Samuel was staring at him, and Jigano couldn’t really blame the man. He wanted to stare, too, but he couldn’t get a good angle to do it at, and no one had left any convenient mirrors lying around the little woodland clearing. He wanted to verbally snap at his new friend, to lash out at someone, words dry and biting— but, no, Samuel was as lost and confused as he was, and whatever had happened they would likely need each other to figure out a way to get back to the settlement.
Assuming they were still on Caido, of course. And that there was a way back.
He was babbling in his distress, spilling more information than he had ever intended and not helping the situation. He shook himself all over and felt, for the first time, a foreign weight on his back. He hardly had to crane his head around to realize it was probably a saddle, and this time had to restrain a far more physical desire to bite something. Preferably the person or being that had done this to him. ”Longdreamer was an old friend of mine,” he dismissed, the story one for a different time and, perhaps, a lot more alcohol. ”But no use to us here.”
The feather appeared to be the only clue at hand, and Jigano approached it warily. At least he was used to relying on his sense of smell in fox form to help him sort out the world around him, and he had hoped that an equine nose might prove as useful. It didn’t, as it turned out, but what was surprising was the incredible courage – or foolhardiness – that Samuel showed in picking the feather up.
It was warm to the touch but didn’t burn, despite the living fire that seemed to brush its edges. Jigano snorted in surprise then tried to look closer – and found it impossible to bring both eyes to bear on the small object at the same time. He had to turn his head, examining it with one eye at a time, and gave a grunt of agreement with Samuel’s analysis. It was all said so calmly and matter-of-factly that the question almost slipped by with another noise of agreement, but in the midst of it Jigano jerked his head up and danced back, tail flagging and neck arching in affront.
”I beg your pardon, sir? And just what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
Assuming they were still on Caido, of course. And that there was a way back.
He was babbling in his distress, spilling more information than he had ever intended and not helping the situation. He shook himself all over and felt, for the first time, a foreign weight on his back. He hardly had to crane his head around to realize it was probably a saddle, and this time had to restrain a far more physical desire to bite something. Preferably the person or being that had done this to him. ”Longdreamer was an old friend of mine,” he dismissed, the story one for a different time and, perhaps, a lot more alcohol. ”But no use to us here.”
The feather appeared to be the only clue at hand, and Jigano approached it warily. At least he was used to relying on his sense of smell in fox form to help him sort out the world around him, and he had hoped that an equine nose might prove as useful. It didn’t, as it turned out, but what was surprising was the incredible courage – or foolhardiness – that Samuel showed in picking the feather up.
It was warm to the touch but didn’t burn, despite the living fire that seemed to brush its edges. Jigano snorted in surprise then tried to look closer – and found it impossible to bring both eyes to bear on the small object at the same time. He had to turn his head, examining it with one eye at a time, and gave a grunt of agreement with Samuel’s analysis. It was all said so calmly and matter-of-factly that the question almost slipped by with another noise of agreement, but in the midst of it Jigano jerked his head up and danced back, tail flagging and neck arching in affront.
”I beg your pardon, sir? And just what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
