A giant, silent cloud of white fluff swallowed the Whispering Woods! It wasn't snow; it was a fog so thick it looked like marshmallow soup. Batty floated in mid-air, squinting his eyes. "Who put the forest in a glass of milk?" he wondered aloud, bumping softly into a wet leaf.

"Hoo? Hoo is there?" a nervous voice called out from a bush. It was Professor Hoot! The poor owl was clinging to a low twig, his monocle completely fogged up with steam. "I cannot see a thing past my own beak!" the Professor admitted, looking very un-wise and extra fluffy.

Batty realized his goggles were useless, but his ears were ready for action. "Don't worry, Professor! I don't need eyes to see," he announced, puffing out his peach-colored chest. He let out a sharp squeak—*Ping!* The sound bounced back from the trees, painting a perfect picture in his mind.

It was the slowest parade in history. Batty flew ahead, squeaking like a squeaky toy, while Professor Hoot and a lost squirrel held onto each other's tails to stay together. "Left! Right! Dodge the pinecone!" Batty shouted, feeling like a very important traffic controller.

Finally, Batty guided the group safely to the Great Oak without a single bump. "You are a very loud, but very good leader," Hoot chuckled, wiping his glasses as the fog began to clear. Batty beamed, hanging upside down. "I'm not just loud," he whispered proudly, "I'm sonar-powered!"