Read Online The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly by Sun-mi Hwang - Free Book Online
Authors: Sun-mi Hwang
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Greentop, after his coloring. But she still liked to call him Baby, as that made her feel closer to him.
When the rains passed, Sprout finally fought off the cold that had plagued her. But it seemed unlikely that her scrawny body would ever be plump again. She was getting old. Of course she was: her baby was almost fully grown! Yet she was stronger than ever. Her calm eyes could detect the slightest movement in the darkness, her beak was hard, and her claws were sharp. Sprout and Greentop never spent more than two nights in one spot. Sometimes, from a distance, they saw the weasel returning home empty-jawed. Life as a wanderer was difficult, but it wasnât too bad. It did break Sproutâs heart to see Greentop with a brooding expression on his face. He had become moody from time to time after the leader had visited them in the reeds. These episodes recurred more frequently after his feathers changed color. Sprout asked him what was wrong, but he wouldnât confide in her.
There wouldnât be rain again for a while. The stars twinkled at twilight, and Sproutâs feathers remained dry overnight. With the nicer weather, Sprout and Greentop could find a place to sleep close to the water, but Sprout led Greentop up the slope to stay away from the weasel. She checked under the rock at the edge of the hill. They had slept in that small cave a few times during the rains, but Greentop didnât like it there because it was far from the reservoir.
âWe havenât seen the hunter in two days. Iâm sure weâll see him today. I bet heâll go around the reed fields to try to get at least a warbler,â Sprout said, but Greentop wasnât listening. Deep in thought again, he was standing in a field of white daisy fleabane and looking down at the reservoir. He was just like his father. Sprout curled up in the cave and watched Greentop. He was no longer a baby. Even when she imagined talking to the mallard about what was going on with Greentop, she couldnât come up with a good solution. She was afraid the weasel would snatch Greentop like he did Straggler. It was dangerous when you let down your guard. She decided to call Greentop inside. Stepping out of the cave, she glimpsed a dark shadow slip down from a rock. It sounded like the wind but wasnât.
Sprout stopped breathing. It was the weasel.
How had she made this mistake? She had chosen the wrong spot. Until now they had managed to avoid the weasel, but he was one step ahead of them. Greentop wasnât paying any attention. Sprout had to take charge of the situation. She was his mother; she couldnât let this happen. Drawing in a deep breath, she sprinted out of the cave like lightning, clucking and flapping her wings, shouting, âGet lost!â
The weasel spun around. Greentop, taken by surprise, flapped his wings and screamed. Flustered, the weasel looked back at Greentop before turning to face Sprout. He looked bigger and swifter than before, but Sprout knew she couldnât back down. Greentop kept flapping his wings in fright. Sprout tensed her claws and raised all her feathers on end. Her eyes met the weaselâs. âDonât you dare!â she threatened, prepared to die.
The weasel slowly shook his head, his eyes still trained on her. âDonât you interfere!â His voice gave Sprout the chills. The weasel wanted only Greentop, and so he wasnât wary of her.
Sprout glared at the weasel. âLeave my baby alone!â
The weasel laughed derisively. Sprout felt her heart pound and her entire body inflame with rage. She was no longer frightened by the weaselâs stare. As the weasel was about to turn away, Sprout sprinted toward him like a moth darting toward a flame. She pecked viciously. The weasel screamed and sprang toward Greentop. Sprout, her beak firmly clamped on the weasel, was dragged along. She could hear Greentop making a racket. Sprout and the weasel became one and rolled down
When the rains passed, Sprout finally fought off the cold that had plagued her. But it seemed unlikely that her scrawny body would ever be plump again. She was getting old. Of course she was: her baby was almost fully grown! Yet she was stronger than ever. Her calm eyes could detect the slightest movement in the darkness, her beak was hard, and her claws were sharp. Sprout and Greentop never spent more than two nights in one spot. Sometimes, from a distance, they saw the weasel returning home empty-jawed. Life as a wanderer was difficult, but it wasnât too bad. It did break Sproutâs heart to see Greentop with a brooding expression on his face. He had become moody from time to time after the leader had visited them in the reeds. These episodes recurred more frequently after his feathers changed color. Sprout asked him what was wrong, but he wouldnât confide in her.
There wouldnât be rain again for a while. The stars twinkled at twilight, and Sproutâs feathers remained dry overnight. With the nicer weather, Sprout and Greentop could find a place to sleep close to the water, but Sprout led Greentop up the slope to stay away from the weasel. She checked under the rock at the edge of the hill. They had slept in that small cave a few times during the rains, but Greentop didnât like it there because it was far from the reservoir.
âWe havenât seen the hunter in two days. Iâm sure weâll see him today. I bet heâll go around the reed fields to try to get at least a warbler,â Sprout said, but Greentop wasnât listening. Deep in thought again, he was standing in a field of white daisy fleabane and looking down at the reservoir. He was just like his father. Sprout curled up in the cave and watched Greentop. He was no longer a baby. Even when she imagined talking to the mallard about what was going on with Greentop, she couldnât come up with a good solution. She was afraid the weasel would snatch Greentop like he did Straggler. It was dangerous when you let down your guard. She decided to call Greentop inside. Stepping out of the cave, she glimpsed a dark shadow slip down from a rock. It sounded like the wind but wasnât.
Sprout stopped breathing. It was the weasel.
How had she made this mistake? She had chosen the wrong spot. Until now they had managed to avoid the weasel, but he was one step ahead of them. Greentop wasnât paying any attention. Sprout had to take charge of the situation. She was his mother; she couldnât let this happen. Drawing in a deep breath, she sprinted out of the cave like lightning, clucking and flapping her wings, shouting, âGet lost!â
The weasel spun around. Greentop, taken by surprise, flapped his wings and screamed. Flustered, the weasel looked back at Greentop before turning to face Sprout. He looked bigger and swifter than before, but Sprout knew she couldnât back down. Greentop kept flapping his wings in fright. Sprout tensed her claws and raised all her feathers on end. Her eyes met the weaselâs. âDonât you dare!â she threatened, prepared to die.
The weasel slowly shook his head, his eyes still trained on her. âDonât you interfere!â His voice gave Sprout the chills. The weasel wanted only Greentop, and so he wasnât wary of her.
Sprout glared at the weasel. âLeave my baby alone!â
The weasel laughed derisively. Sprout felt her heart pound and her entire body inflame with rage. She was no longer frightened by the weaselâs stare. As the weasel was about to turn away, Sprout sprinted toward him like a moth darting toward a flame. She pecked viciously. The weasel screamed and sprang toward Greentop. Sprout, her beak firmly clamped on the weasel, was dragged along. She could hear Greentop making a racket. Sprout and the weasel became one and rolled down
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