Nightingale

Chapter 11

Fable was no longer a girl as she waited outside in the hailstorm for Mr Hudson. She was perched in a tree high above the car park, and was trying to shelter beneath the few remaining leafy branches. It was a little nerve wracking being in this tree, as it still obviously belonged to another family of birds. She hoped they weren't feeling territorial, as she didn't know how long she would need to be up there. Her wings quivered whenever the cold wind blew, and she wished Mr Hudson would show up soon. It was bitterly cold - even for a bird. She was also starting to worry about the big, black raven, who had just flown out of a chimney nearby and was now sizing her up from the rooftops. His eyes were a piercing black; both inquisitive and daring. Fable could feel the rising hostility. He cawed out into the wind aggressively, and something about the way he cried made her think of the word 'pretender'. Was it possible the other birds knew she was different? They could probably sense it...

At that moment, Mr Hudson kicked the exit door open with a solid foot. He was balancing a stack of books in his arms which looked very heavy and unstable. The noise seemed to startle the raven, and he flew off into the whirlwind of precipitation, shrieking as he thrashed over the hills. Fable sighed with relief. She carefully observed as Mr Hudson struggled to his car, and threw the heap of books into the boot, and got into the driver's seat. She stalked him closely from above as he pulled out of the car park and began to drive to his home.

After about fifteen minutes of car ride, they arrived at a modern-style converted farmhouse which stood alone in the hilly countryside. There was a long, gravel driveway up to the entrance, and two strips of apple orchard on either side. Mr Hudson strolled up to the glass conservatory, and entered through a sliding door. Fable watched from the low blossomless branches of a cherry tree, as Mr Hudson bent down and greeted his pet Labrador, whose tail was wagging ferociously. If she was a girl, she knew she would be smiling at this wholesome scene...

She then watched as Mr Hudson stood up straight again and slid the door back open. Suddenly, the porch lights snapped on and the brown Labrador came bounding out into the garden, and was barking hysterically at Fable in the tree. She froze with fear, even though she knew this pet was harmless, his bark sounded so much louder and more intimidating to a small bird. It was like the acoustics were amplified and she could feel the vibrations in her throat...

"ROGER!" shouted Mr Hudson, still standing in the doorway, "Stop that barking! What is it boy?"

Roger the Labrador sprung at the tree with all his might, and before Fable could do anything, she found that she had lost her footing on the shaky branch, and had fallen to the ground below. It wasn't a long way to fall, thankfully, but Fable was in too much shock to recoup herself and fly away. Mr Hudson came running out and grabbed Roger by his collar to calm him.

"Oi, that's not like you, boy. What did you find?" he asked his loyal companion, "Wait...no way! Do my eyes deceive me, Roger? Is that a...nightingale?"

Mr Hudson commanded Roger to sit still as he carefully crept over to the cherry tree where Fable was still lying in a daze. He knelt down quietly by her side, and just stared at her for a while before deciding what do.

"Are you injured, little bird?" he asked her, sympathetically, and then scooped her up into his gentle hands. "Not often I see one of your kind away from the forests."

Mr Hudson took her inside, and found an old shoebox to hide her in while he rummaged around for nuts or birdseed. He had left her in the box by a bright and cosy fire. It felt good to dry the feathers which had been so cruelly battered by the wind and hail. She wasn't actually injured in the slightest, but wanted to play up to it for his sake. Fable wanted to study his room, but couldn't see much, as she was limited to the small, square snapshot of her boxy compound, and could only see part of a wall and mainly the ceiling. The ceiling was a creamy white with multiple spotlights twinkling out between the old, wooden rafters. He must have have left the beams in place to keep them as a charming, original feature. She loved how he had combined the modern furnishings with the traditional architecture, and reflected on how this was just another example of his wonderfully paradoxical tastes in aesthetics.

Fable heard a door creak open, and the sounds of muffled footsteps walking towards her. Her heart skipped a beat as Mr Hudson carefully removed her from the box and tried to offer her a small brown seed. She feebly took a nibble at it with her beak, and gazed up at him with big, sorrowful eyes. When their eyes locked, it felt like true love. It was like he knew her, and was staring into her longing soul with a mutual passion. Or maybe that was just her hopeful interpretation. Anyhow, she was happy to be held in the warmth of his cupped hands, and was starting to feel drowsy...

When she awoke, it must have been hours later, because she could see through a window it was pitch black outside and starry. Fable panicked, not quite knowing where she was and suddenly worrying her guardians would be missing her. She darted her head from left to right, and then looked up to see she was still in Mr Hudson's hands and that he was fast asleep on a reclining armchair. Cute - she thought, but then she rushed back to trying to leave... Three shut windows. A door. And a catflap! That would do. Fable hopped out of Mr Hudson's open palms and onto the floor. From there, she shuffled through the opening and out into the black night.