Below, on the dry autumn grass, Chains was once again fighting those people stuck in thorns.To the birds flying above, those in the thorns did not smell rotten, he said, but they looked dead. Hovering over the clearing bordered by a sparse forest, he felt that something was missing, so out of curiosity he swooped down and sat on one's arm. There was a tuft of straw sticking out from under his ragged sleeve, which he nibbled foolishly until he realized they were too strong.They were scary.He shook and writhed. It was not the first time that the surroundings were not what they seemed to be.His head tilted in confusion. At the base of the scarecrow was a wizened man with a short gray beard and a black fez pulled over his eyebrows. Ah, yes. It's Chains, the bird reminded himself. All he knew how to do was jump around when the crucifixes came to life. He spoke to them calmly and fought until a white, human-shaped creature came out of them. Lanturi then sent them to Pana, to fly high above everything and make him one with the clouds. Thus, the white veil - soul, body - was disappearing, and the crucified were diminishing.That time, however, there was no white streamer to lead to the sky.From the hand of the scarecrow he had landed on, Pană flipped until Lanțuri saw him. He couldn't chirp, because only that damned curse had tied his beak.Chains nodded and took her to the house in the back yard. He still dragged the rusted iron rings after him, for thus he had been cursed. He entered the house, took out a blanket from under the sofa and came out. He left Pană alone on the windowsill, with the door closed.The shack was ugly and dark. The air inside the room was like brown, and behind the bird, where the sun was coming from, the brown turned yellow. The feather flew to the table to swallow a crumb, and rushed to the beetle that fell from the ceiling right before his eyes. He grabbed it without looking twice, crushing it into his fist. Good luck, less often!Chains' steps startled him. He was back in the doorway. In one scarred hand he held a cup of water. He held out his other hand in front of him. The feather landed on his fingertips, and as soon as he touched it, each flake was heavier and his beak stronger. He felt how his eyes wanted to pop out of their sockets, as if they were going to get closer to each other, how his head was throbbing, how he could no longer fit in his skin with pain. The next moment, he fell with a deformed body, writhing and squealing. When the regained chirps turned to whimpers, and the whimpers, to full blown howls, Chains grabbed the blanket from the couch and threw it over the man's bare body.For a while, he left Pană stuck to the cold floor, then he helped him to the couch. One by one, the boy moved his fingers and toes. His body was starting to heat up. That damn hair was getting into his eyes. The surrounding colors were more gaudy. The snow inside the blanket, however, seemed strangely welcome. With the feathers on him, he wouldn't have needed such a thing. He didn't understand his human skin. When a bone cracked, he hissed: he had forgotten that this was even happening. He gritted his teeth, shuddered. He had forgotten how much he hated teeth.- I can't deal with your cockroaches anymore, Pana spat after all the silence.- I don't have others of the same kind, said Lanțuri and pulled up a chair. But I didn't shove them down your throat. When you're a bird, be content with what brains you have.- With nothing, that is, muttered Pana.The sounds came out of his mouth distorted. His r was muffled, and on other consonants he shot up. They were panting. He peed on them. That disjointed chirp, as melodious as a crunch of stones, brought a sigh from Chains. Hearing him, Pana opened his eyes, scared. In them lay a color that anyone would marvel at, a clear chestnut, like two lakes of amber, sheltered by eyebrows like bridges.A bitter taste unfolded on his tongue. He asked for a half-poured cup of water, and Chains gave it to him, kicking the dust into the air in the warm, baked twilight light.- What happened to today? Have you no more souls to save?His tone was sharp, thick with sloppiness.- I was waiting for you... Precisely for this reason, said Lanțuri, caught off guard. I haven't received any new scarecrows since you left for the treetops, for winter...– From the spring and summer floors, nothing?!- Yes. There was no news from anyone. I shut up again, we are alone.
