Chapter Text
All he’s known, for as long as he can think back, is the open air.
The wind in his quills, the brush of grass against his feet, the rush in his ears; his whole world, and only his. He’s watched birds soar through the sky, chao’s and other creatures running through forests, and (when he dares to venture close enough for a drink) the occasional fish speeding through water. None of them are as fast as him, though.
As far as he knows, his speed is uniquely his. Though, maybe there is someone out there who can match him, someone as reluctant to reveal it as he is.
Distantly, in the back of his mind, with vague memories of soft purple fur and a warmth now foreign to him, a warning sits heavy among soft and hazy feelings. He can’t even grasp the words, just the feeling of a paw brushing through his quills, another cupping his check, and the knowledge that no one can see him run like that.
Sometimes at night, when he’s lying under a canopy of trees and watching as stars peek through the leaves, he’ll try to remember something else. Anything else. A place, a face, a name. He draws a blank each time.
He doesn’t need to know any of that to keep living how he does, a life he quite enjoys- really- but still he-
Sometimes he wonders if knowing something about himself, about his past, might offer some solace in his relative isolation.
He might not mind the solitude, take pleasure in the peace and calm it brings, but..
Well…
He can’t help but think it’d be nice.
Food that isn’t simply foraged is hard to come by. Fishing, with his meager strength and aversion to water, is hit or miss.
When he wanders into a town, he does whatever work he can get. Which isn’t much.
Metalworkers and bakers and deliverymen alike look at his small stature, glance over at the children his age playing hopscotch or some other game, and scoff at him.
In the freedom of his head, he’d scowl and snap about how he could run circles around any of their workers.
To their face, he gives a rueful grin and says, “awh, c’mon, I’m the cheapest labour you’re ever gonna get!”
(he’d learned that trick when he had just, as far as he could remember, started living like this. After begging for something to eat, an old swallow had promptly thrown a pile of laundry his way and told him to wash it. When questioned, she shrugged. “Cheapest labour I’ll ever get I suppose.”)
Sometimes, they’d roll their eyes and tell him to move along, before brushing past him and onto more important things.
Other times, they’d sigh, and rub and hand over their face like they needed a good nap after talking to him, and give him some busywork. Something to keep him out of the way rather than actually help, that paid crumbs.
Other times still, however, the line would land.
They’d chuckle or laugh, maybe even throw back their heads with glee, and the occasional clap on the back. They’d praise his “gusto”, his “work ethic”, and his “go-getter attitude”; or maybe say something along the lines of “if you don’t work, you don’t eat”, before giving him something to do with the promise of decent pay by the end of it.
It was enough to buy him a hot meal, and some bread for the road and sometimes he’d even have a few coins leftover. He’d tuck that away in his satchel, along with whatever he already had and save it for when he needed a new shirt, or a new pair of boots, or when he can’t even get enough work to pay for a single meal.
Maybe it’s because it’s all he’s known, the memories of Before tucked away somewhere he doesn’t know if he’ll ever reach but he can’t imagine wanting anything else.
There are brief moments, where his eye will catch on a group of friends huddled around something, or a parent fussing over their child who fell and scraped their knee, and he’ll wonder if anyone ever did that for him.
But any feelings of want begin and end with the wind on his face, and the sight of meadows and forests stretching far into the horizon, waiting for him.
Talking is… an obstacle to say the least.
There’s not many other people who travel like he does, and he tends to avoid those who do. Bandits and worse make for a constant if distant threat, and the Critters are always wary of him.
So most of his time is spent in silence, just the wind and the distant song of critters far away. Which is fine by him. He likes the peace it brings, and whatever thoughts he has he can just keep to himself.
However, going from not saying a word for anywhere from a few days to a few weeks and then suddenly arriving in a town where he needs to talk to find work, and everyone’s asking him questions, and kids his age are dragging him along to join their elaborate games of playacting, make his world shift on its axis every time.
He can’t make much conversation outside of actually getting a job, so avoiding people is for the best.
If he’s working on a construction site, or out in a field, or any job that involves a big group of people, he’ll hang by the oldest looking people, the ones with wrinkles and grey fur and permanently furrowed eyebrows. They dislike talk as much as he does, for the most part.
“Had enough chatter for one life, I’ll tell ya,” one hare grumbled to him, when a younger fox passing by commented on how quiet their work station was.
Other times he’s not so lucky, like when he’s working as an assistant to the local cobbler or book binder, and so has to follow precise instructions and keep up an air of friendly small talk.
By the end of those jobs, he’s happy enough to grab his money and high tail it out of town, another stretch of uninterrupted solitude waiting for him.
Despite how much he tries, he’s yet to fully outrun winter.
When the leaves start turning brown and every morning has a biting wind, he starts heading south again, trying to find a route he hasn’t taken yet. If he gets far enough, he can avoid the snow and harsh icy winds, only having to contend with the frozen earth and a cold strong enough to render every breath a visible steam, but not to bring snow.
Snow itself is pretty, the few times he’s seen it. soft and clean, like linen at a really fancy inn, blanketing the land as far as the eye could see. It makes a satisfying crunch under his boots, and making snowmen with the kids in whatever village or town he ends up in is fun.
It’s just that snow, and the cold that comes with it, doesn’t mix well with how he lives.
Snow is… not exactly slippery but his boots can’t grip the ground in the same way, meaning he can’t run anywhere as fast as he wants to. Not to mention that the only parts of the ground that aren’t covered in a thick layer of snow are covered in something worse: ice. Even going as slow as he can he always ends up falling flat on his face when presented with a thick sheet of ice to walk over.
Plus, even regular people seem to take it slower in the snow. Between frozen over farmland and everyone staying cooped up in their homes as much as possible, work is harder to come by than usual, which means less money for hot meals when he needs it the most.
The nights are colder too. He can’t exactly curl up under the bare trees in a pile of snow unless he doesn’t want to wake up the next morning, which altogether means he’s basically a sitting duck until the snow and ice starts to thaw again.
It’s easier to take the colder months in places where the sun still shines enough that the snow and ice have to stay away. Where even with the added cold in the wind he can still run almost as fast as he wants and he can still get enough work to make it through the winter without a nasty cold.
After a few years of this (or at least he thinks, time is hard to keep track of beyond looking at the leaves on the trees), it’s become something of a routine, making him chafe a little at how easily his life has fallen into some sort of order.
Usually, when the frost starts melting, he makes his way right up north again, to try and get as far as he can before he has to turn tail again. But he’s already seen so much of the north that even the thought of running straight again makes him feel trapped.
So when he leaves the last village he just spent a week in, toiling over leather and learning from a gruff hare how to properly tan it, he looks at his options.
He knows of the three routes, one will take him south, down to the seaside villages and port towns he avoids at all costs, another will take him north through little settlements he’s already seen a dozen of times, and the last will take him west.
West-
He’ll be the first to admit that he’s not the greatest at…. reading. But when he gets his hands on a map he can read enough to tell what’s out west. The east is all water, stretching out to the end of the map as if taunting him; but the west has a border of mountains, cutting through the land and dividing his home from the rest of the world. Said mountains towered over everything else on the horizon, almost touching the very clouds.
He always knew it’d be hard to push through them to the other side, but there’s really no better time than right after the winter passes, giving him all of spring, summer and autumn to make it over before the snow could stop him in his tracks.
He’s gotten faster too, these last few years. Taller and stronger, enough so that less and less people laugh right in his face when he offers his services. Even if he could have never gotten over the mountains before, he’s sure he can do it now. Just the thought of new places, new food, new horizons, was enough to make his quills stand on edge in anticipation.
It’s not like anything was really keeping him here anyway. He’d seen so many identical villages and towns that even new places didn’t feel new anymore, and the few cities he ventured into made him feel boxed in and cramped.
He needed a change, something new on the horizon every morning, and he knew just where to find it.
He’s maybe a few weeks out from the foot of the mountain range when he comes upon another village.
He can separate almost every village he’s come across into two groups, mostly based on how they act when they see him.
Some villages, in the first group, don’t even bat an eye. They have so many people coming and going nowadays that some new stranger isn’t anything exciting. There’s new buildings made from brick as opposed to wooden slates and thatched roofs, and even more being built. Trees from the surrounding forest are being hacked down so they have more room to build; houses, inns, shops- you name it. Whoever’s in charge always looks far too chuffed, as if they built everything in sight. It’s on the verge of becoming a real town, instead of some backwater village no one but the neighbouring villages knows about. They’re easier to find work in too. There’s always someone looking for a bricklayer or an extra pair of hands to give an axe to, and it’s become easier and easier as the years go on and he can safely say he’s actually decent at the jobs he’s given.
Other villages see him and stare, everyone’s eyes round like saucers.
They’re not used to strangers, especially ones without any real business, swinging by. Sometimes they’ll be excited because of that and other times they’ll want him gone as fast as possible. The one thing they always, always, have in common though, is that they’re on their last legs. Wooden buildings slowly rotting from their foundations, empty houses on the outskirts, and no work beyond a day or two of farm labour.
This village seems to belong to the second group.
He shrugs to himself. Better to get some work than no work, he settles on. He’ll make his way to the community hub and see what he can get.
Just as he’s about to turn onto the most well-worn dirt path, his ear twitches.
Is that… yelling?
No….
Screaming.
He turns towards the screaming, both ears flicking now as they try to pinpoint the noise. When he does, he slips behind some bushes and trees, watching the scene play out in front of him.
Two foxes, dark brown and white fur, seem to be doing most of the yelling. They’re kicking something on the ground, and it doesn’t take him long to parse what they’re yelling.
“Two-tailed freak!”
“Crazy weirdo!”
It’s only then that his brain puts together what they’re kicking. on the ground, curled up to protect their head, is a tiny orange fox.
He snarls.
Before the next kick can land, he’s out in front of the two brown foxes. Using his speed in front of other people is a bad idea, he knows, but he has to make an exception here.
“Mind telling me what you two losers are up to?” He asks, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, mouth fixed in a scowl.
Dumb and Dumber back up then, and the smaller one looks around, obviously wondering where he came from. The taller one just scowls right back.
“What’s it to you, blue?” Dumber snarls. He squares his shoulders, glaring right up at him.
Looks like Dumber’s picking a fight. Really living up to that nickname.
He puffs out his own chest then, emphasizing how much taller he is than the other two.
“I just think if you’re gonna pick a fight, do it with someone who can actually fight back,” he growls, stepping towards them.
Dumb and Dumber take a stumbling step back, with Dumb tugging on Dumber’s arm.
Dumber gives him a onceover, left eye twitching in fear. The silence stretches as he looms over them as best he can. He knows he’s still pretty short himself.
Dumber tsk’s.
“Whatever,” he snaps. “I just better not see you or that orange nerd around, otherwise our big brother’ll deal with both you freaks.”
He turns tail then, both of them scampering back to the village.
Once they’re only dots in the distance, he sighs, shoulders slumping and rolls his eyes.
“If you’re gonna be a bully, at least be original about it,” he mumbles.
He hears shuffling behind him then, and turns to look at what started this all.
Big, glossy, sky blue eyes look up at him, glove-clad hands clasped under their chin, and two, identical, orange tails swish in sync.
Oh.
He can’t help but stare a little. Not only are there, well, two tails, they’re also huge in comparison to the kid. One of the tails alone is probably the height of them- but wow is the kid tiny. They just barely reach his hip, if even.
“Uhm…” the kid starts, trailing off as they begin to squirm under his gaze.
Oh- he should talk. Talking is good.
“Uh- you alright, twin-tails?” He asks, the moniker slipping out before he can think better of it. Thankfully, the kit doesn’t seem to mind.
Twin-tails shrugs. “I’ve had worse,” they mumble, dusting off some of the dirt clinging to their shirt.
He finds himself tutting, and roots around in his bag for the handkerchief he knows he keeps on him. When he finds it, it’s woefully wrinkled, but still clean.
“Here,” he says, holding the handkerchief out, “for the dirt on your face.”
Impossibly so, the kid’s eyes widen even more.
“Oh! Thank you,” they say, taking the handkerchief from his hand, and wiping blindly at the mud stuck to their face, missing most of it.
He cringes, realizing that this is the most awkward way to go about things. What’s he supposed to do as the kid spends eons guessing at where the dirt on his face is? Just stand and stare? Chaos no.
“Hold on,” he says, kneeling down on one knee and easing the handkerchief back out of their paw (he already knows this whole thing is gonna be one of those memories that stop him from sleeping, making him scream into his makeshift pillow and wonder how he could’ve been so dumb in the moment). “It’d probably be easier if I got it.”
He rubs the handkerchief against the kid’s fur, wiping away the wet mud. With the other hand, he holds the kid’s shoulder steady. Even for someone this small, it’s a little too bony for his liking.
The kid just stares, mouth open a little bit in… shock? Maybe he’s reading that wrong. Either way, the silence is actively agitating him, for once. He has to think of something to say.
His eyes catch on the beat-up brown bag thrown to the wayside. It’s about the size of the kid before him, maybe just a little smaller.
“That bag yours?” He asks, motioning towards it with a jerk of his head.
The kid nods. their hands grasp at the end of their shirt, fabric bunching in their palms.
“What’s in it?” He asks, trying to avoid the kid’s whiskers.
“Uhm… my tools… and my latest prototype,” they say, eyes flicking between the bag and the ground. Their ears curve back towards their skull.
He keeps his voice light, only mildly interested. Truth be told, he’s already a little lost. “A… prototype? For what?”
Their eyes look back up to him, widening a little in surprise, but their ears are still pressed a little too close to their head.
“You really wanna know?”
He nods.
“You’re not just… makin’ fun of me or trying to get me to show you so you can steal it? Or break it?”
He shakes his head.
“Is that… something people do a lot?” He asks, mind worrying over their reaction.
They nod. “Pretty regularly actually.”
He hums, not quite sure how to respond to that. He’s gotten their face as clean as he can without soap or water, so he leans back on his heels.
“Well, I can promise I won’t do any of those things. I, uh, might not get what’s going on though, or what you’re trying to do. Science-y stuff isn’t exactly easy for me to understand.” He rubs the back of his neck, but the kid beams at him. Like, rays of sun beaming down from the sky, beams.
“That’s okay! I can explain anything you don’t get- it’s one of my simpler inventions anyway. Super practical too, you’ll see!” The kid exclaims, scuttling over to their bag and pulling out a… funnel?
He jogs over to where the kid is, and peers at the invention.
“This is the second prototype for my water purifier!” The kid begins, tails wagging hard enough to generate a soft breeze.
He leans in and takes a closer look.
At the top, a metal (steel, maybe, he’s not quite sure) funnel leads into a metal rectangular box, soldered together with copper. attached to the bottom of the filter, some piping made from the same metal as the funnel twists around and ends in an open spout. The whole thing was small enough to carry around.
“So how exactly does it work, Twin-tails?” He asks.
The kid huffs at the nickname, cheeks puffing into a pout. Twin-tails it is, then.
“Well, it funnels the water through here, and in the main machinery part, any dirt and grit is separated from the water, and then the clean water filters through the pipes and into a glass. The waste collects in the box- look here’s the flap you can open to empty it out,” Twin-tails explains, turning the machine over so he could see the removable square panel in the back.
“This is mostly to make sure I can get the machinery working right. It’s too small to purify an actual substantial amount of water within a realistic timeframe- but if this works well then I can work on upscaling the machinery and then we wouldn’t have to rely on well water!
But of course, the filtered water still needs to be heated in some way too… and maybe filtered again after that to make sure it’s safe to use? I’m not too sure to be honest. I’m really lacking the proper means to test the safety of the end product- B-but in theory this should- eventually- lead to easily accessible, clean water in a far shorter timeframe than now.”
He hums in consideration. “I don’t know how good my opinion is, but I think it’s pretty amazing, Twin-tails,” he says, grinning at the little genius before him.
Twin-tails glows at the praise. “You think? Most people say it’s a waste of time, since the capital already has a pretty expansive water filtration system. But the only people who know how those work are the top Royal Engineers and Prince Ivo- so I have to work from the ground up to get anywhere near their level,” they gush, wide eyes starry.
“Really? If you ask me, it seems like you’re in a league of your own, kid!” He says, ruffling the tuft of fur on their head. “Though I have to ask, what were you doing lugging all that around with you?”
“Ah,” Twin-tails says, pulling back a bit.
“I needed some dirty water to test this prototype, but, well- ever since my uncle… left I can’t really leave my lab without the chance that someone might… wreck the place,” they cringe, fiddling with their fingers.
He blinks, acid bubbling in his stomach like a warning. He bites at the inside of his check for a moment.
He’s never had a ‘home’, so to speak. Never really felt much of a pull for one, not when the pull of the horizon was so much stronger. While the unease that, at any given moment, everything you find safety in could be robbed from you is foreign to him, he can imagine that it’d be hard to live with.
“And… How long has that been going on for?”
Twin-tails shrugs, looking down at their boots.
“My uncle- it happened right at the end of winter. It was colder than usual, and so the w-well wasn’t working as usual, and the harvest wasn’t as good as usual, and he got sick, right before the frost started to melt,” they whisper, and when he angles his head to get at better look at their expression, tears are threatening to spill over.
“At least the ground thawed pretty quickly, we didn’t have to wait long to bury him,” Twin-tails sniffles.
He hums again, considering. As far as he can tell, they’re reaching mid-spring, the blossoms in full bloom and painting the woods in a soft pink. If it's been that long since the kid’s uncle died then he has to wonder…
“What’s keeping you, then?”
Twin-tails looks up, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
“Whatcha mean?”
“I mean-” he starts, shifting back and turning his head to gaze out towards the village. Right now, Dumb and Dumber are probably waiting by the kid’s house, or maybe they’re goading that big brother Dumber mentioned into doing the deed for them. Either way, Twin-tails doesn’t stand much of a chance, and it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone left who cares.
He turns back to look at Twin-tails, who’s confusion has morphed into wariness while he was lost in thought.
“I mean, no one really gives you or your inventions the time of day, right?”
A nod.
“And now that your uncle’s gone, there’s no one else at home?”
A nod.
“And those dipshits, and I’m guessin’ plenty of others, gang up on you the whole time?”
Another nod.
“So why stay?” He asks, bending down again to get a better view of Twin-tails’ face, hands resting on his knees. “Why not get out of here?”
Twin-tails blinks at him, a blank expression that somehow expresses so much. Mostly that the kid thinks he’s an idiot.
“Where would I go? Is the real question here. Besides, I’ve never even left the village, I wouldn’t last longer than a week!” Twin-tails exclaims. “I’m only three, you know!”
He’s pretty sure that’s freakishly young for the kid to be able to talk like this, but they can also weld metal together and have a better grasp at mechanics than he probably ever will. So instead of being surprised, or agreeing, he just shrugs.
“Look, I get that you’re basically a toddler-” Twin-tails scowls- “and you’re pretty small. But the way I see it? This village is just as bad as anything out there,” he explains. Sure, bandits and thieves and… worse were always a threat, one balanced against acres and acres of dense forestry. Out here, you’d be lucky to spot a chao, let alone someone who might want to hurt you.
And well-
He looks at the kid. The kid with the too-big eyes that remind him of the sky on a perfectly clear summer's day, with two big fluffy tails that caused them Hell for no good reason, and a brain that’s wasted on a backwater village that probably won’t last another generation.
His life probably wouldn’t change that much, right? He still needed to make enough money to tide him over until he got to the other side of the mountain range and then some anyway.
“But if you’re that worried about travelling alone, I guess I could show you the ropes.”
Sky blue eyes as big as saucers stare up at him.
“Wait, you mean it!? Like, you actually want me to come with you?”
He grins. “Sure why not? Gotta find work somewhere soon anyway, and this place doesn’t seem to have anything to offer me.” He glances back at the village, before returning his gaze to the kid.
He holds out his hand.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be with you for, but I can probably find you a better place to live than this dump,” he says, all easy smiles and nonchalant tone.
Twin-tails grins and grabs his outstretched hand with both of their own.
“I’ll come, for however long you want me for,” they agree, before pulling back and clearing their throat.
“I’m Miles, by the way. Miles Prower.”
“Miles,” he says, smiling around the name. “Happy to have you with me.”
Miles grins, his ears perking up, and twin-tails wagging out of sync.
A tool bag stuffed with an extra change of clothes, a notebook, a map, and little plush chao is all Miles brings with him. Smart choice to pack light. He doesn’t even tease Miles about the chao toy.
They leave everything else in the overturned house. Miles doesn’t even look back.
He does, however, let his gaze flicker towards one of the further fields on the village outskirts. Scattered with rounded stones and the occasional statue.
The graveyard.
Miles then turns back around to the house, closing the back window they snuck in through to avoid a fight, and promptly turns towards the nearest route out of the village.
For the first time ever, someone’s gonna be by his side.
What’s just over the horizon has never seemed so exciting before.
Miles looks over the map, tracing the route they’ve taken over the last few days.
“If we keep going at the pace we are now, the next town should only be another week away! Nine days, at most.”
He’s never really had a map to guide him before, or anyone to keep track of the distance between towns- but judging from how far they’ve made in the past few days, usually he would’ve made it to the next town by now, or be pretty damn close.
He shrugs. Just comes with not being able to run as fast as he usually can.
“Well I guess we better get going then, Twin-tails,” he says, moving to clean up what little waste there was from their lunch break.
That’s the other thing: way more breaks than he’s used to it. Though it’s not as bad as he thought it’d be. Miles fills the silence with excited chatter and hangs on every word when he tells the fox stories from his past travels.
Miles grumbles at the nickname, tails flicking in annoyance.
“Aw, c’mon. Hate the name that much?” He asks, smirking over at Miles. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to call him something his bullies used to pick on him for.
“I mean- it’s different when it comes from you. You don’t think I’m a freak for them.”
“You kidding me? If anything, they just add to your cuteness,” he says, bending down to pinch one of Miles’ checks. Miles, in turn, scowls, and pushes his hand away. He catches the small small on Mile’s face either way.
“Now anyway, think you can use that map of yours to point us the right way? The forest’s so dense here I can’t tell which way is which.”
Miles hums in consideration.
“I’m not sure, really. Maybe if I-” he stops, glancing back at his tails.
Miles’ gaze shifts to him. The kit huffs out a sigh and shakes head but doesn’t say anything else.
”Well nothing for it then Instinct it is!” He shifts towards a fork in the road, squaring his shoulders as Miles squawks out protests behind him.
“Instinct!?”
He shrugs in reply. “Yeah, instinct. It’s done me well enough up until now.”
”I don’t know…” Miles begins, brows burrowed in concern. “I mean, without a clear path how will we-“
A yell in the distance cuts Miles off. Both of them tense, breath stuttering in their chests.
More screams and cries follow. Along with the sickening siren call of steel piercing flesh.
Chaos above. Of course.
The moment he decides to let a toddler tag along is when a band of bandits decide to pounce on him.
He looks away from where the commotion and shifts into a running stance, ready to take off before his mind catches up with his legs and he freezes- turning to look at Miles, who is-
Staring at him with wide, fear-filled eyes.
The kit’s shaking all over like a leaf, breath chopping and wet sounding.
This is not how he wanted their joint travels to start out. He doesn’t even know if he can properly trust Miles yet, he can’t tell how Miles might react if the kit saw what he could do.
But he’s the one who suggested Miles come with him, he’s the reason Miles is in this mess in the first place, he’s the one in charge, when it comes down to it.
He keeps his expression carefully blank as he brain shifts through the onslaught of disjointed thoughts.
Jeers and cackling carry through the air. From the amount of voices he can pick out it’s a large group, and his ears flick at the sound of their thunderous footsteps heading their way.
The footsteps sound quick enough that he knows there’s limited time to react.
Miles is completely frozen in fear, looking like he might buckle over at any moment.
And sky blue eyes stay fixed on him all the while.
If he was alone, he’d already be gone.
So what’s stopping him now?
Sure, Miles is sweet and cute, but does that mean he can just-
Sky blue eyes seem to pierce through his heart, sharper than any bandit’s sword.
In an instant, on instinct, he’s scooping Miles into his arms and squeezing tight. Leaning in to whisper a quick warning; “Hold on tight- and don’t freak out, please?”
And he’s off.
The wind whips past his ears and Miles at once burrows further into his chest but shifts around to watch the world zip past by them.
”Oh… oh wow,” Miles breathes out.
If the situation wasn’t so strained he might point out he’s not going nearly as fast as he could on account of all the winding, overgrown roots underfoot.
He keeps running as the sound of the bandits disappears, and keeps running long after the world around them has fallen completely silent.
He only stops when he comes to the edge of the forest, stuttering to a stop right before the clearing.
He heaves out a sigh, gently depositing Miles onto the soft grass.
He surveys the clearing, catching his breath. The river ahead looks wide and deep, currents fast and choppy. Hopefully there’s a bridge close by.
He resolutely does not look at Miles, despite feeling that piercing gaze on him.
“Well,” he begins, clearing his throat. We probably shook those losers with that.”
He chuckles, breath stutters when he feels a small paw take one of his. It’s only then that he meets Miles’ eyes.
He stops breathing entirely. If only for a second.
Miles’ eyes-
He must be reading the emotions in the wrong, because there’s no way Miles is looking at him with such-
With so much… actually with any…
…Admiration?
”That was amazing!” Miles breathes, paw still gripping his tightly.
He chuckles, scratching awkwardly at his snout as he clears his throat.
“That was amazing!” Miles repeats, louder this time. He stands on his toes, swaying back and forth in excitement, still holding onto his paw. “You’re amazing! How did you do that? How long can you keep running like that? Why haven’t you done it before now? Can we go again? How about-“
He laughs, cutting off Miles’ rambling. He squats down to match Miles’ height, looking him right in those blue eyes.
He worries his lip, wondering where to even begin. It’s the first time he’s ever acknowledged it out loud, after all.
He sighs. “This is serious stuff. You get that, right?”
Miles nods, eyes taking on a severe edge.
”I… I guess I’ve just always been able to run like that. I’ve never really questioned it. I just knew that no one, and I mean absolutely no one else, could know about it.”
”Until me,” Miles says, voice soft and almost reverent.
“Until you,” he agrees, chuckling. “Guess I didn’t really think that part through when I invited you to come along with me.”
“Well you don’t have to worry! I promise, I won’t tell another soul, not ever!” Miles exclaims, now bringing his other paw up to meet the one still holding on his paw.
He smiles. “Don’t worry bud, didn’t doubt you for a moment.”
The grin Miles gives him in return is brighter than the sunniest summer day he’s ever seen.
“Well, as ‘amazing’ as me and my speed are, the currents in this river are a bit too strong for me to run across. There’s gotta be a bridge along here somewhere. Let’s go,” he says, standing up and starting to walk along the river’s bank.
They fall into companionable silence as they walk, paws still linked. He sees Miles shoot him furtive glances, before looking back to the river each time.
He holds in a laugh. Kid’s brain must be running on overload with the amount of questions he probably has.
By the time they spot a bridge in the distance, they’ve been walking for longer than either anticipated, with Miles’ feet dragging with each step.
They both sigh in relief.
Relief that is very, very short lived once they actually come to the bridge. Miles groans as they see that the middle of the bridge is rotted and one wrong step away from caving in.
Out of curiousity, he picks up a large stone from the river bank and throws it right into the rotting planks. The bridge crumbles the second the stone makes contact.
He groans. He’d much rather get across this river and back under the cover of trees before settling down for the night. He wants as much space between them and the bandits as possible, even if they’ve shaken them off.
But the sun’s already started to set, and after the day Miles’ had, he’s almost out of energy.
The kit in question clears his throat, eyeing him with trepidation. A little frown worries Miles’ features, and he keeps looking back to the river, mumbling to himself before looking up again to meet green eyes, only to look back to the ground and repeat the whole process again.
All at once he stops, blue eyes locking onto green as he gives a short and stiff nod. He shrugs his bag off his shoulder.
Green eyes furrow as he tilts his head to the side.
Miles heaves a sigh, far too big for his little body.
“Alright, promise me you won’t freak out? And that you’ll trust me?”
He nods slowly, not entirely sure where this is going.
Miles nods back. He takes a deep breath while craning his head to look back at his tails. He flicks them once, twice, thrice, and then-
His tails twist at their base, moving faster and faster until they blur together and lift him off the ground.
Gaia above and Doom below.
Miles floats (hovers- flies?) in place, far enough off the ground that for once he has to look up to meet the kit’s eyes. Miles reaches a hand down and out towards him.
“Uh- My tails are a lot stronger than the rest of me, so I should be able to get us across. Hopefully,” Miles explains.
Too dumbfounded to say anything or do anything else, he takes Miles’ offer hands.
Miles nods, more so to himself, and starts flying higher up.
He bunches his legs up, making himself as small a ball as possible as they cross over the river.
Chaos above, he’s flying!
Miles eases him back onto the ground, his legs shaking as he tries to get his bearings again.
As he tries to get his heart rate under control, Miles zooms back over to the other side, picks up his things, and flies back over again.
Miles eases himself back onto the forest floor, tails coming to a halt as the fall into their usual position, trailing behind him.
Miles looks up at him, guilt painting his expression.
He can only stare as his brain entirely resets itself.
“I- uhm. Well you see, uhm-“ Miles begins, cutting himself off with a yelp as he grabs Miles by the shoulders.
“You can fly?” he exclaims, trying not to shake Miles out of sheer shock.
“I- yes?”
“Like a bird? You can fly through the air like a bird?”
“I mean, birds are far more proficient fliers than I am but… technically?” Miles tears his gaze away from green eyes, instead choosing to stare down at his boots.
The hedgehog laughs, grinning widely. “Guess this gives a whole new meaning to ‘Twin-tails’ huh? Maybe I could come up with some more, ‘Twin-tails is a bit of a mouthful after all. Birdie? Wings? Nah too obvious. ‘Course I could just shorten it to ‘Tails’, but I feel like there’s some untapped potential I’m not seeing here-“
“…Aren’t you mad?” Miles asks eventually, cutting off his rambling and pulling himself out of his grip.
“Mad? What do I have to be mad about?” The hedgehog asks, trailing behind Miles.
“I don’t know- the fact that I didn’t tell you about this? That I kept to myself even though something like this could cause you even more problems than I already do just by traveling with you?” Miles snaps, shoulders tense.
He should probably approach this with more tact but honestly? All he can do is laugh. Full-bellied and loud.
“Kid, it’s not like I wasn’t keeping something just like this from you too. I guess we could both stand to trust each other a little more, hm?”
Miles looks back towards him, hunching in on himself while he holds his own arms. “I guess… and even if they’re not exactly the same it’s kinda nice. Not being alone with this, y’know.”
“Right. Now we’re… friends.”
Yes. Friends. That’s it. Sonic had a friend now.
“I’m your friend?” Miles asks, grip on his arms loosening.
Sonic shrugs. “Best one I’ve ever had.”
Miles smiles, small and private, with a pleased blush across his cheeks.
Guess they’re both new to this whole ‘friend’ thing.
“I don’t mind that one y’know.”
He turns away from the stars to look at Miles, raising an eyebrow. They found a place with plenty of shelter to spend the night, Miles taking the bedroll, and him lying in the plush ivy. He thought Miles had conked it the moment his head hit said bedroll, but apparently not.
“And what one is that?” He mumbles right back.
“Tails. ‘S a nice ring to it,” Miles mumbles. He’s already curling back up, eyes fluttering shut again. “Like it better than ‘Miles’, sounds cooler. Like I’m cool.”
He hums in reply, reaching out to scratch behind one of Miles’ ears. Miles lets out a breathless sigh at the contact.
“Alright then, Tails it is,” He murmurs.
A broken off hum is all he gets as ways of reply before Tails’ breath evens out, sleep finally finding him.
Tails’ flying comes in handy in the most mundane ways, he finds.
Like right now, where Tails can effortlessly lift himself into the air to reach the highest branches of a cherry tree and pick as much of the fruit as he can.
He lands with a stumble and holds out his bounty with pride. There’s mud on his face and on his clothes but his tails seem to have gotten the worst of it- stray twigs and leaves nestled into them and fur messy and unkept.
He can’t help but smile at the picture before him.
“Nice job kid!” He praises, ruffling the fur between Tails’ ears. Tails giggles as he rubs the mud off Tails’ face.
Now, what to do about those tails…
He knows he can’t talk much, since his grooming usually starts and stops with a paw brushing through his quills and a rough rub of a wet cloth to his fur, but he feels like he should do something about the woodlands growing in the kit’s overgrown tails.
“Here, let me take those off your paws”, he says, taking the cherries from Tails and laying them down by their bags. “You uh, got some stuff stuck in your tails there,” he continues, voice stilted.
Sure, he could just reach around and start plucking twigs out for Tails but that might be pushing it. He doesn’t know what the kit would be comfortable with.
“Oh!” Tails twists around to get a better look at his tails and frowns at the state of them.
“I think I brought my brush with me… hold on just a moment,” Tails mumbles, rifling through his bag and lets out a happy hum when he finds the aforementioned brush.
He hums back as he sorts through the cherries, content to sit in silence as they both get on with their tasks.
However, he can’t help looking up to Tails every few seconds, it feels. His eyes naturally drift back to the kit who looks like he’s in a losing match against his own limbs. Tails twists and turns as much as he can, but his tails seem to slip out of grip each time, leaving him unable to get to the worst of the tangles.
He frowns to himself as he watches on. If those tangles get any worse they could turn into full-on matts.
Maybe he could…
He sighs to himself and worries his lip. Would it be pushing it to just… do it for him? They’ve only known each other for a few days after all and from what he can gather grooming is something a bit too… intimate for what they are to each other. Something only practiced with family, especially at the kit’s age.
But it’s not like Tails has any family anymore. To put it bluntly- and crassly.
Not to mention watching Tails miss the same very obvious knot in the fur again and again and again is slowly driving him insane.
“Hey, Twin-Tails, you doing okay over there?” His voice cracks in a way he’s unfamiliar with. Maybe because of all the extra talking he’s been doing now that he’s traveling with someone else.
Tails’ shoulders tense and he scrubs at his eyes.
Guess not.
He makes his way over to Tails and crouches beside him, letting him see the tears (frustration, grief, loneliness- he can’t say), build up in Tails’ eyes.
They sit in silence for a moment, close enough to feel the body heat emanating from each other but far enough apart that they don’t touch.
Tails squeezes his eyes closed and clears his throat. “I’ve never done this all on my own,” he confesses, eyes opening again only to focus on the moss covering a nearby rock. “I just… put it off after my uncle- left.”
Well that certainly explains why the knotting’s gotten so bad.
Gently, he takes Tails’ paw in his own and pries the brush out of his grip. Tails turns his head and suddenly all he can see is the endless sky contained in those oversized eyes.
“Well then how about this, I’ll deal with those tails of yours until you’re big enough to manage them yourself, or we find you a nice place with someone else who can do it for you. Whichever comes first.”
“Really? It won’t be a bother to you?” Tails asks, voice quiet and as somber as he’s ever heard it.
“Really! I mean, I kinda signed up for this kind of thing when I told you to tag along with me. Don’t worry that big brain of yours about it, it’s not a big deal,” he replies, injecting as much cheer and nonchalance into his voice as possible.
“Now, let’s start with these twigs. I swear, it’s like the birds around here have been trying to slowly build a nest in here,” he rambles on, gently picking out twigs and leaves and stray shreds of tree bark.
Once all the major debris is gone, he resettles himself on the rock he’s perched on and rolls his shoulders. He takes one tail in paw, only to find himself freezing up as he brings the brush to its white tip.
“...Just, let me know if I hurt you, or if you need a break. Or if you just want one. Or if you want me to stop altogether, okay?”
Tails hums in reply. They’ve been sitting in silence since they’ve started this, and the kit doesn’t seem keen on ending it.
He takes a deep breath as quietly as he can, and starts brushing.
He starts with the white (well, white in theory, since they’re covered in a film of dust and dirt at the moment, turning them an concerning beige colour) ends, the brush sliding through with surprising ease, dust and muck falling away with each swipe.
He can’t quite feel it through his gloves but Tails’ fur looks so soft, the way he glides between the bristles of the brush. He’s young enough that his fur probably still has that downy quality to it, like his own fur before his adult fur started growing in.
He’d like to run his bare paws through it.
He shakes off that thought as he keeps brushing through the same tail, taking it slower and slower as he makes his way up it; the knots and tangles getting worse as he goes.
It’s clear Tails tried to manage it on his own, but just couldn’t get to the parts of his tailors closer to their base.
He finds himself frowning at the image: Tails alone in that wrecked house, desperately trying to brush out his tails with tears in his eyes and no one around to wipe them away and-
He should focus on the Tails in front of him, the one quietly fiddling with his chao toy and resolutely not acknowledging him despite the grip he has on Tails’ tails.
“This is okay, right? I’m not hurting you?” He asks as he makes his way through a particularly nasty knot near the base of the tail.
“Nuh-uh,” Tails mumbles, turning his head and meeting eyes for just a moment before turning his attention back to his chao toy, Squeezing it tightly and tucking it under his chin.
Whatever keeps him occupied.
They lapse into silence again as he continues to make his way closer and closer to the base of the tail. He hums to himself, examining the muscle hidden under all that downy fur with his paw. It definitely feels strong, far more developed than the rest of the kit’s bony frame, but he still finds himself frowning. They might be strong, but to lift both of them and all their things into the air?
There was definitely something else at play, much like Sonic’s speed. He wonders if anyone back in West Side Village knew about his flight. Probably only that uncle he mentioned.
He pauses, looking at the two tails side by side, and lightly rubs a paw over them. It’s another secret he doesn’t mind keeping, one he’d gladly take to his grave. It’s not as though he actually has anyone else to tell, but the sentiment’s the same regardless.
“Halfway done!” He calls out, more so to pull him from his own thoughts than anything else. He compares the two Tails and smiles, self-satisfied by his own work. While not pristine, the brushed out tail is almost unrecognisable from what it was before. He cringes at the comparison to its twin, making him think he should have done this days ago.
He continues his work, plucking fur off the brush as he goes, adding it to his growing pile, humming all the way.
Tails’ seems to have relaxed somewhat, shoulders slumped and, while it’s hard to see at this angle, a small smile on his face. His hold on that chao plush seems to have relaxed too, though it stays safely tucked under his chin and he runs a paw up and down one of its arms.
He finishes brushing out the second tail quickly, and finds himself frowning again when he realises he’s finished. Any other time, he’d be glad to be finished with a task like that, but he found this oddly calming.
He heaves a sigh and stands up. “Alright, I think I’m all done here!”
Tails’ ears twitch at that and he stands up and twists his head around, trying to get a good look at his tails.
When he does, Tails’ eyes almost bulge out of his head.
“They’re- They’re clean! And neat! Thank you!” Tails exclaims, grinning, shifting his hold on his chao toy to one arm so he can run the other paw through his tails.
He watches on, bemused by how entranced Tails is from the simple act of running a paw through his tails without snagging a claw on a tangle or knot.
“Looks like I got whatever was left of your winter coat out too,” he comments, gesturing to the pile of fur beside him.
Tails walks over to examine the pile, expression screwing up into mild disgust at the sight. He can’t help but chuckle at the sight.
“Who knows, there’s probably enough here to make a coat for your little friend there,” he jokes, and points towards the chao toy still in Tails’ grip.
Tails grumbles something before raising his voice and saying, “No offense, but I can’t picture you sitting still long enough to manage something like that. Besides, Wren doesn’t need anything like that.”
He sidesteps the first comment, since this doesn’t feel like the time to list off all his different jobs to Tails, and tilts his head at the mention of the chao’s name. “Wren?”
Tails nods. “Yeah, Wren. Short for Wrench.”
Of course it is.
He can’t stop the delighted giggle he lets out at that.
“Well that’s fine, the birds can just use it for the nests instead. There’s plenty to go around anyway,” He says, dragging Tails to his side and ruffling the tuft of fur on his head.
“In any case, I could use a snack,” he continues, keeping an arm around Tails and leading him back to their abandoned bags.
He doesn’t comment on how Tails leans into his side as they walk, but he does silently relish the feeling of the kit practically curled into him.
It’s been another few days, and he’s dying for a run.
Perfect day for it too. Clear skies, gentle breeze, just the right side of mild. Gaia’s practically begging him to take advantage of this.
He wonders…
Tails would probably be okay with it, he’s still hunched over his notebook anyway. He woke up that morning with an idea at the tip of his tongue and can’t seem to get it out onto pages quite yet.
“Hey, Twin-Tails!” He calls out from the end of the clearing. Tails perks up immediately, ears flicking up from where they were pressed against his head, mouth turning from a frown into a smile.
“What is it? Are we heading off?”
He shakes his head.
“Not quite yet. I was actually thinking of getting a run in, if that’s okay with you?”
“Oh!” Tails exclaims, eyes brightening. He pulls himself up onto his feet and runs over to the hedgehog. “Sure, go ahead! If you like I can even time you.”
“Really? Well okay then, since you’re offering.” He looks out onto the horizon and thinks for a moment.
“Okay,” he begins, eyes not leaving the horizon as he stretches out his legs. “Remember that huge tree we passed maybe 3 days ago? The one with the trunk about as thick as a waterwheel is tall?” Tails nods. “I’ll run there and back in one go.” He takes the runner’s stance, bending down and getting ready to shoot off.
“Right! On the count of three then,” Tails says.
“One-”
His quills stand on edge. His gaze focuses on the giant tree breaking apart from everything else on the horizon.
“Two-”
It feels like lightning, coursing through the air right now. Every breath he takes is sharp.
“Three!”
He takes off in a blur, his brain and eyes taking a few precious seconds to catch up with his legs.
And then it’s heaven.
The wind whistles in his ears, twigs snap under his feet, and the sun beams down as if guiding him towards his goal.
And on he runs.
Down past the stream, and a circle of rocks- the hollowed out logs covered in moss that Tails refused to get close to.
(”Do you know how many bugs could be crawling around in those things?”)
Chaos, has he missed this.
He almost slows down, when the tree is mere acres away from him, just to savour it a bit more.
But Tails is timing him.
He darts to one side of the tree, one hand grazing the bark as he twists around the whole thing, and back again.
When he sees Tails at the edge of his line of vision, the kid’s standing right where he left him, notebook clutched to his chest.
When he reaches the clearing again, he’s panting, completely out of breath as he slumps down against a tree.
“How long did that take?” he asks as Tails hands him the water canteen.
“Two hours and thirty seven minutes,” Tails replies, scribbling something down in his notebook.
He slumps further against the trunk and groans. That long? He was sure he'd gone faster before.
Tails, of course, pays no mind, instead mumbling to himself as he paces back and forth.
“I’ll track the distance more precisely with a map later, and then maybe we can use this as a baseline for tracking how your speed improves! Of course there’s other things to account for too, like weather, inclines, and the like, but it would be an interesting case study,” he rambles, tapping his pencil against his chin.
“I mean, if it’s interesting to you, I don’t see why not.” Gives him an excuse to run as fast and as hard as he can, either way. “Anyway, you ready to go? We should probably get this show on the road.”
“Oh, uh, yeah! I can jot down my last few notes while we walk.”
The morning walk is silent from then out, save for the sound of Tails jotting down notes, but eventually those too taper off.
It’s not for another while that he notices Tails casting furtive glances his way.
“What’s up? Need to stop for something?” He asks. Tails has a tendency to not say he needs a break or to fix something until it can’t be ignored anymore, which in turn just puts him in a worse mood for the day.
“Oh, uhm…” Tails startles, looking down at his boots. “Okay don’t… Don’t laugh at me, or take this the wrong way but….”
He looks back up, conviction sobering his gaze to an uncomfortable extent.
“I forgot your name.”
He blinks. “What?”
Tails breaks eye contact then. Hiding behind his notebook as he groans.
“I know, I know, it’s embarrassing. But I was going to write your name down here and I realised it totally slipped my mind. I mean, you had to have said it at some point but I just can’t remember! At all! My memory’s never been this bad, ever!” Tails exclaims.
He knows Tails just asked him not to laugh, and he really shouldn’t, not when Tails is so distressed, but he can’t help but giggle a little at all that energy spent for something so trivial.
“Tails, relax. It’s no big deal- I don’t even have a name in the first place.”
Tails pulls his notebook away from his face and stares. The silence makes his ears ring.
“What.”
“…I don’t have a name.”
More silence.
”You don’t have a name.”
Tails just keeps looking at him. He never knew silence could have weight to it until now.
“You don’t have a name!?”
He flinches as Tails’ voice bounces through the air, said weighty silence shattering in an instant.
“How?” Tails continues exclaims. “How do you go so long without a name?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, I just never really needed one.” If anyone wanted to get his attention they usually just called him Kid, or Blue, or even the occasional brat when he was causing trouble.
“It just never came up,” he continues. Besides, he never really went out his way to learn anyone’s name either.
Not until Tails.
Tails, still baffled more than he really thinks is necessary, pulls back and eyes him suspiciously. He looks back down at his notebook then, this morning’s findings scrawled out in front of him, eyes turning bright and sharp.
“…How about Sonic?”
“Hm?”
“Sonic. I mean, I need something to call you, right? And you can run at supersonic speeds. I think it, y’know, fits.”
He hums in consideration. Sonic. Sonic. Tails said it fits him.
It isn’t smart of him to go around flaunting his speed, something he’s always known but is now beginning to understand as he gets older, but it’s not like anyone’s gonna guess from a name…
And Tails said it fits him. Tails made it for him.
“I like it,” he announces, smiling down at Tails. “It has a nice ring to it, ‘Sonic and Tails.’”
Tail’s expression opens up like the sky after a thunderstorm. He quickly looks off to the side, and clears his throat.
“That’s great! We should probably get moving again though, don’t want to waste any more time that could be spent getting us closer to the next town!” Tails says, stuffing his notebook in his bag and scampering down the dirt road.
Sonic chuckles and jogs to catch up.
“Sonic!” Tails calls out when he finds some berries freshly sprouted from a shrub.
“Sonic…” Tails grumbles when Sonic ruffles that same tuft of fur on his head and teases him about how small he is.
“Uhm… Sonic?” Tails says when he trips over a stump and one ankle looks significantly bigger than the other.
“G’night, Sonic…” Tails mumbles as he drifts off to sleep, curled into a ball on the bedroll.
They make it to the next town after another few days of travel, and the first thing Sonic does is make a beeline for the library, pulling Tails along with him.
He plonks Tails right outside the front door of the building.
“Stay here while I find some work,” he says, already turning on his heel when Tails groans in frustration.
“What? Come on Sonic, I can help too!”
Sonic looks back over his shoulder. Despite his protests, Tails hasn’t moved an inch.
“Maybe when you’re a bit older, kid! You’re not really cut out for physical labour just yet,” he calls out, waving Tails off and continuing his stroll towards town hall.
He waits until he hears the library doors open and shut before he looks back again, just to be sure Tails did, in fact, go in.
He huffs out a laugh.
It’s sweet, really, how much Tails wants to help, and Sonic appreciates it, really! But that doesn’t change the fact that it was hard enough for Sonic to find paying work when he was closer to Tails’ age, and he was already taller and stronger than the kit.
Besides, Tails’ time is much better spent putting that brain of his to use and learning as much as he can when Sonic’s able to get enough work to feed them both and keep a roof over their heads for a few nights.
Turning away from the library, Sonic endeavours to do just that.
At dusk, when he’s covered in mud and wet cement from hours spent toiling away on a build site, with a room in the inn already booked for a few nights, he slips through the heavy wooden doors of the library.
“Tails?” he whispers, yet his voice still bounces off the wooden shelves lined with tomes. He looks around for that tell-tale amber fur, but doesn’t see any sign of life- the place is totally deserted.
“You looking for something?”
Sonic seizes up in surprise at the voice on his right, just now noticing the lone librarian at his desk. “If so, make it quick. I’m closing up for the night soon,” he grumbles.
Sonic nods, before moving through the shelves that tower over him. Better stocked than a lot of the libraries he’s come across, most of them are actually filled with books.
All the easier for Tails to get lost in.
“Tails,” Sonic whispers again. “Come on kid, we’ve got a hot meal and a real mattress waiting for us.”
He didn’t… leave, did he? Sonic thought he made himself clear about the whole ‘staying where Sonic knew he’d be safe’ thing. Sure, he didn’t say that in so many words, but the point was still made, right?
Even if Sonic’s just some other kid he’s travelling with right now, and he doesn’t really have any actual authority over Tails… Sonic just assumed he’d listen. He’s been pretty compliant for the most part, why start ignoring Sonic now?
“Tails!” Sonic whispers again, though this time it comes out more as a hiss. A growl, maybe.
If he’s not here then where could he have gone? It’s not like he could’ve found work in town, Sonic wasn’t kidding when he said no one would think Tails capable (he is very, very tiny after all), and even if he had found some work, it probably would’ve been laying bricks alongside Sonic, so there goes that theory.
Sonic sighs at the sight of another empty desk. It’s not like he’s an exceptionally fast walker, and no way did he risk using his tails this close to such a big town without Sonic to keep a look out. So for him to not be here…
“C’mon kid, where are you?” His heart is pounding so hard it might just break through his ribs. The heavy, rhythmic thump drowns out the soft creaking of old wooden floors.
He feels like he’s just run across the country, what was he thinking leaving Tails on his own like that? It's not like people would just magically not see his tails, who’s to say that someone here didn’t have the same problem Dumb and Dumber did?
Chaos above-
He turns yet another corner, only for his heart to stop in its traitorous tracks, and for the room to dip into blessed silence.
Slumped against a pile of books taller than him, eyes closed and even, soft breaths falling from his slightly agape mouth, is Tails, sound asleep. He’d find the picture adorable if his brain wasn’t such a mess of thoughts right now.
Sonic sighs, and runs a hand over his face. No reason to freak out in the first place. What is he feeling right now, relief, anger, worry? Either way, he’s not too keen on how strong said feeling is, making his stomach roll.
“Tails”, Sonic crones, walking towards him. “Come on, buddy. This isn’t the place for a nap.”
He shakes Tails’ shoulder, strong enough to nudge, weak enough not to jostle. Tails starts to snore.
Sonic sighs. No way is the kid waking up anytime soon.
He grunts and grumbles as he hoists Tails onto his back, made all the harder by the fact that Tails is nothing but dead weight and how difficult manoeuvring around his tails is.
Tails’ head slumps on his right shoulder, little puffs of warm air tickling Sonic’s neck each time he breathes out.
Sonic nods in acknowledgement to the librarian on his way out, said librarian smirking at the scene before him.
“Alright kid, let’s get you into a real bed for a change,” Sonic whispers as he carries Tails’ through the now quiet main street, the weight on his back a foreign comfort.
Candlelit streets give way to the oak halls of the inn, as Sonic lugs Tails up the stairs, and lets him fall, as gently as he can, onto one of the beds.
Sonic’s about to leave him there as is, but when he glances back, well-
The kid just looks so cold.
Sonic teases the blanket out from under Tails, careful not to wake him (though, it seems like nothing short of the end of days could wake him right now), and tucks it around him with all the gentleness Sonic can muster.
After another moment’s pause, Sonic creeps over to Tails’ things and fishes Wrench out of his bag, gingerly placing the plush by Tails’ paws.
In his sleep, Tails pulls Wrench close, burying it under his chin and against his chest. He settles again, heaves a sigh and snuggles deeper into the blanket.
Sonic sighs, frowning at the map in his hands. The more he’s been travelling with Tails, the further he’s gotten from the mountain range. From word of mouth, the best route through starts in a merchant town to the north, one that seems to be as far as he’s ever gotten before winter began setting in. If he made a direct path for it, now that he knows how to do that, he could maybe make it there by… mid-summer, maybe?
Sonic exhales deeply, letting his arms droop as he looks up at the trees above him.
Sunlight cuts through the branches and leaves above, leaving a warm slant of light along Sonic’s face, just missing his eyes. Most of them have lost their blossoms, and the ones left blooming aren’t far behind. Spring’s almost over, then.
At the end of winter, when he first made his plans, he expected to start crossing over the mountain range at the start of summer at the latest. Now, he’d be lucky to start in autumn, what with getting to said town in the first place and making sure he has enough money to make the trip.
He knew, of course, that bringing Tails along with him would slow him down, but he didn’t see it bringing him to a screeching halt like this. He figured that after the second or third town they came across, they would happen across a good enough place for Tails to settle and that would be that. Tails could toil away at his inventions in peace and Sonic could skip town and country without a second thought.
He could still do that of course, it’s just…
Sonic’s gaze is pulled away from the foliage above by the sound of Tails’ mutterings.
Right now, the kit’s sitting by the river bank, trying to fashion a fishing rod out of a sturdy branch and vine. Sonic did try to point out the lack of bait, but apparently the idea of eating something besides the dried and salted fish from the last town over seems to have overridden any reasonable thoughts running through Tails’ mind. Honestly, Sonic thinks it’d just be faster to snatch a fish right of the water with his claws.
Suggesting that, however, is out of the question. If he were to, then he’d have to show Tails how to time his swipes just right, and no way is Sonic getting any closer to such a deep river.
Still, Tails is doggedly determined, the way he wraps and ties the vine around his stick, testing the tightness of the knot and how much the stick can bend before it risks snapping in half. In the short time Tails has been trailing after him, Sonic’s come to realise the kit approaches everything with the analytical mind and methodical thoroughness he brings to his inventions.
So, after a moment of pondering, Sonic realises he should be equally thorough in deciding on a place, right?
He can’t exactly leave Tails just anywhere, not with the stares they get walking into any town or village they come across. It’s gotta be somewhere Sonic knows Tails’ll be safe in. Plus, Tails himself is hardly gonna settle for just anywhere- some backwater village or mining town won’t be any better than where Sonic found him. What good is all those brains if he’s stuck somewhere he can’t put them to good use, or use them in the way he wants to?
Sonic looks back up at the trees. One lone blossom is left among the newly sprouted leaves, a soft pink petal dangling dangerously in the soft breeze. Clinging on despite the outcome only seconds away.
No one can keep up with him. He’s known this for as long as he’s known anything, so it makes sense he has to take things at everyone else’s pace.
Walking out from under the trees and over the river bank, Sonic sees that Tails has thrown his makeshift line into the water. Hunched back and eyes trained on the rushing water, the only sign that Tails knows Sonic’s approaching is the flick of his ears.
Sonic crouches down beside him, and once he sees that the fish are simply ignoring Tails’ line, gives his shoulder a commiserating pat.
“I hate to say ‘I told you so’ about the bait, but then again I feel like I’m not gonna get a lot of chances to tell you that. So I told you so about needing bait,” Sonic says, smirking at the glare Tails sends his way.
“But I’m just so tired of the food we have,” Tails mumbles, eyes darting back to the water out of guilt. Sonic merely snorts and ruffles the fur on Tails’ head. He’ll admit, the food on the road takes a while to get used to, especially when the chance to find wild fruit and vegetables is spotty at best.
Today, however, Tails might be in luck.
Sonic’s feeling especially brave today it seems.
“You know, there is a faster way of doing this. Without the need for anything fancy,” Sonic says, gesturing to Tails’ stick. He changes his stance, moving from his crouch to his knees for better balance, and flexes his claws. When he looks back to Tails, his eyes are wide, mouth in a small “o” and eyebrows beginning to furrow. Curiosity, dawning understanding, and apprehension all mixed together.
“Watch and learn, kid.” Sonic turns his attention to the fish fighting against the water current. Wild salmon, maybe- it is that time of year. As he leans in closer to the water, careful to keep one set of claws dug into the soft soil of the river bank, he can feel Tails leaning in closer too, straining to get a better look.
Still, Sonic keeps his eyes on the prize.
Choosing when and which fish to strike is more instinct than anything else, so when Sonic’s eyes catch on a fish that’s struggling against the current just that bit more, it’s almost automatic.
One second, then another, and Sonic is sinking his hand into the water, Claws piercing through skin as everything else below water scatters for dear life. When Sonic yanks his hand out of the water (cold, choppy, sickly) he reels back, falling from his knees onto his backside.
Tails whoops from the side, and Sonic imagines the grin on his face and feels pride well up inside him. The fish flails for a few fruitless moments, before the lack of water begins to set in and Sonic’s claws dig deeper.
When everything has fallen still, Sonic rights himself and carefully lays the fish down on the lush grass. Tails joins him at his side, quietly marvelling at his catch. Sonic carefully pulls his claws out from underneath the fish’s skin. Blood bubbles up from the puncture wounds, and Sonic scrunches his nose up at the scent, with Tail’s muttering out a quiet “gross” beside him.
Still, it’s a pretty good catch. Longer than average, it should feed them both with some to spare. Tails seems to think so too, if the wagging of his tails is anything to go by; any faster and he’ll lift himself into the air.
“That was so cool! Can I try next time?”
Sonic chuckles, pulling himself to his feet and bringing his catch with him. “Be my guest. The less water I have to deal with, the better.” Honestly even just getting his arm wet like this has put him a bit on edge. He really needs to get it dry.
But first.
“Now, how about I show you how to get this thing ready for cooking?” Sonic asks, and Tails beams at the offer.
He doesn’t mind taking it slow, just this once.
He can make an exception, just for Tails.