Startled by the nightmare, Pelaio ran to Elisenda, his wife, who was then applying a bandage to the sick child's forehead, and Pelaio called her to the back corner of the yard. They stood in silence, stunned, looking at the fallen body. The old man was dressed in rags. There were only a few faded hairs on his bald, shiny head, very few teeth on his wrinkled face, and if he had once had any splendor, now the pitiful state of this great-great-grandfather of the storm crow had completely destroyed that splendor. His huge bird of prey wings—dirty, half-feathered—were tangled in the mud as if forever. They had been staring at him for so long that Pelayo and Elisenda, after a while, got over their initial surprise, and by the end they had come to know him very well. They then dared to try to speak to him, and in response he answered with a slurred voice, as the khans are accustomed to speak in a loud voice. That was why, without paying any attention to the two wings' troubles, they came to the conclusion, like very intelligent people, that he must be the lonely, shipwrecked sailor of a foreign ship that had capsized in a storm. And yet, when they called a neighbor to show him around, he again told them all the secrets of life and death.
And with just one look at her, it didn't take long for the neighbor to convince them that they had made a big mistake.
"'He's an angel,' the neighbor told them. 'He must have been coming to take the child, but the poor thing is such an old man that this downpour has completely worn him out.'