I grab my chair, ready to bat the birds back out again, back to wherever they came from, when they start to speak--all of them talking together in a deep voice, more like singing than talking. Like a choir, direct in my head--just like the crackle from the cockroach in the Yard, or the whistle from the spider in the Doctor's room, only this time there's hundreds of voices speaking at once. And I really can hear what they're saying. *Kester Jaynes, we have been sent to find you.* Excerpted from The Last Wild by Piers Torday All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.