Sunwing by Kenneth Oppel Page B

flat, wings spread. Shade frowned. Without moving, the bats seemed to be gliding along the inside of the trough, stopping wherever Humans were stationed outside.
    In went the hands, and Shade couldn’t see what the Humans were doing to the bats, because the hands blocked his view.
    But he could hear their voices, shrill in the humid air.
    “Please!”
    “No! No … “
    “Why are you doing this?”
    And worst of all, he could hear them calling out names, calling out to each other across the room, trying to find out where they were, what was happening to them.
    The Humans worked in silence, cold and efficient. He saw Males and Females, their hair tied back, doing this work, and he remembered when he’d seen Humans in the cathedral, in the city, standing and praying. They were silent then too, but he’d thought differently of them. He’d been in awe of their size and strength. Now he was terrified of them.
    “I can’t see,” he whispered to Marina.
    “Don’t.”
    But he couldn’t stop himself. He had to find out what they were doing. He dropped down, hugging the wall for cover, watching the Humans. They were all so intent on their ghastly work, they never looked up. They wouldn’t notice him.
    “Shade!” Marina was following him, clutching at him with her claws. “Come back up. We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to tell the others.”
    He shook her loose and continued to drop down in quick, tight curves.
    Set out beside the Humans were small, high platforms covered with metal instruments, which glinted harshly in the light. Some were sharp, the sight of them making a stab of pain in Shade’s stomach. The Humans picked up their instruments, and pushed their gloved hands through a pair of round portals in the side of the trough. Shade heard the bats cry out.
    Not since the owls burned down Tree Haven had he been so angry. Fury roared in his ears, and for a moment he couldn’t see. Closer he flew, his eyes filled with tears of rage. This was not the Promise.
    “Shade!”
    He heard Marina’s shout, and almost at the same instant, a horrible jolt went through him. He tilted crazily, all his limbsnumb. He saw bits of things as he fell. The point of a metal stick, a Human face, the mesh of a net closing around him.
    He was in a metal trough.
    Like living things, a pair of fat, gloved hands surged toward him and took hold of him deftly, flipping him over onto his back and pinning him. The hands were cold, and had a pungent smell. From the other side of the trough, a second pair of gloves ballooned around him. Metal glinted sharply. Before he could even cry out in alarm, a blade sliced across his stomach, shaving off a neat patch of his fur. He stared at his pinkish flesh. Like a newborn, furless and weak.
    The hands pulled back, and with a whirring noise the floor of the trough moved. Through the glass top, he watched the two Humans slide away, and then two more Humans were sliding toward him.
    His heart was a gallop of fear. The floor stopped. He leaped to his feet and clawed desperately at the glass. He didn’t even leave scratches. With some difficulty he turned and faced the little walls that hemmed him in on either side. He slammed against them, and pain hammered through his shoulder. The barrier didn’t even shift. “Marina!” he called out. “Marina!”
    There was no answer. He hoped she’d escaped, and maybe was still hovering near the ceiling, watching helplessly.
    Gloved fingers closed around him, and he cried out in alarm. A second hand plunged toward him, and this one clutched a long, wickedly sharp dart, longer than a pine needle, long enough to pierce him through. Again he was pushed over onto his back.
    Even as he struggled he knew how futile it was: These hands that contained him could crush his bones if they wanted to; he could feel their blunt strength in every finger. He cried out as he saw the needle coming. Its tip bit into the bare patch on his stomach, but went no further. With