“The rules were there well before Gwen took over,” Fix said. “I don’t agree with them but I don’t know if she can change them just like that.”
Wren rolled his eyes. Gwen was a sore point between them that they might never agree on. Where Fix saw a mother figure, Wren saw a totalitarian leader upholding an institution he despised with all his being.
“We don’t even know if the stories are true or just an intimidation tactic,” Wren said. “Some of them were pretty wild.”
“Well, I don’t want to confirm one way or another. I don’t want to wake up one day and have you be gone without a trace. Halfway across the world. Or just…erased.”
“You think they’d do that?”
“Like I said, I don’t want you testing any of it.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore anyway,” Wren said. “We’re worlds apart. That’s all history.”
The words fell between them like a weight, kicking up dust that made it hard to draw in a breath.
The animals continued to rustle around them, providing a buffer with their innocence.
“Eat, please?” Fix said when the dust finally settled.
Wren nodded, then he watched Fix shimmy his way back up and out, knowing that Wren needed space. He turned back after a few steps.
“Oh, and the jaguar…”
Wren snuggled his and Sable’s faces together, pouting for show. “We’re having a sleepover.”
Fix rolled his eyes. “And is this sleepover going to last five years?”
“Undetermined.”
Fix snorted and waved before turning to trudge back inside. “Hart told me I should pick my battles as my morning affirmation. I didn’t realize how apt that would be.”
Wren blew out a deep breath once he was gone, pushing himself to sit up and chewing on his bottom lip.
He was full of restless energy, thoughts and memories of Teddy swirling around his head. He disposed of the food and crawled his way out of the enclosure, shutting it tightly after Sable and Blu.
He kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his hoodie, then he broke into a dead sprint directly toward the forest.
The almost inaudible flap of Blu’s wings and Sable’s footfalls behind him faded away as he broke through the tree line, losing himself in the lush green that blocked all sight of industry or humanity.
In here he was, just another animal, able to tap into that baser part of himself that always seemed so close to the surface, that tinged interactions with instinct.
Scents of dirt and musk filled his nose, the crisp bite of oak wood cutting through the top notes. Wren could find his way around the forest by smell alone. It could lead him to every nook and den, every small pond or lonely rock.
Sweat began to bead all over his body, his legs beginning to ache and falter the longer and farther he ran. It was only when he physically collapsed to his knees, unable to keep up the momentum that was driving him that he stopped.
And when he glanced up, he saw he was at the very edge of the forest, looking out at the road that led from Slatehollow to Arcstead.
A single tear rolled down his cheek and a small whimper escaped his chest. His blunt fingers dug into the ground desperately, like he could grab the fabric of the earth and pull it back toward him, closing the distance he knew was growing with every passing moment.
Sable licked the tears from his dirty cheeks as they kept falling, but despite wanting to, he couldn’t feel the comfort. His heart would not be soothed.
He closed his exhausted eyes and prayed for sleep even though he knew it wouldn’t come, thinking of Fix’s words that he hoped he could finally rest.
Fix didn’t know that once, he had.
Even while he was fighting, there was a place he would always slip back to, a nook his head fit perfectly into and arms that cradled him softly in the confines of whatever space they had decided to make their den.
A sad chirp had his eyes fluttering open, a blurry blue shape coming into focus as teardrops fell.
