A Wing and a Prayer (The John Morano Eco-Adventure Series Book 1)

by John Morano

  When Lupé heard the reason she had come, you could have knocked him over with a strand of hair.

  Sirka took a deep breath of cool evening air. She was nervous—very nervous—and used the silence to focus her concentration. She stepped closer to Lupé and looked him in the eyes. They were beak to beak. Only a breath separated them.

  Sirka whispered, “It must have been terrible to have your freedom taken.”

  “There is nothing worse.”

  “In a sense,” Sirka continued, “we are both the same. We are both alone, both waiting.”

  “You’re not alone. You have Tapao, the youngsters, and the Darums. What could you be waiting for?”

  “You know what I mean, Lupé.”

  And for the first time, the petrel thought he understood. But understanding what Sirka meant only confused him more.

  Lupé said, “I am alone because I have no choice. I am my flock’s orphan. But Sirka, you have chosen to be alone.”

  Without even blinking, Sirka said, “And now I have made another choice. I choose you, Lupé.” Gently, she began to preen the feathers along the nape of Lupé’s neck.

  His heart began to race as Sirka touched him. It was a sensation he had never felt before. How could this be happening? Lupé thought. Sirka was not of his flock. She could not be the one sent by Pettr. All he had to do was leave. But with the moon shining in her eyes, and with Sirka’s beak buried in his feathers, Lupé finally admitted something he had known from the moment he first saw her—Sirka was beautiful.

  Lupé stepped back from her. He knew he could do only one thing: follow his heart. He cast everything else to the wind and allowed his emotion to speak for him. “I am alone no more,” he said. “I have you.”

  Sirka smiled. “We have each other… This is no world to be alone in.” She studied Lupé. His black-and-white plumage reminded her of her home, black sand streaked with sliding white foam. It was a powerful memory.

  The two birds approached each other again, for the first time. Lupé reached his wing out to Sirka. And then he stopped. He wasn’t really sure what to do next. He had never been with a female before. The realization, especially at this moment, made him nervous, frightened. But again, he decided to trust his heart.

  They were back in each other’s wings. Lupé found himself whispering, “Do you know what I always dreamt of doing?” The two birds looked at each other. Lupé turned to the surf, and Sirka followed him to the quiet crash-swish.

  Under the moonlight, stroked by the spray of the surf, was where Lupé wanted to find love. The shoreline fizzed and frothed with a fringe of tiny waves. The sea called the pair into the water, and the invitation was readily accepted.

  They each spread their wings. Then the breeze joined in, gently lifting them into the air as one. With their union blessed by both wind and sea, Lupé knew it had to be right.

  A large cloud was nudged by the wind to reveal a bare moon. In its light, Lupé could see how stunning his mate was. She is as true as flight on a windless day, he thought. A steady stream of moisture cascaded down Sirka’s sides. Her black feathers had a translucent shine, like sea-soaked lava stone illuminated with starlight. The little drops of water that bounced and dripped off Sirka glistened in the night, sparkling as they fell. Lupé could feel her next to him. She was as soft and warm as white sand in the summer sun. It was a vision, a love he had waited his entire life to find.

  Sirka laid her dark head against Lupé’s pale breast, snuggling into feathers that looked like they were stolen from gray clouds. Under his plumage, Lupé felt firm and full. He is striking, she thought. The pair held each other tightly. Floating in the surf, they began to coo and purr, nuzzle and stroke.

  When Lupé and Sirka returned to their nest, Sirka fell fast asleep. Lupé, however, could not relax. There was too much to think about, too much to sort out. He was amused by the thought of what Stithl would say when he arrived for his daily visit… And then Lupé considered how Tapao might react. It is one thing to like the outsider, Lupé thought, but when he falls in love with your niece, your only living relative, attitudes could change.

  But the more the petrel thought about it, the more he believed Tapao would not be upset with the news. Lupé wondered if this might actually be something Tapao had wanted all along. After all, it was Tapao who had sent him to Sirka in the first place. Was he the one who had designed their future?

  Lupé gazed at his mate. Whenever Sirka exhaled, he could feel the air sneaking through his feathers, caressing his skin. Her soothing breath crept past the flesh and climbed inside Lupé, warming his soul and filling something that had been empty too long. Sirka was a blessing. And whatever Tapao or anyone else might think did not matter.

  It was done, Lupé reasoned. He had taken a fine mate… well, more truthfully, a fine mate had taken him, and he was glad of it. As Lupé sat looking at the stars and listening to the surf, an idea blew into his mind that he could not ignore: offspring. What would they be like? Lupé knew that his children would never be exactly like him, a full-blooded Gwatta. He became disappointed in himself, thinking that he might have traded his flock’s purity for his own happiness.

  But Lupé knew that even though his offspring might not be pure, some of his flock’s heritage and lifestyle would endure. He would see to it. Their young would be neither Gwatta nor Darum, yet they would be both. Lupé wondered if he and Sirka were chosen to create a new flock, which led him to consider something else. All his speculation rested upon one very large assumption: that he and Sirka would even be able to have young together. It was the one thing that would prove whether Lupé’s choice was the same as Pettr’s.

  Just before dawn, as the pair lay next to each other, Lupé woke. Another troubling possibility nagged at him. Now that he and Sirka were nesting, what would he do if a female from his own flock ever turned up? Which would be more important, the obligation to Sirka or the obligation to his flock? From where he sat now, the petrel knew it would be impossible to say. He decided to cross that sea when he came to it.

  There was, however, one thing he did know, one thing that would not change. He loved Sirka. And since love was a good thing to build a family on, why not a flock? Lupé accepted that the female who slept next to him was the one sent by Pettr, and he believed that one day, they’d have the young to prove it.

  The morning greeted the newlynests with an orange sunrise streaked with yellow and red, dusted by thin, white clouds. It heralded a new life for Lupé and Sirka—theirs. The pair began their first day without words. They stayed close, preened each other, and watched Pettr’s eye fill the sky.

  When the sun was free from the sea, Sirka prepared to meet her students. She rose, stretched her wings, and ruffled her feathers, hinting that Lupé should also prepare to go. He, however, had a look on his face that Sirka had seen before. She was not surprised when her mate finally asked, “Would you mind if I joined you later? I would like to visit the shore and listen to our world.”

  Sirka was the type of bird who quickly understood what was said and just as quickly understood what wasn’t said. She ran her beak down Lupé’s neck and softly cooed, “The secrets of the planet are whispered. They are no louder than a supple breeze or a calm sea. Go to the shore and pray to Pettr. Tell me later what you learn.”

  There was love, and there was trust. Lupé smiled and launched himself toward the surf.

  The petrel came to his favorite spot. He positioned himself so that the wind was in his face. The sand and the sea covered his webbed feet, and the sun warmed his body. Just as he was about to begin, the petrel noticed someone on the rock next to him—Stithl.

  “Yo, Lubé!” the iguana called. “Whudd’a goot mornin’.” Then he crawled off the rock to be closer to his friend.

  Lupé decided not to tell Stithl anything. He was very uncomfortable with how Stithl treated serious matters like love, romance, and nesting. That’s just the way reptiles are, so cold blooded. They can’t help it, Lupé conceded to hims
elf. Still, he was determined not to mention Sirka. No good could come of it.

  Unfortunately, Stithl had come to no such decision. The very first thing he asked was, “Why aren’d ya wid Sirgka an’ ta groub? Whudd’a ya doin’ here?”

  Lupé kept it vague. He explained that there were some things on his mind and thought a little meditation might help. He hoped Stithl would take the hint and leave him to his thoughts, but “hint” was not a concept Stithl understood.

  A sly reptilian grin creased the lumpy lizard’s face as he asked, “Who wuz dad who visidet ya lassd nighd?”

  Lupé said nothing.

  Stithl continued, “I would’n’ve menshun’d id ad all, bud I live so glose, I gouldn’d helb bud nodice.” This lizard’s grin did not disappear. Rather, it grew tighter and more twisted.

  “Id’s jussd, well, ad firsd id loogk’t da me ligke ya were in drouble. I dought’d ya mighd neet my helb, bud as I grawl’t oud from unda my rogck… Well, Lubé, all I gan say iss dad id wuz obvious ya neetet no helb from me.”

  The petrel was not enjoying this at all, and that made it all the more enjoyable for Stithl.

  “Ya know me, da lasd ding I’t eve wanda to iss bry, bud dell me one ding, if ya will be so kint.” At this point, it looked like Stithl was fighting to hold his grin in place, not to keep it from vanishing. He was trying to keep it from exploding. The iguana continued, “Wuz dad Sirgka I saw ya wid?”

  It was obvious to Lupé that Stithl already knew the answer to that question and a whole lot more. It bothered the petrel so much, the way Stithl was playing with it, that he screeched, “How dare you, you cold-blooded, stone-sitting, landlocked lump of a lizard. This isn’t something I care to discuss with some insincere algae eater who just crawled out from under a rock. Besides, I don’t peck and tell.”

  “Goodn’d dad be begcause ya’ve neva agcdually pegck’d before? Bud ya dit lassd nighd, ditn’d ya?”

  Lupé said nothing. The thought of being with Sirka was so strong, he reacted physically. He felt a warm satisfaction throughout his body. A new security and purpose filled what had once been empty within him. Lupé had a mate. She was real. They were real, and he would be with her again tonight, tomorrow… forever. When the petrel returned from his thoughts about Sirka, he found himself facing Stithl in a dreamy haze, grinning like a dolphin.

  It was all Stithl needed to see. His question was answered.

  Then the lizard made a strange request. He said, “When ya see Dabao, magke sure ya dell `im dad you an’ Sirgka’r nesdin’ ub tugetha.”

  Lupé did not bother denying the development. Stithl knew, and that was that. Instead, Lupé explained that he wasn’t sure how Tapao would react to the news. So it might not be such a good idea to just land next to the Darum leader and blurt out, “By the way, your niece and I are nesting.”

  The iguana emitted a wheezing snicker and said, “Jussd dell `im, he’ll be habby.”

  “That’s a nice thought,” Lupé replied, “but I’m not so sure that’s how it will go.”

  “Drussd me, Dabao won’d be ubbsed.”

  Lupé hated false confidence, especially when the source of it had nothing to lose.

  Stithl continued, “An’ when ya dell Dabao, remint `im dad he owes me twendy glams… oben’t.”

  “Why would Tapao owe you twenty clams?”

  “Id’z a nesdin’ presend.”

  “But I’m the one who’s nesting,” the petrel said.

  Stithl nodded. “An dad’s why he owes me dwendy oben’t glams.”

  Now Lupé knew why the lizard was so confident Tapao would approve of the mating. He had paid Stithl to help it happen.

  But before he could give the corrupt reptile the lambasting he deserved, the iguana said, “Loogk, Lubé… if I tawd I wuz goin’ da be involve’t wid someding dad would hurd ya, I would’t neva `ve wend along wid Dabao. Bud ya love Sirgka, an’ she loves ya’ bagck. Dabao an’ I knew dad a long dime ago. We jussd helb’t ya bo’t realize id. An’ neet’a of us force’t ya ta do anytin’. Ya habby. Sirgka’s habby. Dabao’ll be habby. So whud’s da harm if I ged dwendy glams for spreatin’ a liddle habbiness?”

  Stithl suddenly stopped. He creased his already creased brow, twisted his already twisted mouth, and raised his tail. The lizard grinned at Lupé and said, “Maybe I bedda assgk fa’ fiddy. Whudd’a ya dingk? Dings really dit worgk oud nice.” With that, Stithl strode away, lost in thought, planning his renegotiation.

  Lupé was amazed at how unpredictable the creatures on Galahope were. They may be strange, he thought, but they are kinda fun. He could not deny that he was happy to be with Sirka. And if Stithl was correct, which was a big if, Tapao would be happy too. So it seemed all was well—everyone was pleased.

  The surf that broke near Lupé grew more lively as it rushed over his legs, shaking him. A thick band of white covered the shallow shoreline, foaming and bubbling where the sea struck rock and sand. Lupé scanned the horizon. A dark figure broke through the clouds and plummeted from the gray sky. Lupé’s initial reaction was to think hawk. And then he knew. It was a Darum, the one who would not be happy with the news.

  The Darum dove with the sun fully behind him, hoping the glare would keep Lupé from noticing the attack. It was something hawks often did, a technique Kurah had taught his son to spot long ago. Lupé had also learned that an approach like this meant only one thing. There would be no talk. Bog had death in his heart.

  For a moment, Lupé thought he would fly up to meet Bog in the sky. He knew Bog did not have the skill to fly with him, but even if they did battle on the wing, the fight would ultimately be decided on land. That was where the final blow would fall. Lupé understood that only one bird would fly away from this encounter. And he was going to make sure it was a Gwatta.

  Lupé prepared himself within. On the outside, he stood as though he were deep in prayer. He let Bog continue thinking the attack would be a surprise. And with Bog virtually on top of him, Lupé bounced to one side, caught his attacker’s beak with his own, and drove it down into the ground. When Bog’s beak caught the sand, his momentum was shattered. It flipped him over, and he struck the beach with his back.

  Lupé gave his opponent one chance to reconsider, but the gesture was wasted.

  As he rose to face Lupé, Bog screeched, “You will not plant your seed in my flock!” Then the Darum swept his wing along the ground, spraying the Gwatta with sand while he also fired a blast of oil at his enemy. When Lupé extended his wing to shield his eyes, Bog attacked. He shot in under the wing and grabbed Lupé’s neck with his beak. Bog held his opponent by the throat while he crashed his relatively large body against the smaller petrel. Lupé’s neck was being stretched and crushed at the same time. A closed beak slammed into Lupé’s flank, another ripped at his leg, and yet another twisted his wing.

  He wondered, “How many beaks does Bog have?” A better question would have been, “How many beaks does Bog command?” Others had arrived and joined Bog in tearing at the Gwatta. There was nothing Lupé could do. When he wriggled free from one, the others held him. When he popped into the air, they grabbed him and forced him down, and the beating intensified. At this rate, Lupé knew he could not last long.

  The petrel needed help… and that’s exactly what he got. From a rock overhead, Stithl threw himself onto the pecking pack. A moving mass of feathers, with an iguana draped over it, rolled down the shore into a small tidal pool.

  By the time they splashed into the shallow water, Lupé was free from the tangle of attackers. When the others got to their feet, several popped into the air ready to resume the destruction of Lupé. But Stithl made them pause. He whipped one of the birds from the air with his tail. Lupé noticed and was happy the iguana’s appendage grew back so quickly and so fully.

  The Darums wanted to keep Lupé grounded so that he could not escape. But now they were faced with a problem. In order to keep Lupé from flying, they’d have to battle Stithl as well. Lupé had a deadly ally. Althoug
h he usually appeared quite slow and sluggish, when he wanted to, Stithl could be incredibly quick, striking with the flash and power of lightning. The lizard stood high on his front and hind legs. He opened his jaws and angled his hard head while he hissed and snapped at the petrels. The reptile knew how to fight and was ready to go the distance.

  For the most part, Bog’s companions were terrified. Stithl made sure no other thought entered their little minds. He grabbed the bird he had plucked from the sky. When he had the Darum in his jaws, he rolled his own body with an abrupt, violent twist, his own riff on a crocodile’s death roll, snapping the petrel’s wing like a dry twig. This was one Darum who would never fly again. It presented a possibility that did not appeal to his comrades. They understood exactly what Stithl was telling them.

  The lizard released the bird and called to Lupé, who was still occupied with his own battle. “I can gkeeb `em away, bud ya’ll havda teal wid Bog yasef.”

  Which is precisely what Lupé did. He and Bog wrestled, scraped, and bit until they broke free from each other. They faced off, petrel to petrel. Bog slid his crooked, chipped beak back and forth slowly. A grating click cut through the air. Then Bog said, “You are what’s left of a dead flock, Gwatta. I will not allow us to become infested with your weakness.”

  Lupé answered, “As the last of my flock, aren’t I also the strongest?”

  “But I am the strongest of both our flocks. You are the end waiting to happen. And now is the time.”

  Lupé did not move. He wasn’t sure what to do next, so he decided to wait for Bog to strike. If his opponent made a mistake or a foolish decision, Lupé would take advantage.

  “Now I will remove you from this island, and I will remove the Gwattas from this Earth.” With that, Bog spread his wings, shot a stream of hot oil at Lupé, and charged. Lupé flapped once and lifted himself above the attack. Bog looked up. He was prepared to crush whatever part of Lupé he could catch with his beak. And when the Darum opened his mouth to bite, Lupé closed his own beak tightly and rammed his head down into Bog’s throat.