Mogey and Smush stood together on the highest branch of the tallest tree on the most precarious cliff of the most whimsical mountain in all the Hoemonthaw Range. The wind rushed upward across the rock faces, blowing Mogey and Smush's hair back nearly past their jowls.
"Today," Smush announced, "we fly!"
"But how?" Mogey inquired.
"All our days we've lived earthbound, but dreamt of the skies. Today that all changes!"
"Oh we've dreamt alright. Dreamt galore. Oftentimes you'll stumble into my chambers in your nightclothes, muttering about how you dreamt of flying. And then I'll be like 'No way! I dreamt about flying too!' But again I ask: how?"
Smush reached a hand out into the void. "It's all about reading The Wind," he said dreamily, "and confidence."
"I am no aeronaut," Mogey replied, "but I'm quite certain that's not accurate."
"No, it is," called their guide, Mitch Floatley, from the hot air balloon that hovered nearby. The ballooner stared through a pair of leather aviation goggles and gave them an unmistakable "get on with it" gesture.
"It's time," Smush exclaimed, and he leapt from the limb.
"NO!" Mogey shouted as his pal plummeted earthward from their impossible height. "I can't believe it. He's gone!"
"Hmph," mumbled Mitch Floatley, looking vaguely disappointed.
Suddenly Smush reappeared, balancing awkwardly upon the back of a very put-out looking buzzard.
"What'd I tell you!" Smush shouted gleefully. "It's all about reading The Wind. Meet Bertie 'The Wind' Buckley, the world's only boxing condor. He's a mediocre boxer, but his wingspan is upwards of 10 feet!"
"Reading my flight pattern might've helped you land on my back," panted Buckley, "but it's because of your doggone confidence that I allow you to stay."
"That's right!" Smush agreed. "I believed in myself. And more importantly, I believed in you, The Wind."
Despite looking exhausted from the effort of carrying Smush, Bertie "The Wind" Buckley gave a very un-condor-like purr of delight.
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