Chapter 398: To the Beach for Some Fries (2)

Chapter 398 -386: To the Beach for Some Fries (2)

He wasn’t going to forage. He was embarking on a most dangerous “reconnaissance mission.” ‘Yes, that’s it.’ Rick had found himself an excuse.

The beach was deserted. Only five giant wooden platters lay silently under the moonlight.

Rick didn’t land immediately. He circled high above, observing carefully. No nets. No reflective metal. No suspicious devices.

‘It seems those two-legs really did just drop off the food and leave.’

He descended slowly, landing at the point farthest from the wooden platters. He approached step by step, ever vigilant.

The yellow sticks in the wooden platters were already cold, and their aroma had faded, but they still stirred his appetite.

He stretched out his neck and gingerly tapped one of them with the tip of his beak.

Cold. Stiff.

‘It’s not alive.’

He mustered his courage and picked one up with the tip of his beak.

In that very instant, an explosion of flavor erupted on his taste buds: the savor of salt, the fragrance of oil, and the wondrous sweetness that comes from cooking carbohydrates at high heat.

‘What… is this?’

Rick’s mind went blank.

He had never experienced a sensation so complex, so intense, so utterly delightful.

He swallowed the fry.

An indescribable sense of satisfaction rose from his stomach and spread throughout his entire body.

‘A trap?’

‘If this is a trap, then may I be doomed for all eternity!’

Rick threw himself at the wooden platter, gobbling ravenously. All caution was gone, his only thought to stuff all of these treasures into his belly. He ate every last fry, even scraping the bottom of the platter over and over with his beak, licking clean the salt crystals coated in grease.

He didn’t stop until he could no longer scrape out the slightest hint of flavor.

He let out a satisfied burp, a rich aroma wafting up from his throat.

He stored the last few whole fries in his crop—the absolute most he could carry. He had to take this discovery back with him.

When Rick quietly returned to the nest, his mate immediately smelled the strange new scent on him.

“Where the devil have you been?!”

Seeing his mate was angry, Rick hurriedly regurgitated the fries from his crop. Three now slightly softened yellow sticks lay on the rock.

His mate hesitated for a moment, then carefully took a small peck.

The next second, her pupils dilated.

The chicks, drawn by the scent, waddled over and clumsily shared the delicacy.

The secret of the yellow sticks began to spread quietly among the younger generation of Thief Gulls.

「The next day, just as the sky began to brighten.」

A commotion broke out in the nesting area.

“I tried it last night! The stuff Rick brought back! It was amazing!”

“SHHH! Keep it down! The elders are coming!”

Keeping their voices low, Rick and his mate were breathlessly describing the magical flavor to a few of their young friends.

Just then, the figures of the two-legs appeared on the distant beach once more.

This time, they brought even more wooden platters, leaving them in the same spot. Billowing steam rose into the air, and the aroma, which seemed even stronger than yesterday, rode the morning breeze, shamelessly invading the sea cliff with its tantalizing scent.

After setting down the food, one of the two-legs didn’t leave right away. Instead, he turned, waved vigorously toward the sea cliff, and shouted, “Hey! Friends! These are called ‘fries’! They’re not poisonous! Please come down and try some!”

“Fuh-ries?”

The pronunciation of the word echoed in the Thief Gulls’ minds, sounding exceptionally strange.

They didn’t understand its meaning, yet for some reason, they felt a sense of fondness for the sound, as if the word was destined to be associated with something wonderful. The young Thief Gulls grew even more restless, the desire in their eyes burning hotter.

The two-leg who had shouted seemed satisfied. Whistling, he left with his companion.

On the cliff, the Big Thief Gull leader cleared his throat and issued a decree in his most commanding voice.

“All birds! No one is to go near that stuff again! Anyone caught eating it will be banned from eating fish for three days!”

As soon as the ban was announced, several of the older Thief Gulls sprang into action. They marched to the cliff’s edge, spread their wings, and stood in a line, glaring at all the younger members of the flock.

But the ban was useless.

A young Thief Gull approached one of the elders and said with great earnestness, “Reporting to the elder! The fish have been scarce lately, so a few of us have decided to fly to more distant waters to find new fishing grounds! For the good of the flock!”

After receiving permission, the few gulls and a group of their younger brethren shot into the sky.

Under the watchful eyes of the elders, they flew off into the distance, then made a wide circle in the air, looping around to the other side of the cliff, and landed near the platters that emanated the fragrant aroma. They hastily took a few bites, then snatched up a couple of small fish and flew back to the nest, pretending to be exhausted.

The Big Thief Gull leader stood on his throne, watching it all, his beak trembling with rage.

He personally selected several of his strongest and most reliable subordinates, set up a guard post right next to the pile of tempting “fries,” and ordered them to stand watch around the clock.

It was sheer torture.

The guards were forced to be within a beak’s reach of the delicacy. The aroma was like a thousand tiny hands, constantly scratching at their hearts. All they had to do was stretch their necks to peck at the golden, crispy, still-steaming treats.

Finally, one of the guards couldn’t take it anymore. The moment its companion turned its head to scan the sea, it shot its beak out like lightning, snatched a fry, and swallowed it whole. It quickly resumed its post, pretending nothing had happened. Though its heart pounded like a drum, the brief, exquisite taste in its mouth made its whole body tremble.

Its companion seemed to notice something—a hint of butter and roasted potato in the air. It said nothing, but the next time it was its turn to face the sea, its own movement was just as swift as lightning.

Stealing from their own post no longer required secret signals or excuses; it became a silent understanding.

One would turn its head, and the other would strike. They even learned to block the view with their wings, pretending to preen their feathers while actually feasting to their hearts’ content.

The leader discovered that his subordinates, after a day of guard duty, all had round, full bellies. The area around the guard post was always scattered with fine, golden crumbs, and inexplicably, more than half of the fries in the platters were clearly missing. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

He didn’t erupt in anger immediately, but instead fell into a long silence.

It had been two days. The guards who had stolen the food not only showed no signs of being poisoned or weakened as he had feared, but on the contrary, their feathers were glossy and shimmering, and they seemed more energetic than ever. And the two-legs had indeed kept their “promise,” simply dropping off fresh “fries” on schedule every day, never coming near and never setting any traps.

‘What is this, really? Are they trying to break our fighting spirit with delicious food?’

Finally, on a sunny afternoon, as a new platter of fries was set down and its imperious aroma once again filled the entire cliffside, the leader looked at the longing practically spilling from his flock’s eyes and let out a short, helpless cry.

The ban was lifted.

The young Thief Gulls no longer needed excuses or disguises. They descended in a great swarm, swooping down upon the golden beach like a torrent.

“Going to the beach for some fries” soon replaced “Where are we fishing today?” as the flock’s most popular greeting. Even the most stubborn, tradition-bound elders, after being half-coaxed, half-forced by the youngsters to try a bite, quickly succumbed to the crispy, savory flavor.

These days, even the leader himself had grown accustomed to flying down to their exclusive “cafeteria” after his territorial patrols, leisurely pecking at a few still-warm fries.

He still maintained his kingly demeanor, eating with elegance and restraint, as if he were merely sampling a trivial offering.

Only, when he let out a contented burp and the familiar scent of butter and roasted potatoes rose in his throat, he would gaze at the distant white tower, a complex emotion flickering in his golden eyes. ‘What if that two-leg doesn’t come with the fries tomorrow?’