Chapter 7: Who can you trust?

When Duke awoke the next morning, he instinctually attempted to open both of his eyes. However, he yelped in agony when he felt the burning and tugging stiches holding his right eye shut. He stroked his eye longingly; remembering with dread what had occurred the night before. But instead of feeling his eye, he grazed over a cloth eye-patch held to his face by a string tied round his forehead.

Looking around the room, he realized he was on his cot and that all the young ducks around him were sound asleep—no doubt exhausted from a night's worth of thievery. He quietly began to sob as he settled back down in his cot and turned on his left side so tears wouldn't fall into his fresh stitches. As he lay down, with his one good eye, he noticed the young eyass wide awake in the cot next to him, starring up at him with wide and horrified eyes.

"What? What are you lookin' at, kid?" Duke whispered disgustedly. The falcon, as per usual, said nothing.

"You could at least say thank you. Apologize. Something! It's only good manners! They don't have manners where you come from?"

Still, it said nothing.

"Ah, the hell with you," Duke sighed. He gruffly turned on his back to stare at the ceiling in disgust.

"Perry," said the eyass.

"What?" Duke said, sitting up and turning sharply to look at the hatchling.

"My name is Perry," it said again.

"Oh! So you can speak! It's a miracle!" Duke mumbled sarcastically and pulled his cover over his head.

"I was scared," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, I guess Henna saw something in you and now you are one of us. You never know what she is going to do. I just don't know who to trust anymore," the disgruntled mallard replied, his voice muffled from the bed sheets.

"I'm sorry about your eye. Truly, I am. You can certainly trust me, old boy!" exclaimed Perry enthusiastically.

"Thanks, little guy. Honestly, I should have known better than to bring you here. I thought she would be happy I brought a new recruit. When my father was leader, he…well, he taught us that all were welcome in the Brotherhood." Duke peaked out from under his covers and looked at Perry.

"You found me when I was lost. That says a lot about you, old thing. Just think, one minute I was running from the Peregrine police for stealing a mouse at the market, and the next, I found my way here, to Puckworld and to you!"

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't stick with me. You're liable to get yourself killed," Duke said.

"Where is your papa?" the little falcon blurted.

"Oh, well, that's a pretty long story. As far as I know, he's hiding. He tripped up an alarm and almost led the Puckpolice back to our hideout, but instead, he led them away on a wild goose chase! We never found out if he was caught or in hiding. He just disappeared. Never said goodbye, nothing," Duke sighed into the early morning light.

"And Henna, she is the leader now?"

"You got it, baby. Mean as a mother hen," Duke smirked.

Both young fledglings laughed as silently as they could. Even Duke forgot his pain for a moment. He smiled and closed his eyes before they were scolded for talking during quiet hours.

In the years to come, Perry and Duke became fast friends—both ravens of the night, or, that's what they began to call themselves. Other ducks in the Brotherhood would walk the streets by day and report back to the duo the location of the best jewels and electronics. Perry, still only allowed to go out at night for fear that his peregrine features would give the Brotherhood away, stayed close to Duke and observed intently as the maturing mallard picked locks, scaled buildings, and learned to acrobatically weave his way through motion detecting lasers. In exchange for thieving lessons, Perry taught Duke how to use his other senses to make up for his lost sight. He showed him how to sniff the air and the wind to track individual ducks and how to tilt his head from side to side to listen for the most minuet movements. Yes, the Night Ravens were certainly the best burglars in the Brotherhood and pleased Henna very much.

As Duke and Perry began to take more and more of their share of the thieving, they bought themselves new gadgets—grappling hooks, blades, lock picks. Their skills intensified as their feathers molted into their adult pristine. Duke's soft grey down had shed into fully fledged, ashen-colored feathers, with the exception of a light band of silver that streaked through his hair. At first, Duke despised the unusual strip of hair that couldn't be dyed no matter how many times the vain duck tried. One day, however, Henna happened to peak in on Duke making up his hair in one of his outlandish dues.

"My my, Duke. You certainly look distinguished," she said in an oddly provocative tone. Duke chuckled and didn't pay her much mind.

"Yeah, well, I do what I can," he replied. As he stared at himself in the communal mirror hung in the young mallards' dormitory, he became more agitated. He picked up a comb and frantically preened his hair feathers. "I hate this hair!" he said more to himself than to the watchful Henna behind him.

"I like it. The grey makes you look distinguished—rather dashing. It's very unique," Henna said as she walked up to Duke and stood behind him. He looked up at her and saw her reflection in the mirror—her large, seemingly painted black eyes meeting with his good eye. Suddenly, he began to feel a bit uneasy.

"If you like it, Miss Henna, then it shall stay," he said, turning to face her and bowing theatrically before walking out of the room. He could feel Henna's sharp, gaze piercing into the back of his head as he walked away.

That was…odd, thought Duke. But he gave the awkward encounter no more thought as he prepared himself for a heist.

…..

Duke knew what he had to do in order to get to Falcone. He had to return to his roots—he had to be a thief, at least, on the outside. It was the only way to regain Falcone's trust and find out how and why he was stealing jewels on earth.

After a moment of rummaging through the back of his closet, he found his old marron and black camouflage suit. He slipped out of his Mighty Duck uniform slowly dawned his richly tailored outfit. He remembered how tightly it hugged his flesh, seeming to swaddle him and yet, it was fluid enough to allow for his most calculated acrobatic feats. Indeed, this outfit—this life—was meant for him. He could feel it's allure creeping back into is gizzard.

Stay calm, Duke. Don't get too carried away. This time, you are going to catch a thief. This time, you are on the other side of the law. This time, you won't let Falcone get the best of you. Now, let's go see what the other ducks think.