The Silver Wrap and the Griffin Chick

At twenty past four, Una opened the first-aid kit. There was a gap where the silver wrap should be.

She checked the box twice. The bandages were there. So were the scissors, the blue ointment and the little jar of crushed moonroot. But the roll of silver wrap was gone. Only that roll could hold a griffin's broken wing in place.

"Valerio," she called. "Come here, please."

Valerio came out of the feed store with a bucket in each hand. He was twenty-two and had worked at the Hollow Lane Zoo for only five weeks. He still walked around the paths like a visitor who was afraid to touch things.

"Did you move the silver wrap?" Una asked.

"No. I have not touched the kit." He put down the buckets. "Is it important?"

"It is the most important thing in the zoo this week."

The zoo was small. It had two otters, a family of long-armed monkeys and a sleepy bear. It also had two lamp owls whose eyes glowed gold after dark. But its true treasure lived in the stone pen at the back. It was a young griffin with a torn wing and a temper like a kettle.

The griffin had arrived eleven days earlier in a crate. It was the size of a large dog. It had a sharp curved beak, a lion's back legs and feathers the colour of wet sand. For three days it refused to eat anything at all.

On the fourth evening, Una had sat down on a stool in front of the pen. She had lit her old brass lantern. Then she had read the feeding log aloud, in a slow, ordinary voice. The chick had watched her with one angry eye. Then it had walked to the bowl and eaten every piece of meat.

"I will be here every evening," she had told it that night. "At feeding time, until your wing is strong. That is a promise."

Now it was almost half past four. Feeding time was at five. And the wing needed a fresh wrap before then. If the bones slipped, the damage would be permanent.

"Think," Una said. "Who has been near the kit today?"

They searched the store, the paths and the tool shed. At the monkey house, Valerio pointed through the wire.

"Look."

High in the corner of the enclosure was a messy nest of branches and rags. A thin silver line ran through the middle of it, shining like a spider's thread. The monkeys sat nearby with calm and innocent faces.

"They have been using it as a decoration," Una said. "And they will never give it back. I know them."

"Could we trade for it? With fruit?"

"If we had two hours, perhaps. We have thirty minutes." She breathed out slowly. "The clinic on the other side of the river keeps a spare roll. If I run, I can be back by half past five."

"But the feeding is at five," Valerio said.

"I know."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. A lamp owl called from the roof, a soft sound like someone blowing across a bottle.

"If the chick does not eat tonight, it will grow weaker," Una said. "But if the wing slips, it may never fly. I cannot choose between those. I have to do the wrap first."

She took the brass lantern from its hook and held it out to him.

"Light this at five. Sit on my stool. Read the log aloud, anything at all, in a calm voice. Put the bowl in front of the pen and do not rush."

"I am afraid of that animal," Valerio said quietly. "It hissed at me on Tuesday."

"It hisses at everyone."

"It looked at me as if I was lunch."

"Then talk slowly." Una put a hand on his arm. "You will be fine. I will run fast."

And she ran.

The path to the river was long and crowded with visitors going home. Una pushed through them with quick apologies, her bag bumping against her hip. At the footbridge she slowed down, and her heart dropped. A long orange barge was passing underneath, and the middle of the bridge had lifted into the air.

"How long?" she called to the bridge keeper.

"Ten minutes," he said. "Maybe fifteen. It is a big one."

She looked at the water and at the clock on the opposite bank. Four forty-nine. She would reach the clinic by five past five, find the roll and run back. It would be six before she saw the stone pen.

She had broken her promise already. She just had not heard the sound of it yet.

Back at the zoo, Valerio lit the lantern at five o'clock exactly. His fingers shook so badly that he used three matches.

The path to the back of the zoo was quiet. The sun was low and orange between the trees. At the pen, the griffin chick was standing by the wall. Its injured wing was held awkwardly against its side. It looked at him with sharp amber eyes and opened its beak in a slow, rattling hiss.

Valerio stopped. His legs wanted to turn round.

Then he remembered the stool. He pulled it forward and sat down, holding the lantern in his lap. He put the bowl of meat on the ground in front of the bars.

"Hello," he said, and his voice came out thin. "I am not Una. I am sorry about that. She will come back as soon as she can."

The griffin did not move.

He picked up the feeding log. Una kept it in a battered green notebook, and he opened it at random. It listed dates, weights and short notes in her small handwriting. He began to read.

"Tuesday. Chick refused the first piece, took the second. Watched the lantern for a long time."

The griffin tilted its head.

"Wednesday. Slept in the corner. Ate a little. Did not hiss at Valerio." He stopped. "That is not true. It hissed at me. Una wrote that to be kind."

The chick made a low sound in its throat. It was not quite a hiss any more.

He kept reading. When the log ran out of pages, he began to talk about his own day. He talked about the feed store and the strange noise the cold tap made. He told it how he had called the otters by the wrong names for a whole week. His voice grew steadier. The griffin took one step toward the bowl, and then another.

By the time the lantern burned low, the bowl was empty. The chick had settled on the straw. Its good wing was folded neatly, and its eyes were half closed.

Una arrived at twenty to six, out of breath. The new roll of silver wrap was in her fist. She slowed down as she came round the corner. She saw the light first, and then the stool. Valerio sat on it with the green notebook open on his knee.

The griffin lay at his feet, as close to the bars as it could get. Its beak rested on the ground beside his boot.

"I promised that I would be here," Una said softly.

"You were," said Valerio. "I only borrowed your stool."