The Rescue. Kathryn Lasky

No one had called him ‘dearest’ like that since he had been snatched.

      Soren cocked his head and tried to look at his parents, but the mist was continually shifting, sliding and recomposing itself into their shapes. They were recognisable but yet it was not images he was seeing. It was more like a foggy shadow. Still, he knew without a doubt it was them. But why, why after all this time were they here, seeking him out?

       Unfinished business? Is that what it is?

      We think so. It was the voice of his father in his head.

       You don’t know?

       Not exactly, dear. We’re never sure. We know something isn’t right. We have feelings, but no real answers to these feelings.

       Are you trying to warn me of something?

       Yes, yes. But the hard part is we don’t know what it is we should warn you about.

      Soren wondered if they knew about Kludd. He wanted to tell them how Kludd had pushed him from the nest, but he couldn’t. Something stopped in his brain. Words began to tumble out of his mouth, and now he could actually hear those words. He was telling them about Kludd, but his mum and da were unmoved. They were not hearing anything of what he was saying. And there was a blankness now in his head. This was all very weird. When he could hear his own voice, the words in the normal way, his parents could not. Their only way of speaking to one another was this silent language that seemed to exist only in their heads. And yet Soren could not form the ideas in his head to tell them about Kludd, and they could not tell him about the danger.

      Metal! Beware Metal Beak! The words exploded in Soren’s head. It was the voice of his father but it seemed to have taken all his energy to do this. His father was dissolving before his eyes. His mother as well. The mists that had been their shapes were swirling, seeping away. Soren reached out with his talons to hold them. “Don’t go! Don’t go. Don’t leave me! Come back.”

      “What’s you yelling about, lad? Wake us all up, will you?” Soren was suddenly on the ground and Poot was standing in front of him, blinking. How had he got on the ground? He had been in that tree a second ago but he had no memory of flying down from it. And there was no mist now. None at all.

      “I’m sorry, Poot. I flew up into that tree there. I thought I saw something.” Soren nodded.

      “No, you didn’t,” Poot said. “I woke a few minutes ago. You were standing right here on the mound. Perfectly alert – being a good lookout. Believe me, I would have had your tail feathers if you hadn’t been.”

      “I was right here?” Soren was incredulous.

      “Course you were, young’un,” Poot said and looked at him curiously as if he’d gone yoicks. “Right here you were. I would have noticed you up in the tree, believe me.”

      Was it just a dream? Soren thought. But it felt so real. I heard Mum’s and Da’s voices in my head. It was real.

      “Time we be takin’ off.” Poot looked at the sky that was turning a dusky purple. Pink clouds sliding against it. “Wind’s going our way,” Poot remarked, after studying the clouds for a minute. “We’ll catch a westerly and come in on a nice reach.” A reach was easy flying with the wind being not on the beak or on the tail feathers directly, but a little aft of the wing, giving a nice steady boost to their flight. The others were beginning to stir from their daytime slumbers.