| Subject: an Awkward Conversation |
Author:
Michael, Jeffrey
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Date Posted: 07:39:21 05/26/05 Thu
Michael opened his eyes, and one of them immediately stung. He was surprised to discover sweat prickling his brow - a droplet had run into his eye - such had been the extent of his concentration to reach Cassiel. Cassiel his sister, the tall and fair, with her kind smile and gentle hands. He could not wait to meet her.
And they were on the way. Michael wanted to have a meal ready for them when they arrived. Phisto was waiting, tail swinging slowly from side to side, and an eager grin spread over his face.
"Alright then," Mike said, standing and slinging his bow over one shoulder. "My sisters are escaping and coming away to meet us. Lord Phisto, shall we go hunting?"
A moment later Mike was clutching the heavy fur of the Paw's shoulders as Phisto ran over the hills in search of prey. A spray of rain blew out of the north and felt cold and refreshing in Michael's skin; he grinned uncontrollably, caught up in the exhilarating speed and power of his mount and friend. They soon came upon a small herd of some creatures Michael did not recognize, but reminded him of deer. Phisto came to a halt - for Mike did not think he could shoot a moving target while he himself was moving - and with a speed and assurance that would have made Gabriel stare the boy whipped out an arrow and his bow sang in the thick, rainy afternoon light. The shot was straight and true (and Mike could not help but remember, with a swell of pride, his arrow that had met with the eye of the horrible gargoyle) and one of the creatures stumbled.
At a word from Phisto, Michael slid from the Paw's back and landed crouched in the grass, standing just in time to see his companion, a bright blur of speed, tackle another of the creatures. The boy ran forward, fitting another arrow, and felled the creature that he had wounded, and with this and Phisto's catch they made their way back to the little campsite beneath the trees.
Michael saw that Jeffrey was awake and tried to seem casual as he helped Negasi and Phisto clean the bodies of their prey. To his credit Jeff neither vomited nor looked away but watched with a distant, pale gravity that reminded Mike disturbingly of Gabriel in one of his quiet moods.
Negasi built a fire and Michael watched with fascination as the flames burst from the large paws and sat upon the bare cirle of ground, burning without fuel. The rain had retreated further north and a cool breeze swept the hills, but under the trees with the fire it was very pleasant, or so Michael thought, scratching his shoulder against the rough knobbled bark of the tree he was leaning against. Sitting down, the spread of the leaves was only a foot above his head, and the little grove gave the impression of a cave or a burrow, a safe place. And with Phisto standing sentry, Michael certainly felt safe.
"So," he said at last as the meat began to cook (a point of courtesy from the Silent Paw, who preferred their meals raw). "How's your head?" He was not sure whether to address Jeffrey by his name (a friendly gesture, and friends they were not, not yet), or as 'boy' (condescending, certain to worsen Jeff's mood), or 'rujho' (a close, warm familiarity he felt not at all comfortable with), and so he avoided the issue altogether.
"It's okay." Jeff looked away uncomfortably and there was an awkward pause. "Thanks for...um...dinner, I guess."
"Yeah. No problem." Michael cleared his throat and suddenly, absurdly, he felt like laughing; but fought down the urge quickly. "Hey, Cassiel and Raziel are coming. They're escaping and they're gonna stay with us. They're...you know...my sisters." He winced at his own cowardice.
"Sisters. Alright." Jeff wiped his forehead with his sleeve, looking morosely at the blood.
"Cassiel, she's a healer." Michael gestured to the wound. "She can help you."
"Oh, okay." Another pause. "How old are they?"
Michael smiled inwardly. "Cassiel is seventeen and Raziel is...twelve, I think. Or thirteen. I haven't seen them since I was very small. I mean, until Raziel came to see us."
Jeff frowned and opened and closed his mouth several times before finally speaking. "How...how many siblings?"
"Well, Gabriel is the oldest." Michael ticked the names off on his fingers. "And Azrael is his twin, but he is a betrayer. Kinslayer. Mad. Anyway, they're both twenty. Coming up on twenty-one, though. And then there's Cassiel, seventeen, and then...um...."
Jeff waved his hand and Mike went on.
"And then Raziel, and me - I'm almost eleven - and Dante. He's five. You...you're fifteen, right?"
"No." Jeff looked up in dull surprise. "Today...it's my birthday. I'm sixteen."
"Oh! Well, er, happy birthday." Mike smiled bravely.
Jeff looked away. "Thanks."
Another pause. "So...are you...okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"You just seemed to...take it kinda hard. I was just wondering," Mike added quickly, fiddling with a dead twig. "I man, it's a lot to have to deal with."
"Yeah. It is." But Jeff did not answer Michael's question.
Dinner was taken in silence.
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