The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Free as a Bird

Lark, just ahead of Able, had regained a bounce in his step as they'd carried on through the forest. Though still in the black outfit, all the menace of the Shadow was gone from this figure skipping over exposed roots...and now even humming to himself. Able shook his head and chuckled.

"Something funny?" Lark lightly pivoted to walk backward for a few steps.

"You, though maybe not funny, exactly." Able smiled at Lark's dubious look. "It's just that...everything that's happened, happening right now with the—the aftermath of the town hall fire, and you're still cheerful as a songbird."

"Able, I'm as free as a songbird," he replied with sudden sobriety and turned to march forward. "I can be as I see fit and do as I see fit, come and go as I please, and no one has the power to stop me. That's why I do this. Everyone should get to be as free as I am."

"A pretty sentiment, but not exactly true, is it?" Able earned an over-the-shoulder glare but persisted, "From what I've seen, the Sons of Justice have a sizable say in where and when you go."

Lark's gaze retreated within himself, raising Able's hope that perhaps he didn't quite remember what he had and had not revealed the day in the cemetery. But then he shrugged and chuckled. "I should have expected you'd get pedantic about it. We gonna start a debate on whether accepting influence from others constitutes a loss of freedom?"

"No need." Able smiled in spite of himself. "I am satisfied drawing that line at power to compel."

"The Sons do not compel me." Lark put on a scowl that turned sheepish. "They're just...pretty persuasive. Sometimes. A lot. Anyway, they didn't want me to join the Resistance, as I said, but I did, didn't I? So there."

"You didn't say, but I inferred as much."

Lark screwed his face up at that and squinted at Able in suspicion. Damn.

Able continued as conversationally as he could, "Do they lend the Borealunders more aid than just the mole?"

"It's not very friendly of you to try to get me in trouble like this."

Able raised his eyebrows. "An unlikely concern from a free man. You've been feeding me tidbits of information all along; I don't see what's stopping you now."

Lark faced forward again. "I just don't like to fight with them more than I have to."

"From a sailfish's perspective, he may feel he is doing well, whenever he catches some slack on the line, but it still came at the angler's prerogative. After all, he's not the one with the hook in his mouth."

Lark turned back with his eyebrow raised. "Did fisherboy just compare me to a fish?"

"I—suppose it came a bit naturally, didn't it? Sorry."

"Oh no, it's a striking image, to be sure. I just didn't like it." He grinned. "You might even say it stuck in my craw."

"Oh, excellent!" Able laughed in sincere appreciation. "They must have lost their contacts in Dagobar since they didn't proceed with their plan once they'd found you again. Were they just lay low until a—"

"Houser," Lark interrupted firmly, "you don't know what you're talking about."

"...I'm trying to, though," Able admitted. "That's all I've been—"

"Fisherboy should know when it's time to stop fishing."

Able met Lark's gaze, still so gentle even when watching him so keenly. "...very well." He swallowed down his remaining questions.

Lark's firmness dissolved into an easy smile. "It's funny that you should call me a songbird though."

"Because you can't sing worth a damn?"