Page 125 of Tiger's Quest
“Love makes you do crazy things sometimes.”
“What about you? What did you see?”
“I sort of got my brain Hoovered.”
“What does ‘Hoovered’ mean?”
“A Hoover is a vacuum. My thoughts are clear, like your memories are clear. In fact, I now know how to get the Scarf and what comes next. But first things first.”
I jumped up and lifted the nest tucked into the corner of the tree house. The two birds hopped up and down, squawking in irritation. They flew over to me and flapped their wings in my face.
“I’m sorry, but it’s your own fault, you know. You’re the ones who cleared my mind. Besides, these belong to us. We need them.”
I took the camera, my bracelet, and the amulet out of the nest. Kishan helped me attach the bracelet and the amulet chain and tucked the camera in the bag. The birds looked at me sulkily.
“Maybe we can give you something else instead as compensation for losing your prizes,” I said.
Kishan hunted up a fishhook, a Glowstick, and a compass and placed them in the nest. After I put the nest back, the birds flew up to inspect their new treasures.
“Thank you both! Come on, Kishan. Follow me.”
21
The Divine Weaver’s Scarf
After retrieving our treasures from the nest, I headed toward a simple rope that hung from the wood ceiling. When I pulled it, a rattling noise came from above the tree house and a panel opened. A ladder descended and struck the floor.
I explained to Kishan, “The next part will be the hardest. This ladder leads to the outside branches, which we have to climb until we hit the top where there’s a giant bird’s nest. The Scarf will be there, but so will the iron birds.”
“Iron birds?”
“Yes, and we’ll have to fight them to take the Scarf. Wait a second.” I rifled quickly through Mr. Kadam’s research and found what I was looking for. “Here. This is what we’re fighting.”
The picture of the mythological Stymphalian bird was frightening enough without the description he’d included.
Kishan read, “Terrible flesh-eating birds with iron beaks, bronze claws, and toxic droppings. They usually live in large colonies.”
“Swell, aren’t they?”
“Keep close to me, Kells. We can’t be sure that you heal here.”
“For that matter, we can’t be sure you heal here, either,” I grinned, “but I’ll try not to leave you alone too long.”
“Funny. After you.”
We climbed the ladder and found ourselves in a cluster of branches set tightly enough together that they reminded me of a children’s jungle gym. It was easy enough to climb if I didn’t think about falling. Kishan insisted that I climb first so he could catch me if I slipped, which only happened once. My foot slipped on some wet wood, and Kishan caught it, shoe and all, in his palm and pushed me upward again.
After a good climb, we rested on a branch with our backs against the trunk, Kishan lower, me higher. He tossed me a canteen of sugar-free lemonade, which I accepted gratefully. As I drained it in long gulps, I noticed some damage on the limb I was seated on.
“Kishan, take a look at this.”
A thick, gummy, chartreuse paste was splattered on the end of my branch and had apparently eaten through half of it.
“I think we’re looking at the toxic droppings,” I remarked wryly.
Kishan wrinkled his nose. “And this is old, maybe as long as two weeks ago. The smell is nasty. It’s sharp and bitter.” He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “It’s burning my nostrils.”
“I guess we’ll have to watch out for toxic bombs, huh?”
