When evening came, a party of birds-robins, blue jays, cardinals, and theater members-appeared in the sky above Fortress Glooming.
“Free the slavebirds! Free the slavebirds!” they chanted, waving their weapons in rhythm.
Hearing this, the soldiers who had been left in Fortress Glooming became frightened and uncertain. Turnatt must’ve lost the battle, they reasoned, or else how can the woodbirds come here?
“If Lord Turnatt is dead, then what’s the purpose of staying here? Waiting for death? I’d rather flee!” one of the soldiers cried.
Still uncertain of Turnatt’s fate, the remaining crows and ravens flew over the fortress walls and toward the mountains.
When the woodbirds landed on the fortress’s ground, they heard voices. “Over here! Over here!” the slavebirds yelled from the compound.
The woodbirds pried open the compound door and rushed inside. There was much hugging and crying. When Reymarsh saw the slavebirds he called to his tribesbirds, “Quick, remove their chains!”
While their bonds were being cut off, the slavebirds couldn’t help wincing and crying out in pain. The pieces of metal had worn into their flesh, almost embedded in their skin. But they were so glad.
The slavebirds were free; they were slavebirds no longer. During their celebration they seemed to remember something. “Come with us!” they said, and led the woodbirds to a hut outside. The woodbirds broke into the hut and went inside to inspect. The food before their eyes shocked them.
“Aren’t these apples, pine seeds, raisins, and roots ours?” Fleet-tail gasped.
“These walnuts, honey, mushrooms, and raspberries are from my tribe!” said Brontë in anger.
“These are the eggs stolen from the blue jays!” Cody exclaimed.
“Look, those are our cardinals’ eggs! We should carry them back. Maybe they’ll still hatch,” said a cardinal.
All the birds moved the food to the fortress meeting hall, preparing for a feast.
The crystal chandelier in the hall was beautiful when they lit the candles on it. When the birds of the Willowleaf Theater began to play music, everybird started to dance and sway. Their hearts fluttered with the notes. In the air and on the ground the birds danced gracefully, finally at peace.
On one side of the dance floor, Skylion, Flame-back, Glenagh, Reymarsh, Dilby, and Tilosses stood together, talking.
“My tribesbirds and I are leaving tomorrow,” Reymarsh said.
“So soon?” Flame-back was surprised. “Why, you can rest a day or two in Stone-Run.”
“No, when I left, I was in a hurry. There are still many things that need to be settled,” Reymarsh replied firmly.
“We are traveling south too,” Dilby cut in. “Our theater balloon has just been fixed, so we can journey together.”
Glenagh looked worried. “What about the freed slavebirds? They can’t fly so soon.”
Dilby smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Some of them can travel in our hot-air balloon.”
“Besides, the slavebirds who are unable to fly can stay in Stone-Run to rest and heal their wounds,” Flame-back offered. “They can leave whenever they want to, or they can settle here.”
Skylion nodded in agreement. “Right. Stone-Run’s a big place; there’s room for everybird.”
“Thank you all for your help and generosity. Our debt for your saving our lives can never be paid,” Tilosses exclaimed.
The other five smiled at him. “Let’s thank Swordbird,” Glenagh said, gesturing with both wings to the sky.
Early the next dawn, when the morning glow dyed Stone-Run Forest red, the theater balloon had already started to rise up into the air. In the basket there were also freed slavebirds beside the theater members. Reymarsh and his robins flew on either side of the balloon.
There were calls of good-bye both from above and below.
A new day began in Stone-Run.