The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly by Sun-mi Hwang Page A

leave her just because the leader praised him. He would never leave her. She puffed her chest out confidently. “Chickens fear the fields?”
    â€œOh, not you, of course. But the other chickens don’t know a thing. I’m sure they don’t even know that their ancestors paraded around the skies, like birds.”
    â€œChickens? Like birds?” Sprout couldn’t believe her ears. Flying with these wings that only scattered dust? She had seen the rooster jump down from the stone wall with his wings outstretched, but that couldn’t be called flying. At the very least, flying required floating up higher than a tree and traveling elsewhere, managing to be afloat for a long time. It would be wonderful if she could fly. “But what happened? Why can’t we fly anymore?” Sprout stretched her wings. She wouldn’t be able to clear even the tops of the reeds.
    â€œWell, that’s because all you do is eat all day and lay eggs,” the leader explained. “Your wings grow weaker and your behind grows bigger. And yet you still think you’re so great, saying you represent the voice of the sun.”
    Sprout thought it was laughable that he was bad-mouthing chickens behind the rooster’s back; he wouldn’t say a word of this to the rooster’s face. “So if our behinds grew larger, why was it the ducks that ended up waddling?” Sprout asked gently. “And you have wings, too. What do you use them for?”
    The leader coughed and changed the subject. “Actually, I came to talk to you about the duckling. It’s dangerous for him to live like this. Let’s go back to the barn. Let him, at least, even if you don’t want to.”
    â€œNothing bad has happened to us here. If you continue to make such a ruckus, everyone’s going to find out where we’re hiding. Please go home with your family. We’re not going back.”
    â€œTwo chicks from the barnyard were taken!” the leader pressed. “Because curiosity led them up the hill from behind the garden. The hen is depressed and won’t even come out of the barn.”
    Sprout shook her neck feathers in fright. She didn’t understand why the weasel insisted on devouring the living. “Baby, come,” she said, wanting to keep her baby safe under her wings. But Baby just looked at her and then at the leader, hurting her feelings a little.
    â€œIt was too much for the hen to look after all those chicks by herself,” continued the leader. “But we’re different. We have a big family, so it’ll be easy to look after one duckling. Don’t make your life difficult. Let us help. It’s inevitable that the weasel will try to take all the chicks now that he’s had a taste of tender flesh. You know who’s next.”
    Sprout tensed her claws. She could sense the shadow of the frightening hunter approaching. The weasel would be here soon enough. He might already be looking this way. She glared at the leader, rendering him mute. “Leave us and go. Now,” she ordered.
    â€œYou’re so stubborn! You can’t keep thinking of him as a chick. Even though a hen hatched him, a duck is a duck!” the leader said in a huff and then left.
    The other ducks raised a fuss when they learned the duckling wasn’t coming with them. The reed warblers twittered nervously until the quacking died down. Baby sat in the nest, looking at the retreating ducks. He didn’t look as carefree as before. The ducks’ ruckus must have bothered him.
    â€œBaby, we need to leave,” Sprout said. “It’s not safe here anymore.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œIf the ducks found us, the weasel will, too. The weasel is powerful. He can easily hurt us. He hunts the living, and he never gives up. So let’s find another nest before nightfall.” Sprout gathered their feathers that had scattered on the ground and tossed them in the water.