Behind his back [Queze/Finnegan]
January 16, 2010 - 10:37pm — Alecsander
This is the continuation of Below his Belly.
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Queze raised his head and listened to the faint chatter of the birds.
He had been resting for some time at the area known to the others as the playground.
To be specific in the “deermuda Triangle.”
He had long since regarded the area as his own and was currently watching a flock of songbirds squabble over his discarded feathers.
It was nest building season and he found himself in awe of the lengths that the tiny sparrows would go to in order to have the flashiest nest.
The larger crows and magpies were normally the victors, but he was well known as a soft touch and the smaller songbirds crowded around and clamored for the discarded feathers when it came time to preen.
He steadily got to his feet and braced himself against the large standing stones before giving a brisk shape to dislodge the loose feathers which were promptly collected and taken skyward.
Unbeknownst to Queze, however, he was going to have a “bird of a different feather” after his headdress today.
Finnegan, meanwhile, had for some time been tearing across the forest in search of feathered deer. Despite his clear directions, his fervent enthusiasm towards the task spurred him to assault any feathered deer that was unfortunate enough to cross his path that morning. Clearly if one feather could heal the doe than many feathers would surely be better, right?
His collection had been so successful, in fact, that he was in possession of both a mouthful of feathers and a name on the hit list of more deer that he could imagine.
His fervent enthusiasm did not, however, make up for his poor sense of direction.
He had been, for some time, circling the playground without successfully having the sense to turn and climb down the ravine. Uncommon sense dictated Finn to believe that if he ran in a straight line long enough he would stumble upon the rocks. Common sense, on the other hand, dictated that if you had a specific destination in mind you should actively be on the lookout for it or stop and ask for directions.
It was only by change that the wind chose that moment to pick up and carry one of Queze’s feathers across the path of his hopeless hunter, which was promptly retrieved by a chickadee.
As this point in time any level headed deer might have reasoned that the source of the feathers was close. Simple investigation would result in the acquisition of a feather. “Level headed” could only have ever seen applied to Finnegan in the literal sense in the event that he should rest his head on the ground. Instead he could be described as feathered brained in both the figurative and, if he had his way, literal sense. He opened up his jaws and steadily crept closer to his quarry. Surely a bird has feathers and brought music, so they must be able to help the doe.
”Twa-twa-twa-tweeee-tweee-twa-tweee-Crack!”
Queze paused in his preening and raised his head listening to the surrounding trees.
”twaa-twee-chirp-chirp-chirpchirp-twaa-THUMP THUMP THUMP-TWEEEEE!-Crack!”
The surrounding forest had grown silent and even the quibbling birds had ceased their spats to stare distantly towards the trees.
This sound was foreign.
At first he had thought the sound to be the unfortunate collision of a bird with a tree. It soon became apparent that his supposed “tree” was on the move and getting closer. He hugged closer to the rock and peered out towards the tree line. He had no way of knowing what foe lurked in the shadows. He would have to be on guard and prepared for anything.
His stance was that of a honed warrior and guarded against any front of attack. He could side step a frontal charge, maneuver around sharp points, dive over a kick or even use his headdress to repel a fatal blow. His skill and life experience had not, however, prepared him on how to react when faced with a slim buck charging from the trees and running circles around him while simultaneously babbling nonsense.
He relaxed his stance and watched the buck’s spastic display with some interest. Was this some sort of new game? He was somewhat familiar with that newfangled flower sparring and rock climbing, but this display was just tiresome and borderline irritating. Queze shot forward and maneuvered his skull helm under the buck’s legs before twisting sharply to knock him off balance and plant a hoof gently on his side. He leaned down and he him a curious identifying sniff before addressing the frantic Finn.
“Greetings, and what do I owe this visit?”
It was as if his words had flipped some invisible ignition switch and the hard headed buck once again became animated in his attempts to deliver his mission.
“mmph mwch mmmhmmphen mn mhat mmmmhmm moe!”
Queze stared blankly while dodging a sweeping hoof.
“mmhmmn, mnee mwad mmmm mamded a memthmer!”
How tiresome. He gingerly planted a hoof on the side of Finn’s jaw and lightly applied pressure. “Spit it out.”
“Mmph..!” Finn shook his head.
More forcefully this time. “OUT!”
Finnegan flashed him a defeated look and opened his mouth, spitting out a spoiled, but relatively unharmed sparrow.
“All of them Finn! Don’t make me ask again! Be assured that I will reach down your throat to retrieve the poor creatures if you do not cooperate.”
Finn glanced in the priest’s face for any indication of humor and reluctantly began to regurgitate the birds and mess of feathers that he had spent the previous night collecting. The wet birds did not wait even a fraction of a second before putting distance between themselves and the terrifying chomping skull beast. Fin gave the birds a mournful look before opening his mouth for Queze to inspect.
“Eee? Ah gone!”
Queze stared him down with a critical look before finally speaking. “And why, might I ask, were you trying to devour the songbirds?”
Finn did not wait a half section before diving into his long story. “IwasintheclearingbythepondandwasgoingtokeepadoecompanysoIlaiddownnextother
butirolledoerandsatonherandhurtmyselfbutIhurtherworseandshesadithatIhadtogetoneofyour
featherstofixherlegsoIfiguredthatmorefeatherswouldbebetterandsongshceermeup
soifIbroughtbirdshseowuldhealfastersoIwentaft-“
It took all of Queze’s patience to resist forcefully shutting the child’s mouth. It was only horrid fascination the prevented him from doing so. It was as if the child did not have to breathe and the words just continued. It was mesmerizing. He felt his eyes glaze over and before he could react the buck had pinned him down and was attempting to yank off his headdress.
“so”tug ” that is why” pull “I need” yank “your feathers” heave
Queze rarely lost his temper, but the incessant chattering bird eating hyperactive child on his head was tugging not only at his feathers but his last nerve. “Fine! Bring me to this doe you injured and I will help you! Now get off my head!” He groaned softly as the pressure was alleviated and gave the buck’s backside a weary look as it bounded over the ridge towards the pond.
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Part 2/3
Featuring Finnegan of Hallows and Queze of Terabetha.
LOL! Need I say more? ...yes,
Need I say more? ...yes, yes I think I must lol
This was so damn funny, and you write Queze so well! I'm in love with the part where he trips Finn over, had me giggling madly lol.
Poor birds though D: almost eaten, and covered in Finn-spittle!
I eagerly await the next installment :B
Ahahaha, this story is
oow.. my belly hurts from
simply amazing xD
I adore you for your writing skills, alecsander ^^
Thanks guys. xD I like
I like writing for Finn because I can be pretty damn absurd and go outside common sense since he is not a reserved level headed calm deer.
It's not healthy to laugh as
Keep 'em comin'. > >
I have to say, I've been sick
I cannot say how grateful I am for these stories, and I'm so glad you like writing for Finn! (:
XD I'm liking this, but I
I updated so the link to part
Thanks! I ended up wandering
No problem. I figured it
This one was just as funny as