On Dark Wings

>>>>>[ Chapter 8: "Remorse"

"Binkie said I'd find you here."

Honker – alone in the little known "Water Room" in St. Canard Falls – diverted his attention to the door. Gosalyn stood there peering from behind a curtain of falling water and smiling brightly. Honker smiled weakly in return.

"Hi, Gosalyn."

Gosalyn walked in through the doorway – an intentionally designed part in the rushing falls that comprised 3 walls of the room. A project designed by St. Canard's Public Works, the rear wall of the Water Room was a specially designed waterfall which cascaded over various large gears, and broken clockworks arranged into abstract patterns until falling into a large reflecting pool.

Honker himself was in the seating area – a series of rocks cut so as to have flattened tops spaced neatly but irregularly atop granite floors. A strategic mix of red, blue, and green Tungsten lights worked hand-in-hand in the room with ultra-violet lamps – highlighting an array of impurities in the stones and accenting the otherwise dull materials.

Gosalyn had never been here before, and was carefully taking it all in as she entered.

"I heard you're taking Tank's situation pretty hard."

Honker shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Uhm… yeah. It's… It's difficult."

"Feh." Gosalyn mocked. "It's what happens when rivalries get taken too seriously." Gosalyn took a moment, placing her pack carefully on the ground as she sat – sharing a stone with Honker.

Honker – sensing her warmth, and the softness of her feathers – felt his pulse pick up a bit. His mind spun. As Gosalyn continued speaking to him he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath – inhaling her scent. He was not going to let panic set in.

"Coach Bison reported an incident in the locker room before the game. Tank took the whole 'M&M' thing a bit too far – basically took a shot at Three's manhood. Cut him pretty deep from the sound of it. Even in St. Canard, we all know Three's reputation – never-mind that he's from one of the most notorious crime families to ever grace Duckburg or St. Canard.

"And this doesn't even cover the fact that he should have known One, and Two would join in the fray if anything went south. The three of them are inseparable."

Honker cast his eyes downwards – his expression pained. "Yeah … He didn't ..." Honker sighed. "He didn't think of that I guess." Honker looked Gosalyn in the eye, suddenly blurting excitedly. "But he didn't! He …"

Gosalyn interrupted. "He didn't deserve it. We all know that. But his injuries weren't serious – he'll be back in action in no time. And thanks to a little help from Quiverwing, Three and his brothers – for the time being – are enjoying a 30 day siesta in Hacienda Juvie. All compliments of the state of Calisota."

Honker watched as Gosalyn stood up, and stretched. Today was one of the rare days she wore her trademark purple sports jersey – except now it hugged snugly against her form, revealing every delicate curve as it flowed down over a pair of black, straight-legged lo-riders. A sturdy pair of black boots – a pair she wore specifically while riding – completed the ensemble.

As he admired her, Honker – somehow – felt renewed. "Gosalyn? I … I want you to know that I …" he paused.

Gosalyn picked up her pack. "Yes, Honker?"

"Thank you. I … I …" Honker's eyes dropped as his resolve broke before flickering back to meet with Gosalyn's. "I wanted to say Thank you." Honker looked around – insuring no-one was there to overhear. "I'm glad Quiverwing was there to help out. Thanks."