WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
and his feathers were spangled with spray. It 
was a dark place, for the thorn-trees met 
overhead. Far away a flock of curlew called, 
and then life in the woods, from Grenogue to 
the river bank, began to move quietly. A rustle 
in the bushes meant that the rabbits were 
driving new shafts into the hillside, a distant 
cry in the wood told of the foxes' hunting, and 
only the wind knew how many of the Feather 
Folk were travelling just under cloud-level that 
night. Karruck listened, then rose tip-toe, and 
cried his name shrilly. A woodcock swung 
chissicking over the trees, but there was no 
reply. He called a second and then a third 
time half challenge, half love note, as liquid 
as the dripping of the stream. Then the answer 
came, but not in the way that Karruck expected, 
for as he stood curtseying with expectation, 
something crashed into the branches above him, 
slithered awkwardly through the twigs, and 
dropped into the water. Even in the gloom he 
recognized a wide liquid eye like his own, and 
twitching tail-coverts, white as the foam-flakes 
which eddied by. That much he saw, and 
then, with a startled "kek-kek," she flew down- 
stream. He tried to follow and lost himself 
in the tangle overhead. But as he struggled 
up through the branches the moon came out. 
He saw the broad silver shield of light which 
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