Water Off a Duck’s Back
As the sky turned from blue to grey, Gertrude, the eldest, was beginning to fret. She needed to guide her siblings across the river and through the thick scrub before darkness fell.
Gertrude glanced behind to check on the others. Typical. Alfie was heading in the opposite direction. “Alfie!” she squawked, ruffling her feathers and glaring at her brother, “get back into line right now.”
“I think we should go this way,” said Alfie, pointing upriver.
“I knew this would happen,” said Gertrude, with her wings on her hips. “I told mother you couldn’t be trusted and would not do as you were told, but did she listen? No!”
Alfie placed his wings over his ears.
“Well, it’s your neck on the line,” said Gertrude with her beak in the air as she headed towards the river.
While his sisters battled the strong current and the thorny bushes, Alfie legged it up the path, crossed over the rickety old bridge and was home in no time at all.
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