After my encounter with the whiteface, I had passed two full moons spying on the twolegs. Surprisingly, even if I had passed a lot of time trying to understand how the transformations worked, these two moons had been more than enough to learn how to speak their strange language and discover how they behaved. I wish I could understand why I was able to learn their language and their behaviour so fast but, for now, I could only think of three reasons and couldn't tell which one, if any, was correct; I would have to ask that to the friendly twoleg when I would meet her.

The first reason was that, since I had met the friendly twoleg, I was able to understand the world much better than I used to. What used to make no sense or looked like magic was now easy to comprehend. In example, let's take the cores. Before meeting the friendly twoleg, I couldn't understand them. They appeared to me as some weird beasts: they allowed some twolegs to get inside them but screamed when others wanted to do the same thing, they did nothing to protect themselves apart calling for help and were so clumsy that they managed to run into each other. Now, I knew why they were so weird: the twolegs built them. As incredible as it might seem, twolegs had figured out how to create life; even if, unfortunately for them, they seemed to be unable to create intelligent life and, as a result, could only build stupid beasts that depended on them for everything. Personally, I didn't see the point of doing that but, as I said, twolegs are weird.
The second reason, also related to whatever had happened to me, was that I wanted to learn. Before my Encounter, I liked to learn something new – just in case it could help the herd – but it was always passive; I never bothered to actively seek an answer unless I was sure it would directly help my herd. However, after the friendly twoleg had talked to me, I wanted to learn. I wanted to actively seek the answers to the how and why of this world, no matter if it would help the herd or if it would never be of any use in my entire life. Learning something new – in example, why the cores could be so dumb and clumsy – felt like eating delicious grass in a beautiful wallow; I think the twolegs called this need to learn "curiosity".
Finally, the third reason was simply that twolegs were laughably predictable. Sure, they all boasted about how they could do whatever they liked even if it went against their instincts but, in the end, even a calve could predict their actions. The easiest (and also funniest) way to notice it was to transform into a woodhorn – which I had touched while trying to figure out how the transformation worked – and place myself in the middle of a core's path. At first, the twolegs would stop to look at me but, after some time, their beasts would become angry and would start to shout at me – quickly imitated by the twolegs inside. The sole exception was if there were calves inside the beast. When it was the case, the calves would always ask their parents to stop and would try to touch me if I went close enough. I had done that a lot of time just to amuse myself. It was hilarious to see the twolegs do the exact same thing every time only to hear them brag over how "free" they were to make their own decisions.
Anyway, I have to stay on track. Twolegs were so strange and funny I could talk about them for many moons.

So, as I was saying, I had passed enough time spying on the twolegs to become quite familiar with their language. I was able to formulate, in my mind, the answers I could give to a twoleg I was speaking to fast to enough to maintain a conversation and, thanks to a lot of practice and a bit of luck, I was also able to make the correct sounds with a twoleg mouth. In theory, I could easily act as if I were one of them by simply going in a large twoleg wallow and pictured myself as a twoleg until I turned into one. After that, all I needed to do was to stay focused and make sure to appear as "twoleg" as possible.
Of course, that was only in theory. I hadn't tested my ability yet, by fear of doing something wrong and being captured by a mean twoleg; the only interactions I had with them were in my whiteface form or in the woodhorn one.
But this Sun was the Sun. This was the Sun in which I would, for the first time, go in the big twoleg's wallow and act as if I were in their herd.
I took a mouthful of grass for good luck and pictured myself as a whiteface until, a few moments later, I had become one.

As soon as I arrived in their wallow, I went in my favourite hiding spot and turned back into myself before turning once again in a whiteface. Since my first day spying on the twolegs, I had taken the habit of regularly turning back into a buffalo: I couldn't be sure if it was needed or not but I had heard a mother tell a story to her calves about a father who was transformed into a barker because he wasn't kind to his calves and had ten Suns to help them or he would stay as a barker forever; it was probably just a story but, just to be sure, I had took the decision to turn back into myself regularly – flying was fun, obviously, but I didn't want to spend the rest of my life eating squickers instead of delicious grass.
After taking a few breaths to get used to the fantastic hearing of the whiteface, I took off and searched for a twoleg with whom I could test myself. Despite having practiced for a long time, I was quite nervous about what I was about to do, as I didn't have any margin of error. If whichever twoleg I tested myself with discovered I was actually a buffalo, the mean twolegs would capture me; if it happened, they would use some kind of twoleg technology and, as one of the good humans had said, "tap into my memory". I didn't know why, but I knew it would be bad for the good twolegs and, indirectly, to my herd.
So, just to be sure it wouldn't happen (and to be a little less nervous), I decided to practice a conversation for one last time before the final test. It wouldn't take a lot of time – twolegs were easy to find and spoke a lot – and it would ensure I didn't put my herd in danger.

Using the upwinds to fly without efforts, I travelled toward a part of the wallow where I could find a lot of human dens – I think they called it suburb – and started to look for twolegs talking to each other. Of course, because things had to be difficult on the most important day, I couldn't find any opportunities despite the amazing hearing of the whiteface. Every time I found a twoleg, he was already inside his den and, most of the time, in front of his image-box to watch other twolegs run into each other; sometime, the twolegs would get happy when a twoleg inside the image-box would get near the end of the wallow but other time, he would be angry.
But difficult didn't mean impossible: I was a buffalo trying to defend his herd and nothing would stop me, save for my death. Hence, like any buffalo would have done, I continued to search and, just as I was about take a break to find somewhere to turn back into myself, I heard a noise I often heard in the twoleg's dens: buttons being typed on a telephone – which, for those who don't know, is a small animal who did nothing but listen to the twolegs after calling them. I silently thanked the whiteface's exceptional hearing, turned toward the den in which the twoleg was and, after a short flight, landed in front of his window just in time to see him talk to the telephone.

"Hi. I imagine you received the letter I sent you?"
I did. It was a very pretty letter even if I prefer the letter T.
I knew it was unlikely that this was what the small animal would answer, but my goal was mostly to see if I could think of something to say in twoleg fast enough to pass as one of them.
"Good, good. And I suppose you also received my… instructions."
I did receive them. I managed to understand them, even if they were as complicated as Ikea's instructions.
The last part was twoleg's humour. I didn't know who Ikea was or why his instructions were complicated, but I knew twolegs found it funny.
"Why? Because I'm not enough of a fool to announce to Visser 3 we lost to the bandits once again."
Visser 3?
I was sure I had heard this name before but… where?
"Sure, you could do that. Nothing can stop you… But you never know what an investigation can reveal. "
Visser 3… Visser 3…Visser 3… Where did I hear it? I knew I had heard that one! I knew it was important! Think!
"You know what I'm talking about. Just like I know the Visser would be… displeased… to learn your loyalty goes to his sworn enemy."
Visser… Enemy…
Gaah! I knew I was close! Why couldn't I remember that?
" Yes. Oh, one last thing before I quit. You may be pleased to know that, if something were to happen to me, a few friends of mine would immediately release this information. I hope you will the good choice. "
Visser… Enemy… friends… good…
The friendly twoleg!
That's where I had heard of Visser 3!
He was the chief of the mean twolegs!
I had to tell the friendly twoleg what I had just heard. I didn't know enough about the mean twolegs nor could I speak the twoleg language well enough to be sure the good herd wasn't in danger.

I immediately took off and headed for the first place where I could turn back into myself without being seen. I didn't care about passing as a twoleg anymore. What I did care about was finding the friendly twoleg as soon as possible.
Beside, it was the best option. She wasn't like the other twolegs. She was friendly. If I didn't manage to pass as a twoleg, she wouldn't capture me. She would help me just like she had helped me last time. On top of that, if I practiced with her, I would have the occasion to talk to the leader of her herd and, hopefully, he would allow me to fight with them. Immediately after reaching this conclusion, I started to transform into a whiteface. I knew it was the best thing to do to protect my herd.
I took off as soon as my body allowed it – before I had even fully transformed – and flew as quickly as I could to my usual hiding place. I knew – well, thought – that the friendly human was more likely to be in that part of her wallow.
For the first time since I had met the friendly twoleg, I didn't flew around to spy on her species. I wasn't flying aimlessly or stopped when I heard twolegs talking together. I wasn't paying attention to what twolegs were doing or saying. It wasn't important anymore. This time, I was only looking at their faces. This time, my flight was planned and organized. This time, I wasn't flying wherever I felt like it but in a planned pattern as to be sure to cover as much ground as I could. And, unlike before, I wasn't planning to return to my wallow to practice what I had learned every two "turn-backs". I would search until I would be exhausted to the point where I would barely be able to fly back to my wallow.
This decision was, without doubt, the most important of my life. During the last two moons, I had often heard the twolegs say that fate had a strange taste of humour. At the time, I couldn't understand what it meant: when they said it, they were always talking about a sad story, not a funny one. But now, I understood. It didn't mean the story was funny. It meant that the causes of the story were funny, according to twoleg's humour.
I guess it would apply to my story too. It wasn't sad, but the causes would probably be funny for a twoleg. The reason why I would, hopefully, find the friendly twoleg was because of the very decision I had just taken. Which I had taken because I had heard a mean twoleg talk to his telephone. Which happened because I had been spying on the twolegs before. And the only reason I had been doing that was to fight the mean twolegs – which was something I wanted to do just because the friendly twoleg had told me that they were mean. I would need to ask the twoleg-buffalo to be sure, but I was certain twolegs would find it funny.
Anyway.
Now was not the time to ponder over twoleg's humour. Now was the time to search for the friendly twoleg-buffalo as long as I could without falling asleep inside the twoleg's wallow.

Which, sadly, didn't meant a really long time. Transforming into myself and into a whiteface immediately afterward demanded a lot of energy and it was far from being the Dark when I had to go back to my wallow.
Of course, I was a little disappointed. I knew it was the best thing to do and that there was no chance whatsoever that I could find the friendly twoleg because of how exhausted I was but I still felt like I wasn't doing as much as I should to protect my herd. I hadn't searched for a very long time – due to how tiring transforming was – and had barely covered a small portion of the wallow. If my search continued at that rate, it would take me moons to find her – and that was assuming she would stay at the same place during the whole time I would look for her. Searching the way I had done so far was a lost cause: even if I could transform in a fastbird – which, for the record, often tried to eat me when I was in my whiteface form – I wouldn't be fast enough to look in the entire wallow fast enough to find her. I had to think of where she would likely be before trying to find her again.
But, again, I was too exhausted to do that today. At best, I wouldn't be able to think of anything; at worse, I would reach incorrect conclusions and search in the wrong place. For now, I had to go in my wallow to eat and relax for the remainder of the day.
I looked around for the last time – just in case – and turned toward my wallow. Soon after, I changed my mind: instead of grazing in my wallow, as usual, why not graze somewhere else for a change? I could remember a place where the grass looked quite delicious and, if I were lucky enough, I would find a way to turn back and graze without being seen.

Pushed by the sentiment of curiosity (but mostly hunger), I quickly flew toward my destination and looked for if there was any twolegs around the place I planned to eat – the last thing I wanted was to be spotted by a mean twoleg.
And then, while I was about to land and turn into myself, I heard her voice.
The only twoleg voice I could recognize without difficulty.
The friendly twoleg was there.

I flew above her and started to fly in circle, wondering how I should tell her I was here, and heard her tell to another twoleg that they should go in the barn. Without thinking of what I was doing, I turned toward the nearest barn I could find, hoping she was talking about that one, and swooped inside before landing as soon as I could. I wasn't tired anymore; the prospect of talking to the good calves was too exciting.
Then, knowing I needed to be in my twoleg form to talk to her, I quickly changed back into my own self and transformed into a twoleg the moment I was done; I didn't bother to transform with the weird fur they all had: twolegs only needed it because they were too weak to handle the environment and, anyway, it would have taken too much time.

Before I could even get on my two "hooves", I saw a redtail perch above me. Almost at the same time, a twoleg calve ran in front of me with a look of surprise and incomprehension; she was one of the good twolegs.
I had finally found the herd of the friendly twoleg.