Robin made her move in the dead of night. Armed both with lots of unnecessary information on her target (her client had gotten very drunk and very lippy with the details) as well as her trusted dagger, the vixen pushed her way through the vibrant, sprawling streets of Plomplemoof. It was a miracle anybeast got any sleep. Where most cities had a vibrant night life, Plomplemoof simply had a life. The roar of the crowds, hungry for blood even in the witching hours, echoed across the stars.
It made getting into the Barfing Bird easy. With everybeast busy rushing to and fro to find their favourite nocturnal fighters, hardly anybeast noticed the vixen sneaking into the inn clearly marked 'closed'. Those that did were wise to keep their silence.
Things got a bit more complicated now. Drawing the darkness about herself, Robin slunk across the empty dining room. Silent and stealthy. For dramatic effect she ducked behind the bar, her ears swivelling back and forth attempting to pick up any noises. Her line of work did not go well with witnesses. Finding none, she tucked into a roll and scrambled down the staircase. Silent. Deadly. Efficient. Fast.
Every few steps the staircase beneath her squeaked like a mouse- perhaps they were trying to warn her target! She brushed that thought aside, knowing full well that mice didn't really live under stairs and that that was a vicious rumour spread by rats. It did not take long for Robin to find the room marked for death. A quick sniff was all it took to confirm the wearet- and by extension the mouse's- presence. Suppressing the urge to knock politely on the door, the vixen let herself in.
Her eyes at once fell upon the target. Or rather, the pair of lumps snoozing silently under a blanket.
They were sleeping together! And Robin wasn't really one to judge, but it was a mental image she could have lived without and now was one she might have to confront head-on. For better or for worse. Raising her dagger high, she dove at the lump that looked most like a mouse. Her blade plunged into the blanket, tearing it to shreds. Plumage flew through the air, and horrified, the vixen realized she had gone straight for the wearet's skirt! Hastily swapping targets, Robin slashed at another bulge, and was met with more feathers. How much plumage did this guy wear!? But there was no time to consider such trivialities. The wearet was screaming! Sounding the alarm! Her target would be awake! Alert! Harder to kill!
Things only became apparent when a light shone behind her, and the grumpy toad who ran the Barfing Bird was scowling at the doorway. Robin Merriweather had assassinated a pair of pillows. She had also provided the screams.
"Not the first to come lookin' for the wearet," the grumpy amphibian slurred, rubbing sleep from his wrinkled eyes and sounding more bored than anything; as if a dead customer was part of the trade.
"I'm not," she replied, brushing feathers from her fur. Surprisingly, that wasn't a lie. "I'm more interested in the mouse he keeps around." She paused momentarily, considered her options and in the end figured there was no harm in asking. "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
The toad shrugged. "Crazy feathered lad took him with him when he left. Said something about catapults."
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For his most excellent plan to work, Kew-Kew would need to cover a lot of ground before Rolf could wake up and stop him. Not that Rolf could, of course, Kew-Kew was helping him whether the mouse liked it or not.
Being an eagle, Kew-Kew knew, as all birds did, that flying was by far the fastest way to travel. Unfortunately, his flight feathers had never grown in. Throughout his life Kew-Kew had been forced to improvise. He could climb better than any bird and did things with knots and ropes that boggled the minds of lesser avians. It wasn't quite the same as flying, but he had found dozens of ways to launch himself into the air in imitation of it.
To his delight, the beasts of Plomplemoof had done something similar and called it a Katerpulled.
Having tucked the lightly snoring form of Rolf under one wing, Kew-Kew made his way towards the edge of the walltops, where the Great Flapping Branches were kept. To his delight a single, badly-bruised shrew stood guarding them.
"OI!" the guardsbeast bellowed, squinting at the approaching figure. "Who goes-"
"ShushushushuSHUSH!" Kew-Kew whisper-screeched. "Mousie is sleepy!"
As he came into the shrew's torchlight, Kew-Kew recognised him as the same one that had arrested them after the brawl with Barrumtum.
The shrew must have recognised him as well for he dropped the professionalism alongside his voice. "Ugh! You two again. I don't know what you're planning but if it's an illegal fight I want no part in it! As a matter of fact, I have half a mind to lock the both of you up here and now for setting that mole on me."
"I is not here to fight." The wearet squawked indignantly. "Just want to fly back to nest." He gestured towards the forests further beyond Plomplemoof.
The shrew snorted. "Real stubborn 'bout that eagle gimmick, eh?"
"Is not gimmy," Kew-Kew glowered. "Is what I is."
The guardsbeast squinted at him and then shrugged. "Fine by me then, go flying. Dunno why you had to come here for that though, most birds just-" he followed Kew-Kew's claw to the nearest catapult. The dots were rather easy to put together from there. "You're crazy!" the shrew exclaimed. "Those are… they're only ceremonial! They work obviously, but they're not supposed to be used." The guard stood there, nursing his bruise as he pondered the request. "But I've always wanted to fire one and you obviously are very desperate to get home as soon as possible… and nobeast would know?"
"Just Kew-Kew and shrew."
With a flourish and very little further thought the shrew lead the way towards the siege engine. He filled it's bucket with hay and a blanket. "So that it's nice and comfy," he explained, gesturing for the eagle to clamber on.
"Smart shrew," said Kew-Kew, who fit rather snugly inside. "Much thoughtful."
"My pleasure," the guardbeast grinned and fired.
Kew-Kew became a shooting star as he rolled head over heels through the twinkling sky. The air rushed through his fur like water in a stream, as a comet's tail of feathers were left floating in his wake. He stared up in silent awe at the stars that were now so close he could reach out and touch them.
Down below, Robin Merriweather's jaw nearly came loose as the eagle's silhouette shot past the moon.
Kew-Kew wanted to whoop, he wanted to laugh, a part of him wanted to cry. It was another cheap trick, a way to skirt past his lack of real plumage.
But it felt so real.
It was only when he started descending that he realised Rolf was not in his claws but spinning through the air a little bit in front of him. Somehow, the mouse was still snoozing peacefully, and blissfully oblivious to the rapidly approaching treeline.
Squawking in terror, the wearet lunged forwards but found the mouse lay just a bit out of reach. He clawed at and raked in nothing but air until finally he reeled his roommate into the relative safety of his paws.
By then, however, there was no time to brace for impact. His backside hit the side of a tree hard. Instead of breaking, however, the bough bent backwards, building momentum.
Kew-Kew swallowed audibly and uttered a nervous "Kraaw…"
Rolf dreamt of flowery meadows and party horns and strawberry picnics in the sunshine.
The tree snapped back into place and the two were once more floating through the abyss.
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Most assassins, upon being confronted by the sight of their quarry flying into space, would have given up and gone home. Not Robin Merriweather.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," the guard shrew insisted. "It would go against everything I stand for!"
"Don't play dumb with me," Robin snapped, pulling out a coin to bribe him with. "The toad mentioned catapults and wearets don't fly no matter how many feathers they wear. So save your breath and get that thing ready for another go."
The shrew sniffed suspiciously at the coin and pulled a face. "I charged the feathery one twopence."
Biting back a growl, Robin relented and withdrew a second coin. The shrew snatched them both up in a heartbeat and skipped off to pat the bucket. "Ready when you say so missy!"
Robin hesitated for a moment, knowing full well that what she was about to do was nothing short of insane. But the sweet, irresistible jangle of gold beckoned her forth. The thought of holding it's familiar weight steeled her resolve. All the ways she could possibly spend her earnings tore through any and all second thoughts.
At least, until she was sitting in the bucket. That was when the rational part of her mind started working. "You know what actually? This is a terrible idea!"
"BOMBS AWAY!" Looking far too delighted by the prospect of sending another beast to join the stars, the guardsbeast fired.
Where Kew-Kew had soared and swam through the sky like the majestic half-eagle he was, Robin screamed through it like a demented meteor. There was no elegant trail of feathers, no delight at the moon's newfound proximity, only terror as she cut a path straight towards the trees below.
Fully aware now that this had been a bad idea, Robin slammed into branch after branch. Each one resetting the course of her fall and seeming to dislocate another part of her body. A paw shot out in desperation closed around a branch and with a sigh of relief Robin came to a halt.
As all branches did when the sudden weight of a fox added to their long list of sorrows, the branch snapped.
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Kew-Kew awoke the next morning feeling as sore and as battered as a fried fish. Rolf had somehow slept through the entirety of the night's journey and was now snoozing peacefully in a corner of Kew-Kew's old nest. The wearet sat up and stretched, and then grinned. Today was going to be an excellent day. Crawling over to the mouse, Kew-Kew gave Rolf a nudge.
"Waaakey waaaaaaakey," he whispered, picking up a stray feather to tickle the mouse's nose until Rolf came to with a sneeze. "Goooooooood mooooooooooooooooorning!" the eagle boomed.
As Rolf's tired eyes adjusted to the new environment he took in the pillowy, itchy softness of the feathers beneath him, the plethora of bent or otherwise misshapen pointed sticks and Kew-Kew's uncomfortably wide grin.
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice beginning to shake as he came to the realization that he'd been kidnapped and was now very literally at the wearet's mercy.
"Nest of Kew-Kew!" Kew-Kew gestured grandly at the hollowed trunk. "Marr-garr-ett said was kowzy."
"Right…" Rolf sat up and loosened his scarf a little, the better to swallow down his bubbling terror. "So er- why am I here?"
"To become champie-thing!"
Dumbstruck by the sheer ridiculousness of the reply, Rolf blinked. "What?"
"You is gonna be biggest, bestest champie-thing in Plomplemoof," replied Kew-Kew. "And I is gonna help." He gestured around at the nest. "Here is where Kew-Kew grew into big, strong eagle that I is. You is not eagle, but you can be big, strong mouse. All Rolfie needs to do is learn to fly!"
"Fly?" and just like that the terror was gone, replaced with the inexplicable feeling of not being sure whether or not one was having their tail pulled. He stretched his arms to the side. "With what wings?"
"Not fly like eagle!" Kew-Kew waved him away. "Fly like Kew-Kew!" the wearet insisted. "Is more ways to fly than just flapping. Come, I shows you."
He lead Rolf down a short passage towards the tree trunk's exit, which was currently blocked by a boulder. "This is door," he explained. "Outside door is Land of Kew-Kew. To go to Land of Kew-Kew door must be open. Opening door make Kew-Kew strong." To demonstrate, Kew-Kew rolled the boulder to and fro so that Rolf got a few good glimpses at the lush forest beyond. "So opening door makes Rolfie strong." Rolling the boulder back into place so that it was firmly shut, Kew-Kew gestured for Rolf to try.
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"I is not joking," the eagle said earnestly.
Rolf's ears fell, weighed down by glumness. "Do you really think I can move that thing?"
"Kraw! Don't give up so fast!" Kew-Kew gave him a reassuring headpat. "You didn't even try!"
"It is four times my size!"
"Will make you four times stronger!"
"Forget it. I don't need to learn to fly. I don't need to learn to fight. I just need to apologize to Ralph and return all the trophies and tell my family the truth and… and pick a career path more suited to my talents."
"But Rolfie wanted to be champie-thing. So Rolfie should try! But this time really try! No lying, no stealing, just winning."
The mouse dragged his paws over his face. "Is this your idea of making it up to me?"
"You want to be champie-thing!" Kew-Kew put on his most winning smile."And Kew-Kew can help!"
"Somehow, I doubt that." Rolf shook his head. "You've helped enough Kew-Kew. You ruined Carrabas. Ruined Ralph. Ruined me. Can you please stop helping?!"
"And I is sorry about that!" the eagle spluttered. "Kew-Kew already said so! Kew-Kew is sorry, and Kew-Kew wants Rolf to stop being angry at him, so takes him to Land of Kew-Kew to teach how to be fighting-thing and then Rolfie is only more angry!"
The mouse ignored him and sighed. "Just take me back to Plomplemoof."
"No!" Kew-Kew snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.
"No?" Rolf blinked, dreading the answer.
"No." Kew-Kew repeated, thrusting his snout into the air and turning away so swiftly that his tail barreled into the mouse. "I is not! And Rolfie can't make me! Not until Rolfie learns how to be big, strong champie-thing. Rolfie is not abandoning dreams!"
"Kew-Kew. I will never. Ever. Be big. Strong. Or successful. That is why I stole Ralph's trophies. That is why I lied to my parents. You will never be able to fly and I will never be able to win. That is the way life works. So sorry. But. No."
"But Kew-Kew did flap-fly!" the wearet retorted. "Because Kew-Kew tried! And Rolfie should try too! And Rolfie is not leaving until Rolfie does try!"
Storming back up the passageway Kew-Kew left the mouse to face the door.