Free Sunwing by Kenneth Oppel Page A

Shade’s fur like worms. Even on the hottest summer day he could remember, it had never been like this. He stole a glance up at the broad leaves, mossy vines draped from branches. It was hard to breathe.
    “Stupid bats.” The owl looked at the water once more.
    “No one’s coming to help you,” said Shade. “They’re too big to fit through.”
    “You’re in league with them, aren’t you?” spat the owl. “The Humans. They came to help you back there. They helped you escape, and they killed those other owls.”
    “They’re not dead,” said Shade. “They were still moving.” He couldn’t stop himself from feeling a pang of sympathy for the owl. Before his dream-dazed eyes, he’d seen the Humans snatch and steal his fellow creatures. This owl had been trapped in a forest, just like Shade, wanting to get out, not knowing what was happening to them.
    “They’re doing it to us too,” he said, looking quickly at Marina, not knowing if this was the right strategy.
    “Liars. You bats have always been lawbreakers. You started this war by killing birds at night. The city pigeons, then owls, then—”
    “That wasn’t us,” said Shade desperately.
    “They were bats.”
    “No … well, yes, they were bats, but not northern bats. Theycame from the jungle. The Humans brought them up from the jungle, and they escaped and—”
    “So the Humans
are
in league with you!”
    “No!” He looked despairingly at Marina. How could he explain this?
    “There were two of these jungle bats,” said Marina. “And they ate birds. They ate beasts. And they ate bats. They nearly ate us, if that makes you feel any better. They were monsters.”
    “And they’re dead now, anyway,” said Shade, with a brief surge of hope. “So this whole thing, the whole war, it’s a misunderstanding. We don’t want a war.”
    But he could tell from the owl’s rigid face he was far from convinced. Just more bat lies, that’s what he was thinking.
    The owl snorted. “This is stupid, talking to you. The enemy.”
    “I’m not your enemy.”
    “All bats are enemies. You kill birds.”
    “But I just told you … look, I’ve never killed any birds.”
    “Only because you can’t.”
    Shade felt a stab of guilt. The owl was right. How often had he wished for the power to kill the owls? For so long, he’d harbored a hatred of them.
    “Have you killed any bats?” Shade asked.
    “Not yet.”
    “Then you’re not my enemy, either.”
    “So why are you here, if you’re not in league with the Humans?” the owl demanded.
    “I told you. They’re trapping us too,” said Shade. “There’re thousands of us here, and yesterday, they came and took some of us away, just like they did to you back there.”
    The owl seemed to consider this carefully. “Where do they take them?”
    “I don’t know,” said Shade. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. How long have you been inside?”
    “Several weeks. Just before winter set in hard. We were flying to our hibernation site and passed over this building. We heard owls, and went closer. There were openings in the wall, and it looked like it might be a barn, a good wintering site, so we went inside and found the forest. And once inside—”
    “There was no way out.”
    The owl nodded.
    “What do they feed you?” Shade asked.
    The owl’s great brows furrowed at the question. “Mice, mostly,” he said hesitantly.
    “I bet they’re lousy, right? All taste the same?”
    A quick, somewhat alarming hoot came from the owl’s throat, and Shade stiffened before realizing it was laughter.
    “You should try the bugs they pump out for us,” said Shade. “I had one today, nearly gagged!”
    “Does the water have a strange taste to you?” the owl wanted to know.
    “Yeah, like metal,” Shade said.
    “Yes, metal,” said the owl with another short chuckle.
    “Well, see how much we have in common?” said Marina.
    The owl stared at them, some of his wariness coming back. “I won’t