Twenty One

Hugo knew they’d been set up, for he’d heard his brother’s voice in the wind. His blood boiled with rage and his eyes blazed with a thirst for revenge.

“My men!” he rumbled, “in the name of our people, I urge you to show courage, wit and no mercy. We must get inside Blossom Valley, whatever it takes. Keep your spirit burning and let us gather speed for Blossom Valley.”

“Plato!” George cried. “Are you blind? Hugo’s unit is but a stone’s throw away. Can’t you hear the roaring?”

“You’re shaking, George. Are you cold?” Plato turned and looked at him with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

“Are all owls as unruffled, as you, Plato? My heart is about to pop out of my chest and you find time to joke?”

“Then compose yourself,” he answered calmly. “I’ve got it under complete control.” He cleared his throat and let out the sparrows’ signal.

With a deafening rustle, the sparrows emerged from the trees, slowly falling into a V pattern. They zoomed high in the air and hovered until the wood flies were right underneath them. The sparrow leader gave the order. The V nosed down and crashed on Hugo’s unit with such force, it sent masses of wood flies flying in the air then dropping on the ground like pellets in a hail storm.

Suddenly a young quavering voice filled with pain and terror cried. “Stop it! What are we fighting for? Our leaders lied to us. They have led us into death and distraction. I don’t want to die. No one wants to die.”

The sparrow leader told his birds to dissolve the pattern and retreat to the trees. He flew close to the stricken young wood fly. “You are right, young fellow,” he said. “But in a conflict, there will always be losses. It is inevitable. Some of my birds lay dead on the ground. Your losses are greater. I’m sorry but it wasn’t our choice. We had to defend our home. Retreat fellows. Go back to your families.”

“Where is Hector? Where is Hugo to lead us out of here?” shouted the young voice.

“Hector is dead,” an old wood fly’s voice replied, “and Hugo has just fallen. Good riddance to him! I hope he breathes his last breath on this land. I shall lead you home. Follow me!”

Then it all stopped. The sky emptied and stillness fell.

***

Lying on the stretcher, Hugo tossed and turned, then kept still. One of his men raised his head and stared at him. “Are you dead?” he whispered.

“No, I’m not,” Hugo replied. “Lie down and pretend you’re dead. Pass on the word to those that stir. No questions. It’s an order.”

Two rabbits carrying the stretcher rushed to the tent and left it on the ground. “What do you want us to do with them, Tawny Owl?” they asked. “Some of them seemed alive when we picked them up but haven’t moved a limb since. Shall we empty them into the basket with the dead?”

“No,” she replied, “not before I make certain I can do nothing to save them. Leave them there and run off to pick up the rest.”

No one would be watching a heap of dead wood flies on a stretcher, Hugo thought. So he and those few left alive crept out and, edging along the ivy wall, squeezed themselves into the valley.

“We need to find where the butterflies are kept,” he said.

“Are you after the butterflies? Why? Do you fancy them, then?”

“You’re being stupid now. Butterflies may be beautiful but they are vain and brainless. We have some very pretty females in our community. I can have any of them. Besides, it is best to keep to our own kind. I want to get my hands on the spider and she’s sure to be somewhere close to the butterflies. The spider must be caught and taken alive to our people. I’ll think what to do with the butterflies afterwards. I may have to kill them.”

Hugo and his men crawled and wriggled across different parts of the valley for a long time, searching and listening for any sounds, when at last one of his men said in a hushed voice, “there, there. Look! I can see a spider pacing up and down. Is it her?”

“It must be her,” whispered Hugo. “There’s only one spider in Blossom Valley.”

Taking great care and looking behind their backs, they crept through the thick grass until they were very close.

“Now,” Hugo whispered and his men pounced on her from behind.

Thelma was stunned but her voice came out firm and commanding. “What do you think you’re doing? Get off my back at once or...”

“Cut out that attitude of authority and importance, spider. It won’t wash with me. I am Hugo, the wood fly leader. We will take you to Penny Clearing, where in front of my people you’ll be punished for your selfishness and your cruel remarks against us. I will see, as leader of my population, that you’re hanged from our old oak tree until your last breath leaves you and your body shrivels.”

“I have done nothing wrong to be punished for,” Thelma retorted. “I did not refuse to allow your people to move in with us, and never said a cruel word against the wood fly world. It was all the grasshopper’s deceitful lies. And you, a mindless young leader who let a renowned cunning, scheming creature lead you on, it is you who should be held responsible. It is you who caused the loss of half your population, and in the end it might be you who will hang from your old oak tree.”

Hugo was taken aback, shaken by Thelma’s harsh, offensive speech, and it hurt worse, for deep down he knew there was truth in it.

“Shut up! Shut up!” he ordered, his eyes flashing with anger. He gestured to his men and they knocked her down. Some fell on top of her.

“Where are the butterflies, spider?” Hugo demanded.

“They’ve been taken away to safety,” she answered. She wriggled and turned and kicked to free herself, but couldn’t shake off the weight of so many wood flies on her back. In the struggle to keep her down the wood flies broke some of her legs and damaged some of her eyes.

“Where are the butterflies?” insisted Hugo.

Thelma gave an almighty push and managed to rid herself of the weight, and with great effort she stood on her remaining legs.

“The butterflies, like all of us in Blossom Valley, have done no wrong,” she said, “and if you try as much as lay a finger on them, our birds will fall upon your people like a ton of bricks. The entire population down to the last wood fly will be wiped out and there will be no place for you to hide, for you’ll be hunted down and hanged from your old oak tree.” Her legs wouldn’t support her any longer and she collapsed.

Deep inside the pen, Princess Estella kept trying to come out but Gloria and her girls blocked her way. In the end, determined to see what was happening out there, she pushed and barged and forced her way to the front of the pen. When she saw the wood flies carrying Thelma away, she let out a horrified scream. “No!”

Conti the frog who was at the hospital helping Tawny Owl’s team, heard. At once he hopped outside and at the top of his voice croaked once, twice, and a third time.

Plato and George were still up on the fir tree, silent, staring at the empty horizon.

The sound sent a jolt through George. He nudged Plato. “Did you hear? The frog hasn’t croaked like this before. Something is happening.” He shot off his perch and Plato followed him to the butterflies’ pen.

Princess Estella was crying her eyes out and couldn’t utter a word. Gloria, though shaken, spoke to Plato. “We knew something was going on out there but we never imagined it could be wood flies so close to the pen. We couldn’t risk going out. But Princess Estella managed to push her way to the entrance of the pen. She saw the wood flies taking Thelma away and she yelled. Then we heard the frog’s alarming croak.”

“It’s going to be alright, Gloria,” said Plato. “We are going to find Thelma and bring her back. Go and tell the butterflies.”

George stayed outside the tent while Plato went in to speak to Tawny Owl. “You must be exhausted, Tawny Owl.”

“I’m not complaining,” she said. “My team and I did all that was possible. We attended to the wounded and the dying. Sadly, we suffered quite a few losses ourselves. Some few have recovered. The seriously wounded are in hospital where my team know what to do. I’ll be going there shortly myself. The dead wood flies, a large number of them, we kept in the brown basket. The treated injured, are in the green. What are you planning to do with them?”

“The hares will take them in the ambulance cart to Penny Clearing. George and I will be flying there as well. The wood flies have taken Thelma. We’re going to bring her home.”