It was a warm day for winter, and the sun felt hot and hungry on my back. Far above us, seafoam clouds ambled across a cornflower blue sky. Nearby, the trees lining the narrow road swayed slow and lazy. I watched how the stranger’s creamy white forelock wavered in the breeze as his expression morphed from surprise to curiosity to something like warmth. It was like watching water flowing.
In those days I was constantly underestimated, particularly by boys and adults-- and that was most of the world. But the golden stranger did not underestimate me, and for that I instantly liked him. But I had to be very very careful to hide my delight. I wore, as they say, my heart on my sleeve, although I went through great, painful lengths to attempt not to. So the edge of my lips might have curled upward for just a moment, but I was quick to temper the expression.
“Hah! I can hardly trust someone with... feathers.” I tried very hard not to wince at my own crude sentence. I don’t know where this feather prejudice came from... I just scrambled for a reason to not trust him, and the feathers seemed like his least trustworthy features. The rest of him was normal. Likeable, even, though I would die before admitting such a thing..
I stared at the boy with as much judgement and deliberation as I could muster. “State the password or my wolf will eat you.” I was quite good at being serious. Furfur took a sidelong look at me as I urged him in the place only we could hear, “play along, please? For me?” After an overdramatic sigh, he raised his lips in the slightest snarl. I beamed my enthusiastic appreciation through the bond between us. I had forgotten about my face, which had broken out into a triumphant smile. This I quickly smothered as I returned to the game at hand.
“Or,” my eyes gleamed with pleased mischief, “you can pay the toll. It’s up to you.” I shrugged, conveying practiced nonchalance. I could certainly get used to playing games that were crafted in my favor.
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