Now, just about everyone knows not to go out at night when the storms roll in and you think you hear the pounding of hooves behind the roll of thunder. Most students know that campus can get some pretty wicked tornados, so you shouldn’t risk walking the storm. A few know that there’s no storm at all, just the coming of a Hunt.
The school has tried different tactics over the years. Sounding the shelter-in-place alarms works well, apart from those students determined to get to the computer lab to finish that oh so important assignment. The right person making the right deals might get enough information to schedule a school break at an advantageous time, but not all students leave campus on holiday. Always, always, people fall through the cracks, for once the Wild Hunt chooses its prey, there’s nothing you can do.
But then one year a transfer student suggests a new school tradition, brought over from her previous university and tweaked for this place’s… special circumstances.
I had class at the gardens today and while I was eating lunch by the pond, watching the family of ducks that comes into the picnic area to beg for food. Today, the mother mallard had her offspring in tow. The sight was very adorable and resulted in much salad and fries being thrown thier way. I was only sort of paying attention to thier movments when the following conversation took place at the next table over:
Toddler, just learning how to talk: *excited gasp* A FUCK!
Mother: JENNA NO!
Jenna, bouncing up and down with glee: BABYS! BABY FUCKS! BABY FUCKS!
Mother, hissing whisper of desperation: J e n n a p l e a s e !
Jenna, ecstatic:FEEDA FUCKS! FEEDA FUCKS!
Jenna, turning to me and gesturing: BABY FUCKS!!
Me: Yeah! Did you know a baby Duck is called a Duckling?
Jenna: !!!!!
Jenna: MOMMY! FUCKLEYS!
Mother: I’m so sorry.
Me: Are you kidding? This is the highlight of my week.
Jenna, chanting as shes loadedint the stroller and wheeled away: BA-BY FUCK-LEY! BA-BY FUCK-LEY! BA-BY FUCK-LEY!
The ducks continued their search for fries, uncaring.
