[Nanowrimo] Preview: Phail Whales – Part 2

Here’s the continuation of the preview from yesterday. The first part can be found here.

Again: don’t own Twitter or any of its trademarks, won’t be making money off the novel, and Fail Whales are adorable.

“It’s almost nightfall,” Lina explained, splashing water onto the Phail Whales. “The Twitter birds are about to come out, so the migration is gonna start.”

“Ooh,” she cooed. “Time to say goodbye?”

“Time to say goodbye,” Lina agreed.

“Aww.” Rain leaned down to hug the Phail Whale, tickling it under the chin. “I have to go.”

“Faaaaaaaaaaail,” the baby Phail Whale sang. “Faa?”

“It’s time for us to go,” she said indulgently, patting its head. “The migration is about to start. You need to go back to your mummy.”

“Illll? Aaaaaaaail,” it sang. “Ffttt. Ail. Ill.”

“He’s saying goodbye,” Lina translated.

“Llllll. Aaaaaaa. Ffffft aaaaaaaail. Failllll…”

“And he wants to play with you again,” Lina smiled.

“I wanna play with you again too,” she said, hugging it tightly around where its neck was approximately was.

It bumped its nose against her chest affectionately, and she gave it a little push towards the deeper waters. A big wave hit her, and she could see the adult Phail Whales surfacing as they approached the shore for the migration.

The baby Phail Whale swam off, followed closely by its bigger friend. It stopped halfway to its parents and turned around, singing and waving its tail at her.

Rain laughed and waved back. “He’s adorable!”

“They are,” Lina smiled, “The young ones are very friendly. They like humans.”

[...]

“Tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet tw,” the Twitter birds sang. The tone had changed, and she could hear the sounds of hundreds of birds preparing to move.

“The migration?” she whispered to Lina.

Lina smiled. “Of the Phail Whales. The Phail Whales protect the Twitter Isles from anything that might want to eat the Twitter birds – they’re big enough and scary enough that most predators think twice about coming near the Isles.”

“In exchange, the birds help the Phail Whales migrate to the warmer waters on the other side of the Isles. It’s a spectacular sight.”

The birds were singing now, and suddenly a group of about two dozen birds burst out from the forest and raced towards the water.

“There they go!” Lina said.

Rain craned her neck to watch them. They were carrying something that gleamed in their beaks. It was so thin and clear that she could barely see it, just the way the light glinted off it.

She knew what it was: the famed gossamer nets of the Twitter birds. Much like the cave swift birds of Asia, whose spit dried into a gelatinous mass that formed their nests, the Twitter birds spun nets out of their spit for the migration.

Twenty birds joined their individual strands together so that it formed a stronger net large enough for an adult Phail Whale.

There was a Phail Whale swimming apart from the pods gathered as near the shore as they could stand to be. She recognised her little Phail Whale friend hovering near a much larger, adult Phail Whale who looked kind of feminine, presumably its mother.

The birds headed for the separated Phail Whale and dipped low to the water. The clear net disappeared underneath the surface of the water, and the birds hovered close to the surface as the Phail Whale propelled itself gently towards the net. It didn’t swim as such; with a big flick of its large, inverted handlebar moustache, it glided towards the net.

It glided to a stop more or less within the net’s boundaries, and sang loudly to signal the birds that it was ready. “Ffffftt aaaaaal.”

The birds tweeted back, and their little white and orange wings flapping madly, started to lift the Phail Whale up.

It didn’t seem that difficult for them, and before long the Phail Whale rose from the surface of the sea around the Twitter Isles.

Rain’s breath caught in her chest. It was beautiful, and so serene. The Phail Whale was singing loudly. It was so loud that, as they rose to several dozen feet above the heads of the spectators, Rain could feel the song vibrating in her chest. It was beautiful.

The Phail Whale was calm and serene, and – and smiling. She didn’t know Phail Whales could smile, but this one was, and it was singing.

“It’s reassuring the others,” Lina whispered. “It’s telling them that everything is fine and that the view from the top is beautiful. It’s telling them that they’re going to a better place with lots of fish and warm water and funny humans.”

Rain couldn’t help but smile. “It’s so gorgeous…”

And then everything went wrong.

She saw the lights in the sky first, and she thought perhaps they were more birds. As they emerged from the cloud cover, she saw what they were.

Fireballs.

Travelling at high speed.

Towards the Phail Whale.

She didn’t even have time to scream when the first fireball struck.