Atticus was doing pretty well with his disability since losing his right arm. He focused on what he could do instead of what he couldn’t, and he did quite a lot. We couldn’t move around the world quickly anymore, and he couldn’t shape-shift into animal forms like he used to, but he still had all his other powers and—most importantly—access to meats.
“So you’ll still have work to do here afterward?” Rose asked.
“Yes. There’s always something to be done. I may have to travel to mainland Australia from time to time for emergencies like this, but other members of my organization can handle problems in the rest of the world. My plan is to stay in Tasmania as long as the Australian government lets me. Part of that means periodically leaving the country for a while and then returning, until I can get a work visa that lets me stay longer.”
His organization was a nonprofit nature charity he made up so that he and the other Druids would have an excuse to show up wherever disasters were happening.
Rose seemed reassured by that, but her eyes slid over to me and Starbuck.
“You’re taking the dogs with you?”
“Yep. They go where I go.”
Starbuck said. He had difficulty separating the two words since he always approved of food.
“Can they go outside for a bit, if this is the last time I’m going to see you for a while?”
I said.
Gods below, Oberon, Atticus said via our link,I really wish you wouldn’t call it that.
That’s worse.
You mean euphemisms? No, I don’t.
Starbuck said.
The phrase is “knocking boots,” Oberon, and please, just... don’t mention it.
I left him alone after that because I’d managed to embarrass him sufficiently. Rose drove us to the ferry the next day in Devonport, and we endured the kennels in the belly of the ship like very good boys by sleeping through most of the ride over, and spending the rest of the time discussing what kind of food we’d get as a reward for being so good. Starbuck was convinced we’d get steak, but I didn’t think so. We were going to arrive in the morning and humans didn’t eat steak for breakfast as often as they should. They preferred sausage, and that was just fine by me.
We didn’t get anything super special, though; Atticus hired a car once we deboated (is that a word? I know you can deplane but can you deboat or dejetski or demotorcycle?) and he had the driver take us to a drive-thru to get sausage breakfast sandwiches.
After that he had the driver stop in a forested mountainous patch of country called the Dandenong Ranges. It smelled like flowers and butterfly dust and wombats underneath all the smoke. We could smell the fires even though they were miles away. Atticus stepped out on the side of the road and we got out with him.
I asked him, even though Starbuck was already turning it into one by lifting his leg on a nearby tree.
Yes, but also a chance for me to talk to the elemental and figure out where exactly we’re going. Give me a few minutes of quiet, and stay close, please.
He stood still and faced the forest, his sandals kicked off andhis bare feet planted on the earth. He shoved his hand into his pocket and remained still, closing his eyes as he established communication with the elemental. The driver was looking at him with a worried expression, perhaps wondering what kind of client he had picked up, but after a few seconds of staring he shrugged and got out his phone, probably concluding that Atticus was paying for the time so he could stand around doing nothing if he wanted.
But Atticus was bound to the earth, the tattoos on his right heel allowing him to speak directly to the local manifestation of Gaia, so he wasn’t doing nothing. He could get a bit lost in that communication sometimes, though. That was why I always made sure to stand guard when he did that so nothing could sneak up on him. He said I didn’t need to worry, no animals would ever try to hurt him, but I wasn’t worried about animals. I was worried about other humans, which is what everyone should be worried about.
When Atticus moved again—it was only like fifteen years or five weeks or something—his face was tight with stress and stuff. I don’t always get human emotions perfectly right from just looking at their faces, but I knew he wasn’t happy.
“Let’s go, pups,” he said, even though we weren’t pups. We piled back into the van and Atticus gave the driver better directions. We were going to someplace called Kanangra Walls in New South Wales, whatever that was. Once we were moving again he leaned back and spoke to us in our minds.
We have a bit of a journey ahead of us. Eight hours or so. Would you like to hear a scary story?
Starbuck shouted, his mouth opening and his tongue lolling out in a smile. He loved stories.
I said.
