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Being on a boat was fun, the child was pretty sure.
The air was cold and salty and whipped around his ears in a way that made him giggle. There were new sounds and sights and smells and people. Most of the people looked kind of like the creature in his food that morning, only much bigger, with arms and legs.
One stands next to him and Buir, saying something about eating and the child, which he knows means him. He coos, happy to be included in anything that involves food. Buir glances at him, considering, but follows the squid man to the middle of the boat.
“That’s close enough,” Buir says, a little worried, but the child pays him no mind because the floor opens up to show water. He watches the squid man dump a bunch of fish in the water, talking as he goes. Bubbles erupt from the water and he giggles, wondering what could make such a fun thing.
The fun, like usual, is short lived and as he leans forward to get a better look, his pod is shoved hard and he’s suddenly over the water.
He hears Buir shout, “No!” and he whimpers, feeling both terror from him and hunger from below. He knows what to do when Buir is scared and quickly presses the button to close his pod, laying down just in time for it to jostle as the feeling of hunger surrounds him and Buir’s fear gets further away.
He hates being shut in the pod. It’s dark and lonely and means he has to be quiet, but this is much, much, worse than usual.
The pod shakes again and he cries out, the feeling of Buir’s fear feeding his own. A horrible sound shrieks into the pod and one side of it bends in, pinning him in place, and he can’t do anything to stop it. He can’t see the hungry thing that has him, he can only sense it’s desire to feed.
He can’t see Buir, can only tell that he is very, very scared. More scared than he’s ever been before. Another shriek sounds and another dent is put in the pod. He cries again, unable to stop himself. By now, Buir should have gotten him. Buir always comes for him, always saves him when things turn scary. It’s never taken this long for Buir to get rid of the scary things.
Buir will come. Even if he’s scared, Buir comes back. Especially if he is scared. Buir will come and make the hungry thing go Quiet and he will hold him and talk softly until he isn’t scared anymore. Buir will come and stroke his ears and call him ad’ika with a kind voice and everything will be okay.
Why hasn’t Buir come yet?
He tries not to cry, it only ever gets him in trouble. It makes scary things come and steal him or hurt him. Staying quiet keeps him safe, like closing the pod. But closing the pod didn’t keep the hungry thing from getting him, and the horrible noises hurt his ears, and Buir is still so very scared.
Crying cannot make it much worse.
He cries. He cries and wails and reaches out to Buir and begs him to come get him. He cries and tries to push at the hungry thing he cannot see but fails. He cries and the hungry thing cries back, screeching and shaking the pod and making him cry harder.
It’s all far too scary and where is Buir?
Buir would not leave him. Buir never leaves him. Even that one time when he thought he did, after he went to sleep, Buir was there. Maybe if he sleeps, Buir will be there when he wakes up? He closes his eyes and folds down his ears, but it is still too loud to sleep. It is loud and scary and he can feel people going Quiet from above and Buir is terrified and it’s so loud.
And then it is all quiet. He quiets himself, reaching out beyond himself. The hungry thing has left forever, but Buir is still far away and scared. Who has him?
Buir’s fear gets closer and closer, and then with a loud clang, the side of the pod is torn off and he cries out at the sound. Hands pluck him from the pod but they are not Buir’s and when he opens his eyes he sees a helmet. Like Buir’s but colored like the water instead of shiny.
“Here you go, little one,” the one in the helmet says and he is passed over to a different pair of hands.
These hands he knows. These hands are Buir’s hands and they hold him gently, careful not to bruise. And there is Buir, shiny and still very scared but calming down. He whimpers and reaches up, and is rewarded with one hand pressed flat against his chest, the other tucking him in close.
Buir breathes heavily as he checks him over, and his fear settles a little. He squeaks at him, his own fear abating. Buir has him. Buir couldn’t come himself, so he sent a friend, like he did before with the droid. Now he is back with his buir, safe and warm in his arms, and everything is okay.
“Thank you,” Buir says to his friends and the child knows he is sincere. Buir is only scared when he could get hurt, and is always grateful to people who help keep him safe.
Buir keeps shifting, looking between him and his friends who look like Buir. His hand pats and pets every inch of him he can reach, always keeping him tucked close to Buir’s side. He squeaks again, hoping Buir will talk to him, but he just lifts him high and adjusts his jacket.
Buir talks to his friends, his fear and breath calming down. The friends take off their helmets, and he squawks, looking up at Buir for an explanation. Buir stands, getting angry, and talks more. Then he is confused, then a complicated emotion that is both and neither. Then they fly off.
He likes flying, it makes the air whip his ears around and feels funny on his face, but he doesn’t like it so much this time.
When they land, Buir pauses before walking off, and it’s only then that he talks to him.
“Hey, ad’ika,” he says softly, lifting the child up higher. “You okay?”
He babbles, reaching out with one hand to try and pat Buir’s helmet. I’m okay, he pushes at him. I’m with you so I am safe.
“I know that was scary. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what they were trying to do sooner.” Buir sighs, sad all of the sudden and he coos sympathetically. He knows Buir doesn’t like it when things try to hurt him, just like how he doesn’t like it when Buir gets hurt.
“You’re okay,” Buir murmurs, stroking his head. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Yes, he coos back. You have me. And I have you. Everything is okay when we’re together.
Buir gently drops his head to press it against his own, and the cold metal makes him giggle. He likes being close to Buir like this. He can look right into that dark spot in his helmet and just barely catch the outline of something like eyes.
He wonders why Buir does not take off his helmet, like the friends do. He’s pretty sure Buir looks like the others, otherwise bits would stick out from underneath. No matter how many times he has tried to duck under it, or pull it up, Buir always pulls him away, telling him, “No, ad’ika.” Why can the friends that look like Buir do it but Buir cannot?
Buir sighs. “Let’s go find somewhere to stay. Maybe something to eat.”
He squeals. Yes, something to eat! Eating is much better than being eaten, except for when the food tries to eat you. No more chowder, he babbles to Buir.
Buir laughs. “Yeah? Is that so?”
“Ah!” he says, flapping his arms for emphasis.
“Alright then.”
Buir touches their foreheads again and he sighs softly. He is with Buir. He is safe.
He is home.