The no-feathers captured him and kept him tethered on their belching, stinking ship. He didn’t understand that, or why the sky turned first black then red before the rains rained without mercy. By their lights, his captors were not unkind – but they would not let him fly.
Then one day, when it seemed to him that the rain had been gone a long time, they came to him and untied his tether.
“Fly,” the smallest one said, “and come back to guide us when you find land.”
He stretched his wings. “Caw,” he said harshly, “Return? I think not.”
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