Why can’t Isellta mind his own business? Little busybody. Little spy. Why can’t he just leave me alone? I’m fine.
I’m alive, aren’t I?
I’m alive and I’m free.
Robin slowed to a walk.
The blade sliced his eyelid.
For a moment, he saw the blade so close to his eye. The tip was just a shined blur. It sliced downward. In a sharp, sharp bleeding line.
His eyesight turned red.
Blinking became difficult.
The redness dulled into a haze.
No matter how much he tried to blink, the haze remained.
And it still remained.
“I can still hunt. I don’t need anyone’s hand holding mine.” He kicked an empty tomato soup can towards the other side of the street. “I don’t need to be hand fed!”
The can dinged off a parked taxi. The taxi driver stuck his head out the window and yelled, “Hey! Watch it, ya idjit!”
Why can’t Isellta understand something so simple?
He caught the scent again and ran towards it.
Isellta flapped the street’s dust out of his wings. A couple of French fries fell out as well.
I could follow him, but I think he’d just punch me.
Why doesn’t he understand?
I just don’t want him to get hurt.
Why doesn’t he understand?
Why is he so stubborn?
Why does he have to be such a overly emotional, overly irrational, overly human…human?
Why can’t he just be a fey like me?
Raven watched Robin run from the fey. “He certainly is willful. I will grant him that.”
The woman pouted. “You said you wanted to show me something.”
Raven turned his attention back to her – a blonde in a white fur coat and the scent of artificial sweetener. “Yes. But not here, miss. Follow me. I will show you something interesting. So very interesting.”
She unpouted and smiled. “I bet you will.” She let him lead her away.
Ambrose and Barbara sang one last round of “I Believe My Heart” from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Woman In White musical before collapsing happily into a park bench. It was completely snow covered, but neither one cared.
He leaned his head back and looked up at the tree-screened night sky.
She curled up next to him.
His gaze returned to Earth and to the top of her head. Threads of her hair had escaped her bun, making her hairstyle untidy.
He gently set her hair free from near-invisible elastic bands and twenty-five bobby pins. “There.”
She looked up at him.
He kissed her forehead. “Much better.”
She laid her hand on his chest.
Her hand rose and fell with his breaths.
I can marry her.
He almost wanted to cry from happiness. I can marry her. This wonderful woman, this bright and beautiful woman that I adore. I can marry her. “You tired?”
“A little. But that was so worth it.”
Ambrose grinned. “It was completely worth it.” He kissed her head. “I’ll take you home.”
“Mm. That would be nice.”
“Do you think you can walk?”
“Mmm.” Her eyes closed.
“I’ll take that as no.” He carefully scooped her up into his arms.
She leaned her head against him.
I’m going to make a total spectacle of myself, but I don’t care.
He carried her all the way back to the car.