♠ 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕕𝕠𝕞 𝕆𝕗 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕤 ♠

Cₕₐₚₜₑᵣ ₑᵢgₕₜ: ₚᵢcₖₗₑₛ₋?

//Sorry for unusual upload times. I fell asleep. Please forgive me.

// Also, if someone could make a new cover image, that would be very much appreciated. The current one really doesn't fit this very well.

The sun rose slowly, heating up Las Nevadas. Tumbleweeds danced in the empty roads, the cold fountain water gently splashing. The scent of fresh food filled the air. The city was slowly waking up. Slowly, carefully, starting its day, careful to not wake anyone up.

But it wasn't the only one.

Pigeon sat by the Eiffel Tower, watching the sun rise. She was daydreaming of places beyond Las Nevadas. Somewhere.

Maybe if I knew how to fly, Pigeon thought, I could leave this place behind. I could, perhaps, find my other parent. If I have one. I hope I do. Quackity is a shit father.

She had heard only legends, stories, of another like her. She had heard that this person lived beyond the desert, beyond Kinoko Kingdom, in the arctic tundra. Another person with wings, like her. She wanted to find them. She wanted to know how to fly. How to fly beyond the factions and into the wilderness. Where she could be away from this madness.

Sand crunched behind her. She could tell someone was approaching her, and they were approaching swiftly. If she was right, they rushed over to her. Probably with ill intentions.

She stood up. "Whatcha need?" Pigeon turned around to see Fundy, holding a little brown rabbit.

Fundy smiled. "I found this rabbit not far from here. It doesn't seem like it's wild. It's like-"

"-someone had it as a pet before and they let it loose." She smiled, feeling her heart melt.

"I thought, maybe, you'd like to keep him. I even picked out a name for him! You don't have to use it, but I think it's very fitting for him." Fundy said, stroking the rabbit's back. The rabbit was calm. It was average size, with wide eyes, taking in its surroundings, as they were all new to it. It seemed scared, but not of Fundy and Pigeon.

"I call him Pickles. He was around a bunch of cucumbers when I found him. He was hurt, but I healed him right up! Just for you!" Fundy said, his voice filled with a childish sense of joy that never seemed to age.

"I- I have no words, Fundy. He's so precious. Are you sure you don't want to keep him? I mean, I'd be glad to take him, but-"

"I was hoping I could check on him every once in a while. It's up to you, though." Fundy said, still smiling.

"Of course," she said, holding out her arms. Fundy gently placed the rabbit into Pigeon's arms. Pickles nuzzled her. He was very calm, not a fear among him. Pickles felt safe in her arms.

"Well," Fundy said, the smile fading from his face, being replaced with a less sincere smile, "I guess we should be heading back. Me especially, Big Q will probably already have words with me, y'know?"

"Yeah. He'll probably yell at me if I don't hurry to the hotel, too. See you around!"

"See you!"

The two set off on their way to their work. Pigeon went the long way to the hotel, while Fundy went the fast way to the casino on a completely different route. Pigeon still had Pickles cradled in her arms. She pulled a bit of a cookie from her pocket and fed it to him. He ate it with joy. Pigeon had never seen something so innocent and so happy. She never felt as happy as she did when Fundy gave the rabbit to her. She continued to bring Pickles everywhere with her that day. He even followed her around when she couldn't hold him in her arms, or on her shoulder.

// In loving memory of my stuffed rabbit of the same name as the one seen in this chapter. May you always be in our hearts.

Here's some backstory on the real Pickles:

I got him when I was about two years old. We found him at a toy store on clearance near my house, since, at the time, my family wasn't very rich. He was only about a dollar. I never put him down. Ever. He was always with me from then on. We played in pillow forts, went on vacations around the country together, imagined whole worlds together, hiked, and so much more. My mother became pregnant when I was five and a half, and my dad had a new job opportunity in his old hometown (we were living in my mom's hometown), and I was told I couldn't bring more than three stuffed animals out of their box. Sadly, my dad picked three for me, and Pickles wasn't one of them. He chose two cats and my lion pillow, E (yes, that's his actual name, I still have him, too). I was in tears. My other favorite stuffed toy, a stuffed panda bear in a cute pink skirt (I forget her name, but I bet my dad remembers. I think it was, like, Rawr, or something. She was amazing. She also came everywhere with me, and whenever I lost Pickles for a solid month, she helped me look for him. Her and Pickles were best friends. If only I could find her. I know she's here somewhere.) was also left in the box. Of course, the company who helped us move put my stuff in first, so when my dad asked if he could get the box, it was too late. We left all the boxes we brought to our new house in the new house in the basement and went to get more over the span of two years. But we started officially unpacking two months after the whole moving truck thing. I couldn't find my stuffed animal boxes (we had about seven altogether, and ended up devoting a while half of our new basement to just stuffed animals. However, my mom donated most of them, which made me cry.). I searched every stuffed animal box over and over for Pickes and Rawr and a few others, but I couldn't find them. I couldn't find my favorite blanket, either.

(Oh no, I'm starting to cry. I haven't looked upon these memories in years. I'm hugging Pickles right now to try and stop me from crying. I'm sorry if you're crying, I recommend skipping ahead to the next chapter if you don't want to cry. I'll keep telling his story, though. Just in case you want to know)

We finally found him after seven months. He had missed my sixth birthday party, which made me cry so much. He had been to every other birthday party of mine. I was so happy when I saw him and Rawr right next to each other. They were accidentally misplaced and put into a box of my pretend tea set. I immediately had a tea party with them and some other stuffed animals. Fast forward to February, we were told in first grade that we could bring in a stuffed animal one day. I brought in Pickles, and everyone made fun of me. Even my first grade teacher, and she was shit as it was. My one cat had also recently passed away in front of my eyes, too, and I ended up having an emotional breakdown and going home early, only because of the front desk lady, Lisa, and the principal, who was good friends with my dad (she still is, and I love to talk with her sometimes, too). I took Pickles and ran to the front desk when I said I had to use the restroom (I snuck him with me, dirty crime rabbit) and I ran all the way around my elementary school, even through the hallway of the people who made fun of my name, first and last. I got to the lobby/front desk, and told them everything. They called my dad and they got my things. My first grade teacher didn't give a shit that I was leaving early. My dad took me home. I told him about everything. He sent me outside with Pickes, Rawr, and Poppy (a stuffed orange cat, who I think, perhaps, got donated-? We may still have her somewhere. I hope we do, I love the song she plays), and my dad brought out some of his stuffed animals, and we had a picnic with them in the back yard. My mom wasn't home at the time, but if she were, she would have yelled big time. We spent the rest of the day (several hours, mind you) and even into the night, staring at the sky, playing hide and seek and pretend and tag and, well, so many games. We made so many jokes. I remember a few, to this day.

(Holy shit, this is longer than the chapter itself. Well, I guess you get more later. I made many more stories about Pickles)