As told by Doom

This was all sorts of what the fuckery. First she was volunteered in leading the group expedition to Rise and Co. (all for the glory of salted duck), forced to share her beauty regimen alone time with Phlox, Crocus, Clematis, Persimmon and Chockecherry (it was a sight to see, all six in mud masks surrounded by floating flower petals), but now "Auntie Doom" was in charge of bedtime stories for this specific night. Laying astride, she scratched her head against a log thoughtfully. Usually these stories had a point. A lesson. A.. moral. Ha! A foreign concept, indeed. This responsibility stuff was odd. Gloom, Look-See and Doom were a tight knit group who grew up on their own. They were their own storytellers. And so she pulled from the furthest recess of her nimble mind, between the cobwebs of dreams and surrealism, a tale on things she knew best: destruction and rebellion. But for her nieces and nephews, a more age appropriate one of course.

It was a lengthy list of creation for MotherFather. The giant Crane had finished ushering forth landmasses amid an ocean, small animals and finally laid her large eggs in the largest pocket of marshy waters. Her favorite of the small creatures were the watersnake. Land and water they could navigate, making them the perfect enforcers and guards for her precious eggs. Their svelte bodies slid seamlessly between crevices of the pile of eggs, rotating them in position for the sun's warmth. She doted on them and they knew it. And like any dutiful child growing up, they tested her patience and boundaries, pushing to see how far they could go. With their bodies, a giant nest of them carved the lanscape, dividing the it into different regions. They barreled through forming canyons, rivers and mountains, altering the landmass forever. Seasons appeared. Snow happened. They sent half of the eggs down those rivers thinking MotherFather wouldn't notice them missing. The eggs landed in all sorts of terrain, with the watersnakes surfing the eggs to ensure they landed safely. All for adventure! They looked to MotherFather. She did not not object, nor did she say much. She had grown noticeably tired after laying her final creation, the eggs. She slept more, each time waking up for shorter periods.

Rebellious, the watersnakes strived to incense her ire once more. They started stealing her feathers. It started out as a game. See who could steal one before she noticed. "Don't wake MotherFather!" was the name of the game. Soon a pile amassed. And honey flowed, and because watersnakes are watersnakes, they slid in the thick amber liquid and found delight when the feathers stuck. They would arch up and dance, proud of their inventions and try to wake the giant Crane. "Look! We have wings, too!" they would joyously yell to the sleeping form. Anything for MotherFather's attention. Of course they couldn't fly, but those were carefree days.

A very bald Crane woke later to the revelry. Like any proud parent, she could not fault them for their growth. While she neglected them, they had made their own paths in life and contributed to what she had created. Life bloomed under their chaotic destruction. She tried hard to hide to her smile. Finally giving up, she arched her head back and forced her body to rise. Looking down at her beloved small creatures, she rewarded their rebellion. Now they could wander about on land, water and air. Her eggs will always be looked after.

And between the this moment and next, it had grown time for MotherFather to sleep for a long while. The eggs had hatched successfuly. MotherFather invited the feathered serpents to slumber with her and so they did. They had their fun. But some stayed behind, always watching over MotherFather and their handiwork, waiting for when she would wake once more.