“You know,” Keysea said, “People never look up when they’re walking.”

“Hmmm?” Tess wasn’t paying attention, not really. She was still thinking about whether or not she should have haggled more over the sack of seeds she had over her shoulder from the market.

“Look up.” Keysea pointed to the tree in front of them. “What do you see?”

Tess raised an eyebrow at her friend before looking up at the tree. It was still just a skeleton, an outline of a tree. It was too early yet for the first buds of spring, even if the sky had finally cleared out the grey storm clouds. In the topmost branches of the tree were black specks that could be mistaken for buds, but instead were birds. She sighed.

“Nothing but a flock of birds.”

Keysea shook her head. “Not just any birds. Listen.”

The birds’ high, wispy call cut through the noise that flowed out of the town and the faraway sound of a train whistle. It sounded mournful and hopefully all at the same time. It made Tess shiver and Keysea smile.

“Those are harbingers.” Keysea made the sign for luck as they passed under the tree.

“Harbingers of what?”

Keysea shrugged. “Depends on what they see and what you hear in their call.”

Tess shivered again. “What do you hear?”

“The changes of spring.”

Tess didn’t reply as she walked alongside Keysea back to the crossroads where they parted to make the last half-mile journey alone to their families’ respective farms. But Tess thought she heard Keysea whistling as she watched her retreating back and it sounded like a bird’s call from high up in the trees.