The Crow Talker. Jacob Grey

      Caw couldn’t hold her stare. “I wasn’t.”

      “Liar,” she said, but with a smile. “I thought you were a burglar at first, but then I thought, no one’s stupid enough to rob the Warden of Blackstone Prison. Anyway, I forgive you. I’m Lydia, by the way.” She held out her hand.

      Caw looked at it.

      She leant forwards and took his hand, placing it in hers, then shook it up and down. “And you are?”

      “I’m … Caw,” said Caw.

      Lydia grinned. “What sort of a name is that?”

      Caw shrugged. “It’s what I’m called.”

      “If you say so.” Lydia looked around the nest. “So did you build this place?”

      Caw nodded. He couldn’t help a flush of pride.

      With some help! said Screech.

      Lydia looked up, narrowing her eyes at the crows.

      “With some help,” Caw added.

      “Are you talking to the birds?”

      Crows, please, said Glum.

      “Well …” said Caw. He almost lied, then thought better of it. “Yes. And they’re crows.”

      “OK, that’s seriously weird,” said Lydia.

      Glum hissed at her.

      “Sorry,” she said nervously.

      “Don’t worry,” said Caw. “He’s always in a bad mood.”

      Take that back! said Glum.

      Lydia cocked her head. “I just wanted to come and thank you,” she said. “You ran away pretty quickly last night.”

      Caw shrugged. “I just … happened to be there. It’s no big deal.”

      “And your crows,” said Lydia. “I suppose I should thank them too. They were very brave.” She turned to them. “Sorry – you were very brave.”

      Glum ruffled his feathers. Flattery will get you nowhere, my girl, he said.

      “He says it was nothing,” said Caw. Suddenly his stomach let out a rumble. He hadn’t eaten a thing since the chips from the takeaway two days ago.

      Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Are you hungry?” she asked, taking off her backpack.

      “A little,” Caw admitted.

      She fished inside and took out a chocolate bar in a blue wrapper. “Here you go,” she said, offering it to him across the nest.

      Caw took it from her like it was a precious thing, and peeled the wrapper away carefully. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten chocolate.

      Careful, said Glum. It might be poisoned.

      Caw rolled his eyes, then took a huge bite. His teeth sank through the thick chocolate, and it melted over his tongue. The bar was gone in seconds, sweetness coating the inside of his mouth.

      “A little hungry?” said Lydia, still grinning. “Here.” She handed him an apple. Caw tried to eat it more slowly, in methodical bites. The fruit’s flesh exploded juice into his mouth, and it dribbled over his chin.

      Save a bit for us! said Screech.

      Caw tossed the core to the two crows, who attacked it with their beaks. He didn’t worry about saving any for Milky. The white crow rarely ate.

      “The scrawny one looks hurt,” said Lydia, pointing to Screech’s crooked leg.

      Who’s she calling scrawny? said Screech.

      “Come here, little crow,” said Lydia soothingly. “Let me take a look.”

      She’d better not be talking to me, said Screech, lifting his beak haughtily. I’m not little.

      Glum gave a throaty laugh.

      “He’s just a bit nervous,” said Caw.

      Lydia leant towards Screech. “I could make a splint,” she said. “You’ve got plenty of junk here I could use. And I’m good with animals.”

      Screech hopped away from her.

      “Let her try,” said Caw. “She might be able to help.”

      “I’ve got another apple,” said Lydia, taking it out of her bag and handing it to him. “Here.”

      Caw ate more slowly this time, watching as Lydia fashioned a splint out of twigs and string. Screech extended his leg gingerly, and she fastened the splint into place. Milky, Caw noticed, had dropped into the nest through the small opening in the tarp at the far end. Caw didn’t think Lydia even knew he was there. But the blind crow seemed to be watching them with his sightless eyes.

      “Done!” she said, with a clap of her hands. “It’s not broken, but he should keep it rested.”

      Screech peered down at the splint. It’s not a half-bad job! he said.

      “He says ‘thank you’,” said Caw. He almost smiled again, but caught himself. What was he doing, letting his guard down, welcoming this girl into his most secret place? What if she told her family about it? What if she told everyone? He cleared his throat.

      “Look, thank you for the food, but …”

      “Are those books?” she said, scrambling across the nest. In the corner, beneath Caw’s tattered sweater, was his latest stack.

      “Yes,” said Caw. “But—”

      Lydia took one. “They’re picture books!” she said, grinning.

      Caw really wanted her to go now, but he couldn’t think of the right words.

      “Why are you reading picture books?” she said. “They’re for little kids.”

      Caw felt his blush deepen.

      Lydia’s look turned to utter dismay. “Wait – I’m sorry. Did you ever learn to read?”

      Caw lowered his gaze and managed a tiny shake of his head.

      “Hey, these are library books,” said Lydia. “Did you … steal them?”

      “No!” said Caw, glancing up angrily. “I borrowed them.”

      “You have a library card?” said Lydia, her eyebrow arching.

      “Not exactly,” said Caw. “A woman – a librarian – leaves them outside for me.”

      Lydia put the book down. “I could teach you to read,” she said.

      Caw didn’t know what to say. Why was she being so nice to him?

      “I mean, if you want me to,” she added awkwardly. “Maybe we could go to the library together – pick something to help you learn.”

      Caw was about to reply when Milky let out a thin cry. Everyone looked at the white crow.

      “Whoa, I didn’t see him there,” said Lydia, shifting uncomfortably. “Why are his feathers like that?”

      “They always have been,” said Caw, his eyes fixed on Milky. “Listen, thanks for the offer with the library, but—”

      Milky squawked again.

      “Sounds like he wants you to come with me,” Lydia said with a grin. She pushed out her bottom lip. “But then, I don’t speak bird.”

      Glum hissed.

      “That one’s tetchy, isn’t he?” said Lydia.

      Caw was watching Milky. Why was the white crow making such a fuss?

      Milky