Song Said to Have Been Sung by Sam page 12
In the light of an enchanting moon, a moon that bespoke Will's language, he gave his partner in peril, a big thumbs-up and slipped into his clothes. Without so much as the suggestion of a purr, he slipped out the back door. In the light of the moon, which had stopped radiating gold and now contented itself with silver, Will hopped nimbly over a board in the deck that shrieked liked the sudders of a disturbed sheldrake and made his way into the glade dappled with pieces of eight.
More frozen that the most dedicated of statues, a figure stood in the shadows. Will made his way cautiously towards it. When his feet got within feet of it, the statue suddenly vanished. He almost allowed a desperate moan to escape but realized before it was too late that if he did so and the wrong people were to hear, the consequence could be dastardly. For some reason or even no reason at all, the had been wrapped in a down blanket of joy befitting a newborn being conveyed proudly home. The light ebbed. Will kept on the move. He was now no longer afraid of what he could not see. As a matter of fact, he was becoming almost accustomed to the situation. He was almost calm right up to the moment that the statue that was no longer there, now magically unfrozen, clamped a hand over his mouth lest he scream in terror or perhaps to encourage him to try. What he believed were his last thoughts on Earth did not go very far towards easing his unease.
The soft childish hand from the statue that was no longer there had clamped itself over his mouth. If it hadn't been for the iron grip of that tiny hand, Will would have screamed in terror. He soon gave silent thanks for very small mercy. He was in safe hands for when the clouds parted momentarily, he caught a glimpse of his captor in the light of the moon.
A voice whispered in his ear. "You little wimp." Will half-expected to hear a devilish laugh. He knew the whisper well and was convinced that she would be capable of chortling at his misfortune.
"So I'm a wimp," he said softly. "What of it?"
"Nothing," Darlene replied. "It's just that I've been waiting an age to tell you that. We were about to set out on an Owl Prowl and before we even got going, you were ready to throw in the towel. Why? Just because it got itsy bitsy dark."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Will asked.
By this time, they were far enough from the house that it safe to speak normally. Darlene shivered slightly as a chill breeze, heralding false dawn, slid down the glade.
"Is that an Unspotted Owl?" asked Will as a shadow flitted across his field of vision.
"You're so lucky. I was out here by myself for over an hour before I spotted an Unspotted one."
"How can it be Unspotted if you just spotted it?"
"It's called Unspotted, not because no one has ever seen it, but because it has no spots." A feeling of the utmost exasperation almost overcame Darling Darlene. "Unspotted means without spots. It doesn't have anything to do with being spotted, which in this case means being seen. Know what I mean, Jellybean?"
"I knew that," said Will. "I was just testing you."
"I bet you were," Darlene said with as much scorn as she could muster on short notice. "We'll have to be dead quiet or we'll never get another glimpse of the Unspotted Saw-Whet Owl."