Cries of “ME!” smothered any weak argument I’d prepared. I sighed, defeated. When it came to an excited gaggle of kids clamoring for my attention, I couldn’t refuse.
“Let’s race!” Ruby cried, shifting into human form. As the oldest, his speech was the most advanced. The longer I looked at him, the more I saw little glimpses of Taylor, and my heart felt full of affection.
“Okay, but we gotta make it fair,” Viol said. “It won’t work if some of you are dragons and ferrets. Let’s try it on two legs.”
The kids all excitedly shifted to human form. The sight of the youngsters melted my heart. It was easy to forget how young they were as animals, when they looked so noble and confident, but as toddlers, they were plump-faced and ready to topple over. They were so cute I could hardly stand it.
Viol swung around to stand beside me, creating an impromptu starting line. I was taken aback by his sudden proximity. When he announced “go”, I was still staring at him. But as the kids took off, so did he. I was so busy watching him that I forgot to move. Viol lagged behind on purpose to let the kids forge ahead. His face lit up at their joy, and he flashed an unfiltered smile. It was an expression I hadn’t seen touch his face in a long time. I was so mesmerized by it that I stood motionless, content simply to observe.
Viol used to smile like that constantly. It felt like I was seeing a version of him from the past, unclouded and undamaged. My chest tightened, wrapped up in a bittersweet sensation.
Not for the first time, I wondered what our lives could’ve been...
Suddenly, I felt a jarring shiver down my spine. My gaze wrenched ahead. I saw it before it happened—Ruby tripped, his foot catching on the edge of a cobblestone. He was going to fall.
My body burst ahead instinctively, but I wasn’t fast enough. Ruby hit the ground. In the second it took me to reach him, he went dreadfully silent, then began to cry. It was a gut-wrenching sound.
I skidded to my knees, picking up Ruby and cradling him. He’d scraped his palms, and dirt was smeared on his cheek despite his streaming tears.
Viol stormed towards us in a panic. His face, which moments ago had been so peaceful, was now twisted with guilt.
“Ruby,” he cried. “Are you okay?”
The boy was too flustered to reply. He hiccupped through the tears.
I pulled him into a hug and rocked him back and forth. “You’re all right, Ruby,” I murmured. “It hurts now, but it’ll stop soon. I promise.”
Viol kneeled, his expression still wild with alarm. His shoulders trembled, and his skin was pale. He looked like he needed comforting almost as badly as Ruby.
I stroked Ruby’s hair and continued to hold him. Soon his wails died down into sniffles, and I knew he was coherent enough to speak again.
“It’s okay,” I repeated gently. “You’re safe, right?”
Ruby’s sniffles paused as he considered my question. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Does it hurt less?”
He thought it over again. When he replied, his voice was steadier. “Uh-huh.”
“That’s good. Should we go inside and take a break, or would you prefer to keep playing?”
Ruby contemplated his options. “Um... keep playing.”
I smiled. “Okay. Maybe we can race on all fours this time so it’s not as scary if you fall. Right?”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed, smiling back.
I was relieved to see how quickly he bounced back. In a couple minutes, he went from sobbing to wiping his tears and eagerly shifting into dragon form to resume playing. His resilience impressed me. I wished I was that brave.
After instructing the rest of the kids about our updated rules, they shifted and took off running as if nothing bad happened. The critters gambolled to the end of the pathway, steady on all four paws this time, giggling and encouraging each other all the while.
When I stood up, I noticed Viol was still pale.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He ducked his head. Dark locks of hair fell across his face, obscuring his eyes. “It’s my fault Ruby got hurt,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have suggested a stupid race.”
“It’s not your fault at all,” I countered. “Accidents happen. Kids bounce back.”
