| Where there's a Weewoo, there's a way |
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Issue: 1000 | 26th day of Sleeping, Y26 |
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"A Weewoo's Journey" by emma_manatee
The Weewoo was white, his feathers standing out like a pile of snow in the sand of Krawk Island. All the other chicks in the brood were various shades of brown. It wasn’t just his feathers that made the Weewoo stand out from his siblings. He wasn’t content to lounge around the island, letting out the haunting cry in the night that gave the Weewoos their name. He spent his nights staring at the midnight sea and pinpricks of light in the sky, wondering what else was out there. He knew there was no way to find out. Weewoos could fly, but not far; without even a glimpse of land, he doubted he would be able to make it to even another island. He wanted to explore the world and report on everything he found, and he never thought it would be possible – not until the storm. Krawk Island was no stranger to a rough storm. The summer months were full of them, ranging from a downpour that ended in a minute to nights of strong winds battering the houses and ripping up the palm trees. This storm was unlike any other. The wind howled louder than a Werelupe, picking up the sand and clouding the vision of anyone who dared to go outside. The ships in the harbour succumbed to the waves, pirate flags that used to fly proudly tattered and sinking. The low beaches had already started to be engulfed, creating a new shoreline. The Weewoo hadn’t planned on being out in the storm – who would plan to be in the deadliest storm in the known history of Krawk Island?
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