Written by Desert Sun - June, 2004
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(Please note: the characters of the Lancer television series do not belong to me and were used without permission. This was written for fun, not profit.)
Darkness had fallen and the air was chilly. The pile of hay inside the shadowy doorway of the barn looked inviting, so he hollowed out a nest with his feet, squatted, and then wiggled until the sides conformed to his body. It wasn't home, but it wasn't bad. Not bad at all.
A puff of cold air tickled his nose. With a shake of his head, he shivered then quickly arched his long neck and tucked his beak beneath a protective wing.
Satisfied that he was much warmer, he relaxed. His eyelids slid shut but his mind refused to slow immediately. It was still filled with unsettling events that had come his way that day.
His body shuddered again. Nothing had gone right. First, he had been rousted from his comfortable stall, stuffed into a dark, musty smelling bag, and then bounced around on something that rumbled and swayed beneath him. Death had seemed certain until he was released into strange surroundings.
All I wanted was to take a little gander, get my bearings, stretch my limbs and clear my lungs. Don't know what the fuss was all about, he silently groused, recalling the spooking horses racing away with the wagon.
Thought I was a cooked goose for sure. Would've been if that little man hadn't stood up to that other giant. Suppose, I'm lucky to belong to Jelly. Just one thing . . . don't he know Dewdrop's no name for a gander? With that he fell asleep.