Дмитрий Мансуров - Invasion

All the fox had to do was sit back and watch the impromptu talk show.

“People won’t think of doing something like this for a thousand more years!” the fox muttered proudly. She had an idea to add some more dirty details to keep the show going, but the remnants of conscience didn’t allow her to taunt the locals like this.

The birds were sorting things out quite violently. They broke branches, tore out each other’s feathers and leaves, shouted, and swore. The fox nodded along, slowly eating the birds that’d been knocked out. There had to be some benefit from such scandals!

The Bully flew into the Quirky forest by accident. He sat down on a twig to rest when suddenly someone shouted, “So greedy!!!”, and everyone around him exploded into violent arguments. All kinds of things flew in the sparrow’s direction and a great slaughter began, threatening to grow into a huge forest war of a “everyone fends for themselves” type. Bully looked at the local fun in horror and hurried to fly out of the combat zone.

‘It’s a bit noisy here,’ he thought. ‘ They might kill me by accident… I have to fly to the north. Nobody lives near Kashchey’s castle, and no one is going to fight there!.. Though flying to Kashchey… that’s scary. I’m already worried!’

The crow that had flown farther than anyone else decided to eat. She settled in an empty nest and pulled out some fruit she’d plucked from the yellow-leaved trees. It smelled of bread and resembled an apple. She inhaled the fragrant smell, pecked the fruit, and grimaced. It tasked like a lemon, only much sourer. Unclenching her cramped beak with difficulty, the crow spat out the decoy, swept the treacherous fruit away with her wings, and shook her head, trying to get rid of the lemon smell and taste.

The fruit broke into pieces, and a nickel-covered fish swooped down on it. Cunning faces peered from behind the branches. They looked at the fish and waited to see if there would be some severed tails. Nothing happened, so they disappeared into thin air.

The crow cawed resentfully and took off. She didn’t know that the unripe fruit she had so thoughtlessly tasted had the smell of fresh bread and the taste of lemon, nor that when it matured, it began to smell like a lemon and taste like bread. But the most terrible thing was that it created very bizarre glitches in the mind of those who tasted it.

The crow’s mood improved quickly, and if not for the lemon taste in her mouth, she would have felt quite good.

‘It’s so wonderful to live in this world!’ the crow thought. ‘ Especially if you are a creature with the teeth and wings that it is flying right at me. What does it want? To eat or just bite me?’

Her mood was extremely uncaring. Let it bite.

The creature with the teeth and the wings was approaching, and the crow was staring indifferently, not trying to do anything aside from just wait for the development of events. Finally, the moment came. The choir of teeth began to sing a charming song, and the thinking part of population of the woods hid at the first sound, crawling into the deeper corners. The teeth flew over the head of the crow and returned for a second run. She yawned, wondering how she was still hanging in the air. She wanted to sleep, and then the teeth shouted something. What did they want? Were they looking for a free jaw? They should try it with someone else. Birds had no teeth, after all. Though why would they need teeth? It’d be difficult to shut the jaws, the food would get stuck, and something like a toothache would happen. Who needed such torment? So no, no teeth!

“Down with teeth!” the crow cried out drunkenly. Someone yanked her by the tail. Hard. The creature that did this whisked the crow under a branch, so the teeth flew by, the six-foot jaws snapping dangerously close.

The crow was indignant.

“Hey! Where are your manners? I’ll peck you!”

“Shut up!” the stranger grumbled. “Unless you want to be chewed by those teeth!”

“Chewed?” the crow asked. “Chewed what? I also want to chew something! Hey, teeth, share the gum!”

“Did you eat the brain-freezing berries, you black-winged fool?”

“Look at yourself…” the crow tried to focus her vision and see her impolite interlocutor. It didn’t work well. “What brain-freezing berries?”

“Berries like lemon bread.”

“Delicious berries. Horribly sour. I wanted to spit them out.”

“Never again, do you hear me? Never eat them again!”

“Why is that?”

“Because your brain will glitch!.. Though what am I talking about? It already has! Do you understand?”

“No.

“I knew it.”

The crow shook her head, still fruitlessly trying to focus her vision.

“I want to fly far north!” she shared her plans for the nearest future.

“Sit tight until the teeth fly away. Then go wherever you want. Understand?”

“Nope.”

“I knew it.”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“Brontoquack.”

“Who’s that?”

“It’s me.”

The crow shook her head again. The teeth kept flying in the sky, looking for a victim and letting out some unearthly sounds.

“Why did you yank me by my tail?” the crow asked indignantly.

“To save you from the teeth. They’d chew you up.”

“They’re that hungry?”

“No, they just love to chew. They chew and chew until there’s nothing left.”

The bright lights flashed in the crow’s head. Something pounded against her temples wildly, and then she came to her senses. The berries had lost their effect. Everything she’d been saying while under their influence instantly slipped from her memory.

“What am I doing here?” the crow asked in bewilderment.

“I knew it!” Brontoquack said. “Do you remember what I’ve just told you?”

“No. Did you say something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Then repeat it,” the crow asked. “I remember I was flying, and I saw some bird… no, I saw the teeth! The flying teeth! You must look at this miracle at once! I’ve never seen the teeth flying by themselves before! Who gave them the wings?”

Brontoquack patiently repeated his story, starting with the berries. The crow was gasping as she stared at him, trying to understand what her savior looked like. Like a duck? No. More like a swan with a shortened neck and arms instead of wings. The wings were located a little further down his back. Two palms and fingers with retractable claws.

“Why are you known as Brontoquack?” the crow asked.

“Because when I was a kid, I told everyone that I would grow into a huge and great Brontoquack.”

“What’s your real name?”

“I don’t remember. Not anymore,” Brontoquack shrugged.

The teeth continued to rush through the forest, calling the forest dwellers sweetly, offering them the role of the food.

“How long do they usually fly?”

“Until one of us is caught and chewed.”

“How often does it happen?”

“Every day,” Brontoquack said.

The crow didn’t like such news. How could she get to the castle if the teeth would constantly fly and bother her?

“They are not from Kashchey’s castle, are they?”

“No, not at all! They live much closer. Kashchey has exiled them from his territory.”

“How?”

“He went out to meet them a few times.”

“So what?”

“They broke all their teeth by trying to bite him. Over and over again. They can’t help but chew someone who gets into their teeth, so they moved here for better options.”

“Good news. Finally.”

“Do you like Kashchey then?”

“No, but there are no jokers near his castle, and you can rest there for a while.”