Philothea Makes a Bad Decision
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The wood grew thicker, and the canopy filtered the sunlight, giving the forest an eerie green look. They had been traveling for three full days now, trying to ration the little stale bread they had left. Philothea kept hoping that they would come to a farm or a town or someplace where they could get more supplies.
Each time they stopped to rest, Zoe asked Philothea to turn her back into a human, and each time Philothea’s attempts were unsuccessful. Philothea was actually glad she couldn’t restore Zoe. She wanted to turn her back eventually, but not until they were safe. She wouldn’t have even tried if it weren’t for Zoe’s insistence.
On the fourth morning, Philothea woke beneath the shade of a foreboding oak tree. She hadn’t made a fire, for fear of attracting Zeno’s men. She simply curled up into a tight ball and wrapped herself in her cloak. Zoe and Pouli slept in the treetop to avoid the predators that prowled the ground at night. What finally pulled her from her slumber was a chorus of bird song.
Zoe’s contributions to this were irritated screeches and the words, “Be quiet, Pouli! It’s too early for this! Must you do this every morning? Ugh!”
Even if she had managed to silence Pouli, it wouldn’t have stopped the thousands of other birds from participating. The hard truth was that sleeping in the forest meant playing by the rules of its inhabitants.
Philothea sat up and stretched before contributing to the routine by asking her daily question.
“How much farther, Pouli?”
It wasn’t a lack of patience that made her ask this every day (well, it was a little). Mostly, it was because the answer Pouli always gave was vague, and she was hoping that eventually he would provide more detail.
But this morning, like all previous, he answered with a song:
Make your way through forest dark,
And over mountain high,
A wall of wooded hills will mark,
The place where home is nigh.
When he’d finished, he puffed himself up proudly and said, “I wrote that song myself!”
“Do you have to answer every question with a song?” Zoe grumbled. “Couldn’t you just say, continue east through the forest and over the mountains until you see a range of wooded hills?”
“You are a bird,” Pouli pointed out. “Do you not like to sing?”
“I don’t sing,” Zoe answered dryly. “As a human or a bird.”
It was true. The Keepers expected all the girls to at least attempt to sing during worship, but Zoe would just half-heartedly mouth the words to appease them.
She told the other girls it was because she was tone-deaf. That might have been true, but knowing Zoe, it could have just been that she wasn’t interested in temple music.
“Breakfast!” Pouli suddenly exclaimed, fluttering over to a tree stump. A trail of ants was moving up the side and across the top.
Pouli happily devoured them. Zoe fluttered onto the edge of Philothea’s basket and began to peck away at the last of the bread.
Philothea was starving. She watched Zoe for a minute and then said, “Um, Zoe…”
“Yes?” Zoe asked, as she tore away at the loaf.
“Well…” Philothea began with a nervous giggle. “We really don’t have a lot of food left and… since you’re a bird, maybe…you could…”
Philothea stopped herself. There was no way what she was about to suggest would get a good reaction.
Zoe seemed to know what Philothea was about to say. Her head flew backward like a viper preparing to strike, and her feathers stood on end.
“Eat the ants!” Pouli screeched happily. Then, just to improve Zoe’s mood, he sang,
Pouli does a merry dance,
Every time he eats the ants!
If you don’t eat ants, you should,
They are crunchy, juicy, good!
“Nevermind,” Philothea mumbled.
“That’s what I thought,” Zoe snapped. She stabbed the bread with her beak.
Philothea took what was left of it. As she nibbled away at the hopeless morsel, she prayed,
Please help us find more rations soon.
When they left a short while later, the last of the bread was gone, and Philothea was still starving. She sent Pouli flying ahead to see if he could find some sign of civilization. Zoe also fluttered up above the canopy to have a look around, but did not stray too far from her companion.
The farther they went, the hungrier they became. Philothea repeated her prayer over and over in her heart.
They stopped for a brief rest in the afternoon, and Philothea asked Zoe to fly up into the treetops and try to look for eggs.
“I will betray my fellow birds with pleasure!” Zoe exclaimed, fluttering away.
Her fellow birds, however, did not take kindly to this, and Zoe was forced to flee, leaving their nests unrobbed.
Though Zoe gave her no sign at all, Philothea guessed that the whole operation upset her.
“Even if you had managed to roll an egg out,” Philothea consoled. “It probably would have shattered when it hit the ground anyway. I couldn’t have done much with that.”
“You know what I miss most about being a human?” Zoe remarked. “Having thumbs.”
The two sat together in silent misery for a while until Pouli returned.
Oh, please may Pouli have found something, Philothea begged.
“Nothing!” he declared cheerily. “You must both eat ants. This is good. You will love them!”
“Nothing?” Philothea pressed. “Not even an old abandoned shack?”
“The only house was a fae house,” Pouli answered. “You must eat ants. They are good!”
Philothea sat bolt upright. “A fae house? Where?”
Zoe popped her head up and regarded Pouli with excitement.
“Northeast,” Pouli answered. “Past a big lake with geese.” His head feathers puffed up angrily. “Very rude geese.” He added a hissing sound.
Philothea’s heart pounded. This was it—the answer to her prayer!
She stood and collected her basket. “Take me there, Pouli.”
“No! No! No! No! It’s bad! Very bad!” Pouli protested.
“What’s so bad about it?” Zoe asked. “Do you know the fae who lives there?”
“Fae are bad! So bad! So sneaky and tricky!” Then he sang, “You will surely rue the day that you dare to trust a fae!”
“But isn’t my mother a fae?” Philothea protested. “Aren’t I half-fae?”
“Kiki is so good. She is a nice fae, a sweet fae. She is sneaky, but good and beautiful. She has a pretty hat.”
“Let’s just go,” Zoe suggested. If she’d been human, she’d have rolled her eyes. “I’ll fly up and see if I can find northeast!”
“No! No! No! No!” Pouli shrieked. He swooped back and forth in front of Philothea’s path.
Philothea tried to wave him away. “If you don’t want us to go there, you’ve got to give us a better reason than ‘fae are bad’.”
“Bad! Bad! Bad!” Pouli cried, swooping back and forth.
“Do the fae work for Zeno? Is that why?” Philothea tried.
Pouli landed on her head as a way of proving his superior opinion. “Fae work for no one! They are tricky and sneaky and bad!”
Philothea felt a prick of hurt and annoyance. How could Pouli tell her that her mother was a fae and then turn around and say fae were somehow evil? A tear rolled down her cheek. Tears didn’t always mean sadness for Philothea. They were just as likely to indicate anger.
And Philothea was very angry. This house was the answer to her prayer, and here Pouli was spouting all kinds of nonsense about how fae are evil.
“We’re going, Pouli,” she snapped, marching forward.
Pouli started swooping across her path, but he couldn’t do much to stop her, especially when Zoe decided to battle him in midair.
“She’s made up her mind,” Zoe cried. “Leave her alone!”
They looked like a hovering blur of feathers tumbling through the air. It was a brief and ferocious fight full of birdish swearing.
Finally, Pouli broke free and landed on Philothea’s shoulder.
“You are a foolish, naughty thing!” he stated.
She ignored him and proceeded forward anyway.
The Fables of Para Sympan 
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