection if something were to scale the cliff or fly at her from above. But she figured the most likely predators to reach her here would be birds of prey, and she forced herself to trust any bird at this point.

This outcropping seemed to have a higher rim stacked with debris and it lowered to a sort of lowest middle place. Like a nest. She dropped to her knees and found whatever it was that had been stacked around her was not uncomfortable. She heard a rustling behind her and froze. When she heard it again she flopped over to face it. She could have sworn the wall was moving and almost closing in on her. But maybe that's what happens when you are hungry and higher than you ever have been before. After a few moments the mountain had stopped moving. And it seemed somehow it was cut off from the forest so she felt safe enough to maybe rest.

She let her hands fall on the debris that made this sort of nest around her. Something felt like metal, and a bit of leather, perhaps. She explored it more, straining to see in the night. She realized it was a broken sickle like she and her mother used to have. And then she noticed what she realized was pieces of a broken wooden cart. They used to have one like this as well. She began to think about how young she was when they had those things. She used to let the world come to her. She thought about how she would have never dared to leave the house at night even one year ago. She remembered her mother trying to use these contraptions and cursing her husband for living recklessly enough to die and leave her. Sarachel touched her blouse she had knitted, with the leather drawstring she had threaded back and forth to close the collar. She had been the first in her town to make clothes like this. She had scavenged until she found finer material and refined her methods to make something that she felt finally reflected her inner nobility. She was proud of it as she walked through the town. She had worn it because she thought if she were to die on this trip, she would like to die with dignity.

She heard a quiet whistle of a bird's melody slowly raining down on her. It seemed the whole forest seemed to quiet in response as the tune lulled her to sleep. It was a beautiful tune. She had heard it somewhere before. Her mind traveled back through memories as her body pressed against old items that used to be theirs. The melody took her back to her childhood. Someone had whistled it over her, she thought, when she was a sick baby. She remembered her mother had told her that they thought she was going to die, but that as she and her husband had prayed over her a thousand tiny birds had come to sit in a nearby tree. She said they didn't leave for days, and the chirping was almost deafening. After she recovered, the birds left. Maybe that was where she had heard this song.

In the morning she opened her eyes to the first rays of dawn. She crawled to the edge of the nest made of things she now fully recognized. But then gasped when she saw how far down she could have fallen if she had just rolled out of the nest. Then she turned to the wall as if to gain her bearings back. That is when she saw the cliff edge had closed in closer around her. It was bending toward her and rising above her into the mist and clouds. It seemed to be closing in from the sides as well. She yelped and scrambled to the edge of the nest. The cliff lowered closer and closer, until it was just above touching her. Then she noticed the texture, it was fibrous. Millions of little straight fibers aligned in parallel, creating surfaces overlapping each other. She reached out. They were soft.

Her heart almost exploded with fright, and at the same time awe. She pressed further and her hand slipped between the huge feathers. It was so soft inside the outer feathers. She now saw it was the huge chest of an eagle and the wings were lowering to wrap around the nest she was in.

She suddenly felt the most safe she had ever been. Totally isolated from the dangerous woods. And protected through the night by this great beast. She took a deep shuddering breath. And then pushed her hand deeper into the folds of the feathers. She pressed her head inside and then stepped all the way inside.

She found herself warmer and comforted more than any blanked or hug had every been able to give her before.

She closed her eyes and sobbed for an hour. She let out all of the pain from her short life into the gentle body of this strange beast.

And after that she stood up straight, took the last deep breath of the sweet soft smell of the feathers. And she walked out taller and more secure than she had ever been. The giant feathered chest lifted itself off the nest and back against the wall again, tucking its wings to its side.

Sarachel looked up into the bright white clouds. And she thought she could just barely make out, from inside the cloud, a beautiful, powerful head of an eagle turned sideways and one big black eye looking down at her.

She whispered, "Thank you." And after a few more moments looked to the path that would carry her further up the mountain.

After only about two hours more, she came to a lair, a beautiful courtyard with inlaid stone patterns radiating outward. And deep in the courtyard she could see a huge doorway. Opposite the doorway she could see a wide flat road that zig zagged down the mountain. It was neatly laid by bricks but she saw footprints in the dust beside the road. And she immediately knew whose lair this was.

She would have been struck by far more fear if she had not seen the size of the beast protecting her a few hours earlier. She saw no bird, but she did not need to see one in order to know they protected her.

She walked into the dark doorway, noticing the beauty which had carved into every detail of the arched doorway and flanking window openings. She walked slowly until her eyes adjusted. And there she saw a beautiful cave dwelling. There were openings at the top through which light and water came. The water gathered in rivers that ran throughout the cavern. There were more doorways and layers upon layers of levels and bridges connecting them. She saw the huge wolves moving and other animals in service to them, carving the architecture, and running their errands.

She suddenly stopped. In front of her was a wolf 6 times as tall as she was. It had a chest plate made of some animal hide, lined with jewels seated in bezels of gold. Its great face and ears were trained on her.

Its deep growl resonated in the large open cavern. All the wolves immediately looked up at them, from lower and higher levels. "State your reasons for being here, human." The wolf's voice was not practiced in this language but could execute on it.

"I was led here by the eagles."

The wolf slowly nodded, as other wolves were stalking toward them, their striking faces appearing as they stepped up to the platform she was on.

One of the wolves who had heard her said, "Take her to the council." A mountain lion slinked up next to her and gestured her toward the large leather-guilded wolf who stepped aside showing a new doorway. But then the bobcat got in front of her as if noticing something, sniffed at her and then lifted its front paws off the ground and put them on her shoulders. Then the large soft head turned and its jaws opened reached for her throat. Sarachel closed her eyes, now fully trusting her guides. The bobcat untied the knot of her cloak with its teeth and tongue so that it fell off of her, revealing her regal gown.

They led her through tall rooms with more skylights, and over bridges, supported by roots wood structures, leading to new doorways. Guards stepped aside when they saw her giant guides. And in about ten minutes she found herself in a room with ten or so of these giant wolves, mulling about, attired with variations of leather, fabric and gold.

Soon they all fell into a semi-circle and examined her. There was a wolf-ish communication between Sarachel's guide and the largest, most regal wolf, a female in the middle. This one stepped forward and took in a deep breath smelling her.

"You are cleaner than most." Her voice issued in an interesting accent. A beast forming mechanically a language not familiar in their mouths. She snarled briefly and lunged slightly.

Sarachel was startled, but only responded by slowly bowing to one knee.

"And braver than any I've seen."

Sarachel looked up with fearless eyes. She remembered how she spoke to the grocer. "The eagles led me here. I do not know why. But I trust them."

I believe we know why, "Said the female as she glanced at the others. They looked at each other and nodded. "The eagles seem to think the humans have potential to become more than they are. I believe they have sent you prove this to us."

"Would you have us spare them?" The female wolf barked.

Sarachel looked to the floor and thought. Then she looked up. "There are several among them that I love. And among them is my home." She closed her eyes and thought a moment longer. She could hear the ancient melody that had been whistled over her since her birth. And it led her. "But I have learned to trust the birds that have guided me more than I trust my own fears and hopes to guide me."

The female wolf spoke again, "We have seen incredible potential for much intelligence among the humans. But they so often use it to harm other people and animals."

Then one of the older wolves near the edge of the crescent spoke up, speaking slowly. "Young one, why would you trust the birds greater than your own species?"

"Because I have seen they know greater than I, what I can become."

"And it does not anger you," the old Wolf continued, "to be deceptively guided by them?"

Sarachel winced at the thought. "It does anger me sometimes. But I have found that anger is a sign that there is a new work to be done in me. I do not know if they are deceptive for their own purposes. I have only seen that what they do is for my own growth. I am far better for how they have led me."

Then another full-grown male who seemed to be the main female's mate, beside her, spoke up, "Whether the majority can be saved or not, is irrelevant, if we see that at least one of them can trust in something above themselves. Can value one above itself."

"We cannot destroy all of them." Spoke another.

"How do we divide the good from the bad?"

"We let them divide themselves. They will show us by their fruit. We can send the message home with her. And each of them will choose whether or not to listen and obey."

"And we will hunt the ones that will not."

"Quiet." The head female barked. "What is wrong little one?" She had noticed Sarachel with bowing her head, eyes closed in worry.

At this she Sarachel spoke. "Why would they listen to me. I am the least among them."

"Do they not sense how you are above them?"

"I do not sense that I am above them. They are far more powerful. They are men. They are stronger. They are adults."

"But you will have us," The female's mate stepped up beside the female.

"I'm sorry," Sarachel said. "but I only follow the feathered beasts right now.

"Oh, we follow them too, for they deliver the message of the creator from above. But we are the reapers. We are the harvesters of debts to deep. We are the cleansers of the dirt. We are the judges that keep this world balanced."

"I do not think," Sarachel spoke up again, "that fear will change their hearts. I think it will only change their actions."

"Indeed." The foremost male stepped back and said, "This one is wise."

"I am just a student of my own heart." Sarachel replied.

"Then we will give a season where our young friend will speak," The old one on the edge said slowly, "and let the winged voices visit them with messages of love. And those who turn and trust during this time will be saved."

"And then we will reap the rest."

They all nodded.

"Do you wish for us to carry you down to your people."

Sarachel looked to the door.

The main female saw her thought and added. "Young one, climb onto my head." She lowered her large head. "Speak into my ear as I take you to the door where you will find the ones who you hope for.

Sarachel grasped the fur and pulled herself up to her head, resting in the soft fur holding onto the firm edge of her ear. They began walking alone to the door. "Thank you for your bravery young one, and showing us what they humans can become."

"Dear beautiful woeful wolf," Sarachel spoke with certainty, "I hear in YOU that your anger wants to act outside the will of the creator. You heard what the eagles asked of you, and yet you were still ready to destroy us?"

The wolf thought for a moment, as her head bobbed and they passed through doorways and large caverns. "Perhaps this is what the creator sees in you. You have been my judge today. Perhaps you creatures have potential to rule over us all. If indeed the surrender of your hearts do not grow astray." The wolf passed through the final doorway, into the daylight. She set Sarachel to the ground as their eyes adjusted.

"I'm afraid, we will stray, great wolf. Our human hearts wander and doubt. We are swayed by power. Perhaps that will the the value your kind will bring to us. After we have been drawn by love, you will keep the balance of our hearts again by threat of correction."

"You indeed have potential to lead us all, small creature. I will see you when the time is right. We will send messengers if we need you." Sarachel nodded and bowed low. Then she turned to find 5 gigantic eagles, each as tall as the standing wolf, perched on the ledge of the courtyard where it met the cliff.

Joy flushed over Sarachel's face as she walked slowly, confidently toward the largest in the middle. the bird lowered its head and Sarachel touched its velvet covered beak. "Were you the one who protected me last night?" The bird slowly turned its head to gesture toward another one of the birds.

"Thank you," She said to all of them. "I just have a request. On our way home can you take me to where the words of the creator are spoken? That is who I truly want to be with."

The main bird looked up at the main female wolf, who smiled but shook her head. The birds chattered among each other.

The female wolf said to Sarachel, "They say you could breathe there, but your heart is aimed in the right, always upward. Now go, and spread the message. We will be waiting if you ever call on us for what we can bring. And the birds will be at your call as well, but always second to the will of the creator."

Sarachel nodded and bowed one last time. Then she climbed into the feathers of the lowered eagle head. And they launched off the cliff toward her home.

Raw Spoon, September 20, 2026