The messenger

Opening my eyes slowly, I heard a painful cry.
It took me a moment to realize where I was. The cry didn't stop. I had an unpleasant feeling in my stomach. It sounded like someone was being tortured just outside my tent. Slowly and as quietly as I could, I moved toward the entrance of my tent my heart beating uncontrolably. The cry went on again. It was very close. I was terrified but I could not hear any other suspicious or odd sounds. Maybe someone needed my help, maybe I was in danger, maybe I was next. Carefully I poked my head out of the tent. To my surprise there was nothing there. I mean, my campsite looked just the way I left it before I turned in last night. There were no humans or animals around and everything looked normal. Suddenly, the cry went off once more and as I turned my head in the direction of the cry I finally spotted it. A small grey bird sitting on a branch. I breathed out a deep breath and realized that I'd been holding my breath the whole morning. I smiled at my own foolishness. This is what happens to people who go camping once in ten years. The little bird curiously looked at me, made one more horrifying cry and few away. I started my morning routine still amused. Little did I know about birds and that echoed later, when I had to gather all my knowledge about the wildlife stored in my brain, to get home alive. It all could have been avoided had I recognized the mockingbird.