Playing With Fire (EDITING)

Preparations and Painful Reminders

"Lyrica!" Han shouted, running toward us as we parked the four wheelers. "Where the heck have you been?!" Mum was close behind him, running as well, but not looking as angry. When he reached me, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me a little. "Tell us next time before you leave!"

I stared between them with wide eyes, unsure why Han was flipping out. "We're fine, I swear. Nothing happened."

"She's lying," I heard Natasha's voice behind me. My acute hearing noticed that her footsteps were accompanied by Clint's on the crunchy leaves. Did they go anywhere without the other?

"Says who?" I rounded on her, arms crossed.

"Says aggressive posture, defensive attitude, narrowed pupils, and tense shoulders," she rattled off, circling me. "As well as someone told us you'd gone off to the bridge that was marked closed."

I rolled my eyes. "So what? We came back without a scratch."

"She has a point, Han. Lay off," Clint said quietly from behind me to my right. "No harm, no foul."

Han backed off and nodded, exhaling deeply. "Yeah. Fine. But Mr. Bates would like to see all of you in his tent. As well as Clint and Natasha."

I nodded and we started for the tent we had visited yesterday. The flaps were closed but not tied, so the breeze lifted the flaps and played with the edges of the colorful fabric. "Ah, good afternoon," Mr. Bates greeted us with a flourish and a bow. "I must discuss a topic of weight with you all." He paused for suspense, leaning forward from the waist and eyeing us each in turn with those crazy mismatched eyes. "The show," he said, standing erect once again and spinning on heel. "Clint and Natasha, if you would."

My uncle looked toward Natasha and they exchanged a non-verbal conversation before he set an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He moved aside her hair to whisper in her ear and pulled away again, smirking. A sly smile crept its way onto her face and she shook her head. Why not? he mouthed. She punched his arm like she couldn't believe him and led the way into the tent. The flap closed behind them and they disappeared from sight.

Sinking onto the ground, I sat cross legged and plucked some long blades of grass. I clearly recalled mon Pére's voice teaching me to plait grass into a strong weave: It's the best makeshift rope you'll ever find. Saved my life more than once, would ya know. I added pieces to the plait until it was thick but flexible and could hold the weight of a small horse. Maybe I could use it later for something? Eh, maybe not, I decided, pulling it apart again and shredding the grass blades into confetti.

"Whatcha doin'?" Kurt said, kneeling beside me.

I dumped a handful of grass confetti in his hair and laughed as it spilled down his forehead. "Nothing now," I replied.

"I can see that," he muttered, using both hands to brush the grass out of his curls. When most of it had fallen back onto the ground, he stretched and laid on his back. "How long are we waiting for?" he asked.

Just as I opened my mouth, the flap was pushed aside and Natasha and Clint left. "Not long at all," I told him, rising to my feet.

"Ugh, seriously!" he complained. "I just got comfortable!"

"Up!" I commanded, holding out a hand. He accepted and I helped him to his feet. I hooked my elbow through Kurt's and dragged him along into the ringmaster's tent. Mr. Bates greeted us exuberantly with a broad smile and an arm across his chest as he dipped into a slight bow.

Kurt shot me a look that mocked Bates' expression, and I stifled a laugh. "Sit, sit, please. I encourage that my friends be relaxed as they consider what lies ahead," the man said, gesturing widely to the folding chairs in front of his desk. As the six of us took seats and got comfortable, Mr. Bates sat across us in his own folding chair and began to speak. I'd heard most of it before, so I tuned out his ecstatic voice and capriccioso inflections and let my mind wander.