5 The Wintlorian Warning

The Wintlorian Warning In Wintloria, Claudette was struggling. The feasting tree had been evacuated to make her a new home, because she was too weak to fly to her own part of the forest. Her recovery was being aided by a mixture of science and nature. One of her wings was hooked up to a D.o.R.R.i.S. beeping machine, while the rest of her body was smothered in Wintlorian leaves, bark, and fruit foraged by the other parrots. Still, there was something

getting in the way of her recovery—something that no Dorris or parrot could understand. As Mortimer watched Claudette squawk and flap in a fretful sleep, he felt helpless. She had been like this ever since she'd fainted in his wings—neither conscious enough to engage with the world, nor unconscious enough to enjoy the rest she needed. "Hi-di-hi, Morty! What a devoted little sausage!" said Giulietta, as she swooped into the tree. "You still here then, are you?" Mortimer had no intention of answering such a stupid question. "Did you hear me, Morty?" asked Giulietta. Just like all the other parrots in the forest, she was making an excessive effort to remain cheerful in the face of tragedy. "Maybe you're

too tired to listen. Shall I get Frederick to fly you up to the tree of restfulness?" "I'm fine," said Mortimer, through a gritted beak. He didn't take his eyes off Claudette. "But you haven't left her side since she got here," said Giulietta. She put a wing around Mortimer. He flinched. The only parrot he allowed to hug him was Claudette. "You must be pooped." "I'll never leave her," said Mortimer. "Not as long as she needs me." "What she needs now is rest," said Giulietta. "She has everything she needs to recover." "I'll scour the forest for fruit that the others have missed. I'll fly to D.o.R.R.i.S. for a different doctor," said Mortimer. He was speaking to himself more than anyone else,

but he still succeeded in offending Agents Hughie, Stewie, and Louie, who were fussing around Claudette's bed. "There's got to be something I can do!" "The only thing we can do is wait," said Giulietta. "If you really won't sleep, then some of us parrots are going to crowd around this tree and sing cheery lullabies to soothe Claudette. I know you're not much of a singer, but you could add your voice to the choir if you like?" "A song won't cure Claudette," spat Mortimer. "A song can soothe the soul and mend the heart. Why, the right song in the right ear can—" began Giulietta. "A song is clearly no match for the beast!" snapped Mortimer.

Mortimer and the other parrots had been warned not to speak of the beast in front of Claudette. The D.o.R.R.i.S. machine beeped faster and louder than it had ever done before, and Claudette's eyes began to stir with a more disturbing variety of dream. In times past, Claudette had shared her dreams with the young parrots of Wintloria as bedtime stories. If she did that now, none of them would ever sleep again. She kept murmuring words and faces that she had seen in the beast's mind. "Rapscallicus… Morgana… BETHANYYY," said Claudette. She slowly blinked herself awake. "What the… who the…?" Mortimer flew over to comfort her. Her voice was too weak for him to hear, so he leaned closer to her beak.

"The beast is hungry… the beast is always hungry, and its mind is always cunning. Don't let it be cunning, Morty… don't let it escape from where it's trapped… and, whatever you do, don't let it eat," said Claudette. She was at war with her own exhaustion. "If it eats, it'll eat… it'll eat… SAVE BETHANY!" "Who and where is Bethany?" asked Mortimer, as softly as he could. "Claudette? I can't save Bethany unless I know where to find her." Claudette fell back into her jittery sleep. Mortimer tried giving her a gentle shake, but it didn't work. He could feel a river of purple tears swimming in his eyelids, but he was determined not to shed a single one. "What did she say?" asked human Agent Hughie.