Riverwing and the Fire Across the Reeds

Riverwing swept beneath the river's bright surface, her wings folded close as the current streamed over her water feathers.

A silver fish flashed between two stones. Riverwing twisted after it, quick as a falling ribbon, but the fish slipped into the reeds near the bank.

She surfaced laughing.

"You win this turn."

Something blue winked below her.

Riverwing dipped her head underwater and lifted a smooth stone from the riverbed. It was no bigger than the end of her talon, deep blue with one pale stripe around its middle. She turned it in the sunlight, pleased by the way the wet surface shone.

Then she smelled smoke.

Riverwing's head snapped toward the far bank.

Beyond a stand of dry reeds, a thin gray line climbed into the sky. A red flicker appeared beneath it. Wind pressed the smoke toward the river.

The blue stone dropped from Riverwing's talons.

She surged out of the water and spread both wings. The river lifted with her. It gathered behind her in a shining curve, higher than the reeds and wide enough to strike the whole bank at once.

"Riverwing, wait!"

Otto raced along the shallows below. His short teal mantle slapped against his side as he pointed toward a low tangle of roots.

"There is a burrow under that bank," he called. "The water will reach it before it reaches the fire."

Riverwing held the wave in place. It pulled heavily against her wings.

"The reeds are already burning."

"And four little ones are under them."

Four trails of tiny tracks led into the roots. Small brown noses appeared in the dark openings, then vanished when sparks landed across the mud outside.

Riverwing looked from the fire to the burrow. One hard sweep would crush the nearest flames.

But the wave would strike the bank before it reached the fire. It would fill the roots around the mice and wash through the burrow.

With a low rush, she let the wave settle back into the river.

For one breath, her wings sagged. Holding that much water had already pulled at her strength.

"Clear them a way out," she said. "I will keep the fire off it."

Otto hurried to the roots. He rolled two loose stones aside and pulled a fallen branch from the narrow strip of mud leading to the shallows.

Riverwing dipped one wing into the river.

This time, she did not pull up a wall.

She drew a thin veil of water into the air. Cool mist drifted over the burrow mouths and the path Otto was clearing. Sparks struck the wet mud and went dark.

The first mouse crept from the roots.

Otto stayed low and still. "This way."

The mouse ran past him into the shallows. A second followed, then a third.

Riverwing kept the mist between the burrow and the fire. With her other wing, she guided a narrow stream across the ground. It soaked a line of reeds before the flames could cross toward the roots.

The fourth mouse darted out and splashed after the others.

"Four," Otto called. "All clear."

Only then did Riverwing turn her full strength toward the fire.

She aimed one small, hard burst at the base of the flames. A second swept across the burning edge. Then she spread a fine rain through the smoking stalks until no ember answered the wind.

Steam rolled across the bank.

Riverwing landed in the shallows. Her water feathers held their shape, but their glow had dimmed. She lowered her wings and breathed while the river curled around her taloned feet.

Otto checked the burrow mouths and the wet line. Riverwing tested the blackened reeds with one last mist.

Nothing smoked. Nothing moved beneath the ash.

The four mice huddled beneath green leaves beside the shallows, wet but safe.

Only then did Riverwing look downstream for the blue stone she had dropped.

It had caught in a quiet pool between two rocks. She lifted it from the water and turned it once between her talons.

"Worth waiting for?" Otto asked.

Riverwing looked at the safe burrow, the wet reeds, and the four small shapes beneath the leaves.

"Yes," she said. "The stone could wait. They could not."

The river carried the last thin ribbon of smoke away.

Riverwing tucked the blue stone safely against her feathers and rose above the reeds. She watched where the wind might carry the next spark.

How much water she could lift no longer seemed like the most important thing to know.