Fly

Chapter 4

Naturally, I did the most sensible thing; I ran into the nearest alley. 

Dodging behind a large dumpster, I paused between two piles of trash bags, shivering and wondering what on earth I had just seen. I flexed my hand again, marveling that there wasn't even a faint twinge of pain left from the wound that I had so recently sustained. I didn't wonder for long, though, as the chilly wind seemed to rip right through me. I knew that I might die in this weather, with nothing on but my skin. I could feel that flame-like feeling deep in my belly, but it was fading in the face of the relentless spring breeze, which at night was still certainly below freezing. I stood there, arms wrapped tight over my chest, trying to think of what to do. I glanced around, wondering desperately if there was anything in the alleyway I could use for some kind of shelter. If I could just get out of the wind, I knew my chances of surviving would improve considerably.

After a moment, I made out a pile of old rags across the alleyway, heaped inside a large overturned cardboard box. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized as I stumbled across the uneven pavement, that I could still see almost perfectly despite how dark and gloomy the alleyway was. 

When I reached the box, I glanced around swiftly, thankful that there were so few people out on a night like this, and knelt, gasping as the freezing skin of my thighs touched my chest when I reached in to grab the first thing I could find - a huge t-shirt with a mostly intact front, but almost no back to speak of. I threw it over my head, thankful that it at least reached past all my most vulnerable bits, and hugged it to my body, already feeling slightly warmer. I bent over again, peering into the box, then leaped back with a startled yell that was almost a scream. A pair of eyes stared at me out of the remaining rags, which stirred as the person - I could see that it was a man - shifted, almost as startled as I was. The gray orbs that seemed almost to glow to my enhanced vision squinted a little, then widened, taking in my near-naked state. His mouth opened, and he looked around, probably trying to see if I was with anyone.

"Are you okay?" His voice was surprisingly smooth, and gentle. He shifted again, scooting to one side in the cavernous box that was apparently his home. "I won't hurt you, but you're going to seriously injure yourself if you stay out in the cold like that. I don't mind sharing, and I can leave if you want and find another spot." He held out a tattered sweatshirt that looked more like a rag. In the dark, I couldn't tell much more than that it was in the red family, and had a very faded design of some kind on the front. And it was huge. I grabbed it, throwing it over my head and leaving the hood up, feeling instantly warmer as the thick fabric draped almost to my knees. Then, I considered my dubious rescuer for a moment, before bending back down and crawling into the box with him. After all, I gave a mental chuckle, if he tries anything, I can always turn into a dragon and roast him. 

I curled up on one side, and the man piled as many rags as I would allow over me, covering me in a somewhat patchy, but surprisingly warm, blanket. I shook my head when he tried to add them all, though, and threw some back over him. He seemed surprised, then shrugged and burrowed into his own makeshift bed, resting his head on a pair of ratty shoes that I guessed were what he used in the day.

Somewhere during the process of getting settled, two things had happened; first, I had stopped shivering, that inner heat stoking itself with every scrap of cloth that was added. The second was that I had made up my mind to stay the night. I didn't figure I would find anywhere better, not knowing where I was and without even a set of clothes, let alone some money, to help me. I couldn't turn back into a dragon and try again, not in this fog. I still wasn't sure that I wasn't having some kind of screwy dream, but the pain from my injury, the thrill of flight, and the ever-biting cold were things that wouldn't have been there if it was. 

I looked up suddenly at my rescuer, and we locked eyes. I smiled at him, and put one arm cautiously out of the 'blankets' again, reaching over to shake his hand awkwardly - especially since we were only about a foot apart in the cramped space. "Hi. I'm Fiona."

He chuckled and shook my hand, a grin showing off some surprisingly perfect teeth. I had always thought homeless people had missing or stained teeth, and though his breath did smell rather stale, I had honestly thought that it would be much worse. "Nice to meet you, Fiona. I'm Dane. I'm sorry I don't have anything better to offer than this..." He trailed off, his happy expression becoming troubled.

I shrugged, the frayed end of a shirtsleeve flopping over my face from somewhere in the pile. Annoyed, I flipped it back up, but it just fell right back down again, landing like a gentle hand on the crown of my head. I sighed, and decided to ignore it. An amused look was back on Dane's face. "It's no problem," I assured him, "I thought I was going to die out there."

He looked questioningly at me, but didn't press me, despite the strangeness of the situation I was in. It occurred to me that he had probably seen stranger, living on the streets of one of the largest cities in the world.

I closed my eyes, letting the heat wash out the last of the cold pins and needles at the tips of my fingers and toes. Then I opened them again, and found Dane still looking at me curiously. "Oh, and Dane?"

"Hm?" He perked up.

"Thank you." I closed my eyes again, and was asleep before I could hear his reply.

_________

A/N a day late, (or maybe a little more, sorry) but hopefully not a dollar short. Previous readers will of course recognize our homeless friend, but keep it on the shush side for the moment. Wouldn't want to leave spoilers in the comments that I'll have to go delete, now, would you?