If this last bird doesn’t reach my father, I don’t have any hope left.
I choke on a sob, cradling the raven. “Take my message to him. Please.”
Ever since that slip down the mountainside left me with a badly sprained leg, I knew this day would come. I just didn’t think it would…
I knew two things about Boston. Running was its heartbeat and ducks were always welcome. Momma had told me of that magical place when I was a duckling. As a grown hen, I shared the tale with my two daughters, Roxi and Sara, and our decision to move was unanimous.
Ten days after departing Rochester, we were gliding over Boston Public Garden.
I perched in the trees with my flock, waiting for the land walkers to leave. The tourists had nicknamed our home Murder Island ever since we chose to inhabit it. My name is Maximillian, but my crow brothers called me Boss.
Twilight painted the sky orange and pink as the last two…
“Sorcha, wait!” Mr. Devereaux calls. The pompous old duck is always telling me to wait. “Feudal Japan isn’t safe for foreigners. Europeans could be killed on sight.”
“Did anyone warn my brother of that?” I yell over my shoulder.
I plunge through the dripping trees to the road beyond.
In honor of my first Crossing the Line—or equator, as landlubbers call it—I bought a parrot. Scarlet she was, with a tuft of white atop her head, which I smoothed down, saying, “I’ll call you Poll Whitecap,” thinking of the foam-topped waves.
“Can’t believe you paid so much for…
The gulls were the worst part. Daedalus had expected that, though not the reason why.
Often enough had he and his son, Icarus, seen those feathered thieves shrieking and snatching fish, fruit, or whatever else they could gobble along the Cretan shoreline. They’d had plenty of opportunity for such observations. Crete’s ruler
“You said we were going to the beach.”
We both stared at the frozen wasteland. A gust of frigid wind blew into the time machine, swirling around us and stealing our breath away.
“Um.” With one last glance at the desert of ice and snow, I slammed the door shut and frowned…
In northern Tanzania, almost to the border of Kenya, lies a lake shrouded in mountains and mystery. Petrified birds stand on our shores as silent witness—a warning to all who would enter.
Grass plains surround our lethal lake, a place where rivers come to die, their only escape through evaporation. With water temperatures
“Homeward bound,” I announce, opening the door of my time machine. The chromium steering lever on the control panel gleams invitingly.
“Blitzkrieg!” Cuthbert the parrot flaps onto my shoulder.
“You can stop shrieking that ridiculous code word now,” I grumble. “The mission is over.”
And what a mission it was. I’m not one
I stared at the animal perched on the Archmage’s hand. While its head resembled a dragon’s, it definitely wasn’t one. It was a brown, fluffy bird with big eyes and a tiny beak. The bird lifted a wing and began preening its feathers.
I bit my lip. “Are you sure this is my familiar?
I stepped into Gram’s room in Sandy Valley Home and nearly dropped my fresh-cut flowers. Gram sat next to the open window, her arm half-buried in a bucket of dried insects and grubs. She tossed some onto the pavement where a crow pecked hungrily.
Hazel, Gram’s aide, smiled at me. “You’re just in time,
Marta clutched a bag of medicinal herbs as she hurried down the dusty street. She brushed past a man holding a chicken he had just purchased, and she jumped backward at the animal’s squawk. Marta collided with a boy grasping a wooden box. It fell with a crunch.
“Dios mio!” The boy glared.
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