Complications & Worn Hope

Fumu had been worried that there was going to be trouble with leaving with Kirby's sudden attachment to Ms. Morriphina, but after nearly a full day of Kirby acting strangely, he seemed to have finally stopped whatever it was and had even joined the rest of the kids as they waited for Sir Meta Knight and Sir Lancelot to finish warming the speeder.

Fumu felt sad about leaving but they did have stuff to do back home. (They needed to, one, mollify Sir Meta Knight's fears so they could, two, make it so Kirby could go in the village again!)

For now, though, she pushed all that away and tried to focus on what remaining time they had here.

At Fumu's signal, Bun shoved her in the back as hard as he could. Her arms flailed as she slipped across the patch of ice but she didn't manage to keep upright. She fell onto her butt within milliseconds but still laughed as her momentum kept her going until she finally stopped when she reached dirt again.

Romilly eased Kirby closer. "Let Kirby go next!"

"Okay!" Bun patted the closet spot of ice. "Come on, Kirby!"

"Uh… poy!" he muttered before flinging up his arms as any hesitation left, and he toddled over.

"I'm after!" Arlen said.

It took Bun a moment to figure out where to aim his push between Kirby's wings, his hands readjusting a couple times, but he finally managed to get a good push in against Kirby's back to send him "flying". "I want to get another turn," Bun added.

"I can push," Romilly offered. "I…" her words dropped off, and Fumu was the first to follow her gaze to where Sir Meta Knight apparently lingered mere feet from them.

Sneaking like always, Fumu internally deadpanned.

"Do we really have to go back so soon?" Bun asked. "Have you tried sending a comm to Sword and Blade?"

"… And how would you explain your absence to your parents?"

"Camping again?" he shrugged. "It's not lying."

"You will visit again. … You don't want more homework piling up, do you?"

"…" Bun's gaze narrowed. "The homework card? Really?"

Ultimately, Sir Meta Knight didn't react to Bun's words. Instead, his gaze took a moment to study each of the three. "Go stow your packs onboard and then come back to the group. You need to thank them for welcoming us."

"Alright," Bun sighed.

"Come on, Kirby," Fumu said, offering her hand, which Bun mimicked, and Kirby happily took both.

"Poy-po!"

Despite the small space, the children's footsteps echoed against the hatched metal that made up the inner surface of the cargo bay door. Many screens and almost a countless number of buttons and lights covered the walls at the speeder's cockpit, and from the children's vantage point, looked as if they were the frame, and Sir Lancelot at the helm, the picture.

"Morning, Sir Lancelot," they greeted him as they entered the cabin of the speeder.

"Good morning, little ones." Sir Lancelot turned back slightly in his chair at the helm. "Ready for a hopefully unexciting two hours of weaving through the landscape?"

"No," Bun replied.

Sir Lancelot chuckled at that and shook his head as he turned back, muttering something as his hand drifted over the controls again.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fumu's attention fell back onto Kirby. She drifted over, and she watched as he stared out towards the cluster of people gathering back by the new-main tent, again, chewing on his hand. She slipped her hand around Kirby's and gingerly pulled it from of his mouth. "Where's your teether? Kirby, you cannot keep chewing your hand. You'll get an infection," she spoke softly. With a glance back to the others, she said, "It's alright. Sir Meta Knight will be coming in a moment."

"Poy~"

"We'll see them again. Don't worry." Any further words were cut off, though, because just as her hand neared him, he slipped out from under her touch. "Wha- Kirby!"

She jogged after him at a slower pace as she wasn't really concerned that he would run off. She was pretty sure she knew what his goal was – those that weren't coming with them – but the color in her cheeks drained away as Kirby headbutted right between Ms. Morriphina legs. "Oh—" O-OHNONONO!

"Fledgling!" Ms. Morriphina's arms flailed as she struggled to keep her balance as Kirby squirmed beneath her.

As soon as Ms. Morriphina's surprised expression morphed into something harder, she knew Kirby had messed up and she feared just how much he may have. "Kirby! … Kirby, stop!" Once Fumu got closer, she could hear Kirby warbling dolefully. "He doesn't mean to be rude!"

"Yeah!" Bun said, suddenly beside her and also out of breath. "He doesn't normally try to crawl under people!"

"…" As Kirby settled, Ms. Morriphina did as well, and she gingerly eased down so she could firmly place both feet back on the ground.

Her expression was relaxing but Fumu was still worried. "Please don't be mad at him."

"We know he doesn't mean harm," Sir Meta Knight said.

"… Fledgling … fledgling," Ms. Morriphina tried in vain to get his attention. She bent down a little farther. "Little one," her voice softened, "you're no longer a nestling."

There was no obvious acknowledgement of her words nor of Kirby budging either.

"You have wings now to strengthen so you can explore the countless stars." There was a muffled "poyo" but it only served to further etch a sadness into her expression.

"He really doesn't mean anything," Fumu urged as the quiet stretched out.

"I'm not mad," Ms. Morriphina said passively.

"Come on, Kirby," Bun whispered as he squatted down, "that's kind of weird." From his position he could see Kirby's pinched expression as the puff laid there on his side, awkwardly and partially squashed between the cold dirt and Ms. Morriphina.

Fumu and Bun pacified for the moment, Sir Meta Knight walked around to the side flap of the tent and entered. Just inside, from where she stood, Morriphina glanced up to him before her attention fell back to Kirby clinging to her front. He neared, sighing as Kirby turned up to look at him. Those blue eyes had darkened to something a few shades deeper as tears were threatening to pool again.

…

They had opened the floodgate to difficulty…

…

and they were going to have to work with it.

"Kirby," Sir Meta Knight began but that feeling that he didn't really know what he was doing when it came to young flooded back. Working with nestlings was taught to medics in troops which meant it was something he – in the warrior track – wasn't taught a lick of, and seeing Kirby now, he felt that any wisdom he had collected on the subject over the years was moot. "I'll talk with the children."

"Are you sure?"

"They need to get home. … Will you have the strength for this?" Something in him wanted to laugh as he realized how he had just phrased the question. Once upon a time, she would have punched him off a cliff for it. Instead, her weary expression drifted back down to Kirby wordlessly and she placed a gentle hand on the fledgling's head.

They discussed – they knew that despite Morriphina not being able to recognize his energy and all the trouble that (and the traditional notions about self and one's well's signature) caused, Kirby would very likely recognize hers, and he had, and it had evidently set loose all the instincts that (an adulterated) culture and taboos couldn't score away and that distance and time couldn't wane to nothing.

Morriphina had declared that she was going to do it – not try – do it: let Kirby near enough, and she had finally done it… but where did they go from here?

Morriphina wanted to reclaim Kirby along with land to build her own rookery under her own terms. He knew that part of her was still doing it to fulfill the vow to spite her Grandmama, but they all had long since realized a safe place to live was hard to find. It was one of those things that you had to make yourself if you ever wanted it … … … at least, that is how it was cursed to be for them.

He also could tell how her flaring flame of a temperament, now much more so than whenever she had stolen a visit to him, had quenched to something more like martensite, and he wasn't sure how he felt about the universe doing that to her. Stronger, yes, but what had it done to her toughness – her ability to withstand the impacts and cracks that life throws and starts.

He wondered… he wondered if she was starting to feel the twisted form of heavy tiredness that writhed uncomfortably somewhere deep within him, and he worried.

"Yes," she finally said, pulling Sir Meta Knight a little further from his thoughts.

"The items on the list will be easy to gather, and I was going to return soon anyways. As soon as I have the items and can slip away, I'll send a comm to Sir Lancelot. And when things are set up for Kirby to return, that will be when we'll try again."

Kirby wouldn't want to lose the connections he had with the villagers, but the longer he was away without at least an appearance, the more troublesome reintroducing him may be.

She nodded, and reluctantly…

he slipped back out.

The ride back was a reserved affair. The worry and the sadness from the children were palpable in the cabin's air.

He couldn't let them return like this. The other villagers (their parents especially) would grow concern. If reassuring them that Kirby wasn't going to be permanently staying with the rookery didn't eased their concerns, then how about this: "Potentially, you both could come to visit again before winter really sets in when I come with another supply shipment. Not this next one but possibly the one after, depending on the state of thing."

That brightened their faces to a degree with some mixture of hope and curiosity.

"… You could use this time to make sure you know between you what to say," he added.

A smirk teased across Bun's face but it never could fully form. "We'll just say we made a bunch of campfires, learned more cooking recipes, and slipped on ice – 'cause we did," he said, but Fumu was still muted, shying away in an uncharacteristically diffident manner in Sir Meta Knight's opinion.

"… …" How did he get a child, one that tended to overthink, to realize they were not losing a friend?