The Mountains Sang Their Silent Melody

XI

Frances struggled to sleep that night. It seemed like every time they began to drift off, the newborn started wailing again to be fed. Frances glanced at Ophelia, who returned their irritated look. In frustration, Ophelia clapped her hands over her ears.

"I am never having children," Frances vowed to no one in particular.

As the night wore on, though, Frances's tiredness overcame them. They slept soundly for several hours, only to be awoken again. This time, it was not the crying baby that woke them.

Frances glanced around the cavern. The embers of the fire had died down, and Ophelia, Opus, and the baby were fast asleep. Four-in-the-morning darkness crept into the cavern through the entrance.

"Pst," a voice said. There was the distinct sound of flapping wings.

"It's you!" Frances said in a loud whisper as the eagle landed in front of them.

"I have something to show you," the eagle said. "You must follow me."

Frances glanced around, wondering if they should tell Opus or Ophelia. In the end, they decided against waking them. Nobody had slept very well that night.

Frances stumbled after the eagle in the darkness. They felt like they were crashing so loudly through the underbrush that they would wake up all forms of life in the area. But they did not encounter any animals other than the eagle – their way was desolate.

The eagle lead Frances through a valley and into a different cavern. The darkness inside this new cavern was so deep that Frances had to feel about to find their way. The walls of the cavern were damp and cold, and the ground sloped steeply upwards. Soon Frances found themself involving their hands to aid their body in clambering over the rocks. Thankfully, it was only a steep incline, not a sheer face. Frances was in danger of sliding downwards, but not falling.

"Almost there," the eagle said.

They emerged into a vale, deep within the heart of the mountains. When Frances crawled out of the cavern, a cloud of lightning bugs resting in the nearby underbrush scattered. Frances raised their head to take in the full scope of the vale. And their mouth fell open.

Upon the pine trees lining the slopes, Frances made out hundreds, if not thousands, of eagles. A pathway lead a few meters down from the cavern's exit to flat ground, which Frances realised was actually a massive nest. Within the nest was a creature that Frances had never believed to be real: a thunderbird.

Frances could see easily in the vale because of the rays of light radiating from around the thunderbird's head. She was as tall and proud, larger than any pine tree, with a wingspan that could have easily thrown Frances's valley town into shadows. In her talons, she held her prey. She tilted over with her gigantic frame and tore at the flesh of the corpse of a whale using her powerful beak. Her movements caused the shadows in the vale to dance. When she had eaten her fill, she tossed the remains of the whale aside as if it weighed nothing. Several eagles flitted down to the whale to claim a piece of meat.

The thunderbird blinked her eyes and a bolt of lightning singed the ground twenty meters from Frances. Frances flinched at the bright light and their bones rattled at the sound that followed. They peeked their eyes open to look at the singed earth where the thunderbolt had struck. Before their eyes, the ash began to writhe. It transformed into several snakes, which slithered away into the underbrush.

"Frances Solomon!" the thunderbird boomed. The eagles that had come down to claim food were quick to return to their perches in the trees. A great eye of the thunderbird leered at Frances.