”Well….well enough.”

Well enough, hm? I got that feeling myself, actually, how Tembovu had welcomed me in the Edge, letting me laze about and lay around and freeload until the season turned (and I swear it was turning, I swear it was, it was the right time for it, wasn’t it, the right time, it was time to go—) And all that kindness still wasn't enough to keep me here.

My breath was coming out in little flutters, weak things, because I was using the bulk of my body to prepare for the Thing. The Goodbye. The thing I was too chickenshit to give to Tembovu but somehow I was racking up the courage to give it to Lee right here. Was it because he was here and I couldn’t just book it out of there? Was it because he was Lee?

I mean, it ain’t like I was trying to find a reason to say goodbye at all. There was just that nagging part of my mind (that snoring, farting, smelly asshole part of my mind) (Ye it me) that was telling me there was nothing else I could do, no other choices I could make. Except yeah actually I had all the choice in the world (people loved to tell me that) but there was one that I was sticking to goddammit and that was the choice to leave, to keep moving forward and onward even though they were only taking care of him well enough.

So I sucked in my breath for a deeper sigh, because all my mental and physical was prepped and all I needed were the words. “So,” I started, and I was gonna blow everything: my name, his name, what I was thinking, where I was going, and whether or not oh shit  oh shit the bastard was falling—

Like his weight was just crashing down and his neck was all over me and my shoulders were gripped and Sparkmarrow’s point dug into my shoulder (that’s a metaphor too and I still don’t understand them shits—

—and there was a soft growl behind me but I didn’t hear it cuz I was muttering “Shitshitshitshitshit” in a persistent hiss, all of Lee’s body and weight (and warmth) pressing down on me, pulling us both to the ground.

I didn’t make it down there with him, though. It would’ve happened if I was younger, maybe, but my legs were stockier and my breast was heavier and he was still falling but my neck was groaning and popping trying to keep him on his feet and I failed that shit but I stopped the crash, anyway. He was just lowered, softly, carefully onto the frosted grass that forgot it was supposed to be spring already.

And Chico switched forms on me while I wasn’t looking, flapping up to a tree bough on the large, heavy wings of an owl, while I looked down on Lee there on the ground with a sore neck and wide, concerned eyes. “What happened? What’s wrong?”