Saving F.

Chapter 4

Newt's return was appreciated by his creatures, and their joyful reception of him had caused his body to forget about its fatigue temporarily. The beasts were all hungry, so food was much welcome, but Newt had a hard time explaining himself to the ones that were sulking, especially Marcus the Sea Serpent whose gloomy mood was getting worse. Newt apologized to him profusely, and spent extra time by his side to make sure he had finished his food. Newt's intention of setting him free as soon as possible became more earnest, and until then he would do whatever it took to make Marcus feel better.

Another problem came when Newt reached the tree of the Bowtruckles and stood there to observe the tiny creatures. He had six of them, and because they were almost identical, the first one he had distinguished was the smallest of them, whom he called Pickett. He was the most timid, probably due to his size compared with his peers, and Newt had grown fond of him for that reason. He always felt a peculiar attraction towards the weak and the misunderstood, human and creature alike, and so a considerable portion of his attention was given to Pickett.

Soon the Bowtruckle warmed to Newt and it became easy to tell when he was being normally shy, or if something was wrong with him. This time it was the latter, as Newt noticed a difference in Pickett's demeanor and appearance that aroused his concern.

His little slit of a mouth was curved downwards, and a crease weighed down his black eyes in an unmistakable grimace. The twigs that formed his limbs were adducted to his trunk, diminishing his size even more and making him appear rigid. Even his leaves were pale with yellowing apices, and to top it all, his appetite had markedly decreased. He kept a distance from the others who seemed completely unbothered by that, and it was strange because Bowtruckles were known to stick together for warmth and protection.

"You poor thing," Newt said with sympathy, stroking Pickett's head, "they're bullying you, aren't they?"

Pickett whimpered. Newt turned to the other Bowtruckles and in the sternest tone he could muster said, "Titus, Finn, Poppy, Marlow and Tom. I am so disappointed in you, but know that I will no longer tolerate this type of behavior. Pickett will come with me, and when he's back to living with you, I expect a change in the way you treat him."

Gently, Newt picked up the Bowtruckle and placed him inside the pocket of his coat. "That will keep you warm. You'll be all right, Pickett."

Other than that, Newt didn't face any trouble worth mentioning. After two hours, he was done with feeding all his creatures and looking after them for the night. He left the suitcase and closed it, then out of thin air he conjured a small bed for himself. With his conscience finally at rest, Newt took off his coat, said good-night to Pickett, and in a matter of few minutes, he was fast asleep.

The sun rays that entered through the tattered curtains caressed Newt's face with their warmth and disturbed his slumber. When he awoke at last, he wasn't sure how many hours he had slept. It couldn't have been more than four hours, but how refreshed he felt made him initially think it had been more than that. But after all, it didn't really matter; he had enough energy for the long day awaiting him, and that was sufficient. With no other distracting problems left, rescuing the Thunderbird was now Newt's only priority, and he was going to work on it without further delay.

"Good morning, Pick," said Newt to the Bowtruckle as he wore his coat.

The Bowtruckle's head peered through the pocket, his tiny eyes blinking listlessly before he disappeared again behind the cloth.

Newt chuckled. A sudden rumble of his stomach reminded him that while he was busy thinking and worrying the night before, he hadn't eaten anything himself. He thought that Farida must be hungry as well, but he didn't know whether she was awake or not. He could leave the house and bring back food for her if she was still asleep, and if not, they could go together.