The Sacrifice of Magpies

Wítü stared out at the strange beings. They flew down the slope with speeds that easily exceeded his top speed. Although he could see that a few of the creatures meandered down the hill, making wide sweeping motions.
         I’ll never understand them, he thought. Leaping off the branch, he fell toward the huge swath through the forests that the creatures had created—seemingly for the sole purpose of sliding down the hill. He savored the moment of free-fall for a few moments, then opened his wings and swooped upward. Within a few powerful beats of his wings, he was above the trees.
         Wítü banked a hard right, aiming toward the south, heading back home. His white-black wings caught the wind well, but weren’t built for soaring. Wítü hated that. He wanted to soar like the eagles that flew around here.
         Speaking of eagles... he thought. He looked around for any sign of the predatory birds. There were only a few of them in the area, but they were vicious. Back home, during the summer, there were dozens of magpies around the area. They could protect themselves by actually fighting. In numbers, they could fight off an eagle.
         Alone, the only option was to run.
         The lonely magpie aimed downward and dipped toward the trees. He noticed the broad swaths in the forest behind him, with the odd little contraptions made of metal trees connected by flimsy branches. Little box-things ran up and down these lines. Many philosophers had speculated what these contraptions were used for. Not much progress had been made in dealing with the humans.
         In fact, they did many things that made no sense. They built things that served no practical purpose. Many of their large buildings were mysterious in nature. A few of the more studious scientists had determined that many of the buildings outlaying the local human city were the equivalent to nests.
         But this also made the magpies confused. Their nests were way too big for their bodies. In reality, the only thing needed in a nest was space to sleep and something to keep the elements off. These human nests were far more elaborate.
         Wítü sneaked a glance to the top of the mountains to his right. He had constantly dreamed of flying over the top of the mountains, taking the shortcut from the strange swaths to the outskirts of the city. But there were strict warnings about that in his clan. The eagles and other predatory birds patrolled those heights, looking down to catch morsels like himself.
         He shouldn’t even be out this far. It was winter, and cold. Food was scarce. His clan had dispersed from their usual location at the eastern end of the huge valley to the north. He banked slightly right, keeping near the tree line. This path gave him the quickest route with safety. He was high enough to be able to skirt the bases of the mountains, but close enough to forests that he could dive if necessary.
         A cry was heard to his left. It was the screech of an eagle. His blood ran cold, but judging by its distance, it was too far away to be a danger. But he wondered what the eagle saw. The birds had all moved to the other side of the mountains because that area got the most sun and, thus, the least snow.
         No bird should be on this side.
         …and yet, he was over here. He wouldn’t blame the other magpies if nobody came to his aid if he was attacked. He shouldn’t be over here. There was no food, or anything. Only the odd snowy swaths.
         Another sound reached his ears. It was that of a magpie’s cry. And not just any magpie’s.
         It was his wife.
         The shock of such a cry paralyzed Wítü. He dropped from the sky, slipping passed the upper branches of the pine trees.
         If it was me, nobody would help. His own thought rang through his mind, and he knew the truth of it. Nobody will help.
         He got control of his wings again.
         She needs life.
         Nobody will help.
         He banked left, darting through the trees toward the sounds of an air battle. It wouldn’t last long. One eagle against one magpie wasn’t a challenge: it was a call to diner.
         And he knew that two magpies would merely mean a feast for the larger bird. He himself couldn’t alter the circumstances. Alone, he wouldn’t change anything.
         But by the time he went for help, it would be too late.
         There was nothing he could do.
         He banked right, resuming his original course. His heart ached against his soul. Save her it screamed.
         But I can’t do anything!
         She’s your wife
         But I can’t do anything!
         In the end, it was the pain in his chest that made him bank and flap for all he was worth. Love was love, and nothing could tear them apart.
         He was led on by the sounds of battle. It sounded like he was running out of time. It seemed to take years to cross the few miles, when it probably wasn’t nearly that long. And then he shot up from the trees, his pitifully clawed feet poised, his beak snapping in anticipation to try and give his wife’s harmer a piece of him.
         The eagle will probably get all of me he thought.
         Claws collided with feathery flesh. The eagle, preoccupied with only one target, was now surprised at this new attack. It screeched as Wítü pulled away, narrowly avoiding getting beaten blue by the bird’s wings.
         Amazingly, Wítü’s beaten wife stayed with the fight. Wítü called for her to run away, but she just wouldn’t. Even two beaten birds stood a better chance against an eagle than one healthy one.
         Wítü felt a narrow miss of the eagle’s talons against his left wing. He spun around and attacked the large bird’s head. He bit into the flesh, his beak poorly designed for this and only giving the bird a pinch.
         With a roar, the predator shook Wítü off, the magpie falling to the ground. He managed to catch himself, and started spiraling back upward to attack from above. Another form suddenly appeared from the trees, rocketing upward to join the battle.
         Oh, no! Another eagle!
         But this form was black and white. It was another magpie, come to help them. Another friend.
         While he was distracted with such thoughts, he heard his wife scream again. He wheeled around quickly and attacked again, just before the eagle killed her. The eagle wasn’t surprised anymore. It spun around, one of its wings slapping Wítü out of the air. The world turned into a blur of sky and trees as he spun toward the ground. His wings flapped in vain to get a grip on the air again.
         He could feel it was going to happen before it did. He knew that the eagle couldn’t pass up such a target. He felt the razor-sharp claws dig into his back, pulling him painfully from the air and throwing him backward. His world turned gray, his wings no longer working.
         He knew he was going to die.
         He tumbled through the air, catching snapshots of the scene above him. The eagle was now battling two new magpies, his beaten wife was attempting a controlled fall to the ground.
         He started falling through the trees. He heard his fellows shouting around him, saying things that he couldn’t understand. Everything seemed to be happening in slow-motion. His whole life was flashing before his eyes. He thought about all the questions they had about the strange, bipedal creatures called humans.
         He realized that they slid down the hills for the same reason the magpies chased one another: it was fun. Despite all of the practicalities of life, all animals needed to have fun once in a while.
         He hit the ground, his body battered and broken. One wing was bent at an angle. There was no pain, though. His whole body had gone numb. Two others landed beside him. “Keep her safe,” he said.
         The presence of two magpies told him that others had arrived—enough to fend off the eagle. He knew he was going to die, but his death had provided all of those others enough time to help.
         ”Why did you come,” he asked.
         ”Well,” said one, her voice trailing off into the distance that Wítü felt growing between his consciousness and his body, “normally a single bird can’t help. But I figured I’d try. It turns out that if each small bird tries all they can, together, they can accomplish great things.”