For a few days in mid-September, the temperature seems perfect. It’s not boiling hot, but it hasn’t reached what you would call freezing cold yet. It’s a little chilly, but that makes you feel fresh and wide awake, and the wind isn’t horribly wild and hasn’t started biting at your face. It was one of those days, and so my dad and I drove down to the local woods to go for a walk. The ride was short, and I entertained myself by looking at the trees’ beautiful gowns of gold, red, and orange. Here and there, a pine tree popped up, looking serious and glum compared to the others around it. We stopped and parked in the small lot. I got out, and a cool, crisp breeze brushed my cheek and ruffled my blond hair. We started walking, and our feet crunched on the forest floor. Sometimes—in a sudden gust of wind—a brightly colored leaf would float gently down, adding to the great carpet of foliage already resting there. We talked some, but I usually skipped ahead of my dad, my hair whipping back, and breathed in the fresh, earthy smell of the forest. After a ways, about thirty minutes after we started, a bubbling stream wound itself towards us and continued to race merrily along the path. As we rounded a bend, I noticed a skinny, black animal drinking from the stream. I froze, for my first thought was, bear. My dad didn’t notice it at first but then stopped as well. He was a black lab that was obviously lost—or a stray. His fur was matted, and his ribs were showing. But there was also something around his neck. It wasn’t a collar—I could tell that much—but more like a piece of string. The animal heard our footsteps and turned to look at us. Well, he seemed to be looking at me. He wasn’t just looking, however. He was almost talking to me in a way I couldn’t explain—the way animals seem to give messages to humans without words, through just their eyes. This dog’s eyes were like melted chocolate, and if I had to say what he was conveying to me in words, it would be, “Help me.” Still frozen, I peered closely at him, trying to see what the thing around his neck was. But instead, I found myself gazing back into those eyes, as if I could not look away. And then the dog came slowly, tentatively, towards us, his tail wagging slowly. My dad unfroze and walked toward the dog, just as slowly as the dog walked toward him. Then my dad said, “Hannah, let’s get the dog back to the car, OK? Then we’ll take him to the Humane Society—he obviously needs help.” Unfreezing, I nodded. “Come on,” I coaxed. The dog was too willing. He bounded towards us, then stopped, and limped the rest of the way; his leg was hurt, it seemed. Half an hour later, we were in the small parking lot, and my dad was looking at the map to find the route to the Humane Society. I was looking at the thing around the dog’s neck. Tied on a red string was a piece of paper. In small, messy handwriting it said, “Please take care of Shadow.” Immediately, my heart went out to the dog. How could someone do that? How could someone let a dog survive on his or her own? And then a small question formed in my mind. What would have happened to Shadow if we hadn’t found him? Trying not to think about the answer to that question, I paid more attention to Shadow. His fur was as black as a raven, and one of his ears had a chunk missing from it. On the way back, I had petted him, but my dad said something about ticks, and so I stopped. But he had to agree with me that this dog was very cute. Well, if he was a little bit plumper, and his fur was brushed, he’d be adorable. When my dad folded the map and put it away, I dared to ask him, “Dad, can we keep Shadow?” “Shadow?” he asked. Then he sighed. “Hannah honey, you’ve named the dog already? You know we can’t keep him.” “No, look, Dad, it says on his tag.” “He has a collar?” “No, look.” My dad crouched down and looked at the tag that had been around his neck. I could see his lips forming the words as he read them. He was almost talking to me in a way I couldn’t explain Again, he sighed. “Well, let’s get going, Hannah.” I nodded, looking at Shadow. He was pacing around us, glancing sadly at me with his big brown eyes. We got in the car, and Shadow sat in the back, panting happily. “Can we keep him, Dad?” I pleaded. “No, Hannah,” my dad said firmly. “We can’t. I’m sorry.” “Please, please, please?” I begged. “Sorry, Hannah,” said my dad. “I just don’t want him to go to someone who’ll abandon him again,” I said. My dad sighed. “There are other people who care about dogs, sweetie,” said my dad. “I know,” I said. “But what if he gets placed in a home that doesn’t care?” “He won’t,” said my dad. “That’s what the Humane Society is careful about. ” I turned my attention to the trees again, but somehow they didn’t seem so interesting anymore. Half an hour later, we arrived at the building. We walked inside and I found myself in a room that had cages with cats in them, guinea pigs chattering anxiously, and sounds of barking dogs echoing through it. I wanted to take each cat home, and each gerbil and hamster as well. The lady took Shadow, and my dad dragged me out of the Humane Society. Though I begged my parents for Shadow, they refused. I pouted. They wouldn’t give in. Finally, I had to give

“We should have known better,” Garu grated angrily. The sparrow perched high in the apple tree, watching helplessly as the gray cat below devoured her kill. “Let’s leave. This is no place for the clan.” His fierce gaze flicked over his now small group: his trusted friend Baklan, Baklan’s mate Teekeh, their grown daughter Kila, and his own son, Liru. Liru looked up to him with imploring eyes. “Where? Where is there?” The sharpness in Garu’s voice changed to weariness. “I don’t know. But someplace.” He took off and the group followed suit. The summer evening air was cool and refreshing, but Garu could not enjoy it. He tried to keep his eyes ahead, but they kept glancing backwards at his son. Why did Liru have to have those pale brown feathers like his mother? Why did he have to serve as a reminder of that terrible event? A pain slashed through his heart. He remembered it all too well. *          *          * He and Lirana were flying together on a summer evening. The breeze was sweet and the sunset was radiant. It turned the green leaves of the forest below to gold. Little pink clouds skipped across the colorful horizon. He could see the smile on Lirana’s face and the gentle sparkle in her eye; a smile of pride at bringing up her first child. Their son Liru was a few weeks old and needed plenty of care, but Teekeh had offered to watch him for a while. Garu and his mate had eagerly taken the opportunity to enjoy the sunset and soar in the pleasant sky. And as Lirana let out a laugh of happiness and did a loop-the-loop in the air, Garu felt as if there was nothing more he could possibly want. He yearned to help, but he was overpowered by fear A screech rang in the quiet air, and suddenly all was chaos. Lirana screamed as the owl swooped towards her. The great talons were wide open, waiting to snatch prey out of the air. They closed with a snap—but Lirana was quicker. Her little pale brown wings tilted ever so slightly and escaped the flying predator. This happened once, twice, three times, and still the sparrow evaded the owl with inches to spare. But it could not last much longer. Meanwhile, Garu sat stupidly watching the scene from a branch he had crashed into when he had dived to avoid the owl. He yearned to help, but he was overpowered by fear. He was frozen in place. It had been growing steadily darker. The owl’s eyes were accustomed to the night, but Lirana’s were not. She was constantly twisting and turning. Then suddenly, in her inability to see, she doubled back—straight into the owl’s claws. Her scream rent the air, and then all was silent as the predator flew away with his kill. Garu felt numb all over. His claws came loose, and he fell from the branch. He landed in a soft pile of leaves, where he wept uncontrollably. *          *          * After that, he had left the forest, unable to stay at the place of his mate’s death. He had moved from one place to another—swamps, farms, cities, prairies, but never forests. He could not bear to be reminded. But everywhere he went, at least part of the clan was killed by one thing or another. And whenever they were, he left again, searching for a safer territory. But nothing had improved. Predators had picked off the clan one by one, until their number was reduced to a mere five. Suddenly, a screech rang in the quiet air, and instantly all was chaos. “Dad! Heeelp!!” Garu’s head whipped around at the sound of his son’s cry. A huge mottled owl was diving towards him, and Liru was flapping desperately. Garu’s heart skipped a beat, and then it plummeted down to his stomach. The nightmare was happening all over again. Baklan, Teekeh, and Kila had fled towards the fields below, leaving Liru to his fate. But Garu refused to do the same. This time he would not sit dumbly watching his loved-one die. He forced his wings to beat, and darted through the air towards his son. “I’m coming, Liru!” It seemed as if Garu had gone back into time. There was the little pale brown streaked sparrow, dodging and ducking, twisting and spinning. And there was the huge bird of prey, swooping and grasping thin air with gleaming talons. But this time Garu was not a spectator. He was a pursuer. Suddenly, he slammed into the owl’s back, and as soon as he realized what he had run into, he began tearing the owl’s feathers out, ripping and scratching. The owl was surprised at this ambush and rapidly dived down. Garu fell off the predator’s back and fell. But just in time he opened his wings and swooped upwards. He spotted his son flying away to safety and followed him into the darkness. The clack of claws sounded next to his ear, and there was a rush of air, ruffling his gray-brown feathers. The owl was after him. As he spun away to one side and then to the next, he saw Liru heading towards him. Regardless of his own safety, Liru was returning to help his father. “Liru, go!” screamed Garu. “Go, now!” He felt the whiff of air and tilted his wings to avoid the keen claws. “No!” his son shouted back. “I’m not going anywhere!” And he flew ever closer. “Liru, don’t you dare…” He never finished. Something sharp tore at his shoulder, and then he was free-falling, his wing flapping painfully and uselessly. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the illuminated golden eyes of the owl, and beyond that, his son hovering in the dark sky. *          *          * Long into the starry night Baklan watched for Garu’s return. He and Teekeh and Kila had flown down to a dense thicket when the