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Blathers was doing his last tour of the museum before locking it up for the night, so that he could read in peace. No villager would question a ‘surprise maintenance’ now and then, and he intended to take full advantage of it. Especially since he got his friend Brewster to move upstairs…They could catch up again, he thought he heard mention of a bluebird the latter had adopted recently and hadn’t heard anything more.
After visiting the fish section, Blathers moved on to the final section, the one he’d been putting off: the insect pavilion.
He shivered immediately upon entering the greenhouse, reminded by the distant buzzing sound why he’d left this for last. It just…makes his insides itch, whenever he has to deal with bugs. He doesn’t care how ironic or illogical his fear is, it just is.
He started walking through the still-lit butterfly area, doing a rapid headcount of all the creatures present, maintaining eye contact with them as little as possible.
Then, he moved on to the branching paths, and almost got a heart attack when he passed by the spider and it jumped down to greet him at eye level. He apologized briefly, not daring to stare into its eight beady eyes, and cast his gaze over the great tree.
The owl nearly fainted as he squawked in surprise.
The Atlas moth.
It was missing!
And on the tree where it usually rested was a note. With shaking wings, Blathers took it off the tree, making a face of disgust at the tree sap that had been used to stick it there, and read the sticky note:
‘I took your moth to send it on a mission. I’ll bring it back before sunrise, I needed a powerful large moth and couldn’t find one. Thanks!
-Mobo’
The owl scratched his head for an answer as to who this Mobo was. A new villager? No, clearly not, he would’ve known, whenever he leaves the museum…Which is, every week…Well, no villager would willingly steal a moth just to—send it on a mission? Seriously? What does that mean?
Armed with his guidebook and the sticky note, Blathers set out into the night to find this mysterious character.
He looked towards the beach, place where a ritual sacrifice would easily be visible, but evidently, that was too much to ask for, and he left with his spirit even more dimmed at having to walk through the forest of Nidavellir.
It’s dark, cold, and damp, not to mention-
Filled with bugs!
Enough to drive an owl mad, and he’s talking about regular ones!
He walked up the cobblestone stairs that led right in front of the last path created by the wonderful Naximeri right next to the cedar forest. He gulped, and entered the foliage.
He walked through without getting scared at every buzzing noise (only most of them) until he saw the glow of a lantern through the leaves and followed the swinging light, until he heard the powerful wingflaps of a moth. He almost ducked away, but then his vision adjusted.
The atlas moth!
It was…flying up towards the top of a tree? And at the top, it took a fat squirrel on its back and brought it back down to let it crawl inside the hole it had made in the tree as a home for itself.
Blathers blinked a few times, trying to gauge if he’s been dreaming or not. But then, his eyes shifted down, towards the glow of the lantern, and he saw who was holding it.
“Michelle!” He cried out, stepping out from behind the tree.
The young owlet turned, surprised to see him there. “Uncle Blathers!” She brightened up, then pointed to the moth. “Hope you’re not too mad, I needed to borrow him to get the squirrel down. It got stuck.”
“Yes, yes, I can see that,” Blathers stopped right next to her, looking at the moth as if it might bite him, just laying on the bark. “Now, can you put it back in its cage? I need to bring it back home, if possible.”
“But George doesn’t want tooooo!” She whined, showing him the plastic green cage they use for transportation. “Look! It’s empty and not cozy at all! And the inside is so scratchy! I can carry him to the museum, please??”
“Geo-of course, you named the moth. Marvellous,” said Blathers, sounding anything but. He sighed, and took the cage from her, examining it under every facet. “I must agree with you, it’s very…moche, like your mom would say, but I just don’t know if—”
He was suddenly hit with a realization. “Wait, you’re Mobo, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” The young owl beamed with pride, “I made the title myself, because I’m Michelle the oriental bay owl! I used your books on codes to figure it out! Cool, right?”
“Uh, yes, yes, very cool,” Blathers agreed, the ‘ool’ sound rolling off his tongue strangely, with a soft hooting tone behind it. “I have an idea. If you can make sticky notes as good as the one you left me…Well, what if you made a bunch more with neat information about the bugs and I let you decorate the transport cage?”
Michelle absolutely beamed with excitement. “Really?” She asked.
“Yes, of course, every time your parents come here to relax,” Blathers told her, knowing that if they found out about this midnight escapade during their restaurant reservation at the pier he’d never hear the end of it. “Now, let’s get…George back in his cage for the time being, and we’ll be able to get to the museum fast enough to start on our project.”
But Michelle hesitated.
“Michelle…?” The older owl pried.
She sighed. “But what about the others?”
“The others?”
“I’ve been raising them since they were eggs a few hours ago!” She said, pushing apart the leaves of a bush to show Blathers the veritable ecosystem crawling with caterpillars and juvenile moths inside of it. He jumped back as if bitten, and fought hard to keep his breathing under control.
Michelle looked at him expectantly.
“We can leave them there, they seem to be adapting fine,” he said at least, heart giving one last sputter before returning to a more normal cadence. “You’ll see them in the morning. I can’t bring them with us, you know how it is. No critters in the house.”
“But that’s boring!” Michelle complained, “It’s no fair that you get to be this sciency fancy pants guy and I have to do math all the time!”
Blathers restrained himself from telling her that he does not want to be anywhere near these bugs but suffers for his morals, instead choosing to take the lantern from her. “Come on, you can play with the moths that have been donated already. These…they’re wild moths, they’ll figure it out, won’t they?”
“I guess…” murmured Michelle as she cast the bugs one long, final look, and swore that they were sparkling as they flew inside the bush.