Eleven

The strong winds had snatched George’s cries and sent their quavering echoes across the woods and plains. Up in his tree Plato stirred when the first echo travelled though Penny Wood. He listened. There came a second, then a third.

“A crow’s cries,” Plato muttered.

Immediately he let out his alarm hoot and Swift, the scout bird, responded in no time.

“I heard the cries.” Swift said. “I gauged their direction. They came from over there.”

“That’s the direction of Devil’s Gorge,” Plato replied. “There isn’t much life up there. What could have happened?”

“I was on my way to investigate when I heard your call. I’m certain it was a crow’s cries for help.”

“Swift,” Plato said urgently. “Send Nurse Tawny Owl over there. The ambulance cart must take the short cut behind the hospital. Tell the hares. They’ll know which route I mean. Avoid talking to anyone, even Thelma. Otherwise panic will spread throughout the valley.”

Swift nodded and in the blink of an eye he’d disappeared into the clouds.

Plato sped through the air in eerie silence but after he’d left the woods and plains behind, the strong gusts of the northerly wind, came racing against him whipping his wings and snatching the air from his lungs. He blinked trying to see through his clouded eyes, but could make out nothing. He dropped to the ground and regained his breath. He dried his eyes and looked around to make sure the wind hadn’t drifted him off course.

“Plato!” exclaimed Gloria. “I flew out to see whether you were coming. I knew you’d pick up the cries and was certain you’d come. Am I glad to see you, old, friend!”

“What on earth are you doing up here, Gloria?” Plato said in puzzlement.

“I’ve got my girls with me,” she replied. “There’s no time to tell everything but, in a nut shell, the ladybird tried to kill the butterflies. The crow saved them but is now lying on the brambles, as good as dead.”

Plato swallowed hard to get rid of the lump that suddenly wedged into his throat. “Let us make haste, Gloria,” he said. “We’re only a short flight away.”

Plato’s eyes filled with grief as he hovered over George’s still body. Trying to avoid the sharp thorns, Plato landed beside the crow and bent over his chest but he couldn’t tell if there was a heartbeat there.

“George, can you hear me?” he cried, his face right beside George’s. “Hold on, my friend! Help, is arriving. Can you hear me?”

But the crow’s eyes remained shut tight and his body stiff.

“Has he got a pulse? Did you check?” were Tawny Owl’s words before she’d even landed.

Plato looked up. “I couldn’t find any. I hope I’m wrong but I thought his body was slightly warm if that means anything.”

Tawny Owl, her face marked with anxiety, hovered over George’s body.

“The thorns look ominous,” she said gravely. “He’s lost a lot of blood. His back must be stitched straight away or he won’t last and it could already be too late. I can’t do it down there, Plato. I’m going to fetch the reel of vine I always keep in the ambulance. There’s no other way but to haul him up.” With that she was gone.

For a few short seconds Plato remained sceptical, his mind working fast, weighing up the options.

“Hauling him up won’t do,” he said loudly to himself. “The thorns will pull on his feathers and tear the skin. No time to consider any other option but to act now, for every fraction of a second is precious.”

At once he set his strong beak to work, hacking at the dry thorns. With great speed he went as far under George’s body as possible and under his wings. After he had freed both wings, he folded them across George’s chest and went on clearing a big patch he could steady himself on. Next, he curled his talons under George’s body and beat his wings hard to give them power. He slowly lifted up and up, inch by inch, until finally he reached the top and lay George’s body on the stretcher.

“Do your best, Tawny Owl,” he gasped breathlessly.

The bumblebees, the ambulance hares and even Tawny Owl who’d been watching on tenterhooks heaved sighs of relief.

Before she turned George on his tummy, Tawny Owl forced his beak open and squeezed a couple of drops of some thick liquid in. She then washed away the blood and, taking great care, she stitched the torn skin. She spread another kind of jelly on his back and took him to the ambulance which drawn by the four special hares zoomed out of sight.

Plato fixed his eyes on Tawny Owl, waiting for her to speak.

“George is gravely ill,’’ she began. “He’s lost a lot of blood. I’ve given him something that hopefully will steady his weak heart beat until he and I can get to the hospital. He may not make it, Plato, I must warn you. His wings are badly bruised and a number of the finer bones on his back are fractured though they may heal with time. What mostly worries me is his mental state. He suffered a horrific shock today and not so long ago he went through the trauma of seeing his parents shot, followed by the fire at Crow Lake. He’s been through a lot of emotional suffering, Plato. He will need the best attention and medical care, which of course he will get. I only pray to God that he stays with us. Thelma needs to know. I trust that you’ll tell her as soon as you get to the valley.”

Tawny Owl beat her wings and in the next instant she was speeding across the sky.

Plato sat pensive, lost in sorrowful thoughts, his eyes staring into empty space. It was Glo who shook him out of his thoughts. “George is strong and determined, he’ll pull through you’ll see,” she said with a smile. “The butterflies should be safely in Blossom Valley by now. We’ll leave it to you to tell Thelma what happened. Heather is securely cooped up in the wicker basket. The young ones who did no wrong, the crow told me before, he...” - she hesitated - “we kept them separate. We’ll bring them over in a while. Give the ambulance cart time to reach the hospital and Tawny Owl a chance to see to George.”

“You’re very thoughtful and kind, Gloria,” Plato said. “All of you are and we are very grateful. I hope you’ll stay in Blossom Valley for a while. I’m sure you’ll want to know how George is doing.” He nodded his head in farewell and rose in the air.