In Which Brad Finds His Destiny and Trevor Loses What Dignity He Thought He Had

Something about the way the fading sunlight bounced off the clouds, giving the sky a distinctly purplish hue gave Brad a sense of impending fate.

To be fair, this was the same guy who would say that the wind whistling past him carried a whiff of adventure and that the damp morning air after a stormy night had a menacing chill.

Brad, as you may have guessed, operated off vibes.

And right now the vibe was destiny.

"Can you feel it, Trevor?"

"Feel what, Brad?" the aforenamed beaver answered, looking up from the sticks he was examining.

"Destiny."

Trevor was used to his friend's dramatics. This was the issue with moose - heads too far from the floor to stay grounded. Smaller creatures don't have this issue. There's always a predator to worry about or a house to build a neighbor to educate. Real work. Trevor considered Brad's musings to be the privilege of the tall.

His semi-aquatic companion's lack of response did not deter Brad from continuing, "I can smell it, Trevor."

"What does destiny smell like?"

"It smells like sunset and courage and...danger." 

Trevor was not sure what to do with this information. 

"I feel it, friend, I feel that my purpose will be clear tonight."

Trevor's nose twitched, but not, as Brad assumed, because he was thinking about the profound experience his tall friend was going through. It twitched because he too was getting a feeling. It was a feeling of impending doom because he had caught a whiff of lynx.

"I wish I knew what it was calling me to do."

"What?" asked Trevor.

"I wish I understood what I had to do to fulfill my..." here Brad paused in place for dramatic effect "...destiny."

"Do you smell that?"

"The destiny?"

"The large, angry cat."

Brad stiffened.

This was it. His purpose and calling as clear as the receeding hairline on a bald eagle. He posed, extending to his full height, chest proudly puffed and antlers glistening. Then he quickly dropped to the ground.

"Quick, Trevor, get on my back!"

"I'm not going to do that, Br..." but before he could finish refusing he found he was somehow on the moose's back and already at a dizzying height away from the safety of the forest floor.

Trevor now had to choose between holding on to his friend's fur or holding on to his dignity. His sense of self preservation made the choice for him. And so, beaver tail bouncing ungracefully on his back, a glow of realized fate spread across his face, Brad galloped away.