A/N: Sebias: Well the town doesn't have much of a backstory per say- I'm just going off the assumption that the Survivor scene generally has less hrmmmm... inter-species friction as the books did (what with all the grey morality and whatnot) and decided to toss mice and weasels together. Nothing much beyond that but I do love that Thornhill's hill doesn't have any thorns on it :P
The scene in the bakery was very fun to write, mostly because I got to write Kew-Kew from Kew-Kew's perspective and he's got a very interesting... let's call it a 'narrative voice' (not sure if that's the right word) and the way he views the world is... well he's basically a gigantic dibbun when it comes to most things.
"Kraw! Kraw! Keeraw!" The eagle-that-was-not-an-eagle pounced upon a table with a great flap of his wings.
"Getit getit! Catch de eagle!" A swarm of dibbuns were in hot pursuit.
"KRAW!" Kew-Kew cawed in alarm, as one of the innumerable little mousies pounced upon his furless tail.
It had been a few days since Margaret's return and Kew-Kew's arrival, and what was normally a quiet, peaceful house in a neighborhood made up of quiet, peaceful houses had become something of a circus.
"Getit! Getit!" Cheered the leading dibbun, refusing to let go despite the wild wagging of the wearet's tail.
"Quick! Quick! Before it flies!"
Yet too late. Kew-Kew's ability to leap from tree to tree (or rather, furniture piece to furniture piece) came in handy once more, and before the armada of miniature mice could surround him, he had shimmied up the chandelier.
"Nooooo!" cried the dibbun clinging on to Kew-Kew's tail, as the floor grew further and further out of reach.
"Hihihihihi!" Kew-Kew giggled, his own paw tightening around the dibbun's tail. He pulled the squirming, squealing and laughing mouse to eye level, and did not hesitate to lick them across the face.
"Ew! Yucky!" came the chorus of the dibbuns below.
"Not as yucky as lil' mousie-worms," Kew-Kew retorted, doing his best to appear as if he'd swallowed something foul and unappetizing. "Not even hungry eagle can eat it."
The laughter and giggling that followed was interrupted by the voice of another creature.
"Children! Time for school!" It was the Violet-mousie. The one that took the dibbuns away and forced them to do such horrible-sounding things like 'learning' and 'education'.
"Nooo!" the young mice all chorused.
"Quick!" said one, taking shelter behind a cuckoo clock.
"Hide!" cried another, vanishing under the carpet.
But it was too little, too late. Violet opened the door before any more children could choose their escape routes, and all it took was a stern glance for the dibbuns to know that now was not the time for arguments.
Several goodbyes later and Kew-Kew was left to his own devices. The mouse family had been kind enough to give him an entire nest for himself, and needless to say he was nothing short of grateful.
They were a strange bunch of mousey-things to be sure, but not bad at all. Elizabeth and Tom-mousie were always kind and patient with him. They were old, fragile things with bent whiskers and wrinkled, smiling faces. Despite the fact that they were also convinced he was not an eagle (for reasons Kew-Kew knew not), Kew-Kew liked them very much.
He was less fond of their son, the Barth-mousie, who had attempted to water-cook him a day into his stay.
"C-cook n-no! Don't be ridiculous." Barth gave a nervous laugh. "I-it's just a bath you know? Help you wash up and stuff."
Of course the wearet had proved more than a match for the frightened preything, and had proceeded to serve the burly bully a taste of his own medicine.
"Ow! Ow! Ow! N-no! Not the soap! Not the soap! My EYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!"
Barth had not bothered him again.
Marr-garr-ett's other brother, the Hammond-mousie, was fun, but was more frightened of Kew-Kew than anybeast else. At times it was hard to be in the same room as the fear-stinking plump one...
"Is not fault of Kew-Kew if Hammond-mousie is perfect eagle bait," the wearet muttered crossly, as even now he detected the terrified mouse's unmistakeable stench.
The Violet-mousie kept her distance, yet Kew-Kew knew she was not all bad. She was after all, the mother of his dearest friends. The lil' mousie-worms. They were a loud, noisy bunch, and no doubt his own mother would have found them a delightful appetiser, but Kew-Kew loved them to bits. They were like more energetic versions of his own eggchicks and always had a dozen different games to play.
They were also the only creatures in the household wise enough to know an eagle when they saw one.
"Kew-Kew?"
"Marr-garr-ett!" And finally the nicest of them all, a mouse even his own mother would have (momentarily) hesitated to devour. Kind, patient, gentle- stubborn in her misguided thoughts on his identity but Kew-Kew could forgive her that one flaw- the Margaret-mousie. "Kraw! How is mousie today?"
"I'm well, thank you." Margaret smiled slightly. "I was just thinking about going to the library and wondered if you wanted to come."
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
The minute he stepped footpaw outside the door, Kew-Kew's nose wrinkled in disgust. The stench of fear floated through the air, as overpowering and offensive as the raised posterior of a deceased pheasant. He could feel a dozen eyeballs following his movements, from every window and on every street somebeast seemed determined to stare at him.
It was unnerving, being so exposed. Normally only the fearsome night-eagles could see him before he saw them, but here there was no escaping the gazes of the townsfolk- not when Margaret insisted he walk like an ordinary beast at least. They watched and watched, and he who had always been the hunter, felt himself the hunted. Kew-Kew shivered slightly.
"Now I stink too…" The wearet muttered under his growl.
Margaret had heard him of course. Margaret almost always heard him. But she made no reply beyond offering him her paw. Kew-Kew took it gratefully and could not help but notice that Margaret smelled like roses. That she no longer feared him put a spring in his step. Unfortunately, said spring vanished instantly at the sight of the library.
A huge block of solid rock, the likes of which one would never find in any forest, stood tall and cast a dark shadow over all below. It stretched up so high it seemed to touch the sky and scatter the clouds.
"All it misses is a bit of lightning in the background." Margaret mused. Besides her Kew-Kew was shaking and shivering like a leaf in a gale. The mousemaid gave his paw a reassuring squeeze (he returned the gesture by clamping down upon her paw with enough strength to crush all the bones within it), and lead him past the wide open jaws of the beast (the doors of the library).
Despite it's impressive size- the library was easily the largest building in the village- the library was not as well-stocked as one could expect. A dozen empty bookshelves greeted them and thrice as many said hello with nothing but a few manuscripts to boast of. The ignorant might have assumed that the populace were all avid readers, but Margaret knew that books were precious, rare and hard to come by.
Which was why she screamed as loudly as she did, when she spotted Kew-Kew chomping down on one.
Instinctively, she clamped her free paw over her mouth, but it was too late. A dozen beasts materialized from between the bookshelves, each as insistent as the other that silence be maintained. A moment later most of them screamed at the sight of the wearet (less so because he was eating one of their books, and moreso because Kew-Kew was Kew-Kew) and vanished back into the bookshelves.
"Books are not for eating." Margaret whispered furiously, once all the echoed screams had faded away.
Kew-Kew had the grace to look sheepish as he swallowed. "Iss very chewy…" he admitted. "But taste better than mousey-thing."
The mousemaid, unable to reply to that without raising her voice, gritted her teeth and dragged him away from the shelves as quickly as she could.
...
"How… curious…" said the head librarian, upon being confronted by the unlikely pair. He was an old weasel who had had the misfortune of being struck by lightning in his youth. His perpetually-frazzled fur and drooping whispers were a testament to this incident. Setting aside the tomes and manuscripts he had been poring over, he gestured for the pair to make themselves comfortable. "Yes very curious indeed, and you are quite sure you are an eagle?"
"I is," said Kew-Kew, taking another bite out of 'Ten Delicious Recipes To Excite Yer Friends With'.
"Well I'm afraid Mister Kew-Kew, that that is not the case. I know exactly what you are, and only need a glance to do so." The librarian paused for dramatic effect. "You are a wearet."
"A what?" Margaret blurted out, she glanced towards Kew-Kew who continued to chew- sullenly.
"A wearet, child," said the weasel, flipping through a book with practiced speed. "A very rare creature, especially in these parts. It is er- what happens when a weasel and a ferret grow too close."
"I ish not weahsel-shing," Kew-Kew muttered, from around another mouthful of paper and ink.
"Indeed, you are something else entirely. Owing to their rarity there is not much information on your kind. The majority die young, an unnatural combination you know- all sorts of issues with health and deformities… Have you always had such little fur?"
Kew-Kew nodded.
The librarian smiled. "Those that do survive childhood are usually employed by some horde, or some warlord or what will you. Their frightening countenance alone has laid waste to heroes big and small. You say you were adopted by an eagle-"
"Marr-garr-ett said that," Kew-Kew grumbled. "Kew-Kew said mother of Kew-Kew is eagle."
"But surely you must know that that can't be the case." The librarian found the page he was looking for, smiled very widely and turned it towards the wearet. "Surely even you must realize you have more in common with this fine fellow here than our feathered friends?"
Margaret flinched at the drawing. A roaring beast, with slobber dripping from it's long, deformed fangs. It's back was arched and deformed, one arm was longer than the other, it had a flat, squashed nose and it's ears did not seem to exist. Even the mousemaid had to admit that the resemblance was scant.
"Looks nothing like Kew-Kew," sniffed the wearet, his nose turned towards the ceiling. "No feathers, no mask, no smart. Wings of Kew-Kew are same size, back of Kew-Kew is not so bent, teeth of Kew-Kew is more yellow, nose of Kew-Kew is good sniffer, ears of Kew-Kew are on head of Kew-Kew. Iss not Kew-Kew, iss wearet. Kew-Kew is eagle."
The librarian ceased smiling at once, and turned, befuddled, towards Margaret. The mouse could only shrug at the look on his face.
"I-I don't, I mean. Does every eagle look the same?"
"No. Some eagles big, some eagles small. Some eagles flap-fly, some eagle no fly."
"Exactly, and so you see, not every wearet looks the same either. In fact, owing to the fact that wearets are hybrids you'll find rather... large differences just based on the individual mother and father. So while you might not look like this one, you can surely see there is some… similarity."
"Not similar." The wearet crossed his paws over his chest. "I is not wearet."
"You are," the librarian insisted, flicking through the book in search of another artistic rendition. "You are the spitting image of one."
"I is not spitting. But iffen weasel-thing is wanting spit, Kew-Kew will spit."
"He means you look like a wearet." Margaret translated.
"Weasel-thing is rude."
"I'm not being rude I'm just- aha! This one's better." The librarian put on his most winning smile, and flipped the book towards them.
...
"Rawr! Rawr! Krawr! We caught de eagle!"
Kew-Kew sighed dejectedly as the young mice swarmed all over him. They pulled at his whiskers, his tail, what little fur he had and even his eagle-feather skirt- yet the wearet payed them no mind whatsoever.
"Children! Time for dinner!"
Kew-Kew rolled onto his back and waved away the Violet-mousie's calls. For the first time in a long time, he found he had no appetite.
"Kew-Kew? Are you awake?"
The wearet did not make a sound until Margaret's footsteps had faded clean away.
He clambered out the window, just as the claws of dawn began to stretch across the horizon. The sun rose as Kew-Kew sat himself down atop the chimney.
"I is not eagle…" the wearet sniffed, his eyes growing as wet as the dewy grass below. His resemblance to the second picture had been uncanny… irrefutable. A painful truth. His mother had not been his mother. Her caring wings, and loving beak had all been a lie. His whole life had been a lie. "Kew-Kew is smallest, worstest, stupidest wearet. So stupid wearet-thing that Kew-Kew thinks Kew-Kew is eagle." He kicked at a loose tile, and felt marginally better at the sound of it shattering upon the street below. "Wearet that hunts eagles," he spat, disgusted at the very thought. "And momma… momma never tell Kew-Kew…"
"No, no! Kraw! Kew-Kew no flap-fly!" Large talons wrapped themselves around the young wearet's middle, and dragged him away from the edge and towards the center of their nest. "Bad Kew-Kew! Bad!"
"B-but all de oder egg-chickies flappy-flap," Kew-Kew complained as she set him down amidst the unhatched eggs.
"Kraw, you is just not that kind of bird," said his mother, gently caressing the top of his head.
"I is not bird-thing momma." Kew-Kew hissed, hopping to his feetpaw. "Is is wearet. Stupid, stinky wearet. Not eagle. Not eagle…" Breathing heavily, he stomped towards the edge of the roof. He knocked aside tile after tile in his frustrated sorrow.
"Birds have wings. Birds fly. Y- you don't."
The wearet shook away the memory. "We'll see mousie… we'll see." Kew-Kew growled. He glared down at the garden below, hating it as much as the drawings in the library, and jumped.
…
"Owwwieee…"
"Oh for the love of baked apricot tarts, Kew-Kew what were you thinking?" Elizabeth huffed. "Jumping from a roof like that, and in the early morning no less? At a time reserved for sleeping? Heaven help me boy, that was stupid of you."
"Lucky you landed on the rose-garden really." Barth was saying. "Imagine if you'd hit your head on the fence..."
"I'd rather not imagine that." Margaret shuddered, and picked a thorn free of the wearet's foot. "In any case we're lucky the flowers were there."
"Pity about the thorns," Hammond muttered, pulling out another of the prickly little things.
"I tried to flap," Kew-Kew sniffed. "T-to be eagle again." He winced as another thorn was tugged away. The wearet sobbed. "But I fail!"
"Perhaps it's for the best son." Tom placed a consoling paw on the wearet's shoulder. "Being an eagle looks mighty dangerous."
Kew-Kew merely sobbed louder in response.
Elizabeth shot her husband a look, and Tom scurried off with a mumble about getting breakfast ready. "Well that's the last of them," the mouse-mother announced- tossing away the final thorn. "Try to rest up dear, and don't even think about doing anything like that again."
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Pity and guilt chewed away at Margaret as she chewed her breakfast. Aside from the very real danger that Kew-Kew would get himself killed in his attempts to prove he was an eagle, a simple fact remained to tear her apart. The wearet had been happy in his ignorance. What right did she or any library book have to take that away from him?
"How are you feeling?" she asked a short while later, Having brought him a breakfast tray.
"Bad." Kew-Kew admitted. He looked smaller than ever, his eyes red and puffy. "Lotsa hurts." He sniffed at the food but turned away quickly. "I is not hungry Marr-garr-ett. Feed the mouseyworms."
"Food would do you some good really." Margaret dangled a pancake in front of his nose. "And whatever happened to being the er- biggest, bestest hungriest eagle, eh?"
"Stop! Please!" Kew-Kew whined and threw his paws over his ears in a desperate attempt at blocking out the noise. "Don't mousey-thing. I is not stupid. Now mousie feel bad for Kew-Kew and say alla nice things about Kew-Kew. How Kew-Kew is eagle, how mousey was wrong- but mousey is lying! Marr-garr-ett is just trying to make Kew-Kew feel good." The wearet lowered his arms and blew his nose into his wrist.
"Well… I won't deny that that's what I was going to do." Margaret pulled up a stool and sat down. "But I won't do it now. Not after you asked so nicely. So… you're a wearet."
"Don't remind Kew-Kew," he said with a sniffle, turning away from her. "Go away mousie-thing."
"My nest. My rules." Although technically this was her brother's room. "Please look at me."
Muttering and grumbling under his breath about how he should have eaten her while he had the chance, Kew-Kew turned to face her. His eyes fell upon the piece of paper she was holding, and flinched away from it.
It was the second drawing the librarian had showed them. A wearet that, while not lacking in fur, undeniably resembled Kew-Kew, roared at them both.
Very slowly, Margaret tore the page in half.
Kew-Kew gasped.
Please don't make me feel bad about this... Margaret cleared her throat. "You might be a wearet. You might not be. But you are definitely an eagle. You see, what you are in body isn't quite as important as what you are in spirit. And you most certainly have the spirit of an eagle."
"Kraw! Mousie is trying to be smart again. Mousie said Kew-Kew is not eagle, and mousie was right."
"Mousie was wrong," Margaret retorted. "Besides, you can be both."
"No tricky, mousie. Iss not true." The wearet crossed his arms with a huff and turned away from her. A moment later he turned back towards the mousemaid. "How can Kew-Kew be both?"
"Well, if you are a wearet, you've been one since you were born. But you've also been an eagle until yesterday. Cream and chestnuts, didn't you come from an egg?"
Kew-Kew opened and closed his mouth, unable to think of any argument.
"Think of it like… the way I'm a gardener," Margaret explained. "I'm a mousey-thing, but I'm also a er- planty-thing, right?"
"B-but but mousie said I is not eagle! Mousie say Kew-Kew no fly-"
"But you've never been able to fly. Which means whether or not you can fly should have nothing to do with whether or not you're an eagle."
"But all the other-"
"Kew-Kew. My point is that you can be whatever you want to be. You want to be an eagle? Then be an eagle. Nothing's stopping you. Not me. Not my family. And certainly not some dusty old drawing in a library book."
It took a minute or two for her words to sink in, yet Kew-Kew already looked far more cheerful than before. "So I is eagle?"
"The sweetest one I know."
Grinning, the wearet pulled Margaret close and hugged her tight. This hug was an improvement from his first.. well at least it did not end with her dangling from the treetops...
"Thank you Margaret-mousie."
"You're welcome Kew-Kew."
He released her and gestured excitedly for the breakfast platter, which he began to eat from immediately.
Happiness was a precious, priceless thing. And if he had to be an eagle to be happy, the lack of logic could be forgiven.
"So…" he said, halfway through his third pancake. "Mousie nest… mousie rules… should Kew-Kew go back to nest of Kew-Kew?"
The mousemaid had not expected the question. "W-well… that's entirely up to you I suppose. You can stay here if you want, I don't think my parents would complain too much. The dibbuns definitely won't. Rolf might if he gets back, but that's a problem for later. If you'd prefer to go back to your er- nest of course, then you're welcome to."
"Hmmm…" The wearet chewed thoughtfully. "Is lonely in nest, is nice here b-but… eggchickies." He paused for thought, before placing his paws together and grinning hopefully. "Would mousie family be angery if eggchickies stay too?"
Footnote: And so concludes the story of Kew-Kew! As usual big thanks to Keldor for helping me get all this cleaned and polished up for your reading purposes. I had a lot of fun writing this little sidefic- I daresay more than I might've had if he had gotten into the contest proper (admittedly I only say this because killing Kew-Kew would have been incredibly hard to do)- and I hope you enjoyed reading it. There will be more Kew-Kew in the near future of course but you know the way things are... lots of projects/not as much time as I'd like to write them and I make no promises when it comes to dates and timings and whatnot. Having said that, some of you eagle-eyed folk may have noticed I'm building up to the next couple of drabbles... or in the case of some of you I may have said it aloud...
Regardless, thanks for reading!