Disclaimer #1: Angry Birds is © Rovio Entertainment Ltd. I do not claim ownership of the characters in this story.
Disclaimer #2: Only last night and this morning did I read Sammy Heroes' story, "Blue Lullaby". In said story, the writer also had an older female character who ran an orphanage and whom had raised Red. They also had Chuck reading a newspaper while talking to Red as I had in mine. I'll take it to my grave when I say that I had no idea that the same elements in my story were also in theirs. So, Sammy Heroes, my apologies for this. I wasn't at all stealing from your story and was legitimately just writing my own thing. Looks like we're both of the same mind. Ha-ha. (08/24/16)
"Mmm. Hm. Hm. Not this. Not this. Not this. Mm. Mm. Nope. NOPE. NnnnnOPE. HA! Likeshedeveradmitthat... AHHHH! OH MY GOSH. NO WAY."
Chuck was sitting on a three-legged bar stool at the little bar counter at the back of his house, sipping espresso and reading the morning newspaper, flipping through the pages like it was nobody's business. For some reason, his nest hosted a bar even though he barely used it. Perhaps he just hoped a party would come to call; that someone would suggest spending a sleepover at his pad and socialize instead of him having to organize all the get-togethers for a change...
But whatever. Not that it mattered. There were far more important things to focus on at the moment. Penelope had been caught stealing hatchling clothes and there was a screaming headline for it splattered all over the front page of The Early Worm.
"You done got snitched, girl...," Chuck muttered to himself, pulling his arm away from propping up his cheek, arresting the coffee mug, and attacking it with another sharp sip... hiccuping a little as he put down the cup.
There was a rather mischievous grin on his face... Though Chuck was known to have a sensitive side, it rarely surfaced, popping up for a much-needed breath of air only when deemed absolutely necessary. The vexatious side of him - the almost ever-present playful, cocky, slightly annoying side - that was much more persistent loved gossip, and this particular story definitely qualified as 100% juicy. He eyes darted back and forth as he perused the article, his mind working almost as fast as his body, going on overload as it read through the latest news unsettlingly fast.
Flip, flip, flip...
All of Chuck's flipping couldn't drown out the distant sound of a slight creak outside his front door...
"It's open!" he called out, attention still mainly focused on the newspaper.
The door creaked open and Red stepped over the threshold. He was sporting a very worn, very dusty backpack that had probably once been a dark brown... but was now more of a puke yellow in color. For someone who was normally very organized he looked an uncharacteristically disheveled mess. There was wet sand clinging to his talons, his head feathers stuck out at odd angles, and his expression reeked of disconcert and agitation.
Chuck, of course, did not notice this immediately, but he did smile at the arrival of his best friend on the doorstep.
"How the heck did you know it was me?!" snapped Red, a little too nervously.
Chuck only shrugged and smiled... perhaps a bit cockily.
"Ugh," Red grunted, trying... and failing... to smooth out his ruffled feathers. At least he managed to scrape most of the sand off his feet. "Chuck..," he continued, breathing heavily, "... we have to talk."
Chuck didn't answer at first, but slowly put down his cup and newspaper.
"Is this about the tomato stains?" Chuck asked, not at all tentatively. As he talked, he pushed against the counter top to slowly swivel around in his chair to face Red. "Because I swear... I did not eat the..."
But at this, he took a sharp intake of breath before zooming up to Red and examining every inch of him.
"Red, what happened to you?!" Chuck gasped, pulling up Red's right wing to look under his arm. "Who did this to you? Was it Bomb? Matilda?" he rolled off, inspecting Red's eyes, his beak, his legs... "Oh my gosh. Red...," he whispered, actually zipping off to hide behind the counter and peek out at Red from behind it. "Are you doing... seed?"
At this, Red was speechless. Chuck's overreaction seemed to have sparked life back into the old Red, however, for he grabbed hold of his composure a little. He stared at the kinetic little canary, mouth hanging open.
"Chuck, when have I ever done something like that? Do I honestly look like that kind of guy?"
"Mmm. I dunno. You might be," replied the little speed demon, resting his cheek on his knuckles and giving Red a rather presumptuous grin.
"Chuck, don't even act like you don't do that stuff yourself," Red boldly retorted.
"Huh...?" questioned Chuck, lifting his cheek off his hand a touch... and actually looking a little hurt.
"Come on, man. How else could you go that fast?"
"Oh no, actually. It's all natural," Chuck brightened up, understanding then what Red was saying.
"Pff. Yeah, right," said Red, smirking.
"No, really! I actually can go that fast."
Red paused, wide-eyed.
"Wow...," said Red, hanging his arms in humility. "I... actually didn't know that until now."
Chuck grinned smugly... then zoomed back over to Red, any animosity forgiven as quickly as it had come.
"So! What's up?" asked Chuck, looking quite ready for adventure, his tail feathers wagging and his whole attention focused solely on Red.
Red sighed deeply, partially due to Chuck - he could be a rather exhausting friend to hang out with sometimes - and partially due to what he had to say. He wasn't used to revealing big information like this, and, to some degree, it unnerved him. He wasn't sure what Chuck would have to say about this, but Red couldn't not say anything. Chuck was his best friend, after all...
"Phew. Okay, so... don't get... too excited or anything, but... I kinda... sorta... have a lead on who my parents are..."
He slowly turned away as he said all this, rubbing his arm self-consciously, his gaze at the floor becoming more and more pronounced with each passing word... as if embarrassed to admit that he had feelings beyond anger.
Chuck's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and a grin steadily grew wider and wider on his face... pushing up his cheeks as he broke into a full-out, open-mouthed, gaping smile. He actually started vibrating a little, doing his utmost to hold it all in...
"Don't get too excited!" warned Red, holding his hands out in front of him as if to say "stop".
"Eeeeeeeeeeee...! Really..?!" Chuck exclaimed, loudly popping Red's personal bubble as he thrust his face up into Red's.
"Uhhhh... Yeah... Really...," Red replied, beyond uncomfortable.
"AHHHHHHHH! THIS IS SO EXCITING!" screamed Chuck, bouncing and zooming around the room for a full three seconds before colliding into Red again, his hands gripping Red's arm in an act of pure ecstasy and delight. "WHEN ARE WE GONNA MEET THEM?!"
Red actually chuckled as he gently tried to push Chuck off him.
"Aha-ha. Chuck, I only just got a lead. It's... probably not even anything at all...," he said offhandedly, shrugging it off in a rather defeated fashion...
"Red, don't say that. It could be the answer to where your parents went! Oh, tell me more. Tell me! Tell me!" Chuck nipped back, jumping up and down rapidly.
"Okay, man!" chuckled Red, significantly calmer than he was before, although his feathers were still a little ruffled. "Come on. I'll explain on the way..."
As they descended the precarious stairs to Chuck's home, Red making sure to watch his step lest he slip on a particularly smooth one and fall, Red made sure to explain every detail to his curious friend. Over-excited though he still was over his findings, albeit to a lesser degree, for once he was quite enjoying talking for an extended period of time. It felt relieving to get these findings and feelings off of his chest... and to know that whom he was telling them to was someone who actually cared...
Chuck hung onto every word, nodding in agreement or shaking his head thoughtfully or concernedly when appropriate. He didn't miss a beat, that bird, and upon the detailed conclusion he was decidedly puzzled, yet genuinely excited for his friend, for it was most certainly an interesting morning for Red, and one that bears repeating...
Red had awoken early that morning, and had taken great care not to make coffee. He knew Chuck could smell it from a mile away and didn't want another... incident. One wasted scoop of grounds was enough. However, he did take care to search his house thoroughly for any clues whatsoever as to his parentage before setting off for the nursery. Not that it had made much of a difference. He knew even before he searched that the most he'd find in the way of personal memorabilia would be a small collection of Mighty Eagle comics, sculpting tools (including an actual mini model of his house), a Mighty Eagle poster, his record player (and a few records to go with it), a crudely-drawn colored sketch of himself that a little kid had once given him as a present during one of his past jobs, and a box of crackers. There were no family photos. No hand-written letters sent from distant relatives. No embarrassing presents from a great aunt. No money collected from a dead uncle's will. No nothing. It was sad that the most regular inhabitant of Red's drawers was dust, but Red just took it for granted. Living alone sometimes rewarded oneself with collectibles, but not him. It came with the package...
His search did reveal one thing he hadn't expected, however. A backpack. He'd found it cowering underneath his bed, of all places. It was very old, very battered, and very loved. Shaking crimson wings cradled the beat up little thing... and held it close to a chest puffing in and out with each trembling breath. Red closed his eyes tight in remembrance as he tightly hugged such a personal relic. His backpack. How had he forgotten it...? Why did it end up underneath the bed? Holding it out in front of him, Red caressed the pack... and smiled. Though he couldn't for the life of him remember exactly when he had obtained it, he clearly remember where he had gotten it: in a stick-built wastepaper bin in the schoolyard. He had been just a young hatchling then, and he recalled one of his classmates, Billy, throwing out the little backpack in disgust.
"I can't believe my mom got me such a boring backpack!" he had complained to one of his friends. "I wanted the cool red one! I told her so!"
Young Red had seen the whole, sad ordeal from behind a tree and made to rescue the discarded treasure soon after Billy and his friend had disappeared. As he brushed trash and sand from the backpack, he held it safely in his wings, as a mother might hold a very small child, before slinging it onto his back. He glared at Billy's back in disgust and stuck his tongue out at him. He didn't think it was a bad little backpack at all. He would have been grateful to have a mother who loved him enough to get him a backpack, or any mother at all...
The gift had been his gift ever since, and finding it again sparked distant memories, some of which he fondly recalled, others of which he would have preferred to stay hidden in the deep recesses of his brain. That grin stayed plastered to his face as he slung his battered friend onto his back... until he heard the rattle. He paused, frowned, took off the backpack, unhinged the straps, and opened it up. Inside was...
"Oh my gosh..."
A feather. A single, crimson feather. He remembered...
He remembered being in the nursery. He remembered... finding a red feather lying in a box underneath the lost and found nest in the orphanage. He remembered always carrying it around as a youngster. He remembered... pretending that it had belonged to his mother or his father... He remembered, as a youngster, putting it in his backpack... He remembered... growing too old for his backpack and thrusting it underneath his bed years and years and years ago...
He stared at the feather for a long time, then shook his head... This could have belonged to any bird. He was sure he wasn't the only egg to have been put in the lost and found nest all those years ago. But then... there was the timing of when he found the feather to consider. He couldn't have been more than a few years old. A good few years of his life had been spent in that orphanage. What if that feather he found... had, indeed, belonged to a relative...?
Red ran. Red ran as fast as his stamina would allow. Even Chuck would have been probably impressed. He ran all the way from the beach... into the village... and right to the doorstep of Mrs. Finch's Orphanage.
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.
Red was still panting hard when the door finally opened a minute later. Red straightened himself up to his full height as Mrs. Finch delivered herself open the doorstep. She was the only bird in the entire village that he had the utmost respect for, as she was the only individual he ever knew as a youngster who had actually cared about him... and the closest thing to a mother he'd ever had. But Red had been a troubled bird, and had gone through more than anyone ever ought to have gone through, and despite all of her care and love and affection... she could only shield him from so much in the world. Still, even though he rarely visited her these days, he held great appreciation for her.
Mrs. Finch was quite old by this time and needed a cane or two to get around, but that didn't stop her from launching herself forward and embracing Red like a prodigal son at the sight of him on the doorstep.
"Red!" she exclaimed in a croaky voice, hugging him lovingly - a bit too lovingly.
"M-Ms. Finch! Y-You're choking me!" squeezed out Red, coughing and panting as she released him.
"Oh! Sorry, Red. You'll have to forgive an old bird. Don't know my own strength," Mrs. Finch chuckled, stepping back to give him some air.
Slightly out of breath though he was, Red couldn't help but smile.
"It's good to see you again," panted Red.
"Well, same to you too, honey. It's only been about three months since you last came to see me! Keepin' an old lady hangin' like that. Where you been?" asked the old bird in a reprimanding tone.
"Oh... you know... Out. Saving the world. Destroying pig castles. Getting into trouble. All that good stuff," said Red.
"Hm. So I've heard. You've been making rather a spectacle of yourself out there. Would've kicked some piggy butt with y'all myself, but I just don't have the strength for that kind of thing anymore," Mrs. Finch replied, to which Red blushed a little. He always had been one to draw attention to himself, albeit unintentionally.
"You sure have the strength to still choke me half to death," nipped Red playfully. Mrs. Finch simply smirked at him.
"Come on inside. I wanna talk with you..." she said, gesturing him inside.
"Uh, actually, I'm... kind of in a hurry... I-I just have a quick question to ask. It's... s-sort of important..," Red replied hurriedly, but he stepped over the threshold despite himself and followed Mrs. Finch into a side parlor.
It looked exactly as he remembered it, right down to the last feather cushion and flower-painted tea cup. Same table and chairs. Same bookcases. Same carpeting. Nothing had changed, but Red rather appreciated the quaintness of it all. Frankly, though, even as a child Red had never understood why Mrs. Finch had such breakable antiques as fine china displayed in an orphanage, of all places. But, he supposed, an old bird needed her pleasures in life.
Despite himself, Red couldn't help but peruse the room, taking in the nostalgia of the moment - the geriatric sights and familiar smells of the place. Peppermint. He remembered that scent well, all right. Coconut oil and oranges, too. And old books. Red never was much of a book-lover, but he always did like the smell of them.
Mrs. Finch had, by this time, taken a seat in a corner chair that was completely made out of feathers.
Red sighed deeply to himself, smiling. Uh-oh. She had sat down. If he was going to say anything he had better do it and do it now, otherwise there was no hope of escape for a good two hours at least.
"Ma'am, I know it's been a long time since we last talked, but... I-I can't stay," Red sighed. "I just... wanted to ask you kind of an... important question...," he said, stepping up to where she sat and respectfully kneeling down to her eye level.
"Well... if you're in a hurry then you'd better do what you gotta do," Mrs. Finch sighed in reply, doing her best not to look too disappointed. "But you owe me one, little crab. You owe me two hours worth of conversation," she replied, a smirk playing on her face and a finger pointing threateningly at him in mock reprimand.
Red couldn't help but feel a smile creep up his face as he chuckled and gave a sharp nod in reply.
"You got it," he said.
"Well, what is it that you have to say?" Mrs. Finch asked, sinking even deeper into her chair.
"I was wondering if you could tell me anything... about this...," said Red, pulling out the red feather he'd found earlier and holding it up for her to take.
"A feather...?" Mrs. Finch asked, puzzled, as she took the feather, holding it in a pinch between her fingers. She rotated it a couple of times, the better to look it over. Then she shrugged. "It's just as red as any other."
"Just as red as me, you mean," Red offered.
"I suppose. What? You don't like it? I always thought red suited you. You wouldn't look half as strapping in blue," chuckled Mrs. Finch, her tone kind and playful. Red, however, didn't acknowledge her joke, but plunged on.
"No, I mean... I don't know any other bird on the island with feathers... quite as red as mine. But... I found this one years ago when I was a hatchling here... in the orphanage..."
"Here? In the orphanage..?" questioned Mrs. Finch, staring at the feather with one eyebrow raised.
"Yes. Specifically in the nursery. I found it in the box underneath the lost and found nest and I... sorta hung onto it. And I thought that... maybe...," he sighed, bracing himself at the thought of sounding completely ridiculous. "I-I thought that... maybe... it had once belonged to my... parents...," Red spieled out, almost in a whisper.
"Oh, honey...," Mrs. Finch replied, rather sad and sorrowfully, comprehension dawning on her. "Red, this feather... was the only other thing sitting on the front porch when... you were dropped off here... as an egg. I never knew who left it... I tried to find 'em. Asked around. Put up posters. Hm. Even went searching around the island myself a bit. Never could find out anythin'. I was gonna tell you about the feather when you were old enough, but I couldn't find the thing by that time. I didn't know it was you that had taken it..."
Red sighed, his gaze fixated on the floor at this point.
"Red, honey... look at me. Come on now. Look at me," Mrs. Finch encouraged him... and he did look up. She reached out and gently scooped his wing in hers. "Sweet heart, sometimes... people just disappear... without rhyme or reason. That doesn't mean they never loved us."
"Right...," mumbled Red.
He looked so downcast and upset that she couldn't help but titter in reply.
"Hm. You always were a firecracker. A nippy little crab lost in the sand. But your temper ain't done got to me yet. You always were my favorite of the bunch, but don't you tell nobody," she said, her kind smile turning serious.
Despite it all, Red looked up at her and smiled.
He left the orphanage not too long after, thoroughly downtrodden. Mrs. Finch hadn't given him much of a clue except that whomever had abandoned him and orphaned this feather also. He had hoped that she, of all birds, would have had some explanation as to his parents' where-a-bouts from this crucial bit of evidence. But no. There was nothing. At least he knew that the feather did belong to a possible relative, but where would they even be at this point...? He felt like he was grasping at dust floating in the breeze. It was like searching for a lost grain of sand out of many; like reaching into deep pockets and finding only lint...
As he trudged down the road, lost in thought and growing more depressed with each passing second, something blue actually catapulted past him.
"What the...?!" he exclaimed, stopping in his tracks completely.
It wasn't too long after that he heard giggling, followed by light cheering and the abrupt appearance of two blue fluffballs as they darted past him.
"That was great, Jake! Can you go farther next time?!" one of them shouted, waddling excitedly towards his brother... who had landed in a bucket of worms outside of a shop nearby.
"Hee hee. Yeah. That was cool...," the little blue hatchling named Jake said, slightly dizzy from the impact. He got over his dizziness surprisingly quickly, however. Something about the sight of Red seemed to alert him to his senses. "Uncle Red!" he screamed, positively flying out of the bucket and sprinting... fast... over to Red, his fluffy brothers following.
"Woah! Hey!" Red whipped out as he found himself getting bowled over onto his back by the three brothers.
"Uncle Red! Where've you been?!"
"We've been looking for you!"
"Come play with us!"
"Yeah, come play with us!"
"What do you have on your back...?"
"What have you been doing?
"I need to go to the bathroom..."
"All right. All right. Come on up...," Red sighed, finally able to get a word in as he struggled to sit up. He shook his head, but smiled a little in spite of it all and ruffled one of the little hatchlings' head feathers fondly... earning a happy giggle in reply. Ever since the rescue, The Blues, three young brothers whom Red had saved from being literally roasted alive and eaten by the pigs, had taken to calling him "Uncle", and even though he pretended to be indifferent to this new moniker, secretly... he was really quite flattered by it.
"Uncle Red, are you going to the international abilities movie today?" one of the brothers asked, both knees and wings plopped firmly on Red's stomach, two wide, green eyes staring him in the face.
"Ugh. Internal acceptance movement," Red groaned, doing his best to push himself further up into a more comfortable sitting position, a rather difficult feat considering all three Blues were sitting on him.
"Hee hee! You're funny, Uncle Red," said another brother.
"When are you gonna come play with us?" asked another, sliding off Red's tummy and landing with a soft plop on the sandy ground below.
"Erhm... Maybe tomorrow...," grunted Red, really not in the mood for this. But the Blues took no notice of his tone.
"What's that?" inquired the little brother who had slid off of Red, staring at the feather that Red still had clasped in his hand.
"Wha-... Oh. That..? Th-That's nothing...," Red stuttered, brushing the Blues off him as he suddenly sprang to life and stood up, making to quickly conceal the red treasure in his backpack.
"It's pretty!" said the brother named Jake, delighted.
"Where did you get that?" asked another, gaping at the feather.
"Um... Nowhere...," mumbled a defeated Red, resolving to hide it behind his back now, which didn't at all stop the Blues from running around behind him to get a better look at it. One of them actually grabbed it. "Hey!"
"Sooooo pretty...!" crooned a brother, rubbing the feather up against his cheek and closing his eyes contentedly.
"Hey! That's mine!" Red barked.
"I wanna see it!" said another brother.
"No, wait! It's my turn!" retorted the other brother.
"I had it first!"
"Lemme see it!"
But Red was too fast for them. He whipped it out of the hatchling's wings and stuffed it, rather harshly, back into his backpack, a nasty scowl mashing his face.
"Mine," he said, sticking his tongue out at them playfully.
"Aww, Uncle Red... You're no fun...," mumbled the hatchling whom Red had snatched the feather from, kicking at the ground.
"Our momma has feathers for us like that," said Jake, absentmindedly, plopping down in the dirt and picking at his talons.
"Really?" asked Red sarcastically, hitching up his backpack as he made to move on.
"Yeah, she has one for each of us!"
"Wait... Really...?" said Red, actually pausing to pay attention this time.
"Of course. All the mommas do it."
"Mine is blue!" squeaked one of the brothers.
"Jimmy, all of our feathers are blue...," Jake replied, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
"Oh, yeah...," said Jimmy.
"Do you...," Red cleared his throat, "Do you guys know why they give you the feathers...?"
"For protection. Duh! Didn't your momma give you one?" Jake nipped, not realizing how much his reply might sting.
"Protection...?" asked Red, ignoring the sting.
Jake sighed, as if having to explain something so simple to a much older bird took a lot of effort, and plunged into a full-on, pleasantly thorough, explanation.
"Every momma gives their baby one of their feathers when they're born. That way, we have something to remember them and to protect us if we ever get lost or if they ever go missing."
"Missing...?" Red asked, at full attention now.
"Yeah. Our momma says that if we ever can't find her it's because she'll have gone missing," said Jake, still picking at his talons habitually.
"But momma says that'll never happen 'cause she loves us and would never leave the island!" little Jimmy peeped out.
"Red?" asked the second brother, looking at Red's backpack in which he'd placed the feater. "Where's your momma?"
By this time, Red was breathing rather hard, his eyes wide in realization...
"Thanks, kids!" he yelled as he sprinted off in the direction of Chuck's house.
"Hey! Where's he going?!" one of the brothers asked.
"I dunno," shrugged Jake. "Hey. Let's go play sharks!"
"Yeah!" shouted Jimmy, promptly forgetting whatever they had been doing before and racing off to join his brothers.
"Soooo... your parents got lost?" Chuck asked, Red having finished his story.
Red shrugged.
"I dunno, but... I highly doubt that they're on the island."
"Oh, I would've known if they were on the island," said Chuck, smirking. "I've run all over it, remember?"
"Right. But you haven't been anywhere outside of the island... besides Piggy Island...," mused Red.
Chuck gasped.
"Maybe they're there?!"
Red thought about this for a moment, but shook his head.
"Nah. They wouldn't be..."
"Why not?!" offered Chuck, clearly excited about this theory. "What if they got captured?" He gasped. "What if they're STILL THERE?!"
"Chuck. Come on, man. There's no way they'd be there. Why would they get captured and no other birds?"
"I dunno...," mumbled Chuck, peering behind him at a tail feather that was bothering him and smoothing it out. He smiled in satisfaction.
They'd stopped at the beach. Red stared out at the ocean. Everything seemed so... ominous out there, for once. He blinked, sighed, and sat down on a broken log near them... where he rested his hanging head in his wing and stared at the sand. Chuck followed suit, resting his wings on his legs which he stuck out in front of him.
They just sat there, staring out at the ocean, Chuck occasionally shooting Red furtive glances... which Red could full on "feel" even though he wasn't looking at him. Red was quiet for so long that Chuck actually leaned out in front of Red and stared at him concernedly.
"Red...? Are you... okay?" he asked, a frown etched on his face.
Red sighed.
"I dunno, man...," he replied. "I just... want to know..."
"Can you shooooow me..." Chuck sang quietly.
Red turned to stare at him.
"Eheh. Sorry..," Chuck blushed, smiling.
"I dunno. Maybe I'm just overthinking things," Red shrugged, turning back to gaze out at the ocean again.
"Or maybeeeeeeee... we should go out there...," nudged Chuck, grasping Red's shoulder and gesturing with a wing towards the blue beyond. Red just stared at him, flabbergasted, as Chuck smiled his toothy smile. "We still have the boat, ya' know."
"Ahhhh... I dunno...," Red said, flopping his cheek back onto his wing. "We just got home a month ago. I don't wanna go back out there again..."
"Not even for your parents?" pushed Chuck, putting on a somewhat mocking pout.
Red raised an eyebrow at him, expression quite determinedly indifferent.
"Hmmmmmm?" Chuck pushed further, smirking right up in Red's face.
Red glared back.
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm?"
Red sighed deeply.
"Go get Bomb," he groaned.
"AHHHHH-HA-HA! YES!" Chuck practically screamed, and he zoomed off before Red even had a chance to blink.
Red turned around, staring off at where Chuck had disappeared to, and shook his head before turning back to stare at the sea.
"Crazy bird," Red muttered to himself, smiling.
