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It was the most frustrating way he’d ever gotten injured. After countless adventures, near-death experiences, and saving the world multiple times, the last thing Huey expected to injure him was a fall from a tree.
The triplets plus Webby were building a treehouse in the backyard of McDuck Manor. They didn’t tell Uncle Donald or Della on purpose, if only because they didn’t trust Dewey with a hammer—not that he was doing much work anyway.
Huey and Webby had already built the base, with Huey reading directions from the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook and Webby ignoring them in order to improvise. Louie was lazing under the tree, giving pointers every now and then but otherwise soaking up the sun. Dewey had climbed to the highest point he could, trying (and failing) to be showered with praise and attention.
“Why are we doing this again when we could just have Uncle Scrooge buy us a treehouse?” Louie asks, gesturing above him with the hand not holding his phone.
“You really think Uncle Scrooge would buy us anything?” Huey responds and raises his voice to be heard.
“He’s got a point,” Louie says, grunting as he pulls himself up on a higher branch.
“Oh c’mon,” Webby grins. “Isn’t it fun to do something for yourself all by yourself!”
“We’re not by ourselves though,” Dewey says, straining for a higher branch.
Webby frowns and looks around, taking in the triplets and herself. “Oh yeah,” she mutters. “Okay, then think of all the memories you’re making with your best friends!” She recovers.
“Eh,” Louie replies, feigning indifference, but Huey knows he secretly agrees. It was nice to all work towards a common goal without the threat of impending doom.
That’s just one of the things Huey likes so much about being a junior woodchuck—clear instructions, collaborating with friends, and having a new badge to show for it at the end of the day. There was never any peril, just good-hearted family fun.
Huey would be lying if he said he didn’t miss when the three of them had been junior woodchucks together. He loves being a triplet and spending time with his family and he missed Dewey and Louie dearly when they quit. Their hobbies lay elsewhere though, and Huey would never blame his brothers for that.
Huey hears Dewy let out a shout as his foot slips. “Careful!” Huey cries and stands on his tiptoes to try and see where Dewey had disappeared to within the leaves. He seems to have caught himself, sending a thumbs up and a big smile to the small crowd below.
“I don’t know the meaning of the word!” Dewey responds, reaching for another branch and pulling himself up impossibly higher up the tree.
Huey frowns and wrings his hands together. “Junior Woodchuck Guide rule number eighty-four,” he starts. “Safety doesn’t happen by accident!”
“Good thing he’s not a junior woodchuck then,” Louie’s voice carries from below.
Huey huffs in frustration as Dewey disappears from his line of sight. “Dewey!”
“ Dew not worry dear brother,” Dewey replies.
“I’m already worried,” Huey reaches for the branch above him and starts making his way up. “You’re at least five feet higher than the appropriate height for tree climbing!”
Louie snorts. “Who said that? You’re dumb book?”
“Not helping!” Huey snaps, pulling himself up a branch higher. He doesn’t see Louie shrug, but he can feel it; probably through some weird triplett thalapathy.
“Oh relax,” Dewey says, and Huey can finally see the blue of his shirt among the leaves. Huey stands on the toes of his webbed feet to grab the branch above him, balancing precariously.
“No one ever got hurt climbing a—uh oh,”
Huey’s feet slip forward. He tries to regain his stability but only ends up helplessly flailing in his arms in search of something to grab onto. Then he’s hurtling face first to the ground, branches hitting him in the face. It feels like his insides are all messed up, climbing from his stomach to his throat. and the world whizzing past him in a blur of color and sounds as if he’s in the middle of one of Launchpad’s crashes.
Huey hits the earth hard . The wind is knocked out of him and he can’t breathe for an agonizing moment. Finally, he sucks in a desperate gasp of air and that’s when he feels the pain . It’s a sharp burning kind of pain spreading from his insides out; from his fingers to his elbow. He thinks he screams, but his ears are ringing and it’s hard to tell.
The world above him is spinning, a watercolor of greens and blues. Slowly, his eyes adjust to find Dewey haphazardly scaling down the tree, Louie leaning over him anxiously, and Webby running over.
“Huey!” Louie screams, panic written all across his features. His hands are hovering in the air as if afraid to touch and despite the pain Huey wants to comfort his younger brother. He wants to say something like I’m okay or don’t worry but his brain hasn’t seemed to catch up with his mouth yet.
“Ow,” Huey sobs instead, only causing Louie to panic more.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Louie says, chest heaving as he starts to hyperventilate. Huey hiccups, blinking hard to try and erase the spots in front of his vision.
Webby swims into his line of sight, looking frazzled. “How many fingers am I holding up?” She yells, shoving her hand in Huey’s face before continuing without allowing Huey to answer. “Which year did Scrooge find the Mesopotamian sky chariot? What spell can turn flowers into candy?”
“Webby!” Dewey cries. He must have made it down the tree because he shoves her out of the way and gets into his face. “You can’t ask that! You need to ask him something he knows! Like, how to tie a reef knot or the first element on the periodic table!”
“It’s hydrogen,” Huey groans, but can’t be heard over their squabbling.
“How did Scrooge defeat the Miniature?”
“What do you do if a brown bear attacks?”
“Guys,” Louie screams, wildly flailing his arms. “These questions aren’t getting us anywhere!” Then he turns to Huey and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Who's your favorite brother? It’s okay, you can be honest.”
Huey recognizes these questions—or at least, what the questions are supposed to be—from the concussion section of the junior woodchuck guidebook. He tries to push himself up, only for his hurt arm to fail him. He can’t move it at all. It burns but Huey can’t feel it at the same time, which makes no sense and it’s driving him a little crazy. He hates not understanding things, especially when it comes to himself.
“Ow,” Huey says again, hating himself for the sobs that are clearly making his siblings scared and nervous but he can’t stop.
“No, no, no, don’t cry,” Dewey says, tears pooling in his own eyes.
“Guys,” Webby starts, flapping her arms anxiously and fluffing up her feathers. “I think we really need an adult this time”
“Donald,” Huey manages to mutter through his gasping sobs. “Get Uncle Donald.”
“Okay,” Webby responds and runs off, leaving the triplets behind. Huey desperately tries to blink the tears out of his eyes and fails. He turns his head to the side but Louie is shoving his beak in his face for the umpteenth time.
“Uh, you don’t need to see, your arm is definitely not super gross looking,” Louie says, complete with an awkward smile, wide eyes, and all. Dewey leans over and shoves Louie hard, enough to make him teeter out of Huey’s sight.
“ Ugh ,” Huey groans around a sob, trying to see around his brother and failing. His chest starts heaving in time with his labored breathing and no matter how hard he tries Huey can’t make his arm move.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dewey starts repeating, his voice continuing to rise in pitch until he barely sounds like himself anymore. He looks like he wants to cry but is holding it in. Huey keeps trying to push himself up to see the damage but his panicking brother keeps putting himself in his way.
“Stop freaking out,” Louie snaps at Dewey.
“But his arm!” Dewey responds, and yeah, he’s definitely crying now.
“It’s already broken,” Louie hisses. Huey thinks he’s trying to be quiet, but he’s never been too good at that. Huey can hear every harsh whisper that comes out of his brother's mouth. “There’s nothing we can do about it now!”
Huey’s eyes bulge. With his brothers distracted he finally manages to catch a glimpse of his arm and it’s not a pretty sight. There are tiny scratches from the branches hitting him on the way down, but what really makes Huey panic is the strange angle his arm is lying at, already turning a bright, swollen red.
And yeah, that doesn’t help Huey calm down at all . He knows he can breathe but his chest feels tight, like something is squeezing his lungs and making it impossible to suck in air. The pain is all-consuming, making his head buzz with uncontrollable anxiety. He gags and thinks he might throw up.
Louie waves his hands in front of Huey’s face and snaps his fingers, effectively getting his attention. “Hue, hue, pay attention to me. Can you do that?” Huey nods, trying to focus on his youngest brother and not the pain pulsing through his body.
“What’s the uh, the forty-second junior woodchuck guidebook rule?” Louie asks. A distraction. Quick thinking from the kid who knows all his angles.
Huey swallows thickly and racks his brain. “Build things right the first time and they won’t need modification.” He quotes.
“Good…I think,” Louie responds, eyebrows furrowed with worry. “I’ve never actually read the book. What about rule seven hundred and uh, twenty-seven?”
“Sometimes the bravest thing a hero can do is walk away,”
“Rule number three?”
“No matter how hard things get, never give up on a fellow woodchuck.” Huey starts to breathe easy again. Things don’t feel so dire anymore.
“Better?” Louie asks and Huey nods. The pain is still there, but instead of panicking, Huey just feels frustrated with himself.
Louie smiles at him in pride. “Who knew being a nerd could be so helpful?” Dewey asks.
“I did,” Huey says, rolling his eyes despite himself. For all he preaches about being careful, of course, he would be the one to fall and break his arm. Then again, better him than one of his siblings. Huey hates seeing his family get hurt.
“Huey!” Speaking of family, Uncle Donald is being tugged by Webby up to the three of them. Huey can’t help but feel relief. As much as he loves his brothers, they’re not much help at the moment.
“Oh Huey,” Uncle Donald says, leaning down next to the oldest triplet. His dark eyes are blown wide and his feathers are ruffled. “What happened?”
“I was climbing-”
“We just wanted to-”
“It wasn’t even my fault this-”
Donald starts sputtering, trying his best to remain cool-headed as the children around him all start squawking at the same time. “One at a time!” He yells, Huey knows he’s not really mad, only worried—that’s just how Uncle Donald shows his concern.
“I fell from the tree,” Huey explains rather lamely once everyone has calmed down.
Donald takes in the scene around him, the tree above him that has the beginnings of a treehouse and the lawn scattered with tools and pieces of wood. Then he turns back to Huey, his eyes squinted.
“Oh boy,” Donald groans and runs a hand down his face. “Why didn’t you boys ask for help in the first place!” He asks, but it’s more of a scream than anything else.
Huey shrugs—or at least he tries to. Instead, it causes him to wince, face screwing up in pain. Donald sighs, shaking his head. “Alright,” Donald says, sounding tired.
He carefully helps Huey sit up, cautious of his hurt arm. Huey lets his Uncle all but lift him and place him back on his wobbling feet. “You’re due for a trip to the doctor anyways.”
They start waddling away, but before they make it to the car Uncle Donald turns around and yells “And no more using hammers unsupervised!” Huey gives his brothers and Webby an awkward smile and a wave with his good hand before disappearing around the corner.
———
Huey gets a red cast that Uncle Donald signs before they even leave the emergency room. They stop for ice cream too and Huey’s pretty sure it’s just because Uncle Donald feels bad about the whole situation but he isn’t complaining.
When Huey pushes open the front door to the manor he’s met with the three smiling faces of his siblings holding up a banner that says get well soon . It’s a shoddy job—Heuy has come to learn to not expect too much from the others in terms of party planning, but it fills his heart with love nonetheless. There are random drawings of diamonds, gold coins, rainbows, unicorns, and robots.
“Welcome home,” The three of them cheer, and then all drop the banner to circle Huey.
“How’s your arm? Do X-rays use real rays or is that a lie? Can I sign your cast first?” Dewey fires off question after question.
“Ooh, is that a fiberglass cast?” Webby shoves her face up to Huey’s cast.
“Do you think we can sue Uncle Scrooge? After all, it was his tree and his backyard.” Louie says.
Huey smiles sheepishly, feeling a little overwhelmed. Luckily Uncle Donald is there, who puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and levels a glare at the group. Everyone immediately falls silent.
“Kids,” Mrs. Beakly says, making her presence known. “Why don’t you go wash up before supper.”
Everyone agrees, albeit with more than a little complaining. Then the housekeeper slash super spy approaches Huey, a hint of mischief in her eyes. She pulls out a sharpie and offers it up to Huey, who smiles in response and offers up his casted arm.
After dinner, showers, and brushing their teeth, the triplets find themselves piled together on the bottom bunk. Louie likes to say they’re all too old for cuddling but it’s no secret they thrive off physical affection, especially with each other.
Huey is in the middle, sandwiched between his two brothers, feeling safe and secure. It reminds him of back when they all lived on Uncle Donald’s houseboat, with little room to spread out. It’s nostalgic in a way Huey didn’t even realize he missed. He’s more than a little tired from the long day–and even though he won’t voice it out loud and make his worried brothers–he is in pain.
Dewey is scribbling on his cast, a collection of small stars and clouds. It’s a nice distraction, watching him work and his tongue is poking out from his beak in concentration. Dewey was mad at first that the blue wouldn’t show up on the cast but settled for the black Sharpie instead. Uncle Scrooge had already signed it, complete with a dollar sign for the S and all.
Dewey heaves a heavy sigh and caps the marker. “Sorry I broke your arm,” he says. Huey’s eyes go wide.
“You didn’t break my arm!” He quacks.
“But I did,” Dewey fires back. “You were telling me to be careful and I didn’t listen so you tried to stop me and fell.”
Huey isn’t sure how to respond other than to shake his head. Dewey looks so guilty, not making eye contact and fiddling with his feathers. “You didn’t make me climb up the tree,” Huey protests. “And I was already up there anyway.”
“Yeah but we were closer to the ground until you started chasing me,” Dewey responds, voice small. “And now you can’t even go on any adventures for like, three months!”
“Oh please,” Huey huffs. “I know safety is my middle name but nothing's gonna stop me from adventuring with you guys.”
“ Or ,” Louie was quick to cut in. “We can always take a break. Have a movie night, some good old family bonding, ya know, not constantly fearing for our lives.”
Dewey and Huey openly stare at Louie before laughing. The youngest triplet lets out a sigh and leans heavier on Huey. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Louie responds, waving a hand back and forth. “We all deserve more than a couple of days off though.”
Huey sighs too, examining the signatures and doodles on his cast. “Maybe a day or two,” he admits, much to Louie’s surprise.
They lapse into silence after that, Dewey playing a game on his phone and Louie watching a YouTube video. They’re already in their pajamas so it’s no surprise that Heuy starts struggling to keep his eyes open. No one protests when he starts falling asleep, leaning heavier and heavier on his brothers, his breath slowly evening out.
It won’t be long until Huey is fully down for the count so he forces his eyes open and snuggles closer to Dewey. “It really isn’t your fault,” he mumbles.
Before Dewey can get in a word of protest, Louie is already speaking up. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s gravity’s fault.” It’s not the best joke, but everyone is tired and worn out from the long day so they all chuckle in response.
Then Huey crawls to the top of the bed and gets himself comfortable under the covers. Dewey and Louie follow his lead, the three ducklings cuddling up and quickly falling fast asleep like they used to when they were younger. Their dreams are filled with great adventures, caring uncles, tree houses, and warm hugs.