Begin my mighty search for my owner, heading in the general direction of where he was headed!
You fly south, towards where you think he went. It's going to take you another turn to catch up with him, though.
Beneath you, on the road, some people are getting out of a truck. One of them looks quite distraught, while the other appears indifferent. It looks like they're looking for something.
Fly above the cars of the suspicious men and "decorate" them, like any ordinary pigeon would.
[7]
You add a bit of flair to their otherwise boring van. One of the loiterers, a bald, heavily built man wearing dark shades, curses at you, reaching for his coat. The shortest of the three, clearly the leader of the group, elbows him disapprovingly.
They don't seem to appreciate your effort.
Get out of the way! Then, play possum.
[6] You briefly suppress your natural instincts, throwing yourself to the side. Your little body bounces off the pavement, rolling into a nearby ditch.
[8+1] You hear a screech from the road, and the roaring ceases. Something opens, and slams shut. Then, you hear the distinct crunch of human footsteps.
-snip-
Try to remember any relevant details from my past, if any. Look around at myself, the duck, the buoy, and any other important nearby objects.
There's not much to remember. You've spent most of your life living on this island. Every winter, you migrate south and live on the open ocean.
The buoy is red, about four ducks in diameter. Three metal posts, arranged in a conical fashion on top of the buoy, support a small platform covered in various instruments. The two of you fit comfortably beneath said platform. The buoy appears to be muttering to itself. Something about fairies.
You're currently sitting on said buoy, which is floating in the ocean. To the north, the rugged sea coast runs parallel to you. You're not that far from it. Roughly perpendicular to the rocky coast, a wide river cuts through the land, before spilling into the sea. The bridge runs over this river, connected on either side to two-lane roads.
The buildings near the shore are a mix of cabins and hotels, none of them too tall. There's a handful of people left on a beach west of the rivermouth, but most of the tourists have retired for the night.
find the blue fairy to turn me into a real duck and meet many friends along the way and realize life isn't about the destination but the journey.
But you're already a real duck! Right?
...you suppose that the [7-4] larger duck sitting on top of your head is a sort of bluish color. Maybe that's who you need to talk to?
Besides the fact that it's a floating rock, it's bright red, and it's covered in human writing?
"Oh. If you want, I can read these to you."
Read the writing aloud for him.
It's written in a haphazard combination of broken English and hieroglyphs. And you're a duck.
"The buoy appears to depict a story, probably a human myth explaining the origin of genitals. And apparently, this guy Kilroy is involved."