“We need a plan! A good plan!” Greg wracked his brain for anything. They were surrounded! Isolated! The villains could be hiding in any direction! As far as Greg could see, it was a hopeless situation. As far he could see…. A brilliant idea crashed into his brain. Greg turned to Dylan, eyes filled with enthusiasm.

“Do you have one? A plan, I mean?” Greg asked, enacting his genius strategy of delegation. Humans had a lot more space in their brains for ideas.

Dylan groaned and clutched at his stomach, the body part Greg had contacted at top speed. Greg was a hefty avian! Dylan looked at his hand, it had come back wet and puke covered, an expression of disgust reached his face. Sorry! He wiped his hand on the ashy ground and started to stand.

Much to Greg’s horror.

“Bad plan! Bad plan!” Greg honked and barreled at him a second time, crashing into Dylan’s side. “What are you using the extra space for!” He angrily questioned Dylan. The man let out a string of curses in response.

Greg couldn’t feel too bad, though. Those fox snipers were a crack shot!

“Stay down!” Greg yelled. Dylan obliged, possibly through understanding, likely through pain. He eyed Greg, wary. Damn language barriers! Greg had to find a way to tell him. He searched his surroundings, then saw the feather in the ring.

The dead goose! He had seen the fur!

He crawled to the goose corpse, pushing his body across the ashy ground. He achieved both incredibly slow movement and a distinct grey colouration. Coming to the body, he saw a few strands of fox fur still trapped in her feathers. A multitude of evidence!

He picked up a few and returned to Dylan, who was caught between disgust, pain, and a bit of fear.

Understandable, he had just seen his partner shot.

Still, they had important matters to focus on. Greg went up to Dylan with the strands of fox fur and began waving them in front of his eyes.

“What is that?” Dylan took the orange strands into his hand. “Is this… there was fox hair on the goose?” Greg nodded excitedly. He clamped his mouth upon them and crawled towards Terry. He mimed the fur going into the bullet hole.

Understanding dawned on Dylan’s face. “You think a fox shot the goose… and Terry.” He stated, slightly disbelieving.

Greg nodded again in euphoria. Yes! He got it!

“I… Terry…” Dylan put a hand to his face, then flinched when he realized it was the goose puke one. With a defeated look, he remarkably came to terms with the situation. “That’s… yes, a fox shot Terry.” He said, eyes still distant.

“Exactly! And they’re still out there.” Greg swivelled his head around the field.

Dylan seemed to be getting used to the language barrier. “That’s why you tackled me, isn’t it? You didn’t-” He started laughing, almost manic. “You didn’t want me to be shot.” The laughing soon turned to sad sounds.

Greg turned his head to watch for an ambush, a model of sympathetic patience. Best to let the officer grieve unimpaired.

“You think the foxes are still here?” Dylan asked Greg after a time, his eyes tinted with red. A nod was Greg’s response. Dylan was silent. Lost in thought. “I have a device….” He finally said. “that should be able to detect any nearby foxes.” He pulled something out of his pocket.

Greg honked in anger. “That’s just a phone! Are you trying to get us killed?”

Dylan, anticipating this reaction, had an answer. “The government upgraded them. They’re taking this threat very seriously.” Dylan stated with complete earnestness. “Or did you think this was the only fox attack carried out recently?”

Greg noised his understanding. Of course! How could he be so small minded? He was probably one of many goose detectives! It was a conspiracy! A grand one!

Dylan raised the phone, turning it in all directions. Both waited with bated breath, but It didn’t make a sound. “Looks like we’re in the clear.” Dylan started standing, and Greg didn’t stop him. In fact, he joined him! Happy to be free of the oppressive ash, he gave his feathers a shake, then gave his nose a sneeze. A Lot of ash had gotten in there.

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“Freedom Dylan!” Greg honked. “Freedom- Oh.” Dylan was staring at the corpse of Terry. Greg’s own eyes went to the corpse of the goose. Not many things to celebrate.

“Except not being dead, of course!” He flapped his wings in joy. Not being dead was in his list of the top ten greatest things! Right below food!

“What are you going on about?” Dylan asked, a dark look on his face.

“Philosophy!” Dylan did not deign to respond. Greg moved to pick up some fox fur before he forgot. He tried to place it in the ring with the feather.

“What are you doing there?” Dylan asked, Greg showed him the fur. “Gathering evidence?” A nod. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” A vigorous nod. Dylan seemed to come to a decision. He walked to his car and returned with a small ziplock bag and a zip tie.

Greg’s eyes went wide. “For me?” He hissed in excitement.

Dylan stopped immediately. “You don’t want it?” He seemed taken aback.

“No, I want it!” Those were excited hisses, not angry! Completely different sounds! When Dylan did not take a step forward, Greg stretched out a leg, using more physical language.

Dylan nodded, relieved. “First though, what do you want in it?” Greg gave him the fox fur. Then went to Terry’s head, sticking his beak in, he did a cursory search for the bullet.

“Stop that! I’ll deal with Terry.” Dylan interjected, quite insistent. “You should focus on the goose.”

Good point! Greg didn’t necessarily have jurisdiction over human crimes. Only geese authority figures were part of his chain of command. Probably.

Dylan picked out shotgun pellets from the goose and glanced at Greg. He nodded, and it was placed in the bag. Greg spun around... what else?

Ah! He peered down. The ash! He tried to grab some with his beak but ended up failing. Dylan had to help him with that part as well. Hands were sooo useful! He’d love to have them!

Envy is unbecoming of a detective, though. Unlike Dylan, Greg could fly… or try to. Point is, each species has its own strengths!

One last thing, Greg thought of the questions. The one he almost forgot to ask… If he didn’t figure out he was a detective, events could’ve gone very differently. He needed to make sure he could keep his promise. Greg thought he would remember, sure, but it’s better to prepare anyways. With much difficulty, Greg wrote the word he wanted to be written on the bag. ‘Evidence’ a reminder of the crime. Of his duty.

Dylan came over to take a look. “What the fuck is that supposed to say?”

“What do mean, what-- Yeah… yeah I see what you mean actually.” Greg’s ‘writing’ was a bunch of lines overlapping each other, seemingly no rhyme or reason. That’s what happens when you have to write with your nose, can’t see where you go wrong. The only distinct marks were from the sneezes induced by nose inscription.

An admirable effort, but very unrecognizable. The bird shrugged. It probably wouldn’t matter anyway. It’d be laughable for him to forget his occupation during the middle of his duties! Greg stuck out his leg, ready to face the future.

Dylan knelt to fasten the bag. Once it was on, he stared into Greg’s seemingly vacant goose eyes, a melancholy overtaking him. “I knew someone like you once... I don’t know if he turned out exactly... “He trailed off, then reached into his front pocket.

A hazy blue and green medal, wait! It changed like a-

“A medal of the aurora. For those who were there, my father’s.” He moved it to Greg’s chest. “Here.” It glued itself to Greg’s chest feathers almost instantaneously.

“Thank you! It’s beautiful!” Greg honked, moved by the gesture.

“I’ll clean up here.” He patted Greg on the shoulder. “Be safe little goose. I know it’s not even summer, but autumn always comes..” His voice was quiet, serious. “Please, don’t die.”

“I’ll try not to!” Greg said. And he would! As previously mentioned, not dying was high on his list of priorities!

So with a wave, Greg set off on his monumental task! Sooooo much grain! He’d never be able to eat it all! Truly a challenge!

Stomach refilled, Greg started on his much less challenging but no less important task.

He was going to solve a murder.