“I think I felt something!” Seri’s excited whisper cut through my thoughts. She leaned forward, golden curls spilling over her shoulders as she peered into the water.
“Steady.” Cas sounded like he was diffusing a bomb instead of helping catch a fish that would undoubtedly be released right back into the water. “Don’t jerk the line.”
The reel spun, whirring softly as whatever was on the other end tested the tension.
“Probably another sunfish,” I muttered, but sat up to see.
The last few catches had been disappointingly small, but Seri had been delighted anyway, cooing over each tiny fish like it was a newborn baby before releasing it.
“It feels bigger,” she breathed, her cheeks pink. “Stronger at least!”
Cruor, she was beautiful when she smiled. All three of us were utterly wrecked by that smile, even Cas, who stood at her shoulder now like an anxious shadow. The protective instinct never really faded for any of us, not after finding her the way we had, battered and nearly dead on our doorstep…
Beside me, Brummy lifted his head from his paws, ears perking up, and I followed his line of sight to a group of ducks paddling toward our dock from the far side of the lake. Plump, glossy bodies bobbing on the water that now had two pairs of predators’ eyes locked upon them with laser focus.
A series of images flashed into my mind, not my own thoughts, but Brumous’. He sent me a mental picture of Seri, smiling at a lap full of feathers. She was petting chickens at her old home, before the rogues ate them.
Aha! Got it! She would love petting ducks!
I gave him a serious nod and began army-crawling to the edge of the dock where he joined me, tail wagging happily.
“Fuzz Squad, this is Alpha Fun.” My lips twitched as I drew closer to the water, raising one hand to shield my mouth like the covert-operations mastermind I was. “Do you copy?”
Brummy sent back a crystal-clear response, his blue eyes gleaming with purpose.
Duck. Seri happy. We win.
Now that he was getting proper nutrition and wasn’t being tortured by Arabesque, his communication skills had strengthened considerably. His vocabulary was still limited and he couldn’t speak aloud like other dires, but his enthusiasm more than made up for it.
“Just remember, Agent Fuzznuts, under NO circumstances alert alphas Sharp or Boom to mission objectives. They lack the vision and tactical spontaneity required for this delicate operation.”
Brummy sneezed, and I took that for agreement.
“Confirmed visual on priority target.” I lowered the imaginary comms unit. The enemy contingent floated near the reeds. Six mallards practicing formation swimming like a feathered fleet of destroyers. “Rules of Engagement: No casualties, minimal feather disruption, andfor night’s sake, don’t scare our princess!”
Brumster chuffed, tail thumping the ground in a Morse code anyone could read:Let-me-chase-let-me-chase-let-me-chase.
“Listen here, Fuzznuts. This isn’t some backwoods squirrel hunt. This is a dangerous, high-stakes mission. There will be panic. There will be quacking. And there will be glory.” My fingers automatically checked invisible gear. Phantom grenade belt, pretend night-vision goggles, the whole nine yards. “Now move out.”
MISSION LOG: APPROACH — STEALTH MODE
The reeds whispered secrets as we advanced. Brum-Brum’s belly-crawl would’ve made a Navy SEAL weep, all twitching haunches and tail flags snapping like semaphore. I counted three duck sentries rotating watch. The alpha male had that look, the icy stare of a waterfowl who’d seen some shit.
Probably migrated past Jersey once.
“Hold position. The enemy is alert, Fuzznuts,” I breathed, affecting my best hard-bitten commander voice. “We must be swift, silent, and absolutely ruthless.”
His tail swished in the water behind us, creating ripples that spread across the surface.
“Tail control, agent! Basic stealth protocol!”
He shot me a slightly offended look, but his tail stilled. Then he sent me an image of himself launching into the flock like a wolf torpedo, feathers exploding everywhere.
“No, no, we wait.” I patted his head. “And remember the mission parameters. One quick grab, and we retreat with the package, not slaughter the entire flock. ”
I wasn’tentirelysure he understood the distinction.
Brummy sent me another image, this one of him sneaking through the reeds, pouncing like a lion on the savanna, and proudly presenting a duck to Seri, who was so overcome with joy, she sprouted golden light from her head like a saint in a Renaissance painting.
