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The boy has been walking for a long time.
Forever, maybe.
The forest is bright around him, with giggles in the undergrowth. There was a wide, clear path at some point, but the boy has left it. He was curious about this forest and its vivid greens and reds, like a forest written about in a book by someone who has never been to a real forest. The dreamer’s forest, he thinks.
There is a crash in the undergrowth, and some irritable cursing.
The boy cannot stop, but he doesn’t speed up. The crash will follow him or it won’t.
It does, and soon there is a dove flying beside him.
“Hey, pumpkin,” the dove says.
“Hello,” the boy replies. The dove keeps pace with him as he continues, hovering at his side.
“Wow, what a walk in the woods. I see now why I never, ever go hiking in my spare time,” the dove says. The boy shrugs.
“I think it’s nice.”
The undergrowth is thick, but it parts for him. The dove has to fly close in order to avoid being hit.
“Yeah, love the fuckin’…weedy deathtrap,” the dove says. “Hey, I should make a fantasy vape trick called that. Mag–Maggie would think that’s real cool.”
“I didn’t know birds could vape,” the boy says politely. The dove lights down on his shoulder as he ducks under a low branch before taking off again.
“Not usually a bird, kiddo. That one’s on you,” it says.
“You can ride on my shoulder,” the boy offers. “I don’t mind.”
The bird ruffles its feathers mid-flight. “How about fucking no,” it says. “You shouldn’t offer that.”
It flaps in the boy’s face. “Actually, what the fuck’s with the dove thing anyway? You couldn’t see me as a, as a fuckin’ T-Rex? A mongoose? Something cool? All a bird can do is fly, I can already do that, I’m magic.”
“Sorry,” the boy says.
“Shouldn’t say that here, either. Be careful what you offer, sweetheart,” the dove says. It preens the boy’s hair. “Debts here are a bad idea.”
“I’ll get my student loans somewhere else,” says the boy. The dove snorts, and it occurs to him, distantly, that that isn’t something doves are usually known to do.
“You’ve got the smartest, richest people in the world lining up to give you a free education, kiddo, that’s not gonna be an issue.” It flies ahead for a moment and gets hit by a branch.
“Seriously, fuck this place,” it complains. “You should go home. Less stupid trees, and the ones we do have are attached to our stupid friends.”
The boy looks around him. The trees don’t look stupid to him. They look very friendly.
“You can go if you want,” he says. “I’m walking here.”
“Bada bing, bada boom,” the dove mutters, but it makes no move to leave.
Boy and dove keep walking in silence, before the boy remembers his manners. He’d never thought he would forget those.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “What’s you name? Mine is–”
“Nope!” the bird interrupts. “No names until we’re home. It’s no good here, this isn’t a naming space.”
The boy is grateful, because now that it’s come up, he can’t seem to think of a name. It’s a slippery thought and it keeps getting away from him.
The dove seems to take pity on him.
“You can call me T…erry…miah,” it says. “Uh, yeah. Terry…miah. Terrymiah. That’s a name, and it’s for me.”
The boy frowns. “That doesn’t sound like a real name,” he says.
The dove gives the impression of a shrug. “That’s ‘cause it ain’t. You want a real name, you’ll have to find it yourself.”
“You can’t give it to me?” the boy asks.
“No,” says the dove. There is a beat of silence.
“I think Justin would be a better fake name,” the boy says.
“That’s my fake train name,” says the dove. “This is my fake dove name. Get it together An–gst machine. Angst machine.”
“What’s your real human name?” asks the boy.
“I think that one’s also Justin. I’m not a real human.”
“Fantasy human?” the boy guesses. He kind of likes this game.
“Not that, either. It’s not a good idea to give out too much identifying information right now.” The dove bats his shoulder with a wing. “We gotta get where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?” the boy asks.
“Depends on you. I vote home with a cozy fire to burn these fuckers right up and a nice meal. Can you eat fairies?” It stares into the undergrowth and the giggling fades. The forest seems darker with it gone.
“You don’t have to be rude,” says the boy. “My grandpa–”
He stops. Talking, not walking. He keeps on walking.
“Sorry, what?” he asks.
The dove follows. “You were telling me about your grandpa,” it says, softer than before.
The boy shakes his head. “I don’t think I have a family,” he says. “I don’t remember anyone who misses me. No one has called me home. I’ve been walking for an awfully long time. If someone loved me, wouldn’t they come visit me?”
The dove shakes its head.
“Look, kiddo, I can’t force you to believe you have or don’t have a family,” it says. “Like, I could tell you there are people who would fight extraplanar malevolent entities that scare the shit out of them specifically because they don’t want your home to die or you in it, but it goes in one ear and out the other if you don’t wanna believe it. And I know you can’t remember shit right now, and that–that sucks. It kinda trumps everything. One minute you’re telling your brother-in-law not to give up and the next your entire identity is ‘from TV!’ and that sucks.”
It clears its throat. “Not, uh. Not that that specific example has anything to do with anything. I just, uh, literally anyone would be better at this, fuck. But, uh, I have a family that’s looking for a little boy, if you’re in the market,” it says, almost shyly.
“You have a family who would want me?” the boy asks. He has a feeling, a vague, fleeting impression, that he shouldn’t be wanted. That he has never been wanted, and this forest is the only place that will love him.
“Yeah, I got one in mind,” the dove says. “It’s big. And loud. And everyone would get you the same edition of the same dumb book and you’d have like thirty copies of Caleb Cleveland: Kid Cop Volume fuckity whatever, but only mine would be signed, so that one’s better.”
“I don’t know how to be family with a dove. Like, with biology. Don’t you only live like, five years?” the boy asks. He is intrigued by Caleb Cleveland, though. “Are the books good?”
The dove snorts. “Trust me, bubeleh, I’ve already long outlived what I’m supposed to, I got another few centuries in ol’, uh…Terrymiah…yet. And the books’re great, if you’re into nerd shit like that. My husband does shitty voices for all the characters.”
“I think you could do some voices too,” says the boy.
“Yeah, but mine are the fucking bomb. I own those characters,” the dove says.
The boy has a sneaking suspicion that he does not, in fact, own those characters. He has an inkling that Terrymiah the dove is a big liar.
“What about the story? Is it like a mystery?” The boy likes the idea of a mystery. A cool little puzzle to solve with his dads and moms and assorted aunts and uncles. He hopes it’s a really big family.
“Well there’s, uh, in this last one there’s a diamond heist,” the dove says. “I did a way cooler one a while ago, but this one’s okay too. Caleb has to find out who did it, only there’s these two gangs having a war and its messing up all the evidence. But it turns out, they’re having a war over diamonds! And Caleb’s gotta find out, see, are these the same diamonds? Were they sold off after the heist or are the gangs involved? And his mom wants him to help decorate for Candlenights but he’s gotta find all these diamonds, you know, catching crooks and solving clues, and–”
“And he has to hide the diamonds in the decorations!” Angus cheers.
“Wh–yeah!” the dove says. “He does! ‘cause he keeps finding ‘em and his police dude is MIA and shit!”
“That’s such a good book,” Angus says. “Can we read it again?”
“Absolutely,” the dove agrees. “Can’t believe I came all this way and it was Caleb fuckin’ Cleveland to–but yeah. Just as soon as we get home, okay, pumpkin? And after, like, a nap. Spell slots.”
“Spell slots?” Angus asks. The dove isn’t carrying a wand.
“Don’t worry about it. I got some more in me yet. Is that a clearing?” the dove hovers a little ahead, right in front of Angus’s face. He pushes it to the side, and it’s definitely suspect how it’s hovering just there and not falling or straining at all.
As he thinks it, the dove falls to the earth.
“Sir!” he says, kneeling next to it. “Are you–did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to see the clearing, I’m so–”
The dove rolls awkwardly until it finds its feet and shakes off its feathers, all wounded pride and apparently not at all wounded physically for the fall.
“Now you realize how fucking doves work,” it mutters.
“Sorry, sir,” Angus says, chastened. The dove hits him with a wing.
“Don’t even, it’s this place. You’re a little boy and all. We should keep going, though. Not a good idea to stay in one place.” It flaps its wings once, twice, but doesn’t gain any air.
“Do you need a lift, sir?” Angus asks. Come to think of it, he’s not sure why this dove is a sir.
“Fuck you, I can fucking fly,” it says. Angus decides to ignore it and put it on his shoulder again.
“I’m gonna imaginary shit on your imaginary shirt,” it threatens. Angus shrugs.
“Okay, sir,” he says. He feels like there are a lot of things his new friend says that he can safely ignore. “Why are there so many things that aren’t a good idea here?”
The dove begins smoothing its ruffled feathers. “You aren’t from here,” it explains. “I’m descended from this kind of place, distantly, but you aren’t. It’s why it messes with your head, and anything that stumbles across us here will have a home field advantage.”
That doesn’t sound good.
“How do we get home?” Angus asks. He stumbles a bit as he enters a brightly-lit clearing.
“How indeed,” says a new voice, a light that dances in the clearing. “Do you want to go home, little one? Truly?”
Angus feels dizzy, almost, staring directly into dazzling light. It’s beautiful. Like nothing he’s ever seen.
Taako attacks it.
“You get the fuck away from my magic boy, you half-corporeal light show!” he says, beating it with wings and talons, and then he isn’t a dove anymore, he’s a bear standing between the fae and Angus.
With a powerful swipe of his claws, he dispels it. Dead or gone, Angus isn’t sure.
“Really, kiddo?” Taako turns around. “Is this an I’Morko thing? Mama bear thing? I refuse to be part of it, if so.”
He turns into a dragon. Smaller than an adult dragon really should be, maybe horse-sized, but he seems to be the correct size for Taako, Angus thinks.
Taako shakes his head and stretches his wings out, giving them a hard flap.
“Now this is more like it!” he says. “Seriously, though, now that one of ‘em’s found you, we really gotta go. Clearing’s a good sign but we’re not out of the woods yet.”
He lowers his long neck to look closely at Angus.
“Actually. You carried me a bit, right? There’s a debt there. How about I carry you some, too?” he proposes.
“You told me not to do debts,” Angus says.
Taako snorts flame that doesn’t hurt. “Either way. I can’t carry you out of the woods, I can only help you on your way.”
Angus thinks hard. That seems important.
“Why are you here, anyway? And not home with your husband or your big family?” he asks.
Taako shrugs his massive shoulders, and Angus hops on his back. It seems more efficient that way, he thinks. And he gets this feeling he can trust Taako.
He’s also riding a dragon, and that is really, really cool.
Taako shoots through the woods, breathing fire at any obstructions, and then ice once Angus realizes that he’s a silver dragon and really shouldn’t be able to use fire.
“Hubby’s not really able to visit here,” he says. “This is a plane without death. Same goes for most everyone else, really. Either they’d forget like you did or they’re not allowed. Politics, mostly.”
“Why can I make you into other things?” Angus presses.
“‘cause fuck the Feywild, that’s why,” Taako says. He does not seem inclined to comment further.
Angus chews his lip. There’s one other thing he really needs to know.
He hunches over Taako. He’s very warm, and then he realizes that dragons are cold-blooded and Taako is an ice dragon and he is comfortable cool. There is something familiar and safe about the chill, he thinks.
He gathers his courage from that.
“If I go home, can I stay with you?” he asks. His final question, he promises himself. He won’t be a bother if the answer is no. He’ll be fine.
“We’ve already got the bedroom set up, be a hell of a waste if you weren’t there to use it,” Taako says, slowing to a trot.
“That’s okay, I–really?” Angus asks. “Just for me?”
Taako shrugs. “You know it, kiddo. You got other places to stay, but mine is rad and I don’t know why you’d live anywhere else.”
There’s light filtering in through the trees and they’re beginning to thin out again.
Angus clutches Taako’s back.
“Is that gonna be another one?” he asks, hiding as best he can in the mane Taako develops. Taako nudges him with his tail.
“I’ll be damned,” he says. “I didn’t think we could get here while I was carrying you. We’re almost home.”
Angus clutches tighter.
“What if your husband doesn’t like me? Will you put me back because you like him better?” he asks.
“Fuck no, I’ll kick his ass,” Taako says. “He loves you, you do nerd shit together and he thinks you’re the hot shit.”
Angus isn’t convinced.
“What about your big family? That’s a lot of people. What if they don’t like me?” he insists.
“Kick their asses too. I like you,” Taako tells him plainly. “An–Ango, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”
And just like that, he trots out of the woods, and they’re in their yard, in their home back in Neverwinter. Mister Kravitz is pacing the length of the house, and Miss Lup is barbecuing hot dogs.
“–even worry about ‘em, Angus is clever as hell. He’ll be saving Taako’s disaster ass, I’m calling it now,” she says. Mister Kravitz says something too low to hear, turns in his pacing, and spots them.
“Taako! Angus!” he calls. Angus reaches past Taako’s shoulders, and falls right out of his piggyback. He hadn’t even noticed Taako returning to elf form.
(”Oh, the labor,” Taako groans, and Lup conjures a mage hand to hit him over the head).
“Mister Kravitz!” he calls, and Mister Kravitz picks his up and holds him close and spins him, even colder than usual but brimming with affection.
“You scared us, Angus, don’t ever do that again,” he reprimands. “You could have been gone! Kaput! I never would have found you! Don’t wander off like that!”
Taako drapes himself over both of them. “Aw, don’t worry about it, Bone Daddy. All’s well that ends well.” His eyes are dark with worry, though. “How ‘bout it, kiddo? Lingering memory loss, disorientation, sense of unreality? You know who you are?”
“Yes, sir,” Angus confirms. “I’m Angus McDonald, Boy Detective! Did you tell Miss Lucretia I was trapped in the Feywild? I was supposed to meet her for lunch, but I think I’m late.”
Kravitz combs his fingers through his hair. “Three days late, in fact. She’s inside with everyone else. And you, love, need to get back to your body,” he says to Taako, who now that Angus looks at him is looking remarkably incorporeal.
“You didn’t take me out of my body, did you?” Angus asks worriedly. He feels his hands. They seem solid.
“Naw, kiddo, you’re all here,” Taako says, swiping a hand through him to show it. “Can’t even touch you now that we’re not in the Feywild. Merle’ll do his shitty cleric thing to be sure, but you’re fine.”
“And nothing bad is going to happen to me while you’re around,” Angus says. Taako groans and mutters about embarrassment and his brand and swears an oath of vengeance.
Angus remembers what he said, though, as Kravitz carries him inside and the exhaustion hits. Apparently walking for three days straight takes it out of you.
He repeats it to himself as he falls asleep.
I like you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.
He believes it.