The Crow Talker. Jacob Grey

chewing furiously and swallowing. Then he took a handful of something green and pushed it in as well. The flavours mingled wonderfully. Some fell out on to his plate, so he crammed it back in. He swallowed thickly again and licked the rich sauce off his fingers and his wrist.

      It was quiet at the table, he realised, and when he looked up he saw all three members of the Strickham family staring at him, open-mouthed. They were holding knives and forks. Caw blushed to the roots of his hair.

      “He’s not used to company,” said Lydia quickly.

      “Sorry,” said Caw. “This is delicious.” He picked up the knife and fork, but they felt all wrong in his hands. Mrs Strickham watched him curiously, slowly slicing her food and placing a small morsel in her mouth.

      The dinner proceeded in silence. Caw barely looked up, and though he tried to pace himself, he soon finished what was on his plate. Lydia gave him more without asking.

      “You seem hungry, Caw,” said Mr Strickham. “When was the last time you ate?”

      Caw thought back to the apples and chocolate Lydia had given him. “Earlier today,” he said.

      “You know, I might be able to find you some … support,” said Mr Strickham, laying down his knife and fork.

      Caw frowned.

      “The city can look after children who haven’t—”

      “I’m sixteen,” said Caw, a little too loudly.

      “There’s no need to be aggressive,” said Mr Strickham. “I’m only trying to help you.”

      “Leave him alone, Dad,” said Lydia.

      Mr Strickham shot her a glare. “Don’t raise your voice at me, young lady. Not after your disobedience last night.”

      “Without Caw and his crows, we’d be dead,” said Lydia. “I just think we should respect his privacy.”

      Mr Strickham seemed about to say something, then laid down his knife and fork. “You’re right, Lydia.” He smiled at Caw. “I’m sorry.”

      “Did you say crows, dear?” Mrs Strickham asked.

      “Yes,” Lydia answered. “Caw has these three tame crows that hang around him. Two of them attacked the prisoner in the alley last night.”

      “How very strange,” Mrs Strickham said. Her brow furrowed and she cleared her throat. “I’m going to the bathroom. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood up and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a crisp napkin, then left the room.

      Caw noticed a movement at the window – a fluttering of wings. It was Screech, perched outside. His heart sank. That was the last thing he needed – just when he seemed to have won them over. Caw gave a jerk of his hand, to say “Go away!”