--XL--
Ugh. Such intelligence, such acumen, such genius- amazing dialogue choice, right? Do you speak WORDS. Why I spoke at all, I'll never know. I started doing these small little hops backward, on one leg. I swung both my arms and threw another backwards handspring, onto one leg. My head and chest were only just rising back into the standing position- when I heard a voice speak.
"He won't speak to you, Midnight."
MONDAY
8:49 AM
Northwest of Windcreek
I snapped to an upright position, my head looking forward and my eyes scanning the Talon man's face.
Who just spoke?
I looked around- no one, no one I could see at least.
No one I could see, at least.
My voice was almost that of a dying person's. At least to me, it's what it sounded like.
"Connor?" I said, choked up, mewling like a wounded animal.
A snowflake, emerald and turquoise, landed in my eye and I had to blink it away.
The somewhat raspy, sleepy, Southern voice spoke again.
"Bless yer heart, Christopher-"
Connor.
"Yes, yes, thank you," I responded, interrupting him. I took a breath. "Can you lecture me later?"
"Ain't no lecturing someone who flies away each time you talk to him," said Connor.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Aimlessly, sloppily, I wiped blood off my nose and mouth; I examined the blood running down my calf. A wave of what seemed almost like diagonal, invisible gravity pushed me sideways; dizzy was an understatement for whatever it was I was feeling. Though the adrenaline running through me was enough to engage in one more fight, or maybe even a few- the burning fire inside my hands and feet told me so.
"I'll stay just for you," I said. "Just this time."
We heard what sounded like the snapping of a tree.
"Chris, what was that?" Kaylee's voice, telepathically.
"I'm alive and we have Connor," I said, both aloud and telepathically; heard by Connor and anyone connected to the telepath binding- including Kaylee and anyone else that cared.
"You'll excuse me," said Connor. He manifested like a ghost in a horror movie- from out of nowhere- right in front of me, his back to me and facing the Talon.
"I dunno, Kayles," I replied. I sidestepped left to perform a spin, and throw hands at an airborne Talon which judging by its trajectory had aimed for Connor. As I twisted in the air, my left palm and right fist both made contact with the Talon's upper body- their shoulder and their solar plexus. It cried out as both its wings fluttered and we both crashed into the ground. It started squawking, loudly, as I ignored the pain in my body- and twisted my way back to Connor, spinning back in one calculated arc of air. "I don't know that it matters- where are you?!"
"Silence, please!" Connor yelled, at both me and Kaylee. His thick accent particularly affected the word please. He composed himself enough to start making this strange, cawing noise; a cawing, combined with an unusual- yet also utterly amazing- series of rattles and coos and clicking intonations. The sounds were so incongruous, so alien as to be almost frightening, to me at least. I started thinking that possibly I'd run away, if I was the only one still there. I listened to more low, gurgling croaks, in combination with these harsh, grating vocalizations- a cacophony so irregular, and one that I wasn't sure how many people were capable of making, or even imitating. I stood there unmoving, as Connor's neon blue, semi-invisible, twiggy and long whiskers swayed in the wind, swayed with the snow.
Connor Meadows: He hated almost all animals, but could communicate with most of them if he chose to.
The Talon man spoke back, in this uproar, in this dissonance of a language that I could only hope to ever master.
Not that I really wanted to.
Kaylee- breathless and wheezing, a bow and her arrowvines, poison anthurium bombs and tangleweed shells in all her fingers- materialized from behind us and stopped in her tracks a foot from where I stood. Her long brown hair fell in flawless waves over her right shoulder, her orange top soaked entirely in the green snow, and also probably with sweat. She crouched down to put her hands near the mutated shard of wood- not near enough to touch but near enough to manipulate. I didn't look down to see how exactly she was fixing the problem; I trusted her, and my heightened situational awareness was needed elsewhere.
"Chris," said Connor cautiously- his tone only a slightly lower version of the rasping treble which was his normal voice- "no sudden movements."
"No shit, Connor."
"What do they want?" whispered Kaylee.
"He said," Connor hesitated, before saying, "that they recognize you."