Abner whispered to himself, a victorious grin on his bill.
He had his own ways of knowing that Mary’s child had run away once again - And even if Abner and Fethry had parted ways after series of heated squabbles about their father, Fethry wasn’t there to give his opinion about nothing.
Abner was an experienced woodsman but even to him, it took several days deep in the woods to find the feral boy.
He ignores the apples being thrown at him. “You shouldn’t throw away food…” Abner talks nonchalantly, sitting right below the tree Biquinho was.
As a good hunter, he knew he needed a good bait. He took into consideration what Fethry would like and what was normally effective on attracting wild animals.
The lumberjack opened a large jar of peanut butter and put it in his side for the boy to smell. The loon duck was next to it, but completely still, as he didn’t want to spook Biquinho.
As a last lure he sang the loon wail, a call loons would use to call their own young; Abner was really thankful no one else was here to listen to him making the delicate and sweet sound his mother would sing for him, Mary and Fethry when she wanted to soothe them down.
All loon vocalizations were way too feminine for Abner to make, in his opinion. But just this time… He would use it.
A panicked squeal as the familiar stranger pointed him out. Biquinho stuck his tongue out from above, but even that couldn’t hide the boy’s apprehension. That man, what if he tried to bring him back to his Uncle? The thought of it made him tremble within the branches, leaves shaking off in tandem with his fears.
Throwing away food? Of course he wasn’t! He could always pick off the apples from the ground. For a few good moments, Biquinho paid no mind to the bait. Not for a lack of temptation of course, but he couldn’t take the risk of being caught again.
After all, he was no one’s pet. No one’s toy to be played with, a mere thing to be tamed. Nothing could ever–
It was familiar, so soothing, yet it was nothing like he’d ever remembered hearing. He stopped shaking the canopy to get a better listen, and could only wonder how such a sweet song could come from someone so gruff. Though he tried to ignore it, nostalgia overwhelmed him with a longing for something he’d never had.
Biquinho eyed the jar of peanut butter for a good ten seconds, then reluctantly climb down. As he carefully reached the forest floor, one had to wonder how the duckling became so disheveled. Matted feathers, tears in his sweater, and his shoes so worn that he was better off going barefoot. The poor thing looked like he hadn’t been preened in weeks on end.
As intended, he practically dug into the jar. Licking the sides, sticking his beak into the container, scooping out globs of peanut butter to eat out of his hands. It was messy for sure, but Biquinho’s squeaks and smacking bill were a good indication that he liked the meal. He’d sometimes glance at Abner between bites to see if he’d pull anything funny, but the bait was clearly working.
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