Pouli Explains (Sort of)
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The poof filled the whole cave with white smoke and when it cleared Pouli the man was nowhere to be seen. Standing in his place was a little speckled starling. The bird hopped around for a moment, then let out a delighted little chirp and flew out of the cave.
Philothea and Zoe watched him go and remained paralyzed in shocked silence before Philothea cried, “Wait! Pouli! We need you!”
A moment later, the little bird shot back into the cave and alighted on the handle of one of the broken pots.
“I am a bird,” he said, twirling his wings.
Philothea jumped when she heard him speak. It wasn’t something she expected a starling to be able to do.
“I am a good bird! A pretty bird!” he continued complimenting himself. He did not open and close his beak when he spoke, instead he shaped the words with his throat. The feathers on his neck puffed out as he delivered each word.
“Hmmm…” Zoe began as she observed him. “I guess he really was a bird…”
Philothea pulled the seal off her finger. The power it unlocked faded but did not disappear completely, it seemed to linger in some distant corner of her being, ready to re-emerge when she put the ring back on.
She sank to her knees feeling drained and empty.
“Are you alright?” Zoe asked.
To Philothea’s horror, she felt tears on her cheeks. She wasn’t sad about anything in particular. She was just exhausted and overwhelmed. What had she just done? How had she done it?
“Pouli?” she asked. “What just happened?”
“You made me a bird,” Pouli explained.
Philothea looked at the ring in her palm, then she wiped the tears off her cheeks with the opposite hand. “Zoe, put it on!” she said, thrusting the seal toward her.
“Sure, why not?” Zoe shrugged. She tried it, waited a moment, and then removed it and handed it back to Philothea. “Nope, I’m not magic. I guess that’s a you thing.”
Philothea furrowed her brow as she pondered this mystery.
“Zoe? Can we sleep here tonight?” she asked. “Maybe we can… make a plan and try to find out more from Pouli?”
A few moments later, the girls were sitting comfortably eating the bread from the basket in the corner. It was dry, stale, and crumbling everywhere but after walking for miles with nothing but blackberries to sustain them it was divine.
Pouli perched on Zoe’s wrist, stealing bits of her loaf as she put it to her mouth.
“Stop! Stop!” she ordered him, holding up a warning finger. “There’s a whole other loaf in the basket.”
“Mine!” Pouli replied as his little beak shot in and out of the loaf. “Yours is mine! Yours is good!”
“You can have mine, Pouli,” Philothea offered.
The little bird looked at Philothea’s loaf in disgust. “Yours is bad.”
“No it isn’t,” she answered.
But try as she might, she was not able to convince the cynical bird that both loaves were identical. He wanted Zoe’s and that was that.
“If we end up starving in the wilderness, this bird will be the first to go,” Zoe whispered. “I’ll cook him like a chicken.”
Pouli must have heard her because all of his feathers stood on end and his head flew backward into striking position. “You are a naughty bird. You must go back in your cage!”
“Pouli,” Philothea interrupted. “Tomorrow you will take us to Kiki and she will give you fresh bread and grapes too but only if you leave Zoe alone.”
Pouli’s feathers deflated and he started to whistle happily.
“Pouli is a handsome bird, handsome, sweet and keen!
With the dawn, this bird will lead the princess to the queen!”
“Does he really have to sing everything?” Zoe grumbled.
“Shush!” Philothea interrupted. “You’re making him angry.”
“It doesn’t seem that difficult,” Zoe pointed out.
“That’s a beautiful song, Pouli,” Philothea smiled.
Pouli puffed up proudly. “That’s my song that I made.”
“It’s wonderful, Pouli!” Philothea praised. “Can you do another one? One about Queen Kiki? And the king, there’s a king isn’t there?”
“He has a beard,” Pouli stated.
“So there is a king? My dad?”
“He has a beautiful hat,” Pouli stated. “And the queen has a beautiful hat and the prince has a beautiful hat. But not you, because you were small and bald.”
“A prince?” Philothea exclaimed. “So I have a brother?”
“He does not have a beard,” Pouli said. “He is bald in the face. His hat has red gems and green gems and…” The bird went into a trance as he continued describing the prince’s crown. Then, he suddenly shook himself out of it. “They are not for Pouli!”
“What is the name of their kingdom?” Philothea asked.
Pouli didn’t seem to understand her question. Instead of answering it, he just started whistling to himself.
“What kind of people live there?” Philothea tried. “Are they all magic?”
“Only Kiki,” Pouli answered. “Kiki is the fae queen!”
Philothea’s mouth fell open.
“I knew it,” Zoe stated. “You’re half fae. That’s why you’re magic.”
“Only Kiki and Zeno! Kiki and Zeno! Kiki and Zeno and the little bald baby!” Pouli sang.
“Zeno? You talked about him before. He tried to kill me when I was little?” Philothea pressed.
“Hide the baby! Zeno is coming!” Pouli repeated, falling back into his unsettling impersonation.
“Why does Emperor Zeno want to kill Philothea?” Zoe asked.
“Because of a song,” Pouli answered.
Philothea and Zoe both sat back expectantly. Pouli fluttered off of Zoe’s wrist and landed on a pot-handle. He yawned and tucked his head under his wing.
“Pouli!” Zoe called.
He jumped then caught himself with an awkward flutter and glared at her. “Go to sleep!”
“But, Pouli, the song!” Philothea insisted.
Pouli yawned again. “What about it?”
“Sing it,” Zoe demanded.
The little bird looked toward the mouth of the cave, then back at them. “It’s dark now. Time to sleep.” He tucked his head under his wing.
Philothea made a frustrated sound that was like a growl, a giggle, and squeal all rolled into one. “Pouli, please tell me why Zeno wants to kill me?”
The bird made a muffled sound from under his wing. Philothea could tell from his tone that he was saying, “Go to sleep.”
Philothea asked over and over again, but the bird ignored her. Finally, she gave up and tried to get comfortable on the stone floor of the little cave. Though Philothea was exhausted to her core, she couldn’t fall asleep. She kept thinking about her family–her father, her mother, and her brother. As she lay there wondering what they were like, she was struck with an awful thought–what if Zeno killed them? What if she were the only survivor? That couldn’t be true otherwise; where was Pouli taking her? Her mind continued fabricating hypotheticals as she struggled to fall asleep.
The Fables of Para Sympan 