Myna Bird -

The thieves scrambled back, but then heard the unmistakable clack-clack of a guard’s heavy wooden staff hitting the cobblestones. Panicked, they turned to run, only to be met with the sharp, piercing screech of a sentry alarm.

Over the years, Manu had become a master of mimicry. He could perfectly imitate the high-pitched whistle of the tea seller, the rhythmic clicking of the silk looms, and the deep, booming laugh of the village elder. The villagers loved him, often leaving small bits of fruit as payment for his "performances". myna bird

"Stop right there!" boomed the voice of the village elder, coming from the darkness above. The thieves scrambled back, but then heard the

At midnight, when the thieves crept toward the shop, they were suddenly frozen by a sound they didn't expect. He could perfectly imitate the high-pitched whistle of

Lights flickered on in the surrounding houses. The real village elder emerged, rubbing his eyes, only to find the would-be thieves tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape.

The next morning, the village was alive with the story of the "Ghost of the Silver Market" that had chased away the robbers. Only the silk merchant knew the truth. He looked up at the eaves of his shop, where Manu sat bobbing his head and ruffling his feathers.