Arrow's Flight
Arrow was black: deep pitch, no light black. Not yet fully winged, nor fledged, mother fed its gaping beak.
High above the track, iron rails shook her home. Nest built by mother and father: nurtured their eggs, three, only Arrow survived. Peaked over its eerie high, hid by leaves, insects droned and buzzed, other birds sang, smoke rose from trains beneath. In the distance, on the horizon, darker smoke billowed.
In her growing strength knew no time, merely seasonal rhythms: cold sharp damp snow, migration, plenty, mating and young. Of circles broken by death.
Arrow's eyes clear, dark, shiny, all seeing, saw all around her. Predators savoured her for food, likewise she scanned her own nutrition, food to live.
Flew cautiously at first, left her nest, rose into blueness, chirped proud, never stopping from early morn to sun setting in the west. Extending her range. Each day further, higher, lower. Picked earth worms, ate small flies. Pecked wild forest fruit.
Confident, each day wandered, spied tracks, through forests surrounding iron tracks, over massive fields. Flew in circles with one eye cast over the horizon's smoke, scanned earth for food with the other.
Imprinted on her mind, pathways, routes, marked by sun rising to setting and the habitats of animals too large to devour - fox, wolf, badger and deer - each their own patterns.
Summer, autumn, winter: snow. Fear, cold, smoke, dense black, acrid choked on the horizon. Trains clanged over frost, steam hissed and spat, snow fell from trees with dull thuds. Three, four trains, more often, in a day. Uncomprehending Arrow slowly circled above their wooden carriages, heard cries, moans, knew no desolation and pain, only hunger. Waited patiently for prey to break cover, grow careless, to sustain her for another day or two.
Spring came, Arrow larger, fuller, grown, sought a mate, but stopped. Instinctively knew not now. Fought off males, sought her own company, flew on warm breezes, glided effortlessly.
Maria, Ruth, Paul and James their school long closed, boarded, quiet, where joy rang around their games: emptiness and sorrow. Neighbours shunned them, parents, grandparents, aunts, cousins, grew ragged and hungry. Work ceased, begged, friends gave food secretly: meagre rations from war time allowance.
Summer, once welcomed with delight, cursed, drink scarce, and fruit, melons, quenching thirst, no longer sold to them, though they knew the fields where they grew. Men in grey uniforms: steel helmets, hard hearts, moved them on in their town,
shouted abuse. Stars, bright colour of sun's radiance, identified them, limited where they could go, what they could do.
Arrow flew closer to the town, circled small houses, fenced gardens. Palls of dust rose from cobbled roads and tracks as army vehicles trundled slowly, methodically, laden with men and guns. Flags fixed to their trucks, stiffly stretched out in black, red and white.
Arrow began to rest, look around her from a small oak tree in a garden at the edge of town. Waited till dusk, flew back to her nest, slept alone.
Ruth, Maria, James and Paul. Two brothers, two sisters, waited each night's sleep to hide their hunger. Fitful, moaned and sighed. Less food each month, fewer relatives to rely upon and protect them, more soldiers in their town stamping shiny boots. Their station, packed with trains, rumbled on towards the east, weekly increasing in numbers. Cargo they dared not talk about. Feared each day's events.
Arrow, amid leaves, moved quickly her head, this way and that, ruffled her feathers, spread her wings, sang, watched. Aware of four young children watching her. Pride in being herself, joy in singing, of seeing children, close and smiling in wonderment and pointing at her. Sitting on sun baked earth and listless grass, talking quietly squinting eyes in Arrow's direction.
A hand reaches forward, some grass, a little seed in Ruth's outstretched palm, a curious smile, wanting to communicate with their new neighbour. Ruth's eyes, aglow, moves, slowly, towards Arrow. She flutters, looks about, sees nobody else, wings forward, pecks at the seed, flies back. Feels. A taming, a desire, a movement inside her pulsating breast, triumphantly chirps. Children smile and then giggle and laugh: dirty clothes and shoeless, forgot hunger sharing with Arrow.
Weeks go by. Routine, after flying the forest, over the town's rooftops, trains filling with people, baby wails and mother's tears, settles, each day, its oak perch.
James and Paul, Ruth and Maria, each day too. Food and joy, Arrow flies to Ruth, perches on her hand, pecks seeds, Maria strokes Arrow's head with her fingers, touches gently her feathers. Flies to Paul, settles on James' outstretched arm. Knows each one.
Children becoming more alone, cry more often at night. Soldiers stop them often, neighbours jeer and spit. Friends, more cautious, at night give them food, getting scarcer.
Dark clouds of summer storm, rain, wind and fear. Arrow's blood courses cold, shelters more, deeper, in her nest. Her neighbours long moved off as trains shook their homes. Foreboding, not a fear of the forest where all kill to live and live to kill as necessity to continue nature's circle. Arrow senses something more.
Rain pounds her body, her wings thrust her forwards, progresses slowly her mission. Lightening tears the sky apart. Rain cuts through forest, over the land, slashing sheets pound on trains whose lamps illuminate the wet sheen of rail steel.
Past sheltering animals she flew, over swollen streams, alone, brave, cold.
Bundled rags, bound together, shouting soldiers, long coats, rain dripping from helmets, guns covered as protection from the force of nature's anger.
Pushed, herded, moved into a throng, along the wide rutted and deep pooled tracks between fenced off houses, searching for James and Ruth, Maria and Paul. Skin wet, feet sodden and cut frozen cold, rain, non-stop, in their town for the very last time.
Arrow swoops, eyes to the left, eyes to the right, eyes in front and scanning around. Heart leaps in adrenaline, needs to find, needs to see, needs to escape, needs to save. No mate, alone, her purpose defined by feeling.
Maria, Ruth, Paul and James together, memories fading fast of summer and Arrow.
'Halt!' a soldier barks. They stop. Thousands of people. Soldiers shouting, a truck, deep grey, mud splattered, lies on its side.
Arrow flies dangerously close, sees the children, lets out a loud 'caw, caw', and circles where they are, being pushed this way and that, soldiers moving, cursing, pushing back the human column, terrified in its expected fate.
Four children see Arrow, drop their sodden heavy bundles of rags and slip away to where she circles between a row of houses. No one notices, their heads bowed, hats pulled over faces, soldiers busy with work and swearing, searching for ropes, ignoring the crowd.
Arrow banks, changes direction, flaps her wings, the children follow. Slowly at first not to disturb soldiers' shooting at sudden movements, rifles ready to crack death: crouched low. Stealthily break through the town, past the shuttered houses, the barns, pig pens, hay piled high, farm implements, a well.
Arrow finds confidence, children quicker, raise wet bodies higher, dare to look where they are, eyes fixed rigidly to the bird in front. Moving left, moving right,
paths remembered followed now. Above ground in the silence of her flight, aloft to hacking, coughing, gasping children.
An hour, two, three, rain, swampy paths, deep in forest, sounds of voices, of engines, of tears, far behind. Clouds clear, the day ends and the sky darkens. They sleep, huddled together. Arrow perches, sentinel on guard, sleeps fitfully till daybreak.
Warm sunrise steams the dampness from their clothes, from vegetation and tall trees. Arrow too feels warmth. Children, yesterday miserable and weary, waken and move with spring in their step, and silently together hear the forest come to life.
Hunger fed by wild fruit, berries Arrow landed on and pecked, brought to eager hands, devoured rich juice and sugar sweetness. Strengthened. Walked and walked. Everything a chatter, a song, the gentle whispering of trees. Sun higher and higher. Walked, foot sore. Rest, follow Arrow. Seemingly tireless she chivvies them on: over roots, streams, up hills, brushed past bushes that pricked skin, stumbled down rough tracks, broke cover as expansive fields crossed. Stopped only for food: berries, wild apples.
Sun down, clear skies, cold nights, slept in peace, silently. Arrow, pride inside her, rests too. Woodland animals circle the four, they too now stand guard, and fade, task completed, as sun rises into third, fourth and fifth day.
Dust rises high above the trees, Arrow stops, children huddle together, taste fear. She flies, till a black dot, vanishes into expanse. Looking up eyes hurt as sun blinds childrens' unprotected eyes: they wait in silence.
Hours pass, sun past its zenith gradually sinks into the west. Dust billows still, growing broader in its vertical column. Ruth, Maria, James and Paul break silence, talk quietly together, await their black friend.
Squawking, chirping, cawing, not one, but two birds, circle. Arrow, not alone, glides effortless down, rests, her companion waits, a distance away, high in branches. Sun, now almost hidden by trees, dips, the sky closes over in darkness.
The children sense some strange excitement. Arrow flies to her companion, larger, snuggle together, sleeps the night. Once more the forest creatures form their protective circle of warmth, fur and claw, wide eyes and sharp pricked ears.
The longest night. Children mumble, though sleeping, their minds, wonder, dream aloud of what these changes signify: the dust, Arrow's time away, her partner. Woodland creatures, previously a discreet distance away, closer tonight, they could hear them breath, feel the warmth of their bodies, see their silhouettes as the moon cast its brightness over the forest floor. Awaited eagerly day break.
Sun rise, redness glows, larger than previously. By a stream they washed, drank cool cleanness, a small fish swims past. Arrow and partner took off, one banked right, one banked left. Ascended so swiftly the children couldn't distinguish them.
They waited, but not immobile, walked slowly about, scanned all directions, took advantage of their clearing, climbed a tree, sought better views.
Noise now attached itself to the dust, a distant rumble, deep, broken apart by other sounds - higher pitched, buzzing. Children agog, half fear, half anticipation: what army was this? Where did they come from, where were they going, how large could it be? The noise getting sharper, more droning, clearly louder.
Arrow and her partner circled from out of nowhere and flew in front of us - we followed. Now together, one leading, one droppping back, alternatively diving and climbing, forever changing position, but always forward: towards the plume rising mixed colours of pearl haze, green and blue.
One hour, two, not stopping. Stumbling in excitement, eager to reach our destination. Fear vanished, watching our two flying companions wheel, dive and bank across the sky, coming together in unison with mad ecstatic screeching. Then a halt, suddenly.
Voices close: loud, shouting, voices we didn't know, in a language we didn't recognise. A flag we'd never seen in our town. Arrow with her partner swished
across our heads, beautiful wings skimming our faces, her partner too flew past landed on all our shoulders, took off. In a moment they were both gone: specks on the horizon.
We ran and ran and ran. Over grass, falling over clumps of earth, ever towards the sound of voices and machines. We started to make noises, to scream, shout, laugh, talk, all at once so no one could have understood us.
At first no one did. No one believed our story of Arrow. Friendly soldiers bathed us, gave us new clothes, let us ride their jeeps, fed us, gave us coffee. They sent us safely a long way from our town, across the ocean where we grew up and began to forget. Till my own child wanted to hear my story.
And you've just read it.
