length were tight and still. Her instinct knew the signs, and again and again she quavered out the “Fuego!” that had disgraced St. John’s Day.
No one heard. From the chapel still sounded the intoning of prayer, broken by the rumble and swell of the padres’ voices.
A moment, and she acted. With a “Ga-a-wk!” of defiance, she aimed her flight for the ground, took it in all but a somersault, and landed herself directly before the astonished Tomasso. Then once again she spread her wings and squared her rudder, making ready for a clash.
Tomasso’s eyes fell to her, he relaxed, body and tail, spitting resentfully.
