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The Mythology of Beardsgaard ~ III ~ The Making of Rodensia ~ .iv


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≈ III ≈

iv. The Making Of Rodensia

And at last he came to the valley between the mountains where the rainbow beamed over the tall peaks, and what had for so long seemed to be the end of his quest, the temple. But there was nothing there but rock and water, the temple little more than an angular formation of rock. He had been wrong. Kevin’s little heart sank. But only for a moment.

In an instant, the ground began to fall away and he felt a tightening around his belly. And so Kevin found himself wrested in the talons of an eagle, soaring higher and higher toward the rainbow. Kevin was a brave little gerbil, but the prospect of becoming lunch is enough to banish bravery from any creature.

So, as they rose above the rainbow, not in bravery, but instinct of gerbils long ago that the rodents of the tree had near forgotten, Kevin wiggled himself about and bit down hard.

The eagle screamed and dropped him, and Kevin knew his quest had been in vain. This was to be his end, dashed on the rocks below. But as he fell through the rainbow, something happened. His fall halted and he found himself resting on a cushion of wind. In disbelief, Kevin turned his eyes behind him to see a rainbow fluttering.

Kevin had wings. Rainbow, gossamer wings.

>For the first time in the history of the world, a gerbil could fly.

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