"I guess not," said the bear, shuffling along beside him. Lake Wanaloupe wasn't much further down the path. Not wanting to leave his friend in dour spirits, the bear spoke up again. "Maybe they don't understand why it is we're upset," he offered, hoping to salve the wound his friend was still nursing. The duck had always been a particularly sensitive sort. It didn't take much to ruffle his feathers.
"Then they're not paying attention," the duck muttered, pulling one wing forward and preening his underfeathers without breaking stride. "We've done all we can to show them, and has it stopped them? Not in the slightest!" Both wings went up to emphasize his objection. "I just don't get it, friend. How could anybody be so stupid?"
"It's not so bad..." the bear mused, trumping along at as slow a pace as he could manage and still be moving forward. "It's probably all just a big misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?!" The duck stopped cold, both feet planted firmly on the spot. The bear took another half-step, pausing with one paw still raised and sighing to himself. "Misunderstanding?" the duck repeated with special emphasis. "There's no misunderstanding! They act like we don't matter, like what we say isn't real! What's to understand?"
"I think," said the bear, bringing his head around slow to peer at the fuming waterfoul, "that they don't understand what we're trying to say."
The ducks wings went skyward again. "Of course they don't!" he shouted, ignoring the pained look on his friend's face. "They don't listen to us!" The wings swung round to point up the path behind them. "You saw how they looked at me! Like I was nuts or something. And they barely even looked at you at all!"
The bear returned his eyes to the path, starting to shuffle onward again. The duck fell silent, still standing in the path with his wings outstretched. Letting his plumage settle, he hurried to waddle up alongside the bear once more. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone at once calmer than it had been. He placed one wing on his friend's flank. "I didn't mean--"
"I know, friend," said the bear, not bothering to turn his head.
The duck muttered under his breath, tossing a glance back along the path the way they'd come. The faintest sound of the revelers could still be heard from deep within the thicket far behind them. The sound of it started to stoke the mallard's distaste, but the sensation swiftly settled on sadness instead. Hanging his head, he consented to trudge in silence beside the bear as they rounded the last bend and the lake came into view.
The bear stopped, rolling onto his haunches and sitting with a 'thump' as he gazed out across the water. The duck patted him gently at the shoulder, walking forward to the edge of the lake. The light ripple of the water splashed quietly against the lip of the shore under his feet. The dark, murky water was a welcome relief from what it reflected: the sky still burned, smoldering with orange fire like some great writhing snake high above them.
The duck sighed, slipping from the shore and coasting out onto the surface of the water, kicking once to turn himself about. Back on the path, the bear sat staring at the sky. His large shoulders drooped, and the duck could see the last grains of hope leaving his friend for good. "Come on," he called, waving a wing to signal his friend, but the bear did not move. "Don't be like that," the duck chided. "It'll be fine. We'll be safer out on the water. Come on."
The bear only sat and stared. Muttering to himself, the duck paddled back to the shore and began drawing himself out of the water. Just as his first food was clawing out of the lake, the bear spoke up, his eyes still fixed on the rolling clouds of embers. "I think..." he started to say, his voice trailing off as quickly as it had emerged. The duck froze, unsure what made him pause. Something in the bear's voice was amiss. "I think," his friend began again, lowering his muzzle to see eye-to-eye with the duck, "I like it here."
The duck could only stare at his friend, whose eyes now glinted with the same rolling orange pattern as the skies above. Still stuck in the act of pulling himself free of the lake, the duck sighed and lowered himself back into the water, kicking off from the shore. He coasted in reverse, his eyes lingering on his friend sitting near the shoreline, so close to freedom.
As the first hint of a current picked up underneath him, the duck kicked once to better line himself up with the parting stream. He cast one last glance over his shoulder at the bear, gave a long, sad sigh in parting and consented to the current to carry him away from these tormented lands forever.
* * *
Author's Note: This is something I wrote ad hoc. It started nice and peaceful and then went suddenly dark. I have no idea what the burning sky is about or how it captivates the denizens of the Ember Woods, but the whole thing felt very natural as it was being written. I plan to do a few more on a similar vein (similar tone, different settings, different styles) and see if any of them take root. If any of them pique your interest, make your comments known :)
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