The Greatwood and the Oasis were shady havens from the punishing sun as summer stretched long fingers over the land and sucked the moisture from the weary soil of the Hollowed Grounds. If he had been as wise as some of his friends seemed to think he was the bard would have been there, or else enjoying the cool underground comfort of his guild hall beneath the Atheneum. Instead he was looking critically over the dry meadows and fields surrounding Rory’s farm, feathered head cocked as he perched upon a fencepost. Sunlight gleamed over white feathers as the burning orb in the sky pounded unforgiving heat down onto the land, searing grasses a pale yellow to create a living mirror of itself on the earth below.
It was a heat he was unused to, coming from a northern land, and his beak parted as he panted and fluffed out his feathers for more insulation. But the danger from the flinthoppers had been made very clear to him: one of Longheat’s smallest threats, but all the more serious for being harder to hunt down, and capable of destruction far beyond their size. One spark in midsummer from a chatty flinthopper rubbing its legs together could create a fire in the dry fields that would feel like the sun had fallen to earth, a fire that would burn across the grasses and crops and leave only ashes in its wake.
A still-damp basket lined with snowmoss sat at the base of the fence post, woven of grey birch branches, knotted and twisted together in a tight, beautiful pattern with white crescent moons imprinted on the wood. A pair of flinthopper legs had already been deposited in it, safely away from the dry grasses. The rest of the insect had been spat out beside the basket after Jigano had realized that it tasted, frankly, terrible, even to his normally-forgiving corvid’s palate.
It also meant that he couldn’t simply call his feathered kin for assistance, he had to coax and cajole, bribe and compel them into helping, demonstrating what he wanted and promising proper food for all of them when they were done. Even now the five crows who had answered his clarion were hopping through or soaring above the fields, helping him to hunt down the flinthoppers. The white raven cawed once and took off as one of his assistants brought an insect over to drop its legs in the basket and spit out the body before going back to the hunt. Jigano flew up, appreciating the breeze for a moment, as it brought him temporary relief from the heat, before turning his sharp blue eyes to the grasses below, gliding low and slow to spot another of the sun-sparkers before they could threaten his friend’s farm.
It was a heat he was unused to, coming from a northern land, and his beak parted as he panted and fluffed out his feathers for more insulation. But the danger from the flinthoppers had been made very clear to him: one of Longheat’s smallest threats, but all the more serious for being harder to hunt down, and capable of destruction far beyond their size. One spark in midsummer from a chatty flinthopper rubbing its legs together could create a fire in the dry fields that would feel like the sun had fallen to earth, a fire that would burn across the grasses and crops and leave only ashes in its wake.
A still-damp basket lined with snowmoss sat at the base of the fence post, woven of grey birch branches, knotted and twisted together in a tight, beautiful pattern with white crescent moons imprinted on the wood. A pair of flinthopper legs had already been deposited in it, safely away from the dry grasses. The rest of the insect had been spat out beside the basket after Jigano had realized that it tasted, frankly, terrible, even to his normally-forgiving corvid’s palate.
It also meant that he couldn’t simply call his feathered kin for assistance, he had to coax and cajole, bribe and compel them into helping, demonstrating what he wanted and promising proper food for all of them when they were done. Even now the five crows who had answered his clarion were hopping through or soaring above the fields, helping him to hunt down the flinthoppers. The white raven cawed once and took off as one of his assistants brought an insect over to drop its legs in the basket and spit out the body before going back to the hunt. Jigano flew up, appreciating the breeze for a moment, as it brought him temporary relief from the heat, before turning his sharp blue eyes to the grasses below, gliding low and slow to spot another of the sun-sparkers before they could threaten his friend’s farm.
