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The world came back to view for the unconscious Red Bird. His eyes flickered open and he saw a tree canopy towering above him. Almost every part of his body felt sore from the hard fall, he laid there for a moment awhile trying to get his bearings.

Where am I? he thought.

It was strange that the forest floor felt extremely comfortable, or it was Red Bird's feathers that were cushioning him. Whatever the reason, Red Bird knew that he can't spend all day here, he had to find a way home. So he got it together and used his might to stand up, once he was back on his belly the full pain from hitting a dozen or so branches came in full force.

"Ow," he grumbled, "Owww."

He leaned up against an oak tree and took a moment to relax his bruised muscles, if everything hurts then he must go to the hospital to see if he was alright. Red Bird kept that thought in mind, judging by how much hurt he was in. He took a deep breath and let's go of the oak tree, he nearly fell over due to the aches in his belly. Was that hunger, or internal bleeding? Right now, Red Bird couldn't tell the difference.

"Gotta get home," he mumbled to himself, "Damn you Boomerang Bird, wait until I find you so I could strangle that neck of yours."

Red Bird examined his surroundings, maybe if he traced the broken branches he could pinpoint his way out of here. Around him was thick vegetation that had been growing for maybe hundreds of years. Red Bird saw the branches he broke up near the forest roof, potential "widowmakers" ready to break loose to claim their next victim. His heart began to stiffen, now he wanted to be out of the area or-.

CRASH!

It came from behind, Red Bird turned around and saw a huge widowmaker laying before him. A thundered like boom that got his attention was enough to scare Red Bird out of his senses, but seeing what caused it and realized how close he was to being seriously injured or killed, was enough to make him crap himself. Ironically, Red Bird literally loosened his bowels and soon found a pile of his own steaming feces behind him. Wasn't that hilarious, why not do it up in a tree and ruin someone else's day?

Red Bird began to head off into the forest, he was all but embarrassed from his little mess he made. Oh well, leaving poo is better than leaving nothing when your fellow friends are trying to look for you. Assuming that they're looking for you.

Well they had to be looking for Red Bird, right? They all saw where he went, maybe they would find him in a jiffy. Due to the danger of widowmakers in the area, Red Bird grabbed a stick and wrote a message in the mud in big capital letters: "CAN'T STAY, WIDOWMAKERS!" He finished it off by making an arrow out of rocks to point where he was going, truth was Red Bird didn't know where he was going. He can't tell where home was, nor where the way out of the forest is.

Red Bird began walking, he wondered where he'll end up. Either somewhere around the ocean or right into mountainous terrain. If anything bad happened along the way, he will make sure that they're worth telling to his children.

As he walked along, he can't help but thinking if he was alone out here. A lonely bird is an unhappy bird, and Red Bird wondered if the locals would provide at least some comfort. He doubted it though, Red Bird knew how territorial birds are, judging by how they pound the guts out of insects for disturbing his eggs. Small birds will charge at their provoker, then pull away at the last minute. This tactic was suppose to scare them off, but it sometimes never work on humans. He recall one species of bird that swoops down and peck on people's heads when they come wondering by, he'd forgotten what species they were called, but he remembered how hilarious their tactics were.

For larger birds, they will attack their provoker outright. Since birds are very persistent, they won't let up. Geese would be vicious, yet ducks would calmly waddle away as their young follow them. He hope there weren't aggressive birds living in the forest, even though he was an Angry Bird, that doesn't mean the situation will be on his own terms.

So far, there weren't any birds nor wild animals anywhere. Maybe it autumn and the birds are down south as the mammals were stuffing themselves for winter, Red Bird felt a little chill when he realized there weren't any insects echoing out their mating calls, in fact it was plain silence. The way the sun was positioned tell Red Bird that night will be falling soon, he dread what he would find in the dark. If he was lucky, his imagination would be the night predator that could eat him alive.

Luckily, Red Bird had great skills when it comes to living off the land. He'll need a freshwater source, a simple stream would do. Humans of course would have to boil the water do to the bacteria that lives in it, their immune systems were weak, wild animals go by daily life drinking and eating their own feces. But that was just human perception, if the animal was starving, then their immune system will fail them. Classic common sense for Mother Nature.

Red Bird found himself a little stream, it had rushing water. Rushing water was good, since bacteria replicate slower in rushing river. Not if Red Bird cared or anything, but its best to be safe than sorry since there were no obvious signs of food anywhere, if sick, Red Bird would be killed by a predator if the micro-world hadn't finished him off already.

He took a sip of water, drinking it slowly, Red Bird hoped that whatever was living in the water won't reek havoc with his intestines. Oh that would be bad, parasites would love to live there because that's the place where they reproduce, which explains the tummy ache and diarrhea they tend to cause. To truth, Red Bird preferred to have the squirts rather than getting eaten by a bear.

Red Bird finished drinking and took a step back, he gazed at the water for a brief moment before figuring out a plan. If I follow the stream, he thought, Would that bring me back to civilization? Red Bird looked up in the sky and saw it was getting darker. He wondered about taking shelter near the stream, since forest creatures of all kind will flock here to get a drink.

He wasn't in the mood to find out, for Red Bird if he goes downstream it will lead him to the ocean. Heading upstream will lead him to the mountains. Okay, so somewhere between the ocean and mountains was civilization, and it might as well lead him back to familiar grounds. It took awhile for Red Bird to make up his mind, and so he chose to go upstream.

As he walked, he care to look back just to see if anyone was following him. He had been ambushed from behind and lost, Red Bird wished not to let it happen again. He covered some ground as the water began to rushed faster past him, noting that the incline was becoming more steep, he expect to be walking into the mountains very soon. Once there, he would stand on top of one of their peaks and get a good view of the landscape.

After a few more meters, Red Bird spotted a trail up ahead, a wooden bridge closed the gap over the creek and continued that trail. He spotted something coming down the trail, instinct told him to jump into the bushes. Once in a safe hiding place, Red Bird peaked out and got a good look at the hikers. It was the pigs, the green pigs were just walking along, hoisting stuffed sacks over their shoulders.

It was a convoy, the line went on almost like forever. It puzzled Red Bird, What were the pigs up to? he thought. He saw one of the pigs dropped something from its sack, the pig ignored it and continued marching in line as whatever he dropped slowly fell to earth before being trampled on by the other pigs. When the convoy past, Red Bird stepped out of the hiding place and rushed over to the road to examine what the pig had dropped.

There it was, Red Bird saw a blue crumpled feather. Such blue feather would belong to the Eastern bluebird. He didn't care what bird the feather came from, Red Bird wanted to know why it fell out of the pigs' sack. Were they harvesting feathers from birds? Plucking them bare and use their feathers for sleeping furniture? It made sense to Red Bird, feathers are at times necessary to make mattresses and pillows.

But something caught his eye, Red Bird picked up the feather and examined it in fine detail. Looking closely, he saw speckles of blood on it. That kind of blood splatter pattern can only be made by a blunt-force object, Red Bird dropped the feather in shock.

"This isn't good," said Red Bird to himself, "Bloodstained feathers falling out of huge sacks that could break your back is never a good sign."

Red Bird wanted to know more, he felt something build up inside of him, a certain kind of fear that he never knew he had. Evolution had built it in millions of years ago, it was the first time Red Bird had experienced it. Something was telling him, warning him, of the danger he had discovered. A danger of what? Being plucked nude or being killed? Maybe both?

These questions Red Bird desperately wanted to be solved, and so began walking down the trail, following the pigs' footprints in the dirt. That fear was telling him to turn back and head home, to forget about what he had found. Red Bird insisted himself he must find out what was going on, and he's not going to let weakness get in his way.

TO BE CONTINUED...