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Description
One spring morning, the Taillow family found themselves huddled together in a tight cluster, a sure sign it was cold out. Cyclone roused from sleep and spotted her father perched at the edge of the tree hole their nest resided in. She hopped up to join his side and was astonished at the sight before them; Creeping Forest was almost completely white, with odd white flakes falling from the sky.

“What is...” Cyclone stammered.

“It’s snow.”

“I’ve never felt this cold in my life.”

“You’ve only been alive for a few months. It stopped snowing shortly before your eggs were laid. This is not right.”

The pair was then joined by the mother of the family. She turned to her mate. “This coldness will give our foes an advantage. Are the kids ready to migrate?”

“Wha... migrate? Why!” Cyclone cried out.

Father Taillow’s beak almost turned into a smile. “So, is my headstrong daughter actually scared?”

“No! I’m not scared of some cold, white crap! And I am not going to make it force me to leave!”

The parent Taillow said nothing back, being accustomed to Cyclone’s stubborn arrogance. The pair just hopped back to the nest, rousing the rest of their adolescent children up.

“Tweety, Singy, Songy! Rise and shine, my darlings!”

“Ugh, why is it so cold?” asked Tweety, the lone male offspring.

It didn’t take long for the parents to explain what winter was, and how it shouldn’t be happening at this time of year. They also explained that, to ensure their survival, they would have to migrate north to Sonata Forest for an indeterminate amount of time.

“So we’re all just giving up?” Cyclone squawked.

“Chirpy, get real...” Singy sighed.

“Quit calling me Chirpy!”

Feathers puffed in frustration (and cold), Cyclone lunged at Singy talons-first. Their father was quick to intervene, tackling Cyclone onto her back. The shock of the cold, as well as her father fighting back, stunned the young Taillow.

“Wow,” Cyclone said breathlessly. “Dad... I didn’t know you had that in you!”

The father just gave a sharp peck to Cyclone’s head and stepped back, glaring. He suddenly realized that he and his mate may have dropped the wrong hatchling from the nest.

“Chirpy. This is not the time. Especially not now. We cannot stay in Creeping Forest. The Caterpie, Wurmple, and berries we depend on for survival are sure to be killed off by now. And as your mother mentioned, our most feared enemy, the Sneasel, thrive in this cold climate. If you remain here, you will be alone. You will die.”

“I will not die,” Cyclone answered back.

Her father just raised his head and puffed out his chest. He looked to his mate and nodded.

“I see other flocks leaving,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The parent Taillow flew from the tree hole, soon followed by Tweety and Singy. Songy half-heartedly leapt to the edge of the nest exit.

“Hey, Songy! Let’s train together! Sure, this snow stuff sucks, but it’ll be a fun challenge!”

Songy turned around to face her sister. For a brief moment, Cyclone noticed how dull Songy’s once vibrant plumage looked, how she held her head low and shoulders high, how her large, dark eyes shimmered.

“I’m sorry, Cyclone,” Songy said. She then hopped from the tree hole and flew off to catch up with her family.

Without a second thought, Cyclone took off after her sister. “Hey, get back!” she cried out, voice echoing through the chilling forest. Despite her weak state, Songy effortlessly glided through the maze of trees and branches. It appeared their previous training had paid off after all.

“Songy! Hey! If you leave me, you’ll be weak like the rest of them! Like all Taillow! We don’t have to flee, we can fight!”

Songy just flapped her wings harder, convinced her noisy sister would attract a whole slew of unwanted attention. In the distance she saw not only her family but other Taillow, the birds instinctively forming a flock in preparation for the sudden migration.

The distance between Cyclone and Songy grew and grew. Shouting and breathing in frigid air began to take its toll on the young bird, so Cyclone glided to an old oak tree to rest, the snow cloaked branch stinging her feet. She panted rapidly and puffed out her feathers. Songy was no longer in sight.

That cowardly traitor. Songy was no different from the rest of those defeatists. Why should some coldness and white junk force them all to give up their home and move away? It was a challenge. Cyclone’s father said that if she stayed in Creeping Forest she would die. She’d prove him wrong. She’d prove them all wrong. Somehow.

----

Part three of "Fight and Flight"

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Description
One spring morning, the Taillow family found themselves huddled together in a tight cluster, a sure sign it was cold out. Cyclone roused from sleep and spotted her father perched at the edge of the tree hole their nest resided in. She hopped up to join his side and was astonished at the sight before them; Creeping Forest was almost completely white, with odd white flakes falling from the sky.

“What is...” Cyclone stammered.

“It’s snow.”

“I’ve never felt this cold in my life.”

“You’ve only been alive for a few months. It stopped snowing shortly before your eggs were laid. This is not right.”

The pair was then joined by the mother of the family. She turned to her mate. “This coldness will give our foes an advantage. Are the kids ready to migrate?”

“Wha... migrate? Why!” Cyclone cried out.

Father Taillow’s beak almost turned into a smile. “So, is my headstrong daughter actually scared?”

“No! I’m not scared of some cold, white crap! And I am not going to make it force me to leave!”

The parent Taillow said nothing back, being accustomed to Cyclone’s stubborn arrogance. The pair just hopped back to the nest, rousing the rest of their adolescent children up.

“Tweety, Singy, Songy! Rise and shine, my darlings!”

“Ugh, why is it so cold?” asked Tweety, the lone male offspring.

It didn’t take long for the parents to explain what winter was, and how it shouldn’t be happening at this time of year. They also explained that, to ensure their survival, they would have to migrate north to Sonata Forest for an indeterminate amount of time.

“So we’re all just giving up?” Cyclone squawked.

“Chirpy, get real...” Singy sighed.

“Quit calling me Chirpy!”

Feathers puffed in frustration (and cold), Cyclone lunged at Singy talons-first. Their father was quick to intervene, tackling Cyclone onto her back. The shock of the cold, as well as her father fighting back, stunned the young Taillow.

“Wow,” Cyclone said breathlessly. “Dad... I didn’t know you had that in you!”

The father just gave a sharp peck to Cyclone’s head and stepped back, glaring. He suddenly realized that he and his mate may have dropped the wrong hatchling from the nest.

“Chirpy. This is not the time. Especially not now. We cannot stay in Creeping Forest. The Caterpie, Wurmple, and berries we depend on for survival are sure to be killed off by now. And as your mother mentioned, our most feared enemy, the Sneasel, thrive in this cold climate. If you remain here, you will be alone. You will die.”

“I will not die,” Cyclone answered back.

Her father just raised his head and puffed out his chest. He looked to his mate and nodded.

“I see other flocks leaving,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The parent Taillow flew from the tree hole, soon followed by Tweety and Singy. Songy half-heartedly leapt to the edge of the nest exit.

“Hey, Songy! Let’s train together! Sure, this snow stuff sucks, but it’ll be a fun challenge!”

Songy turned around to face her sister. For a brief moment, Cyclone noticed how dull Songy’s once vibrant plumage looked, how she held her head low and shoulders high, how her large, dark eyes shimmered.

“I’m sorry, Cyclone,” Songy said. She then hopped from the tree hole and flew off to catch up with her family.

Without a second thought, Cyclone took off after her sister. “Hey, get back!” she cried out, voice echoing through the chilling forest. Despite her weak state, Songy effortlessly glided through the maze of trees and branches. It appeared their previous training had paid off after all.

“Songy! Hey! If you leave me, you’ll be weak like the rest of them! Like all Taillow! We don’t have to flee, we can fight!”

Songy just flapped her wings harder, convinced her noisy sister would attract a whole slew of unwanted attention. In the distance she saw not only her family but other Taillow, the birds instinctively forming a flock in preparation for the sudden migration.

The distance between Cyclone and Songy grew and grew. Shouting and breathing in frigid air began to take its toll on the young bird, so Cyclone glided to an old oak tree to rest, the snow cloaked branch stinging her feet. She panted rapidly and puffed out her feathers. Songy was no longer in sight.

That cowardly traitor. Songy was no different from the rest of those defeatists. Why should some coldness and white junk force them all to give up their home and move away? It was a challenge. Cyclone’s father said that if she stayed in Creeping Forest she would die. She’d prove him wrong. She’d prove them all wrong. Somehow.

----

Part three of "Fight and Flight"

Previous- [link]
Next- [link]