It turned out that Sir Tiddlewick's idea of "a journey of peril and grandeur" meant traveling approximately thirty meters into the forest, at the pace of a particularly thoughtful caterpillar.
"This path," he said gravely, pointing to a dirt trail barely visible between two fern bushes, "has not been walked by two-legged folk in at least... seven moons."
The witch muttered, "I planted that moss two weeks ago."
I flew just above his head, occasionally gliding in slow loops to avoid crashing into leaves. The air was fresh and damp with the smell of morning dew and disturbed soil. Somewhere nearby, a frog croaked lazily, unimpressed by our grand expedition.
Tiddlewick pressed forward with purpose, his leafy cloak trailing behind him like a wedding veil caught in a breeze.
"The Golden Acorn," he said in a hushed voice, "is no ordinary nut. It was gifted to my people by the First Tree, a symbol of peace, unity, and delicious emergency calories."
I chirped a question. "What happened to it?"
He stopped suddenly, placed a paw over his heart, and looked skyward. "A tragedy. It was entrusted to our youngest keeper. One moment, nestled in the ceremonial root bowl. The next... gone. Stolen, hidden, or most likely... nudged off the edge of the stump and into oblivion."
"Oblivion" turned out to be a shallow ravine no deeper than the witch's rain barrel. We peered over the edge.
There it was, nestled at the base of a hollow log, gleaming faintly gold in the filtered light. Just sitting there.
"Behold!" Tiddlewick cried. "The sacred relic!"
The witch crouched beside the ravine. "You want me to just reach down and grab it?"
He gasped. "Are you mad? That log has housed snakes! Beetles! Possibly... ants!"
I landed on the edge and peered down. There were, in fact, a few ants.
The witch rolled her eyes and stepped back. "I'll let you handle this one."
I hopped forward, wings spread slightly for balance, and glided down into the hollow. The ground was soft and spongy beneath my claws. I circled the acorn.
It was… shiny. Definitely not magical. Someone had dipped it in tree sap and dusted it with mica flakes. It sparkled like a stage prop under forest light.
And yet, it was oddly charming.
I nudged it gently with my beak, then managed to grip it and hop out of the log, wings fluttering as I gained altitude.
When I returned to the path and dropped the acorn in front of Tiddlewick, he gasped, then fell to his knees (or knees-adjacent).
"Glory!" he cried. "Balance is restored!"
He scooped it up, cradling it with such reverence I half-expected a choir of squirrels to emerge from the trees and begin chanting.
The witch clapped slowly. "Congratulations. The realm is saved. Again."
Tiddlewick stood tall. "You mock me, featherless enchantress, but you have aided in a deed of ancient weight."
"I'm going to write 'retrieved fake acorn from a mossy log' in my grimoire," she said dryly.
I chirped once, a sound between laughter and agreement.
Tiddlewick turned to me, solemn once more.
"And you," he said, placing a paw over his heart. "Brave flier. Whisperer of wind. Feathered Witness of the Circle, you have earned a title among the grove."
I tilted my head, curious.
"From this day forth, you shall be known as…" He paused, clearly building suspense. "Sky-Scout of the South Tree!"
I chirped dramatically, then performed a loop for flair.
The witch smirked. "We'll need to get you a sash."
We began the short walk back, Tiddlewick carrying the acorn as if it were the Crown of the Forest. The trees seemed brighter now, the birds chirped louder, and even the air felt a little lighter.
Not because of magic. Not because anything truly important had happened.
We just had a bit of fun is all.