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Jimmy had gotten used to staying quiet.
As an avian, he was viewed in a certain way by other hybrids. As a watcher, a killer, and a threat. Not like any of them were actually about to turn violently into each other, there was little point in that, but it was a tendency. An expectation. Avians didn’t tend to socialize, they were taciturn and kept to themselves. They didn’t even have names. This was common knowledge.
So Jimmy was used to spending most of his time in the markets alone.
After he’d been sold from his colony and cut his ties, surrendering his name and the right to see any avians he might meet in the outside world as friends or family, he’d found himself bouncing between masters and markets. No one seemed to keep him very long. His golden wings and tall stature were selling points, but all that meant was resale value to a lot of masters who’d tire of him quickly. Jimmy knew he didn’t size up to other avians when it came to what they were actually meant for.
Killers.
Avians were killers.
With razor sharp talons and incredibly powerful builds. Flight, sharp eyes, heightened features, the works. Jimmy had all those tools, but they’d always felt clumsy in his hands. He wasn’t a fast flyer due to his height, and where he might’ve made up for that in physical strength or prowesscombat, he was also lacking. Compared to the others of his colony he’d been a disappointment. Being relegated to having his best selling point be his beautiful golden wings was a humiliation. He still remembered the snickers and jabbed remarks, from those within his year as well as elders of the colony arranging the cutting of their ties as they were sold to the outside.
Avian colonies were complicated.
Jimmy certainly hadn’t been of the level of skill or strength to be kept by the colony, to retain his ties and his freedom. His cousins had both been far stronger, faster, and deadlier than him, and neither of them had come close to that level, either.
Former cousins.
He reminded himself strictly, shoulders slouching as he gazed around.
The market he’d found himself in wasn’t the worst. Sometimes in this system he had to settle for silver linings. He’d gotten used to it. Located in some large city Jimmy didn’t know the name of, a circular yard ran up against the city wall, and the marketplace building served as a barrier between the street and the open space. The grass was browned from trodding feet and it got muddy when it rained, but they had awnings along the city wall, and all of them were taken back into the building during the night. Behind the building, also running along the city wall, were a series of storage sheds and stacked crates of various wares and supplies creating something of a narrow alley. Jimmy knew some of the hybrids who were newer had taken to hiding back there, not like it made a difference. Orders had been given to all of them that when the sun started coming down, they were to report back to the main building. Didn’t matter how hard you tried, that pain would get you on your feet and moving back to where you were meant to be.
It was just how things were.
And Jimmy was used to it.
Jimmy had settled himself beneath one of the awnings for shade from the sun, the city was muggy and hot even as Summer faded out and Autumn came to take it’s place. He sat crouched on his folded, bird-like legs, talons gently dug in against the grass. His pants were too short for his height, and cinched into his waist by a length of twine threaded through. The dark blue tank top he wore was completely backless to allow his wing roots space to move, as they ran along his back from his shoulder blades all the way down nearly to his lower back. His wings were folded around him, almost like a cocoon of golden feathers. Other hybrids were clustered in the yard, or some preferred to stay inside. Some might be with the masters, getting pitched for sale. Jimmy had gotten pitched several times, but other avians who’d been at the market had beaten him out.
Quite literally, considering most of the customers often requested to see them show off their skills, and it didn’t matter what he did, Jimmy had never been able to beat another avian in a fight. Not for lack of trying. His shoulder was still sore, angry red road-burn from how he’d been tossed to the flagstone slab in the center of the yard during a recent fight. His fellow avian hadn’t showed a spark of remorse even as he’d cried out, blood had pearled along the many lacerations down his arm, and his wings had crumpled weakly when he was pinned down.
Jimmy wouldn’t expect them too show any mercy.
Avians didn’t cling to each other the way other hybrids did.
That wasn’t in their nature, it wasn’t in their rules.
Even if the few happy memories he held onto were of nights spent snuggled for warmth in a shared nest with his cousins that wasn’t allowed anymore.
Once an Avian was cut from their colony, they were alone.
Giving everything in service of their master was the greatest achievement they could hope for, if they had failed to prove themselves so exceptional as to be retained within the colony to produce and train the next generation.
That’s just how it was.
Jimmy had known all these things as fact his entire life. That didn’t make him feel any less frustrated. He looked out over the yard again, eyes casting over the various groups of hybrids clumped together. Either by their sub-species, or perhaps a hodgepodge that’d taken a liking to each other. This market wasn’t so cruel as others Jimmy had been through. Where they’d be kept apart, under orders to stay quiet, or constantly left near the street side on display for sale, which was always the worst. He hated the way passersby would ogle his feathers, brilliant gold.
As if they were the only thing of worth about him.
Aren’t they, though?
Wasn’t that the sobering thought?
Jimmy’s eyes were drawn then to a hybrid coming out into the yard.
He’s new.
He provided to himself succinctly. He’d been at this market for almost a month now, so he knew the faces of all the hybrids here, enough at least to know if someone were new. Besides, it wasn’t hard with this guy.
Jimmy had never seen a mer before.
The mer had blue hair streaked through with iridescent shimmers that seemed to shift from yellow, to red, to green. His blue eyes swept over the yard as he drew his hands together in front of himself, webbed fingers worrying together. His skin was pale, with patches of green scales in places. He wore a cream-colored top that criss-crossed straps from his chest back over, leaving slender shoulders that were rounded with green scales as well. Black shorts and ankle boots that’d clearly seen some water damage. Jimmy knew most of them wore whatever it was they’d been collared in, if they were hybrids taken by force. Jimmy didn’t fit that category, exactly, so he couldn’t relate.
The mer’s ears had large finned fans, paper thin, that also seemed to change colors in the light. The door behind him into the marketplace slammed shut, Jimmy supposed he must’ve been pushed out there to mingle. An odd tactic by a market owner, maybe, but Jimmy had seen it before. He’d seen everything before. It was far easier to let a newly collared hybrid learn the rules from his fellows than waste time trying to beat them in yourself, the nuances weren’t things that could be placed in the runes of a collar.
Jimmy watched him as he glanced around, but none of the clusters that’d formed made any moves to welcome him. There were a few other loners who were lounging or hiding behind the crates or the storage sheds.
Blue eyes locked with Jimmy’s, and the avian immediately looked away, snapping his eyes down to the dying grass.
Too late, apparently, because within a few seconds the water-damaged boots had appeared in front of him.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
Jimmy looked up, heart in his throat, eyes wide. He swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “N-No. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
So the mer turned and dropped back to sit against the wall beside him, and Jimmy tried to resume his previous watching. He was sure the mer had just felt awkward trying to find somewhere alone, and it was plainly obvious he hadn’t been collared very long, so he had no clue about the expectations.
The collar.
Jimmy panned his gaze back just far enough to see the mer, see the collar around his neck. It was similar to the one Jimmy wore, there wasn’t much variation. A series of runes etched around the outside of it, faintly glowing red, which symbolized it was under a contract.
The mer turned his chin to catch Jimmy looking at him, and Jimmy bit down a nervous keen in his throat, looking out at the yard again.
He’s beautiful.
Mer were known to be so. They also used magic, if Jimmy remembered correctly. Both water magic as well as siren spells, letting them manipulate others with their voice. Jimmy wondered if this mer was capable of either of those skills. Or maybe not, maybe he was the bottom rung when it came to his sub-species as well? Jimmy couldn’t be the only one.
“Have you been here long?”
He really hadn’t been expecting the mer to try and make conversation, and Jimmy’s heart quickened. His wings ruffled with anxiety. When was the last time he’d carried on a proper conversation? Aside from simple responses to various owners or other hybrids during mealtimes, he didn’t talk to anyone.
“U-Um, not here, no, but…I’ve been collared my whole life.” He lent vaguely.
He’d thought that was common knowledge. Jimmy knew about mer, so surely this guy knew the basics about avians, right?
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Jimmy wasn’t sure what to make of the genuine empathy he heard in his voice.
“I got caught to close to the shore. This is the first place I’ve been left, or…I dunno. It’s been a week, maybe? Feels like ages, though.”
He’s really new.
Jimmy felt bad for him. Truly, he did. Mer weren’t one of the lines of hybrids that were always enslaved, unlike avians. Avians outside their colonies were collared, that was the way of the world.
That was the rule.
There were a lot of rules, rules that defined everything Jimmy had ever known. Here was sitting someone who’d only just been tossed into the fire, with no clue what any of those rules were, or what they meant.
Nor how harsh the punishment of ignorance would be.
“U-Um…if…you don’t understand, I…if you have any questions, that is. Ask me. I know about most things.” He lent, awkwardly trying to make eye contact again.
The mer looked up at him with a smile. “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”
Jimmy felt his ears going pink, and the tiny wings on his temples flitted happily. He felt the corners of his mouth trying to tug into a smile, and when was the last time they’d done that?
“Oh, I’m Scott, by the way!” The mer said, straightening back and sticking his hand out.
Jimmy carefully unwound his arms from where he had them wrapped around his drawn up knees, bird-like talons perching him on the ground. He took the handshake. “Nice to meet you.”
He recognized the sound of someone coming out from back behind the crates and the storage shed. When he glanced back he recognized one of the cat hybrids he’d sometimes spar with, both of them wanting to keep their skills sharp. Jimmy didn’t like fighting, but he was well aware he was expected to be good at it. Several other hybrids out here knew that as well.
He was passing by when Scott asked his next question.
“So what’s your name?”
Jimmy’s shoulders went taunt as a bowstring. The smile that’d been easing up his face flattened as he drew his lips into a thin line. He sharply yanked his hand away and folded his arms around his knees again. Curling into himself, he drew his wings around, cutting off Scott from his side as he tried to steady his breathing. Heart rapidly hammering out of control.
Before Scott had any chance to be confused, the cat hybrid who’d been going by turned his gaze onto him harshly.
“Don’t you know anything? Don’t ask him that!” He hissed.
Jimmy was surprised he’d jumped to the defense, and it wasn’t like he’d consider them friends or anything, but he supposed it was a pretty shocking question to hear for most anyone who knew anything about avians.
Scott glared up at him. “Why not?” He snapped, clearly not intimidated.
The cat hybrid scoffed, leaning forward at the waist, paw-like hands coming to plant at his hips. “Because avians don’t have names! Everyone knows that!”
“It’s fine.” He tried to diffuse, putting his palms up from how he’d tucked his arms in and slowly folding back his wings again, forcing a tight nod.
The cat hybrid raised an eyebrow. “It’s not fine, he’d get his throat slashed open by any other avian for asking that! He’s lucky he asked you!”
“What?” One of Scott’s hands shot up to his neck, resting against the collar tightly buckled around his throat.
“But he did ask me, and I’m not the slashing type. Thanks, though.” Jimmy insisted firmly, and the cat hybrid heaved a sigh. Then he straightened up, looking down at Scott critically again.
“If you don’t know the rules, it’s better to keep your mouth shut.”
He stalked off, continuing on his way.
Scott watched him go before looking at Jimmy again, incredulity in his gaze. “You…really don’t have a name?”
I do. But I’m not allowed to use it.
Cutting ties from his colony meant leaving behind everything that wasn’t useful. Names included. Of course, Jimmy knew his name, still. He just didn’t give it, not like anyone had asked him for it in years.
That’s just how it was.
Jimmy swallowed, then nodded. “Um, yeah. I don’t. It’s…an avian thing.”
Scott made a noise of dismay. “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t know that. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t!” Jimmy assured, before glancing around the yard again.
“…but, you are lucky you asked me. I’m not particularly hot-blooded, like most avians. He’s right. If you asked any other avian that, they’d probably try and kill you for it.”
Scott worried his lip a moment, blue eyes searching around the yard. Jimmy picked up on what he was doing. “I’m the only avian here right now. One other was here, got sold a couple days ago.”
He touched idly at his arm, still with the reddened, prickly, burning scrapes.
Scott looked over the injury. “Did you get that from them?”
“Yeah. Not their fault. The customer wanted an avian, so the master had the two of us fight awhile…they were…well, I’m not the greatest fighter.”
Jimmy shrugged weakly. Scott winced. “That’s horrible.”
“You get used to it.”
For the first time, a flicker of fear passed over Scott’s face, before he planted his back more firmly against the wall behind him and pulled his knees up.
“Um…is there anything else I should know? You said if I had questions, but…I don’t even know where to start.” He admitted, his voice suddenly weak.
Jimmy looked over him for a few seconds worriedly.
He’s beautiful.
It crossed his mind again. Scott was stunning, and rare, a mer this far inland, almost to the mountains? Jimmy had never met one, and that had to prove something.
He was beautiful. And that was a bad thing. A terrible thing in a situation like this. Jimmy wondered if he ought to mention that, but he got the sense that Scott wasn’t that naive. He clearly wasn’t stupid. He was just out of his depth, he had no idea what sort of expectations were upon a hybrid in a place like this.
Jimmy looked around the yard again, then relaxed his shoulders, tipping his head back to lean against the wall. He tried to come up with some sort of list, some advice to give, and as he did he recognized Scott scooting slightly closer to him.
I can’t protect you.
He wanted to say. But again, he figured Scott knew that.
Jimmy had been alone so long that he sometimes forgot how comforting it could be to just sit with another in companionable silence.
It reminded him of he was a kid. When Grian or Pearl, both older than him, would fold him beneath their wings in their nest, or during line-ups and head counts. It had always made him feel safer, even if they couldn’t have protected him back then, either.
Slowly, hesitantly, he opened the wing closer to Scott, golden feathers pressed insistently at where the mer was leaning back against the wall. He saw Scott’s brow furrow a moment, but he lifted forward. Jimmy slipped his wingtip through the gap and wrapped his wing around his shoulders. Tugging him slightly closer, he drew his knees up again and leaned his head back.
“You’re exhausted.” He pointed out.
Scott stared at him, blue eyes wide, confused. The dark bags and red-rimming was all it took to tell.
“I-I mean…I am, but I’ll be fine.”
“You said you wanted advice, right?” He murmured quietly, and after a moment, Scott nodded.
Jimmy awkwardly flitted his wingtip, the one around Scott, in an imitation of a comforting pat. “You should rest whenever you get the chance.”
Scott made some sort of stifled noise in the back of his throat. It almost sounded like a choked back sob. The mer pressed his lips together thinly a moment, probably forcing himself back from the edge of a breakdown.
“But you’re…”
“I’m an avian. We don’t need much sleep.”
For a few seconds, Jimmy turned his eyes off over the yard again, unable to bear looking directly into Scott’s wide, stunning blue eyes.
Then, he heard the scratch of movement on the dirt, and Scott had closed the last few inches between them. He dropped his head to rest on Jimmy’s shoulder, the one uninjured by the bloody rash from the fight.
Jimmy let his massive wing partially cover him, a wall of golden feathers to block out the rest of the world.
“…thank you.” He heard Scott finally say, his voice constricted.
Jimmy didn’t reply, just turned his attention fully back out over the yard as Scott’s weight settled against him. He was warm. Which seemed odd, for a mer, but Jimmy didn’t know that much about them. Within a few seconds Scott was asleep, his breathing slowed down and the tension in his body started to unwind. Seemed like he’d really needed the sleep. Jimmy doubted he’d gotten much, unable to bear doing so without some sort of assurance. And Jimmy wasn’t sure why exactly he was trusted to serve as such, but he really didn’t mind.
The Next Month.
“What are you doing?” Jimmy hissed, watching Scott throwing his weight into one of the crates behind the storage shed.
“It’s…almost…there…” Scott panted out, boots sliding and skidding on the dying brown grass.
“What’s almost where?” The avian demanded, looking back over his shoulder every couple of seconds.
The hybrids who spent most of their time out in the yard weren’t exactly kept under watch. That wasn’t necessary. All of them had the textbook orders like ‘don’t try to escape, don’t fly above a certain height, don’t use magic’ etc already in their collars. Even still, this was putting Jimmy on edge. This wasn’t a good idea. If one of the owners came out right now and saw this, they’d be in deep trouble.
The crate gave beneath Scott’s shoving, and was now almost directly beneath the slopping edge of the storage shed roof.
“There.” He caught his breath, looking up at it.
“…and now what?” Jimmy asked tiredly, resisting the urge to just grab Scott and drag him back to their usual spot.
How exactly he’d ended up as the mer’s keeper, he wasn’t sure. Scott had already made several escape attempts, all of them had been foiled by his collar. But even after he’d experienced the pain of punishment dealt by the runes, he hadn’t given up.
“Now…I’ve just gotta wait.” He declared, and Jimmy quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Wait for what?” He pressed, and Scott looked over to him. Sweat beaded his brow and the streaks of color in his blue hair shifted in the late afternoon sunlight.
“I overheard something when they took me inside the other day.” He said, beckoning Jimmy closer with a crooked finger.
The avian hesitated. For a second he considered denying even wanting to know, not wanting to implicate himself if Scott’s next hare-brained scheme got him caught by the owners. The only reason he hadn’t gotten in trouble with them yet was because Jimmy had been keeping an eye out for him. Conveniently opening his wings to block line-of-sight from a window for a few seconds when Scott had been about to try and climb the wall. Perching atop the storage shed, which was within the height limit he could fly, watching the yard and the marketplace as the mer tested the limits of the runes denying him the ability to use magic, both water magic and siren spells.
Both of which he could use, as Jimmy had learned.
Not with the collar on, of course, and watching him writhe against the wall of the storage shed, grasping uselessly at the thing as the puddles from recent rain around him only shimmered with the first inklings of his magic before punishment came down, Jimmy had felt odd.
By this point Jimmy had thought he’d grow dissuaded, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.
Is it unfortunate?
That was a concept he’d never have considered before. He’d never had any sort of urge to escape, because unlike Scott, who as a mer could seek freedom in the sea or in various hybrid communities near the coast, Jimmy was unable to do those things.
Avians were killers.
As far as he knew, they weren’t welcome in hybrid circles. It trickled all the way down to how he sat alone in the corner of the yard while the others would gather together. Even if he got away, there was nowhere for him to go. Jimmy had never encountered anything that might prove otherwise. Besides, even if he had, would he try?
That same oddly swelling sensation ballooned in his chest as he shot another glance over his shoulder before coming closer as Scott had beckoned.
The mer tugged him down by the arm to whisper in his ear.
“The owner is selling the whole market. All of us. So all our collars will be freed from contract all at once.”
Jimmy pulled back, eyes widening. “W-Well, yeah but…no way they’ll let anyone out of their sight for long while that’s going on.”
Scott put a finger up. “I don’t need long. All I need in a few seconds.” He pointed to the gutter pipe next to the storage shed. The water dripping into puddles on the muddy grass.
The avian made a disconcerted warble in his throat, looking Scott over.
“I don’t know about this…”
“Who knows when we’ll get another chance, though!”
Jimmy’s expression froze up, the tiny wings on his head shot to point straight up in surprise. He took a step back, talons sinking into the mushy wet dead grass.
“Who’s we?” He demanded, still keeping his voice low.
Scott’s previously hopeful, eager expression shifted, and fear flickered in his eyes. Something that he’d been forcing down with all his strength this past month, even if Jimmy had seen it in dark nights in the market building or after leering eyes had passed their way when customers toured the yard.
“Don’t you want to leave? Get away?” Scott asked him.
Do I?
Jimmy’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth.
It wasn’t something he’d ever considered, because he’d never thought it was even remotely possible. An avian couldn’t go free on his own. It took the power of a colony, the safety in a flock, for something like that to happen, and Jimmy wasn’t strong enough to be worth retaining by any flock. He’d be sold again in a heartbeat.
“I…I’m not like you, Scott, I was never free.”
The mer looked up at him, beautiful sky-blue eyes, and Jimmy saw pity.
“Don’t you want to know what it’s like, though? Isn’t it worth a shot?”
It was such a flippant way to see it. Jimmy knew it was because Scott hadn’t been collared long. He hadn’t experienced a cruel master, or the scorn of his fellows, or the burn of struggling to be better for something he’d never wanted. Jimmy had no idea what he wanted. That wasn’t something put before him. That wasn’t something for which he’d ever been given a choice.
Till now.
But unlike Scott, he understood the consequences.
“If you get caught, it’ll be bad. Really bad.” Jimmy tried, and Scott’s shoulders slumped. Then stubbornness lit in his gaze and his expression hardened.
“If I get caught. I’m not giving up on the rest of my life on an ‘if’.” He snapped, then he stalked around Jimmy.
“Forget it. If you’d rather be a caged bird, then stay here.”
“Scott, that’s not…” He tried, reaching out and grabbing him by the wrist, but Scott yanked his arm free.
“I said forget it! I’ll do it on my own!” He hissed, and then he headed around the corner of the storage shed.
Jimmy stared after him, and that oddly swelling sensation in his chest felt ruptured. What had once been expanding and blooming outward curled into itself, and the avian looked down at his talons. Then he sighed, raking a hand back through golden-blonde hair, over the tiny wing to one side of his head.
He’ll get caught.
Jimmy concluded.
Scott would get caught, he’d get in trouble, he’d be punished, and maybe then he’d finally learn his lesson and stop with this nonsense.
Would that be a good thing?
Irritated, he beat his wings once, lifting up to perch atop the storage shed. The owners didn’t care much what he did or where he sat, considering there were orders in his collar preventing him from flying above a certain height. He folded his bird-like legs beneath him and looked out over the yard. Scott was bright and easy to spot, he’d gone to their usual corner under the awning, squeezing himself into an impossibly small ball against one of the posts, back to the wall.
Jimmy felt a brief flutter in that odd sensation, and he gave a sharp, low, irritated keen, turning his eyes off over the market building instead. He watched the streets, the people bustling by, magical redstone drawn wagons and horses, all coming and going.
He’s going to get caught.
Jimmy knew it.
He felt, worryingly, like he couldn’t bear that.
The Next Evening
Jimmy was standing at the corner of the storage shed with Scott, listening to the owner explaining the transfer. As he expected, there had been some adventurers hired to watch over the yard and make sure none of them attempted to take advantage of the handful of minutes their collars would be under no orders. They were pretty standard, with short staves that had greenish glowing gems atop them tucked into their belts or hanging from their fingertips lazily. They were also armed with any other typical gear.
Jimmy shot a glance down toward Scott, who pointedly tucked in his chin and looked aside.
He’s still mad at me.
Well, so be it. The avian wasn’t about to fling himself at some crazy escape scheme just because Scott refused to quit. Besides, considering his beauty and rarity this far inland, Jimmy was surprised Scott hadn’t been sold yet. He was sure it wouldn’t take much longer. Then he’d be gone.
He’d be gone, and Jimmy would never see him again.
The odd sensation in his chest spasmed, and he huffed to himself, folding his arms over his chest, digging his talons a bit harder into the dirt beneath him.
The current owner and the new owner headed inside to start making the transfers. It would take awhile, all of them had individual contracts that had to be signed over. All around the yard, collars flickered and then the red runes went black, as the contracts were broken. They wouldn’t reactivate until new orders were given by their new master.
Jimmy felt the familiar hazy pass of warmth around his collar, and looked cursorily around at the adventurers who’d been hired to keep watch. They didn’t seem very involved, they’d probably been assured that none of them would try anything, anyway. Instead of being dispersed to have a good view of the crowd of hybrids, they were leaning against the wall of the market building, chatting amongst themselves, hands only lightly on their scabbards or resting on their spears.
Jimmy glanced down to Scott again, and saw he was gone.
He’s actually trying it!?
He’d been hoping maybe Scott would get cold feet, but that wasn’t the case. Then again, Jimmy hadn’t known him long, but he was obviously stubborn. The blonde couldn’t explain what possessed him, but he shot another look out at the adventurers, still preoccupied, and darted behind the storage shed.
Scott was there, already atop the crate he’d pushed beneath the roofline.
“Don’t! You’ll get caught!” Jimmy hissed at him, and the mer fixed him with a glare as his eyes began to shimmer, like an oyster shell.
“At least I’m going to try!” He snapped back, then he extended his hands, fingers spread, and the muddy water reacted. When Scott took a step up, the water rushed up beneath his foot and supported him, he kept moving, firm, easy steps like climbing stairs.
Jimmy felt his heart in his throat watching him as he made his way toward the top of the city wall. Past there was forest, and the mountains, and somewhere even further removed the ocean. He was getting close, a few more steps and he could reach the edge.
But Jimmy had known he wouldn’t make it. The avian heard the clatter of armored footsteps, the swish of a cape, and he dove behind another wayward pile of crates as two of the adventurers rounded the corner.
“I knew I sensed magic!” One of them exclaimed. Jimmy didn’t see what happened, but he sensed the tingle of high-energy mana in the air. Avians didn’t use magic, but they were highly attuned to sensing it. Far from the gentle flow of Scott’s water magic, this was a single sharp, bright clash of energy.
Jimmy heard Scott scream.
The voice that he’d grown so used to having at his shoulder. That’d told him stories about the ocean, the shoreline, hybrid cities on islands away from the coast, and places where the sky looked like it went on forever.
A thud of a body crumpling to the ground. Jimmy pressed back harder against the crate, pulling his wings in as tightly as possible.
“The mer, yeah, he did say this one was the most trouble.”
“I’ve never seen a mer before, have you? Pretty thing.”
Jimmy heard the clatter of the armored one approaching where he assumed Scott had collapsed when the magic bolt hit him.
I knew he’d get caught.
Jimmy provided to himself, even as he dug his talons down harder into the grass. His breathing felt erratic, he was being irrational, he knew that.
But that odd swelling sensation in his chest was back, pressing into the walls of his rib cage, trying to force his heart up his throat. The tiny wings on his head were flexed forward and puffed up, defensive and angry.
Do I want to be a caged bird?
The consideration came and went in a sweep, and he moved before he even truly thought about it.
He beat his wings once, little more than a golden blur as he bounded off the city wall to the side and flipped. The armored fighter of the duo was leaning over Scott’s prone body, reaching out intending to drag him back to the yard. Jimmy brought a kick around, closing his talons. He could’ve made it a killing blow, but these guys were guilty of little more than being hired help, and besides, coherency was necessary for killing. Your mind needed to be calm and clear, that was one thing that’d been hammered hard into Jimmy from the time he was fledging in his colony. He whipped his hip through the blow, connecting with the back of the adventurers head. The blunt impact was massive, Jimmy wasn’t exactly being gentle, either, and he began to fall forward. The avian kicked his other talon out, opposable claw closing into the adventurers shoulder pad and yanking. Another beat of his wings, and Jimmy had pinned him, then used him as a springboard to shoot across to the mage. He didn’t even have time to scream or call out for help before Jimmy clotheslined him with the top of one of his wings, directly in the throat. This knocked the wind from him, and he gasped, struggling too draw a breath. Jimmy landed a talon to the ground, then spun into another roundhouse kick, connecting to the mages temple and knocking him out cold with incredible force.
He’d thank his instincts later for telling him he had no time to contemplate what he’d just done. He whirled, rushing the few yards to Scott, who’d landed face-first in the mud. He scooped him up, folded him to his chest, and opened up his wings.
Squeezing his eyes shut for one terrifying second, he opened up his wings and beat them hard. The wind tore into his face and the tiny wings either side of his head kept his gaze focused upward. He climbed and climbed, till the market and the yard were nothing but a speck.
Now that they were up here, at least temporarily safe, the expanse of the sky so incredibly huge, Jimmy began to coast. He had no idea where he was going, aside from it needing to be as far away from the market as possible. But his wings were strong, he knew he could stay in the air for hours without needing to land. They needed to find somewhere to catch their breath and make a plan. All that depended, of course, and when Scott woke up.
That magic bolt was pretty strong…it’ll probably be awhile.
Jimmy considered, looking down. Scott’s head was lolled against his shoulder, his face streaked with mud from the rough landing he’d taken. Best as he could with his weight in his arms, Jimmy rubbed some of the dirt away. The sensation in his chest warmed fondly. He still wasn’t quite sure what it was. But as he looked out over the forest, and back at the city vanishing on the horizon, he came to the conclusion that he was grateful for it. It was this feeling that’d spurred him to act instead of staying hidden.
He flew along, and saw his first sunset from the sky as a free bird.
He’d admit…it somehow made the view that much more stunning.
The stars and moon were bright that night, so he had no trouble flying in the relative dark. His eyes and senses were meant for this, after all. It was only when he saw the horizon lightening with dawn, knew he’d been flying all night, that he figured it would probably be a good idea to land. Flying during the day with his brilliant golden wings, even at such a height, made him easier to spot. Besides, Scott still hadn’t woken up, and it was worrying him. But it was difficult to properly check on the mer while also carrying him like this. They were out over a dense forest, and Jimmy hadn’t seen anything more than a few tiny villages for hours. Slowly, he began to spiral down till he spotted a small break in the canopy. He darted into the leaves shooting his talons out to land on a sizable branch. Pulling Scott tightly to his chest, he pricked his tiny wings back, and focused on his hearing as well as his senses. No humans nearby, at least. Minimal wildlife, nothing that’d be threatening. Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. The he hopped from the branch and billowed his wings to cushion his landing. He immediately set Scott against the trunk and looked him over. No injuries, nothing beyond bruises from falling after getting struck by the magic bolt.
“Scott?” He took the mer’s shoulders and shook gently.
In response, he got a weak groan, and so he shook a little harder.
Finally, blue eyes creaked half open, they were clouded for a moment before sharpening into clarity. “What happened!?” He shot upright, jerking his chin and looking around. Jimmy leaned back, perched on his folded, bird-like legs.
“Um…we’re on the run? Or, the, flight, I guess.” He chuckled weakly.
Scott stared at him, then up into the canopy, then back down again
“You got us out?”
“Yeah, I guess…I gave some thought to what you said…and realized maybe I wanted to…give being a free bird a shot.”
Scott huffed out a long breath, then, in a sudden lurch, he pulled himself up and flung his arms around Jimmy’s neck, pulling him into a hug.
“Thank you.”
Jimmy went rigid in the embrace, then very carefully returned it. He’d been flying along with Scott in his arms this whole time, but for some reason this was overwhelming him.
“Do you feel ok?”
“Terrible, like someone took a mallet to my skull. But who cares?” Scott had pulled back, he looked the avian up and down again.
“What about you? You flew us all the way out here, didn’t you?”
Jimmy nodded to confirm that, then turned his gaze out into the trees. The early morning sun speckled the lush greenery through the canopy. He sighed, then gave an awkward smile as he hooked his arms beneath Scott’s and lifted the mer onto his feet.
“Good. I feel…really good.”
And he did. Even if they were runaways now, stranded off in some forest somewhere, with no clue where they were going, or what to do next.
He felt good. Scott smiled up at him, a sort of contentment in his eyes, before he laced their fingers together. “If that’s the case, we should find somewhere to rest.”
“Right.”
They delved into the forest, the first day of many spent together alone.
Not like either of them minded the company.