The Clan of Outcasts [Season 3]

Part 27: "Queen of Crows"

Many Years Ago....

Mal surveyed the remains of the garden with a frown. The birds had taken it all--big, black crows who seemed to only desire the grubs and insects on her family's crops... who ripped and tore indeterminately in their quest to fill their bellies. Every spring, her mother said a prayer to Juros over the seeds, every spring her father would patiently water the tender shoots and scrape away the weeds so the seedlings wouldn't choke before they had a chance to flourish...

And every year, just before harvest, the crows came and devoured almost everything.

Mal shook her pale fist at the sky, wishing she could understand why her mother kept insisting on seeking out favor from a deity that apparently couldn't care less about any of them.

"Don't you see what it's done to us?" she seethed under her breath--lest anyone catch her raging at the sky. "Don't you care what these buzzards are doing?"

The only answer was the mocking croak of the distant birds--they would be back, just as soon as the garden held anything of value. A breeze curled around her shoulders, racing down her spine and making her shiver--but the skies remained silent and unmoving.

A flutter behind her prompted Mal to turn--but the only thing she saw was a grey dove sitting on a branch nearby. It cooed, tilting its head back and forth, as if to watch her. As Mal watched, a brown streak rustled by her, and a thrush landed on the branch beside the dove, trilling it's high-pitched cry. Mal held very still, as her mother taught her to do whenever nature's creatures approached. The thrush preened and ruffled its feathers right in front of her. When it twisted its head back and forth, Mal could almost sense that it might be looking right at her.

On a whim, Mal held out her hand. She had nothing to offer the bird, but at least she knew that these particular visitors were not responsible for the agricultural carnage.

The thrush's head tilted to the side, and its eye fixed directly on Mal. She held perfectly still, holding the bird's gaze... until, with a flurry of wings, it left the branch and landed on her hand. She felt its weight, the soft down of its underbelly. Mal admired the dappled brown of its coloring, the dainty narrowness of its features.

Something in the way that it settled, resting in her hand, Mal felt a connection between her psyche, and that of the bird. Mal sensed the approach of something else, and she held out her other hand. Almost immediately, a blue jay landed on her wrist, warbling happily.

Mal couldn't help herself. The bird's cheer seeped into her, overtaking her all at once. She smiled, then burst out laughing. More birds came to land on the branches, filling the air with their song. Mal sensed that the birds wanted to fly away soon, but they waited for her to release them. How did she know what wild animals were thinking?

Not just animals, Mal thought to herself. Birds.

She let the thrush fly away, and she focused on the jay.

We have an understanding, you and I, she thought, as if she could link to its mind.

The jay tilted and ducked its head, chirping softly in some kind of affirmative answer.

Do birds have a universal language to communicate with one another, like humans do? she asked the jay in her hands. If I give you a message, will you carry it to all the other birds?

The grand blue jay chirruped, only too excited to bear her message far and wide.

Tell them, Mal thought, feeling the connection grow every minute, to leave our crops alone. The crows have been tearing apart our vegetables to get at the grubs, and this kills the plants, leaving us with no food. Tell them to leave my family's land and let our crops grow. There is plenty of food to be had elsewhere.