The War in the Willows

The Top Bird

Thomas’s antennae twitched with irritation as he navigated the shelves, his feet leaving a precise, measured path on the dusty floor. Morrigan’s aberrant cataloguing system was an affront to his very nature. Colour?! Who organised books by colour?!

Thomas’s frustration mounted as he searched in vain. He adjusted his spectacles, polished his shell for the umpteenth time, and tried again—still nothing.

Finally, with great reluctance, he made his way to the librarian’s desk, his shell held high and his antennae twitching with annoyance. Morrigan looked up, a sly gleam in his eye.

“Ah, Thomas. Lost, are we?” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

Thomas’s voice was icy. “Morrigan, I require assistance. I am seeking a book on ornithology. It should be filed under ‘O’ for ornithology, not… apparently… by colour.”

Morrigan’s smile was infuriatingly smug. “Ah, Thomas. You really should try embracing the intuitive approach. It’s all about vibes.”

Thomas’s antennae quivered with indignation. “Intuitive approach?! This is a library, Morrigan, not a-“

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Thomas,” Morrigan interrupted, his feathers ruffling with amusement. “This is a sanctuary of knowledge, and I am the curator. And as such, I have deemed colour the most… efficient system.”

Thomas’s patience was wearing thin. “Efficient?! I-“

Morrigan held up a wing, silencing him. “Let me help you, Thomas. What’s the book about again?”

Thomas gritted his teeth. “Ornithology.”

Morrigan’s gaze sparkled. “Ah, yes… let me see…”

He led him to a shelf in the…  brown section. Thomas’s eyes widened as he scanned the titles. How had he missed it?

“Ah, here we are,” Morrigan said, plucking a book off the shelf. “Ornithology: A Study of Avian Behaviour.  Clearly displayed in the brown section.”

Thomas took the book, his antennae still twitching with annoyance. “Thank you, Morrigan.”

Morrigan laughed. “Anytime, Thomas. That’s why I’m the top bird.”

____________________

The sun cast long shadows across the Den’s clearing as Morrigan’s voice pierced the evening air, a loud, piercing “SQUAWK! HELP!” that sent the Misfits spilling out of the Den, their faces etched with concern.

Maverick, Neville, and Bramble converged on Morrigan, who stood by a fallen tree, his arms crossed and his expression a picture of exasperation.

“What’s wrong, Morrigan?” Maverick asked, eyes scanning the area.

Morrigan glared at them, his feathers ruffled with annoyance. “Is that the best you can do? I call for help, and you take an eternity to respond.”

The Misfits exchanged sheepish glances. Maverick rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, Morrigan. We were, uh, enjoying the sunset.”

Morrigan tutted, his eyes rolling heavenward. “Enjoying the sunset? Aren’t we lucky that I wasn’t in a life-threatening situation? You’d all be flapping about like headless chickens.”

Bramble spoke up, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. “Hey, we’re here now. What’s going on?”

Morrigan’s gaze narrowed. “I was just checking your response time.  I rescued Philippe in a flash.  I single-handedly saved him from certain doom.”

Maverick sighed, earning a dirty look from Morrigan. “Whoa, Morrigan. You’re a regular hero.”

Morrigan preened, his feathers puffing out. “Yes, well. Someone has to keep this group up to speed.”

Thomas, who was polishing his shield nearby, muttered under his breath, “Someone has to keep his ego in check…”

Morrigan’s gaze snapped to Thomas. “What was that, Thomas?”

Thomas’s antennae quivered innocently. “Nothing, Morrigan. Just saying… you’re the top bird.”

____________________

Morrigan sauntered into the Den’s kitchen, a self-satisfied smile plastered on his face. Philippe was sitting at the table, munching on a piece of toast, looking rather bemused by Morrigan’s antics.

Morrigan cleared his throat, puffing out his chest. “Ah, Philippe. I was just thinking about our little… adventure.  You know, the one where I saved you from certain doom?”

Philippe looked up, a hint of wariness in his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I remember.”

Morrigan nodded, his eyes sparkling with self-importance. “Yes, well. I just wanted to remind you that it was me who rescued you. Not Thomas. Thomas was… well, let’s just say he wasn’t exactly moving at lightning speed.”

Philippe’s expression remained neutral.

Morrigan’s smile broadened, his feathers puffing out with pride. “I moved like lightning. Like a bird of prey, swooping in to save the day.”

He stepped closer to Philippe, his eyes gleaming. “So, don’t you worry, with me around, you don’t need to be scared.”

Morrigan reached out and pinched Philippe’s cheek, a condescending smile on his face. “You remember that, okay, little guy?”

Philippe’s expression remained frozen, but his eyes rolled heavenward as Morrigan turned and strutted out of the kitchen.

The kitchen fell silent for a moment, then Philippe let out a relieved breath and muttered, “Finally, he’s gone…”

______________________________