The fawn, even in his slow mind, knew that these bizarre birds were leading him somewhere. He had heard nothing of the crow’s conversation regarding their master and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have even thought twice about it, or understood it, for that matter. Debit no longer had to lead him by the ear; he just flew a little bit up the path at the fawn’s eye level. The fawn would follow, as if fascinated, while Credit just perched on his antler nub.
They travelled for a day, maybe two, I can’t quite remember. No matter the distance, the trio soon came to large clearing with a small brook splitting in two. Debit stopped and swerved around. “Noo you betta be reel good for the Master, ye hear?” he said, rather sharply. The fawn, as we established before, couldn’t understand the crows, but seeing as Debit was talking as if it were a question, he nodded reluctantly.
This was the response Debit had wanted. He bobbed his head up and down and said, “Good, noo stay doon here, and don’t move.” Debit then flew across the brook along with his brother and landed on the other side. “Master Bartleby! Master Bartleby!” they both screamed. The fawn flinched with pain, as their voices were both really quite unpleasant. Immediately an annoyed sigh forced the crows into silence.
“Ugh… stupid things, could you not see I was sleeping?” a voice rung out from behind the bushes. It was quite childish, but at the same time it had a very almost grown-up quality to it. A fawn then stepped out. He… or she… it was hard to tell, for the fawn looked as if it had just been born and washed. There were no signs of antlers and he/she was less than half the size of our soon-to-be Turkey. He/she, however, had more oddities than that. He/she had a pure white coat, only found on the Gods and her/his’ hooves looked as if they were made of pure gold.
Chapter Four: Plots
“Coom on, ye daft munkin’, geet a move on!” Credit squawked into the fawn’s ear. The fawn had been, naturally, fairly reluctant to leave behind his mother. Wouldn’t she be worried? Wouldn’t she fret over him? Well, these questions didn’t plague the fawn’s head. He was more preoccupied with his fear of the strange birds leading him deeper into the woods.
The trio traveled on for about an hour before they stopped at nearby spring. The little fawn dunked his head into the water and opened his mouth, periodically raising his head to breath, of course. Twas the only sensible thing to do, after all. The two crows hopped about scouring the grass for insects.
“Oi, Debit, yoo sure about this?” Credit whispered to his white-tipped comrade. Debit nodded his head, “Aye, the wee hinny asn’t even got a name, and-“ he quickly stopped and shot his beak into the ground, retrieving a small, repulsive creature. He swallowed it whole. Credit respectfully waited until he was finished, and asked, “D’ye think Master Bartleby weel like im’?” Debit just looked at him and said, quite frankly, “What d’ye think, ye bluidy fyeul? Les’ keep goin’ or I’ll blaa yer lugs off!”
And with that, the two crows grabbed onto the poor fawn and led him onward. The crows thought of how much their master would enjoy this new arrival, while the soon-to-be-dubbed Turkey just watched the birds in the sky.
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Sorry for the shortness, and hooray for more bad/inconsistant accents! Wait, shouldn't I be working on that challenge? I should, shouldn't I? Aw well, might as well get to that...
