As Bronk and Peter approached the flock of geese, they were greeted with a chorus of honks and holle

As Bronk and Peter approached the flock of geese, they were greeted with a chorus of honks and hollering. The lead goose banked towards them, cutting easily through the high winds that Peter dared not attempt alone.
“Oi there friend!” The lead goose cried, piercing the air. “Looking for a flock to join? Ain’t too many of us, but the winds are still that much easier to–”
The goose did a double-take, nearly wing-slapping his rear compatriot. “Bronk!? Is that you, brother?!”
Bronk laughed, and all the other geese joined in as they moved closer. Peter quickly saw that their family colors matched those of his friend’s–rich maroon; brilliant orange. Well, all except the rakish red of their business gear.
“You always were the perceptive one, Tronk!” Bronk hollered back.
Tronk ululated with delight. “Well I’ll be plucked! I thought you’d given up migration, what with the songbird business plans!”
“Oh, they’re going strong–cargo is a booming field back in the mountains of Remex! In fact, let me introduce you to the genius who came up with the idea…”
—
Old friends, new joys
New songs in an old voice
Black ink, color bright
Tales by day and songs by night–

Oh, come with me to those Remex places,
And hear the myths of her feathered races.

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