Simon Thorn and the Wolf's Den Read Free

his watch. Ten minutes. If Colin wasn’t here in ten minutes, then he wouldn’t be coming at all.
    He tried to act casual, leaning against a street sign and pretending his palms weren’t sweating. He checked his watch again. Nine minutes and thirty seconds. Colin lived down the block—he had to come this way to get to school.
    A loud screech in the street made the hair stand up on the back of Simon’s neck, and for a moment he was sure the eagle had returned. He peered over the edge of the curb. Half a dozen rats clawed at what Simon first thought was a balled-up newspaper they’d picked out of the garbage. But when that lump screeched a second time, horror shot through him. The rats were attacking a pigeon.
    â€œHey—cut that out!” he cried, jumping into the street. “Leave him alone!”
    The rats froze. They took one look at Simon and darted into the sewer, leaving the injured pigeon on the pavement. Simon knelt beside it, all too aware that several people waiting to cross the street were staring at him, but he couldn’t leave the pigeon there to die.
    â€œAre you okay?” he asked.
    The pigeon cooed feebly. “Fly,” it said, and with effort, it spread its wings and took off into the sky. Simon straightened, trying to track where the pigeon went, but as soon as it rounded the corner, he lost sight of it.
    Over the next eight minutes, Simon witnessed several more fights between pigeons and rats: one in which a bunch of pigeons attacked a single rat, a second where the rats once again had the upper hand, and a third that featured an entire flock of pigeons facing off against a large gang of rats, taking up half the sidewalk and forcing everyone to walk around them. Simon did his best to break up each skirmish, but there was only so much he could do on his own. No one else seemed to notice the animals were acting strangely, and Simon heard the eagle’s warning echo in his ear. Maybe he should have stayed home.
    At last ten minutes were up, and still there was no sign of Colin. Simon’s heart sank. Maybe he had gone to school early, Simon reasoned as he crossed the street. Or maybe Colin would be waiting for him in Central Park.
    Darryl hated the park almost as much as he hated animals, and he had expressly forbidden Simon to go inside without him there—which naturally meant Simon sneaked inside as often as he could, especially during the summer while his uncle was at work. A thrill ran through him as he darted up a path that cut a full ten minutes from his walk to school. The rustling trees, the green grass, and the smell of damp dirt made his mood brighten, and, since the trail was nearly abandoned, he even dared to greet a few of the ducks meandering through the park.
    â€œI see you did not heed my warning, Simon Thorn.”
    Simon whirled around. Perched on a branch over his head was the golden eagle from his fire escape. “What was I supposed to do? It’s the first day of school.”
    â€œSome things are far more important.” The eagle flew down and settled on a bench featuring a bronze plaque. “You must come with me immediately, Simon—for your own safety.”
    â€œIn case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have wings,” said Simon. “How do you know my name?”
    â€œBecause,” the eagle said with a long-suffering sigh, “your mother told me.”
    Out of all the things the eagle could have said, this was the one Simon least expected. “You—you know my mother?”
    â€œIndeed,” said the eagle. “If you would come with me—”
    A snarl cut through the crisp air. Startled, the eagle took flight, and Simon cursed. “Wait—come back!”
    But the eagle had already disappeared. Muttering to himself, Simon glanced into the bushes for the source of the sound. Before he could spot anything, a chorus of snickers started behind him.
    â€œTalking to animals again,