The Stray

2-34: Chasing Fairies

For being maybe half a thumb tall, the little thing could move! The moment it realized they'd seen it, it gasped and tore off at blistering speed. What glimpses Timothy could catch around people's feet, the grass and whatnot that poked through the dirt roads, and the sunlight were fleeting at best, even running full-tilt after it!

It was the wings. The little creature wasn't flying, but it used its wings whenever it needed a burst of speed. Every time he caught a glimpse of it, or started to gain, it could juke them by suddenly zagging in a new direction in a single wingbeat! And there was something else, too...

"Where'd it go? Fuck, it lost us already!" V groaned, slowing to a stop. Timothy stopped too, crouching low. The fairy's scent of honey still lingered, even though he couldn't see it. There was this feeling in his gut, a familiar one.

Like a Mientofani on the hunt. "No, it's just Beneath Notice! Our eyes can't stick on!" He swept the street once, then twice. "Focus on details, not the big picture!" He grabbed Mandy and with a grunt of effort, hurled her as high as he could. It wasn't very impressive, but the extra eye from above had to help somehow...

"There! By the flowerpot!" The fae had hidden in plain sight, holding still. He could barely focus on it unless he squinted right at it! As soon as Timothy called out though it bolted, and the wolf had no choice but to follow or risk it vanishing again! "Just follow me!"

But V was just too big. "Gangway! Sorry!" Timothy could duck arms and tumble between legs to dodge people. But V, the moment she followed him around the corner, she promptly smashed into someone hard enough to make 'em yelp. "Sorry!"

She stopped to help— he didn't. Timothy left V in the dust, desperately trying to keep the fairy from disappearing into his peripheral vision. He took turn after turn around houses, forced to look at nothing but the creature and rely on Mandy's flashes of sight to avoid crashing.

Even as more people filled the roads to go to lunch, Timothy was a fast little runt. When a mailbird took up a whole alley with her hovering wingspan, he slid under her (she squawked indignantly) and kept running.

Even then, it was a desperate chase. Timothy was quick and nimble when he had to be, but he had no staying power. Already, as they passed the Nightmare Scar, his lungs were burning. His heart pounded like it wanted to bash its way out of his chest. Even his eyes were straining from trying to hold on through the fairy's slippery aura. He was Vol, born to hunt, but he couldn't keep this up much longer.

Turn after turn he weakened, breath growing shorter, legs aching. He was barely keeping glimpses of its tail in view. Around and around and around, he finally hit his limit—

—and finally saw it bolt into a building. An old tailor's shop? Then Timothy collapsed. V found him on his hands and knees, shaking like he was gonna throw up and sucking in desperate breaths. When she landed, he could barely even tilt his head to look at her.

"I... hate... running...!" He managed to huff. V patted him on the back.

"Hey, if it lost us, it lost us. You ran like hell!"

"Didn't... lose me." Timothy panted, and pointed at the shop. "Ran in there..." his tongue lolled out, because even though he was heatproof now, he was still a wolf running hot. He was even sweating.

V looked the place over. "Huh, I think this place closed when I was a kid."

"Must be... a nest. Smells've honey..." it even tasted like it, to him.

V looked at him with a mix of exasperation and worry. "Do I need to haul ya to Mat?"

"Just... lemme..." Timothy fully flopped over. "Oooogh... I'm gonna puke..."