escape and three birds

I was a young boy who had been orphaned, but I was lucky enough to receive a scholarship to a good school. The school was very small, only one teacher, and initially I was encouraged and did very well. I made a very special friend—our bond would be lifelong. As time passed, the teacher developed a disliking for me; I was not sure why. I decided it would be best if I left the school. My friend and I had a very tearful farewell, but she understood that I was being treated cruelly and that I should go. I made my way down through the neglected back yard behind the school, retracing the steps that I had taken when I walked into the school grounds a year or so before. I knew that I had to go through a hole in the fence and walk for many miles to reach my home. Before I could reach the fence, a few people that I know gathered around a table in the yard. I did not want to alert them to my leaving, so I pretended that everything was alright, and went to see them. I found I had very little to say to them; I did not relate to them anymore. Three birds appeared, shaped much like chickens but with pretty heads like doves. Each bird was a cloud of candy-coloured feathers, puffs of fairy floss: an icing pink bird and a lemon sorbet bird alighted my right arm, their claws scratching me and their beaks grazing my skin as they nibbled my arm. The third bird, sugar white, was wrapped in fine chicken wire. I picked her up and held her in my left arm, cooing to her and telling her that it would be alright; she would be free soon. The birds disappeared and I went down the shed at the rear of the yard, to wash my hands and arms. I rubbed tea tree oil into the light scratches the birds made on my arms, ensuring they would not become infected. I waited for the right moment to make my escape.