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my mind drifted back to the time a few years back at the annual Shadow festival when Bianca had given Penelope a purple stone carved in the shape of horse, Penelope’s favorite animal. She even had one that lived at the shelter. Mr. Oats was a twenty-year old gelding that was starting to get arthritis in his hocks, so Pen could only ride him a couple of times around the yard before he’d start whinnying in protest. He'd been abandoned in the middle of town square after he'd pooped a giant pile of manure in his owner's flower bed.
    I often wondered if there was something about that horse-shaped stone that had to do with the siphoning off of Pen’s powers. Like the rock was cursed itself or its curse transferred to all who held it. If that was the case, someone would know about it and those that could fly so they had a bird’s eye view were my best bet.
    Sage settled himself on the back of a park bench, careful not to sit near any bird poop. Even though his shit was as white as the rest of his brethren, he still felt he was classier than they were. No one seemed to argue with him on that score and that suited me just fine. Sage was an elder as well as an old friend, and I respected him for that reason alone. He actually did have the wisdom and grace his kind were known for.
    As soon as Sage arrived, a myriad of other birds flew into his vicinity and remained still. The birds waited patiently for Sage to reveal the reason why he’d come tonight. A crow, named Coal, let out a shriek and pecked his beak in to the ground near the bench. He brought a fat earthworm up from the ground and slurped it down his throat in one gulp.
    “Sage, my old friend,” Coal said. “What brings you to the park tonight? Anything we can help with?”
    “It’s good to see you, Coal,” Sage replied. “I’m wondering if any of you have any information on Bianca Chokecherry or her family.”
    Coal peered behind him and gave a questioning look to the twenty or so birds that had gathered there. One stepped forward to talk. A vibrant, yellow finch, named Tweety. I’d heard that kid before, performing at the local bird Karaoke. She had the most glorious voice. Too bad I’d rather kill and eat her than listen to her. Thank God Sage was here to stop me from indulging in my natural instincts.
    “Master Sage,” she said as she flew to sit underneath Sage on the bench, giving him the reverence that his position dictated. “I saw something that might be of interest when I was taking voice lessons in her eucalyptus.”
    “Do go on, Tweety,” Sage replied.
    His voice remained calm but inside he seethed.
    Slapper.
    Apparently, Sage had seen her the last time she’d flown off with Grip for a little avian hanky-panky. Sage liked to judge. Of course, it did keep him above it all which kept him in charge and that was how he liked it.
    “Master Sage,” Tweety continued as she flapped her tiny wings for effect. She seemed truly frightened. “Bianca is a very bad witch. She’s mean. Evil. I saw her dancing in a circle in the woods with her family. They had on black capes with hoods. She hates Miss Penelope.”
    “I see,” Sage replied. “Did you hear anything they were saying?”
    The old owl’s mind raced as he tried to come up with any information about Pen’s curse. He’d been in this area for so many years, he knew all of the families with powers. The Chokecherry clan had been tormenting people, witch and non-witch, for centuries as well as spreading their unique brand of black magic everywhere they went. Many had tried to irradicate them from Shadowkeep. Everyone that had tried had failed.
    “They were chanting. I couldn’t understand them, Master Sage,” Tweety continued. “It didn’t make any sense to me.”
    “Thank you, Tweety. You’ve done well.”
    Sage left the bench and soared high in to the sky toward home. I’d been dismissed. At least he hadn’t left me with his usual goodbye.
    Bloody chancer.
    I still had about a mile to