Work Text:
Enter Mr. Littlewood
Year - 1.17.24
🖤 💛 ❤️
"Hey, hey! Break it up, you crazy kids. You're getting dirt all over your fur."
Skizz means well, but Scar ignores him. Not out of malice or even teenage hormones, but just because he got bored watching the furnace and his little brother's an easy target. It starts by batting at him, then plopping hands on his shoulders and shaking him back and forth. Bdubs responded with flattened ears, flashing his teeth. Scar just flashed his right back. Finally, he just knocked him down because Bdubs wasn't fighting back and he really needs to, because it's fun. His glasses jar off his face. They smack across Bdubs' nose.
"Scar," Skizz warns from the food shulker. He's digging around in there, trying to keep Kevin Bubbles from shoving his nose in at the same time. Martyn watches his work like a summer spirit, blond hair fluffed up in a half halo around his head. He really does look like he walked straight out of that ruined ghost town at the bottom of the hill. Probably because he did. He's still holding one hand to his side. Still a little woozy, maybe, after that creeper blast from earlier. Scar can hear him making gentle creeper sounds, hissing in and out on every breath.
"We're just playing," Scar whines back. "You wouldn't snap at a boy who's just playing! I'm an innocent man!" He braces his hind paws in the dirt. The thump when they toppled over knocked his teeth together. His glasses are still off and Bdubs takes full advantage of that. He grabs them from the gravel and throws them as hard as he can in Martyn's direction. Even with the awkward angle, he actually smacks Martyn right in the chin. Martyn stiffens up, turning around. Bdubs gasps, but Scar's the first to blurt out the words.
"You just hit Mom! Through their soulbond!"
"No! I- I'm sorry!" Bdubs squirms, tail lashing and hind paws kicking. "Martyn- Martyn, tell Mom I'm sorry! Oh no…"
Martyn massages the smacked corner of his lips. Wryly, with twisted mouth, he says, "Aw, she'll live. I've felt worse. Plus, she doesn't even know you found me yet."
Scar hooks his fingers behind Bdubs' shoulders. He reels him high enough to bonk him on the head, then slams him to the dirt again. "Ha! You make this too easy. I can't wait until you're bigger."
"Hey! Scaaaar, no fair!"
"Scar." That's Skizz again, this time with a deeper note of warning in his voice. "You're 13. Bdubs is 8. Don't be too rough with him. He bruises easy."
Fine. Scar shrugs, sitting back on his heels. He gets up and trots over to circle Martyn instead. Martyn's still eyeing up the food inside the shulker box, though he snaps his eyes up when Scar leans one hand against it. "Do you have siblings, Mr. Littlewood?" He looks like he would. He's a big guy. He's got muscled arms. He probably won a lot of play-fights. He probably squished a lot of younger phantoms into the dirt.
Martyn doesn't answer. Skizz pulls Scar back by the arm, turning him around. He nudges him in Bdubs' direction. "Hey, let's give Martyn some space. Why don't you go play with Bdubs?"
"You just made me stop playing with Bdubs. I'll have you know, I'm an innocent party in all of this."
"Well, maybe play fetch with Kevin."
Scar glances around their little campsite. The sun glints off the iron axe lying atop the other chest, but that's the only thing nearby that looks like it would be smart to throw. And the axe probably isn't smart to throw. Kevin's a fast runner. One hit could really hurt him. They need to get him nice scutes for armor.
I want a dog.
He doesn't even know what he'd name a dog. It would just be fun to have one. Not to throw axes at, just so we're clear. Sometimes you just need a fluffy body cuddled up beside you late at night. Scar reaches down his hand, stroking the end of his tail. It's not quite the same. Sort of, though.
I want a horse. Dad has a friend who likes horses. And Skizz had a horse named Gluestick once upon a time. Scar's not sure what happened to him, but maybe nothing good.
He settles for a different game of crouching down, waiting for food to be set on the crafting table. He's not left to wait for long. Skizz breaks off both heels of the bread loaf and sets them on his own plate before handing the rest to Martyn. While his back is turned, Scar grabs them both, ducks behind the crafting table again, and shoves one in Bdubs' lap.
Shouldn't have turned your back, Uncle Skizz. You know who you're dealing with!
Bdubs wastes exactly zero time, because he is ah-mayzin' at picking up on cues. He lets out a wolfish snarl and starts tearing the bread to pieces with his teeth. "Hey!" Skizz cries a second later, and Scar and Bdubs fall back in giggles, kicking their legs. Scar bangs the crafting table with his foot. That kicks off a puff of mining magic and pops it from the ground. The block tumbles aside. It also deprives them of any shelter, so Scar and Bdubs are both exposed when Skizz swoops down on them with arms extended. He grabs one of them in the crook of each. Two ribbons of purple silk touch magic is all it takes to take their weight and breath away. Scar shrieks, kicking again, and tries to swim to freedom. His glasses jar halfway off his face. Bdubs shakes his head back and forth, still ravishing his bread.
"You two little miscreants! What's your mother been feeding you, huh? C'mon!" He shakes them back and forth. Scar flops down. Maybe he can spider crawl away. He almost drops his bread heel. Skizz could probably twist his hand and pinch it from him, but he doesn't. He just plants a kiss on Scar's temple.
"Hey, stop! That's gross! I'mma tell Mom you kissed me!"
Skizz chuckles, but plops both kids down on their feet. "Hey, you boys still hungry? Is it time to break out the courage carrots, or should we hold off a little longer?"
Bdubs nods, even though his cheeks are stuffed with enough bread to feed a dozen ant colonies. That's not a helpful answer, so Scar pipes in with, "I can wait. Here." He holds out the bread chunk. It's a little squashed on one side. You can tell where his fingers gripped it tight. Still, it's not too bad. It isn't even stale yet. Mom made it fresh before they packed for this weekend trip. "You can have this back. Aw, I was just messin' with ya, Uncle Skizz…"
Although, I wouldn't mind the chance to touch that netherite sword you plucked off Martyn. Perhaps we could make a trade.
"You can keep it," Skizz says, as breezy as a cloud under daylight. Scar jolts. Did he say that aloud? But by that point, Skizz is already babbling on. "I'll make you both some sandwiches. Is it cool if I get Martyn settled in first? He's 'hungy.'"
Scar nods. He squeezes off a chunk of bread and stuffs it in his mouth. While he chews, Skizz sets the crafting table up again. Bdubs flops across it before any items can drop inside the sockets. Because he's Bdubs, so of course he does. He dangles one arm, fingers pinched around his remaining scraps of bread.
"Are you really a phantom hybrid?" he asks Martyn. Martyn's already halfway through his loaf (and completely ignoring Kevin's pining eyes in the process). It takes a fumbling moment for him to swallow, and even then, he blocks his mouth with one hand to hide that he is mortal and requires chewing, too.
"Uh, yeah? Why wouldn't I be? I'm not in the habit of telling porkies; I've got my wings right here." He swishes his cloak back at one side. The green cloth flaps. One wing stays tucked, but the other one extends. It's midnight blue, lined with exposed bone along the top. The membrane is ragged. Scar studies the hem of his cloak, which is pockmarked with black scorches and tears. With the cloak flapped aside, he also gets a fair glimpse at Martyn's leg. Once he sees the old burn, Scar understands instantly why Skizz recognized this stranger as Mom's long-lost soulmate. The way it's blotched up leaves it undeniably a Nether fire burn. It's brown and patterned like a lapping wave, lighter near the ankle and darker the higher up the thigh it goes.
Bdubs wrinkles his nose. In answer to Martyn's question, he shrugs - still upside-down - and says, "I dunno. I've never seen any phantoms that still had wings before."
"Aw, nah," Martyn drawls. "I'm so glad to be back in the Overworld with you fine gentlemen… It's a dream come true for me."
Skizz pats him twice behind the shoulder. "Hey, don't you worry about that. If anybody gives you any trouble, I know a guy who can put them in their place."
Scar chews his bread in silence, watching the bobbing motion Martyn makes with his head as he eyeballs the angel wing elytra hanging from the straps down Skizz's back. The elytra ripple with quiet magic. They pick up Skizz's emotions just as easily as they sense the mental command to take flight. Skizz seems to realize this at the exact same time, because he inhales. He half blocks the lower wing with one hand.
"These were… These elytra have been passed down my family for generations. Mine's custom; it's still got mending enchants from the old days. I don't… I don't like hurting mobs, or hybrids. I don't use phantom membranes for repairs. Uh, does it make you uncomfortable? Do you want me to take 'em off?"
Martyn swallows a bit of bread. "You can keep 'em on, but let me put it this way: if you were my soulmate, I'd consider walking out."
Scar's tail spikes up. He shoots a glance at Bdubs, who doesn't notice. He's trying to toss and catch bread crumbs in his mouth, kicking his legs. His tail swishes in the dirt. Skizz rubs his hands against his legs, forcing a smile in return.
"Ah. Got it."
Bdubs tosses a tiny piece of bread Martyn's way, urging him to turn around. "Hey. Where'd you used to live before the Nether?"
"I've got Southlander pride, my dude. Glorious wheat fields and beautiful tall towers the whole way around. Glass and crystal wherever you look; I used to see the Bread Bridge every day."
"Are you divorced?" Scar blurts out. He plants his elbow in his brother's stomach, making Bdubs seize and gasp. It's funny. Scar leaves it there even when Bdubs aims a kick at his ribs. Martyn stops, another pinch of bread halfway to his mouth.
"Why would you say that? Do I give off that kind of vibe? Aw, no. Am I bouncing back strong or do I come off like a pathetic loser? You've only known me like an hour, Scar!"
"You've got a ridge on your finger." Scar traces the dent around his own knuckle, studying Martyn the whole time. "Right there… but no ring."
Martyn glances down. The knuckle is bare. "Aha," he says. The word wobbles. "Yes, well… That's a little complicated. I, um… My ring was, um…"
Skizz swishes a warning look in Scar's direction, and Scar shuts up fast. He takes off his glasses and starts playing with the arms, folding and unfolding them so they click. Once Skizz starts getting upset, it's best not to look at him. His eyes get really creepy when he's mad. "I do like storytime," he says, and tries to keep a cheerful sense of play bouncing in his voice. "But you don't have to tell me. No, you don't have to tell me at all. Gah, I wish I'd brought my crystals. I think you'd like them. I have a courage crystal… and a love crystal, and a silvertongue crystal-"
"A love crystal?" Martyn instantly snaps all his attention around. Scar jerks up his head, stepping back. Martyn's eyes are wide and pinned against his face. Skizz watches from the background, pushing Kevin's head away from the meat in his hands. Then his expression deflates. "Oh. With fox magic. That's different."
"It is?" Scar opens and closes his hands. Mom always says he has 'terraformer's hands'- short fingers, tipped with claws, and wide palms for churning up dirt. Scar's still practicing crafting magic in school, and he's barely started mining. He can do wood and wool, because they're soft, but stone is still out of reach until he's older. He glitters white magic particles across his hands anyway, bouncing an imaginary shooting star between both hands. This would be a fantastic moment for a gust of wind to billow at his ears and tail. The wind stays soft and warm, though, and barely breezing at his face. "I've never heard that before…"
Skizz clears his throat. "Hey Martyn, maybe it's… not… I mean, they're-"
"Right, right. Sorry. Kids. Just, I don't need a fox love crystal. You guys mate for life, and the risk I'd be taking-"
Scar barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. Maybe it's the fox genes. It's a high-pitched, zigzagging yip that echoes across the empty hills. "Well, that's not true! Etho's our dad, and he pretty much checked out when I was born."
"Kinda true," Bdubs says, semi-helpfully. That's a good word to describe Bdubs in any situation. He's a figure on a chessboard with one trick up his sleeve. He's still lying on the crafting table, eating nibbles of bread. He's probably got crumbs all inside his ragged shirt. "Dad stayed with Mom on Red. It only stopped working when they got back up to Yellow. Maybe his heart got reset." He points at Scar with his remaining crust of bread. "Hey, maybe your brain will get reset if you ever get up to Green."
That's…
… not a comforting thought. Scar flicks his tail back and forth, grinding his thumbs against his palms. Everyone talks about how your mind shifts when you go Red. But can that happen on Yellow and Green? He maybe speculated in the schoolyard with his friends once or twice, and maybe a couple times with his cousins, but…
… those are just ideas. Theorycrafting, as they say.
Skizz is trying to speak, but Scar cuts him off with the first question he can think of, just to get his mind off it. "Hey, Mr. Littlewood? If you're Mom's 'one true soulmate,' how come she had us with Etho?"
Martyn half chokes on his bread. Scar's shameless; he chases his gaze wherever it flicks, shifting his weight between his paws, too. Like him, Martyn's on his Yellow life. Scar likes to think his own eyes are wide and innocent, lashes fluttering. His relationship with Etho was poisoned long ago; he has no opinion on Martyn either way.
But they just found this guy hunkered down in an abandoned game show studio, coated with Nether burns. This guy's been exiled. And he's been divorced. Scar doesn't mind the man yet, but if he starts making moves on Mom, Scar might have to stick out a leg and trip him up. He isn't sure yet. Will have to think about it. He doesn't have the highest hopes. If Martyn's been exiled, he needs to hear that story before making a full decision.
Bdubs, however, has no such hesitations. "Mom always says she hates you," he says, utterly disinterested, and Martyn's face could be a meme. You know: Cleo, pick me up- I'm scared.
"All right," says Skizz, gathering himself together again. Scar backs away, eyeing the silk touch magic cracking bright and purple around Skizz's fingertips. Martyn lifts one hand to stop him, still chewing his bread. He shakes his head and swallows, then brushes crumbs off his lips.
"Well, love's got nothing to do with being soulmates, right? Just because you've got a soulmate somewhere out there, it doesn't mean you put your life on pause."
"I guess so," Scar murmurs, sticking his thumbs in his pockets. He wishes he'd worn shorts. He keeps hiking them up, trying to keep them from dragging in the dirt. It's summer. He should've definitely worn shorts, like he does when he's out in the yard. Or maybe he'll get a cool cloak like the one Martyn has. "Mom's always been the only one on our street not living with her soulmate. Some people call her names. I think… they'll be glad we found you. Mom will."
"Aw, well… That's just plain rude. Do they really? Do they not get that there are thousands and thousands of people in this world, and coordinating meet-ups between soulmates can take a pretty long time? Back in the Southlands, I knew all sorts of people who hadn't found their soulmate yet."
Bdubs blows a raspberry, turning all attention back to him. "Don't listen to Scar! He doesn't tell the whole story. I'm telling truths. They don't call her names because she's soulmate-less. They call her names 'cuz she's always got so many guys over. I can't believe I'm her youngest kid."
"Bdubs!" That's Skizz, voice snapping up with shock.
"What? I am!"
"Don't talk about your mother that way! Cleo's a beautiful woman who works really hard, and you shouldn't talk about anybody like that… and especially not someone who's tried their best to raise you both for 13 years."
Scar scoffs before he can stop himself. It wins him a ferocious enderman kind of glare. He takes off his glasses again, trying to rub away a corner smudge. It doesn't work. "Ah," says Martyn, light and deflective. He turns his attention to the furnace again. His wings are still covered by the cloak. Scar wonders if they're shaking. Martyn's hands are shaking just a little around his remaining bits of bread. "I'll try not to overstay my welcome, then."
Bdubs kicks his legs like he's already forgotten that thing he spurted about Mom seething all the time about Martyn. "Are you and Mom gonna have a soulbond ceremony? Can I be your flower boy? And there needs to be milk, because Mom says I can't drink 'spirits' until I'm older than you are, probably. It was spirits, right, Scar?"
"Um. Yeah, sure." Scar very much doubts that 'older than you are' comment. Martyn is young, maybe. A little younger than Skizz for sure. But he's not that young. He's definitely closer to Mom than he is to Scar. Martyn laughs, but Scar picks up the jumpiness that rattles every letter.
"I, uh… I haven't even met your mom. It sounds like she's a spunky woman though and I'm sure we have a lot to talk about."
Scar clears his throat. "Mom uses she/they. Just, um. So you know."
Martyn glances at Skizz, who slightly inclines his head. "Are you fun?" Bdubs asks, leaning one leg in the air.
"Am I… fun?"
"Yeah. Like a dad."
Scar looks up, fingers tight around his glasses' edge. It's early afternoon. The sky's so blue, you could draw a cloud on it and turn it in for homework. Martyn stares back at Bdubs, wings shifting beneath his dark green cloak. His fingers tighten in the half-eaten bread loaf. He turns to Skizz, then changes his mind. "Uh, yeah. They used to call me 'Netherwart' back in high school… because I'm a 'fun guy.'"
It's a goofy joke, even if it's said in such a quavering voice. Until meeting Martyn, Scar always thought those stories about "changing skins" when you're anxious were exaggerating. And maybe they are, but Martyn looks like his skin might shift colors at any moment, his fingers plucking at his collar. Scar smiles before Bdubs pipes up again: "Can I have ice cream?"
Now Martyn looks completely flummoxed. He shifts his eyes to the crackling furnace (Hot), then to the shulker box (Cold; ice blocks) and to Bdubs again. "Did… did you bring that on a camping trip? I mean… I wouldn't put it past you. We used to make homemade ice cream in the Southlands all the time. Do you have cows?"
"Oh, yes," Bdubs says, nodding like a librarian with a thousand books. He's a little librarian who's read every single one. "We don't have the cows, but we kill 'em! Mom makes stuff out of leather and she brings back the milk and cream. I love steak."
"… You-?"
Skizz gets up then, making waving motions to shoo Bdubs off the crafting table. "Hey, kids… Maybe you should go play down by the stream. Martyn and I have a lot to talk about."
Bdubs oozes off, grumbling all the while. Scar puts his glasses back on and gives Martyn a wave good-bye. "Race you to that rock that looks like a big boat," he tells Bdubs, and takes off before Bdubs has even fully processed what he said. Kevin starts barking, charging at his heels.
"HEY!
"Not too far!" Skizz calls. "It's still creeper spawning season! Careful! … Scar?"
"Yeah!" he shouts back, because he's gotta save his breath. Bdubs is hard behind him and Kevin Bubbles is underfoot.
"I'll- leave you eating dust, Scar-"
"No! Not true, not true! That is one thousand percent not true. I'd beat you even if you had a head start."
Bdubs coughs, sucking up every puff of air he can get. "Let's- Let's test that, then! You wanna test?"
"I'm down for a little science!" Scar turns back to face him, scrambling backwards as he goes. These lush hills are full of grass, not rocks like it was at the creek. Bdubs isn't even running into obstacles- he just really is that slow. "We're like science bros! We are the science bros, science bros- WHAA-!"
Something happened. What happened? The hills were soft and filled with grass, but as soon as he turned his head, it's like the universe glitched out. The world drops out beneath his feet. His stomach flips into his brain. Scar's cheery voice swirls into a scream. Bdubs screeches, jumping forward with hand outstretched.
"SCAR!"
Whooshing air- There's a blur of black spots across Scar's vision. He's not- He's hardly even processed that he's falling when he slams into something soft and squishy. Skizz tumbles backward, arms engulfing Scar like a giant hug, and they hit the ledge of the ravine together. At least, it must have been a ravine. Scar hears the grunt and distinct beep of Skizz's communicator reporting that he just took a couple ticks of damage. Skizz's wings twitch up. Oh no, Scar thinks, his mind a buzzy blur. Did his elytra break? Oh no…
Then he starts to process the little puzzle pieces. They click together again. He wriggles up, pushing his hands from Skizz's chest, and stares with wide eyes around the ravine. He and Skizz definitely hit a ledge. It goes down much, much further.
I don't remember this drop when we rode the minecarts…
Skizz pushes up on one hand, groaning and clutching the other to his head. Scar, in a moment of panic, turns to check the color of his eyes. He doesn't know why that fear jump-started his brain. If that drop had killed either of them, they'd be waking in their beds back in the campsite where they set their spawn, leaving Yellow corpses to rot and zombie-fy. Skizz is glittering with black and purple. He must've used a huge whip of ender-poofing magic to jump that far. Yeah… that would have been one of his bigger jumps. Scar licks his lips, pushing his hand across his nose.
"I… I…"
"Scar…" Skizz's arms slide around him again, pulling him in for a squeezing hug. There's another blur of magic. The world stretches, wraps, and snaps together again. Next thing Scar knows, he's back on solid ground, standing, leaning most his weight on Skizz. They're at the top of the ravine, and it looks way deeper from up here. Skizz pulls in a shaky breath, forehead pressed against Scar's own. His angelic elytra wings are trembling harder than any of the rest of him. His palms slide up to grip Scar's cheeks. "That was… Oh, wooo. That was almost your Red life origin story. Oh my gods, Scar, Cleo would kill me if I brought you home in a burial cloth. You have to be careful."
Scar slaps Skizz's hand away, rubbing his cheek. His chest is tingling. His tail won't stay still, and his ears aren't doing any better. His everything aches, and his everything that doesn't is twitching back and forth. "I'm fine! I'm not fragile! I'm… I'm…"
I almost died… I was… I would've died, if Skizz hadn't caught me…
"… Thanks." It comes out very, very small. Then, louder, "I'm not fragile… I just wanted to run. I'm allowed to run."
"I get you," Martyn says, sweeping close. He tousels Scar's hair with his fingertips. Scar looks up, blinking through the brown curls rustling in front of his face. He's got one white streak in his hair, from Etho. He's got a couple. He tries not to think about it too hard. Martyn takes his hand away, realizing in that moment that he overstepped. Scar sees the regret flashing in his eyes. But Martyn covers quickly with, "Who wants to put their life on hold? Kids oughta run. We're out in the hills, miles and miles from any other people. In fact, screw talking to Skizz. I should be right here with you taking advantage!"
"Excuse me?" Skizz drawls.
"Aw, come on!" Martyn tears his cloak off, pulling it over his head. He wriggles out of it. The green cloth plummets to the dirt. Scar steps back, eyes going wide. For the first time since they met him, Martyn extends his phantom wings. They're just as ragged as they looked… and they're big. Scar keeps taking sideways steps to give him room, stumbling over his own paws. Martyn sweeps his wings out to their maximum length. They're bat-like - dragon-like, maybe - and the sun hits them in a way that almost makes them sizzle. Maybe it does? Martyn winces a little, suddenly lifting one hand to filter sunlight through his fingers instead of taking a direct blast to the face. He tests his wings. They sweep up a cloud of dirt. Kevin Bubbles leans against Scar's leg, sniffing doubtfully at the air.
"Whoa…" Scar blinks. He blinks again. "I wish I had wings like that…" Why couldn't YOU be our dad? Then I'd have wings.
He feels guilty. Scraps that thought aside. He may not be the biggest fan of Etho, but it's not like Mom planned to get pregnant on Red. And the thin-eyed look Martyn shoots him cuts off every thought before it can continue.
"Aw," says Martyn. There's neither pity nor affection in his voice. "Hey, maybe you'll get elytra someday. Then I guess you'll get to try flying for yourself." He crouches low, wings tilting back, and gets ready to spring. Scar shifts aside again to give him room. Skizz watches, holding Bdubs' hand in his own.
"Can you carry me?" Scar blurts out. Martyn stops. His wings crumple down, just a bit. He straightens out, turning his head, and Scar ignores Skizz's warning call not to bother Martyn. Scar fiddles with his fingertips, pulling back and forth. Stranger danger has been burned into his head ever since he was a kid, though Mom relaxed her standards once Bdubs got older since they lived in such a peaceful Green-filled town.
"… Yeah. I'll carry you."
"Hey!" Bdubs cries, stepping forward. "No fair! I'm smaller! Can I ride?"
"Nah," says Martyn, and laughs when Bdubs' face plunges the same way Scar did when he tumbled into the ravine. Martyn holds his arms to Scar, beckoning him near. "Oldest child privileges… It's not an easy life, huh? Yeah. I've been there once before."
Scar elects not to check Skizz's expression. He steps forward, holding his arms out to Martyn. Instead of sweeping him up then and there, Martyn takes a few seconds to look at him, holding one hand near his chest like he's fighting every instinct to reach out and touch Scar's skin. Scar searches Martyn's face, too. They both have Yellow eyes. Martyn has a burn mark coating the area around his left eye in a red-brown mark, just like the one Mom has. Scar's mind flits back to what Martyn said in the game show studio when he said 'My son.' '18 hours of labor.' That's what he said.
"I think Mom will like you," Scar says. It makes Martyn blink, pulling his thoughts out of wherever they were wandering. Martyn holds out his arms. Scar steps towards him, wrapping his around Martyn's neck. Martyn shifts around a bit, scooping him up in a sort of bridal carry… not that Scar ever saw Etho carry his mom like that.
"You think so?"
"If she doesn't, I'll rekindle a spark. I'll find you better love crystals."
Martyn laughs. He takes a few running steps, slipping towards a crouch, and launches himself off with a heavy pump of wings. A glitter of bright white flight magic dances across them both. Scar's fingers tighten in his neck and shirt. Martyn dives forward, then swoops in the air with all the grace of a weightless bird. Scar's stomach drops away. The wind blusters past them, the air turning colder, and his ears pop and his legs are shaking and Scar presses his face in Martyn's neck, fingers seizing up.
But only for a minute. He lifts again, turning his head. There's no way he can see behind them, past Martyn's giant wings, but the gold and green of long summer grass hits like churning ocean waves, and every hill stretches on forever. All the trees look like little puffs of wool. He can feel every shift Martyn makes with his wings, tilting his weight and magic layers back and forth. Each wing thrust is smooth, not jerky the way Scar imagined it. Martyn starts circling back so they don't stray too far from Bdubs and Skizz.
"Oh… Wow."
Can you be my godfather?
He keeps that thought tucked away, burying his face in Martyn's neck once more.