Something resembling a smile hovered on the eagle’s fierce face. “Ach! Don’t be callin’ me sir, Song mah lass. Ah’m known by the name o’ Mighty Megraw, but Megraw’ll do jus’ fain.” Then the eagle turned to the male cormorant, nodding politely. “An’ mah thanks to ye, guid bird, fer pullin’ us frae yon water.”

The female cormorant averted her head, speaking as if to nobeast in particular as she hugged and plumped her feathers. “Rrrrr! Squiddles’n’eagles can’t stop ’ere. Gluck gluck, no!”

Megraw fixed her with a murderous stare. “D’ye no say? Well, mah compliments to ye, marm, me an’ mah guid friend’ll no stay longer than the time et takes us tae walk away frae here. Though if ye look doon yer beak at us like that again, ah’ll eat ye for sure an’ give yer mate a bit o’ peace. Good day to ye now. Come on, Song mah wee lassie.”

Song followed Megraw as he limped from the nest, nodding a silent and grateful farewell to the male cormorant as she went.

Making their way along the bank, they left the rocky area and sat to rest on a mossy sward. Night was beginning to fall. Megraw nodded his head in both directions. “Well, which way noo, Song?”

The squirrelmaid looked back toward the waterfall. “I have three friends, but I parted from them at the top of the falls when I jumped in after you. They’ll be searching for me now, I expect. Perhaps we’d best stay here until they come along this way to find me. What d’you think, Megraw?”

“Aye, we’ll do that, though ah’m powerful hungry the noo.”

Song undid the broken rope from about her waist, surprised that her Leafwood stick was still thrust into it. “You stay there and rest, mister Megraw. I’ll go and find us some fruit and berries. Should be some hereabouts.”

The osprey squinched his eyes up in disgust. “Fruit’n’berries, did ye say? Ye’ll poison yersel’ fer sure, lass! You go an’ search out yer ain vittles, an’ leave me here tae fish. An’ don’t call me mister. The name’s Megraw, d’ye ken.”

Song had not strayed far when she found blackberries and some fine apples. As she returned to the bank, Megraw averted his head politely and swallowed. “A guid spot this, ah got mahsel’ a plump wee grayling. But fear not, Song, ’tis gone now. Ah mind how the sight o’ flesh-eaters can upset those who live on roots an’ berries an’ sich nonsense. Nae wonder they cannae fly!”