Sampāti, the elder king of vultures, spoke with gravity to the assembled vanaras, his words tinged with remorse: “A blameworthy deed was once committed, causing us to become flesh-eaters. Because of this, I am bound to repay an old enmity, one that arose through my own brother’s actions.” He gazed out from his mountain perch, his eyes keen and far-seeing. “Standing here, I behold Rāvaṇa and Jānakī. Know that we too, like Garuda, possess divine vision and strength. By our nourishment, vigor, and very nature, O monkeys, we are able to see beyond a hundred yojanas and more. This is the way ordained for us—we are meant to see far. Just as warriors find their sustenance at the roots of trees, so too is our livelihood set by nature.” Sampāti then urged, “Let a means be found to cross these salty waters. Once you reach Vaidehī, you will return, your purpose accomplished. I wish to lead you to the ocean, the abode of Varuṇa, and there I will offer water for my brother, the great soul who has departed to heaven.” With these words, the mighty monkeys gathered Sampāti—his wings long since burned—and brought him to the shore of the lord of rivers and streams. There, on the ocean’s edge, they performed the sacred rites for his brother. Having honored the venerable king of birds, the monkeys, now joyful with the information they had gained, returned him to his place and gathered together, their hearts lightened and their purpose renewed. Let the next chapter be heard. Having listened to the nectar-like speech of Sampāti, the king of vultures, the foremost among the monkeys spoke with joy. Jāmbavān, the eldest and wisest of their kind, rose with all the vanaras and respectfully addressed Sampāti, “Where is Sītā? By whom was she seen? Who has carried away Maithilī? Please, tell us everything, and guide us, the dwellers of the forest.” They spoke with reverence, mindful of the power of Rāma’s arrows, which, released by Lakṣmaṇa, strike with the force of thunderbolts. Comforting the monkeys, who were anxious for news of Sītā, Sampāti replied with pleasure, “Listen now to how I heard of Vaidehī’s abduction, who told me, and where she is.” He recounted, “I, old and fallen, have long lain upon this mountain fortress, which stretches for many yojanas. My strength and vitality are lost. Yet my son, Supārśva—best among those who fly—sustains me with food at the proper times, despite my condition. The Gandharvas are fierce in their desires, the serpents in their wrath, and the fear among animals is fierce; thus, our hunger, too, is fierce. “Once, when I was hungry and longing for food, my son, who had not eaten flesh, came to me at sunset. Though afflicted by hunger, he increased my joy and, with my permission, spoke these words truthfully: ‘Father, at the proper time, desiring meat, I flew through the sky and took shelter at the entrance of Mount Mahendra. Among thousands of creatures roaming between the seas, I alone blocked the path, my mouth closed and silent. ‘There, I saw someone radiant as the rising sun, carrying a woman and flying through the sky—a dark form, like a broken mass of collyrium. Seeing them, I resolved to ask for passage, and with gentle, courteous words, I made my request, as was fitting. For who on earth strikes those who approach with conciliation? Even the lowly do not; how much less one such as I? ‘He sped through the sky with such force it was as if he compressed the heavens. Celestial beings approached and honored me, and the great sages said, “By fortune Sītā lives; though separated from her husband, she has gone safely, without doubt.” Thus, Rāvaṇa, king of the Rākṣasas, was revealed to me by these radiant Siddhas. ‘I saw the wife of Daśaratha’s son, the daughter of Janaka, stripped of ornaments and silks, overcome by grief. Her hair was unbound, and she cried out the names of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. This, O dear one, is the time that has passed, as declared by the wise.’ “My son Supārśva told me all this, yet, even after hearing it, I could not act. For how could a wingless bird accomplish anything? Yet, whatever I can do, guided by speech and wisdom, I will do. Hear now what I say, relying on your valor. Through words and intelligence, I will do what pleases you. “What is Rāma’s task is surely mine—of this, there is no doubt. You are all of excellent judgment, strong and resolute. Sent by the king of monkeys, you are formidable even for the gods. The arrows of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, feathered with eagle plumes, are prepared and sufficient to restrain the weapons of all three worlds. Surely, the ten-headed one possesses great energy and strength, yet for you, nothing is difficult. “Therefore, enough of delay—let a firm decision be made. For the wise, like you, do not linger in action.” Let the next chapter be heard. Having performed the water-rite and bathed, the monkey chiefs sat around Sampāti on the lovely mountain, encircling him with respect. Sampāti, filled with joy and confidence, spoke again as Angada and all the vanaras gathered close, ready to hear the guidance of the wise king of birds.