Midway between a certain blue lake and a deep forest there once stood a cottage, called by its owner "The Rookery."
The forest shut out the sunlight and scowled upon the ground, breaking with shadows every ray that fell, until only a few little pieces lay scattered about. But the broad lake invited all the rays to come and rest upon her, so that sometimes she shone from shore to shore, and the sun winked and blinked above her, as though dazzled by his own reflection. The cottage, which was very small, had sunny windows and dark windows. Only from the roof could you see the mountains beyond, where the light crept up in the morning and down in the evening, turning all the brooks into living silver as it passed.
But something brighter than sunshine used often to look from the cottage into the forest, and something even more gloomy than shadows often glowered from its windows upon the sunny lake. One was the face of little Ruky Lynn; and the other was his sister's when she felt angry or ill-tempered.
They were orphans, Cora and Ruky, living alone in the cottage with an old uncle. Cora-or
"Cor," as Ruky called her-was nearly sixteen years old, but her brother had seen the forest turn yellow only four times. She was, therefore, almost mother and sister in one. The little fellow was her companion night and day.
Together they ate and slept, and - when Cora was not at work in the cottage-together they rambled in the wood, or floated in their little skiff upon the lake. Ruky had bright, dark eyes, and the glossy blackness of his hair made his cheeks look even rosier than they were. He had funny ways for a boy, Cora thought. The quick, bird-like ierks of his raven-black head, his stately baby gait, and his habit of pecking at his food, as she called it, often made his sister laugh. Young as he was, the little fellow had learned to mount to the top of a low-branching tree near the cottage, though he could not always get down alone. Sometimes when, perched in the thick foliage, he would scream, "Cor! Cor!
Come, help me down!" his sister would answer, as she ran out laughing, "Yes, little Crow! I'm coming."
Perhaps it was because he reminded her of a crow that Cora called him her little bird. This was when she was good-natured and willing to let him see how much she loved him. But in her cloudy moments, as the uncle called them, Cora was another girl. Everything seemed ugly to her, or out of tune. Even Ruky was a trial; and, instead of giving him a kind word, she would scold and grumble until he would steal from the cottage door, and, jumping lightly from the door-step, seek the shelter of his tree.
Once safely perched among its branches he knew she would finish her work, forget her illhumor, and be quite ready, when he cried
"Cor! Cor!" to come from the cottage with a cheery, "Yes, little Crow! I'm coming! I'm coming!"
No one could help loving Ruky, with his quick, affectionate ways; and it seemed that Ruky, in turn, could not help loving every person and thing around him. He loved his silent old uncle, the bright lake, the cool forest, and even his little china cup with red berries painted upon it.
But more than all, Ruky loved his golden-haired sister, and the great dog, who would plunge into the lake at the mere pointing of his chubby little finger. In fact, that finger and the commanding baby voice were "law" to Nep at any time.
Nep and Ruky often talked together, and though one used barks and the other words, there was a perfect understanding between them. Woe to the straggler that dared to rouse Nep's wrath, and woe to the bird or rabbit that ventured too near! -those great teeth snapped at their prey without even the warning of a growl.
11 answers
The cottage known as "The Rookery" was a cozy refuge for Ruky and Cora, nestled between the vibrant blue of the lake and the dark, foreboding depths of the forest. Each element of their surroundings reflected their lives: the glistening lake, a source of joy and warmth, contrasted sharply with the towering trees that harbored shadows and simplicity.
Ruky, the young boy with the heart of a bird, embodied the spirit of both the lake and the woods. His cheerful disposition was often a beacon of light for Cora, who, despite her love for him, sometimes found herself mired in darker moods. Yet even in her challenging moments, Cora’s bond with Ruky remained profound, characterized by a blend of nurturing and frustration. The simplicity of their lives, lived in the rhythm of nature, afforded them both joy in their adventures and challenges in their emotional landscape.
Nep, the faithful dog, represented another layer of the family dynamic. His loyalty to Ruky was instinctive, a silent pact formed through gestures and commands that transcended language. Together, they formed a triad of companionship—Cora, Ruky, and Nep—navigating the tumultuous waters of orphanhood with a sense of unity and resilience.
As Ruky climbed the branches of his beloved tree, he found solace and adventure—his sister often laughed at his antics, delighting in the small joys of everyday life. Yet, it was during those times when shadows loomed larger in Cora’s little world that Ruky would find refuge among the branches, waiting for an embrace of affection from his sister, for she was both his sun and his storm.
Through shared experiences, laughter and scoldings, Ruky learned to navigate the complex emotions of love, frustration, and the desire for acceptance. Cora, growing into her role of an older sister, experienced the heaviness of responsibility; the gentle, soft calls of "little Crow" reminded Ruky of their bond and his sister’s affection, even when she faltered.
The days flowed with the simplicity of childhood: floating on the lake, exploring the woods, and sharing the warmth of their small cottage. It was a life touched by beauty, both atmospheric and emotional, shaped by the interplay of light and shadow—the essence of their youthful existence. Amidst these natural wonders, they continuously forged their identities, collectively crafting memories that formed the foundation of an indelible bond, resilient through the storms of life they faced together.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Ruky, jerking his head saucily from side to side; "Nep says 'No!'"Nep was shut out of the cottage for his pains, and poor Ruky was undressed, with many a hasty jerk and pull.
"You hurt, Cor!" he said, plaintively. "I'm going to take off my shoes my own self."
"No, you're not," cried Cora, almost shaking him; and when he cried she called him naughty, and said if he did not stop he should have no supper. This made him cry all the more, and Cora, feeling in her angry mood that he deserved severe punishment, threw away his supper and put him to bed. Then all that could be heard were Ruky's low sobs and the snappish clicks of Cora's needles, as she sat knitting, with her back to him.
He could not sleep, for his eyelids were scalded with tears, and his plaintive "Cor! Cor!" had reached his sister's ears in vain. She never once looked up from those gleaming knitting-needles, nor even gave him his good-night kiss. It grew late. The uncle did not return. At last Cora, sulky and weary, locked the cottage door, blew out her candle, and lay down beside her brother.
The poor little fellow tried to win a forgiving word, but she was too ill-natured to grant it. In vain he whispered, "Cor, Cor!" He even touched her hand over and over again with his lips, hoping she would turn toward him, and, with a loving kiss, murmur, as usual, "Good night, little bird."
Instead of this, she jerked her arm angrily away, saying:
"Oh, stop your pecking and go to sleep! I wish you were a crow in earnest, and then I'd have some peace."After this, Ruky was silent. His heart drooped within him as he wondered what this "peace" was that his sister wished for so often, and why he must go away before it could come to her.
Soon, Cora, who had rejoiced in the sudden calm, heard a strange fluttering. In an instant she saw by the starlight a dark object circle once or twice in the air above her, then dart suddenly through the open window.
Astonished that Ruky had not shouted with delight at the strange visitor, or else clung to her neck in fear, she turned to see if he had fallen asleep.
No wonder that she started up, horror-stricken,
-Ruky was not there! His empty place was still warm; perhaps he had slid softly from the bed. With trembling haste she lighted the candle, and peered into every corner. The boy was not to be found!
Then those fearful words rang in her ears:
"I wish you were a crow in earnest!"
Cora rushed to the door, and, with straining gaze, looked out into the still night. "Ruky! Ruky!" she screamed.
There was a slight stir in the low-growing tree.
"Ruky, darling, come back!"
"Caw, caw!" answered a harsh voice from the tree. Something black seemed to spin out of it, and then, in great sweeping circles, sailed upward, until finally it settled upon one of the loftiest trees in the forest. "Caw, caw!" it screamed, fiercely.
The girl shuddered, but, with outstretched arms, cried out:
"Oh, Ruky, if it is you, come back to poor Cor!"
"Caw, caw!" mocked hundreds of voices, as a shadow like a thunder-cloud rose in the air. It was an immense flock of crows. She could distinguish them plainly in the starlight, circling higher and higher, then lower and lower, until, with their harsh "Caw, caw!" they sailed far off into the night. "Oh, Ruky, answer me!" she cried.
Nep growled, the forest trees whispered softly together, and the lake, twinkling with stars, sang a lullaby as it lifted its weary little waves upon the shore: there was no other sound.
It seemed that daylight never would come; but at last the trees turned slowly from black to green, and the lake put out its stars, one by one, and waited for the new day.
Cora, who had been wandering restlessly in every direction, now went weeping into the cottage. "Poor boy!" she sobbed; "he had no supper." Then she scattered breadcrumbs near the doorway, hoping that Ruky would come for them; but only a few timid little songsters hovered about, and, while Cora wept, picked up the food daintily, as though it burned their bills.
Cora’s heart felt heavy in the silence of the cottage as she tried to make sense of her little brother’s sudden disappearance. Her initial anger had morphed into a deep well of regret, flooding her with guilt as she recalled her harsh words. "I wish you were a crow in earnest," she had thoughtlessly exclaimed, and now, somehow, Ruky had managed to vanish into the night.
Panic bubbled within her, urging her out of the cottage and into the dark embrace of the forest. Ruky's laughter seemed to echo in her memory, a stark contrast to the present stillness around her. "What if he really had transformed into a bird?" she thought, shivering at the absurdity yet feeling a flicker of hope beneath her despair. All she wanted was for him to return, for the lightness he always brought into her life.
As morning light began to creep slowly into the world, Cora maneuvered through the underbrush, each crackling leaf beneath her feet igniting a sense of urgency. The soft chirps of the waking birds surrounded her, but they only deepened her yearning for Ruky's cheerful spirit. She called his name over and over, her voice blending with the calls of the birds, hoping one of them would respond with his beloved laughter.
The crumbs she had scattered near the cottage went untouched by Ruky; instead, forest creatures shyly approached, confused but undeniably cautious, as if feeling the weight of her sorrow. The remorseful tears that streamed down her cheeks felt like an offering to the frustrating emptiness surrounding her—a silent plea for the return of her playful little brother.
Nep, ever loyal, stayed by her side, a silent sentinel as she searched through the grove. His nose twitched, instinctively aware of the unnatural silence that enveloped them. The bond between Cora and Nep strengthened the depths of her despair; in his presence, she could feel the reassurance she so desperately sought, yet the bond could not fill the void Rooky’s absence left behind.
Cora climbed onto a low-branching tree, suppressing a shiver of trepidation as she gazed over the landscape that had been both a playground and sanctuary. She was struck by how vast the world seemed now without Ruky beside her. "We roam these woods together, you silly bird," she whispered, urging herself to believe that he would return—their adventures had always interwoven with echoes of laughter, even in the shadows of her darkest moods.
As she witnessed the sun gradually break free from the horizon, illuminating the forest in golden rays, renewed determination ignited within her. Ruky belonged in this world—and so did she. He could not just disappear, she insisted to herself, driven by love that now quelled her earlier frustrations. Now her heart was fixed solely on finding him, a mission imbued with the essence of sisterly love.
With each call for Ruky, a sense of longing intermingled with hope unfurled within Cora’s chest. She began to hum the melody that was their favorite, a little tune they would echo back and forth during their forays into the woods. "Cor! Cor!" he would typically chirp, his unique lilt spiraling into the air, and she would respond, "Yes, little Crow! I'm coming!"—each note now a reminder of her affection, devotion, and the longing to reunite.
The trees seemed to listen, their leaves rustling softly as Cora pressed on. For every careful step, every whisper of his name, she was steadfast in her belief: love could transcend even the wildest transformation, turning sorrow into hope, such that, in her heart, she knew he would return. As the sun climbed higher, she followed the single path toward the low-gathering clouds, where perhaps Ruky’s spirit was circling, urging her to find him once more. "I’m here, Ruky," she spoke softly, determination filling her voice, "I’ll find you. Just wait for me, little Crow."
When she reached forth her hand, though there were no crows among them, and called
"Ruky! Ruky!" they scattered and flew away in an instant. Next she went to the steep-roofed barn, and, bringing out an apronful of grain, scattered it all around his favorite tree. Before long, to her great joy, a flock of crows came by. They spied the grain, and soon were busily picking it up with their short, feathered bills. One even came near the mound where she sat. Unable to restrain herself longer, she fell upon her knees with an imploring cry:
"Oh, Ruky! is this you?"
Instantly the entire flock set up an angry "caw," and, surrounding the crow, who was hopping closer and closer to Cora, hurried him off, until they all looked like mere specks against the summer sky.
Every day, rain or shine, she scattered the grain, trembling with dread lest Nep should leap among the hungry crows, and perhaps kill her "little bird" first. But Nep knew better; he never stirred when the noisy crowd settled around the cottage, excepting once, when one of them pounced upon his back. Then he started up, wagging his tail, and barking with uproarious delight. The crow flew off in a flutter, and did not venture near him again. Poor Cora felt sure that this could be no other than Ruky. Oh, if she only could have caught him then! Perhaps with kisses and prayers she might have won him back to Ruky's shape; but now the chance was lost.
There was no one to help her; for the nearest neighbor dwelt miles away, and her uncle had not yet returned.
After a-while she remembered the little cup, and, filling it with grain, stood it upon a grassy mound. When the crows came, they fought and struggled for its contents with many an angry cry. One of them made no effort to seize the grain. He was content to peck at the berries painted upon its sides, as he hopped joyfully around it again and again. Nep lay very quiet.
Only the tip of his tail twitched with an eager, wistful motion. But Cora sprang joyfully toward the bird.
"It is Ruky!" she cried, striving to catch it. Alas! the cup lay shattered beneath her hand, as, with a taunting "caw, caw," the crow joined its fellows and flew away.
Next, gunners came. They were looking for other birds; but they hated the crows, Cora knew, and she trembled for Ruky. She heard the sharp crack of fowling-pieces in the forest, and shuddered whenever Nep, pricking up his ears, darted with an angry howl in the direction of the sound. She knew, too, that her uncle had set traps for the crows, and it seemed to her that the whole world was against the poor birds, plotting their destruction.
As the days passed, Cora found herself lost in her quest to bring Ruky back, her heart heavy with anxiety as the crows came and went. The cottage that had once felt like a sanctuary now seemed filled with uncertainty, each sound echoing the void left by her brother. The joy of their playful afternoons by the lake had been overshadowed by her desperate longing to see Ruky’s face, hear his laughter, and feel his presence beside her once more.
Each morning, she awoke with the same determination, pouring her hope into the scattered grain at the base of his favorite tree. The crows came by in droves, their raucous calls filling the air, yet every fleeting shadow of movement that could be Ruky only heightened her sense of dread. She watched as the feathery creatures honed in on her offering, but none showed a hint of Ruky's spirited charm or familiarity. Instead, they were a wild mass, fierce and unyielding, yet somehow, she felt an inexplicable connection to them.
The little china cup she cherished, decorated with red berries, had become an offering—a desperate plea to the unseen magic of the world that she longed for. The sight of the crow that had danced around it stirred a flicker of hope deep within her, igniting the belief that maybe Ruky was still fighting to return to her. The shattering of the cup was akin to the breaking of her heart, as though the universe had denied her yet another chance to reconnect with him.
With every passing day, the specter of danger loomed larger. Rumors of gunners prowling the woods filled her with dread. The sharp reports of their guns echoed like thunder, reminding her that there were those who would hurt the very creatures through which she sought to communicate with Ruky. The realization that her uncle, though not present, had set traps for the crows filled her with confusion and fear. Could he also be seeking Ruky, oblivious to the bond they shared? How could she protect him when the world around her seemed so intent on his destruction?
Cora's heart raced every time she heard the crack of a gun, imagining Ruky fluttering away, injured or worse. She clung tightly to her hope, whispering prayers to the quiet skies above, which seemed indifferent to her plight. "Please, let him be safe. Let him come home," she would murmur, kneeling upon the ground, looking up into the boughs of the trees with pleading eyes.
Nep remained her steadfast companion, acting as a buffer to her spiraling thoughts. He could sense her turmoil and offered her quiet company, the rhythmic thumping of his tail against the floor a comforting reminder that she was not alone. Yet, despite his loyalty, he was oblivious to the heartache that churned within her. Every interaction with the crows was a bittersweet reminder of what had been lost. If only she could understand their chatter better, perhaps they could offer some hint or reassurance about Ruky.
One day, as the sun hung low in the sky and painted the leaves with gold, a darker shadow flitted through the clearing, catching her eye. A solitary crow, distinctly smaller than the rest, landed nearby. With bated breath, Cora watched it, her heart pounding in her chest. The crow’s movements were tentative, almost playful, as it hopped closer to the mound of grain she had laid out. “Ruky?” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.
The crow peered up at her, and for a moment, their eyes locked in an unspoken understanding. There was something familiar about the way it moved, a rhythm that reminded her of her brother. She reached tentatively toward it, urging it closer, hoping against hope that this was him.
But just as she began to breathe a sigh of relief, the distant sound of gunfire punctured the air, sending the crow into an avian frenzy, wings flapping wildly. “No!” Cora cried, stretching out her hand in disbelief as it rose into the air. “Come back!” But the crow joined its brethren in the sky, disappearing into the expanse, leaving her alone once more.
Despair washed over her, mixing with the remnants of hope that had motivated her every action. In that moment alone with the setting sun, Cora realized she could not give up; she had to protect the crows, to confront the dangers they faced together, and to honor the bond with Ruky that still lingered in the air. Cora made her way back to the cottage that night, her heart filled with resolve, knowing she would stand guard against the world that threatened to engulf her dear little brother in darkness. “I will find you, Ruky,” she whispered into the gathering night, “no matter what.”
Time flew by. The leaves seemed to flash into bright colors and fall off almost in a day. Frost and snow came. Still the uncle had not returned, or, if he had, she did not know it. Her brain was bewildered. She knew not whether she ate or slept. Only the terrible firing reached her ears, or that living black cloud came and went with its ceaseless "caw."
At last, during a terrible night of wind and storm, Cora felt that she must go forth and seek her poor bird. "Perhaps he is freezing- dying!" she cried, springing frantically from the bed, and casting her long cloak over her night-dress.
In a moment, she was trudging barefooted through the snow. It was so deep she could hardly walk, and the sleet was driving into her face; still she kept on, though her numbed feet seemed hardly to belong to her. All the way she was praying in her heart; promising never, never to be passionate again, if she only could find her bird - not Ruky the boy, but whatever he might be. She was willing to accept her punishment. Soon a faint cry reached her ear.
With eager haste, she peered into every fold of the drifted snow. A black object caught her eye. It was a poor storm-beaten crow, lying there benumbed and stiff.
For Ruky's sake she folded it closely to her bosom, and plodded back to the cottage. The fire cast a rosy light on its glossy wing as she entered, but the poor thing did not stir. Softly stroking and warming it, she wrapped the frozen bird in soft flannel and blew into its open mouth. Soon, to her great relief, it revived, and even swallowed a few grains of wheat.
Cold and weary, she cast herself upon the bed, still folding the bird to her heart. "It may be Ruky! It is all I ask," she sobbed. "I dare not ask for more."Suddenly she felt a peculiar stirring. The crow seemed to grow larger. Then, in the dim light, she felt its feathers pressing lightly against her cheek. Next, something soft and warm wound itself tenderly about her neck, and she heard a sweet voice saying:
"Don't cry, Cor, — I'll be good."
She started up. It was, indeed, her own darling!
The starlight shone into the room. Lighting her candle, she looked at the clock.
It was just two hours since she had uttered those cruel words! Sobbing, she asked: "Have I been asleep, Ruky, dear?"
"I don't know, Cor. Do people cry when they're asleep?"
"Sometimes, Ruky," clasping him very close.
"Then you have been asleep. But Cor, please don't let Uncle whip Ruky." "No, no, my little bird -I mean, my brother. Good night, darling!" "Good night."
In the dim candlelight, Cora felt the warmth of Ruky’s presence envelop her like a protective blanket, dissolving the chill that had settled deep within her heart. The fear and desolation of the past weeks seemed to fade away, replaced by the sheer joy of knowing that he was once again beside her. No longer just a crow shrouded in mystery, he was her Ruky—her little brother, full of spirit and life.
The events of that dreadful night might never fully leave her, but they felt like a distant echo as she held him close. She brushed her fingers against his hair, marveling at how soft it felt, as she had done countless times before. “You’re back!” she whispered in disbelief, pulling him tighter against her chest. “I was so scared for you. I thought—I thought I’d lost you.”
Ruky nestled against her, warmth radiating from his small body as the memories of her anger seemed to dissipate in the tender moment they shared. “I came back, Cor. I told you I would be good,” he said softly, the innocence of his words stirring something deep within her.
Cora’s heart swelled with gratitude as Ruky’s presence dispelled the dark clouds that had hung over her since that fateful transformation. Every trial she faced, the quiet solitude of the cottage, the piercing sounds of guns in the forest, and that endless cacophony of crows—all of it melted away as she focused on the sweet essence of her brother.
“Of course you will be good, Ruky. We’ll never be apart again,” she reassured him, the sound of their laughter mingling with the gentle crackle of the fire. “I’ll take care of you. We’ll figure this out together.” She made a silent vow to herself, a promise that they’d shield one another against the world’s cruelty and keep their bond strong, no matter the circumstantial darkness that threatened their happiness.
As she looked back at the crow she had rescued, nestled snugly in a flannel cloth at the foot of the bed, she felt an overwhelming sense of connection. Perhaps in that eerie transformation, when Ruky had taken flight, they had both learned something invaluable about love and support, resilience and sacrifice. They had witnessed each other’s struggles in a way that transcended their prior understandings.
“Cor, is my old home—” Ruky began, but Cora quickly interrupted, cupping his face in her hands, her heart aching at the thought of his uncertainty.
“Your home is with me, Ruky. You belong here, in this cottage, by the lake and the forest, with Nep and me. No magic can change that.”
As they exchanged reassuring smiles, the world outside began to calm. The storm that had raged earlier seemed to dissipate, leaving a serene hush in its wake. Frost laced the windows like lacework, refracting the pale moonlight into glowing patterns inside the cottage. Cora filled the empty silence with tales of their past adventures, reminding Ruky of their shared laughter and the times they had floated on the sparkling surface of the lake.
Before long, Ruky’s eyes began to flutter, sleep creeping in as he succumbed to the comfort of their reunion. “Cor,” he mumbled sleepily, “can I sleep with you?”
“Always, little bird. Always,” she replied, guiding him under the warm covers, her heart swelling with a mix of protectiveness and boundless love. She wrapped her arms around him, cherishing the moment as though it were a fragile treasure, knowing too well how easily it could slip away.
With Ruky beside her, she let her own eyelids grow heavy, lulled by the soft rhythm of his breaths. This night would become a memory etched in her heart—a gentle reminder of the love that had persevered through trials, the kind of bond that could weather any storm. And tonight, as she surrendered to sleep, a renewed hope blossomed within her—the firm belief that no matter the darkness that threatened, together they could rise above it.
Use the story to answer the question.
How do Cora's motivations advance the plot?
(1 point)
Her desire to be a better sister
• leads her to take actions that resolve the plot.
Her desire to punish her brother for
• annoying her sets the main plot in motion.
Her desire to get her brother back
• leads to actions that resolve the plot.
• Her desire to get her brother back sets the main plot in motion.
Cora's motivations advance the plot primarily through her desire to get her brother back, which leads to actions that resolve the plot. Throughout the story, Cora's determination to find and rescue Ruky, especially when she believes he has transformed into a crow, drives her to take significant risks and actions. These efforts ultimately lead to their reunion and the restoration of their bond, resolving the central conflict of the narrative. While her desire to be a better sister is present, it is her urgent need to reclaim Ruky that propels the story forward.
Thus, the most accurate statement is: "Her desire to get her brother back leads to actions that resolve the plot." Additionally, her desire to get her brother back also sets the main plot in motion, as her initial harshness towards him triggers his transformation and subsequent disappearance.
Use the story to answer the question.
What makes Cora complex?
(1 point)
Her desire for her brother to turn
• back into a human child shows that she has grown.
She is in charge of her brother and
• must make decisions that will be good for them both.
She is part of every scene in the
• story and has the most speaking parts.
Her love for her brother and
• annoyance at his behavior cause conflicting motivations.
Cora is complex primarily because her love for her brother and annoyance at his behavior cause conflicting motivations. Throughout the story, she experiences a range of emotions—from deep affection and concern for Ruky to frustration and anger due to his behavior. This internal conflict drives her actions and shapes her character development. Her desire to protect Ruky eventually overcomes her initial need to punish him, demonstrating her growth and the depth of her feelings. This combination of love and annoyance creates a rich complexity in her character, making her relatable and multifaceted.
