The blue jays and cardinals of Stone-Run Forest have turned against each other. According to legend, only Swordbird, son of the Great Spirit, has the power to conquer evil and restore peace to the land. But is he real or just a myth? Can Swordbird arrive in time to save the forest... or will it be too late?

Twelve-year-old author Nancy Yi Fan has woven a captivating tale about the birds of Stone-Run Forest and the heroism, courage, and resourcefulness in their quest for peace.

The Red and the Blue...

Just north of Stone—Run Forest, a war party of cardinals glided in and out of the shadows as the light of dawn slowly slipped into the sky. They traveled swiftly and low, each grimly wielding a sword in one claw. The leader, Flame—back, a sturdy cardinal distinguished by his larger and more powerful wings, reviewed their plan of attack.

"Circle the camp, wait for my signal, attack. Simple. Everybird understand?" Crested heads bobbed in answer.

The idea of violence frightened a young cardinal, who wrapped his claw tightly around his sword hilt. "Flame—back, are the blue jays awake? If they are, we'll die! I don't want to die!"

Flame—back looked at the blurred land in the distance and, flapping his strong wings a couple of times, tried to reassure his band.

"The blue jays don't wake up so early, and nobird's going to die. Nobird's going to kill. Hear? We just scare and attack. No hurting." Pausing, Flame—back added in a more comforting tone, "And we must find our eggs. We can't let anybird, anybird at all, steal our unhatched offspring." The speech calmed his band, especially the youngster, whose wail dwindled to a sniff and a sob.

The cardinals were deep in thought. They all knew that Flame—back was right. There were no sounds except their wings, whooshing and rustling against the wind as they flew—red figures against a blue sky. They soared over the Appleby Hills and across the Silver Creek. Dewdrops trembled on delicate blades of grass; dandelions and daisies peeped over their leaves to greet the sun. Near the fringe of the forest, beech trees stood still, and only the morning breeze occasionally disturbed them. Those trees were ancient ones, covered with moss and vines, leaning over to touch branches with one another. Small creeks gurgled gently as they rippled along, under mists that covered the ground. But the cardinals were in no mood to enjoy such things. They were on a mission. The war party made a sharp turn along a boulder and flew over the Line, the border between the territories of the blue jays and the cardinals.

As they crossed, a twinge of uneasiness ran along every cardinal's spine. They were entering forbidden territory. But about a month before, it hadn't been. A month before, the cardinals and blue jays had been good friends. Their hatchlings had played with one another; they had fished for shrimp and hunted for crickets together. But things were different now. With a brisk flap of his wings Flame—back led his cardinals through a twist in a gap in the tangled trees.

"Lively now, lads. You all know what we're here for, so get ready. Fleet—tail, branch off with a third of our forces and go around to the left. You, take another third and go to the right. The rest, follow me. Swift and silent, good and low, friends."

In a flash the cardinals separated into three groups and departed into the shadows. After flying through a ghostly fog, the cardinals saw their destination. Eyes glistened and heartbeats quickened. With a few hushed words, the cardinals swiftly got into positions surrounding the blue jay camp. No feathers rustled. They sat as silent and rigid as statues, waiting for Flame—back's signal to attack.

The cardinals' target was ten budding oak trees hidden behind a tall, thick wall of pines. The oaks grew in a small meadow of early spring flowers and clover sparkling with dew. The pine tree border was so dense that one might fly right past it and not see the oak trees inside. It was indeed cleverly hidden. Those oaks were the home of the Bluewingle tribe.

It was very quiet. Occasionally a swish of feathers and breathing broke the silence. A strange long—limbed tree protruded from the center of the grove. In the branches of this...

Nancy Yi Fan spent the first part of her childhood in China, where she was born in 1993. When she was seven years old, Nancy moved with her parents to the United States and attended American schools through fifth grade. Birds, a lifelong passion of the author's, provided the inspiration for Swordbird. After awaking from a vivid dream about birds at war while simultaneously wrestling with her feelings about terrorism and September 11, Nancy wrote Swordbird as a way to convey her message of peace to the world. She currently lives in Florida with her parents.