They day had been long. Eight hours of driving had brought them to a river, which on the other side held their destination. Two great pines had cleaved the bridge in two.

“Well, let’s stop here and have a look around,” said Yuto. So they stopped where they were, halfway down a road, paved with micro-glacial lumps of ice, and had a look around.

Yuto looked under a log, where a two-headed centipede started into a writhing dance like the expose to sunlight had cooked its motor control system.

Koto found some trash by the exposed root of a tree. It said, “Well-wishers be warned! There –” on the label. The packaging then showed someone flicking a coin into a deep column of water. Koto wasn’t sure what the product was for.

“I found a two-headed centipede,” said Yuto. He presented the squirming hundred-legged rope to Koto.

“I found some packaging and I don’t know what it was for,” said Koto who put the centipede gently inside the trash and the entire parcel back on the floor.

An alarm sang out, loud enough to send fifty birds flip-flapping into the sky.

“Let me get that,” and Koto pushed a button on his wrist and the alarm stopped.

“Those birds must have evolved some effective camouflage abilities, I didn’t see them when we pulled up,” said Yuto, watching the flock self-assemble and then undulate away.

“Hello, this is Gordon,” said Koto. He hadn’t recognized the caller and so he adopted the cautious route of changing his name. It was the classic illusionist diversion tactic.

“Koto, I know it’s you,” came the voice from Koto’s wrist. It sounded like someone had captured the sound inside a sheet of aluminium and was tapping it with a stick to release the words.

“Koto, are you there yet? We are waiting for confirmation that the site is clear and we can drop the package.” Koto and Yuto looked at each other to confirm that they were both thinking of the same answer. They agreed with their eyes.

“The bridge is out,” said Koto.

“It doesn’t look like an intentional sabotage, but we haven’t inspected the wreckage yet,” said Yuto.

“Hmmm.” said the sheet of aluminium. “I’ll send someone over to get you across. Are the skies clear?”

Koto looked at the last bird in the bird amoeboid as it dipped out of sight past the tree line. “Relatively. There are some invisible flying objects coming from the trees.”

“Holy moles, invisible flying objects?! Are you sure this trip is safe.” came the voice on the wrist phone.

“Birds.” said Yuto. “They’re birds, but with a keen sense for camouflage. Seem harmless.”

“Alright, I’ll trust you on that one. Backup should be with you shortly.” And another loud ‘blip!’ cut the voice off before the ‘y’ had time to be heard out.

“Well,” said Koto, “We won’t have long to wait I’m guessing. Let’s check out this bridge anyway and see what’s happened.”

Koto and Yuto walked over to the bridge, right at the edge where the road started to shoot itself off the edge and into the water. The road seemed so used to gravity making it an exception in these river-crossing circumstances, that all it’s bits and chunks that lay by the bank looked up in surprise. It’s depressed sprawl was asking the tree why it betrayed it like this. In answer, the tree said that it was a necessary sacrifice. And the bridge pieces were still hurt, but understood.

Yuto had brought with him a Fantabulator-8080, which he proceeded to demonstrate his dextrous manipulation of matter with, using the bridge as his test subject. A hunk of bridge the size of a tire went hoofing into the sky like an inverse meteorite.

“Hmmm.” nodded Koto. “No hope in putting this back together ourselves.” Yuto had lowered the strength setting down to two on his Fantabulator-8080 and was toying with a leaf that had fallen from one of the trees that had attacked the bridge. Upon inspection, its hard, sharp surface surprised him, it was almost like a toug nut.

It was, in fact, a pine cone.

Something exploded off in the trees on the other side of the bank and Koto sprang on all fours, ready to engage in combat.

“Don’t worry, that was the piece of bridge I hoofed up earlier,” said Yuto.

“Holy moles, I thought they’d just decided to drop the bomb without telling us,” said Koto.

A few more birds had fled the trees, the sound waves of the bridge meteor stirring them into action. Yuto snared one in the beam of his Fantabulator-8080. It still tried to flap inside the pink field that was swallowing it, instinctively more than effectively. Two other birds saw their companion suspended mid flight and humming an offensive pink glow, and darted away faster than before.

Yuto brought his catch within arms reach and turned it this way and that like a spinning gyroscope. Trapped in this involuntary fairground ride, the bird cocked its head and watch Yuto intently, as if asking him with his eyes whether she was merciful.

Content with the examination, Yuto hoofed the bird into the sky, tracing the same path as the bridge.

“Golly molly,” said Koto, “that was a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Yuto turned towards Koto, “The have no camouflage abilities. I’m within a margin on one-hundred percent certain.”

A ferocious scream, like the tearing of a conscious piece of metal in deep agony, ripped through the trees. Upset, a stream of winged creatures poured from the canopy and into the sky. Then followed an explosion like the inversion of a twenty-mile gasoline balloon that had just caught fire. So great was the sound, it made the ferocious scream seem like a mere appetiser.

“Was that the bird you threw?!” yelled Koto. Yuto shook his head.

“Was that you’re alarm?!” yelled Yuto. Koto shook his head.

The noise was so loud that Koto hadn’t heard the alarm from his wrist. He saw a green light blinking there now, and pushed on it to connect the call.

“We can’t hear you!” shouted Koto, “Something in the forest has just made a terrible noise! We think it was the birds!”

A hot flame came shooting out of the forest, right up the other side of the bank where the bridge had collapsed, and began working at the river, evaporating it inch by inch. Koto put an ear on top of his wrist so he could hear better.

“Hello?” said the aluminium voice.

“Yes! I can hear you now,” replied Koto, feeling reasonably and uncomfortably hot at this point from the sea of fire coming towards him

“We had to go through with it. Management gave the all clear. Good work, gentlemen and gentlewomen.” The call cutoff.

Koto turned to Yuto as he felt the surface of his face start to scream at him that it was turning from a solid form into a liquid form. His face didn’t like this new state of things. Yuto turned to Koto because her face felt similar.

“Did they drop it?” asked Yuto. Her face, although half melted, still gave away her disappointment, her pain at being betrayed.

“Holy moles. They dropped it.” said Koto.