"Swordbird" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yi Fan Nancy)

18 LIVING ON HOPE

In the cave Aska bathed Miltin’s wounds with springwater, spread a mountain herb poultice on them, and bandaged them gently. Miltin smiled his thanks, and then his eyes drifted shut.

Realizing that Miltin urgently needed something to eat, Aska went outside to seek food. Crawling among the boggy puddles, the blue jay cropped the soft tips of new moss and put them in her bag. But then Asa spied a small golden blossom amidst the dull green, its petals fluttering in the light breeze. The blue jay stood there motionless, watching the flower bloom in the misty coldness. She knew every plant of the woodlands by heart, but she had never seen such a flower before.

“Oh, how could something so beautiful live here? Is it a magic plant sent by Swordbird?” Aska whispered. “Thank you, Swordbird! Miltin can be saved!” Aska dug out every bit of the flower with care and rushed back to the cave.

Aska put the golden flower and the moss into a pot of springwater over the fire and stirred them with a spoon. The pot boiled, giving off a delightful smell.

The roots, leaves, and petals bobbed in the soup as if they were saying temptingly, “Eat, eat…”

Oh, how Aska wanted to taste it! “No! Miltin needs every drop of it to survive!” she told herself firmly.

She poured the soup into a bowl and gently woke the robin. Miltin attempted to hold the spoon, but he was too weak to do so. She fed him sip by sip. But after a spell Miltin refused to eat any more. “You need it to keep up your strength too!” he said.

“But you’re injured! You need it more than I do.”

“But who will gather food if you fall sick from starvation?” Miltin returned.

Aska laughed and agreed to sip a few spoonfuls yet left most of the soup for Miltin. Aska started to feed the robin again, and he meekly opened his beak to the soup spoon like a hatchling.

“It tastes…like spring…” Miltin whispered. He swallowed another beakful. “Like…like…”

“It’s the taste of a golden flower, the taste of hope,” the blue jay finished.

Miltin woke up early the next morning. To his surprise, the pain in his shoulder from the arrow wound had lessened, and the cuts and slashes from the Sklarkills’ spears no longer burned and ached. He tried a practice flight and found that his wings worked nearly as well as before.

Miltin rushed back to the cave to tell Aska the good news. “Don’t you think it’s strange that I can fly again?” Miltin grinned. “Let’s go out of the ravine and fly down the mountains now!”

I was right! Aska thought with wonder. That golden flower must be a magical herb sent by Swordbird! Thank you again, Swordbird!

Still, she was worried. Miltin seemed better and stronger, but his wounds were not completely healed. Aska forced him to wait until she finished checking and changing his bandages. The wound in his shoulder was the worst, deep and only half healed, and a long day of flying yesterday had already strained it.

The two set off.

The mist, as they went down the mountains, faded into a clear blue sky, so welcoming that it made Aska’s heart sing and Miltin’s heart soar.

“The Waterthorn tribe! Mother, Father, here I come!” Miltin yelled to the sunny forest below.