Soren
His daddy had torn out of bed like the world was on fire, while Soren blinked sleepily at his broad back disappearing through the doorway while he lay there trying to figure out what was going on. He couldn’t sense Taggart in the house and figured this was the reason for the suddenness of Arlington rushing.
Arlington slammed the door before Soren could follow and ask what was going on.
Was he supposed to go back to sleep?
No way he was sleeping after being woken like that. His little heart was pounding in his chest, and then there was the anxiety over where Taggart had gone. Although Soren suspected he knew after how he’d worked to distract Taggart the day before.
Alone in the house for the first time since this had become his new home, honestly, the knowledge of that was freaking him out a little.‘Cause what if one of the smelly things came, or something worse?
If there were anything worse than that creature, he didn’t want to meet it. His bird wanted to perch deep in the closet, or burrow into the pocket of someone’s hoodie to wait and see how the day played out. If there was one thing the terrifying encounter with the creature had taught him, it was that he could control his fear.
Exhaling, he closed his eyes and went through the mental list of how the day should play out. Get up, make the bed, brush his teeth, shower, dress to get the kitchen back in order. He could worry about making breakfast when his mates returned.
If they returned.
No.
No.
No.
He would not think like that!
Scurrying from beneath the covers, he could see, but he turned the knob on the lamp, feet hitting the ground as bright light flooded the space. Smoothing the bed helped him focus, the rhythmic motion of his hand straightening the sheets had a grounding effect. The combined scent filled his nose, amplified when he fluffed the pillows. And if he took a moment to bury his nose in theirs, oh well, they weren’t here to see how much effort it was taking not to be a scaredy cat, or in his case, a great big chicken of an oxpecker.
He was proud of the way his hand only trembled a little as he laid each pillow down, drew the sheet up and over them, then tucked a bit of the sheet beneath them before he smoothed out the comforter. Throw pillows and stuffies, he added next, along with his snowy owl, one of the few he’d been able to rescue from his former home, and the only one who’d escaped undamaged. He’d already sewn his otter and octopus, though he still needed to find the perfect material to replace the leg it had lost. They sat on the chair next to the nightstand until he scooped them into his arms and squeezed them, trying to transfer some of his fear to them so he could do what he needed to do.
It had always worked when he was little, but nothing had worked to erase the terror that had gripped his heart since his family was lost. Not even the new family he’d found in Taggart and Arlington. Not when there was still the risk of losing them, too.
The press of tears stung his eyes as he headed to the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was hazy, so he turned the tap on and splashed handfuls of cold water on his face until the threatof tears had passed. Once his teeth had been brushed, he stepped beneath the hot spray of the shower, hastily washing because being in there, with the shower curtain blocking his vision of the bathroom and the water clogging his ears, made him paranoid.
Peering out revealed the bathroom was exactly as he'd left it, but he should have locked the door. That would have given him a little warning at least, not that his oxpecker would have anywhere to hide in the room.
Instinct drew his eyes to the cubby, they ran along one side of the wall. Towels, washcloths and bath products were all arranged neatly on them. If the need arose, he could hide there, as long as he wasn’t spotted first.
Still, he checked the bathroom three more times over the course of his shower, fingers trembling each time he touched the smooth plastic. Stepping out was a relief, as was the kitchen, when he arrived barefoot with his wet hair dripping on the T-shirt he’d pulled on. While the broken things got cleaned up, there was still the matter of taking inventory and making a list of any dishes and cutlery that needed to be replaced. He got started there, gnawing on his pencil in between jotting things down.
There was still their grocery order to put in, now that Daddy had declared that delivery was the way he’d prefer they handle their needs for the foreseeable future. Of course, that had come with the hard and unbendable rule that they make sure he was there when those deliveries were to occur. Not that Soren would have argued with him about that. Wary at times of meeting new people after what strangers had done to his former home, the evil, creepy, stinky thing breaking in had left him even more fearful. Having Daddy there to stand between him and the unknown was the only way he was willing to face anything new, so the order would have to wait. At least his list was finished and waiting on the counter for when he could see if they’d like anything else added to it.
Knowing what ingredients they had, allowed him to create a menu for the day. Cherry breakfast pancakes dotted with chocolate chips and served with a side of sausage links would be breakfast, or brunch, depending on when they got back. While turkey club sandwiches would be their lunch. That would take care of the last of the bacon, the final two tomatoes, and the lettuce that was beginning to wilt. He added bacon to the list and decided to serve the sandwiches with cut-up pieces of strawberry and pineapple, since they had both. Dinner would be a big roast. He pulled out the meat to thaw, along with the carrots, pearl onions, and potatoes he’d picked up on his last grocery run.
With the way he’d fluttered and trembled, eyes darting around cautiously in between each choice, he was glad Daddy had made the online shopping rule last night. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, but being alone sent his anxiety off the charts. That Arlington had wanted to protect him helped immensely.
Their physical connection between them grounded him and helped him focus. As he always did, he assembled all but his refrigerated ingredients on the counter, and the pans he’d need on the stove, to prepare for breakfast, then headed to the hall closet to get out the vacuum. It might not need another pass, but he did the living room and the hall to keep his hands occupied, returning the vacuum to its place and got out the yellow duster to keep his mind from spiraling into dark, scary places that left him wanting to hide.
He would not be in a small, dark corner shivering when they got back.
He wouldn’t.
But when something clattered loudly outside, his inner oxpecker said fuck that noise, and left his clothes in a puddle on the ground as he shifted out of them and flew into the bedroom, straight into the closet he’d left cracked open for this very reason.
Into the pocket of a hoodie, he wiggled, huddling, legs tucked beneath him, wings pressed to his sides, eyes squeezed shut.
Listening.
Listening.
