Chapter Two

After I woke up from a dreamless sleep, the sun had passed its zenith a few hours ago. I felt well rested and much better than I had that morning. Da was gone, the book he had read to me tucked neatly onto the shelf. I rose from my bed silently and crept to the window that faced the back.  Good- Da wasn’t there.  I opened my mouth and whistled five clear tones. The woods held its breath for a moment, and one bird flew out to my window.

“Hey, Bard,” I whispered sweetly. Bard landed on my outstretched finger and started tweeting rapidly. A few years ago, there had been a horrible blizzard, and I had found a baby bird right outside my window. I had brought the pitiful figure in from the cold and nursed him back to health and watched as his feathers turned from a bark-brown to the patterns of a Purple-Backed Starling. When spring rolled around, he learned to fly, but always came back.

Now, he’s my messenger and lookout. I held out a few bread crumbs in my other hand, and Bard snatched them out of my hand greedily. “Piglet,” I muttered affectionately. Once he was done feasting, he looked up at me for direction.

I may or may not have trained my bird to keep a lookout for Da. And carry messages for me.

He didn’t make another sound, which meant that the coast was clear. I whistled four notes this time, and Bard fluttered over to the window sill. He would make a racket when Da came close.

As he stood guard, I got into actual clothes instead of my bumming around clothes and descended the stairs. I grabbed a napkin and scribbled a quick note.

I’ll be back asap, Da. Going to the gardens.

Bard followed me as I crept through our simple home and out the door. I paused and grabbed my guitar from inside the door. My faithful robin’s egg blue bike leaned against the quaint white fence that defined our front yard, waiting for me. Bard jumped in the basket in the front of my bike, and I hopped on the seat. (Batman and Starling!)

I slung my guitar over my shoulder and took off down the driveway. I had left a note on the fridge telling Da where I would be going, but I couldn’t guarantee that he would find it. If he didn’t, I’d be screwed. While my father is an extremely kind man, he had his rules, and he expected me to follow them. When I didn’t, he turned a little pissy. But the sun was too warm and the breeze too gentle for me to keep worrying about what awaited my arrival at home. Bard was sleeping in my small basket, and my guitar was a comforting weight against my back. Within a matter of minutes, I was at the War Memorial Gardens in Dublin.

“Oi! Is that Stella Lyra I spot?” Yelled Clovis, who was one of my father’s friends.

“You bet, oldie!” I yelled back enthusiastically. I couldn’t help grinning- He was one of my only friends, even though he was an aging man of sixty-five years of age. He was balding, but he was constantly trying to grow it back using rogaine. His smile, however, never changed. For the longest time, he and Da had worked together to manage the Memorial Gardens. Clovis had transferred from the National Botanical Gardens before I was born, and he and Da had hit right off in the same low-paying position, despite the fact that Da was 25 and he was 45. They had worked their way up together, something that most people can’t seem to understand. Twenty years later, they were still the best of friends.

“Ye skipping,sweetheart?” He jogged up slowly to me as I slowed down. He may be old, but he could still give most people a run for their money in the athletics department.

“Well, according to Da, I’m ‘sick’.” I made hand motions around the word sick. “Now, I feel way better. Can I put blue in the shed?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. I’d best get back to work, otherwise, the trainees’ll think something happened to me.”

“I’m sure they’d be glad for the break!” I teased.

“Ah, I don’ work ‘em too hard,” he retorted shyly. “I’m nothin’ compared to my old manager, now lemme tell ye a story ‘bout that lass...”

“How about we do that while you give the lackeys a day off and we take a walk through the office? You can break the news to the newbies, and I can go put Blue in the shed.”

He grinned. “You always were a smartie-pants. Sounds like a good plan, sweetheart. Meet here, y’hear?”

“Sure thing, Clovis.”

Author's Note

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! AS always, thanks for giving me a read, and for continuing to read all about the true and fabulous life of Stella Lyra and co. And remember, sharing is caring!

Happy reading and your's truly,
Firabelle

Reviews

[Bear]

Critique: (whistled a five clear tones) whistled five clear tones
(watched as his feathers turned from a bark-brown) dark-brown

Review: A captivating chapter, it has a whimsical light friendly feel that is almost magical in it's telling that should make your readers want to follow the story. I give it five out of five Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing storyteller. You made the situation come alive. I liked the character. Give him life and reason. I liked the story of the birds and the journey to the garden. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote