Novek woke up instantly at the sound of metal clattering against stone and found himself curled atop the cabin of the coach. He looked around for — ah, Siya was still asleep, curled up next to him. Ah, crap — he'd fallen asleep on watch.

  Nat's voice came in a whispered exclamation from within the horseshoe curve of the stones the coach was pressed up against. “Hey! Be careful — you're lucky there was a lid on that — it's very hot. Though, maybe not to you, if you were happy standing on the heating stone?”

  Moira's voice sounded quietly in Novek's ear, You were tired, and I kept an eye out. I'd have woken you for anything I couldn't handle myself.

  That was true, but he was embarrassed — falling asleep on watch was a rookie thing, usually when someone didn't want to let someone else know how tired they were. He was long past that stage of his life, of course. Novek was sure there was a reasonable explanation, he'd just need to spend a few minutes thinking one up.

  He did mutter beneath his breath, however, “Thanks, Moira.”

  Think nothing of it.

  Looking down over the side of the coach, he did wonder what new inexplicable situation they'd found themselves in again this morning. Nat and Lyn were pouring… tea… for… birds?

  Lyn turned to look up at him as he peered over the side — more a courtesy, they'd told him, since silverpaw eyes saw almost omnidirectionally. Voices that had been muted, presumably to be polite were raised to normal conversational levels. “Come join us, Novek. Your choice, hot herbal tea or — I can't read this writing — pear cider? Since we're short on cooking gear, we're also going to make some hot cakes on the cooking stone. Think you could put that Talent to use to scrub it so we're not eating grit?”

  “Oh, sure. Just give me a minute for a brief conversation with nature.”

  He hopped down, greeted nature in the usual way, and then returned to watch Nat offering a selection of berries and small fruits in cups to the black and white puffballs. There seemed to be some sort of voting going on?

  “Okay Lyn, that's two blueberry hotcakes, one ressenberry, and the last one can't make up their mind.”

  Oh, they were taking orders. Of course. Right then. Perfectly normal thing to be doing the morning after a run for their lives.

  Novek spent a moment looking for a wire brush, and brought it over to the cooking stone. “Lift it up a moment, and I'll pour some hot water on it and give it a quick once over.”

  Lyn reached over, grabbed hold of the hot stone and tilted it to one side — no matter how old he got, Novek was never going to get used to that sort of display — and he poured a small amount of water from the hot kettle on the stone and gave it a solid minute of scrubbing to get any remaining grit off. A quick rinse, and he was done. “All set, thanks Lyn.”

  They put the larger flat stone back in place on the small ring of stones that could have held a fire, if Moira hadn't been cheating to avoid making a visible pillar of smoke pointing right at them. A moment later and they were pouring a small amount of batter, making tiny griddle cakes with berries in them.

  That looked great, actually. “I'll take a blueberry, if you're still taking orders — otherwise anything is fine.”

  “Sure, Novek. Can you ask Ellie if she has a preference? She's still asleep in the coach, I think.”

  “Not hardly with this racket,” came her voice from inside the cabin. “I'll take plain, please — wait, no, with butter and cheese. I'll be out just as soon as I convince myself it's worth getting up today.”

  Nat offered, “The horses would be sad if you didn't.”

  Ellie responded in a muffled deadpan, “The truth of that statement somehow does not reduce how much I hate you right at this moment. What time is it?”

  Lyn looked up from their batter pouring, “A little over half hour to dawn. I'll still want to move away from the group for it, though a few minutes should be fine.”

  “You know what? Make mine last. I need another fifteen minutes.”

  Grinning knowingly, Lyn responded, “Sure thing, Ellie.”

  Novek eyed the birds, “Are we concerned about them if things go wrong or whatever this morning?”

  “Clackaw are completely harmless in that regard. It might help keep them calm to be sitting — the worst that might happen is that they'll spook.”

  Nat tilted his head up, away from the lap full of fluffy clacking noisemakers. “Lyn? You called them Clackaw, is that their Ber name? It sounds like a Human one.”

  “It isn't, no. Their species is called Sirp'Terry. But here, listen.” Lyn snapped their teeth together sharply and made an ‘aww’ sound with an upward rising tone that sounded inquisitive to Novek.

  In response, the fuzzy bird-like Ber started clapping their beaks together and mimicking the sound. It sounded like two small rocks being smacked together followed by an ‘ow’ sound to Novek, but he could see where the name came from.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  As they finished their response to Lyn, the avians began looking back and forth among themselves, ruffling their feathers. As they did so, the feathers would change from black to white. Novek got the impression they were debating.

  Novek looked to Lyn, “Do you understand what they're saying?”

  “I'm not sure that the clacking is true language — not that it's not communication, but it may not be quite as definitive. These are just Ber — though they're smarter than the average Ber, so don't underestimate them. What they are is incredible mimics. If they so chose, they could repeat everything they've heard this morning, down to background noises. So, I suppose that's fair warning to not say anything you wouldn't want someone else to hear a year from now, half a world away.”

  His fur stood up slightly at that. “Oh, well that's good to know.”

  “Now, the feather ruffling they're doing? That's language — it's far too precise at a glance to be anything but. But it's not Tradish, and no, I don't know it.”

  Nat looked up from the congregation in his lap, “Okay, hold on — they're talking? You said they were Ber.”

  “Not all Ber are equal in intelligence, nor in developmental pace. Clackaw are among the many thousands of species that mature quickly enough that the Ber process only stunts their intelligence, not precludes it entirely. Like Silverpaw, Clackaw are cognizant from birth.”

  Lyn turned to the Clackaw, with a serious look on their face. “Now, don't any of you repeat this conversation. While the progenitors may be absent at present, that does not mean they won't return.”

  The group of five all turned and considered Lyn for a split second, then resumed clacking and ruffling among themselves.

  Novek turned glance at Lyn's face for a hint as to whether they were being serious right now or was that a joke? Did the birds understand them? Why was that, of all things to say, something they worried about?

  Without noticing — or at least acknowledging Novek's gaze, Lyn continued, “These are adolescent males — they'd be about twice that large once fully grown. Females are larger, and their parent larger still. They'll likely take whatever we make for them back to her — they'll eat, but they'll store it in a gizzard until they fly back up to their broodmother, who will then digest what they bring, and then feed the entire wing. The sweet tea is the exception to that — that they can use immediately. We're cooking for an extended family, basically.”

  Nat was speaking about half again faster than usual, “This is the best morning ever. Would you all like some more tea?”

  The word tea was immediately taken up in a chorus of mimicry with two of the birds hopping up on the hot cooking stone to stare at the kettle. Another flew over to Novek, and latched on to his neck ruff, where it hung there, swinging gently.

  Nat looked slightly crestfallen at the loss of multiple fluffy companions. “I'm guessing they know what tea means.” This started yet another chorus of the word as he refilled two cups — one of the herbal tea, and the other a dilute cider. The five clackaw flocked to the two cups and took turns, somewhat impatiently, sipping and throwing their heads upwards as they swallowed.

  Lyn gave Nat a look, “They're fast learners. If they didn't before — they do know. However, Nat — I am cooking here. Could you pour the drinks to the side, please? Also, their cakes are done. Ours will be another minute. Also, if we could keep the tiny feet out of the batter, that would be optimal, thanks.”

  Immediately Nat began looking for a second small rock to use as a table for the tea. Novek handed him one of the spare planks he'd been thinking would work as a plate of his own.

  “Oh, perfect.” Grabbing the tea and tiny cakes off the stone, he placed them on his board and announced to the birds, “Okay guys, breakfast is served!”

  Novek sat down on the sideboard of the coach to await his own hot cakes. “I'll try the cider please, when you have a moment, Nat.”

  Ellie slowly opened the window above him — he ducked his head to avoid getting bumped — and she leaned out. “Tea for me, please. Unless we have coffee.”

  Nat brought Ellie and Novek their drinks, answering the half-question as he did, “Nope, the coffee was all left at the other camp.”

  Holding her tea, Ellie put on a playful tone that didn't entirely hide the actual anger beneath it. “Oh, that insult shall not be allowed to stand. Novek? It is your solemn duty to avenge our lack of coffee at your earliest opportunity.”

  “Can I do it after we get coffee?”

  “I will consider it — Yes. Coffee first. Then revenge.”

  “Good choice. That does bring up a point, though. We need to re-stock a number of supplies and there's an outpost just west of here. So two questions — should we all pack up and go, and perhaps keep going a bit further out? Or should Ellie perhaps take the cart for a supply run while we stay here — in case someone's there, looking for us? After that, Ellie, it's up to you if you stay or go.”

  “I appreciate you giving me the chance to run away and avoid further entanglements. My vote is that I do a solo run — as I said before, it's easier for me to change clothes and maybe the drapes on the coach, and I'll leave the horses in their blankets, in case someone has a poor description.”

  Lyn stood and handed a board with Novek and Ellie's cakes on it up to him. “I think that's the safest approach for everyone.”

  Nat sat quietly for a moment while awaiting his own board of berry-filled cakes. “I don't honestly have an opinion here. Whatever you all think is best. Also, can I get some of the smaller cakes for Siya? Actually, no, wait — full sized — I have no idea what I was thinking there for a moment.”

  The Clackaw, for their part, were finishing their hot cakes and one at a time all hopped back onto Nat's lap and shoulders.

  “The birds have spoken. Apparently I'm staying put.”

  Lyn started to tuck into their own breakfast, “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but they're not going to be here for long, Nat. They only overnight briefly — broodmothers never stop flying, so they'll have to catch up soon. They're just here to forage — which I think they've done about as well as is possible.”

  Nat made a ‘tsk’ noise with his tongue, followed by a disappointed “Aww.” The clackaw resumed making their namesake sound in response.

  Novek heard Ellie sigh, and imagined her rolling her eyes behind him before she followed up. “Okay. I'll do a solo run — after dawn. Also, Lyn — could we maybe do something better for my arm? This was great for something fast, but I need it to hold up to riding and maybe some light loading of the coach.”

  “I can rig up a proper splint for you, something adjustable, in just a few minutes — Lyn, can you show me exactly how you'd want it — I've only done battlefield splints.”

  “Sure, to both. I can also accelerate the healing for you with a little hands-on time. It's especially important early on in the healing process for a break.”

  Oh, wait. Hey, Lyn? I can set up a larger pattern — so that you don't need to sit with Ellie the whole time. If you can infuse the bone, for me, I can see it and help align things properly.

  With a mouthful of food, Lyn responded, gesturing with their fork still in hand. “That sounds great — just after dawn though. Everyone finish eating — not that I expect anything this morning, but better safe than sorry.”