Free The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly by Sun-mi Hwang

brace, Greentop might be chased away. Sprout thought that might be for the best. She wanted to take him back to the reservoir. Even if he was alone, at least he wouldn’t be humiliated, and he would be able to fly freely.
    The night passed. Greentop wasn’t kicked out. The brace of ducks stuck their heads in the trough to eat, and Greentop ate from a smaller bucket. The farmer’s wife had arranged that for him. It was clear she wanted him there. Anyone would, with his glistening feathers and beautiful form. If she wanted him, the rooster and the leader of the ducks would be forced to let him live in the barn. The ducks went off for a walk, with the leader at the head and the young ones trailing behind. When Greentop went to follow the young ducks, the farmer’s wife grabbed him. He quacked in fright and flapped his wings. Sprout sprang to her feet. The ducks ignored the ruckus and continued on toward the reservoir. The farmer’s wife tied Greentop to one of the wooden stilts elevating the chicken coop. He tried to escape but couldn’t. He burst into tears, as did Sprout. No matter how hard he flapped his wings, he couldn’t free himself from the cord. Sprout should have told him why they’d left the yard in the first place. Then he wouldn’t have gone back. She couldn’t sit still. Struggling to free himself, Greentop refused all food. The rooster family strolled into the garden, and the dog snoozed. In the evening the ducks returned, and everyone went into the barn to sleep.
    Sprout hung around the perimeter of the yard. She wanted to go up to Greentop and stroke his back.
    â€œStill alive? You’re a tenacious one,” the dog growled through his bared teeth.
    Sprout glared at him fiercely. “You think I survived out of luck? I’ve experienced it all. You better not bother me.”
    â€œHa! So confident. Well, you did raise a duckling. But don’t even think about coming into the yard. I’m a strict gatekeeper, so I have the habit of biting first.” He sauntered back into his house.
    From under the acacia tree, Sprout called to Greentop, “Baby, Mom’s here. Don’t cry. We’ll figure something out.”
    â€œMom, don’t leave me here! My leg, it hurts!”
    Her nerves on edge, Sprout paced around. The farmer and his wife hadn’t tied up Straggler. So why Baby? Still pacing, she approached the Hole of Death without realizing it.
    Sprout sensed something insidious. In the darkness, something glared at her. The weasel. But he had only one glinting eye. Sprout puffed out her neck feathers and tensed her claws. Her blood boiling, she was ready to go on the offensive. The weasel had a dying chicken between his jaws. Sprout could detect the twitching of a wing. The weasel approached her slowly, and she didn’t retreat. He wouldn’t get her while he had dinner in his jaws. He set the chicken down but didn’t crouch to attack. Sprout puffed out her chest and glared at him.
    â€œA delectable duck,” the weasel sneered. “I’ll get him before long!” He laughed menacingly.
    â€œYou’ll never get him!”
    â€œNo? Even though he’s tied to that stilt? Soon he’ll be so fat he won’t be able to fly. That’s how they get tame.” Again the weasel laughed. Sprout suddenly understood. Straggler wasn’t tied down because his wing was damaged; he couldn’t fly away. “And you!” the weasel hissed. “You blinded me in one eye! I’ll get you back. Both of you, soon enough.”
    Sprout was astonished. That piece of flesh in her mouth had been the weasel’s eye! “I’d rather drown in the reservoir than let you devour me,” she shot back.
    â€œDon’t do that. I don’t like eating dead chickens. Stay alive and just watch what I do to your baby!” The weasel laughed yet again. He grabbed his chicken and disappeared into the darkness.