(27) - Her Mother's Grove -

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LUCY WAS AS GREEN as the Fragilli by the time they departed the tram.

"I told you not to eat so many cream cakes," Abby chided, her hand running down Lucy's head and providing him with comforting pats. A contented sigh slipped from his lips.

Beside them, Sebbi walked with noticeable disdain, his arms crossed over himself, his glare trained on Lucy.

Lucy didn't seem to mind or hadn't noticed, or had and was being willfully oblivious. Instead, he simply nuzzled Abby's neck more, a grin propping up his face.

"If you need a shoulder to rest on," hissed Sebbi. "Mine's available, brother."

Lucy shooed him, and his suggestion away with a limp wave of his wrist. "No thank you. I'm perfectly content with the current position of my head. Why there is no better, no warmer, or lovelier a perch, than my love's shoulder."

Abby gave a snicker. Then, as they strolled past a band of burlas under which sat a dozen Laosians seeking refuge from the sun, she asked, rather boldly, "And what of Margo's shoulders? I hear many heads would seek out their comfort if she'd let them."

Lucy's head snapped upright. His smile faded, and his cheeks paled. "Love," he said miserably. "I do not wish to rest my head on anyone else's shoulders, especially Margo's."

At this, both Sebbi and Abby rolled their eyes.

"It's true!" He harrumphed, flinging his arms around himself and jutting his chin. "True, her hair is as soft as nightsilk, and the curls undoubtedly would tickle my cheeks and forehead, but she'd also, certainly, laugh at my handsomeness, and though her laughter sounds like bells played only by the most accomplished hands, such rudeness to Aelurus's king could not be tolerated."

"And yet she mocks your appearance daily, and you have yet to punish her in any way," Sebbi said. They passed a pit where meat was being roasted on the fire. He licked his lips at the glistening, blackening skin.

"Oh, haven't I?" Had Lucy had his tail, he would have flicked it indignantly then, riling dirt clouds to take flight around them. "Her daily allowances of cheese have been cut by a quarter and my staff only serves her her second favorite cheese. All my doing."

"If that's a punishment, I shudder to think what you'll do if she ever admits to liking you."

A blush rose to Lucy's cheeks. "I–I would...think of something appropriate."

"Sure," Sebbi's eyes roamed over to Abby's when– "Be careful." He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. She stumbled but remained upright.

Her eyes were bright with alarm, her cheeks flushed.

"A puddle," he said, quickly letting her go.

"Oh." She smoothed strands of hair that had fallen free of her ribbons. Sure enough, she'd been a few handspans from a pool of questionable brown liquid, haloed by a swarm of buzzing black specks. "Thank you."

Sebbi nodded, and Lucy, who had watched the whole thing go down, strode over to Abby with renewed vigor, looping his arm through hers.

"I will help you sidestep any further puddles, love."

She chuckled. "You just want me to keep petting your head." With a hand, she beckoned him to once again rest on her shoulder.

He obliged eagerly and easily, situating his head perfectly on top of her shoulder, his hair pressed against her neck. It was just as soft as his fur had been, and without thinking she began running her fingers through it.

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