Book 3: Chapter 45
Book 3: Chapter 45
Tafel brought her hand close to her forehead and evaporated the sweat on her brow. She splayed her fingers out in front of her face and exhaled. “That’s pretty convenient,” she said and nodded.
“Why do you sweat?” Alora asked, munching on a rectangular piece of wood. Her teeth left indents on its surface and stripped away splinters that she spat out of her mouth. “You’re a phoenix, right? Those dumb birds shouldn’t sweat. Things only sweat when they become overheated like staying in a pool of lava for a few hours after Mom told you to get out—which I’ve totally never done by the way. Don’t phoenixes have a better way of cooling off?”
Tafel lowered her hand and blinked at Alora. “You’re right,” she said, her eyes widening. “You’re smart sometimes.”
“That’s right,” Alora said and nodded. She bit on the block of wood and froze. Her eyes narrowed. “Hey. What do you mean by sometimes? I’m smart all the time.”
“I mean, you’re eating a block of wood,” Tafel said, raising an eyebrow. “It can be hard to take you seriously.”
“I’m not eating it, you dumb bird,” Alora said and snorted. “I’m teething.”
Tafel stared at Alora and nodded. “I see.” She turned away and stared at the staff in her hand. “An innate ability to prevent sweating. Maybe I’ll learn it after awakening. Ah, I wish Emile or Susan were here, then I could just ask them. I wonder what happened to them anyway?”
***
The scenery blurred as Mary traversed through a forest at inhuman speeds. She was walking, but the floor seemed to be shrinking underneath her feet as she walked. Every time she took a step, her pale face became a little paler until her thin blue veins could be seen through her skin. When her vision faded in and out, gray lining its edges, she took in a deep breath and sat down on the nearest object that looked like it could be sat on without having to bend her knees too far.
Mary scanned her surroundings. After confirming nothing was around, she crouched down and fell onto all fours, bending her legs and elbows, hiding her arms and legs underneath her stomach. The rune on her forehead glowed as a turtle-shaped aura enveloped her. A translucent snake sprang out of the aura and coiled on top of the turtle’s shell, its tongue flickering in and out as it kept an eye out. Mary closed her eyes and exhaled, her heartbeat dropping to once every five seconds.
Fifteen minutes later, Mary’s eyes shot open. The snake retreated back into the shell, and the black aura melted away, sinking back into the cracks in Mary’s armor. She climbed to her feet, her face flush with blood. Her arms reached towards the sky as she stretched, and she tilted her head up towards the sky before taking in a deep breath. A familiar scent tickled her nose, causing her brow to wrinkle. “Tafel?”
In a nearby tree, two phoenixes were crouching in the branches, hiding behind some leaves as they stared at a weird lady that had turned into a turtle with a snake tail and back again. “What do you think that is?” one of the phoenixes whispered. “I like her hair color. Tafel has a thing for taking redheaded people’s hair, right? Let’s steal some.”
“We shouldn’t do that, Emile,” Susan whispered back. “Poor Percy was crying for hours after Tafel took her hair. I don’t want to ruin a stranger’s day.”
“Just a stranger’s day?” Emile asked. “Then if we become friends with her, you’ll do it?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Susan said, glaring at her brother, whose beak was contorted into a stupid grin. “You—”
“Sshh!” Emile said and stuffed Susan’s beak with his wing. “I think she noticed us.” He grabbed some nearby flowers that were growing on some vines and stuck them into Susan’s feathers with his talons. Then he put some on himself. “Emergency camouflage.”
Susan trembled as Mary approached the tree. She crouched down even further, deflating her body until she was as flat as a pancake. “I don’t think this is going to work,” she whispered to Emile, who was doing the same. “She’s letting off a scary aura.”
“Don’t worry,” Emile whispered back. “Snakes have trouble seeing their prey if they aren’t moving.”
“Why did you label us as prey?” Susan hissed.
“Shush!”
Mary frowned and brought her face close to the tree trunk. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Her frown deepened as she crossed her arms over her chest. She grabbed onto the tree with her arms and pulled herself up, hugging the trunk like a koala would. Her nose twitched as she sniffed the air again. Tiny tremors ran through the tree as she shinnied up the trunk, inhaling the familiar scent with every motion. She stretched her neck out to the side and sniffed, her eyes still closed.
Emile and Susan stared at each other with wide eyes. The strange lady’s face was hovering right over their heads, sniffing them. Susan’s feathers were swaying from the small movements in the air from the Mary’s inhalations. As Mary’s nose got closer and closer, Susan’s heart beat faster and faster. Right when Mary’s nose was about to touch her body, Susan hiccoughed, causing Mary’s eyes to shoot open.
“Flee!” Emile shouted as he smacked Mary in the face. He meant to knock her off with that blow, but it felt like he had hit a steel wall instead. He leapt backwards at the same time as Susan and spread his wings, twisting in midair and flying up towards the sky. He heard Susan’s wings beating underneath him followed by a short yelp.
“Emile! Help! Lookout!”
Emile’s eyes bulged as cold metal made contact with his foot. A moment later, he squawked as his upwards moment was stopped, his body plunging towards the ground. He struggled to kick off the armored hand wrapped around his leg before remembering he could turn portions of his body into flames. But somehow, despite his legs being made of fire, the vicelike grip wouldn’t let go.
“Caught you,” Mary said as she landed on the ground, one phoenix in either hand. She brought the upside-down Emile to her face and buried her nose into his stomach, taking in a deep sniff while ignoring the flames he spewed at her. She withdrew her head and frowned. “Why do you two smell like Tafel?”
Emile stopped struggling and tilted his head. “Like Tafel? You know her?”
Mary blinked. “Yes. Do you know her?”
“That depends,” Emile said, rubbing the underside of his lower beak with the tip of his wing. “Do you like Tafel or hate her?”
“She’s my friend.”
“Oh! In that case, we know her,” Emile said, bobbing his head up and down. He waved. “Hi, friend.”
Mary frowned. “The friend of my friend isn’t necessarily a friend,” she said. “Do you taste delicious?”
“Nope,” Emile said, shaking his head back and forth underneath Mary’s glare. “We taste like burnt toenails; you definitely don’t want to eat us.”
Mary’s frown deepened before her face relaxed as she sighed. “Maybe we can be friends since you’re not food.”