Once upon a time, the girl made her first friend: a bird of olive-brown plumage with twin patches of white set above its eyes, resembling eyebrows. The bird perched upon her shoulder wherever she went, and more often than not she would be seen talking to it, her head tilted to the side.
So quickly the bird had grown close to her, that soon the girl decided it wouldn't do to continue addressing her friend in second person. So she searched for a suitable name in the only tongue she knew, one since eroded by time and circumstance— reduced here, for simplicity's sake, to its near equivalent:
Warble.
Everyone in the village approved of the pet, which was more of a companion to the child than they ever could be. For she was by and large left alone by her guardian the chief's sister, a stern-faced woman who'd lost her husband in a boar hunt; and her peers, all too aware of whom she lived with, gave her a wide berth. Alas, popular opinion soon changed.
The bird had thrived under all the care and attention it had been lavished with. To be sure, every conceivable being under the sky grew and matured, as such was the nature of things, but to this particular being the principle had been applied all too well. Warble had surpassed even the largest of falcons in stature, and was on the way to rivaling the average hound. It was decided that the pet warranted some close watching.
Having never seen a bird that underwent such exponential growth, and in so short a time, the villagers grew certain that Warble was of an altogether new species; the idea gave rise to numerous speculations and, as surely as the leaves wither in the fall, discussions eventually took a negative turn.
There was no sign of the creature developing a taste for flesh, or blood, or spiriting away unsuspecting villagers for who-knew-what…
…but then again, who's to say none of it'll ever happen?
And so Warble continued to grow, amidst their scrutiny and fretting, until its head now reached her shoulder; and it seemed to all that their worst fear was being realised. Soon the bird would match and surpass its keeper in height.
After holding secret council, it was decided that the chief and a few handpicked others would be the ones to broach the subject.
As the group made their concerns known, the girl threw her arms around Warble. She was the only one who'd delighted in the bird's uncanny spurt of growth, and was even looking forward to its continuation. She kept silent as they spoke, struggling for a retort. Their arguments may be valid, but her own was equally so: her friend doesn't even like meat. And Warble wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone take a bite out of someone's arm; how could they ever accuse the bird of gobbling up one of her peers? Suddenly overwhelmed, her eyes began to tear.
And it was decided that perhaps they'd all been a tad too harsh. The girl didn't even know who her parents were, poor thing, and her guardian wasn't exactly a model caretaker; the woman had lived sans husband and children for too long, and it was a wonder that the girl had been as spirited as others of her age. So they held in their sighs, and agreed to give the bird a chance.
Still they kept their eyes on the creature, however. Mothers began to warn their children against getting too close to the girl, who was never too far from her friend. And the dogs began to bark at even a glimpse of the bird, which was now as large as the average boulder. Soon the people began to talk amongst themselves once more and finally, when Warble was a head taller than the girl, it was decided that something had to be done about the giant bird; in no time the creature would become taller than any of them, and they began to doubt it would ever stop growing. Steps must be taken, the bird banished from the village— with the girl or no.
They needn't have gone through so much trouble.
The dogs had gone from barking upon the sight of the bird, to barking soon as they caught a whiff of its scent. Days and nights they've filled the village with their barks, fraying the patience and tempers of all. Long realising this, the girl had sought to keep her friend away from them, but she could never quite succeed in her endeavour. Her guardian, being direcly related to the chief, had the priviledge of living in the centre of the village; and the two could never quite make their way back home without running into at least one dog.
The confrontation happened one midday, the two friends having just returned from another walk in the forest. The girl was in midst of chatter when Warble interrupted her with a brief melody. And no sooner than the tune had ended, a growl reached their ears.
The dog itself looked no different from its brethren, being roughly of the same breed and size. But its eyes seemed to burn more fiercely, its jaws bared a bit wider, and the growl rumbling from its throat pitches lower. Furthermore, it had been strong enough to break free of the wooden stake it'd been tied to; a piece of rope was wound round its neck and hanging loose, its ends fraying.
No longer content with mere growling, it began to bark; others soon joined in. To the girl the voices seemed to be closing in on them, although all save one dog were in sight. Her eyes grew wide, and she took a step backwards.
Noticing this, her friend gave a reassuring chirp and hopped forwards, overshadowing the dog— which went from a bark to a whine in an instant; and was fleeing in another, tail tucked between its legs. The bird followed, with the girl a short distance behind. The surroundings swept by in a blur as she ran, and so she had not given any thought to the other villagers until she actually saw one of them come into view: a young man dressed for a hunt— she saw the bow and quiver slung across a shoulder, but his face was unfamiliar to her.
The other, however, recognised her; though not before catching sight of the dog and giant bird racing towards him. He'd no sooner exclaimed in surprise than the former had swerved, speeding past him. Warble, eyes never leaving the dog, began to flap its wings; and she saw the man draw an arrow from his quiver. She gave a shout, urged her already burning legs to run even faster.
When the man looked to the bird again, it was no longer in sight.
It took what seemed like hours of panic, some screaming and the village being turned upside-down before Warble was finally found: on the roof of the hut where the girl stayed. As soon as the bird was cajoled back on firm land, the chief stepped forth and delivered his ultimatum; and everyone else, having gathered round the hut by that time, nodded and murmured— if not yelled from the top of their lungs— in agreement. The girl tried to argue, to bargain, but their wills were resolved; she could do aught but nod her head and walk away, her friend by her side.
The chief was the closest she had to a father, the village her home; she had no memory of life prior to being found, of having wandered around the forest… She had always known, deep down, that Warble could not stay with her forever. The bird moved alongside her with a face she couldn't read and she wondered at its silence, wondered if it knew what was to happen.
They stopped deep in the forest. The bird kept silent as the girl explained herself and, when she was done, gave an uncertain chirp. She swallowed, and somehow managed to keep her arm from shaking as she pointed at a random cluster of trees. And told Warble to leave. The bird did not seem to understand her, for it only tilted its head and gave another soft chirp. The girl shook her head and, taking a deep breath, looked deep within herself for words to persuade her friend. She opened her mouth.
They were the best of friends. She had met Warble when the bird was a mere chick, no larger than the palm of her hand, and promptly decided to bring it home. Auntie had been refused point-blank to allowing the creature inside her hut, but the girl had snuck it in anyways and, when the stringent woman found out, appealed to the chief with as much tears as she could muster. He agreed, Warble grew… and how she must have been envied, having a friend such as Warble! The bird was as large as any dog, and still growing, and it sang the loveliest of melodies. It was understandable that the villagers had protested against its remaining amongst them, but they were wrong nevertheless. They were friends, and will always be so, no matter who outgrew… or outlived who. They just weren't going to see each other for sometime— a very long time, maybe, but still; that changed nothing!
Olive-brown plumage blended with that of the surrounding trees, and blurred. It was quite some time before the girl returned to her village, but if her eyes a bit red, and her movements jerky, no-one said a word.
To be continued in: Koxinga and the Monster Bird
(In which the general leads his troop north to continue his pwnage of the Dutch, and meets a bird of monstrous size. Cannons were fired and the creature was no more, having been turned into a geological landform.)
... To this day the gigantic rock stands, bird-shaped and beak broken (supposedly blasted off by a cannon), in the district of Yingge (鶯歌). Which is written with the characters 'warbler' and 'song'.
Koxinga is a figure of legendary status in Taiwan (then called Formosa, or 'beautiful island'), for leading his troops in kicking the Dutch East India Company off the island. They were Ming loyalists and, since there was a regime change back home— where the Manchus established the Qing dynasty— they decided to stay. And use the island in their masterplan of pwning the Manchus, which never happened. (According to my collection of folktale,) after his death he was greatly missed and so, to commemorate the guy, they created Koxinga and the Moster X series.
... actually? Forget that last bit.