Second Time Migrating, First Time Taking Point

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

“Hold the formation, Harold. Chin up! You’ve got this.”

“Thanks - Frank.” Harold managed.

This was his first time being at the front. It was an exciting, monuments moment in a young goose’s life. But it was also exhausting and slightly terrifying.

“A little left, Harry.”

“Don’t steer from behind, Doris! He’s doing fine.”

“Thanks, mum. Dad.” Harold dutifully tacked a little left and felt a thrill as the rest of the flock seamlessly followed his slipstream.

Right. Keep an eye on the surrounding airspace, make sure we’re not going to intersect with anyone else. And keep following the Lines. Don’t worry about the next rest site, the elders said they’d handle that for now. Just stay on the heading and make sure we don’t bump into anyone.

Simple. Simple.

Way more complicated than just following the goose in front of you, but he was an adult now and could take part in this sacred responsibility.

Scan left… scan right… glance down… check heading… And start all over. Around and around it went, thankfully uneventful. The monotony was its own kind of stress, added to the weight of responsibility.

“Doing great!” Frank was in the first right position, radiating encouragement. And ready to slip into lead position the moment anything happened. Both were reassuring.

“Thanks.”

He was finding the rhythm now. His gaze swivelled in steady rather than frantic motions. The ground below was a rolling panorama, no longer blurred and out of focus as he strained to spot anything closer.

“I - I think I’m getting it. Am, um, am I doing this right?”

A general reassuring chorus fluttered along both wings and he relaxed a smidge more. Keeping up vigilance, of course.

Sarah spoke up from her position on first left. “There’s an airfield coming up in a few miles. It’s normally pretty quiet, but… would you like someone else to take over for that?”

“I, uh…” Harold gulped, his bubbling confidence quenched by the sickening memory of what had happened to poor Uncle Abe. He managed to squeak out “Yes please.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be due spelling by then anyway.” Sarah’s honk was understanding and bracing. Honed by coaching who knew how many youngsters during her sixteen years.

“Oh - yes.” He hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in keeping track of everything around him, but now that he thought about it he was feeling the strain. “Gosh, it really is so much harder taking front!”

“That it is, but you’re doing fine.” His father honked proudly.

Harold’s chest puffed (as best it could, with the exertion and wind pressure) and he redoubled his focus. Intent on keeping this a good first outing.

Prompt was “Write about geese flying south for the winter”

[Yes, this is the same Frank as the potion shop fic. 😄 My mind immediately went to him, being my only established goose character and all, but I decided to make the focus someone else. A first-time story is easier to write.]