Page 26 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

Max blinked at him, looking taken aback by this. “I don’t think I’m anyone’s favorite person.”

“Incorrect,” Rory informed him helpfully, “since you’re mine.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Max pointed out.

“There’s plenty of time to fix that,” Rory enthused before a thought made him frown. “I mean, if you’re still okay with that. Like I said, I didn’t think about the fact that you thought I was just a bird.”

Max’s expression was a bit sardonic. “Honestly, the only thing I’m really surprised about is that you were okay being unable to talk for so long.”

Rory laughed. “Hey, I was talking plenty.”

Max’s lip curled up in clear amusement. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t speak bird.”

“You don’t seem to speak cat, either. There have been a few occasions where I’d be pretty worried about what Nōwē is saying.”

Max eyed him but was still smiling. “I got the gist. The fact that I feed her the good food is what keeps me in her good graces, and I’m well aware of it.”

Nōwē seemed to be quite affectionate towards Max overall, but she was definitely still a cat.

Rory’s stomach made a gurgling noise, and he clamped his hands over it. He’d almost forgotten how this body worked. It had been second nature to suppress the need to eat as a bird, but he hadn’t gotten into the habit of doing that in this much bigger form.

“I should have thought of lunch!” Max said, looking chagrined. “Sorry. With that big breakfast—that you didn’t get to eat—I didn’t even think about it. Uh, I don’t have a lot of food options.”

“I like PB&J,” Rory assured him.

Max looked taken aback for a moment and then seemed to recall that Rory was sometimes a bird and had seen what he’d been eating for the past few weeks.

“I should do some grocery shopping anyway,” Max admitted. “You want to come?”

Rory perked up. “Yes, please.”

It had been a while since he’d gone shopping, and he was sure that he would enjoy the experience with Max.

Once the shop was closed up tight—and Nōwē fed so that she wouldn’t stage a rebellion or plan an assassination—Max gathered up reusable bags, dug through his closet to produce a coat that Rory could wear, and then they set off on foot.

As they walked, Max explained, “I don’t usually get a ton at once, and then occasionally I’ll take the car so that I can really stock up on the essentials.”

“That makes sense.”

If Rory’s life had taught him anything, it was how ephemeral things were. You didn’t usually get to keep them, so Rory didn’t form attachments to them.

The store turned out to be all of fifteen minutes away and was open until 6pm on Sundays according to the sign on the door. They only had to fill Max’s reusable bags, so they should have enough time.

Max pulled a cart out of the mass that were connected together and set his bags in the top section.

“Pick out anything that interests you,” he told Rory.

Rory took Max at his word, and soon the cart was filled with a pineapple, an artichoke, extra spicy salsa, three different kinds of cheese, a tub of mixed nuts, hot sauce, and ice cream sandwiches.

“You like sandwiches!” Rory pointed out gleefully.

Max’s eyes crinkled up in the corners. “Yes, I do.”

Rory enjoyed all the colorful packaging. Max watched him with bemusement.

“When’s the last time you went shopping?” Max asked.

Rory stopped to consider this. “Uh, it’s been a while. I don’t always pay that much attention to time, but I don’t think I was a bird for more than, like, ten years at the most?”