The morning arrived, sweeping petite white flakes to the snowy tundra. I peak out from under the sheets of snow and I rush into my parents' room as rapidly as my legs can take me. The cama is half vacant, my mother lays asleep por herself.
I climb my way up, grasping the covers. With all the strength I can muster up, I get on topo, início of her shoulder. I start poking her cheek to wake her up.
"Momma, wake up!" I yell, atuação as an alarm clock, but she continuously snores. I groan and cruz my flippers across my chest.
In a matter of minutes, I lose all interest, and hop down it the bed. To my suprise it turns out to be very bouncy. I bound up and down on the bed, which unintentionally wakes mother up. "Good morning, Skipper," she groans. "Where's daddy?" I question. She responds, "he'll be back before dinner."
Later in the day, we go outside, so she can fish. While she does that, I wait with the rookery's hatchlingsitter. As mom heads off she tells me to "Be careful", but for me, that is extremely challenging. All eyes fixate on me. Penguins glare as icly as the glaciers and others daze at me blankly, as if expecting something. In return I share the bewildered gaze. There in the colony, I learn not everyone looks upon me as the rightful prince.
A few girls my age giggle and point at me, and some boys race past me calling out insults, sometimes taking the time to slap the back of my head. But something soon crosses the line. "All hail the prince of the weaklings! What a mighty ruler!" One taunts. I face him, my fist clenched in fury. "Shut up!" I cry. "Oh, is the failure going to make me? Come on, try you, little coward!" He jeers.
My mind becomes a battlefield. Half tells me to fight the other says just the opposite. I start panicking. It's not like I've ever fought before! A pile of snowballs sits behind me, but it's not only snowballs. An icicle with a point as keen as a swordfish, sits buried underneath a colina of nuvem white snow. My eyes meet the lethal object and I seize it. How can a piercing weapon possibly help me now?! In frustation I toss it behind me.
The bully lets out a aleatório scream and rushes away holding his foot. What? Penguins here are so unpredictable. This place is extremely weird. Maybe, I'm the weird one. Nah, that can't be it. Everyone likes me so far. A few years pass and every morning it is the same schedule and routine, but the teasing for fun turns to acts of hatred and intimidation.
"Hey, cousin! Or should I call you your majesty?" A brawny penguin, a couple of years older, jogs up. Female penguins flock around him, admiring his glossy feathers of what seems perfection. They rub his muscular shoulders. "Okay, ladies, I need a little time alone." He whispers, not even taking time to look at or egknowledge them. One por one, they strut away spewing glares my way and mouthing out sentences like: "Cain's the real prince." or "I hope you die, so Cain will rule.", and "Cain is ten times the prince you are,".
Just his presence alone gives me a tingling unsafe feeling. It's a sixth sense. "I beg your pardon, about them, but what can I say? They love me. Let me introduce myself. I'm Cain," He contuines. "I'm -" I sheepishly start, but he cuts me off. "I already know, Skipper."
"But how?" I ponder. "Everybody knows you ..... you're the prince, I guess." He sighs. "Yeah, but what were they talking about? 'Cain's the real prince'?" I question. He chuckles shaking his head, cocking it back. "Shall we walk and I'll explain?" He asks and I nod. So, we start our walk and he begins. "You see, a couple of years ago, my father was king. During the invasion of the southern colony, he was murdered. I was seguinte in line, but your father was given the throne.
"Oh, wow, that's just ..... terrible." I say in pity. "Yeah, but my mother tells be that I'm the rightful king," he contuines after a brief silence "but one she promises I'll be king." He says staring boldly at his reflection in a chunk of ice.
My mother waddles up and is startled when she sees Cain turn around to reveal his face. "Cain?! Come on, Skipper, we need to leave!" She seizes my flipper. "But, mama, I wanna talk to Cain some more!" I beg. "You know, he's going to find out sooner or later it's just a matter of time. We all know that Cain is the rightful king. At least he's mais fit for the job than your son will ever be!" A female says. "Jezebel, you rat! Don't you ever say those words, especially right in front of my son! You know as well as I do that my husband was first in line and now Skipper is! You and your deceiving son must have some nerve trying to fill his innonce, naive brain with your wrong propaganda!" She snaps back.
As we head home, Jezebel snarls at us more, "Well, that 'propaganda' is the truth!"
"Don't listen to her ..... actually, neither of them." She says trying to comfort me and picks me up. "But why would Aunt Jezebel say that then?" I wonder innoncently. "Some penguins will do anything for wealth and poplicity. Unforunately, your aunt is one of them, and soon Cain will inherit that from her. It's not seguro to be around him, and I don't want to lose you, Skipper. Please, stay away from him." She explains. "I promise, if you're happy, mommy." I vow. "You're a good boy, Skipper. I amor you." She says pecking my cheek.
The years pass by, as I grow. The night before my certain doom creeps up and startles me like a thief prowling in the dusk. It is the last night I am the innocent age of four. Tomorrow will be the dia I turn five, the dia I battle a blood lusting ....... seal.