Chapter Text
In hindsight, Tango regretted everything that he was doing.
It was far too late at night to be running headfirst into the woods, no matter how jerky the guys behind him were. At least if they caught up to him he’d be brought back somewhere relatively safe, indoors and warm. But noooo, Tango had decided that sprinting directly into the forest at midnight in a botched escape attempt was his smartest course of action. He was a genius.
The trees were scraggly things, pointy and jagged, branches jutting into his path at sharp angles. Everything was cast in gloomy shadows from the thick canopy above, and the calls of strange animals could be heard in the distance. Tango shuddered, the wind stabbing through his thin tunic.
Flicking his gaze over his shoulder, he realized the one perk to this was that he was no longer being chased. He ran for a little longer before slowing to a stop in a large clearing, turning in a circle to try and get some semblance of his bearings.
Well, it was official. Tango had absolutely no clue where he was.
He did, however, notice a very nice looking tree on the edge of the clearing, significantly less scary looking, and significantly more curvy as opposed to angular. It also looked very climbable.
Tango smiled to himself, hurrying over to the tree. He took his backpack off first, and tossed it up into the branches before beginning to climb the tree himself. When he reached a sturdy branch, nice and high up from the ground, he stopped, retrieving his bag.
He got himself situated in the tree, planning to sleep here for the night. Sure, it would be cold, but he’d packed a blanket in his bag and it would only be for one night. Tango pulled the blanket out and bundled himself up like a burrito, before sticking the bag behind his head to use as a pillow. He settled back, eyes on the branches above.
It was… definitely not the most comfortable place he’d ever slept, but it would have to do. Anything was better than being back with them.
And plus, if he turned his head a little to the left, he could peer through all of those thick leaves and see a sliver of sky above. A patch of stars twinkling against navy blue. Tango stared at it for a while until his eyelids slipped shut from exhaustion.
He hummed to himself as he fell asleep, a small tune he’d remembered hearing when he was young. He didn’t remember the lyrics, but he’d remembered the melody; it was a quiet, comforting one. Tango kept humming until he drifted off. He’d figure things out when the morning came.
— ● — ● —
As it turns out, mornings hated Tango. He woke to harsh, jarring sunlight, as well as incessant chirping from songbirds.
It could’ve been rather fantasy-esque, he thought, waking up in nature to the soft chittering of forest creatures like some sort of wilderness princess. Tango, however, was not a princess, and he was also freezing cold. He groaned and grumbled to himself, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders as he shivered.
He didn’t want to wake up yet, the outside was too chilly. He imagined he was indoors again, with a mattress, many blankets and the heavenly invention of indoor heating. Seriously, whoever had invented automated indoor heating– the kind that *gasp* didn’t require a fireplace –was in Tango’s good books for all of eternity. He hummed happily, relishing in his daydream about warmth.
Past Tango scorned him for such daydreams. He didn’t want to be back there, with those horrid people! This was better than being inside, he was free!
Hmm, it seems that Past Tango had forgotten a key and important factor of Now Tango. He liked to be warm. And cozy. The outdoors were neither of these things.
Tango sighed to himself, shifting into a sitting position on his branch, still keeping his blanket wrapped around him. He was sore in all kinds of places, even places he didn’t think he could be sore in, likely from sleeping in a literal tree. He reached around with a stiff arm, rubbing at a spot where the branch had been jutting into his hip all night.
Tango Tek does not recommend sleeping in trees. He rates this a negative two out of ten experience.
He yawned, running a shaky hand through his messy bedhead, feeling from the roots to the tips to make sure it was all feeling correct. His hair was still soft and waxy– that was good, a blazeborne’s hair was supposed to be that texture. And the ends still had a flame, though it was small enough for Tango to worry just how cold it had gotten last night.
He did his best to shrug it off and ignore the nagging worry in his gut. He’d noticed his hair and tail flames decreasing in size recently, which was probably not a good thing. But they hadn’t died out completely– which would’ve been an incredibly bad sign for his health had that happened– so he'd convinced himself it would be fine.
Satisfied with his check, Tango pulled his hands out of his hair. As he did, he felt a sudden sharp sting on one elbow, and jerked his arm back away from the perpetrator. There was a flutter of golden wings, and a bird landed on the branch next to him. It was one of those dang songbirds that had been so annoying that morning.
“You bit me!” Tango exclaimed, scolding the bird. His voice was hoarse from who knows what.
Instead of flying off at his loud tone, the bird stayed, hopping around on the branch and peering at Tango curiously, its head cocked to the side as it did so.
“No remorse for your actions, huh?” he asked it, grabbing his bag and unflattening it from its time as a pillow. He started to unwrap himself from the blanket to put it away, but immediately shivered from the morning breeze and resorted to keeping the blanket on for now.
Tango held a finger out to the bird, not wanting to climb down from the tree yet. The bird studied his finger, and he studied it, realizing it was a canary. Tango put on his talking to adorable animals voice. “You’re a sweet little guy, huh?–”
The canary bit down on his finger the moment he said that, eliciting a loud “HEY!” from Tango. The bird still didn’t fly off, looking almost smug.
“Okay, I’m leaving this tree.” Tango grumbled. He swung his pack over his shoulder and began to climb down slowly, as best he could with a blanket still around his shoulders, glaring at the bird the whole time. When he reached the ground (void, it felt nice to have dirt under his feet again) he sighed back up at the tree. The canary was pretty cute, so he couldn’t stay mad at it.
“I’m gonna go now little buddy,” He called up to the bird. He could almost laugh at himself- talking to a bird? It wasn’t like it could talk back. But, he had no one else to talk to other than himself, and honestly, talking to the canary was better than talking to thin air. “I would preferably not like to be stuck in this forest much longer. I mean, I’ve got no clue where the way out is, but I might as well start walkin’ huh?”
Tango wondered if he’d regret this decision later. If, perhaps, he should’ve formulated a better plan than just wandering. But wandering felt like the easiest option right now, and he was too tired to figure something else out.
He sighed, turning on his heel and giving a wave to the bird. He looked between a couple of directions before picking a random one, plowing a pathway into the undergrowth. As he walked, some of the chill from earlier slipped away, though he still had his blanket to combat it too.
He hummed another tune as he walked, this one jaunty and peppy as opposed to his lullaby-like tune from the night before. He should do something to keep himself in high spirits right now, he’d reasoned.
Of course, he was barely five minutes into walking before he was literally dive-bombed by the canary from earlier. Tango screeched in confusion as it landed on his head and threw him off balance, nearly knocking him over.
“ For the love of god!– ” he cried, righting himself. The bird’s feet stomped around, mussing up his hair. Tango swelled with sudden panic, “No– shoo! My hair’s got fire, you’ll burn yourself!” He waved his hands at the bird, and when it didn’t move he gave it a push. It chirped loudly in irritation, but flew up and landed back on Tango’s shoulder instead.
Tango huffed out a deep sigh, swiveling his head to face the canary. It peeped excitedly, feathers ruffling when their eyes met.
“Okay, fine,” Tango drew out his words. “You can stay.”
He started walking again, and the canary didn’t move from his shoulder, bobbing up and down with his steps.
“Welcome, little buddy, to Tango’s super cool adventure, where he will probably die in the woods,” he narrated in a deadpan. “Please don’t give me salmonella.”