“Do they really think you’re their mama?”
She stared at the small flock of geese. There were still goslings, in a way, but they no longer looked like anything but full grown, feathers puffed, beaks out to get ya in the soft parts geese.
“They’re quite tame,” Luke chuckled at her wariness.
“Tell that to the bruise that this one over there left on me the other day.”
Luke’s chuckle turned full throttle laughter. “Miles was just trying to establish a pecking order. He’s fairly low ranking and you could’ve showed him his place. Instead, you freaked and he showed you his. It’s normal goose behavior.”
“Normal for you, perhaps. I’m a human. Not a goose mama.”
Luke patted one of the geese in what Darla swore was just a showing off. “Also, they are a little antsy,” he conceded. “It’s going to be their first real flight.”
Darla nodded, unconvinced. She was already regretting her agreement to take care of any stragglers. Luke was going to fly the flock — or any of the flock who were capable — through the whole migration route. Darla was to help with those who lagged behind or proved too weak. Luke already had two in mind that he believed would end up among them, including, of course, Miles de Munch.
She wasn’t sure how she got roped into agreeing. There was, of course, Luke’s contagious enthusiasm. And his charm.
Darla sighed. She’d bail out if it weren’t for the fact that they were due to leave tomorrow and there was no way Luke would have time to find a substitute goose-sitter.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Luke’s face lit up in a manner very much like the excitement that had led her to agree to shepherd biting geese in the first place. “We’re going on one last practice fly today. Wanna come?”