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Since making a home in the walls of Jesper’s cottage, Wylan had never wandered past where the blueberries grew in the forest, at the edge of Jesper’s acreage. He hadn’t a reason until this morning when the breeze had carried a sugary scent through the leaves, tickling his whiskers and making him pause to look out across the bushes, into the trees, into that unknown territory—endlessly vast for a mouse.
But that scent was so bewitching.
He let go of the branch he’d been holding onto, trying to reach one of the plump ripe berries. He dropped down into the leaves, rolled onto his feet, and started deeper into the forest, stopping every now and then to lift his nose to the air and make sure of his direction—
It was a dangerous business being a mouse, and he many times wished he could be any other creature. He thought this most intensely when shadows swooped above him and he had to dive among the tree roots, hoping against hope there were no snakes in the leaf mould around him—or huge, hairy, horrible spiders—or—
He shuddered, trying to calm his racing heart with the promising thought of his prize if he could simply make this journey. It made no sense to go back now, not as far as he’d gone. The scent was getting stronger, more intoxicating. He would taste it soon. Just imagine…
He scurried up the tree trunk, claws gripping at the rough bark. He made it several feet, cast an eye around for movement that might alert him to any predators, then studied the path ahead of him.
There was a cottage in the distance, peering out from behind a shady grove of trees. It was a small, sad looking place, with a moss-covered roof and walls of mud and stone. It blended well into the forest, but lacked the warmth and personality that had drawn him to Jesper’s cottage. Nonetheless, he felt sure it was the origin of the sweet smell, and he could think of little else now but his first bite of the prize—
Eagerly, he scampered back down near to the base of the tree, then launched himself off, falling soundlessly onto moss still soaked from the storm that had swept through about a day before. He jumped off into the dirt and leaves, shaking off some of the feeling of dampness that now clung to his fur before he rushed on, quick as he could go.
The sun, now much higher than it had been when he started out, streamed down through the branches and cast a glow on the sad little cottage. Wylan enjoyed the gentle warmth of it on his back as he started to climb up the side of the cottage. There was a window above him with the shutters thrown open, as if inviting him inside.
He knew, of course, that mice were rarely invited, and much less welcome, and he did have manners—he did—it was just, well—
He’d made it all this way and he was starving.
His spindly arms shuddered with exertion as he hauled himself up onto the wide, wooden sill and promptly collapsed in a breathless heap. He felt giddy as much as he was tired, so he lifted his head and glanced around the cottage, seeking a sign of anyone home.
Inside, there was a cauldron suspended over a steadily burning hearth fire. A bed in the corner, made up of tattered sheets, had clearly been slept in, but no one was in it now. Clay dishes were stacked on the kitchen counter, next to a wash pot empty of water. Herbs hung from the ceiling with cobwebs stuck between, and the walls were decorated with various things preserved and made into some form of art—be that twigs or bones or lifeless bits of flesh…
Wylan shivered, despite the sun still on him. He tore his gaze from the dead eyes of the deer above the mantle and very nearly thought that maybe he should just turn around now, give up on what he’d—
What he’d come for.
It was there, beneath a thin white rag, left out on the counter—its golden crust peeking out above the rim of the cast iron pie pan—
Wylan didn’t even think before he was leaping off the window sill, scurrying across the counter. He paused to sniff at the flaky crumbs that had fallen around where the pie was sitting, then stretched onto his hind legs, sunk his claws into the crust, and pulled himself up.
Nosing under the white cloth, Wylan shuffled his way to the thick, oozing slits cut in the centre of the pie. He squeaked in delight and scooped up a pawful of the warm blue sugary goop. It had a flavor distinctive of Jesper’s magic. All the things that he grew, no matter the season. He’d say it wasn’t his specialty, that he’d never have his mother’s talent—but if Wylan were bolder, he’d tell him the truth: that he had never tasted fruits so bewitching as what Jesper grew.
That thought made him pause as he scooped up another pawful from the vents of the pie. This wasn’t Jesper’s cottage, but these were definitely his berries. Come to think of it, Wylan mused, the bushes had seemed less fruitful the last week or two, hadn’t they?
Perhaps they had a thief.
He dug down deeper into the pie, peeling back the vents to reveal more of the innards. His fur was turning purplish-blue from the pie filling dripping down his arms and front, but he hardly even cared. He’d groom himself later, once he returned to Jesper’s hearthside, having eaten his fill of the thief’s work, setting the scales right—
Ghezen, had his morals been corrupted by blueberries to be thinking like that? He swallowed and licked at the side of his mouth, silently defending to himself that they weren’t just any blueberries, so…
He kept on eating, eyes half-closed with the pleasure of sweetness on his tongue. His stomach had just started to feel sated when—
The cloth was ripped away and a scratchy voice yelled, “VERMIN!”
Wylan startled, slipping onto his back and sliding down into the sticky mess of blueberry goop he’d carved out in the centre of the pie. He looked up wide-eyed into the sneering, wrinkled face of a witch with wild gray hair. She had a possum on her shoulder, its black eyes beady and its yellow teeth bared as it stared at Wylan.
This wasn’t good.
Wylan tried to right himself and get up out of the goop to make a run for the window, but the witch grabbed his tail and tossed him onto the counter. He landed awkwardly on his shoulder with a squeak of pain. No time to nurse an injury. He rolled onto his feet and tried to run again, only to be caught beneath a wooden colander.
Panicking, he began to turn in dizzying circles, seeking escape—but it was all the same. No hole bigger than another, and none near big enough to slip through, even for a mouse. He rushed forward and started to chew at one of the holes, though he knew it was futile.
He’d need more than a minute to break out of this prison.
The old woman knew it, too. She wasn’t even trying to stop him.
As he chewed, he caught glimpses of her through the holes. She was standing in the middle of the kitchen, gesturing towards cupboards that opened and closed with soundless instruction. The counters were filling with various ingredients and cooking utensils—
‘I know your scent, little morsel,’ the possum whispered into Wylan’s mind, climbing up onto the kitchen counter and sticking its nose in at him. ‘I smelled it in the bushes, different from the other mice. I wonder, will your taste be different, too?’ Its teeth flashed again—a vicious grin.
Wylan backed away to the far side of the colander, saying nothing in answer. He spoke rarely, though he could. Never to Jesper. Not yet. He regretted that now—the fact he’d never even said “thank you.”
Thank you for a home, and for food, and for gentle touches, and for warmth, and for the books read aloud, never knowing what it meant to Wylan—never knowing that… he wasn’t just a mouse, and that he did understand, and he listened, ached for Jesper when he cried, and swelled with joy when Jesper laughed or simply smiled, and—
One day, he would have told him. He loved him. He loved him.
The colander lifted suddenly, but Wylan couldn’t run. He’d been caught up in the grip of an invisible hand, and the next thing he knew, he’d been dropped unceremoniously inside an empty cauldron. He scrambled for the walls, trying to find a foothold.
The witch’s face looked in at him, smirking at his struggle. “My sweet Phagos tells me you belong to that infernal Zemeni who’s encroached on my forest and made friends of all my game. He’d sooner have me eat the moss of my roof than gut a deer that he’s named. He thinks I haven’t noticed. My arrows won’t land. My traplines are empty. I’m lucky if a worm crawls out in the rain!”
Wylan flinched, shrinking against the cauldron wall.
“But you… you left his protection, stepped into my mercy.” The old woman smiled, pulling back from the cauldron, raising both hands.. “I won’t settle for his berries, now that I have what I need to cast the curse that will end this. I’m going to remind him—these woods were all mine first. Everything in it! Mine to have and to take. Mine alone.”
Two ceramic jars levitated into view above the cauldron, their lids already removed. The jars began to tip, and Wylan squeaked out in fright, shielding his face as best he could with his thin arms. Twin streams of flour and sugar poured into the cauldron, quickly filling up the space to where Wylan was struggling just to stay above it—
More ingredients followed, coming down on his head. He couldn’t seem to avoid them. Eggs cracked, cinnamon was shaken out, warm butter poured, salt and spices thrown in—and then came the spoon.
Wylan gasped as the forming batter was folded over him like a wave, pushing him down, blind and panicked beneath the surface, unable to find his way up to catch a breath. He kicked and flailed as hard as he could, but the batter was thickening with every pass of the spoon. There was no air to breathe. There was batter in his nose. If he opened his mouth, he’d only choke before he suffocated—
‘Wylan!’ came a voice, familiar but hazy, filtering through his panic and slow acceptance that he was dying. ‘Saints, are we too late? Kaz!’
‘I’m fine—I can handle her,’ another voice appeared in Wylan’s mind, gruffer than the first, but no less familiar. ‘Get the mouseling. He’s in the pot. I’ll meet you on the boundary when I’ve finished with these two.’
The cauldron tipped suddenly onto its side, washing Wylan out onto the counter with a slew of half-mixed batter. He laid there splayed out on his belly, eyes too thick with batter to open. He was vaguely aware of a gentle paw nudging at him and a soft voice whispering into his mind, ‘Wylan, it’s Inej. I’m going to get you out of here, okay?’
Wylan squeaked pitifully as sharp teeth encased him, as kindly as they could be. He was lifted from the counter, dripping batter—
Somewhere near, within the cottage, there was a cacophonous racket of hissing and growling, infuriated squawks and clattering objects, cursing and spell words and a shriek of, “DEVIL BIRD! ARGH!”
‘Inej, I told you to go! NOW.’
Wylan’s body swung limply as Inej bounded out and away from the noise. She kept her pace quick and steady, occasionally checking in with Wylan as she wove through the underbrush. He did speak to her sometimes, but not now. It was all he could to stay conscious.
After some time—he didn’t know how long—Inej slowed her pace, then came to a stop, lowering her head and opening her jaws to let Wylan down atop the leaf mould. He lay there limply on his side, breathing heavily through his mouth, with his nostrils full of batter.
‘I’m going to try to get some of this off, before it starts to dry on you…’
Wylan squeaked, not really processing the words until Inej’s prickly tongue swept over his left cheek, dislodging some of the batter that had caked over his eye. She kept licking at his face until it was clean enough that he could open both his eyes, then she started working down, only pausing when he squeaked and flinched away from the push of her tongue against the shoulder he’d landed hard on earlier.
‘I’m sorry, did I hurt you?’ Inej asked, concerned.
Wylan looked up into the black cat’s worried eyes and simply shook his head. He saw her tilt her own head curiously, assessing him, and just as he thought she might say something else, they both heard the sound of wing flaps above them, descending toward the bushes—
‘Kaz,’ Inej breathed out, her tone etched with relief at just the sight of him. She took a step forward, sniffing at the air as he landed. ‘Wait… why do you smell like a chimney?’ She peered at him, eyes narrowing.
The crow, who’d landed with a stumble on his bad leg, stretched out his wings to show the ends of his feathers, made ragged from flame. ‘Burned a few feathers, nothing serious,’ he answered coolly; then, with a hint of a smirk in his voice, never showing on his hard-lined beak, he added, ‘We’ll have to rethink dinner. Turns out I’m a clumsy cook…’
Wylan followed his gaze up through the trees, eyes widening at the sight of dark gray smoke spreading over a swath of the sky above.
Inej had clearly seen it, too, as she sighed, ‘Tell me you didn’t…’
‘Fine, I didn’t,’ said Kaz, still with that smirk in his voice. He spread his wings again, flapping to get airborne. ‘I’ll go ahead and let Jesper know it’s time for a rain spell. Don’t take too long or you’ll get caught in it,’ he warned. ‘That is, assuming he manages more than one cloud…’
Inej flicked the tip of her tail at him, sending him off. She watched him go, then glanced down at Wylan. ‘You can ride on my back, if you feel well enough,’ she offered, laying down next to him in the leaves.
Shakily, Wylan moved to her side, favoring his right front paw, as any weight on it pained his shoulder. He gripped a clump of her fur and tried to pull himself up—an easy task, usually, despite her silky texture. This time, he slid down almost immediately, exhausted—
Inej watched him sympathetically, allowing him a few tries for his dignity before she told him, ‘It might be better if I just carried you…’
So, as before, Inej took Wylan gently between her sharp teeth and resumed on their way back to the cottage. The scent of rain began to thicken the air as clouds appeared above the trees, starting to drizzle as the cottage came into view ahead, each window aglow with light.
Inej bounded the last few meters to the door, slipping in through the wood that was spelled to look solid only to those who couldn’t pass.
Inside, the hearth fire was blazing, and Jesper was prodding at the cauldron hung above it, clearly arguing with Kaz on his shoulder. He turned when Kaz flew off to one of many perches screwed into the cottage walls, smiling as he noticed Inej. “Hey, love, what’s…”
Inej had bowed her head, releasing Wylan onto the piled rugs on the floor. ‘I believe he’s injured, but he’s alive,’ she assured, seeing Jesper’s expression twist into panic. ‘We found him in… Snežana’s cottage…’
“Snežana?!” Jesper echoed in horror, already dropping to his knees on the rug pile. His hands hovered around Wylan without actually touching him. “Saints, what happened to him? What’s all of this?” he demanded, gesturing at the batter still caked in Wylan’s fur. He didn’t wait for an answer before barreling on: “I thought I told you two to keep an eye out for him! Was that such a big favour to ask?”
Kaz scoffed, a very human noise. ‘It’s a favour enough that I’ve agreed not to eat him. If you’re so worried about your precious pet, then maybe—‘
“He’s no more a pet than you are,” Jesper interjected, frowning.
‘Then maybe,’ Kaz repeated even louder, ‘you should get him a cage with one of those stupid wheels, so the next time he feels like running, he can do it on that instead of making us chase him into another witch’s territory.’
Jesper’s frown deepened. He jabbed a finger at Kaz, replying, “Maybe it’s you I should have in a cage until your attitude—”
‘STOP IT!’ Inej yowled, tail held straight and puffed as she glared between them. ‘The two of you fighting won’t change what happened. Wylan nearly died today, but we didn’t lose him. Can we focus on that?’
Jesper sighed, glancing back down at Wylan, who met his eyes with a heavy-lidded gaze. He’d only been half-listening to the argument, too tired to feel even a prickle of insult from Kaz’s remarks. Still, he could see that Jesper was troubled; his eyes held the same clouds as rained down above the cottage, tapping melodies on the tin roof.
“I’m sorry, ‘Nej, you’re right,” said Jesper, scooping Wylan up into the warmth of one palm and holding him close to his chest. Wylan let out a soft chirp, pleased to see the smile it tugged from Jesper’s lips. Not so bright as usual—not enough to reach his eyes and fill them with silver—but enough that Jesper’s heartbeat began to steady and slow in its rhythm, relaxing Wylan more, in turn.
Jesper stood there for a minute, subtly rocking side to side, like a ship in a quiet harbour. “Thank you—both of you—for going after him,” he murmured, glancing between his two familiars. “I want you to know… I worry about all of you, and it scares me to think that I could have lost…” He trailed off, swallowing. “My family.”
Wylan nuzzled his cheek into Jesper’s palm, offering a soft squeak.
‘We’re okay, Jes,’ Inej assured him, winding between his legs on her way to hop onto the couch arm. She sat down at the edge, flexing her claws idly as she looked up at Jesper. ‘I’m not sure how Wylan ended up at Snežana’s cottage, or if he even went there willingly—’
‘I suspect he was following his stomach,’ Kaz cut in, causing Jesper’s brow to crinkle in confusion. ‘Am I wrong about that, mouseling?’
Wylan cringed internally, but pretended not to hear him.
‘I know you’re listening,’ said Kaz, with a tone that sounded like the verbal equivalent of rolling one’s eyes; then, addressing Jesper, he added, ‘I’ve been telling you to strengthen your wards for weeks now. It shouldn’t be so effortless for another witch’s familiar to come and go, and for you to not even sense it…” Kaz clicked his tongue in disapproval.
Jesper still looked confused. “Hang on, what do you mean? Has that bloody possum been in here again?” He glanced around the cottage interior as if seeking a sign of anything out of place; to any visitor here, it might seem that everything was out of place, but Wylan knew by now the difference between a… Jesper-ness and any actual mess.
‘Didn’t I say he was never getting past me again?’ Kaz snapped, at the same time as Inej murmured thoughtfully, ‘The blueberry patch…’
Jesper looked at Inej, disregarding Kaz’s defensive outburst. “Don’t tell me Snežana sent that little thief of hers to fleece our bushes. Ah, Saints, and here I thought it was some strange failure of my magic.”
‘Your magic fails you often enough to justify such suspicion…’
“Well, perhaps if my oldest familiar were more supportive of his witch,” Jesper started to say, shooting an annoyed look at Kaz.
‘Don’t you two start again,’ Inej sighed. She stood up on the couch arm, tail flicking at the tip. ‘Jesper, you should really run Wylan a bath. Snežana nearly drowned him in a cauldron of batter, and I worry with how he’s breathing, there’s some blockage in his nose. It’ll worsen as it dries…’
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Jesper said hurriedly, only to pause and, just now processing, it seemed, asked, “She tried to drown him in what?”
‘Some makings of a curse on you,’ Kaz answered, sounding bored.
“All the Saints… she would have—just to get to me?”
‘Jes…’ murmured Inej, barely a whisper.
Wylan, who’d been starting to drowse, listening to the conversation as if a dream was happening around him, suddenly felt Jesper shift to bring his hand up higher, where he could see Wylan at his level.
Jesper’s eyes flitted over Wylan from nose to tail, lip caught between his teeth. He mumbled something incoherent to himself, then tucked Wylan protectively back against his heart, cradled in a half-fist. They moved into the kitchen area, built into an open corner of the cottage; with his free hand, Jesper began to point at various cupboards and containers, summoning up a small basin, a jug of water, several vials of soap, a small horsehair brush, a wash cloth, and a small red towel.
Blinking sleepily, Wylan shifted up to rest his chin in the crook of Jesper’s index finger, looking down with muted interest as Jesper guided the water up out of the jug, filling the basin about halfway.
Inej jumped up on the counter to observe, as well, while Jesper laid his hand out flat over top of the basin, leaving it to hover there until steam began to rise. He pulled his hand away, then looked down at Wylan, offering a gentle smile. “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”
Wylan yawned, slow blinking at Jesper.
“Oh, I know, love,” Jesper murmured, gently lowering Wylan into the warm, small pool of water, and allowing him a minute to amble out from his palm. “Does that feel alright to you? Not too hot, is it?”
Wylan let out a soft chirp as he sat up on his hind legs, the water rippling around his belly. He saw Jesper smile, as he always did when Wylan made that noise. Glancing back down at the water, Wylan noticed it had started to cloud, taking on a milky blue hue from the mix of batter and blueberries dyed into his ginger fur.
“Mm,” Jesper said thoughtfully, then dipped his finger in next to Wylan. He gave it a little swish and the water was as crystal again. “That’s better,” Jesper declared, and Wylan chirped in agreement. “Now, which soap would you like today, my little mouseling? We have… coconut soleil, very vanilla, tangerine, cinnamon honey…”
Wylan chirped again.
“Cinnamon honey? That does suit you well,” said Jesper, grabbing the vial from where it levitated, and dismissing the others with a wave of his hand. He uncorked it and tipped a few drops into the bowl, chuckling as Wylan swished his tail to encourage bubbles.
It was all so perfectly typical of their afternoons together—with Inej, now laid out on the counter nearby, eyes half-closed and a soft purr rumbling deep inside her chest—Kaz, stubbornly on his perch at a distance from them all, but with a watchful eye, near unblinking—
Wylan moved instinctively to begin his grooming, only to squeak out in pain as he moved his right arm, jostling his injured shoulder.
Immediately, Inej’s eyes opened fully, and she raised her head to look at Jesper, who was hovering frantically, but looking uncertain. She stood up, then, pawing her way to the edge of Wylan’s bath—
‘I suspected your injury, but you haven’t confirmed it,’ said Inej, so that only Wylan heard her. ‘Your shoulder, yes? Do you think it’s broken?’
Wylan huddled among the bubbles, letting them rise up to his chin.
‘You’re in no danger to admit your injuries here. I can promise you that.’
‘I… yes, I know,’ Wylan whispered to her, finally. ‘It’s just, um…’
‘Habit,’ Inej finished for him, nodding in a way that would be odd for any true feline. ‘I understand,’ she added, her gaze on him gentle.
Wylan took a breath, then nodded almost imperceptibly, in turn. ‘I don’t think it’s broken,’ he told her. ‘It hurts, but it doesn’t feel numb…’ He trailed off, not wanting to explain that he knew very well what a broken bone felt like, and based on his experience, this was a sprain.
Inej regarded him silently for a moment before glancing at Jesper, who had started to fidget anxiously with a loose thread on his vest.
‘Um, Inej?’ asked Wylan shyly, calling her attention back to him.
She inclined her head curiously. ‘Yes, Wylan?’
Wylan hesitated. He wanted to—he just thought—but it was silly to ask Inej to speak for him anymore than he already did. It was silly—no, stupid. It was stupid. That he couldn’t just… talk to Jesper. That he could, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Even looking at him now, even knowing—there was no reason not to trust him, and yet—
His heart had started pounding.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He didn’t know what to do, so without even thinking, he simply sunk beneath the bubbles, disappearing underwater. He heard a muffled yelp of surprise from Jesper, and then, the next that he knew, he was scooped up into Jesper’s palm again, lifted high.
“Saints! Are you alright, Wy? Was the water too warm, or just too much? Is your head alright? Did you faint? Are you feeling dizzy?”
Wylan blinked away the droplets from his eyelashes, then wrinkled his nose up and let out a sneeze, nearly toppling forward from the violence of it. He sneezed twice more in quick succession, feeling batter clear out from his nose. He sniffled, then looked up at Jesper.
“Bless you,” Jesper said softly, his expression still etched with worry.
Inej cast a knowing look between them before turning away, trotting off across the counter to the mess of herbs that were planted in little pots around the sink and on the window sill above it, taking in the light. She used her teeth to cut a small leaf from a flowering plant, then returned to lay it next to the bowl with a soft, insistent meow.
Jesper thanked her, picking up the leaf and offering it to Wylan.
‘Chew it slowly,’ said Inej. ‘It should help with the pain and swelling…’
Wylan took the leaf in tiny fingers, sniffing it curiously. The smell was strong and tickled his nose, causing him to sneeze again. He sniffled, but agreeably took the stem between his teeth and started chewing. The taste wasn’t bad, at least. It was even… almost good.
“Wylan…?” asked Jesper suddenly, and Wylan realized he’d been staring out at nothing, a small piece of the leaf still clutched in his hand. He looked down at it dazedly, then held it out to Jesper, who let out a quiet chuckle as he accepted the offering with two fingers.
Inej appeared in Wylan’s view, apparently balancing on two legs as she rested her front paws on Jesper’s wrist to look at Wylan. ‘I may have given him too big of a leaf,’ she mused to Jesper. ‘Does he seem…’
“High?” asked Jesper, suppressing a laugh. “Maybe a bit.”
That seemed to have caught Kaz’s attention, as he manifested from across the room in a flurry of black feathers, finally settling on Jesper’s shoulder and peering down into his palm—
‘Quite the medik, our Inej,’ Kaz remarked, his amusement evident. ‘I wonder, what might you suggest for a case of burnt feathers? Ayahuasca?’
Inej lifted her chin, eyes narrowing. ‘Scissors,’ she said curtly.
Kaz only laughed, a low and raspy sound.
It was all a very pleasant lullaby, if a little fuzzy around the edges.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me yet, love,” said Jesper, lifting Wylan’s chin with the tip of one finger. He smiled down at Wylan, who was swaying slightly back and forth, eyes heavily lidded. “Let’s finish your bath so you won’t wake up all sticky and needing a shave.”
Kaz made a rude joke at that, apparently. Wylan hadn’t exactly processed the words, but whatever he had said, it caused Jesper to glare and weave a spell of red strings to wrap around Kaz’s beak.
Clearly vexed, Kaz beat his wings hard, catching Jesper in the face before he took off flying, swooping out through the illusion of the shut and locked front door. Inej watched him go with a sigh, then turned a disapproving stare on Jesper, who groaned in discontent.
“Inej, you know I love him, but you can’t say that was uncalled for,” Jesper argued as he waved a hand, reheating Wylan’s bath. “He’s lucky I’m soft on him,” he added in a mutter. “Any other witch—well, not any other, but someone like Snežana? She’d have him—”
Inej cleared her throat—loudly—and Jesper grimaced.
“Right, well, why don’t you go check on him? Tell him I’m… sorry he’s a bastard. I don’t know. You always know what to say to him.”
‘I think before I speak.’
Jesper rolled his eyes at her. “Who has time for that?” he said drily, but he winked at her as she just shook her head, turning to leave. She hopped off the counter and disappeared through the door, leaving Jesper’s attention fully back on Wylan and his bath.
Feeling groggy and just wanting to nap, Wylan clumsily struggled to climb up Jesper’s arm as he lowered him toward the bowl of water again. Jesper easily caught him and set him down in the bubbles, doing his best to soothe him with gentle murmurs and promises.
Wylan gradually relaxed into the warmth of the water. He let Jesper scrub the batter still clumped in his fur with a small horsehair brush, being mindful of his injured shoulder despite that Wylan felt no pain now. Laying the brush aside, Jesper picked up the washcloth, soaked its corners in the soapy water, and asked Wylan to close his eyes. He rubbed the cloth over Wylan’s face, then used another corner to go over his paws, and the length of his tail, until every bit of him felt as polished as a treasure to be displayed in the museum of Ahmrat Jen.
“Good as new,” said Jesper softly, transferring Wylan onto a small red towel. He picked up the edge and rubbed it gently over Wylan’s back, smiling at the quiet series of chirps the sensation of it always elicited from Wylan. Once the towel was pulled away, Wylan’s fur was a soft cloud of fluffy ginger curls. He felt the urge to shake his body out, but only succeeded in toppling over, rolling onto his back.
Jesper’s eyes widened, even as he tried to suppress a laugh. “Are you alright?” he managed, both concern and amusement genuine.
Wylan didn’t move, however silly he might look with all his legs in the air. He just blinked at Jesper and yawned, eyes fluttering shut. He was usually quite particular about how and where he slept—definitely not one to fall asleep right in the open like this, but…
Jesper scooped him up with a gentle hand, warm fingers curling loosely to form a cradle around Wylan, who let out a sleepy chirp.
He could feel Jesper walking to elsewhere in the cottage, and he listened contentedly to the sound a thump and a crackle as Jesper bent to throw a new log into the fire. Next, there was a rustling—the sound of sails spread to the wind—or something like it, and then—
Jesper laid down on a thick, warm blanket he’d spread on the floor within the reach of the fire’s glow. He settled onto his back, letting Wylan down in one of his favourite spots, in the crook of Jesper’s neck and shoulder, where he could tuck away under tight curls.
It was quiet in the cottage, with no sounds but the hearth fire and the pattering of rain, interspersed with the occasional call of wild animals in the forest. Jesper, as usual, didn’t last long in silence.
“You know, I thought… coming out here, living away from it all, I wouldn’t be a danger to anyone anymore,” said Jesper, just above a whisper. “I’ve gotten stronger, gained more control, but it’s still not enough. It’s… still dangerous to know me. You should know that.” He paused. “I’m sure you do, after today, and I just… want you to know that it’s okay if you leave, make a home somewhere better. You don’t owe me anything, but… if I could I’d ask for a goodbye, just to know that you did leave and that nothing had happened…”
Wylan, however exhausted, found himself growing restless as he listened to Jesper speak. He wriggled out from under Jesper’s curls and reached for the earring that dangled from his lobe, wrapping one paw around it and giving it a firm tug to get Jesper’s attention.
“Ow,” Jesper mumbled, rubbing at his ear. He rolled onto his belly and propped his chin on his hands. The many rings on his fingers shone in the firelight. “You alright, Wy? Do you need anything?”
Wylan shook his head, swaying as a wave of dizziness crashed over him. He steadied himself, then hobbled forward on three legs until he was close enough to lay a front paw on one of Jesper’s fingers. He had so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted Jesper to know—that he was happy, that he felt safe here, that nothing had changed today…
He looked up into Jesper’s silver eyes, reflecting the gold of the fire.
It had to be the herb in him, or the fact he was so tired, or both, because—he didn’t think. He didn’t think at all. He just said it.
‘My home is with you.’