Pity was in another castle, Bowser unveiled no remorse for the wheezing avian at his back. He abandoned Big Bird, disappearing beyond the veil of potential sight in order to press onward. Dedede only slowed him down anyway, and his wastebin for complaints was overflowing. His knuckles cracked as he opened and closed his claw– it took a great deal of mental fortitude to resist spinning round and sucker punching his frustrations against the royal’s beak.
However, only a few seconds after parting ways, he came across a sight which overwhelmed even his powerful will: the oak tree. The same oak tree they had passed again, and again, and again. It was that constant itch, the friend Bowser wished he could forget. Face to face with the brilliant bark, his fangs began to grind.
“I HATE YOU…” Its silence mocked him. Perhaps he would have been more violent towards it were his energy reserves not as empty as the car a good mile behind them. Wandering through the night was pointless. Their best chance was to wait until morning, where they could use other less imposing trees to guide them.
His footpads scarred the Earth as he dragged them back towards the royal pain; finding him was as easy as following the raspy gasps. Bowser paused a short distance away, kicking a few twigs between them. “Alright, alright. Ya Big Baby. We’ll set up camp here. When the sun comes up, we should be able to see your ugly castle. I’ll roll you right to it. Can Daddy’s little chicken wing survive a night in the big bad woods?” He spoke as if he were briefing children, and he left little room to discuss it. For a second after, he spit flame between them and ignited the brush, spawning their new campfire.
Collapsing before the dancing fire, Bowser sprawled free. His feet guarded the flames, and he leaned backward, using the base of his shell and his palms as posts to support his posture. Briefly, he glanced towards the sky– not even the moon was kind enough to grant them respite. Everything about this forest was unwelcoming, it felt as if the tree themselves despised their presence.
If only he knew the true lore of Whispy Woods.
The burly beast kept his strong appearance outward, but even he wasn’t immune to the enemies of their lost trial. His stomach growled like a demon lurking in the night, the air grew colder, and the dim lighting made them easy pickings– sleeping presented itself as a risk rather than a reward. Electing to break the monotony of the crackling fires, he attempted conversation.
“Feh… so what’s with these woods, huh? They’re dark, but they don’t look so special to me. It better not be some lame ghost story.”
❝ Heh, good riddance I say! ❞ Contrary to his words the monarch began to feel quite apprehensive. Sure he was a big guy but being out here on your lonesome, in the middle of Whispy Woods of all places…, it was very unsettling.
The king was far too stubborn to go trekking after the burly brute. Even if he had just made quite the display of himself with that not-so-little tantrum before; he was not about to tarnish the rest of his reputation. Especially not in front of the Mushroom Kingdom’s local Tyrant.
Whilst Bowser was gone, probably sulking somewhere, all of Dedede’s attempts to lie to himself and convince himself that he was unafraid of these woods was going to no avail. With every second it felt like the trees were drawing in on him.
They were to be stuck out here forever at this rate! If it wasn’t for Bowser’s rust bucket of a vehicle breaking down and Bowser’s lack of sense in direction the two of them wouldn’t be lost and-thinking of Bowser…where had he gone off to?-Oh,…there he was. The penguin’s baby blues could only just make out Bowser’s shadow with the feeble glow of the moonlight shining through the branches of the trees and the familiar sound of the paws dragging across the Earth.
❝ Look who came crawlin’ back… ❞
Ugly castle?! Daddy’s little chicken wing? Who in the stars did he think he was talking to?! ❝ Hush on up with that lous'eh chicken stuff. I ain’t no chicken! ❞ If he had gotten anymore unnerved mere moments ago he probably would have started to clucking.
The monarch stopped his whimpering and held his breath. He folded his flippers and rolled his eyes, it was safer with Bowser not to let up on how mortified he actual was about being completely lost in these woods and how starved he was. Or about how he missed his bed and- The noise sounding from the latter’s belly indicated that they were both equally as famished.
Finally the two of them were beginning to have a discussion that wasn’t so heated but how long could they actually maintain this for? Not much longer probably.
What was it with these woods?
❝ These here woods are home t'Whipsy Woods. Hence the name. He’s an old tree who - ❞ Kicked my behind several times. - ❝ well we’re jus’ lucky he seems t'be sleepin’ right now. Travellers. They’s always gettin’ lost in these here woods! Whispy Woods- ❞ Grrrll! Now it was Dedede’s stomach to sound a its demand for supplement.
