The Lion Who Borrowed a Wing

How it begins

Leo Vale borrowed one wing because two seemed greedy. He attached it to his coat, climbed the low hill and flapped with tremendous concentration.

He turned in a circle.

Willa Reed watched from the pond. She was a crane and knew a good deal about wings. She also knew the look of someone hoping effort would replace instructions.

'Would you like help?'

'I nearly did it,' Leo said.

He flapped again. His hat went one way. His coat went another. The lion stayed on the grass.

Willa retrieved the hat. 'What would you like to see?'

'The other side of my hill.'

Leo had kept the hill paths clear for twenty years. He knew where the blue flowers grew and which rock became warm first in the morning. Beyond the crest, a bright piece of sky always seemed to be inviting him somewhere.

The borrowed wing belonged to the wind. It had arrived in a parcel with no instructions and a note saying PLEASE RETURN BY EVENING.

Willa read the note. 'That gives us time to ask.'

'Ask whom?'

'The wing, perhaps.'

Leo felt foolish. Then he remembered the circle, which had not been especially dignified either.

'What do you need?' he whispered.

The feathers lifted. A small breeze moved through his mane and tugged toward Willa.

'Two kinds of knowing,' the wing said. 'And room to make a mistake.'

Willa spread one of her own wings. The borrowed one opened beside it, matching the angle. Leo felt his paws grow lighter.

Below them, the pond animals gathered. Someone called, 'Bring us back a piece of the sky!'

Leo looked at Willa. For the first time, he wondered whether seeing a thing meant he had to take it.

'Perhaps,' he called back, 'I could bring you a story.'

The wing gave one soft, approving flutter.