Five year old Webbigail Vanderquack skipped fearlessly down the moonlit hallways of McDuck Manor, swinging a plush rabbit to and fro. The girl was dressed in a pink nightgown with a matching pink bow in her hair, somehow perfectly neat and tidy despite wearing it to bed (an odd habit her Granny hoped she'd outgrow). The plush rabbit, too, was pink, but a darker shade and with a white polkadot pattern. A bundle of red yarn sprouted from the top of its head. Its name was Strawberry and, while not Webby's top favorite toy (though she cherished it all the same), had been randomly selected to accompany her on this nighttime venture.
Webby's quest? To get a drink of water. When she peered from her bedroom earlier, she was greeted by the familiar hallway illuminated by several night lights. Across from Webby's room was that of her Granny's, the door partially open as a silent signal to the child that her guardian was always available. The lighted path extended to just beyond the nearby bathroom.
The duckling could have taken the simple route to quench her thirst. However, the call to adventure stirred within her. When not being schooled or trained by her grandmother, Webby was allowed "free time". But she needed to stay within the designated areas of the mansion, which was only a small percentage of the expansive dwelling. She also needed to occupy herself quietly. Webby had tied to explore on her own before but, despite her cunning, her Granny always managed to intercept her sneaky efforts.
In the unlikely event Webby would be caught now, she'd just use the excuse that water from the kitchen sink tasted better than the bathroom's. And maybe she wanted a snack, too. She was so familiar with this wing of the mansion she could navigate it blindfolded (and had before as part of her training). Never mind that the clever girl opted to take the long way to her destination. It wasn't her fault that the many forbidden rooms on her journey were such an enticing distraction.
To little Webby's disappointment, every doorknob she attempted to turn was locked. She knew that the manor's sole butler, Mr. Duckworth, freely traversed the myriad of rooms daily, perpetually busy with some pressing task. Perhaps locking the doors every night was one of his duties.
Where had Mr. Duckworth been, anyhow?
Webby sighed in defeat. She was still thirsty. She may as well just go back to the familiar hallway, fill her cup with the adequate bathroom sink water, and head back to bed. She looked into Strawberry's black button eyes.
"What was that, Strawberry? Check one last hallway?" Webby shook her head with a smile. "You're a wildcard, Strawb, but you've got moxie!"
Webby rounded the next corner. She gasped. In the distance, a patch of golden light shone from a wide open door. Perhaps a treasure room? As much as she wanted to, she knew that she couldn't just zip to the tantalizing door without caution. Biting her lip, she tiptoed towards the butterscotch-colored light, hugging the walls as she went.
Just as she reached the doorway, Webby froze in her tracks. A low, mournful sound caught her ears. Her first thought was a ghost. While the thought of encountering an ethereal spirit excited her, Webby's feathers stood up on end. She held Strawberry close to her rapidly beating heart.
She peered inside the room. Her gaze zeroed in on a tall, maroon-colored chair, angled just enough so she could see its occupant. Scrooge McDuck. The one person Webbigail was told by her Granny to always steer clear of, lest the duckling's mere presence be a bother to the illustrious trillionaire. Being forbidden from even looking in the old duck's direction, Webby found herself feeling like she had stumbled upon a mythical being, like a unicorn or a dragon.
Yet the hand over his bill and trembling shoulders revealed something else to Webby; Scrooge McDuck was crying. Though he was alone (or so he thought), he stifled his sobs, only the occasional moan escaping him. In her short life, Webby had never seen an adult cry. Not even the time she nearly fell out of a window, narrowly being rescued just in time by her terribly frightened Granny. It was the first time that Webby had seen her stoic grandmother frantic with worry, and the first time Webby felt guilt in this way. The same guilty feeling coiled inside of her watching this weeping man. Like she was witnessing something she was clearly not supposed to see. A living legend reduced to such a vulnerable state.
Webby very nearly stepped into the room, her kind nature telling her to offer Scrooge comfort. But how would he react? Especially since he very clearly wanted nothing to do with the little girl who lived in his mansion. He'd likely become angry. She'd get in trouble by her grandmother. Webby may have an adventurous streak, but she was still a good girl who rarely needed to be punished.
Webby sat just outside the door, cast in darkness. Logic told her to just return to her room, yet the desire to help the old man burned within. Suddenly, an idea came to her. Brows furrowed in determination, Webby once again held out Strawberry to look the plush in its button eyes.
"Strawberry, you have a very important mission," she whispered to it. She lifted one of its floppy ears to give the toy a brief rundown of its most vital task.
A minute later, Webby began to stealthily sneak into Scrooge McDuck's room. His weeping continued. Webby made it to the back of his chair, lingering in place as she steeled herself for the final part of the mission. She glanced at Strawberry and gave the rabbit a resolute nod. Holding her breath, Webby stood on her tiptoes, pressed the plush into Scrooge's arm, and, without looking back, hightailed it out of the room.
Webby ran down the hallways, fueled by pure adrenaline. She rounded a corner and, in her haste, slammed right into something large and solid. She was sent sprawled to the floor, head spinning.
"Webbigail! What are you doing out here? Are you all right? " Webby found herself in the comforting presence of her grandmother.
Blinking, Webby looked around, feigning astonishment. "Whoa! How did I end up all the way out here? I must've sleep walked!"
Bentina Beakley just smiled softly at her granddaughter. She placed her hands on the duckling's shoulders, giving her a quick onceover to make sure that she wasn't hurt. Satisfied, Bentina picked Webby up and briskly headed back to their quarters. Webby was grateful to be carried, for her eyelids grew heavy, this late night adventure finally catching up to her. Along with the soothing warmth of being held, and her Granny's familiar scent of clean cotton and rosewater. Head rested on her Granny's shoulder, Webby's dwindling vision never caught any sign of Scrooge following them.
Though Webby didn't request it, Mrs. Beakley did get her a cup of water, which Webby docilely drank. She was then tucked into bed and given a kiss on the forehead. As her consciousness drifted away, Webby hoped that the mysterious Scrooge McDuck received some solace from her meager offering.
To this day, the pink plush rabbit remained a permanent fixture in this particular room of McDuck Manor.