"Don Joseph?"
"Yes?"
"Why does La Stidda hide itself so carefully?"
Joseph did not answer at once.
The Ferrari rolled slowly along the narrow road outside the town. The night air was cool, and the scent of olive trees drifted through the open window.
Joseph drove with one hand resting lightly on the wheel, the other holding his cigar near the window so the smoke could escape.
For a while the only sound was the quiet rhythm of the engine.
Then he said,
"When I was a boy my grandfather owned a vineyard outside Palermo."
I turned slightly in my seat.
"There was an old caretaker there," Joseph continued. "A man named Carlo. He had worked the land for forty years, maybe more."
"What was he like?"
Joseph smiled faintly.
"The sort of man who speaks very little and notices everything."
The Ferrari slowed as we approached a small crossroads. A lone petrol station stood under a flickering yellow light.
Joseph pulled in.
The attendant stepped out of the small office, wiping his hands with a cloth. He looked tired, half-asleep.
"Fill it," Joseph said quietly.
The man nodded, but he looked directly at me.
"Long night, ragazzo?"
"Yes," I said.
Joseph remained silent beside me.
The attendant began filling the tank.
"Where are you headed?"
"Just driving."
The man glanced again into the car. His eyes lingered on the passenger side for a moment — the seat where Joseph sat — but his expression did not change.
He finished filling the tank and handed me the receipt.
"Drive safely."
I nodded.
Joseph restarted the engine and pulled back onto the road.
After a moment he continued the story as if nothing had interrupted it.
"One summer the vineyard began losing chickens."
"Foxes?" I asked.
"That's what everyone believed."
Joseph flicked a line of ash from the cigar into the darkness.
"Every morning there were feathers scattered behind the coop, but no tracks in the soil."
"No tracks?"
"None."
"That's strange."
"Yes."
Joseph leaned back slightly.
"Carlo said it wasn't a fox."
"What did he think it was?"
"A hawk."
"But hawks leave feathers everywhere."
"Exactly."
Joseph smiled.
"And yet nobody ever saw it."
The road curved through the hills.
"So one night Carlo decided to wait behind the coop."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
Joseph's voice softened slightly.
"He sat there with a lantern turned low. Midnight passed. One o'clock. Nothing happened."
"And then?"
Joseph exhaled slowly.
"He said something changed."
"What?"
"The insects stopped."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You know how farms sound at night," Joseph said. "Wind. Crickets. Little animals moving in the grass."
"Yes."
"Well suddenly there was nothing."
Joseph tapped the cigar against the window.
"Complete silence."
The headlights slid across a stone wall.
"And then?" I asked.
Joseph glanced at me.
"Carlo said the hawk landed behind him."
"How close?"
"Three feet."
I felt a chill run down my spine.
"He didn't hear it?"
Joseph shook his head.
"Not the wings. Not the landing."
"What did he do?"
"Nothing."
Joseph smiled faintly.
"He said the hawk stood there watching him."
"For how long?"
"Almost a minute."
"And the chickens?"
"They didn't move."
"Why?"
Joseph shrugged slightly.
"They hadn't seen it yet."
We drove in silence for a while.
Then Joseph said quietly,
"Carlo told me something interesting the next morning."
"What?"
"He said predators are not frightening when you see them."
"That doesn't sound right."
Joseph chuckled softly.
"The moment you see the predator, you understand the situation."
"And when you don't?"
Joseph looked out at the road ahead.
"That is when you are already in danger."
The engine hummed beneath us.
"What happened to the hawk?" I asked.
Joseph shrugged.
"Carlo moved the lantern."
"And?"
"The hawk flew away."
"That's all?"
"Yes."
The countryside stretched out in darkness around us.
"So why did he tell you the story?" I asked.
Joseph kept his eyes on the road.
"He said something I never forgot."
"What?"
Joseph paused.
"He said the vineyard didn't belong to the chickens."
Silence filled the car.
"It belonged to the hawk."
We drove for several minutes without speaking.
Finally I said quietly,
"So that's why La Stidda hides."
Joseph did not reply.
The road continued through the night.