Chapter Three-The Plot Thickens Without Mr. Beaver Realizing It
Mr. Beaver was not the type of beaver to run away from danger. This wasn't danger, though. It was utter surprise and shock.
"AAAHHH!"
He ran, screaming through the small house, burrowing himself under his feather pillow Lucy had provided him with not a month ago.
"AAAHHH! What is going ON here?!" he shrieked. A small blackbird paused for a moment before startling and flying off.
He sat up and tried his best to understand the situation. His wife had been trying to find a job recently, and when she had suggested a job in security, he had answered her with a firm 'nonononononono'.
A loud thumping entered his thoughts, quite rudely, he thought to himself.
"I'm coming, I tell you," he shouted, rubbing his temples. He slowly trudged up to the door, but before he could duck under the doorway, multiple hands seized him, tugging him out of his house.
"What? What's going on?" he demanded.
A snarl close to his ear responded in a sort of accent that would be hard to catch if it wasn't so close. He struggled to place the accent, for he had heard it before, but to no avail.
"You, little dude, and yer little dudette, are gonna pay, ya know?" it said, with a snicker. "If yer mate athinks she's gonna go without a fight, she's got another thing coming to her, ain't she?"
A chorus of laughs resounded in Mr. Beaver head as he placed the dreadful grammarless voice.
It was those dag-blasted Hippsta Faeries.
