SNOW AS IT FALLS, by Patricia Correll 2/10
She dreamed of rain and wind. Rain cold and sharp as splinters, fists of wind beating her forward until her wings failed and the wind tumbled her down to the ground that rushed up to strike her…
And she woke to a strange smell and warmth, and fell back into sleep, and woke and woke again, and the last time she did not thrust her head beneath her wing seeking darkness but stretched her neck and opened her eyes.
She was in a small place with a low sky and hard ground. The crane rose to her feet. Closer, she saw that the sky was not sky but wood; she smelled its dryness and saw the grains and knots. It frightened her, to be closed in beneath a roof of wood, and she tried to spread her wings and escape. But only one moved; the other was bound against her body by something soft. This frightened her even more, and she twisted her head around, picking at the soft thing with her beak. Long, clingy bits pulled away in her grasp, but still the thing bound her tight. She flapped her free wing, flinging loose feathers in white clouds. She jabbed at the soft thing in terror.
The strange smell from her dream yanked her out of hysteria. She raised her head. A creature had come inside, one of the featherless beasts she sometimes saw but never approached. He smelled earthy, not unpleasant. He carried a container of some sort, and from this container issued the scents of grubs, frogs, insects- food for a crane. The crane realized she was very hungry. The creature stared at her. He made an odd gesture, a bend at the waist, an incline of the head. Male cranes did that sometimes when they courted a mate. Was he courting her? The crane’s fear ebbed. She took a hesitant step toward the man.
“Hello, Lady Crane," he said.
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