Creative Writing: Let The Feathers Fall

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Let the Feathers Fall

Sorry guys you’re stuck in the goblins grisly nightmare,” said a voice from the mouth of the cave. A penguin was perched on a rock. There was a hint of daring in its glowing purple gaze. It looked daunting, almost dangerous and I recognized that tone, which was more ladylike than you’d expect from an aquatic, flightless bird. “Sage?” I sighed. “What a relief.” The penguin nodded its head. “Can I come in?” “Yeah,” Mason said. “Of course.” “Thanks.” Sage hopped off the rock and waddled over. “Like the duds?” “Sure,” I asked. “But why a penguin?” “Well,” Sage ruffled her plumage, “I saw one of these creatures at the zoo and thought the tuxedo-like suit was kind cool in a black and white sort of way so I tried the body for size and it just felt right. Besides, I wanted something with flippers, so a penguin seemed the logical choice. I decided on the macaroni penguin because I thought the yellow crest complement my eyes.”

“I’m looking rather majestic, don’t you think?” “Ah yeah sure,” Mason agreed. “Majestic’s the first word that pops into my mind when I think of macaroni penguins.” Sage smiled peering down at our empty hands. “A little birdie told me you were searching for the staff?” I began to explain about the wolf and the castle but was interrupted by voices from outside the cave. Sage rustled her feathers. A tuft of fire curled from her long red beak. “Oh, no . . . My body is dissolving. I can’t hold onto this stiff for very much longer. Gotta go—” The penguin hiccupped a wisp of smoke. “Good luck.” She flew between some swaying candelabras and zoomed past Cotton on her way out of the cave. Leaving Mason and me to clean up a pile of white and black feathers. “Where’s Zander and the wolf?” Mason asked. “Did you find the staff? Was the goblin around? And about the castle was it booby-trapped?” “So many questions,” Cotton smiled. “Come on, you’ll