“You see?” said Vrana. “The mountain does not punish with claws. It punishes with becoming . You ate a trout. Now you are half a trout. Your song is her memory. Your hunger is her cold. You will never fly straight again.”
Crvendac startled. “Thinking of what?” Crvendac Pastrmka I Vrana Prikaz
The thrush puffed his chest. “I am a bird of stone and sky. I don’t drink from fish.” “You see
And the mountain heard.
Crvendac grew frantic. His insects vanished into the parched moss. He began to take bigger risks — darting down to the water’s edge for drowned flies, closer to Vrana’s tree than he had ever dared. Crvendac Pastrmka I Vrana Prikaz