Dreaded Creatures Glide

So sorry about the deleted and then reposted chapter. There turned about to be a bunch of things that I missed and had to fix, so I just took the whole thing down. Is better now! Please tell me if there are any more screw-ups.

Thanks for waiting so patiently, everyone! Please go here to check out awesome new fanart: http://lambentfiction.livejournal.com/3094.html.

But how many find the courage to look deepest in their heart
To find a dream they can follow till they fall
And when my heart cries out to wander I can hear him
Answering the call
-- Ewen and the Gold, Brian McNeill

It was the kind of morning that made women sing and horses feel their oats. The sky was an energetic blue, the weather clement, and all the lands were flush with summer. Charles was pleased to be out for once, dressed in comfortable riding attire, rather than stuck in some silly meeting with his father’s fawning attendants. He was even shockingly unaccompanied today, with only his bodyguard Magnus and his father’s toadying manservant Simon to accompany him. Charles had tried to make his father let him go only with Magnus, since the man was fiercely loyal and would never dare disobey any of Charles’ orders, but his father had insisted Simon accompany them.

Simon had not shut up since.

“Such a beautiful day, Your Highness. I was just remarking to your esteemed father the other day that ever since he has taken the throne Tierney’s summers have become more and more pleasing with each passing year. Come to think of it, it reminds me of the days I spent in a choir as a youth.” And then, to Charles’ horror, he began to sing, “Ah, fair land of my fathers, so lovely and green, most beautiful land I e’er have se—”

“Stop that!” Charles snapped, and Simon looked at him askance. “If you cannot keep your counsel to yourself, go home. If I had wanted useless chatter I would have stayed inside.”

“As you wish, Young Highness,” Simon snipped, and Charles struggled not to roll his eyes. Simon had been a servant of the king for longer than Charles had been alive, and from time to time mistakenly believed it gave him some sort of seniority over Charles.

They rode on in silence for a while, and Charles enjoyed the warm summer air, tilting his face to the sun. To his left Simon sulked, and to his right Magnus glowered at the shrubbery as though it might attack at any moment.

Simon, naturally, had to ruin everything: “By your leave, Highness, perhaps we should be turning back soon.”

Charles scowled at him, and promptly turned Ginger towards the part of the garden that was least manicured. Simon had no say over his actions, and he was going to prove that once and for all. Simon was far too foppish to ever enjoy anything that remotely resembled a natural landscape, and Charles took silent satisfaction from his disgust. The woods were pleasant: cooler than the meadows, and filled with filtered sunlight and birdsong. He aimed for nowhere in particular, but found himself thinking that they would reach the merman’s pool eventually, if they kept up this track.

It had been weeks since he had gone to the merman’s pool. As he had after the first time he saw the merman, he dreamt of the creature for days afterward, of the staring eyes and flashing fins. He had intended to return as soon as possible, but his father had been loath to let him go unguarded after the incident. He knew nothing of Charles’ brush with the creature, of course, but could hardly stand to let Charles out of his sight, never mind on his own for hours at a time.

“Highness,” said Magnus, interrupting the silence. Magnus’ voice was low and gruff; he did not speak often. Charles turned to him, giving him leave to speak. “Someone has come by here. Recently. On foot.”

Charles frowned. There were no guards this way, and gardeners only went by the path. Who would risk royal wrath for a stroll in the gardens? Thieves, maybe? Or even lovers, if they were particularly foolish. Or perhaps…

The one who had made the ball for the merman! He must have come back!

Charles twisted in his saddle, scanning the trees for sign of the man. There was nothing. He descended from his horse, and Magnus and Simon quickly followed suite. “Do you see any other tracks?” he asked Magnus in a hushed voice.

Magnus looked confused, and did a cursory inspection of the nearby grounds. “None, Highness. But there are the beginnings of a path here. My guess is someone has walked through here often.”

Charles ran his hand through his hair, feeling excitement build inside him. He had dismissed the ball eventually – the merman could have received it from a guard back at Uncle Horace’s, or even stolen it off of one of the people he had killed. The fact that he had a ball, and knew how to play with it, had not necessarily meant someone had been visiting him at the pool.

But he had known, deep inside himself, that there was someone. Someone who had approached the merman bravely, and taught him not to kill but to play. Someone who had not flinched or run when faced with what could be certain death. A warrior, most likely, scarred and experienced, who had seen enough battle that he could look death in the eye without flinching.

“Let’s go,” he said, and set off for the pool on foot.

Magnus was clearly unhappy with the decision, but immediately moved to follow. Simon, however, nearly squawked in dismay. “But your *Highness!* We cannot proceed on *foot!* The indignity alone is unthinkable, and to leave the horses would be most imprudent.”

“The horses will be fine and so will we,” Charles snapped, now set on teaching Simon a lesson. “I refuse to have my actions dictated on my own estate.” He turned and set a smart pace for the merman’s pool. Simon could do nothing but obey, although Charles could practically feel the man’s indignation.

They reached the pool soon enough, and Charles came to a stop before he stepped out onto the marble surroundings. He scanned the waters, as much as he could see that wasn’t blocked by the rocks or distance, and saw only uninterrupted waters. For one horrifying moment Charles was sure that no one was there, and he had led Simon on a wild goose chase that the man would surely never shut up about until the end of time.

And then there was a splash. And another. And a peal of laughter that was definitely human.

Charles grinned, and stepped forward, only to be caught up by Magnus’ grip on his arm. He turned and scowled. “What?”

“I beg your pardon, Highness,” said Magnus, sounding like a man unused to platitudes, “But I would never forgive myself if the merman were to attack you and I had done nothing.”

“Nonsense. He won’t hurt me.” Charles realized that he was about to give away the fact that he had been here before, and stopped himself. He settled for looking arch.

Magnus seemed confused, and said gruffly, “At the very least let me go first, Highness. I would rather the merman killed me than you.”

“The merman’s not going to kill anybody,” Charles snapped. He gestured to where the noise was coming from. “Can you not hear that? He’s – he’s *playing* with a *human.*”

Magnus still looked confused, and Simon, for once, looked like he didn’t know what to say. Charles threw up his hands and stepped out onto the marble. He heard Magnus and Simon shuffling after him.

He was surrounded by idiots.

He walked as quietly as he could, but he needn’t have worried, for the scene that greeted him was one that took no notice of its surroundings.

There was indeed a human in the deep end of the pool, splashing and laughing as the merman – the wild creature famed for his lethal speed and teeth – did circles about him like an excited puppy, tickling his feet. The boy – for he was at most a young man, and not a scarred veteran in the least – pulled at the merman, finally, and the merman broke the surface with a joyful, bestial noise.

“By the gods,” said Magnus, uncharacteristically talkative, and Charles spared a glance at him. That was when he realized Simon was no where to be seen. Charles cursed, and scowled at Magnus. That sniveling idiot had almost certainly gone running back to the castle, which meant that Charles had limited time.

And then he noticed Charles and his entourage standing at the edge of the pool, and froze.

The boy quickly caught on to the merman’s distress, and turned, still half-smiling. Charles watched as all color and expression left him, and he looked at his liege lord with blank horror. The moment stretched out as Charles stared at the boy, and the boy stared at Charles from beneath a sopping mop of hair. This was the fierce warrior who had done the unthinkable and tamed the merman. Charles had considered himself brave to even approach the pool, and this man – this *boy* -- was flouncing about in the water as though he had been born in it!

It was the merman who broke the silence. He spoke two syllables in his high and incomprehensible tongue, and then grabbed the boy and whisked him away to the other side of the pool. Even pulling a full grown human the merman’s movements seemed effortless, his tail pumping with seeming laziness as he glided through the water.

“Well don’t just stand there, Magnus, get him!” Charles yelled, and Magnus snapped out of his apparent reverie and ran to the other side of the pool, where the merman had lifted the sopping young man up and out of the pool. He rounded on the boy, and Charles watched, seemingly frozen, as the boy backed towards the pool, eyeing Magnus’ blade. Behind him, the merman thrashed the waters agitatedly and reached out for the boy, apparently regretting his decision to help him onto land.

Charles approached that end of the pool, standing next to Magnus, who awaited his orders with sword drawn. “Come here,” he ordered the youth imperiously, making sure his voice was more level than before.

“Please, Highness, I meant no harm.” The young man was obviously frightened, but he did not use that craven whisper Charles so hated to hear in his supplicants. He spoke clearly, if humbly. He was so young. He had the frame of a man, and his limbs were ropey with muscle, but he had not yet broadened into manhood. His sopping wet clothes were simple and dull, and his hair was lamentably messy. And yet, despite everything, he stood upright, daring to look Charles in the eye.

And for all that he was clearly nothing but a lowly servant, he was quite comely.

“I beg your forgiveness, Highness,” said the young man. He spoke like a servant. A low servant, for he was dressed too poorly to be one who worked inside. He was not even a soldier, or a guard. He was nothing!

“How did you do it?” Charles asked, feeling his voice grow tight with anger. The young man stepped back at that, and Charles barely realized that he had stepped forward in his anger.

“Do what, Highness?” asked the youth, his voice showing a little more fear in his confusion. Behind him, the merman grew stone still, his flat blue eyes locked on them, his deceptively beautiful mouth flattened into a hard line.

“How did you tame him?” It had been this damned boy who had done it, after all. Charles had thought himself so clever to have done what no man had yet done – to have faced the merman unscathed. But it had all been the work of this boy, this poor, lowborn rag of a *child.*

“Please, Highness, I didn’t mean to do anything.” He spoke faster now, his words tumbling over each other. “I fell into the pool, back when he was back at His Grace’s. The guards had – they were chasing me, because – I hadn’t done anything, but they were after me, and it was night and I just fell in, and Kai – that is, the merman… saved me.”

Kai? The boy had *named* him? “You expect me to believe that nonsense?” Charles was nearly bellowing now. “You were skulking about Uncle’s estate, then, thieving more like, and you expect me to believe that he simply took a *shine* to you?” Charles grabbed the boy’s soaking collar, ready to demand the truth, when suddenly everything changed. One moment he was standing by the pool, about to shake the truth out of him, and the next he was bowled over by what seemed like a wall of muscle. He hit the ground hard enough to lose his breath, and struggled frantically at the wet, snarling monster that was grappling with him.

He cried out, or tried to. He couldn’t breath. All of his extensive tutoring came to naught, here. The merman did not fight at all like a gentleman, snarling and snapping his teeth, his strange blue hands gripping hard enough to make him cry out. He could hear Simon shrieking, and Magnus cursing as he grappled with the merman, who shrieked at him in that unearthly, incomprehensible tongue.

“Kai, stop!” he heard the servant yell, and suddenly the weight on him was gone. He backed away ungainly, gasping wretchedly, and saw that the servant had pulled the monster away. The boy was looking at him with frantic worry. “I’m so sorry, Highness. He’s only doing it because he doesn’t – no, Kai, stop!”

Magnus had rounded on the merman, sword drawn. The merman, for all that he was on land, and thus forced to face Magnus propped up awkwardly on his elbows, seemed just as ready for a fight. His eyes were predatory slits, and he welcomed Magnus with teeth bared as he snarled and hissed. Even on land he lashed his tail, swiping at Magnus awkwardly. But Charles remembered with sudden clarity one of the tales his excited uncle had told him about the merman: even wounded and out of the water, he had killed a sailor with one blow of his terrible tail. The thought made him freeze, terrified and yet fascinated. On land the merman seemed such a ridiculous, impossible creature, and yet it was obvious that even out of the water he was horribly dangerous. Already now he had Magnus on the ground, and was scrambling to tear out his neck. Charles couldn’t move. What could he do?

But the boy approached the merman with barely a second thought, and seemed far more frightened of Magnus, who was cursing and struggled as he tried to prevent the merman from snapping his neck. “Kai!” the boy repeated, his voice surprisingly demanding. The merman seemed to pause at that. Magnus, wisely, froze as well. With a strange, clicking growl, the merman let go of Magnus and backed off slightly, maneuvering awkwardly with his hands.

Charles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He stood up, willing his knees not to shake. Magnus did the same, his eyes trained warily on the merman. He was bleeding from several bites, but looked all right on the whole. The boy crouched by the merman, and stared first as Magnus and then at Charles. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Charles almost snorted at the idea that he would damage his uncle’s gift. His father would have a fit. But he caught himself, and said instead, “Hand yourself over and I won’t need to… You have my word,” he added when the boy looked doubtful. It galled him unbearably to parley so with a commoner, but he contented himself with the fact that he had the boy trapped now.

The boy did look torn for a moment. But then he sighed, and moved to rise, only to be caught up by the merman’s grip on him. The creature that had been so terrifyingly raging only a moment before now seemed… worried.

“It’s all right, Kai. You’ll be all right.” He smiled, then, of all things, and said a few words Charles found entirely incomprehensible. Charles knew many languages of the realm, of course, but he did not recognize a single word. The merman responded, however, with his own unintelligible language, and then let go.

The boy rose, trembling only a little, and bowed his head. Charles was momentarily at a loss. The boy’s very existence was an insult, and his father could not know about him. Simon might have heard someone, but he had not seen the boy, and above all Charles wanted no one to see him. Jailing him was out of the question, then, and killing him would mean a body to get rid of. Magnus could be trusted with such a thing, perhaps, but…

“Let’s go,” he said, to give himself time to think. They turned back and began to return to where they had left the horses. Magnus kept his sword trained on the boy, although he frequently glanced back at the merman, who had not moved. Charles himself could not help but look back as they neared the trees, and he saw that the merman was still looking at them, his head arched proudly and his eyes piercing. He shrieked something as Charles looked back, high and haunting. The boy stumbled slightly at the sound, and while Charles managed not to flinch, he did not look back again.

They reached the horses too quickly for his liking. Only Ginger and Magnus’ horse remained, which reminded Charles that his father’s men would likely be looking for him.

“Father will have sent a search party. Stay here and I’ll find them,” he said as commandingly as he could. Fear from the encounter with the merman still fluttered through him, making his heart race and his tongue trip.

“Highness,” assented Magnus, even more terse than usual. Charles half expected him to try to insist that he should accompany Charles, but he only gave his customary nod to acknowledge Charles’ order. His gaze was still trained on the boy, who had not spoken. The youth seemed resigned to his fate.

Charles rode off quickly.

He found his father’s men quickly. Charles saw that Father himself had not come – he was too busy for that, of course – but Ector, captain of the royal guard, rode with ten men, and was accompanied by Simon. He was riding at the back of the line, naturally, but shouting orders at Ector as though their places had been switched. Charles hailed them easily enough.

“Are you well, Highness?” Ector asked, as he and his men dismounted so that they could bow.

“Yes, of course. My man has taken a few injuries, but nothing serious.” Charles said nothing about the boy. His mind was racing. What had Simon told them? He could think of no way to make out the situation anything other than what it was, and ran his hand through his hair in exasperation as they neared the spot where Charles had left Magnus. This whole affair had been too humiliating. He kept seeing the boy in his mind: his happiness in the pool, his fear at seeing Charles, the way he had leapt so fearlessly at the merman, and how he had hovered over him as though the merman had been the helpless youth and he the powerful creature. Most of all he saw the boy’s drawn, resigned face, surprisingly old on such a young man. He steeled himself to face it again.

But there was only Magnus, standing by his horse’s head, looking not at all as if he had just lost his sole, unarmed charge. Charles found he could say nothing.

“Highness, Captain,” Magnus greeted them, bowing to Charles and Ector in turn. Charles glared at him, trying to communicate, but Magnus was studiously avoiding his gaze.

“Are you deathly wounded, Magnus?” Ector asked sharply.

“No, Captain. The bites are deep but not fatal.”

“Then why did you not attend His Highness when he rode?” Ector sounded genuinely confused.

Charles realized that without the captive boy, it did look strange. “I told him to stay here,” Charles cut in. “He’s not a very good rider even when he isn’t wounded. He would only have slowed me down.”

Ector was bound to accept even a lame excuse from his prince. “Very well, Highness, but he is here for your protection. I beg you not to abandon him so lightly in the future.”

Charles knew this was only the beginning of many long, drawn out lectures he’d get on his behavior, but he found himself relieved. Everything had still gone wrong, obviously: Simon would crow for weeks over this, he had nearly died at the hands of a wild beast, and the boy was somehow gone. And yet, it was far easier not to have to do something with the boy. He longed to speak to Magnus alone and demand to know where the boy had gone, but he also could not find it in him to fault Magnus for losing him.

88888

Far Seer had not swum this many circles since he had left the white pool. The sunshine, which had seemed such a blessing after the cavelike captivity of the white pool, now beat down on him. He swam faster to escape it, splashing water everywhere, as though going faster could make him forget Kee-Kee.

Kee-Kee was not coming back. He was sure of it, now. Much of the events that had happened had confused him, but he knew that much, at least.

The day had started out so perfectly. Kee-Kee had taken to coming into the water more and more, and that day Far Seer had been unable to resist pulling him in. He had regretted it immediately, because maybe Kee-Kee wouldn’t want to get his clothes wet and maybe he didn’t want Far Seer to touch him like that and he didn’t want to make Kee-Kee scared like that ever again. But Kee-Kee had laughed and splashed him and Far Seer had been so happy.

He had been surprised when the other human had showed up, but not necessarily displeased. The other human, which his pretty light hair and blue eyes, had been charming in his own way, and he had thought the two of them could be friends. It had been the guard who had made him wary, because guards were enemies to Far Seer and Kee-Kee both.

And then it had been the pretty human who had started to attack Kee-Kee, and Kee-Kee had not fought back. Far Seer had thought he was afraid, and was determined to protect Kee-Kee even if it meant pitching himself out of the water. But Kee-Kee had told him to stop. Far Seer had been confused then, thinking that perhaps he had misread the situation, and it had been only the guard who was the problem. But Kee-Kee had stopped him from killing the guard, too, even though Far Seer was about to do it. Far Seer had been sorry again, because now he had hurt two of Kee-Kee’s friends, and Kee-Kee had sounded so sad when he talked to Far Seer. Far Seer had wanted to apologize so much, because Kee-Kee was upset, Kee-Kee was sad, and the other human had looked so frightened. He had felt awkward and stupid and foreign and ashamed to have done so wrong.

But then Kee-Kee had walked off with the guard pointing a weapon at him, and Far Seer had known suddenly that he had not been wrong. Maybe the pretty human was an enemy and maybe it was only the guard, but Far Seer knew with absolute certainty that he had been a fool to let Kee-Kee walk away. “Kee-Kee!” he had called out, wishing desperately that he had not let Kee-Kee out of the water, out of his arms. But Kee-Kee had gone, and now he was alone.

He was tired of it. He was tired of everything. He didn’t eat now, didn’t sleep, but spent all of his days lashing around the pool. The guards were back now. He could hear them milling about in the trees, lowing like sea cows. Maybe the Watcher would be back too, to spend his days staring at Far Seer as though Far Seer were a pretty shell.

The human world had seemed so exciting, once. Far Seer remembered the way his friends used to tease him for thinking about it. His name itself had come from his need to travel, to see things no one else had seen, to explore what lay beyond. All it had gotten him was a cage.

He was tired of this stale water. No amount of clever human tricks could disguise the fact that this was not the sea. There were no waves to buffet him, to challenge him or cradle him, no creatures to play with besides the dumb fish he was supposed to eat. There were no smells or sights or sounds that tantalized him.

Kee-Kee had done all of that. Kee-Kee had been his adventure, had made all of this bearable. Kee-Kee had been his way to learn things no merman had ever learned. Far Seer had always accepted that his was a lonely life, but Kee-Kee had changed all of that. Kee-Kee, for all that he had been human, and could say only a few words in the merfolk tongue, was his friend.

“We were the same, once,” his mother had said, so long ago. Far Seer had marveled at it then, that the merfolk could once have looked like humans, or the other way around. It had seemed impossible, like all the other strange wonders he had heard about the human world. But he understood it now. Humans could be strange and frightening and grotesque, but they could also be kind and generous and trustworthy.

Kee-Kee had been those things, and Far Seer had lost him. Kee-Kee had but to walk away from the water, and Far Seer could not follow. He could not protect Kee-Kee, no matter how urgent the danger. He was trapped here, his need for the sea binding him better than any chain, and he would never get Kee-Kee back.

The thought made him leap out of the water with a savage cry, as though the water itself had planted that thought in his head. He landed hard on the hot rock, the same way he had landed when Kee-Kee had come to meet him. That thought comforted him in a way, and he fancied that the rock still smelled of Kee-Kee, that fascinating human smell of dirt and plants and any number of things Far Seer could only guess at.

Far Seer looked at himself. Never before had he hated what he saw. He had always been proud of his strength and his speed. He had laughed at the humans’ silly limbs, thinking that it was infinitely better to have a fine tail such as his. But now the tail seemed useless, pathetic. He smacked his fins against the rock, reveling in the pain that vibrated up his body. He writhed this way for a few terrible moments, as though he were a fish that could not breathe air. He flailed until he was exhausted, and then he lay back, hearing only his own gasping.

The sun was pleasant enough at first. Like most of his kind Far Seer liked to sun when he had the chance, floating on the surface of the sea and taking in the light. But he didn’t want to feel good. He wanted the sun to bleach him of his thoughts, of the ache inside him. He wanted it to dry his memories out of him, to free him of his pathetic cage. The rock beneath him was hot and dry and the sun began to beat down on him, searing his eyes and making his head ache. He wanted it. He wanted to be drained of the sea that kept him trapped here, pacing in circles until madness took him. He refused to succumb to it. He would die first.

The summer days were long, and by the time night fell he was dry and tired. But it was not enough, and he hated that the night was dark and cool and quiet. In the dark he had to think, had to miss Kee-Kee, and the sea ran from his eyes. But then the sun returned, making him feel blank and empty once more. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth as though the sunshine were rain that he could drink his fill of.

He had survived on the human ship for several days without water, and he knew it would take a long time before the sea left him. It would be a long time before hunger gnawed at him unbearably, before thirst started to tear at him and the dryness made his skin crack and bleed. He would dry slowly, like bones on the beach. He accepted it. He could wait. He had nothing but time.

88888

A week later Terry plucked mint leaves and waited to die. It had been so easy to accept it in those few short moments before he gave himself up to the prince. He was going to face it without flinching, without running away, his last way to take back what the guards had stolen from him. It had seemed simple. Kai had saved his life once, and that had been the way to save Kai. Walking with the guard to his death had been easy. He had felt numb save for that one painful moment when Kai had called after him. But he had told himself that he had been doing the right thing, and had not turned back. But then the prince had left them, and the guard had said, “Go quickly.”

“What?” Terry had been unable to believe his ears.

“You saved my life. Go,” the guard had repeated tersely, and Terry had done it. He had run away again, nearly as blindly as that first time. He had run all the way back to the garden, his clothes nearly dry by then, and had sat down in the dirt and sobbed and shuddered with all the fear he had not let out before.

Everything had been ruined. He dared not go back to the pool, but it seemed to pull at him. His dreams were of Kai, and he woke with the sea in his mouth. He felt Kai’s scales beneath his fingertips, and the cool pull of the water. He felt hot and dry all of the time, and no amount of water quenched him.

“Are you all right, then?”

Terry looked at Peter, who waited for the mint leaves. He stood at the edge of the garden like touching the dirt would sully his reputation. Over time Terry had come to find Peter tolerable, but they were hardly friends. “Fine.” He knew he was being terse, but he didn’t care.

“You seem a bit feverish. Your skin’s gone all splotchy and you look tired.”

“There’s no need to insult me,” Terry snapped. His head ached, and he felt more irritable than usual. This waiting was torment.

Peter seemed uncharacteristically flustered by that. “I didn’t mean – it’s just – Maggie said you stopped running off in the afternoons.”

Terry said nothing and held out the bag of mint.

Peter stared at the bag, although he did not take it. “Look, I know you think I’m some poncy git, but I’m not blind. You stopped running off and now you look terrible, and whoever he was he’s an idiot and didn’t deserve you.” Peter blushed suddenly, looking younger than he ever had.

Terry blinked. “What?”

“And I think it’s pretty brilliant that you used the pool, too,” Peter said, talking quickly. “But also kind of stupid, you know. I mean, I guessed, didn’t I? And someone would have had to have shown up sooner or later. And there are guards there now – I heard from the doctors who know everything about the royals. I’m very close to the doctors, you know. But no one’s looking for you. You can stop worrying.”

The rush of words took Terry by surprise. How close Peter had gotten to the truth scared him. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying you don’t have to play dumb with me,” Peter said, sounding almost irritated, staring somewhere past Terry’s shoulder. “My theory is that he was – or is, rather, married, so you had to meet somewhere no one would find you, and I guess near the merman’s pool is as good a place as any, long as you didn’t get too close. And my guess is that someone discovered you, or almost discovered you, and now you’re scared. But I don’t think anyone will come for you. I heard from the servant girls that the prince just wanted the guards to be put up and be done with it. He wants to forget it, I think. Probably pretty embarrassing, to be attacked by your own pet.”

Terry struggled to find something to say. His heart was pounding at how much Peter seemed to know, even though he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Peter was so interested. The boy had never talked to him this much before. “What – what makes you think it was a he?” he asked finally.

Peter looked him in the eye suddenly. “Wasn’t it?”

Terry nodded after a moment.

“Right, well, that’s what I thought. I’m very good at seeing these things, you know.” He paused for a moment. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you. So you would stop looking so awful. And… if you want to discuss plants, or something, sometime, that would be okay, too.” And then he snatched the mint out of Terry’s hand and all but ran off.

Terry watched him go, and then looked around at the bunches of herbs and plants that sprouted around him, patiently waiting for his attention in neat, organized rows. He sat down in the dirt and wondered how his life had gotten so complicated.