Hunter's Fowl; Starling

Really, I'm Phine.

"Then why haven't we tried yet?" I asked, almost wilting in exasperation.

"I didn't know if you were ready," she responded, almost equal in tone to mine.

We paused for a moment. "How do I know I can trust you if you have been hiding a secret that big from me all along?"

"Are you hiding anything from me?"

"Nothing important."

"Like what?"

"I'm the one who ate your salami from the fridge, not Ash."

"You? You monster..." she said, jokingly. "Admittedly, I wanted to have a bit of fun and Ash was the closest, so I blamed him, but I always suspected that was you."

This incident had happened in early July. I got hungry and no one was home, so I had the salami in the fridge. Not just a piece, but the whole thing. Then, when the Wolf came home, she noticed and gave my bookshelf that Ash sleeps by a scent that was supposedly "so close to the smell of wet dog but more powerful and vomit-inducing," to put it in Ash's words.

The Wolf liked having her revenge plots on Ash for whatever reason, and, since he does make fun a lot, I hate to say he kind of deserves it.

"You? Fun? Well, I never..."

"You know me. Ash and I have never had a healthy friendship. We kind of like bugging each other."

"So I've noticed..."

"Anyways, thank you to everyone who came, the butler will show you the way out. Have a nice afternoon!"

"Wolf?" I said, "It's 10:00. Not even lunch yet-"

"-much to Ash's dismay," she completed, trying hard not to smile.

"I was gonna say Taylor."

"Oh. That too."

And we laughed.

*****

When we arrived at the house, Ash was in the corner, buried in a scroll. Anyone else, and I'd have ignored it, but Ash only does that when something is of  importance to him.

"Ash... what's going on?"

"They want to see me..."

"Who?"

"Rrrrrrrr..."

Ash never talked about his family at his own will. He had been physically and mentally abused as a child and abandoned his parents to join the royal regiment of Serpentine when he was two (human years, of course). While he was with his parents, he sustained a myriad of injuries, the most prominent being from the one crossing his eye.

I have a scar in the same place- probably a coincidence.

"Why would they want to-"

"They claim they want to 'make amends.' As if they could after all they did to me."

"Send them here."

"They're already on here. I think they were brought to the prison where they're being restrained. This is an order for me to leave as you got back."

"I'll take you."

"Really? I don't think you want to meet them."

"I want to know who they are."

"Fine. Try..."

The prison was grim and grey- far cleaner and less bleak than the Serpentine prison. The guards sat outside the door. "Ash can go in. We can't risk it with you, Hunter."

"That's okay," I replied, "I'll wait here."

"Right." The larger of the two guards (a coyote) pulled the door open. I saw the two figures, healthy but obviously annoyed, and Ash went in.

I didn't go in but I pressed my ear against the wall and listened to them.

"Where have you been...?" said a female voice.

"Away," Ash replied.

A deeper male voice piped in, "Why did you leave?"

Ash was furious. "Why? Why did you do this to me!? I am a *wreck*— a failure! I have become an angry, stressed creature. Because of you."

"We kept you in line, you mean. You were such a troublemaker," said the female.

"Yes, But if you cut me, do I not bleed? I'm still a troublemaker, but now I am troubled, too. I'm the *troubled* troublemaker! You could have never done any of that to me, and I would have come out exactly the same."

"Exactly the same, huh? My goodness, if I hadn't taught you not to learn Aviauri, you'd know the language," his dad interjected.

Oh no... his parents had no idea about this part...

"I do," Ash replied, "I have had quite enough of this. Someone, let me out!"

"You speak... Aviauri?" I heard the voice get angrier and angrier with each syllable.

"*Ay'icia, Imé quere*," Ash said, "Why, yes, I do."

This was followed by a series of loud slams. I burst into the chamber and saw Ash, his tongue poking limply out of his mouth, and he was curled up in a corner. In the dark, I could smell iron, but I saw nothing. I just grabbed him and dragged him out of the room. He was cursing- his jaw had been struck and his lower right fang prominently stood out of his mouth. His underbite had been extended by a blow to his face and he seemed to have bitten his tongue with the impact.

"Really, I'm phine..." he said, lisping around his tongue and his teeth. "It doethent hurth that muth."

"I doubt that, somehow," I responded, "You're coming with me."

"Wheh a' we goink?"

"I'm taking you to a healer, and you're not arguing."