“And now you’re stuck, because you’re holding the frog,” I surmised.
“That, and I didn’t realize how high up I was until I looked down.” Her voice took on a slightly higher pitch.
“Ah,” I said, things finally clicking into place. “So you’re afraid of heights.”
“Um, yes. Yeah. That probably seems so silly to someone who can fly. This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe I climbed up here.”
I tried to give my most soothing hum from deep in my thorax. “I think it was very brave to climb up here, if you were afraid. We all have our fears. I’m afraid of lots of things that would probably seem silly to you.”
She shifted the weight of her legs on the tree branch, obviously uncomfortable with the way it was digging into her knee, but as she did, she looked down and froze in fear again.
I kept talking, trying to distract her but struggling to come up with something suitable. “I’m afraid of… um... gum,” I said, frowning slightly as I realized what I’d just said.
But it worked.
She jerked her gaze to me and gave a few rapid blinks. “You’re afraid of chewing gum?” she asked doubtfully.
“I am,” I affirmed with a nod. “It’s sticky and awful. Imagine getting it stuck in my fluff,” I explained, stroking the feathers of my mane with a hand. “It happened once, thanks to the same small child you witnessed terrorizing my orchard,” I explained. Miela had gotten a wad of it stuck in my mane one time and it had taken her mother, Solandis, over an hour to get it out using peanut butter. We’d nearly had to cut it out, and I would have spent months walking around with a hole in my mane. Gum washorrible stuff. “It is now firmly off-limits around my person,” I said with a huff, causing her to give me a flicker of a bemused smile. I wanted to punch the air with pride at having managed to draw out even the smallest of smiles from her in her distressed state, but I refrained and searched instead for something else with which to distract her.
“Oh, and angler fish,” I stated, suddenly remembering how horrifying they looked. I sat back further on my own branch, trying to get comfortable while I waited for my companion’s nerves to continue to calm. It was strangely enjoyable watching her expressions as she mentally parsed through her reactions to my announced fears.
Confused amusement was what she landed on. “Why would you be afraid of angler fish?” she asked curiously. “Have you ever even seen one in person?”
I huffed at her and crossed my upper arms. “Of course not. Since they can’t survive out of the deep ocean and I cannot swim, I doubt I’ll ever meet one face to face. Can you imagine me swimming?” I gestured at my wings and the sheer amount of poofy fuzz covering my body. “I would look like a drowned rat,” I informed her. If I’d had a nose, I would have raised it in the air at the thought of such a disgraceful image. I hated being wet. It was the worst.
She gave me another confused smile, still not understanding. “Then why…” She let her question trail off.
“I’ve seen pictures of them, and that’s enough for me. The mere concept of angler fish is terrifying. Just imagine being down in the deep, dark ocean and suddenly coming upon a lovely little glowing lamp. You excitedly swim over to check out such an exquisite find, and then GIANT NEEDLE TEETH EMERGE FROM THE DARKNESS!” It was the ultimate betrayal. I might have gotten a little loud and dramatic,considering Lilith burst into laughter at my narration. Working to lower my voice, I concluded, “Truly the stuff of nightmares.”
Her smile was wide as she settled a little more comfortably beside me. The sound of her laughter made my chest feel jittery, and I decided I needed to hear more of it. I cast about mentally for something else to make her laugh.
“What is your most ridiculous fear? I bet I can top it,” I challenged.
“I can’t really think of a ridiculous one,” she answered slowly. “Unless you count the fear of heights,” she said, glancing down as she said it.
“No!” That was not what I wanted. “It only counts if it can’t actually harm you.” Back to silly topics and not the drop below her. I would never allow her to fall. I could reach out and snatch her back in an instant, but doing so might injure her delicate skin if I weren’t able to be as careful as I wanted with my claws. Better to calm her nerves and discuss a safer way to get her down, one that she consented to and felt safe with.
“Um, I don’t know. Death? Dying?”
I scoffed. “You’re terrible at this game.”
“How about… monsters,” she decided, enunciating slowly and looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “I guess… those aren’t even real… so it’s a ridiculous fear.”
“Hm, I suppose,” I conceded, scooting closer to her. Many people would consider me a monster, for some bizarre reason—probably because they felt inadequate due to their limited number of arms—but if she didn’t, then I felt no need to correct her. Time to implement my plan. “How about I take your frog from you, and then your hands will be free to grip the branch?” I held out one of my hands toward her, still able to hold on to the tree with five other perfectly useful appendages, trying not to convey my smugness at how superior mothpeople’s bodies were.
Lilith frowned at my hand. “He’s slimy,” she warned me, glancing back at my face.
I couldn’t keep my own frown from mirroring hers. Slime in the velvety covering on my hands was utterly dreadful. I sighed and wiggled my fingers at her to encourage her to give up the frog.
She did, albeit hesitantly, gripping the plump little body carefully as she slowly reached to deposit the creature into my hand. I closed my fingers around it just as carefully and drew it closer to study it.
“He looks familiar,” I muttered. “Is this Patrick?”
She paused while scrubbing the palm of her hand off on the bark of the unsuspecting tree and blinked at me. “I wasn’t aware frogs have names.”
“Why wouldn’t they have names?”
“I don’t know. It just started showing up in my apple tree pot around the same time that those little low-fae mushrooms from your orchard began growing in it.”
