Prince of Feathers

1 - deep in the woods

In hindsight, Tango regretted everything that he was doing.

It was far too late at night to be running headfirst into the woods, no matter how jerky the guys behind him were. At least if they caught up to him he'd be brought back somewhere relatively safe, indoors and warm. But noooo, Tango had decided that sprinting directly into the forest at midnight in a botched escape attempt was his smartest course of action. He was a genius.

The trees were scraggly things, pointy and jagged, branches jutting into his path at sharp angles. Everything was cast in gloomy shadows from the thick canopy above, and the calls of strange animals could be heard in the distance. Tango shuddered, the wind stabbing through his thin tunic.

Flicking his gaze over his shoulder, he realized the one perk to this was that he was no longer being chased. He ran for a little longer before slowing to a stop in a large clearing, turning in a circle to try and get some semblance of his bearings.

Well, it was official. Tango had absolutely no clue where he was.

He did, however, notice a very nice looking tree on the edge of the clearing, significantly less scary looking, and significantly more curvy as opposed to angular. It also looked very climbable.

Tango smiled to himself, hurrying over to the tree. He took his backpack off first, and tossed it up into the branches before beginning to climb the tree himself. When he reached a sturdy branch, nice and high up from the ground, he stopped, retrieving his bag.

He got himself situated in the tree, planning to sleep here for the night. Sure, it would be cold, but he'd packed a blanket in his bag and it would only be for one night. Tango pulled the blanket out and bundled himself up like a burrito, before sticking the bag behind his head to use as a pillow. He settled back, eyes on the branches above.

It was... definitely not the most comfortable place he'd ever slept, but it would have to do. Anything was better than being back with them.

And plus, if he turned his head a little to the left, he could peer through all of those thick leaves and see a sliver of sky above. A patch of stars twinkling against navy blue. Tango stared at it for a while until his eyelids slipped shut from exhaustion.

He hummed to himself as he fell asleep, a small tune he'd remembered hearing when he was young. He didn't remember the lyrics, but he'd remembered the melody; it was a quiet, comforting one. Tango kept humming until he drifted off. He'd figure things out when the morning came.

— ● — ● —

As it turns out, mornings hated Tango. He woke to harsh, jarring sunlight, as well as incessant chirping from songbirds.

It could've been rather fantasy-esque, he thought, waking up in nature to the soft chittering of forest creatures like some sort of wilderness princess. Tango, however, was not a princess, and he was also freezing cold. He groaned and grumbled to himself, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders as he shivered.

He didn't want to wake up yet, the outside was too chilly. He imagined he was indoors again, with a mattress, many blankets and the heavenly invention of indoor heating. Seriously, whoever had invented automated indoor heating– the kind that *gasp* didn't require a fireplace –was in Tango's good books for all of eternity. He hummed happily, relishing in his daydream about warmth.

Past Tango scorned him for such daydreams. He didn't want to be back there, with those horrid people! This was better than being inside, he was free!

Hmm, it seems that Past Tango had forgotten a key and important factor of Now Tango. He liked to be warm. And cozy. The outdoors were neither of these things.