Hatched

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Alfred J. Kwak

Copyright: Hermann van Veen

The fledgling bird woke up to brightness, cold, and the shattering crack of the eggshell. The white ceiling above him was cracked too, and so were the shards of shell scattered around him. Some of them were empty. Some of them had things inside, bundles of dark spiky feathers that did not move.

A voice split the air, a deep rough voice, strong enough to shake the basket where he lay. He threw up his wings to cover his ears, but it still cut through him.

"This is all your fault!"

What did it mean by your fault? Was it speaking to him?

"Alois, please - " Another voice, higher and softer, a voice he remembered singing songs to him inside the warm darkness of the egg. It was not singing now.

"I gave up everything for you, Eva," barked the deep voice. "My home, my family! The least you could do is guard the nest properly!"

"I – I did everything I could, but … you know the doctor said it was unlikely - "

"Screw the doctor! If I'd only married a crow like my parents wanted me to, my … my children would be alive right now." The voice lowered and trembled for a moment, then rose again in fury. "But you blackbirds are all alike, I see that now! Careless. Irresponsible. Should have listened to Father from the start … "

The high voice let out a low, shivery sob. He remembered that noise as well.

"Get out of my house."

"But I – "

"You heard me, Eva. I never want to see your face again!"

"You don't mean that, Alois … "

"Oh, believe me." A dry laugh. "I mean it. Now get out, before I take my beak to you!"

Another sob; a rustle of feathers; a shadow passing over the nest, and what might have been the faintest brush of a wing on top of the small bird's head.

"Fine," said the high voice, harder and clearer than he had ever heard it. "But you'll be sorry for this one day."

"Hah!"

With a whoosh of night air through the open window, she was gone.

The fledgling, chilled and startled by the disappearance, let out a tiny chirp. The deep voice responded with a squawk that rattled all the shells around him.

"What the - ? Is that - ? Are you still alive?"

Chirp!

"Thank God … I can't believe this … oh, thank God! "

For the first time in his life, he found himself lifted out of the detritus of shells and bodies, caught up and cradled by a pair of powerful wings, and intently watched.

A tear drop fell; he tried to catch it, and squeaked when it fell into his face.

"Yellow, eh?" The large bird tapped the small one's beak with his. "Ah, well. That's easy to fix. When we go out together, no one will be able to tell that you're anything but a full-blooded crow.

"Because that's what you are, my boy, a crow. Remember that. The proudest race of birds to ever rule the skies. We don't need her … we don't need anyone. From now on, it's us against the world."

Chirp, chirp!

"That's right." A rumble of laughter. "And you know what? I've got just the name for you."

Chirp?

"Let's call you after my grandfather, hmm? Welcome to the world, little Dolf."