Author's Note: Here's a little headcanon I've had that's been bothering me for quite a while after finally watching the fifth film. I don't know if someone already made a fic for it. Either way, these are just my thoughts on: what if Buck wasn't at all crazy? What if there's a completely different story behind the pumpkin he named Bronwyn? Sorry if it's nonsense and a bit weird, but I had to get it up here!

Here it goes!


Manny and Diego tugged roughly on Sid's tail, both determined to pull him from a certain hole that Manny had forbid him to get near to. Now that the sloth flew a few yards away, the large mammoth rubs his head with his trunk in frustration. "Sid, how many times have I told you to not go near this unsanitary hole?"

"Last I checked, um give me a minute," the green sloth opens his paws and began counting his fingers to help him recall the many scoldings he received from Manny. "Five, I guess?"

"I'm surprised he can count that far," the saber-toothed tiger commented, with his back laid against the ground after wrenching Sid out of the small crack left from the continental drift. "Considering he only has four fingers, of course."

"I didn't even think he could count at all." Diego had already got back on four of his paws, and coughed in an attempt to stop Manny from further continuing.

"That wasn't very nice!" Sid sent him an annoyed look.

This was their everyday life now. Living by Manny's rules had already been a tradition, but there were no consequences once a rule is disobeyed. The consequences are by nature, much like when you place your hand inside a beehive, you'd get stung. In Sid's case, slipping into an opened crevice.

"How are you guys with Sid?" a female voice belonging to the new mate of Diego asked.

"Hi, Shira!" the sloth waves his hands childishly at her while he waddles his way to the group.

"Seriously, Sid, you really have to be careful!" Diego chided, puffing his chest out. This earned him an affectionate lick from his wife, which melted his prideful stance. He could feel heat prickling his cheeks, which Sid finds very difficult to tell. He was red under his fur, but Sid saw all but the tiger blush.

"Anyone up for my home-baked berries?" the blue-eyed sloth began grabbing the berries from the floor, and flung it into his mouth, munching the blue fruits. He spits out a blue juice on his palm, and offered it to the trio. "I found these by the dead tree, all burnt to crisp. Seemed fresh, though."

"No thanks. I'm full." Shira pulls her paw up to her nose to hide her distaste on berries. Diego, who sat beside her chuckling, pats the female on the back.

"I think we'll pass." he said, pushing Sid's paws away slightly.

The rest of the group gathered over to where they were to see what the commotion was all about. Buck had stopped at the sight, standing frozen still.

"Want some, Buck?" the weasel was a little bit lost in thought, which Sid didn't pay any mind to.

His eyes had been fixated on the charred trunk of tree that twisted high into the air. From afar, it was barely recognisable. The poor thing had been burned thoroughly that one could hardly tell what it once were. If one so much as breathed into it, the scorched piece of wood would no doubt collapse. For all he knew, it endured many storms and unrelenting winds. Buck wondered for how long it had been that way and why it was still there.

At its very center, where the roots and the trunk met, there happened an abandoned burrow.

Back then, he had been positive nothing remained, much less survived that fateful night.

That hole shouldn't exist.