Where there were frogs and fish, there were often insects. The blue jay had never been to this willow forest before, but she hadn’t survived two previous winters by being stupid. Well, one winter she had survived by playing court jester for an idiot king and getting paid in better food than she could find for herself in summer, so that didn’t actually count. But, still, she had survived two previous winters, which, to birds like herself, meant better odds of survival than the foolish youngsters who don’t adapt.

Aster thought on this while she circled around, exploring the pond and its amusingly shaped plants (lily pads? She didn’t know the name) while she caught a few sluggish insects. Ha! That’s why she was here, in the southwest of the continent. Up north, she’d probably have to resort to carrion for protein, and she was good at talking her way into a flock (she’d talked her way into a flock of macaws), but, well, best not to be a strange bird on the outside of family loyalties.

Once she’d gotten her fill of insects, the blue jay stopped to rest on a high-up branch of a willow tree.

With a full belly and memories churning in her head… well, how about a song? She inhaled, puffed out her feathers. And sang A Minor Bird by Robert Frost. (https://allpoetry.com/A-Minor-Bird)

The need to get out of Polaris pack lands and go explore the world once more had gotten to be too much to ignore, so Haydée decided that today, she would do it. Crossing the Bifrost had been a bit of shock as the heat of summer bled way to the chill of winter and a shiver had raced along her spine as she set paw into Boreas. Still, the small woman couldn’t be deterred from her adventure and she happily trekked toward places she had not visited before. Tall willows weep in this land that she has found, their branches hanging toward the muted earth are bare and a winter wind gusts through them to send the long fingers clicking together.

With quiet awe Haydée slowly wanders through this place, wide, emerald eyes drinking in every small detail that she finds. Suddenly, a song catches her ear, filled with a sort of melancholy that speaks to her soul and the russet woman finds the words pulling at her. Paws trace a path toward the singer, until she comes to a stop underneath one of the many willow trees and she cranes her neck back in an attempt to try and spy the one who had offered the song. As the last words fall away, leaving a heavy silence in their wake, the young woman fails to find the owner of the voice.

A spell has been cast on the area and it feels as if the world has fallen silent in honor of the one who had woven the poem. Suddenly, she blinks and the world returns to normal, the drone of insects and the chatter of various small animals once more reaching her ears. Yet, Haydée cannot return to normal, not when someone has voiced such splendor. Finally, the russet woman decides to call out, “Hello there! Whoever was singing that song, I just want you to know it is beautiful.” A pause fills the space around her as she waits to see if someone will answer.


"Haydée Kedieo"

So intent in her song, Aster noticed the wolf’s approach only as a potential threat in the scenery. One of the unfortunate downsides of traveling solo meant she could never fully relax while singing. She had survived a few young hawks’ attempts to catch her while distracted, but Aster survived!

When she finished her song, she heard the voice of the wolf. Amusement flashed in Aster’s eyes. Most ground-dwellers didn’t think to look up, did they?

“Hello, hello!” Aster chirped. Her voice was friendly, and, for extra helpfulness, she noisily fluttered her wings and jumped down from the branch.

With her feet outstretched, she caught one of the almost-vertical branches of the willow tree and hung on. Now she was only about a meter and a half higher than the wolf, so much easier to converse with while staying safe. Aster thought it was silly when wolves tried to kill her; meant they were idiots, couldn’t see the value of long-term collaboration through the short-term desire to eat a morsel wrapped in feathers.

“I’m glad you liked that song! It’s one from my mom’s side of the family. And my name’s Aster!” She tilted her head side to side as she analyzed the russet wolf. “You’re a pack wolf, right?

Haydée cranes her neck back, trying to spy the weaver of the song as she compliments the singer. A bird chirps their greeting and a bright smile pulls at her lips as she sees a fluttering of wings on a branch way up high before the bird descends down to a lower branch where the russet woman is able to get her first look at the beautiful blue jay. Tail sweeps the air behind her as she looks up the stranger and listens as they speak.

The smile grows as Haydée looks up at them, the thought of eating such a beautiful soul never even crossing her mind. Who would want to silence a voice so sweet? A joyful laugh fills the air as the russet wolf dips her head in agreement and says, “Yep! I come from a pack down in Auster. I just wanted to go exploring for a bit and, well, I am glad I decided to visit the willows!” Voice is kind, genuine, and filled with a happiness that had seemed to hard for her to find lately.

Looking up at Aster, tail wagging a little faster, the woman says, “My name is Haydée and the pack I am part of is called Polaris. How many songs do you know, Aster?” Head tilts slightly to the side as curiosity colors her gaze, eager to hear more songs, if the kind bird is willing to share them.


"Haydée Kedieo"