The final story in the Chosen saga, where an
elderly moa hen strives to spare as much native birdlife as she can
from the inescapable doom about to befall Prehistoric New Zealand.
to the Fore...
She eyed the owl
hesitantly, wondering if that knowledge was gleaned from his
soothsaying or a head’s up from Addy. In the end it mattered little and
she eagerly awaited his pronouncement.
“A great darkness will indeed descend upon the lands like a limitless
flock of crows stretching from daybreak to nightfall,” he expounded
with greater eloquence.
Moa and adzebill waited with bated breath for the seer to continue.
Blinking leisurely Skrell returned their interest, seemingly
unconcerned and unhurried.
“And?” prompted Norna.
“And what?” responded Skrell.
“The form this calamity takes, for one. How we can
stop it in its tracks, for another,” said the moa. “And if we can’t
avoid it how to escape it."
“All good questions,” agreed the seer.
“Then provide some answers,” she insisted.
Oddly swiveling his head to glance at Addy, the
irritatingly unflustered owl hooted dolefully. “I really wish I could
oblige, Norna. But I haven’t the foggiest notion.”
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