Then he stood up, his figure defiant, and took long, deep breaths, his heart now beating smoothly and easily, as if it had been put to no painful test.

Still no sound of a foe, and he thought that perhaps the pursuit had died down, but he knew enough of the warriors of the woods to make sure, before he resumed a flight that would expose him in the open.
He crept back into the thicket, burying himself deep, and was careful not to break a twig or brush a leaf which to the unerring eyes of those who followed could mark where he was.

Hidden well, but yet lying where he could see, he turned his gaze back to the bird.

It was now pouring out an unbroken volume of song as it swayed on a twig, like a leaf shaken in the wind.

Its voice was thrillingly sweet, and it seemed mad with joy, as its tiny throat swelled with the burden of its melody.