Bernard and the flock had given up being mad. They huddled together for warmth and they were all trying to relax for the big flight in a few hours. Sleep was rare, and those who could catch some were envied.
He ran the route and direction over and over in his head and wearied Simon and Oliver and Aubrey by running the plan by them over and over. He'd tried to orient again, and the vague direction pointed where he thought was South. Good. He too allowed himself to imagine the fantasy of the South. Warmth and food. Soon.
YOU ARE READING
The Goose Chronicles
General FictionBernard the goose navigator is having some problems migrating his flock Southwards. It's early November and his gaggle is still northward. He's a goose, though. What would you expect? Bronwyn, the geese-watching girl, observes the gaggle's many iss...
