Author's Note: The wonderful Schnickledooger was inspired to continue day seven's "Confusion" over on AO3 to fill in some of the gaps about what happened before and after the cave-in, so go check it out over on Archive of Our Own! achiveofourown works / 12461136
Ok. All right. It was fine. Everything was ok. Definitely ok. Perfectly fine. It would all work out ok, and tonight he'd be in his bed, safe and sound, laughing at himself over how worried he'd been over nothing.
Right?
Dewey hadn't seen any sign of his uncles or brothers or Webby in forty-five minutes, according to his phone. That was definitely a problem, considering they were in a dense forest that had been known to swallow up explorers on their way to finding lost civilizations and undiscovered species of animals and insects (according to Huey, at least). They'd been trying to find the Lost Crown of Genghis Khan. Why they were looking in South America, Dewey had no idea. He was pretty sure Scrooge had explained it, but once it started to feel like history class, Dewey had zoned out. Force of habit.
Ok, that tree definitely looked familiar. So that meant Dewey was probably going around in circles, which was probably bad...then again, Uncle Donald always said to stay put if he ever got lost, so maybe it was good? Dewey wasn't sure. Of course, Dewey wasn't sure if he was still in the same place he'd gotten lost, so that piece of advice may or maybe not be worth anything right now. Either way, Dewey felt like he had to keep moving. Standing around in the jungle by himself seemed dangerous, somehow.
Dewey slapped away a mosquito. There were few things he disliked about adventuring, but mosquitos were one of them. They were all taking malaria pills, so they weren't in danger of getting sick, but those bites itched like crazy. Dewey had trouble focusing in the best of times, but when his body was covered in mosquito bites, all bets were off. The only moments of relief he found were those he was able to find pictures in the bites dotting his skin, almost like constellations, even though, no matter how many times Huey tried to teach him about them, Dewey could not see a single picture in those dots of light. How the heck was a lopsided trapezoid with a line coming off of it supposed to be a bear?
Speaking of constellations, Dewey was pretty sure it was a little bit darker out than it had been a few minutes ago. Not dark, per se, but almost like a very light shadow was blanketing the forest. Shoot. This was bad. This was really bad. Being lost in an explorer-eating-jungle was bad enough in the daylight, but at night? He was doomed.
Ok. Focus. Dewey was a Junior Woodchuck, even though he missed half the meetings and only had half a dozen merit badges. He had to have learned something about what to do when lost in the woods.
Dewey stopped walking to think. A signal! He had to send some sort of a signal so Uncle Donald and the others could find him! Now, how could he make a signal…
Fire was an option. Depending on how the fire burned, either the fire itself of the smoke it created would work as a signal. But then again, starting a fire could burn the whole jungle down, and, knowing Dewey, chances were greater than not that it would. Besides, Uncle Donald didn't like them playing with fire, and since Dewey had once had a very memorable experience with a candle and a match that reinforced that rule, he decided to put "signal fire" at the very end of the list.
Sound could also work as a signal. If Dewey could yell loud enough, someone might hear him and come to get him. But what should he yell? "Help?" "Hi, it's Dewey, I'm lost, so please come find me?" "Where are you guys?" "S.O.S.?"
Speaking of S.O.S., Dewey could use the flashlight in his pocket to make a signal. All three triplets know the morse code to spell out "S.O.S." (you didn't get away with living with a sailor for ten years without learning it), so that would work perfectly...except for the fact that it was too bright out for light from the flashlight to actually be seen. Dewey moved this to plan "if-it-gets-dark-out-before-I'm-found."
That left sound, aka yelling at the top of his lungs. Here goes.
"HEEEEELLLLLLLP!"
The volume of his sudden outburst cause a flock of startled birds to fly away, but he didn't hear anyone answer back.
"HEY! SOMEONE HELP! I'M LOST!"
Still nothing.
"HUEY! LOUIE! UNCLE DONALD! WEBBY! ANYBODY?"
Nope.
"HEEEELLLLP!"
Nada.
"'S.O.S.!"
Dewey heard a rustling in the bushes. Relief tentatively began leaking into his chest, only to be crushed when a small jungle creature emerged from the foliage to waddle across the path in front of him.
"Arrrrrrargh!" Dewey growled in frustration, pounding his fists on the nearest tree. It wouldn't help him find his family any quicker, but it did make him feel a tiny bit better.
"Every time we go on one of your crazy adventures, something happens to one of the kids!"
Dewey stopped and listened hard to the faint but familiar voice.
"This time you were right here. You've got more of a responsibility to watch over them, being their guardian."
"You're the one who thinks it's ok to take four ten-year-olds on crazy adventures in all corners of the world!"
Dewey really hoped he wasn't imagining this.
"I didn't see you complaining when you were their age!"
Wait, what?
"I was ten! I didn't know any better to complain!"
Hold on a second, Uncle Donald's voice was definitely getting quieter no no no they were going the wrong way-
"Hey! Over here!" Dewey yelled. "Uncle Donald! Scrooge!"
"Hold on, I think I hear something."
"Yes! You do! This way! Over here! Follow the sound of my voice! I want to get out of here!"
"Dewey?"
Relief flooded through the duckling's chest. "Uncle Donald! Where are you?"
"Stay put, lad! We'll come and find you!"
"Ok!" he said. "Uh, I'm this way! Follow my voice, I guess! Helloooo! Over here!" Dewey paused, thinking up something else to say. "Is this the real life...is this just fantasy...caught in a landslide...no escape from reality…"
"Oh, not that again," he heard his Uncle Donald mutter, and he couldn't help but let out a giggle. Dewey had spent just about all of the third grade singing that song around the houseboat. It was now effectively banned from the Duck family.
"Open your eyes...look up to the skies and seeeeeeeeeee! I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low, any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me…!"
"Dewey!" Uncle Donald said, popping out of the foliage with Scrooge in tow. "You can stop singing now."
"Awww…"
"Are you ok?" Uncle Donald kneeled in front of Dewey, soft feathered hands and anxious eyes searching his nephew for any sign of injury.
"I'm fine," Dewey said. "Where are Huey, Louie, and Webby?"
"Back at the plane," Scrooge said. "I took them back as soon as we discovered you were gone. Didnae want any of them wandering off, too."
Dewey hung his head. "Sorry," he said.
"Well, it doesn't matter now," Scrooge said. "Looks like it's back to the plane."
"Doesn't matter?" Uncle Donald said. "Of course it matters! You heard Huey's list of explorers who came into this jungle and never came out! Dewey could have gotten hurt or worse!" His eyes narrowed. "Don't think this is the end of it."
Scrooge gave an irritated sigh. "Fine. We can discuss this, after we get back on the plane."
Donald gave an approving nod and then turned to Dewey. "Don't think you're off the hook, either."
"Yes, Uncle Donald," Dewey said, looking at the ground.
"Which way to the plane?" Uncle Donald asked. Scrooge nodded in the direction began to walk. Uncle Donald took Dewey by the hand and followed. Maybe Dewey would get to go to sleep in his bed tonight, safe and sound, laughing at himself over how worried he'd been over nothing. After all, as long as he had two uncles to look after him, he'd never be lost for long.