right to fly in the sun? Never had he imagined it would be like this—a perfect world created for them by Humans.
“And the bands?” said Frieda. “What is their significance?”
“After I was banded I wondered about that a great deal,” said Arcadia, “as many of us have, I’m sure. But these bands aren’t magical objects in themselves. They don’t single out good bats from bad. We share no common language with the Humans, so they are a way of linking us. They are a sign of friendship, a symbol of the Promise. They tell us that Humans have a part to play in the coming of the day. Nocturna made the Promise; the Humans have delivered it!”
Across the treetops Shade met his mother’s eyes and smiled.
“Let’s go find your father,” she called to him. His heart pounded. Somewhere in this vast forest was his father, he could feel it.
“We’ve come looking for someone,” Ariel said to Arcadia. “A banded Silverwing named Cassiel.”
Arcadia settled on a branch and looked thoughtful. “Cassiel. So many have come, let me try to …” She raised her voice and called out across the treetops: “Is there a Cassiel Silverwing among us? Send out the word!”
Shade’s fur lifted in excitement as he heard his father’s name racing out through the forest like a ripple through water. He couldn’t keep still; he had to be aloft. Up to the very rooftop he flew, listening.
“Cassiel! Cassiel Silverwing! Is he here? Cassiel … Cassiel … Cassiel …” until the voices became softer and softer, fading away into silence. Shade felt the blood booming in his ears. He sought out his mother, her face so still, her ears pricked hopefully, waiting for the return call.
It didn’t come.
After a few agonizing moments, Arcadia said gently, “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” Ariel said, her ears slowly folding back against her head.
Shade heard sympathetic voices around him, telling him and his mother they were sorry, so sorry, but they were just noise to him. He looked at Arcadia.
“No, he’s got to be here,” he insisted, and his own voice sounded deafening to him. “He came here late last spring. He knew about this place! He must have come here—before anyone else, even. He’s here!”
“When my group arrived, we were the first,” said Arcadia firmly. “There were no other bats in the forest, and I don’t remember a banded Silverwing by that name. I’m sorry to have to tell you unhappy news. But you must try to be grateful for the Paradise you have found here.”
Shade looked at her angrily and flew off, his eyes blinded with tears. He hurtled himself deep into the branches, roosted, and tried to think clearly. He would not cry, would not. He’d scour the forest himself to make sure. That stupid bearded bat didn’t know everything. She probably wasn’t even an elder, just some self-important old crone….
When his mother came to roost beside him, he couldn’t turn to look at her. If he saw her eyes reflecting back his own sorrow, he knew he would sob.
“He’s alive,” Shade said through gritted teeth. “Zephyr said so.”
“Maybe Zephyr was wrong. We can’t spend our lives looking for him.”
“Why not?”
“You’re so restless, so like him,” she said. “Every journey has to end somewhere, Shade.”
“You’re giving up?” he asked, amazed.
“Giving up.” She sighed. “Is that what it is? Plenty of us have lost mates. It’s one of those cruel things that’s unavoidable.”
He hated how sensible she sounded. How could she think so sensibly?
“I’m not so unlucky,” she said. “I’ve got you. And I’m not too old to have more newborns.”
Shade stared at her, shocked. “You can’t.” She laughed gently, but Shade felt his face burn beneath his fur, as if he were a child again and had just said something ridiculous.
“How do you know your father’s not done the same, somewhere else?”
“He wouldn’t.”
His mother said nothing. She’s right, he thought
“And the bands?” said Frieda. “What is their significance?”
“After I was banded I wondered about that a great deal,” said Arcadia, “as many of us have, I’m sure. But these bands aren’t magical objects in themselves. They don’t single out good bats from bad. We share no common language with the Humans, so they are a way of linking us. They are a sign of friendship, a symbol of the Promise. They tell us that Humans have a part to play in the coming of the day. Nocturna made the Promise; the Humans have delivered it!”
Across the treetops Shade met his mother’s eyes and smiled.
“Let’s go find your father,” she called to him. His heart pounded. Somewhere in this vast forest was his father, he could feel it.
“We’ve come looking for someone,” Ariel said to Arcadia. “A banded Silverwing named Cassiel.”
Arcadia settled on a branch and looked thoughtful. “Cassiel. So many have come, let me try to …” She raised her voice and called out across the treetops: “Is there a Cassiel Silverwing among us? Send out the word!”
Shade’s fur lifted in excitement as he heard his father’s name racing out through the forest like a ripple through water. He couldn’t keep still; he had to be aloft. Up to the very rooftop he flew, listening.
“Cassiel! Cassiel Silverwing! Is he here? Cassiel … Cassiel … Cassiel …” until the voices became softer and softer, fading away into silence. Shade felt the blood booming in his ears. He sought out his mother, her face so still, her ears pricked hopefully, waiting for the return call.
It didn’t come.
After a few agonizing moments, Arcadia said gently, “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” Ariel said, her ears slowly folding back against her head.
Shade heard sympathetic voices around him, telling him and his mother they were sorry, so sorry, but they were just noise to him. He looked at Arcadia.
“No, he’s got to be here,” he insisted, and his own voice sounded deafening to him. “He came here late last spring. He knew about this place! He must have come here—before anyone else, even. He’s here!”
“When my group arrived, we were the first,” said Arcadia firmly. “There were no other bats in the forest, and I don’t remember a banded Silverwing by that name. I’m sorry to have to tell you unhappy news. But you must try to be grateful for the Paradise you have found here.”
Shade looked at her angrily and flew off, his eyes blinded with tears. He hurtled himself deep into the branches, roosted, and tried to think clearly. He would not cry, would not. He’d scour the forest himself to make sure. That stupid bearded bat didn’t know everything. She probably wasn’t even an elder, just some self-important old crone….
When his mother came to roost beside him, he couldn’t turn to look at her. If he saw her eyes reflecting back his own sorrow, he knew he would sob.
“He’s alive,” Shade said through gritted teeth. “Zephyr said so.”
“Maybe Zephyr was wrong. We can’t spend our lives looking for him.”
“Why not?”
“You’re so restless, so like him,” she said. “Every journey has to end somewhere, Shade.”
“You’re giving up?” he asked, amazed.
“Giving up.” She sighed. “Is that what it is? Plenty of us have lost mates. It’s one of those cruel things that’s unavoidable.”
He hated how sensible she sounded. How could she think so sensibly?
“I’m not so unlucky,” she said. “I’ve got you. And I’m not too old to have more newborns.”
Shade stared at her, shocked. “You can’t.” She laughed gently, but Shade felt his face burn beneath his fur, as if he were a child again and had just said something ridiculous.
“How do you know your father’s not done the same, somewhere else?”
“He wouldn’t.”
His mother said nothing. She’s right, he thought
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