As Peewee flew on through the colorful yet slightly monotonous wilderness, he went over the adventure he’d had so far in his head (meaning that he was thinking about the adventure that had actually happened, not that the adventure had only happened in his head…although that would be a fun and original twist).
Hmm, let’s see…daring escape from a bunch of evil monsters: check!
Escaping temptation from a pretty lady: check!
Doing a helpful favor for somebirdy: uh…
Anyway! I’ve gone through most of what every great adventure needs, but something’s still missing. I can’t quite put my wing on what it is, but I know I still need something for my adventure to be complete. Come on, think! What could it be?
“AH!” a voice cried out. “Those damned wolves!”
Peewee gasped. Of course! Saving the day from more evil monsters! No adventure is complete without it! This is the perfect chance to redeem myself! With that, he took off in the direction of the voice, or at least the direction in which the voice had been, since, of course, the voice wasn’t there anymore. Such is the nature of sound.
“I’m sick of this!” The owner of the (rather unremarkable) voice came into view: a red fox pacing in front of a hole on the side of a hill. “Who do those timberwolves think they are, anyway?!”
“You know, that’s a good question,” a sandy blond fox sitting beside him said. “Do you think timberwolves ever imagine themselves as other creatures? I know I do. Hey, you remember the time I pretended I was an anteater? Those ants were surprisingly tasty…”
“Elloy!” the red fox snapped. “Do you think you could save your silliness for when our den isn’t ruined?!”
“Sorry, Copper,” Elloy whimpered. “Just trying to lighten the mood, geez…”
“Maybe I can help!” Peewee chimed in as he fluttered on up to the surprised foxes.
“You mean help lighten the mood or help fix our den?” Elloy asked.
Copper gave the weary sigh of a guy who knows he’s the only sensible creature in the entire universe and said, “No, Elloy, the correct question would be, ‘who are you?’”
“Me?” Peewee responded in the best impression of his father’s dramatic tone he could muster. “I am the one that fate has sent to restore harmony to the world! I am the blazing bird of justice, the flying freedom fighter, the awesomely adorable…”
“Your name, peewee?” Copper cut in impatiently.
Peewee gasped in a suitably dramatic manner. “How did you know?!”
“Know wha…ugh, forget it,” Copper groaned. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I’m here to take care of those timberwolves you mentioned!” Peewee said with a cheerful grin.
The two foxes couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the wonderful joke the chick was gracious enough to give them. “A little bird’s gonna fight some wolves?” Copper choked out. “What’s he gonna do, sing them to death?”
“Haha, maybe he’s got a bomb hidden in his butt or something!” Elloy wondered.
“Better than that!” Peewee said obliviously. “I’ve got…FIRE!” On the word “fire,” he spit out a small fireball that landed on a nearby bush and set it ablaze. The foxes were silenced by this surprise development.
“Wh-what kind of demon bird are you?!” Copper stammered as he hid behind his more mesmerized foxy comrade.
Peewee stared at the foxes like they were aliens who were wearing fox suits, which was a surprising popular pastime for them. “What’s up with you guys?” he asked them. “Haven’t you ever seen a phoenix before?”
“Whoa, a phoenix?!” Elloy gasped. “I’ve never met one of those before! What’s it like being a phoenix?”
“Oh, it’s the best!” Peewee replied cheerily. “Why, just the other day…”
“Excuse me. Guys?” Copper cut in. “Do you think we could get back to the timberwolves? You know, the ones that wrecked our den?”
“Oh, right!” Peewee realized. “So why’d those timberwolves target you, anyway?”
With another weary sigh, albeit one of weariness over a bitter nemesis rather than over annoying silliness, Copper explained, “Those wolves have been nothing but trouble for us ever since we accidentally snapped a twig that belonged to one of them. They’ve been taking our food and spoiling our water–”
“And they tore up my flower sculptures!” Elloy added with a tearful sniffle.
“Exactly!” Copper punctuated with a stomp of his paw. “We’ve been terrorized by those monsters for who-knows-how-long-because-we-suck-at-telling-time, but we can’t hurt them back because they’d tear us to shreds! But now that we have a little friend with the power of fire,” he added with an eager grin, “they’ll finally know the pain we feel!”
“Yeah!” Elloy cheered. “Except, well, none of our pain involved getting set on fire, at least not any of our timberwolf-related pain…”
“Dang it, Elloy, why do you always gotta ruin the mood with your diversions?” Copper groaned.
“I was just saying…” Elloy weakly protested.
“Don’t worry, my foxy friends!” Peewee assured them as he did a salute while still flying in midair, something every brave bird should know how to do. “I promise to do everything I can to teach those big bad wolves a thing or do about what happens when they bully others! And then we can go on a picnic together!”
“Uh…sure, why not?” Copper said with a nonplussed stare.
“Yay!” Peewee whooped. “Here I go to save the day!” With that, he took off into the distance, whistling his heroic theme…only to come back and ask, “Where do the timberwolves live again?”
Another weary sigh of the first kind from Copper. “You go up to the rock on top of that hill, take a left, keep going until you get to the tree that looks like a bear doing a tap dance, take a right, and it’s just inside the area where the forest gets all dark and spooky.”
“Kay, thanks!” Peewee said, trying to regain his heroic dignity. “Now, here I go to save the day!” He took off into the distance again, though at least it was the right distance this time. After a quick trek down the path that the directions provided (while stopping briefly to admire the technique of the bear tree), he noticed that he was upon an area where light barely shone through the tree tops and there was an unmistakable aura of dread and decay. Perfect!
He felt his confidence and excitement plummet upon hearing a telltale growl not too far away, yet still far away enough that he could tell that the wolf wasn’t within chomp-him-down reach, meaning his confidence still had a tether that would let it bounce back shortly; kind of like when people go bungee jumping, only it’s just a metaphor and there’s no actual cable or anything. Oh dear, I almost forgot about the possibility of getting eaten…but wait, I can still spit fire! Wolves aren’t nearly as scary to a fire breather when they’re made of wood! I bet Spike torched like a hundred timberwolves during his hero training while I was away! I wonder if he collects the ashes of his fallen foes as trophies or something. Too bad my pockets are too small to hold that many ashes…
And then, there they are, in a shady clearing right in front of him. Six bundles of twigs arranged to look like (and possessing the mindset of) wolves with glowing yellow eyes were standing or lying there, most of whom were eating or napping, along with one wolf who was fiddling with a crown of flowers on its head. Alright, the time for my big hero moment has come at last! As he flew up to the clearing, he took a deep breath and gave a mighty whistle that he planned to have as his heroic signal. Whenever any creature heard this whistle, they knew they were about to be hero-ed! …Or something.
The wolves snapped to attention and turned toward the little phoenix who had perched on a high-up branch and was now posing with his chest puffed out like he’d seen his father do many times in the past.
“Uh…hello, little birdy,” a timberwolf said uncertainly.
“Don’t try to sweet-talk me, villain!” Peewee retorted. “You will pay for the crimes you have committed!”
“Excuse me?” another wolf puzzled. “Who are you?”
“I am none other than the great shining hope of the skies!” Peewee called out as though he were auditioning for the most important theatrical performance in all of ever. “I am the son of wind, the child of spirit, the best friend of cuteness! When you dream about doing bad things, there I am, watching you like a–”
“What is with this guy?!” a third timberwolf growled in exasperation.
“Maybe his egg was half-baked?” the wolf with the flower crown suggested.
“Hey, don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt dramatic speeches?” Peewee scolded. “Now, I’m going to give you a chance to apologize before I do hero things to you!”
The first wolf made a strange sound that was like a mix between a growl and a groan, a sound that few creatures had heard in their lives, since it’s rare for someone to annoy a timberwolf without getting eaten. “Leave us alone, you runt! Go play your games with someone who cares!”
“Who are you calling a runt?” Peewee snapped back. “Let’s see if you think this is still a game after…THIS!” With that, he shot a fireball at the timberwolf and hit him right between the eyes. Yes! Bull’s eye! Or…timberwolf’s eye, I guess!
The ignited timberwolf screamed in a manner unbefitting a vicious predator made of wood and ran around in a panic, dragging his face across the ground in an effort to put out the unfriendly flames. The other wolves stared in horror, either at their fellow packmate in pain or at the hellspawn that could summon fire from his body. Peewee stared at the scene occurring before him, feeling his sense of heroism dwindle. That’s strange; I thought defeating bad guys was supposed to feel better than this. What am I doing wrong?
Just then, the timberwolf with the flower crown scooped up some dirt with his front paws, ran up awkwardly on his back legs to the wolf who was frantically beating at the flames still on his face, and threw the pile of dirt on his comrade’s face, snuffing out the enemy embers but also spilling dirt into his eyeholes.
“GAH! My eyes!” the first wolf cried out.
“See, Douglas?” the flower crown wolf said with a beam. “I told you that dirt would save your life someday!”
“What kind of monster would just set a guy on fire like that?!” another wolf burst out.
“Yeah, seriously, why would you do something so horrible?!” the charred wolf demanded. “And could someone please get me some eye drops?!”
Peewee felt himself growing smaller and smaller under the angry and horrified gazes of the enemy timberwolf pack, until he felt he could have been eaten by an ant if metaphors have effects on the literal body. “B-but…you’re the bad guys!” he stammered. “I’m punishing you for bullying Copper and Elloy!”
The atmosphere took a turn for the menacing at the mention of those names. “So, those two sent you, did they?” a timberwolf snarled with menace dripping down the sides of his mouth like figurative rabies. “Figures they’d send someone clueless to do their dirty work.”
“Dirty work?” Peewee asked, feeling a whole lot muddier than he used to.
“Yeah, those foxes you were trying to be a “hero” for?” Douglas said as the flower crown wolf poured eye drops in his eyes that he had gotten from wherever. “They’re not the innocent victims you think they are.”
“What are you talking about?” Peewee demanded, his bravado starting to return to him. “You messed up their den and ruined their flower sculptures, didn’t you?”
“Not all of them; some of them were so nice, I just couldn’t let them go to waste!” the wolf with the flower crown said proudly as he gestured to a gap in the trees that showed a small menagerie of little flower animals in mid-frolicking poses.
“They were the ones who attacked first!” the menace-filled timberwolf shouted with a stomp, startling the flower crown wolf enough to make him stumble to the ground. “They came along and harassed us to no end! They would ruin our hunts by shouting where we were hiding and tripping us while we chased fleeing prey, they would spread rumors about us that drove away any possible mates, and just when I thought they couldn’t go any lower…” His eyes became filled with tears at this point. “…They snapped off my winky!”
A hush fell over the clearing like a gloomy raincloud placed by a prankster pegasus with nothing better to do with their time. Peewee stared blankly as the implications of what had just been revealed sunk in. I…I helped bad guys? The timberwolves were innocent? They have wooden winkies? But…but…
“I…I…I’m sorry!” the phoenix wailed. “I’m so sorry!” Unable to bear being in their presence any longer, he fled from the falsely accused pack, leaving behind a trail of tears that glimmered like innocence lost or something along those lines.
It’s official: I’m the worst hero ever.
----------
Silence reigned over the timberwolf pack, oppressively and arrogantly, until it was overthrown by the inspired voice of Bushy Tail, the flower-loving timberwolf. “I just got an idea!” He quickly ran over to the puddle of tears that had accumulated beneath the accursed phoenix’s perch, dipped his paw in it, and gave an experimental lick. Wow, it tastes like magical deliciousness! “Hey Elmer, come over here a sec!”
The winky-less wolf trudged over to the overeager flower crown bearer. “What is it?” he asked flatly.
“My mom once told me that phoenix tears have magical powers!” Bushy explained as he scooped up some of the puddle before him. “It may be a long shot, but perhaps…”
Without warning, he pressed his teary paws against Elmer’s groin, causing him to yelp and smack Bushy upside the head. “What is the matter with you?!” Elmer snapped. “You don’t just touch a wolf there without…” He stopped short as he felt a strange sensation where he had been drenched. He could feel something familiar grow there with renewed energy and splendor. “H-hey! My winky’s back! You fixed it!” With a grin, he embraced the flower-adorned wolf and gave a mighty howl, one that inspired his brethren to join in and create a melody that hadn’t filled the forest in ages.
“It’s so great to have you back, buddy!” Bushy Tail cheered as he nuzzled his reendowed companion. “How should we celebrate?”
“I know just how to mark this occasion,” Elmer answered with a devious grin. “By ending those foul foxes’ reign of terror once and for all!”
The six wolves cheered and sprinted with renewed vigor, the scents of their nemeses filling their nostrils. The king is back, baby!
End of Part 5