My mother looks down on me with concern. I reach my flipper up to my forehead, and examine it. As I scan my flipper, I realize it's covered in blood. Every breath filters me with pain. My torso aches, and my mid-back cramps. I'm the least of my worries now. My mother tolerated the storm with no shelter. "You poor thing! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" She whispers and coughs. "I'm fine, momma, but you look sick. We should find a place to stay, so you can rest." I say. "Thank you, Skipper. There's a vacant igloo over there we can stay in." She says pointing to the snowy shelter.
We start waddling toward it. Look down at the ground for awhile. Suddenly my head aches even more, and everything begins revolving around me. The spinning affects me so much, that I lose my balance, and fall to the ground. Then, everything goes black.
I wake up in a powdery cama of fluffy snow, inside the igloo. My mother sits seguinte to me rubbing my bandaged side. An unfamiliar male pinguim wraps mais bandages on my head. She must have noticed my startled tension. "It's okay, Skipper." She says calmly. "There's nothing mais I can do about his head. Some damages are permanent, but the scrapes and bruises will heal." He explains to my mother like I'm not even here.
"So his skull is in that same position permanently?" She asked
quizzically. "What's wrong with my head?!" I gasp. "Unforunately, yes," He says in his low tone voice, once again,
ignoring me. "I have to go. You should be able to take the bandage of his head in about a month." He says to my mother while heading out the door. "What happened?" I gasp. "During the battle, some of your ribs were broken and part of your skull. flattened." She explained, sighng. "No! No! No!" I cry, as I race infront of a chunk of ice, almost losing my balance again.
Staring back at me is a little penguin, I recongize with a bandage on his head. I unwrap each strand, and reveal something shocking. My beautiful, royal round head is bruised and covered with dry blood. Not only that but flat, too! My
face is scarred and ugly. My left eye is almost swollen shut.
I bury my head in my flippers, and break down in tears. My mother wraps her warm flippers around me comfortingly. "It's
alright," She assures me falsely. "No, it's not!" I wail. "Does it
hurt?" She asks. I shake my head. "Well, no one will recognize you." She says like that will help. "That's part of the reason!" I
moan. "It's for your own safety, Skipper." She sighs, "someday you'll understand."
I slip into cama in silence. "Tomorrow while I'm fishing, you're going to school." She says stroking my head gently. "I don't wanna go!" I moan. "Don't you want to make some friends?" She asked. "No one's gonna like me." I whine. "Of course they will. It's not like home, Skipper. They don't know you're the prince, and they never will. Promise me, you won't tell anyone our secret. It could mean certain death for us both." She explained. "I'm scared," I tremble. "It's going to be okay, as long as no one finds out. but even then, I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise." She whispered as I begin drifting to sleep.
The seguinte morning I wake up befuddled about my surrondings.
Then, I remember what had happened yesterday, and sigh. What a failure I am. Cain and Jezebel are right, along with their followers: I'm no prince. I'm just an outcast with no place in the world. I'm a failure. My own father doesn't want me.
While this was happening, the royal court was holding a meeting, which of course involved Jezebel. "Silence!! It seems I must change my successor to Cain." My father bellows over the voices of advisers, and others of high positions, including the elder. "Yes, you have to!" Jezebel exclaims nearly jumping into the air. "But -" The royal adviser stammers. "But what?!" She yelled at him. "But, the young prince won, meaning he still gets to enherit the throne." He said. "Wait what?" Faher asked annoyed. "Well, um ... the rules are he only had to make it out of the fight. They said nothing
about -" he stutters anxiously, realizing the king is frustrated. "No, this can't be possible!" He shouts, and calms down to think. "What are we going to do?" A woman wonders. "We can't do anything. He still is considered 'worthy' of prince." Another pinguim explains. "We'll just have to kill him. It's the only way. We'll put a high price on his head." My aunt says.
"No, it's no use. It's just a waste of our time." My father persuades them. "But people will wonder, and they'll start talking. Word will get out-" The adviser assumes. "Word won't get out, and if it does ... I don't care if I have to behead all of
you! No one is finding out! Besides, that stupid kid and his mom don't even know he won the battle. We're fine." My father says with a devious grin.
"Not yet," The decieving pinguim sneers. "Oh?" My father asks. "You still have to sign this." She explains rolling out a long document. "It says: 'after your dying breath, Cain shall take over the trono and follow in your footsteps.'"
Father stomped his foot in ink and stamped the document.
We start waddling toward it. Look down at the ground for awhile. Suddenly my head aches even more, and everything begins revolving around me. The spinning affects me so much, that I lose my balance, and fall to the ground. Then, everything goes black.
I wake up in a powdery cama of fluffy snow, inside the igloo. My mother sits seguinte to me rubbing my bandaged side. An unfamiliar male pinguim wraps mais bandages on my head. She must have noticed my startled tension. "It's okay, Skipper." She says calmly. "There's nothing mais I can do about his head. Some damages are permanent, but the scrapes and bruises will heal." He explains to my mother like I'm not even here.
"So his skull is in that same position permanently?" She asked
quizzically. "What's wrong with my head?!" I gasp. "Unforunately, yes," He says in his low tone voice, once again,
ignoring me. "I have to go. You should be able to take the bandage of his head in about a month." He says to my mother while heading out the door. "What happened?" I gasp. "During the battle, some of your ribs were broken and part of your skull. flattened." She explained, sighng. "No! No! No!" I cry, as I race infront of a chunk of ice, almost losing my balance again.
Staring back at me is a little penguin, I recongize with a bandage on his head. I unwrap each strand, and reveal something shocking. My beautiful, royal round head is bruised and covered with dry blood. Not only that but flat, too! My
face is scarred and ugly. My left eye is almost swollen shut.
I bury my head in my flippers, and break down in tears. My mother wraps her warm flippers around me comfortingly. "It's
alright," She assures me falsely. "No, it's not!" I wail. "Does it
hurt?" She asks. I shake my head. "Well, no one will recognize you." She says like that will help. "That's part of the reason!" I
moan. "It's for your own safety, Skipper." She sighs, "someday you'll understand."
I slip into cama in silence. "Tomorrow while I'm fishing, you're going to school." She says stroking my head gently. "I don't wanna go!" I moan. "Don't you want to make some friends?" She asked. "No one's gonna like me." I whine. "Of course they will. It's not like home, Skipper. They don't know you're the prince, and they never will. Promise me, you won't tell anyone our secret. It could mean certain death for us both." She explained. "I'm scared," I tremble. "It's going to be okay, as long as no one finds out. but even then, I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise." She whispered as I begin drifting to sleep.
The seguinte morning I wake up befuddled about my surrondings.
Then, I remember what had happened yesterday, and sigh. What a failure I am. Cain and Jezebel are right, along with their followers: I'm no prince. I'm just an outcast with no place in the world. I'm a failure. My own father doesn't want me.
While this was happening, the royal court was holding a meeting, which of course involved Jezebel. "Silence!! It seems I must change my successor to Cain." My father bellows over the voices of advisers, and others of high positions, including the elder. "Yes, you have to!" Jezebel exclaims nearly jumping into the air. "But -" The royal adviser stammers. "But what?!" She yelled at him. "But, the young prince won, meaning he still gets to enherit the throne." He said. "Wait what?" Faher asked annoyed. "Well, um ... the rules are he only had to make it out of the fight. They said nothing
about -" he stutters anxiously, realizing the king is frustrated. "No, this can't be possible!" He shouts, and calms down to think. "What are we going to do?" A woman wonders. "We can't do anything. He still is considered 'worthy' of prince." Another pinguim explains. "We'll just have to kill him. It's the only way. We'll put a high price on his head." My aunt says.
"No, it's no use. It's just a waste of our time." My father persuades them. "But people will wonder, and they'll start talking. Word will get out-" The adviser assumes. "Word won't get out, and if it does ... I don't care if I have to behead all of
you! No one is finding out! Besides, that stupid kid and his mom don't even know he won the battle. We're fine." My father says with a devious grin.
"Not yet," The decieving pinguim sneers. "Oh?" My father asks. "You still have to sign this." She explains rolling out a long document. "It says: 'after your dying breath, Cain shall take over the trono and follow in your footsteps.'"
Father stomped his foot in ink and stamped the document.
