Rain fell on Cubao the following morning. All of the birds inside the small loggia, on the compound, and in other homes warbled merrily as the raindrops hung like white sapphires from everything they could cling to. The residents of the compound bobbed to and fro on the driveway under colorful umbrellas and plastic coats, skipping over puddles and dwarf rivulets. Every time a drop of rain hit a surface, a rain fairy came into being. Haven't you noticed that each splash of rain is a tiny ballerina with crystal arms and legs and a white tutu leaping upward in the air? That is how rain fairies are born.
The little-boy shrike peered through the wires of the cage of the Divination Birds, where it kept residence since the old hermit agreed to take it home from the hospice and adopt it. It watched with much curiosity as a sparkly constellation of rain fairies ascended from the driveway, dance to the cage, and greeted it. "A most joyous day for you, little-boy shrike!" they sang. The young shrike had no idea what they meant, but it was aware that the rain fairies know everything, for, when rain comes, it tells always of the future and never of the past.
Sure enough, later that morning, the old hermit brought into the small loggia the young shrike's sister, the only sibling that it ever had in this world. The hermit had heeded the Temple Birds' advice, fetched the little-girl shrike from the water tower orphanage, and adopted it as well. The two siblings were happily reunited. Instead of putting them up in the Divination Birds' cage, the hermit gave them a tiny hut of their own in the northwest corner of the small loggia, beside the Nest 'N' Breakfast of the Healer Birds.
The hut had several rooms, one for each of the two shrikes, and two more plus a kitchen and diner that could they could operate as an inn. That way the shrikes could go on with their schooling while earning some money on the side. And so they moved into their charming new hut, thanking the hermit profusely.
Business was good for the two young shrikes. In mid-afternoon the white water mouse dropped into the small loggia once again, this time seeking shelter from the rain. It was quite disappointed that the Nest 'N' Breakfast was fully booked due to the inclement weather. It eagerly inquired of the shrikes whether it could stay the night. The shrikes were most delighted. So became the white water mouse the first patron of their little inn.
"Weather for ducks, not for mice," the water mouse sighed over a bowl of hot pebble soup. "I thank The Bird Goddess for your pretty new place."
"Our hut, the old hermit tells us, came all the way from the high mountains in the north," the little-girl shrike said. She looked at her brother. "Perhaps, we could call it 'The Compound Aerie'?"
"How about, 'Inn 'N' Outt'?" her brother suggested.
The water mouse considered. "The hermit rescued you from the hospice and the orphanage, and you rescued me from the rain. "How about, 'Shrikes' Shelter'?"
The young shrikes found the name extremely titillating. "Shrikes' Shelter' it is!" they exclaimed.
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