Familiar Strangers

*

Strange. The first word she'd use to describe him. Probably the same went for him. How they met was strange as well. "Strangers who think each other as strange, meeting strangely in a strange place." She said aloud.

The girl giggled, earning a sidelong glance from him. She felt the young man's eyes on her - grey-blue irises, full of questions, but knowing he may never have the answers.

They continued their path through the forest. Their routine every weekend, it seems. At first, she came back just to thank him. A week later, she was In the area running errands and had to find cover for the rain. The week after that, she simply came on a whim. Their meetings continued. How many times had it been? There are four weeks in a month...

"Forty -five? Forty -seven?" she asked. "Hey, we've met for almost a year now." She laughed as he stared curiously at her. "Auntie says we have to remember the people in our lives, so that's why we have parties like birthdays and an.. annif.. vary? Haha! I don't know how to say the word." Another curious stare.

They reached the edge. He parted the branches in the way with an arm for her to pass. Before, he went through himself and the branches smacked her down. He had a hard time stopping her cries.

The girl lingered in the shadow of a tree, not passing through just yet. "I'll bring a cakes or muffins next time to celebrate, okay?"

"Okay." One of the few words he somewhat grasped the meaning of.

"Okay, " She laughed lightheartedly again. "See you next week, Slate." She sprinted past him, toward the stone pathway back to the park's sole entrance and exit. Halfway to the stone path, she looked back to see him still standing near the branches.

He waved. A gesture she once taught him that meant goodbye. He saw her smile and watched her run along the stone path until the trees blocked his line of sight.

He stepped back into the shadow of the trees, pulling his arm back from the branches. With the light of the sun filtered by the leaves, he studied his arm. The blanched markings on his sable skin terrified the other passersby who caught him off guard. Fortunately, he had enough strength to turn into a magpie each time they came back with others, sometimes with scary objects. He didn't know what we're they talking about, but he was certain they were in search of him.

The grown ones were scared of him, but the small girl smiled and laughed around him, even shared food with him. Small ones, he decided, are nice. "Nice." He said softly. Another word she had taught him. He didn't understand most of what she says, but understood when she said it had been a year. It seemed to make her happy. She did smile.

She also said something about muffins. He remembered the small, fluffy food. Would she bring the flat, round ones next time? Cookies? She shared many different kinds of food with him. He only had berries and sometimes nuts the fluffy rats leave behind to give -well, to take and give - to her.

Once, in his avian form, he managed to get a muffin from somewhere with a lot of muffins and other fluffy food. It was pretty, but she didn't smile. He had to return it, startling many of the grown ones. When he made it back to her, she smiled again. "Don't do it again, okay, Slate?"

Caw!

Two dark masses of feathers flew past above him. Quickly, he turned into a bird himself. He made it up the nearest tree when two grown ones came out. The rounder one shouted at the taller one, who scratched his head. They both had those shiny black long things and wore green. After more shouts from the round one, they left.

Hidden up in the leaves, he turned back into a young man. He leaned against the bark, tired from the sudden use of his energy. He could have easily beat them even in his weakened state. But harming anything or anyone isn't nice, Slate.

Am I nice? Slate wondered.

*