Marilene was lost. Mama had sent her to gather 'enough' kindling and, with the help of some reeds and grass, now had a bundle of twigs bigger than her on her head. That was the good bit. She was being a good daughter for Mama.
The bad part was that she had been so determined to get the mostest sticks in the world that she lost track of the way home. And now the woods were getting spooky.
The trees were talking. They were saying things like, "Go back now!" or "Beware... Be... ware..." or laughter and giggles from random directions. There was only one thing that Marilene could do. She fell into a sitting position and set up a wail. It had always worked before.
It wasn't working so great now.
A big black bird, almost bigger than her, hopped down on the ground before her and looked at her with each of its beady eyes. "Baby girl," it said in two different voices. "Snack?"
Marilene stopped bawling out of pure shock for a handful of seconds. Birds could talk! Since she remembered her manners, she brought out the little parcel of journey snacks that Mama always put in her pocket. There was jerky and nuts and, if she was good, dried fruits.
"Er yuk, raisins," she sighed. She had not been tremendously good, this week. Or she had gone through the dried apples and citrons very quickly. All that was left was raisins.
The big bird loved them, and let her pet a glossy wing as it helped itself to a feast. Two of its friends hopped down from the trees. One said, "Intruder... Beware..."
"It was you," said Marilene. "Are you magic?"
All the birds laughed.
Then, in the distance past the trees and the bushes, a rhythmic snapping and crackling of twigs and forest litter. Those were not Mama's footsteps. They were bigger. Heavier.
The birds started chanting, "Norkas! Norkas! Norkas!"
Marilene curled herself up tight and cried for Mama.
"Ah," said a deep voice. Much like many of the voices of the birds. "A lost child. Baby girl."
Marilene risked a peek. They were dressed all over in leaves and feathers, they were big. Really, really big. Blue-ish fur all over, but short like a kitten's. And wild, wild hair like a gorse bush. There were big black birds perched all over them, their staff, and the antlers they had strapped to their cow-like head.
They were like nothing Marilene had ever seen before.
"Don't know the way home?" they rumbled like thunder.
Marilene shook her head.
"Come on then," The big mountain cow-person scooped her up like a scared chick, sticks and all, and started striding between the trees. All the way to the edge of the forest, and in sight of the house. Where Mama's fresh bread was already done.
"You fed my birds," they said as they put her down. "They'll remember you." They pointed to the house and added to a bird, "Baby girl home."
Marilene picked up her bundle and turned to thank the cow-mountain, but they and their birds were gone.
Mama was glad to see her, and the bread was warm and good. And nothing more came of it until the next day, when Marilene had to feed the chickens.
"Say 'thank you'," she demanded. "You got to say 'thank you'."
"Marilene, my darling," sighed Mama, hanging up the washing. "Birds don't talk."
"The big ones do," protested Marilene.
A big black bird perched on the prop stick, looking at her with each beady eye.
Marilene held up a handful of chicken feed. "You say 'thank you'?"
The bird flew down and took some seed. "Thank you," it rumbled in the cow-mountain's voice.
Mama had to lie down.
[Image by Meg Jerrard on Unsplash]
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