The Tale of a Little Bird and a Little Angel
"Once there was a bird." The voice sounded far off and hoarse, but it was obviously a girl's.
"A bird?" The voice was closer and sounded incredibly young and familiar.
"Yes, Mi Cielo, a bird. Now stop interrupting." The sound of a throat being cleared. "The bird loved to fly and sing, and she was a very pretty bird. Because she was such a pretty bird all the other birds loved to play with her, and the bird was happy."
"Why a bird? I want an exciting story! And I thought you were going to tell me your story, how you ended up all banged up, and–"
"If you're going to keep interrupting you won't get any story," the girl's voice snapped back. After a few minutes of silence the girl continued.
"Now, as I was saying. The pretty bird was happy. Until she laid an egg. She didn't want the egg, because having an egg meant she couldn't go flying with the other birds like she wanted to. So the pretty bird hated the egg and each day she would peck at it, hoping it wouldn't hatch so she could go back to flying and singing."
"Why didn't she want it to hatch?"
"Ezzrrraaa! If you keep interrupting I'll never finish!"
"S-sorry. But why didn't she want it to hatch? I thought birds wanted baby birds." The honest confusion behind the question was both endearing and sad.
There was a long sigh followed by the sound of something being hit and a muffled yelp.
"Hush and listen! By the end of the story you should understand and if you don't, I'll answer your questions after I've finished. Ok?"
"Ok!" Ezra's voice whined.
"Aww! You sound so cute!" Sabine teased and Ezra gave her a tight smile.
"She said that too," he whispered. "Must be a girl thing."
"But it did hatch and the pretty bird became a momma bird." The girl continued the story. "Now the pretty bird had to go flying again so she could find food to feed the Little Bird, and she did. And for awhile she was a good momma bird until. . ."
The girl's voice faded away and when she continued it was in a flat, emotionless tone.
"The pretty bird loved to fly and each day she would spend longer and longer flying with the other birds and forget to feed the Little Bird until she came home to sleep.
"The Little Bird didn't care. It didn't know any better. The only thing it knew was that its mother bird loved to fly. So every day while the pretty bird was gone the Little Bird would flap its tiny wings and try to fly. But it never could. It was too small and too weak.
"This happened day after day until one night a storm came and lightening struck the tree the pretty bird and the Little Bird were sleeping in and set it on fire. The pretty bird got scared and started to fly away. The Little Bird called out, hopping after the pretty bird and flapping its little wings. The Little Bird still couldn't fly and it needed its momma to save it. The pretty bird looked at the Little Bird, then at the fire, and finally at all the other birds flying away.
"The Little Bird watched its momma bird fly away.
"The Little Bird was so surprised and hurt that it forgot about the fire, and the fire caught the Little Bird. The Little Bird got scared and it jumped, but it still couldn't fly so it fell.
"The fall broke one of the Little Bird's wings. The Little Bird cried until the storm went away and the sun came up.
"A man heard the Little Bird. He took it in, gave it food, and made the pain go away. The man said the Little Bird could stay, but it would have to help the man. The Little Bird thought the man was kind so it agreed.
"When the Little Bird said 'yes,' the man smiled and said it would teach the Little Bird all sorts of 'tricks' and to call him 'Master.'" The word was spat like the worst curse.
'So that's why he hates the word so much.' Kanan thought, hiding a wince.
"The Little Bird didn't know what the word meant, didn't know what it would mean, so it happily called the man 'Master.'
"The man taught the Little Bird many 'tricks.' Tricks to take things from other people, to make things disappear. They were bad tricks but the Little Bird didn't know that and every time the Little Bird did a trick the man would feed the Little Bird, smile, and say he was happy."
Zeb closed his eyes. He knew what the girl was talking about, he'd seen it before. Children taken in by gangs and taught to be thieves, used because they were small and could easily go unnoticed.
"This became the Little Bird's new life and though it was happy, the Little Bird still wanted to fly. Every day the Little Bird would flap its wings and try to fly, but all it could do was flutter. Until one day it flew." The girl's voice filled with wonder and joy, and the depressive atmosphere lightened.
"It flew and flew and flew, and it never wanted to stop. The Little Bird was so happy and it wanted to show the man. But, the man didn't like it." Bitterness filled the voice.
"He didn't want the Little Bird to fly because he knew if the Little Bird could fly it would leave him and he didn't want that. The man got angry and told the Little Bird it should never fly again!
"The Little Bird was surprised and sad. It wanted to fly, but it also wanted to make the man happy. So the Little Bird folded its wings and walked. But, oh, how it wanted to fly!
"Then one day the Little Bird got an idea; it would fly where the man couldn't see it! That way they would both be happy."
'It's not going to work, is it?' Sabine thought sadly.
"Whenever the Little Bird was alone it would fly and stop when the man was around. For awhile it worked, but one day the man saw the Little Bird."
'I knew it!' Sabine's hands clenched into fists.
"The man grew angry, very angry," the girl continued, voice low and tight. "He caught the Little Bird and he broke the Little Bird's wings saying it was bad and deserved to be punished. When he was done hurting the Little Bird he threw it in a cage and left."
Hera was tense, it sounded far too much like slavery. It was slavery as far as she was concerned and she longed to stop the story. To hold the hurting boy in front of her and hide him away from the pain it was causing him, but Kanan's hand kept her where she was. Though by how tightly his hand was gripping her arm, she knew he wasn't any happier than she was.
"The Little Bird cried, scared and confused. Why was the nice man so mean now?
"Eventually the Little Bird's wings healed, but it was too scared of the man to try to fly or even leave the cage. Days went by and the man got meaner. Finally, the Little Bird had enough, it was going to leave and it was going to fly far, far away from the mean man.
"The next time the man opened the door the Little Bird jumped and flew past the man. It tried to leave, but it was too weak and too slow. The man caught the Little Bird and he hurt the Little Bird. He broke the Little Bird's legs, pulled out its feathers, and beat the Little Bird. Then. . .then he did something horrible, something so completely unforgivable.
"The man took the Little Bird's wings. He took them away and he threw the Little Bird away!"
There was sobbing in the background, but the girl continued anyway, voice rough and broken.
"It cried. It cried until it couldn't anymore and then it waited to die.
"Only it didn't. The Little Bird was found again, this time by a Little Angel."
"Oh, is that me? That's me isn't it?" Ezra's childish voice asked, filled with excitement. "Why am I an angel?"
He sounded annoyed and confused, and the frustrated sigh that followed the question told the crew the girl was not pleased at being interrupted. Again.
"Ezra, this story is hard enough to tell without you butting in. If you interrupt again, I won't finish it," she threatened.
There was another brief silence.
"Good. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. . .The Little Angel saw the Little Bird and took it home where he begged his mom and dad angel to help the Little Bird. So they helped the Little Bird. The Little Bird didn't want their help. It wanted to die, but it was too tired to tell them.
"The Little Bird was angry, and it hated the angels for not letting it die, but," the girl hesitated. "It especially hated the Little Angel."
There was a gasp and the sound of scuffling.
"What? Yo- you hated me!?" The cry was filled with hurt and betrayal.
There was a small pause followed by a sigh.
"Just sit down and listen, Mi Cielo. Please?"
There was another pause before the sound of rustling material told them Ezra must have sat back down. Though when the girl started speaking again her voice was even farther away, telling them that young Ezra had moved away from her.
"The Little Bird hated how the Little Angel was always there, talking to it, trying to help. The Little bird especially hated how the Little Angel was always fluttering around, trying to fly. Every time the Little Angel tried to help, the Little Bird would peck at him and hurt him, but the Little Angel kept trying.
"Slowly the Little Bird got better. It started walking again and its wounds faded to tiny scars. But its wings were still gone and the Little Bird stayed sad. One night the Little Angel heard the Little Bird crying for its missing wings. The next day the Little Angel took the Little Bird with him while he tried to fly. He gave the Little Bird a bright yellow coat to hide the missing feathers, and told the Little Bird that if it ever wanted to fly he would carry it.
"The Little Bird got angry and said many mean things to the Little Angel, but the Little Angel didn't stop being nice.
"Gradually, the Little Bird stopped saying mean things and even began helping the Little Angel fly.
"Slowly the Little Bird became happy and it grew to love the Little Angel."
"Really? You love me?" Ezra's voice asked, the desperation was painful to hear.
"Yep." Ezra had apparently moved closer to the girl as her voice was just as clear as his now. "The Little Angel became the Little Bird's world and that's what it called the Little Angel: Mi Cielo, 'my sky, my world.*'
"But," her voice hesitated slightly. "But then the demons came. They came, and they took away the Little Angel's parents."
There was a whimper and a muffled cry.
"The Little Bird managed to hide the Little Angel, but not before one of the demons broke the Little Angel's wings."
"I didn't break anything," Ezra's voice protested.
"It's a metaphor," the girl explained tiredly.
"A what?**"
There was groan followed by a sigh.
"A metaphor. It means the wings are just, ah, symbols I guess, for something else."
"Oh. Wait, does that mean the whole story's a metaphor?"
". . .You're just realizing this now?"
"Um, yes?"
There was muffled groan.
"Of course the story's a metaphor. After all I'm not a bird, you're not really an angel, and neither of us can fly, right?"
"Right. So, um, what does it all mean?"
There was a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan, and Ezra's voice chuckled uneasily.
"I can't believe you're making me explain this," the girl sighed. "Fine, fine. Look, to fly is to, er, love, I guess. You can't fly without wings, right? And you can't love without hope and trust. When they broke your 'wing' what I meant was they 'broke' your trust. Your trust in people and life. Get it?"
"Got it." There was a pause. "Soooo, if the whole story's a metaphor, then the coat is actually your hat, right?"
"Right."
"So what do the feathers stand for?"
". . .innocence."
"Oh. . .I don't understand."
"I hope you never do," the girl muttered darkly.
In the back of her mind Hera wondered if Ezra now understood what the girl meant. She really hoped he didn't, but given how much of life's cruelty Ezra had been exposed to she doubted that was the case.
"So, when they broke your wing they broke a part of your heart, and well. . .
"The Little Angel cried. He cried for his parents and he cried for his wings. The Little Bird did what it could to help the Little Angel. It taught him all the tricks that man had taught it so long ago. It healed the Little Bird's wings and taught him how to fly again. Slowly the Little Angel began to smile and laugh again, and the Little Bird was happy."
The circular holorecorder turned off and lifted into the air, flying back to Ezra. He flipped it between his hands as he stared out over the plains.
"She never knew I was recording it," he told them. "I didn't even know I was. I found it and she would tell me stories while I messed with it. I didn't even realize anything had been recorded until a few months later. I knocked it over and suddenly heard her voice."
He laughed bitterly.
"Scared the parc out of me, since she'd been. . .
"There was a riot," he began softly, still facing away from them. "Back then it – Well, they, the Empire and the Imperials, they hadn't terrified everyone into silence yet and there were still people like. . .like my parents, who spoke out."
He snorted and shoved the holorecorder out of sight.
"When they were drunk enough, anyway." He sighed and when he spoke again it was with a detached sort of longing, as if he wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock but didn't want to deal with the pain of knowing he couldn't.
"The Changing Festival. It's not celebrated anymore, the Empire banned it, but it used to be. All over Lothal too. It was held twice a year for the whole week; once in the spring to celebrate winter ending, and again in the fall to celebrate a successful harvest."
He closed his eyes, and to the crew he suddenly seemed much older and worn.
"She – she loved the festival. She would always say it was because food and money and supplies were everywhere, and there was no way anyone could catch us because there were too many people and too much stuff going on." He huffed a small laugh. "I think she loved it because on those days it was easy to forget – to pretend we were normal kids just running around having fun."
Author's Notes:
* A direct translation of 'Mi Cielo' from Spanish to English reads as 'my pet' but translate the English 'my world' to Spanish and you get 'Mi Cielo.' Just in case anyone is confused on the translation. For those of you that speak Spanish, I know this isn't a term that's used between siblings, rather between lovers, but I like the concept of her thinking Ezra is her 'world.' As for why Spanish? I wanted it in a different language, partly because I enjoy using other languages and liked the way it sounded in Spanish and partly because I have a really, really hard time believing everyone in the Star Wars universe spoke the same language. I know they have the 'basic' language but I felt a need for some variety and having her speak a different language, or at least use words from one, added a little depth. But that's just my opinion and as my editor told me:
(TrojanHelen101) I actually speak spanish and yes, I know that google translates it to 'my pet' but cielo actually means 'sky'. So saying 'mi cielo' would be the same as saying 'my sky', which fits better in my opinion considering she refers to herself as a bird.
So I'll leave it up to you, my loyal readers, which translation you prefer.
** Ezra was orphaned at 7/8 and I don't know too many 7/8 year olds that know what a metaphor is. Also it was a convenient way for me to explain something that was possibly confusing. Call it lazy writing, but eh! As for why she knows even though they're about the same age? Well, you learn more on the streets, plus lazy writing I guess.