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Chapter Text

Tommy awoke to a hand on his shoulder and a whisper hissed into his ear. “Wake up.”

The tone of voice shattered Tommy’s sleepy haze. His eyes snapped open to see Wilbur’s shadowed form standing over his bed. As Tommy’s eyes adjusted to the dark he realized Wilbur’s gaze was locked on their bedroom door and the sliver of golden candle light leaking out beneath it.

Tommy wondered why someone had lit a candle. Jenny said they were dangerous to have on at night, so they were only used during emergencies. But the house was so quiet, Tommy didn’t think there was an emergency.

“Wil, what—?” Wilbur’s hand clamped over his mouth.

Wilbur glanced at Tommy, wide-eyed, and gave a jerky shake of his head before his attention snapped back to the door.

Beyond the door there was a muffled thump and the scrape of something on the wood floors. Tommy wondered if they were playing a game. Maybe Kathy and Jenny were playing hide and seek. But they both were firm about bedtime. It would be silly to start a game at night, and while Tommy was asleep. Maybe Kendall was playing with them? He’d be in trouble in the morning if he was.

The crack of light beneath the door flickered. Wilbur was still frozen in place. Tommy frowned. Why was he so still?

In some distant corner of the house, someone coughed.

Goosebumps crept up Tommy’s arms.

The sound was muffled, but it was odd in a way that sent fear trickling down Tommy’s spine where it pooled icy in his stomach. The cough was too wet and ended too soon. Tommy couldn’t grasp why, but some part of him was instinctively horrified by the noise.

Wilbur flinched, his face somehow growing paler than it already was.

A heartbeat later someone screamed. It was long and ended in a horrific sob. It might have been Jenny.

Tommy froze in place. And then the house beyond the door exploded in sound.

There was a crash, another scream, this one cut off in another wet cough. Doors slammed open and loud, angry voices shouted. The voices Tommy recognized were edged in fear. He didn’t recognize the angry ones.

Wilbur jerked, scooped Tommy off the bed and into his arms before running to the window.

Tommy gripped Wilbur’s pajamas with white knuckles as he stared over his brother’s shoulder at the door. The sliver of light flickered and danced as the chaos continued to rage outside. Somewhere, glass shattered.

“Run!” Jenny screamed. “ everyone run!” She was silent after that. Someone else, further away in the house, let out a muffled sob. It sounded like Kendall.

Wilbur swept the curtains aside with his free arm and wrenched the window open. The whole time Tommy watched the door with the same frozen stare Wilbur had worn earlier. Terror locked his eyes in place, and he dreaded the turn of the knob. The bangs and shouts died away, replaced by hushed voices. They spoke to each other in quick clipped words, and they were getting closer. Tommy didn’t recognize any of them this time.

As Wilbur shifted Tommy in his arms a shadow pooled in the crack of light beneath the door.

Tommy couldn't breath. Couldn’t tell Wilbur to hurry. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away from the shadow just beyond the door.

Without a sound, the knob turned, and the door swung open.

Tommy blinked as the pale face of a young woman peered into the room. They stared at each other for an eternal second, silent. Tommy looked into her eyes, glittering in the moonlight, and was reminded of Jenny’s kind smiles. Maybe this was a strange dream and everything was going to be alright now.

Then Wilbur hoisted Tommy onto the windowsill and the spell was broken.

The woman’s expression darkened and she stepped into their bedroom. Wings, snow white and dappled with ash grey arched from her shoulders. Her taloned hands dripped with a dark liquid in the moonlight. It coated the tips of some of her feathers.

In the corner of his eye, Tommy saw Wilbur turn to follow his stare.

“In here,” she called over her shoulder.

Wilbur pushed Tommy out the window. Tommy hit the grass back first, coughing when the wind was knocked from his lungs. Wilbur scrambled over the window sill an instant later, chest heaving. The woman in the house snarled and reached for them.

Wilbur yanked Tommy off the grass and they were running. Tommy couldn’t keep up with his brother’s longer strides. He tripped over tree roots and hiccupped a sob. A moment later Wilbur swept him into his arms.

Facing back toward the house, Tommy watched shadowed figures darting across the lawn and porch, Some had the arc of wings growing from their backs and one had horns curling from his brow. Standing alert by the front door, two figures with sweeping tails stood at alert. Panic tightened around Tommy’s chest once again. They were too close, they were going to be spotted.

An instant after Tommy took all this in, a figure, this one human, bolted from the distant side of the house. Tommy couldn’t tell who it was, Frank maybe. The man sprinted across the grass, making for the tree line. There was a shout, and one of the figures on the porch fell onto all fours. With terrifying speed, they bounded down the porch steps, across the lawn, and leapt at the man’s back.

Tommy pressed his face into Wilbur’s shoulder as the two hit the ground. He didn’t see the rest, but he heard the high, pain filled scream followed by the silence. Wilbur grip on him strengthened at the sound, his footfalls hastening. When Tommy dared raise his head the trees had closed in around them, hiding the house and the figures in the dark of the night.

As he bounced in his brother’s tight embrace, Tommy scanned the forest around them. Wilbur panted and gasped in Tommy’s ear, periodically drowning out the drone of crickets and frogs. Leaves rustled in the gentle breeze, flashing spots of moonlight over them. Tommy felt like it should be quieter after what just happened. Or louder.

He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he knew it was important. And that Wilbur, his confident and unshakable brother, was still terrified. The icy pit in his stomach remained and he clung to his brother’s shirt.

“Where are we going?” Tommy asked. He was surprised by the wobble in his voice.

“Hush,” Wilbur gasped out between his breaths.

Tommy looked back into the darkness, the way they’d come. He’d never left the house before. Sure he’d played outside it, and in the woods around it, but Tommy knew they weren’t going back this time. The axis of his world had shifted, and he couldn’t quite grasp the new shape if it yet.

Between the branches of the trees, a figure swept across the stars.

“Wil,” Tommy heard himself cry, his voice high and thin, his hands fisting in Wilbur’s shirt.

A sharp whistle split the air from above and the beat of wings echoed in Tommy’s ears. The shadow swept over head, the foliage crashed, and the woman from the house landed in front of them.

Wilbur skidded to a halt, stumbling to a knee and jostling Tommy before scrambling back to his feet. The woman yelled something short and sharp. Tommy tried to crane his neck to see her, but Wilbur was already sprinting in another direction.

But Wilbur stopped again.

A man appeared in the trees in front of them, horns curling from his brow and knife in his hands. Wilbur backed up, trying to keep the two from surrounding them.

“Wait. Wait,” Wilbur said, his voice too fast, too hoarse. The tone had Tommy pressing his face into Wilbur’s shirt once again. He didn’t want to see these people with their strange appearances and angry stares. He didn’t want to see the knife. Wilbur’s arms wrapped around Tommy like a vice, his hand pressing Tommy’s face into his shoulder.

“You can’t out run us,” the woman said. He voice was flat. Empty. No one have ever spoken to Tommy with that voice before.

“Please let us go,” Wilbur gasped. He was still backing up, but his steps were getting faster, more jarring, and his breathing sped up. “Just—Just—stop. Stop! Please! Don’t!” Wilbur’s voice was high and panicked by the end, ending in a wet sob. At the sound, Tommy found a cry of his own wrenched from his chest. He trembled and tried to stifle his cries against Wil’s shirt.

Wilbur inhaled sharply and the world shifted. They hit the ground and Tommy felt a hand wrap around his arm. Claws pressed into his arm and yanked. Tommy looked up to the winged woman standing over them, her eyes dark as she reach for Tommy’s neck with her free hand.

“No!” Wilbur screamed, pulling Tommy away from the woman. Wilbur kicked her hands away, and stripes of pain bloomed across Tommy’s arm where the woman’s claws had dug in. Once she’d lost her grip, Wilbur pulled Tommy close, and turned to clutch Tommy to his chest. Wilbur got a foot under him, tried to stand, and fell back as the woman racked her claws across his face.

Wilbur screamed, falling back to the ground and sobbing. He kept hold of Tommy, but pressed his hand against the right side of his face. Tommy watched, his panic fading beneath a strange new cold that swept through him, as blood trickled between Wilbur’s fingers and dripped off of his chin.

Wilbur curled around Tommy as another sob shook him. “Don’t look,” Wilbur said, pressing Tommy’s face to his shoulder again. “Don’t look, don’t look.”

“Are you going to help,” the woman snarled. “Or just stand there while I deal with this.”

Tommy had forgotten the man with the horns, but now he spoke. “They’re—Cali they’re kids.” The man’s voice sounded strained.

“They are now,” the woman’s voice was harsh, but had lost some of its edge. “And someday they’ll grow up into big, dumb, hateful human men. Now you can do nothing and make this worse for all of us, or you can help me put them down with as little pain as possible.”

The man gave them a heavy look, but didn’t argue.

“You take care of the bigger one,” the woman said, turning back to them.

Wilbur shuddered at the words. “Please we promise to go away.” He sat up slightly, but remained curled over Tommy, his gaze directed to the ground. “We don’t want to hurt anyone. Please don’t kill us.” Tommy found he didn’t feel much at the words. The whole world felt fuzzy and distant.

Tommy shifted to peer at the man and woman, one eye able to see past his brother’s shirt and curls of hair. The man wore a conflicted expression, his mouth a thin line. The woman’s gaze remained hard as they both neared.

Wilbur kicked a leg out, pushed them back as the two approached. Wilbur spoke, his voice rising in volume and speed as the two loomed over them. “Don’t. I don’t—We haven’t done anything. He’s only six please!”

The woman had gripped Tommy’s arm again, but before she could pry him away, the man gripped her wrist.

“Stop,” he said.

“Bad,” the woman snapped, “we have to do this.”

Bad glanced at Tommy. “Cali. They’re Sapnap’s age. They--They’re only kids.” Bad’s expression hardened. “I’m not doing this, and I’m not letting you do this.” The man pulled her hand away with a sharp tug.

Cali level the man with an icy glare. “I get it. You’re a parent and I get it. But let me do it if you can’t. Because some day Bad these two might be hunting your boy.”

The man looked down at them, and Tommy noticed his eyes were red. He’d never seen someone with red eyes before. He studied them with wide eyes, admiring the lighter streaks of scarlet and the way they faintly glowed.

“We’ll hide,” Wilbur said, his voice rushed and jumbled. “I promise we’ll hide and never hurt anyone. I swear it.” He slowed down. “Please help us.”

Bad took a moment longer to consider them, before in a flash of movement he spun Cali around, looped and arm around her neck and said, “run kids.”

The woman snarled, kicked and twisted but the man held on tight, his face locked in a grimace. “Go!” he snapped.

Wilbur shot up, Tommy still held tight, and bolted. They crashed through the brush and away from the sounds of the struggle. Cali’s swearing and yells, gradually fading, chased them to the edge of a creek. Wilbur splashed across it without pause and on the other side Tommy could only hear the forest.

Wilbur ran for a long time, Tommy felt. And when he slowed to a walk, his chest heaving and sweat dripping down his arms, he only allowed it for a short time before running again. Though the length of time Wilbur could run was getting shorter and shorter, and the time he spent walking much longer.

Tommy was slumped against Wilbur’s shoulder when the black night sky began to warm to navy. By the dawn slowly grew glowing on the horizon, Wilbur was stumbling along at a shamble.

Wilbur tripped, stumbled, and twisted as he fell. Tommy was still jarred against the damp grass and dirt, and Wilbur stayed curled there for several seconds before he heaved himself up.

“Let me see your arm,” Wilbur said.

Tommy held out the arm the woman had clawed. He could see the damage, now that the golden rays of the sun were leaking over the clouds about. Four long cuts curled around his upper arm, crusted with dry blood. It had run down to his wrist before drying, making his whole arm sticky. He picked at some of the dried blood by his elbow, watching it flake off before Wilbur’s hand ghosted over the wound.

Wilbur stared at the cut, his brows furrowed. “I think it’ll be okay.” Tommy stared at the way Wilbur’s blood had dried on his cheek and crusted in the curls of his hair. Wilbur’s own four claw marks ran from his forehead to his cheek, splitting his eyebrow but missing the eye. The wound had coated the entire side of his face in blood, and some had run down his neck and into his shirt collar.

“You’re hurt,” Tommy said. And with that the cold feeling that had muffled the pain and terror of the world around him vanished as suddenly as a branch breaking beneath him. He inhaled deep and stuttering, and when he went to breath out a sob wrenched its way out of him. And suddenly he couldn’t stop. All he could do was gasp around the tears and wails that poured out of him.

“Toms,” Wilbur said before his own voice broke and Wilbur was crying too. Wilbur pulled Tommy into a hug as his shoulders shook and tears streamed down his bloodied cheek. “We’ll be okay.”

He rocked Tommy as he murmured. “We’ll be alright.”

“We’ll be alright.”

Chapter Text

The rustle of leaves brushed against Wilbur’s consciousness, nudging him towards awareness. As sleep fell away, the pain of the night before returned. The right half of his face ached from the cuts the avian woman had left on him, and his legs, feet and arms radiated pain from the miles long hike he’d carried Tommy. But the grass felt cool against his arms, and the sun warmed his skin. He opened his eyes to a head of blonde hair, lit gold but the morning light.

Tommy snored softly, his face still red and lined with tear tracks. His hand was curled in Wilbur’s shirt. They were both smeared in blood, snot, and mud, and Wilbur’s throat hurt from lack of water. Wilbur inhaled slowly, fighting back the tears that threatened to resurface.

Everyone was gone. Their home and everyone they’d loved had been destroyed, and Wilbur knew they still weren’t safe. He had to find food, water, clothes, and he had to do it without help. Jenny had told him they were the only humans for many, many miles. So Wilbur and Tommy were on their own now. The isolation, fear, and pressing need to survive pressed down on Wilbur like a physical weight. He shuddered, holding in a sob to not wake Tommy. He couldn’t afford to break down now. Tommy needed him, and Wilbur had to figure it out.

Stamping down the last of his dread, Wilbur sat up. The forest around them shifted in the wind. Sunlight filtered through the broad leaves of the oak above them as birds fluttered between the branches, calling to one another. A few feet away, a squirrel darted through a fern, sending the leaves bouncing. It felt far too peaceful. Wilbur’s world had shattered the night before, but it seemed that didn’t matter at all.

Wilbur looked down to Tommy, still curled on his side. He was tempted to let his brother sleep, even more to lie down again with him, but the fear of being followed prevented him.

“Toms,” Wilbur reached down and gentle shook Tommy’s shoulder. “Come on. Time to get up.”

Tommy groaned, wrinkling his nose and curling into the grass. Wilbur smirked. “Come on now.”

Tommy’s eyes cracked open and he yawned. “Don’t wanna.”

“I know but we need to keep moving,” Wilbur didn’t mention that he didn’t know where they were going. He didn’t let himself dwell on that thought too long.

After coaxing Tommy to his feet, Wilbur took his hand. Wilbur scanned the woods, picked the direction he thought was most directly away from where they’d come, and led Tommy forward.

“Wilby I’m hungry,” Tommy said after they’d been walking through the tree for a few minutes.

“We’re going to find food now,” Wilbur said, with no idea where they’d find it. He knew what blueberries looked like, and strawberries, but he didn’t have much hope of finding them in the forest. He didn’t know how to hunt, or set a snare, or fish. He pushed the thoughts aside. Maybe they’d find a berry bush.

“Okay,” Tommy grumbled.

They crunched through leaves, tramped through more mud, and once crossed a shallow river. Wilbur was certain they had cuts on the soles of their feet, but there was nothing he could do about it now. So they continued.

After what must have been hours, the tree began to thin. Wilbur found he could see farther between the trunks, and only the occasional bird flew overhead against the blue sky.

They found a road an hour later. The packed dirt ran between the trees, marked by the tracks of wheels and footprints. Wilbur’s eyes darted over them as he stood at the edge of the road. Some tracks were simple shoe prints like any human would wear, but others were larger, with three taloned toes, and some were cloven hoof prints too large to be a goat or deer.

Wilbur pulled Tommy back away from the road and into the woods.

“Wibly I don’t wanna walk in the forest.” Tommy leaned away, back towards the path.

“We can’t,” Wilbur said, his hold on Tommy’s hand tight. “It dangerous to use the road. But we’ll follow it.” Images of the people from the night before flooded his mind. Tommy’s expression fell, and they walked away from the road in silence.

Wilbur walked uphill until the road was barely visible between the trees, then he began to tromp through the woods parallel to it. Fear curled in his stomach, and he watched the road more than his own steps. This wasn’t a human road, and wouldn’t lead to a human town. It would be full of the same creatures and more that had hunted them last night. Were probably still hunting them. Wilbur glanced back, but the forest was still and silent now that the wind had died. No distant figures followed them between the trucks or flew overhead.

The town would have food, and as a strong as the fear icing his veins was, the ache of hunger was stronger. If he waited until night, he could sneak into town, steal some food and leave. He could do that. The kids in his books did sneaky things like that all the time. The thought of Jenny reading to him before bed came to mind and filled him with longing. He’d give anything to go back to his quiet bedroom in the safety of the house. But that was gone now, so he pushed the memories aside.

It occurred to Wilbur after another hour of following the road, that Tommy was surprisingly quiet. He would have expected him to be whining and dragging his feet, or crying, but he’d been silent and stoic for most of the journey. Wilbur glanced down at Tommy. The boy stared straight ahead, his expression blank.

Shock then, Wilbur guessed. He was probably feeling it to if he was being honest. It would explain the way he still expected to wake up in bed at any moment.

Through the lattice of trees, Wilbur caught sight of a flash of white. Soon after he could make out the shape of buildings. Down the hill, set in a valley, was a town.

A few of the larger central buildings were made with white brick, around them were dotted smaller building made of wood or brick. They must have been shops. And in a rough circle around it all were wooden homes with thatched rooves. Smoke curled from several chimneys, and a few dots of color wandered the roads.

Wilbur and Tommy stood high above it, hidden in the shade of the forest. The shadows of the trees stretched long in the setting sun. Wilbur stared down at the town. Now that he was actually here, he wasn’t sure what to do.

There were so many monsters down there. The idea of sneaking in, stealing what they needed, and sneaking back out suddenly seemed far more intimidating. Some monsters saw much better than humans in the dark, and Wilbur didn’t know if it would be better to go now, or wait until night. And should he bring Tommy? The idea of leaving him, alone, in these woods terrified him, but how could he bring him into this town full of monsters?

“Wilby,” Tommy said, “I’m really hungry.”

“Okay,” Wilbur said, pulling Tommy a few steps back into the forest. “Okay. I’m going to—Well maybe . . .” Wilbur trailed off, staring down at Tommy’s expectant expression. He didn’t know what to do. What if he left Tommy here and the people from the house found him? Or someone from the town? Or any wild animal? What if Wilbur was caught and never came back and Tommy was left waiting in the dark alone and afraid. But what if he brought Tommy with him and they both got caught? He’d have taken Tommy straight to their deaths.

Wilbur’s hands shook. He didn’t want to go into that town. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. He wanted Jenny to come sprinting out of the trees and hold them close and tell them it would be alright. But Jenny was dead. He hadn’t seen it happen, but Wilbur knew she’d have found them by now if she was alive.

Jenny had always taken care of them. She was the closest thing Wilbur and Tommy had to a mother. Wilbur knew he wasn’t her biological son, and he wasn’t sure if Tommy was his biological brother either, but she’d still loved them so much. She’d told him that one day, when he was older, she tell him how she’d found them. Wilbur only had the faintest of memories of his life before Jenny and the house. But he remembered iron collars shining in dark cramped spaces. He remembered Tommy curled at his side for warmth. Wilbur doubted he’d ever know the full story now.

Wilbur dragged himself back to the present. Wilbur was the oldest now, which meant he had to take care of them. And he had to make a decision.

“I’m going into the town,” Wilbur said. “And you’re going to stay here.”

Tommy’s face crumpled. “But . . .” his eyes darted over the forest around them. The sun had nearly set, and soon the shadow of the mountain would be sweeping over them.

“I know you’re scared,” Wilbur said. “But this is the safest place for you, and I’ll only be gone for a short time, okay? I’m gonna help you climb a tree, you’re good at that right? And all you have to do is stay there, quiet, until I come back.”

Tommy sniffled. “I don’t need help. I’m the best tree climber.”

“Okay,” Wilbur said, forcing a smile. “Show me how it’s done then.”

Wilbur watched, arms half out and ready to catch, as Tommy clambered up the nearest oak. He got about ten feet up and settled himself in the fork between two branches. “See?” Tommy said.

Wilbur smiled. “You’re right. You are definitely the best tree climber.” Wilbur put on is best serious voice. It wasn’t hard. “Now, stay there. Don’t make noise, and don’t come down for anyone other than me. You’ve got to stay there and stay quiet.”

Tommy rubbed his palms together and scowled at them. “You’re coming back soon?”

“Promise,” Wilbur said, his throat tight.

“Okay.”

Wilbur let his stare linger on Tommy for another heartbeat. His brother looked so small in the big oak, in nothing besides his pajamas. Then he turned away and walked back toward the town. He’d come back. His hands were trembling again as he descended the hill. By the time he crouched in the bushes at the edge of town, night had fallen.

The murmur of voices, all sounding deceptively human, drifted from somewhere deeper in the town. The flicker of torchlight grew as the citizens prepared for the night.

Wilbur glanced over the buildings closest to him. A few had lights on inside, the flicker of fire light warm and inviting. Unfortunately, a stretch of clear grass and wooden fencing separated him from the houses. Wilbur wouldn’t dare cross the space, not without knowing where the streets beyond lead first. So instead Wilbur began to circle the town, clinging to the shadows and brush.

Every few houses he’d see movement in the windows or voices chattering away inside. On the back porch of one house, he saw an older woman sitting on a well-worn chair, knitting. But this woman had a pig-like nose, tusks, and hooved feet drumming against the wooden floor. Wilbur slunk further back into the woods on his way passed that house.

They’d been taught the basics of history at the house. At the time, Wilbur could tell details had been left out, but he assumed he would learn them later. But the primary lesson had been made very clear: humans were a dying species, and all others should be feared. Wilbur thought he might know what the woman on the porch was. Probably a piglin.

Jenny had said piglins were one of the worst creatures to encounter. They were bigger than humans, and stronger. During one lesson Jenny had rolled up her arm to reveal a long scar curling up her arm. She’d told them she’d gotten it from a piglin.

Once Wilbur was sure he’d left the piglin’s home behind him, he crept back toward the homes. He passed several more homes without seeing any sort of cover he could hid behind, or anything useful within reach. Tears pricked at his eyes, and when he swiped at his eyes he only succeeded in irritating the wound on his face. He didn’t know what to do.

Wilbur found himself curled up in a bush, his face pressed into his knees and his hands gripping his hair. He had to get into town, but he couldn’t get into town without being seen, and if he was seen he’d be killed.

He felt so trapped. Like there was no choice he could make that wouldn’t end with his and Tommy’s deaths. They’d escaped the raid on the house but they were still going to die.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice asked.

Wilbur gasped, pulling his face from his knees to see a girl crouched in front of him. She must have been about his age, with brown hair draped over her shoulders, and staring at him with concerned eyes. She also had two small horns nestled in her hair and sharp claws.

“I- I,” Wilbur couldn’t find his words. He stared at her and couldn’t seem to unfreeze himself.

The girl frowned and peered closer at him. “Oh my,” she said, her eyes widening, “your face! Quick come inside. I’ll get my mother.”

The girl gripped his wrist and went to pull him up. “No!” Wilbur yelped. He pulled his arm from her grip and back further into the shrubbery.

The girl blinked. “But your hurt. My mom can help she’s really nice.”

“No, I um,” Wilbur’s eyes darted over her shoulder to the house beyond. It must have been hers and she’d snuck up on him while he was panicking. He pushed himself to his feet and took as step back.

“Wait,” the girl raised her hands. “I won’t tell my mom, if that’s so important. But you look really hurt. Just, wait here. I’ll be right back.” The girl’s stare lingered on him before she darted toward the house.

Wilbur should run. The girl could be going to get her mother, despite her promise. Maybe she’d realized what Wilbur was and was trying to trick him. But, she’d seemed so genuinely concerned, Wilbur hesitated. He’d wait behind the tree, he decided. If she came back with an adult, he’d run. But first he’d wait and see.

Crickets chirped around him and mud squished between his toes as Wilbur waited. There was no angry shouting from the house, and the lights remained on. Wilbur shivered against the growing chill of the night. Then the backdoor swung open, throwing light over the porch and yard, and the girl scampered back toward him. In her arms was a bundle.

She paused at the spot she’d left him, her face falling.

Wilbur swallowed. His face hurt, his feet hurt, he was cold and hungry. He needed help. He stepped forward. “Over here,” he whispered.

The girl’s eyes snapped to him, a smile breaking over her face as she ran to him.

“Okay, sit down,” she said, kneeling in the grass. Wilbur slowly followed her instructions, watching her hands riffle through the bundle she’d brought.

She withdrew a bottle, strips of cloth, and a pair of sandals. One of the sandals had a broken strap, and the leather was worn soft, but they were shoes. “Here,” she said, pushing them into his hands. Uncorking the bottle, she drenched one of the strips of cloth. “Now let me see your face.”

The girl pushed his hair back with a soft hand, pausing when Wilbur flinched before gently wiping down the side of his face.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

Wilbur flinched at the sting in his cuts. “Wilbur.”

She smiled. “I’m Niki.” Her smile faded. “What happened to you?”

Wilbur shrugged. He wasn’t going to say an avian woman had tried to kill him.

The silence grew between them as Nikki continued to clean Wilbur’s wound. Once she was satisfied, she wrapped a strip of cloth around the injury, knotting the bandage at the back of his head.

“There,” she said. “That should help. They’ll scare, but it will heal.”

Wilbur’s hand ghosted over the bandage. “Thank you.” He said, his voice small.

“Oh,” Nikki said. “And I have these.” She handed him the bundle.

Wilbur unwrapped it to find it was a cloak, made of soft cloth with two horns sewn into the hood. The bundle also held a loaf of bread and more bandages. Wilbur ripped the loaf of bread in half and tore through six bites before he’d even thought about it. He blinked, coming back to himself and swallowing his most recent bite of bread.

Nikki’s concerned look had returned. “You must be really hungry. Wait here.”

Nikki ran back to the house and this time Wilbur didn’t bother hiding. When she returned she had a bottle of water, another loaf of bread, and a small sack. She helped him load the things she brought inside.

“Can I,” Wilbur hesitated, “can I take that too?” He pointed to the bottle Nikki had used to clean his wound. “My brother . . .”

Nikki slipped the bottle into the bag.

“Are you sure you won’t come inside?” she pleaded.

Wilbur shook his head. “I can’t. And I think I have to go.” He needed to get back to Tommy. Wilbur slipped on the sandals and stood, Nikki doing the same.

Wilbur backed up a step, unsure what to say. “Um, goodbye I guess.”

“Goodbye,” Nikkia said.

Wilbur took two steps and turned to look back. “Thank you,” he said, the words pouring out of him. “Thank you so much. You’ve . . .” saved my life. Saved my brother’s life. Given us a chance of surviving. “I’m never going to forget this.”

Nikki gave him a small smile, concern still clinging to the edges. “I’m happy I got to help you. Stay safe. Goodbye Wilbur.”

“Goodbye Nikki.”

Halfway back to where Tommy waited, Wilbur had a thought. He took the cloak Nikki had given him, grabbed a handful of dead leaves, and stuffed them into the little cloth horns of the cloak. He ended up wedging a few twigs in as well. When he put the cloak back on and flipped up the hood, it looked like Wilbur had horns under the cloak. All it would take was a close look at Wilbur’s claw-less hands to tip someone off, or a gust of wind blowing away the hood, but at a cursory glance Wilbur would look like a ram child.

He was hidden.

Wilbur approached the tree, pushed off the hood of his cloak, and looked up to see Tommy right where he’d left him.

“Toms, I’m back,” Tommy scrambled down the tree and slammed into his, wrapping Wilbur in a hug and pressing his face into his shirt.

Wilbur hugged him back and ran a hand through his wild hair. “Sorry I had to leave. But I’ve got food.”

Tommy looked up. “Really?”

Wilbur carefully pulled Tommy’s arms away and presented him with one of the loaves of bread. Tommy attacked the loaf, and Wilbur withdrew the remaining half of his bread. They ate in silence, and it only took them a minute to polish off the food.

Tommy sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Let’s get that cut cleaned now, okay?” Wilbur said.

Tommy nodded and let Wilbur clean the cut on his arm the same way Nikki had. Once that was done, and Tommy’s head kept dropping to his chest, only to snap back up, Wilbur settled them at the base of the oak. He threw the cloak over them and pulled Tommy close.

“Goodnight Tommy.”

“Night Wilby.”

Tree frogs sang around them, and the leaves rustled in the soft breeze. Wilbur knew they still weren’t safe, but they were a lot better off than they had been this morning. Tomorrow, Wilbur had enough of a disguise to slip into town, get what they needed, and leave. The plan relaxed Wilbur enough to allow him to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Long and slender fingers, tipped in black talons, danced over the guitar strings. Wilbur watched them, transfixed, as he had been for several minutes now.

Wilbur was tucked away in the shadows beside a flower shop, it’s wooden patio decorated with colorful bouquets and potted plants overflowing with foliage, peering into the sunlit town square. His hood was up, false horns on display. Wilbur laid a gloved hand on the warm brickwork of the wall beside him and leaned forward.

The avian playing the guitar sat on the edge of a bubbling fountain, playing to the quiet town square. The occasional person stopped to listen, but the crowd was small at this hour. The only people who’d lingered in the square for more than a moment was a little piglin girl sat on the cobblestones, playing with a small dog, and a young reptilian reading a book at the café across the square. Wilbur shuffled back into the alley and leaned his back against the wall. His hands shook.

Wilbur really wanted that guitar. Not just because he loved music, but that guitar could be a steady source of money. He knew how to play well enough that he was confident he could make money like this avian was: playing in town squares for some spare change. If Wilbur could get money, he wouldn’t need to steal, and if he didn’t steal it would be easier to hide. But first, he needed the guitar. And he didn’t have money.

The debate, on whether or not to steal the guitar had been spinning through Wilbur’s head for the past half hour. His stress was only doubled by the pressure of time, and the knowledge that the longer he lingered here the more danger he would be in. Tommy was hidden in the woods outside of town again, and he’d be getting anxious by now.

Wilbur realized the music had stopped. He darted forward and peered into the town square. The place on the fountain the avian had sat was empty now. Wilbur’s gaze darted across the square until he caught sight of the avian’s beanie, guitar on his back between his brown wings as he walked away.

Wilbur took a step to follow, hesitated, and darted out of the shadows and into the sunlit square. A young piglin girl darted past him almost brushing against him and giggling as she chased after her puppy, causing Wilbur to stumble. A couple, an older ram and his boyfriend chatted near the fountain as Wilbur crossed the square. They glanced his way before returning their attention to each other. Wilbur’s heart thundered in his ears, but he kept his head down and his stride even. He’d walked through towns several times now. No one had realized he was human. It wouldn’t be any different this time.

The avian left the square and continued down one of the busier streets. Wilbur clenched his fists and followed, weaving between the figures of piglins, rams, avians, reptilians, and other’s Wibur didn’t recognize.

Wilbur wasn’t sure how he’d get the guitar off the avian. Grab it and run? No, the man was too tall. Wilbur would never be fast enough to get the guitar off him, with the strap across his shoulder securing it in place. But Wilbur did have a small knife. It could be enough to cut the strap and make a run for it. He could do that.

Wilbur kept his eyes locked on the man’s back, making sure to stay as far back as he dared. He didn’t want the man to know he was being followed. But when the crowds began to thin Wilbur picked up his pace, slowly closing the distance between himself and the man.

The path had narrowed, the cobblestones turned to dirt, and the last person Wilbur had seen besides the Avian had been left behind a minute ago. When the avian turned a corner and disappeared down what looked like an alley between two old brick homes, Wilbur ran to catch up. As he reached the turn, he pulled the knife from his boot.

The man almost halfway down the alley, and Wilbur took one breath to steady himself before he darted forward, his steps light and quick. Wilbur crossed the distance without a sound, knife ready, and the avian continued on without looking back. Until Wilbur reached for the guitar strap.

Brown wings snapped out, startling Wilbur into dropping the knife and flinging him against the brick wall. Wilbur turned to run when he was jerked to a stop by his cloak, the clasp digging into his throat. Wilbur hands flew to the clasp of his cloak, but he paused. It would be easy to slip it off and run, but then the man would see he was human and he would have lost the cloak. He couldn’t lose the one thing that kept him hidden. Wilbur coughed as the avian hauled him back.

“Seriously kid? What are you like, five? Where did you get a knife from?” The man shook him with the words.

Wilbur kept his gaze on the man’s feet, keeping his head low and the cloak in place, terrified that a gust of wind of shift of the cloak would have the hood slipping off.

“Let go!” Wilbur yelled, pulling back against the man’s grip on his cloak. He pushed at the man’s hand, trying to pry the taloned fingers open to no effect.

“Relax kid,” the man said. “Geez I’m just gonna find your parents. Hey. Listen!” Wilbur hadn’t stopped twisting and thrashing, and he finally tried stomping down on the man’s boot.

“Enough!” Before Wilbur could react the man hand reached up with his free hand to jerk back Wilbur’s hood. As the fresh morning air brushed through Wilbur’s hair and over his ears they both froze.

Wilbur’s gaze finally snapped up to meet the man’s. They stared at each other with matching shocked expressions.

“Well shit,” the man breathed.

Wilbur broke from the man’s gaze, lunged forward, and bit the man’s hand as hard as he could. He tasted copper.

“AHH! What the fuck!” The hand clutching Wilbur’s cloak let go. Wilbur pulled away from the man and sprinted. He made it ten steps before the sound of snapping wings followed him.

Two arms looped under his arms and hauled him back into the alley. Wilbur’s heart pounded in his ears but he didn’t dare scream. Drawing anymore attention here wouldn’t result in any help. Instead Wilbur clenched his scream behind his teeth and kicked, failed, and clawed at the arms holding him up.

“Kid listen,” the man spoke into his ear, speaking fast. “I’m not interested in hunting down humans okay? I don’t give a shit about any old wars or times past. But I think if you calm the fuck down for a second we can both benefit from-shit!” Wilbur’s heel had cracked against the man’s knee, cutting him off with a pained gasp, but his grip didn’t relent.

The man shook him. “I can help you hide!”

“I don’t believe you,” Wilbur hissed.

“Why haven’t I yelled for any guard?”

Wilbur’s struggles paused at the words. Why hadn’t the man called for help? The town guard would have come running, or neighbors to help the man drag Wilbur to the nearest guard station. Or just kill him there. But Wilbur thought of Niki, and Bad, the demon who’d helped Tommy and Wilbur escape those months ago. Maybe this man was like them?

“Put me down,” Wilbur said, this time his voice even.

The man blew out an irritated breath. “Just don’t flip out on me again alright?” The man lowered Wilbur to the ground and slowly let him go.

Once on his feet, Wilbur spun on the man and took a few steps back. The man flinched, but didn’t make to grab for Wilbur again.

The man’s face split into a grin. “Well you really are a human. Look at those ears.” Wilbur glared at the avian.

“What do you want?” Wilbur snapped, edging a few steps farther back.

“Sorry, sorry,” the man waved a hand. “Introductions. I’m Quackity. You are?”

“Wilbur,” Wilbur bit out.

“Well, Wilbur,” Quackity’s smile had an edge to it that Wilbur didn’t like, “I want just a small favor. Something that only you, or someone like you can help me with. And in exchange I can introduce you to someone who can hide you. That’s what that is right, a disguise?”

Wilbur glowered at the man and pulled his hood back over his head.

Quackity crossed his arms. “It’s an okay disguise at best kid, and I think you know that.”

Wilbur rubbed the fabric of the cloak between his fingers. As much as he hated to think of it, he did know it. Someday the cloak would be too worn out, or like today his hood could be removed, or some observant passerby would notice some out of place detail on him. The cloak wasn’t a permanent solution.

Quackity must have seen some of it on his face because the man nodded. “Exactly. But, I the guy I know can make something for you that won’t wear out, and will look perfect.”

“What does that even mean?” Wilbur asked. “That sounds pretty fucking vague you know. Besides, you haven’t told me what you want yet.”

Quackity shoved his hands into his pockets. “It means I know a witch that can enchant your appearance. He could make you look like a ram or something. It’d look like you have your own horns and talons and all that.”

Wilbur blinked. “That’s too good to be true.”

“It is true though,” Quackity’s smile vanished. “Listen, kid, I don’t have much sympathy for people who hunt down children. I don’t really want to see you torn to pieces, right? And I need something you can give me pretty badly. You’ve got something to bargain with right now.”

“What is it then,” Wilbur said. “Tell me or I’m leaving right now.”

“Okay, this is gonna sound bad, but I need you to listen. I need a small sample of— well of human blood.”

Wilbur flinched. And Quackity raised his hands and stepped back. “Not much! I swear I just need a small amount for medicine! There’s something in human blood my friend needs, I don’t know what, but that shits rare and expensive. And I need it soon.”

Quackity stared into Wilbur’s eyes, sly smile gone and a spark of what Wilbur thought was desperation in his gaze. Wilbur didn’t know if he should feel empowered by it, or more frightened. But the disguise Quackity had described would be perfect. Wilbur might even be able to live a life among these people, not on the fringes. But there was one important detail.

“I need two disguises,” Wilbur said. “And the guitar.”

Quackity grimaced. “Wow alright. You really ran with that. Wait, why two?”

“None of your business.” Wilbur said.

“Fine.” Quackity ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Deal. But I need you to come with me now.”

“Where to?”

“My friend’s house. He can give you those disguises and get the blood.”

At the mention of the blood another rush of cold adrenaline washed over Wilbur. He needed these disguises, but the idea of a strange creature taking blood from him scared him. And he still thought he might be walking into a trap.

“Well?” Quackity asked.

Wilbur wiped Quackity’s blood from the side of his mouth. “Grab me again and I’ll bite you harder next time. Let’s go.”

Quackity barked a laugh before setting off down the alley, waving for Wilbur to follow. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Wilbur snatched his knife from the dirt before trailing after Quackity, taking care to stay out of arm’s reach. They weaved through the streets back toward the busy parts of town. Wilbur lowered his head and shuffled on, watching Quackity check behind for him every few steps.

The reached a small shop squeezed between two others. Cobwebs laced the various crystals, plants, bones, and other trinkets in the tiny window next to the worn door. When Quackity swung the door open a bell rang. Quackity nodded for Wilbur to enter first.

Wilbur eyed the dim shop interior. He could make out shelves of bottles and packets, as well as a single desk near the back. He couldn’t see anyone inside. Wilbur glanced at Quackity, unable to bring himself to go inside.

What if human hunters were waiting for him to enter, ready to grab him? Quackity said he needed human blood because it was expensive, and Wilbur suddenly had the horrifying realization that he could be a source of wealth for the man. One he couldn’t keep if he called the guards or drew attention.

Wilbur stepped away from the door, hands trembling and gaze darting from Quackity to the shop.

“Kid,” Quackity whispered, “Wilbur. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear it. I just need your help. Only for a minute. Please. My friend is dying.” Wilbur stared at Quackity and couldn’t see anything but desperation in the man’s face. He thought of Tommy, and how much this could mean for them. He turned his gaze back to the shop door and steeled himself.

Wilbur climbed the two steps and entered the dark shop.

Quackity followed him, shutting the door and locking it with a click. The moment it shut the murmur and bustle of the town died, and all that remained was the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the depths of the store. Wilbur shuffled to put his back to the wall, hands gripping the edges of his cloak.

“Just don’t want anyone visiting while you’re here kid,” Quackity said, passing him by and heading for the desk at the back of the shop.

“Karl!” Quackity yelled. “You awake man?”

Wilbur realized that behind the desk was a curtain, and at Quackity’s shout a thud sounded beyond it. A moment later a man pushed the worn curtain aside and stumbled out over a pile of books. Blonde curls sprung at odd angled from his head, nearly covering pointed ears, and he blinked at Quackity with gold eyes.

“Hey Quackity,” the man yawned. “What’s going on?”

“I need a favor. I can pay you what I got today and the rest later, but I found the ingredient the healer needed.”

Karl frowned. “That’s great but how?” Karl’s face fell. “Please don’t tell me you bought a vial of something from some scammer?”

Quackity shook his head. “I’m not that dumb Karl. Besides I’ve got a guarantee. Wilbur, come meet Karl.”

Wilbur, who’d stayed near the door to watch the men, crept forward as Quackity waved him over.

Karl caught sight of Wilbur for the first time and his eyebrows rose. “Uh, nice to meet you Wilbur? Quackity what’s with the kid?”

“He’s a human,” Quackity said.

Karl jerked, his gaze snapping back to Wilbur. Wilbur flinched.

“What?” Karl gasped. “How— Why?” Karl stared at Wilbur.

Wilbur shifted in place, not sure what to do under the man’s baffled stare.

“So Karl,” Quackity said, “Wilbur has offered his help in exchange for something. A disguise, really. You can do that, right? I’ve seen you enchant all sorts of cosmetic stuff.”

Karl’s stare shifted between Wilbur and Quackity. “I guess? But this is— wow this is a lot.” Karl finally turned concerned eyes on Wilbur. “You told him what we need right? He’s okay with this?”

Quackity stepped away from Wilbur and gestured grandly to Karl. “Tell him what’s what, kid.”

Wilbur grimaced. “I give you a little bit of my blood in exchange for two disguises and his guitar. And the disguises need to last a really long time.”

Karl rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah okay I guess that sounds about right. Wait, two?”

Wilbur nodded.

“Is it for another human?”

“Yes.”

Karl glanced around the shop. “In order for me to make it semi-permanent I have to apply it in person. Where are they? Are they your parent?”

At Karl’s words, Wilbur’s mouth twisted into a frown. Wilbur wanted Tommy safe and far away from these people. There was no way he’d ever take Tommy to these men. Wilbur shook his head. “No. He’s not here.” Wilbur glanced at the door. “I don’t want you near him. Can’t you make the disguise here?”

Karl shook his head. “If the spell is going to be long-lasting I have to apply it directly, with another spell that uses your energy to sustain the disguise spell. It would have you sleeping an extra few hours a day in order to fuel it, but it would last forever so long as you get enough sleep and the mark isn’t broken.”

Wilbur thought the man sounded like he was telling the truth. The furrow in his brow made it seem like he was mentally working through the details. And really, if they wanted to keep him here now it would be as easy as grabbing him. Wilbur wouldn’t be able to fight them both off.

“I can take you to him,” Wilbur said. “But only you.” Wilbur figured the safest option would be to take Karl to Tommy, get the spell, and immediately leave.

Karl hummed. “Okay. I can do that.”

Wilbur nodded. “Right. Okay.” They stood in awkward silence for a few heartbeats.

“I guess you’ll want the blood now?” Wilbur said, hoping his voice was level.

“That would be the next step I guess.” Quackity said.

“How much?” Wilbur asked, his voice a little too small.

Karl fumbled for something in a desk drawer before withdrawing a small vial the size of his pinkie. “Only a small amount. This much.”

Cold crept up Wilbur’s fingers again. “Are you—” his voice faltered, “are you going to use a knife?” All Wilbur could think of was the knife and the avian woman from that night. The memory had his heart pounding in his ears.

“No,” Karl said quickly. “No, no knives. Here, Quackity and I will show you how it’s done.”

“We will?” Quackity asked. At Karl’s pointed look he nodded. “Oh yeah of course.”

Karl smiled and rounded the desk. Wilbur drifted out of arm’s reach, but watched as Karl and Quackity sat on the floor in front of the desk, facing each other.

“So,” Karl said, “first I draw a rune on Quackity’s arm near a vein.” Karl reached out for Quackity’s upturned forearm, and gentle set the point of his taloned finger to Quackity’s skin. When Karl moved his finger, a glowing gold line was left on Quackity’s skin. Soon there was a circle about the size of a walnut on the avian’s wrist.

“Now I simply make a connection,” Karl spoke softly and raised the vial with his free hand. The rim glowed a matching gold and Karl brought the opening of the vial to the ring on Quackity’s arm. When they met, the glow flared. “And then I make a very, very small incision and pull the blood into the vial.”

Wilbur leaned closer to see a perfect line of blood, as thin as a thread, appear from Quackity’s skin and defy gravity to flow into the vial. Once it was full, Karl snapped his fingers and the light on Quackity’s skin died. The light on the vial remained long enough for Karl to stopper it and then it too faded.

Karl turned his gently smile to Wilbur. “See? Only a little. And you can barely see the spot on Quackity. See?” Karl guided Quackity’s arm toward Wilbur. Wilbur examined the spot Karl had circled, but could only make out the tiniest dot.

“Oh,” Wilbur breathed.

Quackity grinned. “Barely felt a thing.”

Karl plucked an identical empty vial from the desk. “Are you ready for your turn?”

Wilbur eyed the vial and Karl’s talons. “Do you—” Wilbur felt suddenly very small, “do you promise only to take the blood? Promise you won’t . . .”

Karl slowly reached for Wilbur’s hand, and Wilbur stayed still. Karl’s hand enveloped his and gave it a gently squeeze. “I swear on all I love I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

Wilbur swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking, and nodded. “Okay,” he croaked. “I’m ready.”

Quackity rose and Wilbur took his place across from Karl, pushing his hood back so that he could see better.

Karl flashed him a reassuring smile as Wilbur extended an arm. Karl gently turned his arm over, palm up, and carefully set his talon on Wilbur’s skin. Wilbur watched with wide eyes as the glowing circle was drawn on his skin. It tingled slightly, but it wasn’t painful or hot like he feared.

Karl finished the circle, pressed the vial to his skin, and Wilbur flinched at the small pinch on his skin.

“That was it,” Karl said. “Just a few more seconds. You’re doing great.”

Wilbur watched the vial fill, feeling slightly ill at the sight, but it was only a moment later Karl was pulling the vial away and handing it to Quackity.

Quackity blinked rapidly before grinning at Wilbur. “Thanks kid. Lets give you your pay, huh?”

Wilbur rubbed his arm at the spot the vial had been. “Please.” This might be the point they grabbed him, pulled him into the back. Decided it would be better to keep him rather than let him leave.

But Quackity pulled the guitar from his back, his wings rustling, before setting the instrument in Wilbur’s hands. Wilbur gripped the guitar, feeling the strings vibrate beneath his fingers. He sniffled. “Thanks.”

Quackity shoved his hands in his pockets before pulling them right back out. “Don’t worry about it. Karl, I’m gonna . . .”

Karl waved him off. “Go get the medicine made. Good luck.”

“Thanks man,” Quackity shifted, ruffled Wilbur’s hair before he could protest, and made for the shop door. “Take care of yourself, Wilbur. And if you want to hang around we’d watch out for you.” Without looking back Quackity unlocked the door and swept out of the shop, vanishing into the sunlight.

“Time for my part huh?” Karl said, pushing himself to his feet. “Ready to go?”

Wilbur, while warry of leading Karl to Tommy, was itching to get away from this town. “Yes. Just follow me.”

After Karl retrieved a bag and locked up the shop, Wilbur lead him away from the town and into the forest. Every step he took away from the town felt like a pound off of his shoulders. And he found he wasn’t as worried about Karl as he should be.

Karl panted as they hiked up a hill, weaving between trees. Soon Wilbur caught sight of the looming pine he’s left Tommy by. They reached the tree, but Wilbur still hadn’t seen his brother. The first tendrils of panic brushed against him before a familiar bellow filled the trees.

A blur of blonde and brown darted from the trees, swinging a thin branch at Karl’s knees. Karl yelped, but between Tommy’s small arms and the thin branch Tommy barely bruised the man.

“Wibly,” Tommy yelled, “a bad one followed you!”

“Wait, Tommy, stop.” Wilbur wrestled the branch from Tommy’s dirt encrusted hands. “Karl isn’t bad, he’s going to help us.”

Tommy squinted at Karl before he caught sight of the guitar Wilbur carried on his back. Tommy beamed. “You can play music again! Play something!”

“Not right now Toms,” Wilbur held Tommy’s hand. “Karl is gonna help us hide. He’s a witch, so he’s gonna give us some magic. It’s really important.”

Tommy’s face screwed up into a scowl. “Don’t wanna.”

Wilbur glanced at Karl, who watched them with a concerned frown. “Is it just you two out here?” Karl asked.

Wilbur ignored the question and squeezed Tommy’s hand. He’d felt better about giving blood after watching Karl and Quackity demonstrate it. So Tommy would probably feel safer after watching Karl and Wilbur try it. Even though Wilbur himself was nervous.

Pushing aside his nerves, Wilbur smiled. “I’ll go first to show you it’s fine. Karl, can we start?”

Karl sighed and set his bag down on the forest floor, the leaves crunching beneath it. “Sure. Come over here.” Karl sat next to the bag and Wilbur sat across from him.

Karl drummed his fingers against his pants. “Okay. I think enchanting you to look like a ram would be best. It matches your features well enough and you have the cloak.”

“How does it work?” Wilbur asked.

Karl raised his hands to the sides of his own face. “I’ll basically place a rune on you that creates an illusion over you to create horns, talons and the like.” As Wilbur watched, the features of Karl’s face shifted. Karl’s gold eyes and hair darkened to brown, and his pointed ears rounded. Suddenly he looked entirely human. Tommy gasped.

The sight hit Wilbur with a rush of longing and grief. It had been months since he’d seen another human besides Tommy, and because he knew it was an illusion, Karl hurt to look at. It made Wilbur long for his lost family.

Karl dropped his hands and the human vanished, and the witch returned. “Then I’ll add another loop to the rune to make it run on the energy you get from sleeping. You’ll have to sleep an extra hour or two, but it’ll be self-sustaining. And the rune should go somewhere most people won’t see it but is close to your head. It’ll work best there.”

Wilbur frowned. “Uh, on my back then?”

Karl nodded. “I think that would be best.”

Wilbur pulled off the cloak and his shirt before shuffling to turn his back to Karl. Tommy met his eyes with a worried gaze. Wilbur smiled.

“Okay, now hold still,” Karl muttered. A moment later Wilbur felt the tingle of Karl’s rune in between his shoulder blades. Wilbur gripped the fabric of his pants and held himself ridged.

A moment later Karl sat back. “Okay that’s it. I’m gonna activate it. You might feel a bit tired.” There was a snap of fingers.

A shiver ran across Wilbur’s body, originating from the rune. Wilbur looked down to see talons, black and shining extending from his fingertips. “Whoa,” he breathed.

Across from him, Tommy burst into tears.

“Hey hey, Toms,” Wilbur went to hug Tommy but he flinched away. “It’s still me. It’s just an illusion. It’s not real. I’m still Wilby.”

Tommy glowered at Wilbur, tears slowing. “It’s pretend?”

Karl leaned forward. “Yep. I know it looks like he has horns but if you gave them a good poke they’ll go away.”

Tommy frowned and reach out to tap against something on Wilbur’s head.

“A little harder,” Karl said. A moment later Tommy gasped.

Wilbur reached up and felt through his hair, finding two small horns that must have been barely visible through his nest of hair. He could ghost his fingers over them, but the moment he pushed against them with force, they vanished. Wilbur pulled his hand away in surprise, only to find they’d returned a second later.

“They have a little bit of physical effects to them,” Karl said. “But that’s as good as it gets running off of sleep. You also won’t be able to cut things with your talons. The same thing will happen to them. Oh, and if you don’t get enough sleep the spell can’t run, so be sure to rest regularly. Also rams can’t eat meat like humans so remember that.”

Wilbur nodded along, running his hands over his new talons, then his horns, and back to his talons. Tommy watched him with wide eyes, eventually sitting down next to Wilbur and curling into his side. Wilbur wrapped an arm around him. “Ready for your turn, Toms?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Come on, we’ll match. And I’ll stay right here.”

“Actually,” Karl raised a finger, “I think it would be better to make Tommy look like a demon. Most rams don’t have blonde hair, so that would be an extra illusion needed if we wanted to make him a ram.”

“Hear that,” Wilbur jostled Tommy, “now you’ll look like a gremlin too.”

Tommy snorted and shoved back at Wilbur. “Can I have horns too?” he asked.

Karl smiled. “Yeah! Some demons have horns so that’s just fine.”

“Okay then,” Tommy said.

Moments later Tommy stared intently at the dirt as Karl drew a rune into his back. Wilbur watched with breath held as Karl raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Tommy’s blue eyes flashed to red, and two small white horns curled an inch from his hair and his ears became pointed. Long talons appeared on his finger tips and a tail, long and with a tuft of fur on the end appeared behind him. It was startling to have his brother’s appearance change so dramatically into something Wilbur usually feared.

Tommy’s hands ran over his horns, his ears, his talons, and finally his tail, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Wait,” the smile vanished into a pout. “I can’t feel the tail.”

Karl laughed. “That’ll move on its own depending on your mood, but it’ll stay close generally. Put too much pressure on it and it will give like the others.”

Wilbur reached out and squeezed the tail. After a second of pressure it gave way, the illusion breaking into a mist where he held it and reforming and he pulled his hand away. “Huh,” he said.

“Is that it?” Wilbur asked.

Karl hummed. “One last thing is if you think about it, you can turn off the illusion. Just focus on the rune on you back and thing about a light dimming. To turn it back on, just imagine the light coming back.”

Wilbur focused on his hands and did as Karl said. A shiver ran over him, and his fingernails reappeared. A moment later, Wilbur focused on the rune and brought the illusion back over him.

Wilbur jumped up and beamed. “Thank you!”

Karl’s smile was edged with something sad. “Of course. Do you um, want to come back into town? You guys could have a meal and stick around. I’ve got a spare room and bed. Quackity and I would look out for you.”

Wilbur was tempted by the offer. The idea of a warm meal, a bed, and Karl’s kind company sounded so nice. But Wilbur didn’t know if he could trust them. Maybe if Wilbur was by himself he would try it. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t risk Tommy’s safety.

Wilbur rose, pulling his shirt back on, the collar catching briefly on his new horns before he maneuvered around them. “No. We’ll be going now.” Wilbur turned to help Tommy back into his shirt. He caught sight of the rune on his back. A small double ring, the size of a small apple, between his shoulder blades in a deep red.

Karl’s concerned gaze flickered over them as Wilbur grasped his bag and the guitar. “Okay. And if the rune is broken the spell will break too. So be careful. If you need it fixed you can always come see me.”

“Alright,” Wilbur said. He didn’t think they’d come back otherwise. Wilbur wanted to put as much distance between the people who knew they were human, and Tommy and himself as he could. It was just too dangerous to stay close.

Wilbur took Tommy’s hand in his, his eyes sticking to their new talons before he pulled his gaze back to Karl.

“Thank you! But we need to get going.”

“Okay,” Karl deflated a little, but smiled. “You kids stay safe okay? You can always come back.”

Wilbur nodded. “I’ll remember that. Bye.”

“Bye bye!” Tommy waved at Karl with his free hand, his tail flicking, before both he and Wilbur started downhill, away from Karl and the town. There was a road at the base of the hill that Wilbur and Tommy could follow to another town. At the base of the hill, Wilbur looked back up to see the distant figure of Karl still watching them. The figure waved.

Wilbur waved back, then turned and set off down the dirt path into the forest.

Chapter Text

The warm sun against his skin, the gentle swaying of the cart beneath him, and the smell of sun-baked hay nearly had Tommy drifting off to sleep. But, the anticipation kept him awake.

“Wilby,” Tommy said, nudging his brother’s ribs with his foot. Wilbur sighed, his false-ear flicking in irritation. He lay curled up in the hay across from Tommy, guitar held close. The sight of ram features layered over his brother’s face was almost normal now. Almost. “Wilby. How much longer?” When Wilbur curled further into the hay Tommy nudged him again. Harder.

Wilbur groaned and sat up, straw clinging to his hair. “I don’t know Tommy. We’re not going to bother the driver about it.”

Tommy sighed and glared at his tail as it flicked beside him. They’d been hitching a ride on this wagon for what felt like days, though the nice kitsune couple had only picked them up this morning. When they’d seen Wilbur and Tommy walking the road on foot, going the same direction, they’d offered a seat in the back of the wagon. Wilbur had reluctantly accepted, at Tommy’s begging.

“It would have taken half the day on foot,” Wilbur said, squinting up at the blue sky, “and its almost noon, so probably soon.”

Tommy glared up at the sunlight filtering through the yellow and orange leaves above. “I’m bored.”

“Well you’re just going to have to be patient. Or take a nap or something.”

Tommy crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath. He worried the fang in his mouth with his tongue until the illusion gave way to the real tooth underneath. He left it alone, and the false fang returned a second later.

“Stop that,” Wilbur hissed, flicking a glance toward the front of the cart. The muffled conversation of the two kitsune could be heard faintly, but the stacked bales of hay hid them from view.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. No one can see anyway.”

Wilbur sighed and reached for their pack. “Fine. Let’s have lunch then.”

Tommy grinned and leaned forward. “Do we have any apples left?”

“Last one,” Wilbur said, withdrawing a small red apple and tossing it to Tommy. Tommy wasted no time in taking a big bite out of it. His fangs vanished halfway through the bite, due to the pressure of food, but shortly after getting their illusions Wilbur had checked that it looked like his fangs simply vanished into whatever Tommy was eating.

Wilbur continued shuffling through the bag. He pulled out a few strips of jerky from the pack, glanced in the direction of the kitsune drivers before throwing them to Tommy and pulling out half a loaf of bread for himself.

They sat back to eat in silence. As Wilbur chewed on his bread, he poured out the coin purse onto the wagon bed and quickly counted through them. Tommy watched Wilbur’s hands dance over the copper pieces, and the lonely silver coin. A frown creased Wilbur’s features before he stowed the coins away again.

“Are we in trouble?” Tommy asked around a mouthful of apple.

“No,” Wilbur said, “just a little low. Don’t chew with your mouth full.”

Tommy opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Wilbur’s lip curled in disgust. “Cut that out you absolute gremlin.” Tommy guffawed before finishing off his apple, core and all.

“Boys,” the voice of one of kitsune’s rose, “we’re here!”

Tommy scrambled up onto the hay bales, Wilbur right behind him. When he reached the top of the pile he froze, staring up in awe.

“Woah,” Tommy breathed. Ahead of them, the dirt path led to a looming stone wall, even higher than the treetops and stretching to either side as far as Tommy could see through the forest around them. Beyond the wall, smoke drifted from chimneys, and even farther away an enormous tower stretched up to the sky. A gold bell in the tower glittered against the blue sky as a flock of bird flew past.

“Welcome to Krane City, boys,” the kistune said, grinning at Tommy’s open mouthed amazement.

Tommy bounced in place. “It’s so tall! How big is it? Can we go up the tower?”

The other kitsune, the one Tommy had been mentally calling ‘Bandana,’ due to his accessory, laughed. “A couple of country boys, huh? Welcome to the big city! And it’s not the capitol, but it’s the biggest city this side of the mountains. As for the tower, I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask the bell keep, I suppose.”

The guards at the gate, an avian and a piglin, waved the cart through. The wagon thudded as the road changed from dirt to cobblestone, and the building lining the street came into view. Tommy stared at the houses lining the road. They were packed together, with only a sliver of space between the buildings, if any. Smoke curled from chimneys and the low drone of voices filled the air.

The first kitune, ‘Not-Bandana,’ frowned, half turning in his seat to face Tommy and Wilbur. “I thought you said you were meeting your parents here? But you haven’t been here before?”

Wilbur stiffened. “Well, we were traveling here together, before Tommy and I got separated. But we know to meet them here.” Grabbing their bag and swinging it over his shoulders, Wilbur gave Tommy a meaningful look before picking up the guitar. “Thanks for the lift!” Wilbur and Tommy leapt from the wagon and ran.

“Well we’d like to make sure you meet you parents before—hey! Wait!” Tommy glanced over his shoulder to see Bandana half stood in the wagon, watching them flee with a startled expression. Tommy grinned and waved before following Wilbur around a corner and out of sight.

_ _ _ _ _

The soft sound of Wilbur’s guitar drifted through the crowd. Wilbur sat on the steps, a looming statue at his back depicting a ram woman, her right arm raised and the other holding a sword. Moss clung to crevasses and thin cracks wove through the gray stone.  

A decent group had already gathered in front of the statue, all listening to Wilbur play his guitar. Tommy stood among them, appearing to be just another listener. And he loved Wilbur’s music, so he was listening, but he was watching the crowd as well.

Tommy’s gaze slid over the monsters around him. Most loomed over him. He was still only a seven year old human, and the adult piglins, rams, and reptilians absolutely dwarfed him. He had to crane his head to look up at them, but his height gave him a good view of bracelets, pockets, and bags.

The flash of silver drew Tommy’s eyes to a reptilian’s satchel. The buckle that should have held the bag shut was undone. Tommy drifted closer to the reptilian’s side, glancing up to make sure the man’s eyes were still on Wilbur. The reptilian gazed ahead, unaware of Tommy.

Tommy shifted closer to the reptilian and slowly reached a hand into his bag, his heart pounding. He kept his touch light and let his fingers brush over the contents. He felt parchment, something stiff and made of leather, and finally a cloth pouch. He closed his hand around the pouch, and felt the coins inside it, before withdrawing his hand in a smooth motion and placing it in his own pocket.

He didn’t dare dart away. Instead, he waited until Wilbur’s song drew to a close, and then drifted away with some of the others. Some dropped coins into the bowl beside Wilbur as they left. The reptilian departed without glancing Tommy’s way. Tommy retreated to the edge of the square, and listened to the rest of Wilbur’s songs in peace.

_ _ _ _ _

Wilbur reached for the next dish, dumping it into the soapy water and giving it a thorough scrub before throwing it into the next sink. In the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, shouts of the cook, and the drone of voices filled his ears. They were nearing the end of the dinner rush, and Wilbur was sweating from the absolute mountain of dishes that had stacked up during the last hour. He was tall enough to work at the sink, but short enough that the angle was awkward.

One of the staff appeared around the pile of plates, bowls, and pans. “Kid, were gonna need more bowls,” then she vanished.

“Okay,” Wilbur shouted over the racket. He reached for the stack of bowls and got back to scrubbing. The next hour passed in a blur of suds, sound, and shouted orders. By the time the dinner rush had died away and Wilbur had managed to get the mountain of dishes down to a scattered few, he was sweating, his hands hurt, and his back ached.

“Hey kid.” Wilbur looked up from the dishwater to see the piglin that owned the tavern waving him out of the dish pit. He set down the plate in his hands and shuffled over. The piglin held out two steaming bowls to him. Her hands were large enough that she could easily curl her fingers around each one.

“This one is for you,” she said, extending the one on the right to him. “This one is for your brother. Don’t mix them up or you’ll get sick.” The bowl on the left would have meat in it then. Each bowl had a spoon already in it. The spoon in the bowl for Tommy had a red stripe on the handle, while Wilbur’s had a green stripe.

“Thanks,” Wilbur said, ducking his head and heading for the dining room doors. He shouldered them open and beelined for the small table in the back of the tavern. The tavern crowd had thinned a little, but customers still shuffled between tables and laughed over their drinks.

Wilbur weaved around a table where a demon and an avian were arm-wrestling. The avian slammed the demons arm onto the table, rattling the plates on it and making Wilbur jump on his way past, before she shouted triumphantly.

Wilbur reached the table and set the bowls down. At the sight of the food, Tommy perked up and reached for the nearest one. “Yes!”

“Wait,” Wilbur pulled the vegetarian bowl away and slid the other over to him, “that one’s yours.”

Unphased, Tommy grabbed the offered bowl and started inhaling the food. Smiling, Wilbur hauled himself up onto the stood and followed his lead. The stew was warm and hearty and the best thing Wilbur had tasted in weeks. He finished it in a matter of minutes.

When Tommy’s bowl was clean he grinned, he slammed it back down into the table. “I like the city. There’s more food here.”

Wilbur nodded. “More work too.” They’d only been in the city for a day, but in that time they’d made more money than Wilbur had their entire way here. That, and he’d noticed people paid far less attention to them in the crowds of the city. Concerned adult monsters made the easy assumption that Wilbur and Tommy were someone else’s problem. That, and orphans didn’t seem to be uncommon here. The piglin that ran this place hadn’t been surprised in the least when Wilbur had asked to work for food and a place to sleep. She’d simply shrugged and asked if Wilbur knew how to wash dishes.

“We might be able to stay here for a while,” Wilbur said. “We’d have to keep working hard, but this is much nicer than the towns.”

Tommy swung his legs and nodded. “We could get a house Wilbur! We could have beds again, and we could paint the walls and have a pet cow!”

Wilbur laughed. “A cow? Since when do you want a cow?”

“Since I saw one on the wagon ride this morning. They’re very cool, you know.”

“Tommy, we can’t have a pet cow,” Wilbur tried to go for a stern tone, but found himself smiling instead.

Tommy glared. “Why not? They’re soft and cute and cool. A cow would be a great pet—” Tommy’s mouth snapped shut as the sound of hooves on hardwood approached their table.

Wilbur turned to see the piglin woman who hired him. “You’re in luck kids,” she said, her voice low and gravelly, “we’ve got a spare room for you tonight.” She held out a hand. In the center of her palm was a small dull key with a worn leather tag attached to it. It looked tiny in her enormous palm.

As casually as he could manage, Wilbur reached out and took the key, ignoring the small voice that told him she’d grab him if he got to close. Wilbur drew his hand back without incident.

“You’re room is upstairs, on the left. It’s room five. Clean your dishes before you go up, and don’t make a mess.” She paused, before nudging Wilbur’s shoulder. “Good work tonight.” And then she lumbered away.

Once she’d left Wilbur turned back to Tommy with a raised eyebrows. “Wanna go see the room?”

Tommy looked so excited he might pop.

Wilbur returned briefly to the kitchen to clean their bowls and spoons before running back to Tommy and up the creaking stairs.

Wilbur scanned the numbers besides the doors as Tommy practically vibrated at his side.

“This one,” Wilbur said when he found their room. He unlocked the old oak door and swung it open.

Tommy shot past Wilbur and through the doorway.

“Careful!” Wilbur called. “The light’s aren’t—” There was a thud.

“Ouch!”

Wilbur sighed and found the candle and matches by the door. He lit the candle and shook out the match before stepping inside and closing the door.

In the flickering light, Wilbur could now see Tommy clutching his foot and grimacing. “You should be more careful,” Wilbur said. “Demons can see in the dark you know. We’ll look suspicious if you do something like that where someone can see.”

A bed, covered in well-worn quits and a couple of pillows dominated the room. It was big enough for piglins and there was just enough space in the room for two bedside tables and a little walking space. It was the coziest thing Wilbur had seen in months.

“Oh shut up,” Tommy snapped, his face still tight. But a moment later his irritated expression melted away and he popped up and threw himself onto the bed. He let out a long sign. “Wilbur, it’s a bed.”

Wilbur grinned and set the lantern down on the nearest bedside table. On the wall facing the foot of the bed was a window, but the curtains were drawn and it was night outside. Wilbur flopped onto the bed beside Tommy and threw his arms out. He sank into the soft blankets and never wanted to get up. “This is nice.”

Before he’d laid down, Wilbur had thought about eating some jerky to get some meat in his diet away from prying eyes, but now it didn’t seem worth the effort.

Wordlessly, they both kicked off their shoes and crawled under the covers.

Tommy giggled and buried himself in the covers. “I’m never leaving.”

“I might not either,” Wilbur said. The weight of the blankets, the cushion beneath him, and the soft pillow to bury his face into felt like the softest, most comfortable thing Wilbur had ever felt. He was struck by the thought that it had been six months since he’d slept in a bed.

Six months since they’d lost everything.

Wilbur crushed down the thought. Tonight they were well fed, had a safe place to sleep, and had enough money and food for the next day. Wilbur decided he was going to enjoy what they had and leave it at that. Wilbur blew out the candle.

“Goodnight Tommy,” Wilbur said, reaching out across the blankets.

Tommy found his hand and they squeezed. “Goodnight Wilbur.”

They fell asleep curled up next to each other, warm, safe, and ready for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Wilbur squinted at the two bolts of cloth, rubbing each one between his fingers. The one on the left felt a bit softer than the one on the right, and Wilbur liked the shade of green better.

Tommy stood beside him and ran a hand down both samples. “That one’s better,” he said, pointing to the green one.

Wilbur looked up to the shop owner. “How much would two coats of this material cost?” he asked.

The tailor, an arachnid with a high voice and extra set of arms, tapped his chin in thought. His shiny black eyes swept up and down Wilbur before drifting over to Tommy. “Hmmm. The two of you are on the small side. I’d say… roughly 40 silver, for the both of you. If you decided to have the trim made with cloth and not leather, it would be a bit cheaper.”

Wilbur nodded and mentally tallied their savings. He was making roughly one, sometimes two silver a day working at Charlie’s tavern, and Tommy was earning about fifty copper each time he posted flyers for the city guard. It was a decent chunk of money, but reasonable considering what they were making and what they had saved.

“We’ll take two coats with this cloth, and the leather lining please.”

The tailor nodded. “In that case, come this way so I can take your measurements.”

Wilbur and Tommy trailed behind the man as he lead them further into the shop and behind a partition.

“Alright young man,” the tailor said, grinning at Tommy, “let’s get you measured first. Stand here please.” He gestured to a small wooden platform raised only a foot above the ground.

Tommy glanced at Wilbur, his tail flicking. Wilbur nodded and gave him a smile. Tommy hopped up onto the platform.

“Hold your arms out like—yes that’s right.” The tailor darted around Tommy, all four of his hands a blur of motion. Wilbur would catch the occasional glint of thread between the man’s hands. Tommy’s false tail stayed curled near his legs.

The arachnid stepped back. “All done! You’re a little short for a demon aren’t you? Are you eating enough?”

Tommy puffed up. “I am not short, thank you very much! I am a big man, and will grow into the biggest man someday, just you wait and see!”

The arachnid nodded along. “Of course. My apologies dear. I’ll be sure to remember.” His black gaze slid to Wilbur. “Well, looks like you’re up next.”

Tommy, still red faced, stepped down from the platform to make room for Wilbur. Wilbur stood the same way Tommy had, arms extended, as the tailor measured his arms, torso, and height. The affair only took a matter of seconds.

The tailor drew back and went to scribble something down in his notebook. “Alright, that should do it. I’ll have the coats ready for you… the day after tomorrow. Come by around noon. And I’ll need the first half of the payment now please.”

Wilbur took out his coin purse and counted out twenty silver pieces. Normal he wouldn’t carry so much money around, but he knew he might be spending more today.

“Thank you!” the arachnid sang, stowing away the money. “See you boys in a couple days.”

Wilbur and Tommy exited the shop, stepping back onto the cobblestone road.

“Does Schlatt have you putting up more flyers today?” Wilbur asked.

“Yep,” Tommy said. “He’s gonna give me five extra copper if I can get it done in less than an hour. He thinks I can’t do it but I’m gonna show him!” Tommy grinned.

Wilbur sighed. “Just be sure to do it right when you’re going fast. The last thing we need is you getting in trouble with the city guard.”

A couple of months ago Tommy had bounced over to Wilbur after his shift and proudly shown him a pouch of copper coins. Tommy recounted that he’d been hired by a bored city guard who had decided to pay Tommy to put up the flyers he’d been assigned. At first Wilbur had argued it was unsafe, but Tommy needed something to do during the day while Wilbur worked, and so long as no one knew he was human, hanging around the city guard might be the safest place for him. Wilbur had reluctantly allowed the work.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Course I’m gonna do it right. What do you think I am? Some kind of amateur?”

Wilbur snorted and they came to a stop at the street corner. “Be home before dark, yeah?”

Tommy elbowed Wilbur. “Yeah, yeah. See you later Wil.” With that Tommy took the road to the left and disappeared into the city crowd.

Wilbur waved as he left, and then continued down the street toward the tavern.

Minutes later, Wilbur pushed open the doors to the tavern’s kitchen. “Charlie, I’m back!”

Charlie looked up from her book. “Hm, good. Did Kenji give you a fair price?” The piglin had recommended the tailor to Wilbur, and had mentioned she’d be sure to speak with Kenji about charging Wilbur fairly.

Wilbur paused on his way across the kitchen. “Uh, forty silver for coats for the both of us?”

Charlie nodded. “Good. Grab yourself a bowl before you get stared. The rush isn’t here yet.” The piglin pointed one of the giant pots steaming on the stove.

Wilbur took a bowl from the stack of clean dishes and headed for the pot. “Thanks Charlie!”

As he passed her the piglin patted his shoulder with her gigantic hand before she lumbered out of the kitchen. Charlie had tried to ruffle his hair once, and sent Wilbur flinching back in panic, terrified that she’d break the illusion on his horns. She’d taken a hard look at the scar across his face and never reached for his head again.

Wilbur had been wary of Charlie for a while. She loomed over him, and scars laced her hands and face, and her tusks were off putting. But Wilbur had come to learn that behind her gruff exterior, she was kind. She’d given Wilbur a job, a place to stay, and regularly gave him food from the kitchen.

As Wilbur ate, the muffled chatter and laugher in the dining room slowly rose as the busy hour approached. By the time Wilbur ate his last bite the kitchen was in full motion, with dishes clattering, cooks hollering, and the barkeep darting in and out.

Wilbur shrugged on his apron and hurried to the dish pit for another busy night.

_ _ _ _ _

Tommy slipped past a ram laughing with her friend and further into the crowded city square. Schlatt usually stayed near the edges of the square, leaned against a wall, but today he wasn’t in his usual spot by the bakery front.

Huffing, Tommy craned his neck to peer through the crowd that towered over him, trying to catch sight of the ram’s armor or curling horns. Finally, after an entire loop of the square, Tommy spotted him in the shadow of the statue at the center of the square.

“Schlatt,” Tommy called as he ran up to the ram guard. Schlatt, who’d been speaking with another guard beside him, turned to look down at Tommy.

“Well,” Schlatt grinned, “there’s the squirt. You’re late kid.”

Tommy glared. “I am not! Besides, you weren’t in the usual spot. It’s not my fault you’re inconsistent.”

Schlatt chuckled. “Inconsistent, huh? Breaking out the big vocabulary. Well, you still want today’s job?” Schlatt withdrew the stack of flyers he’d had tucked under his arm.

Tommy squinted at the ram. “And I get five extra copper if I do it in an hour.”

The ram blinked before he grimaced. “Oh yeah, I did say that didn’t I? Yeah sure kid, why not.”

Schlatt’s companion elbowed him with a chuckle. “Little too much to drink, friend?”

“Ah shut up,” Schlatt said and slapped the hand away.

Grinning, Tommy took the heavy stack of flyers and picked up the can of glue by Schlatt’s feet. “Be back in less than an hour!” Then he darted back into the crowd, Schlatt’s laugh fading behind him.

Tommy sprinted through the town, his false-tail trailing behind him as he plastered the flyers to various walls and posts as fast as he could. He almost glued his hands to his bucket of glue at one point, but he managed to peel it free. He was nearly done, quickly painting more glue onto a brick wall before slapping the flyer down when he paused. He’d been in such a hurry, he hadn’t bothered to look at the papers too closely.

On the flyer, an odd face stared back at him. A human one. Its round ears were exaggerated, and beside it were drawings of hands, free of talons. The human’s brow was furrowed in anger, and its lips were curled into a twisted sneer, revealing crooked, blunt teeth.

With a sinking feeling, Tommy sounded out the letters beneath it.

HUMANS

Stay aware, stay alert

Report any sightings to the city guard

The war is over, but the battle continues

Do your part to keep your city safe

Tommy stared at the words for what felt like a long time. They made the human look so… mean. But Tommy wasn’t like that, and Wilbur wasn’t either. Kendall, Jenny, Kathy, Nick and everyone else he used to live with hadn’t been like that. It left a knot of something dark in his stomach.

Tommy didn’t look at the flyers anymore as he finished posting them.

When he returned to Schlatt, only carrying the bucket of glue and brush, he’d completely forgotten about the hour time limit.

“Well, what do you know?” Schlatt barked a laugh. “Kid’s got some hustle.”

Tommy forced a grin. “What can I say, I’m just built different.”

Schlatt snorted and withdrew a handful of coins from his pocket. “Fifty-five copper as promised. Don’t get used to it though. This is a one-time deal. Keep working hard though and I might be able to hire you for some different work. It would pay better too.”

Tommy accepted the coins, counted them, and shoved them in his pocket. “Different how?”

“Just different. I’ll fill you in more later if need be. Just keep workin’ hard, prove to me you’re reliable, and we can go from there. Now scurry off kid. I’ve got serious guard work to attend to.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Tommy rolled his eyes and drifted away. The only “serious guard work” Tommy had ever seen Schlatt preform was patrolling the bars and taverns.

Tommy left the square in the direction of Charlie’s tavern, passing one of the flyers he’d put up on the way. He glared back at it before stomping down the street, false-tail thrashing.

_ _ _ _ _

Wilbur had his coat on, guitar slung over his shoulder, and was halfway out the tavern door when Charlie called for him.

“Wilbur, wait a minute.”

Wilbur let the door swing shut and turned to see Charlie emerging from the kitchen. “Yes? Do you need me to fill in today?”

The piglin shook her head and leaned past him to push open the tavern door, letting in a cold gust of wind. It wasn’t quite winter yet, but fall was definitely on its way out.

“Hmm,” Charlie let the door swing shut. “why don’t you play in the tavern tonight. Too cold for you to be out there.”

Wilbur started up at her. “I’d be okay. I’ve got the new coat and everything.”

Charlie shook her head. “Just use the corner in the back, kid. You’ll keep warm and probably get better business anyway.” She turned to return to the kitchen.

Wilbur fidgeted by the door, trying to tamp down his excitement. “Thank you!”

Charlie waved over her shoulder before disappearing through the kitchen door. Wilbur grinned and ran back upstairs to shrug off his coat.

That night Wilbur played for the tavern crowd. He stayed warm and was tipped well by the patrons. At one point the crowd had started clapping along with his song and dancing, Tommy among them, singing along. By the time the tavern closed Wilbur’s face hurt from how much he’d been smiling.

_ _ _ _ _

A few nights after Wilbur played in the tavern for the first time, he was on dish duty again. They were about halfway through the dinner rush when Charlie poked her head into the dish pit.

“Hey kid,” she said, “Stella had to go home for the night. She wasn’t feeling well. How do you feel about bussing tables for the rest of the night?”

Wilbur set down the plate he’d been scrubbing. “Um. That’s just clearing off the dirty tables, right? I think I can do that.”

Charlie nodded. “Just do your best and that’ll be enough. Go grab an apron and head out there.”

Wilbur finished rinsing the last dish before he left the dish pit. On his way out of the kitchen, he grabbed an apron, a cloth,  and picked up the dish bin one of the barkeeps pointed him to.

The dining room bustled with activity. The people at the bar laughed and hollered at each other over the din, while the guests at the table chatted animatedly, filling the room with the hum of voices and clatter of dishware. Every so often a table would erupt into hoots and hollers.

Wilbur spotted an abandoned table, still cluttered with dishes and glasses, and made his way over. He piled the dirty dishes into his bin, wiped down the table, and returned to the dish pit to stack the dishes. Wilbur started a cycle of cleaning several tables, pausing to do some dishes, and then returning to bussing.

It wasn’t as difficult as Wilbur had feared it might be. The hardest part was weaving between the tavern guests, who were often much taller than him, and a bit drunk.

But when Wilbur was returning to the kitchen, bin full of dishes, one of the tavern guest laughed loudly and stumbled back, slamming into Wilbur and knocking him to the ground.

Wilbur lost his grip on the bin on his way down, sending the dishes and glasses crashing onto the floor and shattering into hundreds of pieces. When Wilbur landed an instant later, he caught his fall on a pile of glass shards.

“Ah,” Wilbur scrambled off the glass, but couldn’t help the cry of pain as a shard of glass sliced open his skin. He looked down at his palm, and saw a few shallow cuts across it, but one was deep and dripping blood down his wrist. He pressed his other hand against the wound.

“Here kid, let me help.” Someone knelt beside him and held out one of the tavern’s cloth napkins. Wilbur looked up from the hand to see a reptilian man, eyeing him with concern. The man’s scales were dull with age, and in some places warped from old scars. His eyes, yellow and slitted, were creased with concern.

“Thanks,” Wilbur took the napkin and pressed it to the cut.

“Sure. Just keep the pressure on and—” Wilbur looked up when the man stopped talking. The concerned expression he’d worn a moment ago had changed into something more puzzled as his eyes swept over Wilbur. The reptilian’s nostrils flared and he blinked. “Actually, that looks worse than I thought. Come on.”

The reptilian extended a hand. “Let’s see if your boss has a first aid kit in the back.” A faint sense of unease crept up Wilbur’s spine, but when he searched the man’s gaze, he only found concern.

“That’s okay thank you. I’m alright.”

“No, let see if your boss has anything for it.” The reptilian put a hand under Wilbur’s elbow and helped him rise, before shifting his hand to Wilbur’s back and guiding him toward the kitchen doors. The barkeep flashed the man a confused look, but after seeing Wilbur, and the blood running from his hand, waved him in.

Goosebumps ran up Wilbur’s neck, emanating from where the reptilian pressed his hand against his back. The man’s height and proximity put him on edge, but he was just a concerned passerby. He’d be with Charlie and away from him in a moment anyway.

“Where’s your boss?” the reptilian asked one of the cooks. “Your busser kid cut himself pretty good.”

“Try the back,” one of the cooks yelled over the clatter of the kitchen, waving a spoon toward the storage room at the back of the tavern.

Hand still pushing him gently along, the reptilian guided him away from the chaos of the kitchen and to the relatively quiet storage area. When Wilbur caught sight of Charlie, tallying the supplies, he a wave of relief hit him and he darted forward.

Wilbur half expected a hand to pull him back, but the reptilian let him go.

Charlie turned, and when she caught sight of Wilbur’s injury and the stranger behind him, she scowled. “What’s going on here?” She knelt as Wilbur approached, taking his hand gently into her giant ones. She turned his hand palm up and frowned at the deep cut.

The reptilian approached. “Kid took a tumble when one of the guys at the bar got a bit too pushy. He landed on some glass so I decided to help him back here. Figured you might have a bandage or something.”

Wilbur noticed that as the man spoke, his eyes didn’t leave Wilbur. The concerned expression he’d worn before was gone—replaced by something more calculating. Anxiety settled in Wilbur’s stomach and he wished the man would leave. Wilbur was probably over thinking it, but it seemed like the man was acting odd.

“I do,” Charlie said, her gaze darting from the man to Wilbur. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course, but I think he got cut here too,” the reptilian said, frowning. He leaned closer, now within arm’s reach of Wilbur, and Wilbur leaned closer to Charlie.

“Here,” the reptilian said. His hand darted out, and before Wilbur could react, the reptilian had closed his hand around Wilbur’s false ear and squeezed. The illusion gave way, and suddenly the man had a hold of Wilbur’s real, human, ear.

Charlie, who’d lurched forward with a warning, “Hey!” now froze, her gaze locked on Wilbur’s ear.

“Thought so,” the reptilian grunted, all warmth and concern gone from his demeanor. “Human blood’s pretty recognizable once you’ve smelled it enough. This one’s parents must have found a witch to enchant it.”

Wilbur, who’d been frozen the moment the reptilian grabbed him, reached up to pull the man’s hand off him. “Let me go!” But the reptilian’s grip tightened and he ran his free hand through Wilbur’s hair and over Wilbur’s false horns, breaking that illusion too.

Wibur’s heart hammered in his chest and he twisted against the reptilian’s cold grip. “Stop it! Let go!” He pushed against the man but he stood immobile. “Charlie!” he gasped, his gaze darting back to the piglin. Surely she’d help him.

Charlie, who still knelt at Wilbur’s side, stared at him with a blank gaze. At Wilbur’s cry, she barely flinched.

Tears pricked at Wilbur’s eyes. “Charlie—make him let me go. Please!”

“How long has it been working here?” the reptilian asked. “I know it looks like a scared kid but they’re tricksters. Its playing on your sympathy.”

“No! No, I’m not!” Wilbur hit he hand holding him, and it shifted from gripping his ear to fisting in his hair, tugging painfully at the roots and straining Wilbur’s neck.

Charlie’s gaze focused on him again, but her expression was cold. “Human’s burned my son alive during the war. I know their kind.” She rose to tower over him as Wilbur’s heart plummeted. All warmth had left her eyes, and she started down at him with something cold and angry.

“I’ll get the guard,” she said to the reptilian.

“No!” Wilbur cried. “No don’t! Charlie—” Wilbur was cut off as the reptilian shook him.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “And Charlie, is it? Don’t go calling the guard just yet.”

Charlie’s lip curled. “And why wouldn’t I?”

Wilbur couldn’t see the man’s face from this angle, but he could hear the smug tone in his voice. “I’ll take it off your hands quietly. After all, best if no one knew a dirty human had been working in your tavern, hm? I’ll need to stash it in your closet while I get a few things.”

Tears ran down Wilbur’s cheeks and he pried at the cold hand clenched in his hair. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if the man took him. He could just want to go to the guard and collect the reward himself, but he could want something worse. Wilbur hoped with everything he had that Charlie wouldn’t remember Tommy upstairs, or would at least hide him from this man, or that maybe Charlie would remember that he was still Wilbur. That he was still the kid she’d come to know. That she’d pulled the man off him and help him.

But Charlie snorted and glared at the man. “Not just doing your civic duty huh? There’s probably another one upstairs. I’ll go get it. Put that one in the back closet with the lock. Then get them, and yourself, out of my tavern.”

“Not Tomm—” The reptilian’s free hand covered his mouth and sealed off Wilbur’s scream. Wilbur tried to bite, but the scales protected the man. As the reptilian dragged Wilbur towards the closet, kicking and clawing uselessly at his hands, Wilbur watched as Charlie turned to leave the kitchen, headed to get his little brother and bring him down to this man.

The reptilian dragged him to the closet door and paused. He pulled Wilbur close and leaned down to hiss into his ear. “You make a sound and I’ll make sure you can’t, understand?”

Wilbur shuddered. He wanted to fight and scream until he went hoarse and exhausted, but he knew he’d be no help to Tommy if he was choked unconscious. He sobbed behind the hand wrapped around his mouth and nodded as best he could.

The hand on his mouth vanished as the reptilian opened the closet. The dark room beyond was a tiny space, with a shelf in the back full of spare cloths and pans, and a broom in the corner. As soon as the door swung fully open, the man tossed Wilbur inside. Wilbur stumbled to lean against the shelf and the door slammed shut, sealing him in the dark with a click.

Wilbur waited until he hear the reptilian’s clawed feet clicking against the tile as he walked away before Wilbur darted to the knob. The knob remained unmoving as Wilbur rattled and pushed at it. He didn’t have enough time. Charlie was probably already at their room, knocking on the door where Tommy waited, unsuspecting.

Wilbur abandoned the knob and instead turned to the shelf behind him. There had to be something here he could use. The sliver of orange light under the door was all he had to see by, and his eyes were still adjusting, but Wilbur could make out yellowed light glinting off of pots, and the shape of bins on some of the shelves.

With shaking hands Wilbur pushed aside pans and pots, but all he could find was more old kitchen ware and a bin of silverware. Wilbur didn’t want to rise making noise, but he started to consider smashing the knob with one of the pots when he heard hooves against the tiles outside.

Tommy’s muffled voice drifted through the door. “Where’s Wilbur?”

Wilbur took a deep breath and yelled. “Run Tommy! Run now!”

A muffled gasp, more hooves on tile, and the lock clicked a split second before the door swung open. Charlie stood in the doorway, towing Tommy along beside her by the back of his shirt. Upon seeing Wilbur, confusion washed over Tommy’s face.

Wilbur surged forward, grabbed the piglin’s arm and tried to pull Tommy from her grip. Unflinching, Charlie used her free hand to grab Wilbur by the shirt and hurl him back into the closet. He collided with the shelf, his head bouncing off one of the pots and he fell to the floor.

“Wilbur!” Tommy cried, lunging forward. Charlie let go and Tommy ran to Wilbur’s side. The door slammed shut behind him and the lock clicked into place.

Clutching the back of his head, Wilbur sat up.

Tommy grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?” Tommy asked. “I’m sorry Charlie grabbed my tail and—I’m sorry!” Wilbur couldn’t see his brother’s face in the dark, but he could hear the wobbly edge it held.

“It’s not your fault Tommy,” Wilbur said, pushing aside the pain pulsing at the back of his skull. “And I’m okay. They found me out and then got you. Wasn’t your fault. But we need to get out of here. Help me find something we can use.”

Wilbur started pushing the bins on the shelf aside, hoping he’d missed something before. In the dark beside him, Tommy shifting through the pots and then clattered through the bin of silverware.

Wilbur strained his ears in the silence between their clatter, searching for the sound of approaching hooves or claws. He wasn’t sure how much time they had before the reptilian came for them.

It only felt like a few moments had past when Wilbur heard the clicking of talons against the tile outside the door. Wilbur darted over to Tommy, pushed him into the furthest corner, and faced the door.

Tommy grabbed Wilbur’s arm, “Wil I—”

“Shush,” Wilbur said.

The door clicked and swung open.

Chapter Text

The door swung open and Wilbur blinked against the sudden wave of light. Two figures filled the doorway, framed in light.

Wilbur’s eyes adjusted and he recognized the reptilian that had discovered him, as well as a ram beside him. The reptilian’s eyes swept over them before moving back and allowing the ram to step closer.

The ram, pipe in hand, stared down at Wilbur and blew out a cloud of smoke. The man’s horns curled to their tips by his cheekbones, and were set in a nest of dark hair. The stink of alcohol wafted from him. “Hmm. You sure that’s a human? Gonna be a pretty big fuck up if you’re wrong.”

Behind him, Tommy made a confused sort of mutter, but Wilbur pushed him farther into the corner with a whispered, “hush.”

“It is,” the reptilian said. “The illusion doesn’t have an physical properties to it. The horns and ears vanish if you grab them.”

“And you checked the other one?” The ram asked.

“Uh, not personally, but—”

“Fucking idiot,” the ram sighed and reached for Wilbur. “Move over kid.”

Wilbur slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch him.”

The ram sighed. “Listen, you can’t stop me. Can we at least make this quick?”

“Schlatt,” Tommy said, pushing Wilbur aside.

Wilbur tried to push Tommy behind him again before his words registered and he hesitated, hands on Tommy’s shoulders. “Schlatt?”

The ram, Schlatt, stared at Tommy with wide eyes for a heartbeat. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “Tommy? Well, shit kid if this isn’t ironic. You’re really a human?”

Tommy glowered at the ram. “Yeah. You gonna be a bitch about it?”

Schlatt snorted, but his expression didn’t shift.

Wilbur eyes flicked to the room beyond Schlatt’s figure. He couldn’t make out much of the back room, but he couldn’t see any other guards with Schlatt, unless the reptilian was one. And now that Wilbur was looking, Schlatt wore a simple black tunic, not the armor of the guard.

Schlatt drew from his pipe, his stare locked on him and Tommy. Wilbur realized the man was considering his next move. Something about Tommy had changed the man’s plans. Maybe Wilbur could capitalize on that.

“Schlatt,” Wilbur said, trying to force his voice into something mature sounding, “you’re the guard who’s been hiring Tommy, yes?”

“I have,” Schlatt said, expression still unreadable.

“So,” Wilbur swallowed, “so you understand that we’re not—Tommy and I aren’t animals. We’re not bad people. We’re just trying to survive in the city. So there’s no harm in letting us go, yes? I promise we’ll leave the city, if that’s what you want. We’ll pretend like we’ve never met you.” As he spoke Wilbur shifted to stand between Tommy and the ram.

Schlatt exhaled a cloud of smoke. It swirled past his horns and glowed in the light from the doorway. “Well kid, that wasn’t a bad pitch, for someone your age.” Schlatt withdrew a handkerchief and smothered the end of his pipe with it, before handing them off to the reptilian.

“But,” Schlatt took a step closer, Wilbur tensed, and the ram crouched so they were face to face, “I’m not someone who believes the propaganda in the first place, or who cares about any greater good bullshit.”

Wilbur resisted the urge to back up. “So what do you want then?”

Schlatt clasped his hands together and let them hang between his knees. “Well, I’m a simple guy. I want what most people do: money. And the convenient thing about this whole human eradication the crown has going on; humans are becoming pretty rare. And like all rare things, there is a lucrative market for you guys.” Schlatt grinned. “There’s all sort of uses for humans after all. You’re handy for basic labor, your blood contains some rare chemical or something, and a few other things. So that is where your argument falls flat. You’re trying to appeal to me based on the idea that my priority is the safety of the city and that I believe propaganda. Now, try instead appealing to me now that I’ve explained my real motives to you.”

Wilbur’s heart had plummeted as Schlatt spoke. The whole time, the man had worn a little smirk, like he found this whole thing slightly amusing. Wilbur’s thoughts spun, trying to come up with a way to negotiate with him.

Tommy curled his hand in the fabric of Wilbur’s shirt and glared daggers at Schlatt. “You’re a fucking prick.”

“Besides the point kid.” Schlatt said.

“We have money,” Wilbur said. “Let us go and—and I’ll write down where it is as we leave, and leave the note for you to find.”

Schlatt’s eyebrows rose. “Well it’s something. But you won’t have enough money to cover the money you and your brother might sell for. Besides, I can guess it’s in the room you’ve stayed in upstairs.”

Wilbur stared into Schlatt’s eyes. Schlatt wanted money, but they didn’t have it. What else was there? The silence had gone on too long, and Wilbur felt his throat closing up.

“I could steal it,” Wilbur said, voice hoarse. He knew it was a dumb idea but he needed more time to think.

Schlatt snorted. “No, you can’t.”

Wilbur couldn’t think of anything else. There wasn’t anything he could say, threaten, or give to make Schlatt leave them alone. Wilbur’s heartbeat filled his ears.

Schatt nodded. “See, there’s nothing you can do to change the fact that you are worth more to me being sold. Which means you will be.” Schlatt leaned forward, and this time Wilbur did step back, pushing Tommy with him. “But this is where you can change something.”

“What do you mean?” Wilbur’s voice came out quiet.

“There are a bunch of types who want to buy humans,” Schlatt said. “Some, in the neighboring countries, use them as pets and for shows, zoos, circuses, that sort of thing. There are some who want the cheap labor or to farm your blood for profit.” Schlatt’s smile vanished. “Some of them need research subjects. And some, the carnivorous kind, consider humans a delicacy.”

Ice ran up Wilbur’s spine and he felt the blood drain from his face. Mute, he shook his head.

“Didn’t think you’d like those options,” Schlatt said. “But I have to say, Tommy’s grown on me, and you’ve made a good impression kid.” He reach out and ruffled Wilbur’s hair, breaking the illusion of his horns as he did. “So here’s where we really start to negotiate. Now, you don’t have money, but there is another way you can help me get it, indirectly. And since I like you, if you do, I can make sure you and your brother go to a nice home where you’ll be treated as pets. Not a perfect life, but you’ll be together and thats much better than the other options, don’t you think?”

Wilbur blinked back the sparks in the corners of his eyes. “What do you want?”

Schlatt leaned forward. “I want you to tell me the name, and location, of the witch that gave you those illusions.”

Wilbur’s mind flashed to the memory of Karl. They were miles away from the town the witch lived in, and Wilbur wasn’t sure he even remembered the name of it. Besides, he wasn’t eager to rat out Karl. Wilbur wasn’t sure what Schlatt wanted with the witch, but he doubted it was good.

Schlatt must have seen the hesitation on his face because he sighed. “Come on kid, I’m not gonna kill the witch. Just gonna talk to ‘em, I promise. All you have to do is tell me who and where, and you and your brother will go together to a better buyer, you have my word. And I keep my word, right Tommy?” He winked at the boy hiding behind Wilbur.

Tommy glared back. “He did give me the extra copper.”

Wilbur’s thoughts spun. He could tell Schlatt about Karl as best he could, and hope he kept his word. If he did, there would be later chances for he and Tommy to escape. Or, he could try to be clever and risk everything. The start of a plan formed in his head.

“I don’t know the address,” Wilbur said, purposely letting some of his panic show. He needed Schlatt to believe he wanted to give the man the information. “I—I don’t know her name either.”

Schlatt regarded him coldly. “That’s a problem kid. What do you know?”

“She lives in the city,” Wilbur said, throwing it out like a desperate offer. “I remember how to get to her shop. I can lead you there.”

Schlatt’s expression didn’t change. “That’s not a lot kid.”

“Please,” Wilbur said, letting his voice crack, “I can take you there right now I promise. I just—I—I can’t remember the street name but I know the place if—”

“Alright,” Schlatt waved away the rest of Wilbur’s plea. “As I said, I like you kid, so we can work something out.” Schlatt pointed a taloned finger at Wilbur’s face. “But here’s the deal: we go there right now, you point me to the right shop, and then you and Tommy come with us nice and quiet to where you’re gonna spend a few days. No one gets hurt, so long as you two keep to the agreement. Try anything and the deal is off permanently. Do you understand?”

Wilbur extended a hand, proud when it was steady. “Deal.”

Schlatt grinned and took gave his hand a firm shake. “Deal.” With a groan Schlatt pushed himself to his feet. “Alright. Let’s get this done and over with. Wilbur, right? You’ll be walking with Simon.” Schlatt nodded to the reptilian behind him. “And my friend Tommy is gonna be with me. Now let get a move on.”

Wilbur hesitated to move away from the corner and expose Tommy, but he knew they needed to leave the closet to get out of this. So he nodded and turned to face Tommy.

Wilbur whispered as quietly as he could. “We have to cooperate, okay?”

Tommy glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t wanna.”

“I know,” Wilbur said. “I don’t want to either, but we need to if we have a chance.”

Tommy dropped his glare to the ground, and reached into his pocket. “But I—”

“Let’s go kid,” Schlatt interrupted. “We don’t have all night.”

Wilbur grimaced. “Come on.” He took the hand Tommy hadn’t tucked into his pocket and together they walked out of the closet.

Schlatt extended a hand to Tommy, eyebrows raised. Tommy glared at the man, but slowly released Wilbur’s hand and accepted Shlatt’s. “You’re a fucking bitch.”

A heavy hand settled on Wilbur’s shoulder, and he looked up to see the reptilian staring down at him. “We’ll head out the back.” The reptilian steered Wilbur through the storage area and out into the alley behind the tavern.

The black void of the new moon hung above them, and Wilbur’s breath ghosted the air before him. The street lamps at the end of the alley cast little light on the darkened city.

“Lead on kid,” Schlatt said. Wilbur case a look back to see Schlatt and Tommy hand in hand—Schlatt regarded him with an expectant smile, while Tommy stared back with steel gaze.

Wilbur turned left down the alley and felt the false confidence he’d scraped together for the last few minutes slip through his fingers.

The clock was ticking again, and Wilbur didn’t have a specific plan beyond this point. He had hoped that he and Tommy would find the chance to bolt, or call for help and use the resulting confusion to escape. But now that Schlatt had Tommy, and the reptilian had Wilbur, they wouldn’t be able to make a break for it together.

They reached the street and Wilbur made the choice to head for the tailor’s shop, for the reason that it was a fair distance away, and it was a destination he could walk towards without much thought.

The reptilian’s grip on his shoulder was strong enough that it would slow him if he tried to pull free, but light enough that it wouldn’t look strange to a passerby. As they passed a Avian woman, Wilbur watched her. She glanced at them, then continued on her way, unconcerned.

Maybe if Wilbur waited for the right moment, he could start screaming. If he yelled that these men weren’t his parents, surely they could buy enough time to get away. The crowd would pull Tommy and Wilbur away from them and summon the guard, and then they could slip away.

But that plan required a crowd, and for the guards to be a fair bit away, because as soon as Schlatt thought that Tommy and Wilbur might get away, Wilbur was certain he’d out them as spelled humans. And then all it would take would be a quick tap of his horns and they’d be in a new kind of danger.

It could be a last resort. It would give them a chance to get away, but it would still be a very dangerous gamble.

Wilbur eyed the darkened alleys they past. They might have been able to use the dark to their advantage, but reptilians had night vision, which ruined that idea.

They reached one of the city’s main roads and turned onto it. A few groups of people drifted between the taverns, most of them laughing and chattering as they drifted between the taverns, none of them paying any attention to the odd group passing by them.

It felt like only seconds had passed, but they were more than halfway to the shop and Wilbur still didn’t have a plan. And Schlatt was a city guard. If Wilbur started leading them in circles to buy time the man would notice almost instantly.

Wilbur turned them down a side street. There was only two more blocks between them and the shop, at which point Wilbur would have to come up with a new idea or start leading them further into the city for as long as he could.

He could pick a random shop and hope that Schlatt didn’t know the owner. But the simplest of checks would reveal some ram or avian owned the place, and then Schlatt would know Wilbur had lied, unless Wilbur got very lucky and just randomly picked a shop owned by a witch.

They passed the tailor’s shop without pausing, and the hand on Wilbur’s shoulder felt even heavier. His time was almost up.

Wilbur picked to turn right at the end of the street, and found the road was a narrow cobblestone road between the cluttered line of shopfronts. And the last person they’d seen was blocks ago.

“Stop,” Schlatt said, and Wilbur’s heart plummeted.

The reptilian pulled Wilbur to a stop and turned him to face Schlatt. The ram glared down at Wilbur, Tommy’s hand still held tightly in his. Tommy’s eyes darted between Wilbur and Schlatt, a furrow between his brows.

“Where are we going kid?” Schlatt asked.

“The witch’s shop,” Wilbur said.

Schlatt’s eyes narrowed. “What directions is it, and how much further?”

Wilbur scrambled for an answer. “Um its down the street and uh a few streets north I think. I’m trying to remember.”

Schlatt rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m disappointed kid. There isn’t a shopping district that way. It’s all residential.” Schlatt’s gaze rose to the reptilian. “He’s stalling us. Knock him out.” Schlatt reached for Tommy.

“Wait—” Wilbur tried to throw himself away from the hand reaching for his neck, but the grip on his shoulder held him in place. The reptilian leaned down and his hand just brushed Wilbur’s neck.

“Fuck!” Schlatt yelled.

Wilbur and the reptilian froze, their eyes locked on Schlatt. Schlatt clutched the side of his leg, blood trickling down his thigh. Tommy ran toward Wilbur, a knife flashing in his hand.

Wilbur spun, raise his hand, and jabbed his fingers into the reptilian’s eye. The reptilian snarled, recoiling from Wilbur and loosening his grip.

Tommy grabbed Wilbur, and together they pulled away from the reptilian, Wilbur’s jacket tearing in his talons, and ran.

“Get them!” Schlatt snarled.

The click of claws on cobblestone rose behind them.

“This way,” Tommy gasped and ducked right. Wilbur had missed it in the dark, but there was a space between two of the shops, only a couple feet wide and full of garbage. They scrambled over the horse manure and rubbish just as the reptilian caught up with them.

The reptilian slammed against the wall and reached for them, but he was too big to fit and Wilbur was already out of reach. He snarled and glared as Tommy and Wilbur ran further in. The odd crawlspace ended in a brick wall about twenty feet in, but Wilbur caught sight of a gutter on the far wall.

“Climb up, quick,” he said.

Tommy shoved his knife back in his boot. Wilbur had a moment to wonder where he’d gotten it before they were climbing.

By the time they reached the roof they were gasping and sweating, but they didn’t stop. They darted across the tile shingles and away from the shopping district. The buildings were so crammed together, they could run for blocks before they’d have to descend to the streets.

“We need to leave the city,” Wilbur forced out between breaths.

“West gate,” Tommy replied, pointing to their right. “Closest.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of mutter directions and the patter of footfalls. When they reached the west gate, they slowed to a quick walk, Wilbur leading them past the few people that lingered in the area. Torches crackled in their holders as they passed through the gate.

They were a few feet away when one of the guards called out. “Hey kids, where are you going?”

Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s hand and they ran.

“Hey!”

They darted into the sea of trees and the light of the town soon vanished behind them. If the guard had followed, they hadn’t run fast enough to catch up to them.

The forest closed around them, familiar and safe, and they slowed.

Wilbur braced his hands on his knees and panted. “When did you get a knife?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, his breath steaming in the night air. “Found it under the shelf in the closet. Right before they came back.”

Wilbur nodded. “You did good.”

Tommy glared at the ground. “Schlatt’s a fuckin’ bitch.”

“Yeah,” Wilbur breathed. He thought of Charlie, and how she’d hated them so quickly, so easily, after she learned they were human, and a deep sadness pulled at his heart. But he pushed it aside and focused instead on the anger that burned in him too. The fire of the fury at the unfairness of it was more bearable than the pain.

“We lost everything,” Tommy said. He glared at the ground, but his lip trembled.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur said. “I’ve got some coins in my pocket, we have shoes and coats. It’ll be hard, but it won’t be as hard as last time.” He smiled. “It’s just another camping trip.”

Tommy snorted, but he managed a smirk. “I’m tired of camping trips.”

“This’ll be the last one then.”

They left Krane City behind. As they weaved through the trees, Wilbur decided that he’d learned from this lesson. They’d drift from now on. Staying in one place for too long would be a bad idea. They’d wander and have each other, and Wilbur would make sure no one ever found out they were human again.

They continued on through the woods.