The Stray

2-42: To Wear the Hat...

She was bluffing.

No she wasn't!

You do it all the time.

Yeah, because a small child can literally strangle me! Locke's like a six-foot tall, scary version of V!

She's just trying to scare you off!

It's working!

Timothy paced around the guest room like a caged animal. He'd spent the rest of the day in a daze, hidden behind a stoic mask. At least he had the excuse of trying not to look happy about the banners. Said banners were now glowing with fairy dust, so bright he could see the light from his room. He didn't know when Mug (it had to have been him) had planned this, or what his game was, but the sight only made anxiety gnaw at his gut more.

He was screwed. Completely and utterly. And really, it was his fault. He'd let the Ashbornes' optimism override his fully justified paranoia. And now he was gonna pay the price, or the Ashbornes would.

I never wanted to stay here anyway. This is fine!

But it was working!

A pipe dream, nothing more!

But I was happy!

That thought struck him right in the throat. Had he been? He glanced at Mandy. She'd had to narrow her end of their link to keep his terror from overwhelming him, so they were fully out of contact. That was his thought, all right.

He couldn't think straight. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't do this. The witch stuffed himself back into his dress, and sheathed Mandy. A silent question glimmered in his head from her. "I don't know if I'm goin', but I gotta get out of here."

His bag was heavy with leftovers he'd been squirreling away for days under preservation spells. If he chose to bug out, he was as ready as he was gonna be. With twitching hands, he bypassed the window's lock, and slid it open.

He swallowed hard, formed his climbing spell, and clambered out the window. A tentacle from his back slid it shut silently— he'd greased it earlier this afternoon, just in case.

"Y'know, I really shoulda made a bet with sis."

The wolf bit back a yelp and almost fell right off. Just out of his window's eyeline, V hovered, arms crossed and eyebrow quirked. For a moment, they just kind of stared each other down.

"I needed some air." Timothy blurted.

She rolled her eyes. "With your bag?"

"It has snacks in."

"Right."

Okay, no. "Have you been watching my bedroom this whole time!?"

"You're way less subtle than you think, man." She flapped down to him. "Grab on. I wanna take you somewhere."

"I-I don't think..."

"Dude, come on." She floated closer. "You gonna cling to this wall all night or what?"

Well, couldn't argue with that. Where were you supposed to grab onto a lady dragon? Hesitantly, Timothy wrapped his arms around her neck. He musta guessed right, because she smiled and scooped him up in her arms.

"Hold on tight, shorty."

Then, she kicked off of the wall and flew off over town.

++++++

The first time he'd flown with V, he'd barely been conscious. All he really remembered was agony, the stink of blood, and hard, rough, scorched chitin. Now, Timothy couldn't stop blushing. V tucked him to her chest just like last time, but oh shadows— she was soft without her armor in the way. He'd lost his grip on her neck when she'd started rising, so his arms were wrapped around her thorax, er, abdomen, letting him feel every shift and flex of her muscles. His face felt hot enough to grill a steak on.