Chapter Text
Huey let his head fall firmly into his hands as the fuzz of Scrooge’s mind vanished, leaving him to the mercy of his sucking-quicksand thoughts. He half regretted leaving, he realized, as a dampness began to slide down his cheeks without his permission. Why was he crying? He wasn’t sure, but he was too tired to care- feeling little but a dull, void-like ache in his chest. The tears became uncomfortably cold against his thinning feathers, and he realized for the first time just how chilly it was in the cave. Whimpering, he made his way to the left, where both of his brothers were huddled in a fluffy pile, sleeping restlessly. He must have been gone longer than he’d realized, then. Sighing, he made his way around the tangle of limbs and feathers and settled himself comfortably atop the pile, feeling the familiar warmth of his siblings seep into him like the rays of the setting sun. One small sigh escaped, and then his eyes fell closed, succumbing to the numbness of unconsciousness.
——
“Urghh…” Dewey moaned quietly, his dry eyes cracking open with a rather startling crunch. The world spun as he shifted, ushering a spike of pain to snag at his brain in protest of the movement. His whole head was filled with sand- hot and stifling and muffled and awful. For a moment, he thought he’d died, unable to find where he was in relativity to anything else- but he quickly realized that he was simply buried beneath a snow-white pile of feathers. Or rather; a scuffed dirty-slush kind of white. The normally pristine and well-groomed fluff of his brothers had now been reduced to a plain, patchy grey. He growled softly, fighting his way out of the crush and facing muffled murmurs of complaint. Finally, he broke free, nursing the worst case of cottonmouth he’d ever felt. By god he was thirsty.
He smacked his lips, feeling them peel apart like the skin of an orange. Blargh. He spun in a slow circle, looking for some miracle cure-all to his splitting migraine and cracked lips. There- his backpack. Water. Water would help. He shuffled lethargically for his canteen, only vaguely remembering the shape of it as he discarded several items that he didn’t recognize.
Aha! His fingertips grazed the curvature of the flask, grasping around it triumphantly. ”Bingo.” He crowed quietly, so as not to wake Huey- who had begun to stir.
Tilting the canteen to his beak, he prepared for the sweet rush of water down his throat, and was sorely disappointed when none came. Not even a measly drop to satiate his swollen, burning tongue.
He groaned, resolving that he simply had to wake Huey and ask if he had any water. He swiveled back, placing his hands on his brother’s shoulder and shaking roughly. ”Huey!” He hissed. ”HUEY!”
The duckling woke almost immediately with a parental gasp, reaching forward to clutch the hand of his younger brother in a panic. “What is it? What’s happened?! Are you okay? Where’s Louie?!” He sputtered, feathers expanding in alarm.
“What?” Dewey asked incredulously, shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong- I’m just thirsty.”
Huey let out a mixed sigh of relief and exhaustion, collapsing back onto Louie. “You’re sure you don’t have any?” He asked groggily. Dewey shook his head. “Did you check?” Huey deadpanned, and Dewey nodded.
“Uh-“ He ran a hand across his eyes, catching the lower lids. “I don’t have any left. You’ll have to ask one of the Uncles.” He gestured vaguely to the area in which the uncles were sleeping, then asked Dewey if he needed anything else. At Dewey’s confirmation that he was fine, Huey returned to a laying position and proceeded to conk out before his head had entirely rested down. His snores echoed gently across the chamber as Dewey perambulated towards his uncles like a water-zombie in search of hydration.
“Un- Uncle Donaaaald…” Dewey whined, maintaining a vice grip on his Uncle’s shoulders and shaking him more roughly than was really necessary.
Donald squawked as he was awoken, blinking awake instantaneously and straightening up in shock. He jumped up after a split second, swinging bleary eyes across the cave with quick, panicked breathing before finally noticing his nephew stood in front of him.
"Dewey!" he hissed, lowering himself down into a crouch to address the boy. He placed a firm hand on each of his nephew's shoulders. "What's going on? Is everything okay?" He looked the duckling up and down, as if noting every single out-of-place feather. "Are you hurt?"
“Uh- no?” Dewey whispered. “Why does everybody think that? I just need water.” He emphasized, oblivious to the parental instincts of his brother and uncle.
The uncle in question took a shaky breath, massaging his face with his hands. "Oh thank goodness," he muttered under his breath, shutting his eyes in relief for a fleeting moment and slumping back against the rock he'd been sleeping against. After he'd had a moment to process what was happening, he sluggishly turned to his backpack, lifting out his canteen and giving it a gentle shake.
"Empty," Donald sighed, disappointment and apprehension oozing out of him like tar. "We need to go and find some more." His voice sounded even sharper and more ragged than usual, making it very difficult to discern exactly what he was saying. The duck dug around his bag for something else, pulling out a small bottle of liquid before standing himself up. "You didn't see any water sources on the way down here, did you?" he whispered hopefully.
“Uh, no.” Dewey said flatly. “But- maybe we could ask around?” He shrugged his shoulders unhelpfully.
”Let’s see… how do we do this again?” He mumbled, recalling the mental communication his brother so effortlessly established. He wasn’t very familiar with the fireflies; in fact, he often forgot they were there when he was especially absorbed in his family matters. Now, as he fumbled haplessly to make a connection, he wished he had tried a little harder to understand what in the world their relationship was supposed to be- lest he soon succumb to a super awkward silence.
As he searched, a brilliant flicker made its presence known- shimmying and twinkling in the corner of his periphery- both mentally and physically. The mind of the firefly, like a burning candle, tapered and wavered with its light, providing an eerie ambiance as it sidled up before the pair.
“Uh, hey.” Dewey waved. “We’re looking for… uh…” The firefly made no signal that it had heard him, hovering motionlessly save for the beating of its wings. Right, wasn’t it that whenever everyone else spoke in their minds, they had to think at each other? He supposed that made sense. Clearing his throat (which he later realized was a rather useless venture) he projected his previous thoughts at the lightning bug.
’Hey- We’re looking for… water?’ He tried, cringing at his uncertainty.
The insect shuddered, mind fluttering like a sheet waving in the breeze as it hung out to try. ’Mmm. Yes, your liquid. Come.’ it beckoned, looping off in the opposite direction- closer to where they’d entered.
'Hang on,' Donald thought incredulously as he placed a hand on Dewey's shoulder. 'How do we know you're not going to hurt us?' While his words were firm and assertive, his fearful stare paired with a shaky grip betrayed his true feelings.
The firefly's lantern flickered in what seemed to be laughter. 'Hurt you- what an idea.' It buzzed closer landing upon the tip of his beak briefly. 'If we had any desire to cause you harm currently, we would have done so already. You are much more useful alive.' It said flatly, turning towards the glittering crystals in Donald's palm and making an obvious show of its apparent magnanimity.
The duck drew his face back as the firefly landed, cringing as if it were singeing his beak. 'R-right...' he relented, although he remained unconvinced, made obvious by the ever-so-slight tightening of his grip on Dewey.
'Lead the way,' he acquiesced.
The creature, apparently amused by the novel idea of scaring hapless ducks, acceded- lifting off in a light brush of air that only slightly grazed the beak of the duck it had made its perch. It beckoned with a flutter, flashing its light like a warning siren as it led to way across the cave, reaching the far end where they had entered.
Dewey squinted. At least, he thought this was the place they had entered. He couldn't be sure, since it was dark and unlike Huey, he didn't have a master's degree in all things boring rocks. Every slab of gray stone looked exactly like the other slabs of gray stone to him, so trying to discern it wasn’t an idea he’d entertained even once.
The slaps of webbed feet against rock returned like miniature thunderclaps, ricocheting off of the gradually narrowing tunnel. 'Um. If you wanna take us back up out of the pit,' Donald began, 'you should know we can't climb like this.' He held up his hand pointedly, gem illuminated with a green aura reflecting from their bioluminescent guide. The faint visage of a limp rope was just visible in the dim light as they approached, dangling lifelessly from the top of the pit.
'Not out,' It continued in an eerie hover past the rope, as grim as if it were witnessing the desolation of the gallows- of which the twine reminiscently swung.
Dewey exchanged a worried glance with his uncle, sidestepping a grisly piece of the rubble that littered the ground. As he approached the opening of the pit, he planted his feet firmly; making the sudden decision to look up, for no particular reason. In the dim glow, the rope above swung like a pendulum- lighter than air and yet heavy as the burden of the family. Dewey could almost imagine the creaking of rough, sinewy twine grating together, like he was back on the houseboat listening to the ties as they strained under the pull of the ship, sending the ghostly echoes of sea-worn wood pegs across the harbor. For a moment, the scent of sea-air caught his nose, wafting away the smell of home. He sighed and continued walking.
A pathetic pang of homesickness emitted from his Uncle Donald. It seemed he was feeling the same way.
'How far are we going?' Dewey asked with a hint of impatience, gesturing to the space around him. 'This is the place we came in, isn't it? What's past this?'
'Not hard to find...' The firefly hinted amusedly, already well past the worn rope. Dewey narrowed his eyes, following its path as the creature meandered forward, its light bouncing off of the walls and guiding them in a halo of green. It was only then that Dewey realized there was something beyond the entrance. A shadowed passage. One that nobody had seen previously. It was almost laughable how much their desperate, exhausted minds had missed in their primal rush- though the tunnel was well concealed by darkness.
'Wait.' Donald suddenly perked up, freezing in his tracks. Nobody said a word. All was still, all was quiet. All except for the faint trickle of moving water somewhere deep within the cave.
'We must be close.' He sounded almost surprised. 'And there really is no trick? Nothing dangerous at the end?' he confirmed, apparently placing a modicum of trust in the insect at their helm.
Dewey made a face, pressing a hand to his uncle’s arm in a comforting pressure. His eyebrows pulled forward in a pleading expression that said ‘Please just let this one be.’ Bleak as it was, the difficult truth was that the rest of the fireflies’ transgressions were out of their hands. The insects had the control, and if they wanted something done, they’d get it done.
’Certainly not.’ The firefly ahead of them scoffed. Its lanterns’ glow raising as the darkness began to fully envelop the cavern- calling for a stronger light.
Donald's gaze softened as it met Dewey's. The intensifying light illuminated both ducks, the younger, pleading face reflecting in the anguished eyes of the older one. It didn't take long for Donald to look away in defeat. His eyes seemed to glaze over slightly as he shook away a number of loose feathers. 'Let's just go,' he murmured, taking Dewey's hand in his own with a comforting squeeze before following the firefly once more. It wasn't clear exactly who he aimed to comfort most.
The warm glow of golden fireflies was too far behind to reach them now, the narrow passage lit only in a vibrant shade of lime. The lilting flow of water grew louder with every step until it was audible without straining to hear it, babbling as softly yet distinctly as the hum of the hivemind itself.
’Here.’ The insect murmured mildly, settling itself upon a tiny outcropping like a living candelabra.
Dewey had never been happier to see water in his life. He felt like he hadn’t had any in days, and he conceivably could have, because he had no idea how long they’d been down there. (Though one couldn’t survive without water very long)
He was so pleased by the crystalline, bubbling flow of the stream that he’d half resolved to throw himself into it, and was already reaching down with cupped hands to bring it to his chapped and burning lips.
'Dewey! No!' came his uncle's cry of apprehension, a hand jutting out quickly to take ahold of his nephew's wrist. 'If you drink it now, you'll get very sick,' he explained, his tone a little gentler.
He released his nephew's arm slowly, lowering himself to the floor and placing his canteen beside him. He removed a small bottle from his pocket, recognizable as the one he'd initially taken from his backpack. 'We need to add this first,' he continued, holding it up so Dewey could see it. 'It makes dirty water drinkable.'
Dewey scrutinized the tiny bottle labeled with a small “Iodine” He grimaced, feeling his throat scream in sharp protest as he swallowed down the sticky mucus that had begun to coat his mouth. He could barely wait with the refreshing temptation of the river babbling teasingly before him. It looked so clean. Surely he didn’t have to do any more to it, right?
'Don't even think about it,' his uncle warned, catching Dewey's thoughtful gaze as it drifted back to the body of water in front of them. 'This won't take too long. Watch.'
He set the bottle of iodine down in front of him before picking up the canteen, filling it with cave water. Next, he unscrewed the iodine, adding a couple of drops to the liquid before capping the canteen and swirling it gently. 'Now we just wait thirty minutes or so,' he announced, placing it in front of Dewey in satisfaction.
“Thirty minutes?!” Dewey lamented aloud. “I don’t think I’ll live that long! Do you see this?” He presented his dry tongue, pulling it out of his mouth like a baby bird with a worm.
“I amf duying.” He said matter-of-factly around his swollen tongue.
"You won't live at all if you won't wait!" Donald responded irritably, their conversation seamlessly slipping back into spoken word. "You're still talking; half an hour won't kill you." He patted his pockets, turning away from Dewey momentarily to focus on the water. He pulled up a sleeve to look at his watch, then scowled. Both hands were frozen in place, stuck around the time they'd first entered the cave. 'Phooey,' he grumbled, folding his arms.
Dewey let out a long series of moans, complaining about how parched he was and how he’d probably contracted a disease of some sort and why wasn’t Donald helping him and did he want his middle nephew to die alone and cold in this cave?
Eventually tiring, he resolved to grumble to himself in a small alcove of the room, laying down uncomfortably across the rocks- which despite having been worn down from a time when the river flowed higher- were still sharp enough to hurt.
After what seemed like an eternity (to both ducks), Donald finally broke his stoic motionlessness. With a sigh, he unfolded his arms, picking up the canteen in his hands and walking over to his lethargic nephew. "The water should be clean by now," he murmured gently, standing over him. "You can drink it."
A sort of feral fervor overtook the small duckling as he snatched the canteen from his uncle’s hands and guzzled it, taking huge gulps of water and not stopping until he absolutely had to breathe.
Dewey gasped at the air just as feverishly as he had the water; then turned his beak downwards in preparation to do it all again.
Plip.
It wasn’t much, barely a drip of water, a splash, but the sound resonated just above the anonymous noises of the babbling brook below them, just barely. Dewey’s head swiveled down to the water, trying to locate the source of the out-of-place noise curiously, his feathers puffing up like a chicken glancing in anticipation at a particularly juicy bug.
Shapes of rounded stones and clay bedding were visible across the dancing surface of the water, shifting and distorting with the gentle downward flow. It was difficult to make out many details, but a flash of white amongst the placid grays was enough tell- and Dewey’s eyes flashed immediately to a flickering shape flowing in and out of vision in the gentle lapping of the current.
For a brief moment, the ripples cleared, and he was greeted with an unblemished view of a rather small fish-like creature about four inches in length. It was a startling white, with smooth, amphibian flesh rather than the anticipated scales decorating its hide. The creature writhed again, causing another small splash as it slithered like a tiny alligator to the cusp of the riverbed, where Dewey’s foot was resting toe deep.
“Awww,” Dewey crooned softly, leaning forward to get a closer look at the aquatic beast. “Look how… cute you are?” He trailed off as his eyes alighted upon the organism. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it wasn’t quite as cute as he’d thought. For one, its skin was remarkably similar to that of human flesh- with an unsettling, translucent pink-tint to match. And for another… the thing had no eyes. Only a smooth, thin layer of skin covered the socket, making it look as though it was never meant to have eyes at all. Dewey lurched back, unsettled.
The thing let out a burbling noise from its wide-open gills, from which he could see the entire fleshy inner-workings of it. Its burbling, he observed with suppressed nerves, sounded strangely like the dying screams of a drowning human-being, and did not fit into the soothing lull of the background noise at all.
In one final motion, the fish wormed its way forward, its smooth, pearlescent skin brushing across Dewey's submerged toe. Its mouth opened and closed like a hungry goldfish; beckoning for a few scraps to be dropped into its tank. Dewey shifted away, but did not completely remove his toe from the water- an act of morbid curiosity.
Donald peered at the freak of nature, grimacing at its grotesque, flesh-like appearance. "Well, it looks harmless," he reasoned, watching the tiny creature nip at the water's surface around Dewey's poised foot. He glanced at the firefly, squinting under its piercing rays. 'What is that thing?'
The firefly tittered, adjusting itself upon its rocky perch. 'Blindfisk.' It said placidly 'In your modern tongue it would mean 'Blindfish.' It seemed amused. 'A suited name, for it cannot see. Nor does it have the need to.'
"Huh," Donald acknowledged, kneeling beside his nephew. 'And what does it eat?' he asked, a curious expression painted over his beak. He reached out timidly, giving the tiny creature a light prod.
It flickered. 'Oh, anything it can sink its teeth into.'
The fish wriggled, sending up a disorienting splash as its undulating mouth fell wide open, revealing a sick, serrated upper lip. In the space of a heartbeat it lunged, rushing forward blankly and sinking its knife-like canines directly into the soft webbing of Dewey's foot- Drawing blood.
'AH!' Dewey yelped, snatching his blooded foot away with a hiss. The fish hadn't caused much damage- it was far too small, but the pain was disproportionate. He winced, observing the runny blood that concealed the worst of the wound. It stung.
"Dewey!" Donald cried out, instantly stepping forward to pull the child from the water's edge. A dark liquid pearl pooled at the tiny piercing, dropping into the water with an innocuous splish which spread into a mist of discoloration under the river's surface.
"I-It bit me!" Dewey blustered, clinging to his uncle and shuffling as far away from the river as possible. The blood bloomed in the water like an inverted mushroom cloud, slowly dissipating and spreading outwards into the liquid. The fish squirmed about; mouth open as it swam through the opaque red. It looked as though it was trying to catch the blood in its mouth- splashing around as though it couldn’t spare a drop. Dewey choked back a gag.
'It is not recommendable to allow it near exposed flesh.' The firefly advised belatedly.
"Well NOW you tell us!" Donald snapped back at it, glowering with barely disguised hostility. His eyes shot back to Dewey's wound, narrowing in concern. "We should really get back to the others," he asserted, turning to look up at his nephew anxiously. "We need to treat this with disinfectant - but for that, we're gonna need some more water, too..." He glanced back at the edge of the river nervously, eyes flicking over the surface of the water as he assessed it.
"Wait right here," he instructed, squeezing Dewey's shoulder reassuringly. He walked over to the edge, picking up the now-empty canteen off the floor; it appeared it had been dropped sometime in the confusion, water spilled in an arc-shaped puddle around it. He flashed a nervous glance at the water before moving a little further upstream, distancing himself from the vampiric fish and the surrounding bloodied water.
Splash.
Another spattering of water rained upon the pair's feathers, making Dewey turn back to the water in confusion. The fish, he surmised dismissively, but as he gazed into the now-clearing ripples, another shape made itself evident.
Bright, out-of-place white flesh flickered wildly in the water. Blank, emotionless eyes would have stared into him if it had any eyes at all, but this new arrival was the same as the last- An amalgamation of fish and amphibian parts; sightless and mirthless. It wriggled forward beside its brethren, vying wildly for the bloodied water with its mouth agape.
"Uh- Uncle Donald...?" Began the cerulean duckling haphazardly. "There-There's another one."
He leveled a finger across the riverbed, shuffling further and further until his back brushed the cave wall.
Donald instantly lifted his head at his nephew's call, shifting his gaze between Dewey and the creatures he was pointing at. He dipped the canteen underwater to refill it. "I'll be ready in just a-!" He gasped suddenly, pulling the canteen up in a flash, eyes drifting down the river. "I'm okay!" he called back, retreating a couple of steps from the body of water. "Just felt something near my finger is all..."
A sliver of white made itself evident amongst the ripples where his hand had been, proving his feeling right. It swirled and stalked amongst the smooth viscosity of the water, its streamlined body making it look like a shimmer across the surface. Now it was evident why they were white.
Just how many were they missing? How many glares of light across the water were actually these...creatures? Dewey focused, counting one, two, three more swirling dangerously in the river. Then more, more and more began to appear, seemingly from nowhere, and soon the river looked like a frothing mess.
The light emanating behind them began to flicker and dim nervously- the firefly supplying it shifting from leg to leg. It cast the cave in brief periods of shadow, making the flashing skin of the fish evident in the near darkness as they congregated and snapped.
"M-Maybe we should head back now," Donald piped up nervously. He cast a quick look at the canteen in his hands, then at the sea of shimmering scales, before starting towards Dewey with a gulp and a quickened pace. At this point, it seemed the river was more full of fish than water, their opalescent scales blinking in the periodic light like hundreds of vicious, gnashing alarms.
The firefly above them twitched, its light continuing to flicker like a lamp running out of oil. 'Yes-' It projected fleetingly, looking- uncharacteristically- as though it was uneasy.
Before the ducks could begin to step away, the frothing water suddenly exploded in an incredible rush. Bursts of white seared across the air as the fish all lunged forwards in horrifying synchroneity- heading straight for Dewey with snapping jaws unhinged.
An incredible flash of brilliant green. The light was so blinding that Dewey couldn't look. A buzzing sound- like hundreds of bees taking flight, and then a rumbling, bone-rattling resonance. The light intensified, a painfully glaring gold; and then everything went dark.