With a quick glance towards Manana, to ascertain there was still no danger in that direction, the fox began to make his move. Silently and extremely carefully, the predator circled downwind of the rabbits and began the stalk. Gradually, the fox moved ever closer to the rabbits, using when ever possible any cover available. Only twenty metres now separated hunter and as yet unknown to the rabbits, the hunted. The distance between both parties had reached fifteen metres, when one of the rabbits picked up his ears and began to sniff the air. The fox stopped his forward movement immediately, his front paw freezing in mid motion.

His head went slowly from left to right and back again, as he surveyed in more detail the area directly in front.

  The fox’s experience and natural cunning soon devised his attack strategy. The next step would be crucial if the fox was to succeed. He would now have to choose which of the rabbits to go for. Once he had made his choice, he would have to stick with it.

Both rabbits were still contentedly nibbling away at some foliage in a small clearing. Between the animals was roughly nine metres of broken scrub and rock with no further cover to conceal the fox’s movement.

  Manana seemed to sense what the fox was thinking. Having made his approach from the south, the fox, was now looking at his preys avenue of escape. To the north of the rabbits was a large boulder, blocking any chance of direct escape in that direction. East, was thirty metres or more of flat terrain. For a hare or an older rabbit, this would offer a reasonable chance, but for a youngster, it would be certain doom. By far the best hope for survival lay west. Here there was only five metres of open land to cross, before the clearing ended in a twisted mass of gorse and bramble thickets into which the rabbits could escape.

  Now the fox made his move. Never taking his eyes of his intended victim, he started moving forward again. He had reduced the gap to just under six metres, when the rabbits became alerted either through intuition or a sudden noise to the danger they were in.

  Manana felt her heart jump, at exactly the same time as the rabbits made their bid to escape the now charging fox. Both rabbits were making a frantic dash west towards the scrub. The wily fox, having anticipated the direction they chose correctly, was also heading towards the scrub.

  For a moment, Manana was convinced that both rabbits would make it. As the first rabbit dived into the cover, the fox hurled himself at the second one. With perfect precision, his jaws snapped around the neck of his victim, breaking it immediately.

  Manana let out her breath in a long gasp. Her mind was swimming, swirling around in a confusion of scenes and colours. She had felt a sudden sharp stab of pain in her neck, at precisely the same time as the fox had pounced. She had smelt the warm blood, and even the taste of it seemed to invade her senses.

  The strange sensation was short lived, as the fox trotted away to some undergrowth to enjoy his meal, Manana’s senses returned to the present. She was curious, as to how she became so involved in what happened around her. She had a feeling that it was all to do with the gifts everyone said she possessed, and if that was so, there was nothing she could do, except learning to understand it.

  There was no point in feeling sorry for the rabbit. Nature destroyed the weak in the wild, it had always been so, and would always be that way. What she must remember is that her duty lay in helping the injured, and not in interfering with the natural laws of life and death.

  It was then that she spotted what looked like an interesting herb, growing around the banks of a small pond. Walking over, she gave it a closer inspection. A small mischievous grin lined her face. She was familiar with this plant. A small smile played across her features. The smile widened into a broad grin of mischief, as she recalled her first encounter with this plant.

It was about three years ago when she had first come across this herb. It had been in the village of Alginet which was near Valencia. The clan had been working the oranges, on their journey down to Andalucia. As had happened today, her mother had sent her out to gather herbs. When walking along one of the man-made canals, she chanced along six such plants growing wild. She had taken some cuttings back to camp, meaning to ask her mother what they were. With one thing and another, she put them in a store wagon, then had forgotten about them.

  If it had not been for her mother having to attend an emergency, she may well have forgotten about them completely. As it happened, she was asked to brew some tea for a meeting of the Elders in her mothers absence. As she was told to hurry, she had dashed off, before asking what type of tea they wanted. A little worried that she would be chastised for negligence, if she returned without the finished product. She panicked.

  Grabbing a handful of herbs, she thought were dried nettles, she had stuffed them into the water already boiling in the cauldron. It was then she noticed that the aroma was not what it should have been. It was a pleasant smell, nether the less, and she decided that it would do.

  The consequences of Manana’s tea-making efforts still caused amusement and smiles around the camp today. At the time of course, it wasn’t found to be very amusing at all, especially to the recipients of the tea.

  At first the Elders and their wives made no more than a passing comment about its strong, yet not unpleasant taste. After a few more cups each, they were quite unable to comment on anything. They mostly sat starry eyed, gazing into the open fire before them. When anyone did speak, the voice was slurred and incoherent. On one occasion, when asked about a relatively serious problem, some Elders burst into fits of uncontrolled laughter. Deciding the meeting was going nowhere, the Elders abandoned their discussion for the evening.

  The subsequent inquiry into the affair, traced the problem to the tea they had drunken. Which in turn brought the problem back to Manana. Manana, it seemed, had found some Moors-Dream, a narcotic plant, brought to Spain by the Moroccan invaders centuries earlier. The Moors had used (and still do) the plant as a substitute for alcohol.

  Manana had been severely punished and ordered to destroy the remaining leaves, despite her claims that she believed the plant had good medical properties. Her protests were in vain. The Gypsies hated the Moors as fiercely as the Spaniards. They wanted nothing to do with anything Moorish. So destroyed it was, with orders it should never be brought in the camp again.  She thought it a shame, that what was obviously a very beneficial herb medically, should be ignored due to ancient animosities.

  Still, she was not going to incur the wrath of the Elders, or shame her parents by disobeying their orders. With a whimsical look once more at the plants, she continued in the direction of the Silbido pass.

  As she made her way along the goat track, her eyes continually searching the surroundings for anything useful. She was suddenly halted once more. Overhead had come the cry of a bird. Her instincts told her there was anguish in that cry. Looking up, she saw the Great Eagle immediately. It was circling by the Silbido pass, crying out occasionally.

  Manana was entranced. What a magnificent creature, even so high up it looks huge, thought Manana. As she watched, the Eagle suddenly plunged down, letting out a sharp screech. Just as suddenly it broke its dive and glided back up. She watched as the Eagle repeated this manoeuvre a few times in different places. Manana was a little confused. She had seen her fair share of raptors, and even seen a Great Eagle on a previous trip to the valley. But never had she seen a bird acting in such a strange manner. What is it doing she wondered. “It’s searching for something”! Manana said to herself loudly.

  Now the Eagle was circling ever closer to where she stood watching. As it passed directly above her. Manana had to stretch her neck to keep it in view. For a split second, their eyes made contact.

  Manana, felt a cold spasm of fear flow through her. She had seen anger in those eyes. Anger and it seemed sadness. She knew well enough the reputation these birds commanded. Their strength and ferocity was well recorded. They could kill a grown man without to much trouble it was said.

She had never heard that they killed humans for food. But many years ago, when the valley held more birds, stories had been told of young children disappearing. There was even one farmer who had claimed he had found the bones of a child, below the nest of these birds. Like the rest of the Gypsies, Manana did not really believe these stories. The Gypsies put these tales down to the natural hatred the farmers had for the Eagles.

  As the Eagle flew further away, the fear Manana had felt, was once more replaced by her amazement at the magnificence of these creatures. Surely, she wondered, the Earth can never have seen such beautiful and graceful animals, if only we could learn to live alongside one another. With these thoughts in her mind, she watched as the Eagle grew smaller in the distance.

  Tearing herself away from the bird, she once more continued on her way. After about another thirty minutes of walking, she arrived at a large pond surrounded by an abundance of plant life. This was a good a place as any to start looking, she thought. Kneeling down, she cupped her hands and scooped some water up to splash on her face. The iciness of the water made her shudder. Lifting her head, she held her face into the sun, allowing its weak heat help to dry the skin.

She realised it was beginning to get late, it had taken her far longer than she anticipated to walk this far. In a few hours, the sun would start to sink behind the mountains, turning the valley into twilight. This would make her walk home more hazardous. She told herself, that she would spend a bit more time looking for herbs, then she would head home.