At some point during that night, Ranulf fell asleep, snoring softly in the light of the fire. I continued sitting beside him, curled in a tight ball and concentrating hard. My mind stretched as far as it could go, but I still couldn’t find any Centaurs. I was listening so hard that I felt like Ranulf’s vague dreams were being shouted at me. Phoenix was thinking nothing understandable, as usual. They have a way of thinking that doesn’t connect very well with common thought, making them difficult to understand. Also, they don’t have the power of speech, which long ago made people think they were dumb animals. In reality, they are quite intelligent and wise, but they keep to themselves, communicating only occasionally through mind-readers and bird-gestures (bobbing or tilting their heads, occasionally squaking when they are annoyed).
There were only three Phoenix left now, thanks to excessive hunting. Phoenix feathers have extreme healing powers desired by many- but a Phoenix would never sacrafice a feather.