Of Traitors and Travels

Chapter 1: Inciting Incident

           Mike looked up as a few of those annoying brown bugs whizzed over his head. They seemed to be everywhere this time of year. Mike had never been fond of Spring. Spring meant the air was full of pollen and insects, and the days were longer and warmer. Night was when Mike felt his best. He could stand all night on top of this quiet little hill, drinking in the moon's rich beams of light. 

          A sudden shadow passed over Mike's head, breaking his train of thought.  He looked up in time to see a great blur of black and purple shoot through the sky, toward the run down tree house that Mike called home.

         "A messenger raven?" he gasped. He hadn't gotten a letter in centuries. Grabbing a handful of his overalls, Mike hiked up his clothing and made a break for his house. When he arrived, he dropped his bag and stared up in awe. Mike was always amazed by the sheer size and magnificence of the noble birds that delivered messages from the capital. They were the largest things he had ever seen. For some reason his mind kept wandering back to that crazy hermit in town. 

          "Is the world big, or are we just small?" the memory of his words echoed in Mike's head. He took a deep breath and sauntered up the magnificent beast. It turned to face him, letting Mike peer into its cold black eyes. It opened its beak and contorted its neck, and began to convulse violently. After a few seconds, it gave a final cough, and spit a letter onto the ground. Without a second's break, it batted its wings, launching itself into the cool air and quickly disappearing into the sunset.

           Mike stooped down and picked up the fluid soaked parchment. A purple wax seal adorned the front. He broke the seal, unfolded the paper, and shook it.  His face contorted as he examined the letter. Mike had never been a good reader. He had grown up in the country side where the only writing around was the Mush Co label on the stuffed sacks he used as a pillow.  He read the letter aloud to himself.

         "D-D-Dear Sir or Ma-madam, I am in g-gr-gra-grave need of your as-assis-assistank-assistance. I am a rich p-prince of a land called N-N-Nig-Nigeria. I have been s-st-stranded in Stutopia, and will give you one-" Mike paused and scratched his head. He knew what he was reading was a number, but he had never seen so many zeros before. "...Sporelins if you could help me out. I need a small don-donation of 50 Sporelins to get my money back. P-please bring  the money to WestShroom bank and deposit it to account 1-5-9-1-4-5-7-6. Thank you, f-friend." Mike stood and reflected on what he had just read. He didn't even know he had a Nigerian friend, but this friend needed his help. And he would be generous enough to compensate Mike for his troubles. He knew he had exactly 62 Sporelins saved up in case of an emergency. It would take him at least 8 to pay the fare for a coach ride to Stutopia, but he was didn't need to worry about money, because his new friend could pay him back.

         It had been so long since Mike had left his little tree house in the countryside. He didn't even know what to bring with him. He quickly went into his bedroom, and removed the stuffing from his Mush Co sack pillow to fill it with some of his belongings. Mike reached out his short stubby arms and grabbed his 62 Sporelins, a half-eaten tube of NutriCream, and a jar of mud from the shelf above his bed. He went into his hall closet, and grabbed a cloak and his walking stick.

         Mike stepped through his doorway and took a deep breath. Was this really what Mike wanted to do? He hadn't left his quiet home in so long. He turned and looked at the rundown tree house, and then to the path leading down to the river. The vine covered walls of his tree house held a lifetime of memories, but that dirt path held a world of possibilities. 

         He made up his mind. With one last quick glance, Mike turned away from his house and started down the uneven dirt path. It had not even crossed his mind that this would be the last time Mike would ever see his tree house.