Shot in the Dark (Revised) || Twenty-One

    It was unclear how much time had passed before Jon let them out again. Long enough that she had counted every loose thread on the inner seam of his breast pocket. Twice.

    Her hopes soared when she heard him unlock a door of his own, then sank again when he didn't reach for his pocket. Really, the coast had to be clear at some point, didn't it?

    "I hate hospitals,” Jon muttered distantly.

    Hazel stiffened as the remark resonated through her. Though he had spoken, she got the feeling it wasn’t directly aimed at her. Jon continued to lumber around on a path of his own invention. Swallowing nervously, she craned her neck up towards the pocket’s lip. Surely he hadn’t forgotten them?

    Her worry was put to rest as his tremendous gait came to a halt somewhere on softer ground. Second later, the pocket flap was plucked up, flooding much-desired light into the pocket’s depths. Hazel started to get up, only for dancing shadows to replace the light. Four monstrous fingers were forcing their way inside, sliding down the back of the pocket and brushing against her folded wings and arms.

    Hazel cringed away on instinct, throwing herself against the front of the pocket in an attempt to gain her bearings. But the fingers merely bent, replacing the cloth under her feet as they effortlessly scooped her towards the top. She sputtered like a caught fish, her cheek rubbing unpleasantly against the soft dip of his middle finger as she struggled incoherently.

    “Hang on, I’ve got you,” Jon shushed her.

    The nearness of his larger-than-life voice had her go still immediately. Though she remained tense, Hazel stopped struggling long enough for Jon to pull her out the rest of the way and set her down on what appeared to be a massive bed.

    “There you go,” he said, tugging the thick blanket around her like a little nest. Hazel stayed seated there, looking on anxiously as Jon dipped his hand into his pocket for a second time to get Sylvia. He frowned down at the pale sight in his hand, fervent worry written across his face.

    “I'm sorry you guys were stuck in there so long. Couldn't get a moment to myself in all that mess.” Jon tore his gaze away from Sylvia, eyeing Hazel with a shade of the same worry. “Are you okay?”

    She shied away from eye contact, digging her fingers into the blanket. It was warm, at least. “I’m fine,” she said quietly, trying to get a better look at Sylvia. “Is she okay? It was hard to tell… in the dark.”

    Jon laid his hand flat on the bed, putting Sylvia’s pale body under both their lines of sight. The faint sunlight filtering through the bedroom window did little to improve her pallid appearance.

    “I can’t tell,” Jon murmured. “She’s still so cold.”

    "I still can't believe she did it," Hazel sighed, shaking her head. "After all that time of saying she'd never touch ice again." She peered up at Jon and tilted her head. "Did she tell you? This happened to our daddy a long time ago.”

    “It was her father?” Jon echoed, eyebrows shooting up fast.

    Hazel nodded. “I wasn't there, and I was too little to remember anyway. Sylvia never talks about it, but I know he was trying to teach her something during a storm. It backfired when he lost control, and the storm got really bad, so she couldn't go for help. She had to stay with him for a long time until he woke up." Hazel paused, frowning fretfully. "After he got better, she and him fought a lot because she didn't want to use ice anymore, even though it's what she's best with."

    "I… I never knew," Jon said quietly. He moved his free hand over Sylvia’s prone form, rubbing along her frosty arm with a gentle fingertip. Up and down, like he was committing the morbid sensation to memory. Without warning, he leaned back and those huge brown eyes were fixed on Hazel again.

    “Hey, scoot over a little, would you?" he asked in a murmur. He moved Sylvia further into the nest of blankets, making to set her down at long last.

    Hazel gave his hand plenty of space, only crawling back to the middle after he had gently shaken Sylvia onto the bed. She resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut when Jon pulled his hand back and stood up. Too big.

    “She’d want someone brave as you watching over her, I bet,” he said, voice high overhead now. “I'm going to go change out of these clothes, but I'll be right back, okay?"

    He waited for her nod of consent before he stood and left for the smaller room tucked in the back. Once he had shut the door, Hazel drew nearer to Sylvia, not caring if she would make herself colder. She pulled the thick cover closer around her sister. It wouldn't do much for her condition, but Hazel needed to feel like she was doing everything she could to help.

    Her gaze drifted upward and wandered around the room. She had never given much thought to how overwhelming the interior of a human-made building could be. The bed was a vast plain. The walls, the doors, and the furniture towered over her and felt so far away, like it was all put in place to make her feel insignificant. Being miles away from home only made her unfamiliar surroundings more frightening. She had to shut her eyes and take a moment to gather herself.

    At least it was quiet here. After the cacophony of booming voices and noises at the human hospital she’d been toted around for the last hour, this stillness was a treasure. Jon's movements rustled in the next room, somewhat tarnishing her attempts at serenity. Still, at least she just had one human to worry about at the moment.

    Lost in her tireless thoughts, Hazel flinched when the huge door swung open and Jon passed the threshold, but she tried to ward off her instinctive fear. He won't hurt me, he won't hurt me…

    His thumping steps brought him right back to the bedside, kneeling in front of their little nook within the folds of his comforter. The smell of dirty river water that had hung around Jon was gone now, replaced by a mild scent of some spice Hazel couldn’t name mixed with clean cotton. Hazel swallowed back a whimper as he reached in towards them with one of his massive hands. Jon gingerly pushed a fingertip onto Sylvia’s shoulder, turning her over so her face was not obscured by the shadows. A soft breath escaped her chapped lips, but even that was chilled. Hazel tensed, automatically tightening her grip on Sylvia as Jon’s huge hand shifted in a resting position.

    “You said it takes hours for this to wear off,” he said. “There’s nothing I can do to speed it along, or… Just make her feel like she’s not a freaking ice cube?”

    Hazel shook her head, red waves bouncing around her face. “I don’t think so. I think you just have to wait.”

    Jon heaved a great, gusting sigh, his broad shoulders slumping in defeat. Hazel scrambled to fix her windblown hair, frowning as something occurred to her: in all this confusion, he didn't seem angry with her sister at all. Sylvia had blatantly disregarded his wishes and gone along on the hunt, taking dangerous measures to do so. And yet, Jon showed nothing but pure concern for her, not even hinting he was upset at her for lying. The worry seemed to be tearing him apart.

    An ashamed blush bloomed on her round cheeks, knowing she wasn't making things any easier on him by acting cold and ungrateful. Even humans needed reassurance, she supposed.

    "It's n-not your fault," Hazel declared timidly, tilting her chin up to look at him. She tried not to think about how high she had to look just to make eye contact. "Sylvia's strong. She'll get through this, no problem." Hazel averted her gaze once again, more out of shyness than fright. "She's... lucky to have a friend like you who cares so much."

    A smile, softened by exhaustion, soon replaced the look of surprise on his face.

    "She's lucky to have such a sister who’ll stick around with her. I know this isn’t easy for you."

    The little girl blushed a little, feeling so strange to be looked at with such understanding from a human. After all, what could he possibly know about feeling small? Weak? Insignificant in the face of such a trial? Hazel ducked her head, the rosy bloom on her round cheeks now cast in shadow.

    "She says nice things about you," she said softly, eyes drifting back to his hand resting nearby. "You're pretty much all she talked about while we were, um... following you in the forest." A faint smile crossed her lips before she added, "I dunno... I think she likes you."

    "Really?" Jon crooned, nearly laughing. “That sounds pretty crazy.”

    Hazel gave him a strange look. If it was so crazy, why was he smiling like that? She wanted to pry further, but Jon changed the subject.

    "So, you were following us the whole time? Risky stuff."

    Biting her lip, she remembered he didn't know everything that had happened leading up to the alligator attack. She supposed he had the right to know what Sylvia had done.

    "Uh..." She wound her fingers together on her lap, leaning away from him. "We didn't follow you the whole time. I wasn't even supposed to be there. Sylvia, she... She put a traveling rune on you before you left her near the village.” She paused, realizing that Jon likely wouldn’t know what she was talking about. “It's a symbol that would transport her to you. She couldn't follow your metal wheel... thing the whole way with her bad wing."

    Hazel continued at a more rapid pace when she saw the realization mounting on his face.

    "I saw her just after she finished the incantation. I didn't know, really,” she insisted. “She told me to stay away, but..." She paused, swiping at her face when she felt a few hot tears roll down her cheeks. "I was just so happy to see her. The spell dragged me with her when I grabbed her arm." Frowning, she blinked hard and released a long sigh. "You're not mad at her, are you?"

    “Mad? No, of course not." Jon raked a hand back through his hair with a sigh. "She has the right to make her own choices as much as anybody. I just... I worry about her. With her wing hurt and her size around here. Look... Sometimes, people get upset just because they care about someone. You know that, right?"

    She gave him a searching look, thinking his statement over. It reminded her of the things her mother would say after yelling at Sylvia for leaving the village all night. "I love you, Sylvia, but you scare the hell out of me sometimes..." Hazel had only ever seen that as pure anger in response to disobedience, but now it seemed far less simple than that.

    "So you are upset with her," she said softly. "I think I get it. But she worries about you too. When we saw the alligator by the river, and she saw you and your friend running to kill it... I don't think I've ever seen her so scared in my life. I couldn't figure it out at first. We were in the trees, so it wasn't like the thing could reach us. But now I know that wasn't why she was scared." Hazel clenched her jaw and eyed the hand still lying near Sylvia before looking at Jon urgently. "Please go easy on her. I think she's really scared of losing you."

    The hunter's face took on a serious expression. "Go easy on her? For God’s sake, Hazel, what did you think I was going to do to her?”

    Hazel just bit her lower lip and shrugged, her big green eyes shining.

    Jon shuddered out a deep breath and shook his head. "Look, I wish she hadn’t put herself in danger, but only because I can't replace her. I'm not angry. How can I be? She saved our lives."

    The tension eased from Hazel’s shoulders when found nothing but honesty in his eyes. It was relieving to see how appalled he was at the notion of harming Sylvia in any way. Hazel wiped what was left of her tears with the back of her hand.

    "Good. Because if you did hurt her, I’d have to hurt you." She smiled weakly, letting out a small laugh. Her expression dampened when she took another look at Sylvia’s unchanged state. Then she remembered her sister hadn't been the only one injured during the hunt. "Your friend, the scarier one… Will he be alright?"

    Jon cracked a small smile. "Yeah, he'll be fine. I’m going to check back on him at the hospital after I take you back home. Speaking of which... Are you ready to go?"

    Her eyes widened, and she scooted away defensively, looking up at Jon with an offended scowl. "No, I don't want to go home! I'm not leaving Sylvia. Not until she's awake and I know she’s okay." She peeked at the massive room, unable to believe she was asking to stay there. But worry for her sister vastly surpassed any lingering fear.

    Jon opened his mouth and closed it again, hesitating. He glanced down at Sylvia, as if seeking her unconscious guidance in the matter. “Hazel, we’ll be heading back to the hospital again. You’d be riding in my pocket again and I can’t promise how long it’ll take.”

    “I don’t care,” Hazel said stubbornly. She gave the massive man a beseeching look. "She's my sister. You can't leave me wondering if she's alright."

    He stared her down, but Hazel swore she could see his resolve evaporate like morning dew. Finally, the deciding silence was resolved with a slow nod from Jon. "Alright. I’ll drive you back after she wakes. In the meantime… You must be getting hungry."

    Her shoulders slumped with relief, and a hand found its way to her stomach, growling away at the very possibility of food. In all the confusion, she had ignored the gnawing feeling in her stomach. Now that it was brought to her attention, she realized she was starving.

    “I’m a little hungry,” she announced shyly.

    Carefully, Hazel scooted away from Sylvia and stood on the giant mattress, eyes occasionally darting towards Jon’s hand as if it would jump at her. No sooner had she flickered her wings than fatigue shot through her with an unprecedented vengeance. She was already worn to the core from all the flying earlier. She had flown more in those few hours than she would have normally done in a week, and she was starting to feel the result of such an undertaking.

    “You know, I uh… I don’t mind carrying you,” Jon offered awkwardly.

    Pursing her lips uncertainly, Hazel lowered her gaze to find his hand had unfolded palm-up in front of her. She knew what sort of invitation that was now, and she supposed she was grateful there was an invitation to this process at all. She took a step towards his hand, then inched back again. She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded fast.

    “O-Okay. Just do it!” Hazel squeaked.

    “What?”

    “You can carry me but I can’t… I can’t just climb in there!”

    A soft noise of understanding escaped the hunter. Seconds later, massive fingers curled around her. She immediately regretted her decision when she felt just how deeply embedded she became in his fist. She could practically drown in the skin surrounding her! But the pressure was astonishingly gentle and lasted only for a moment. The pressure of surrounding fingers disappeared and she found herself seated on his open palm. Far below, she saw him scoop up Sylvia in a similar fashion before heading for the bedroom door.

    Hazel had hardly adjusted to the strange texture of Jon’s palm before the journey was over, and he set her down on a sprawling, dusty tabletop.

    "Sylvia tells me the food we've got is a lot different from what you have back home,” he called over his shoulder.

    "Everything you have is different than what we have back home," Hazel said, looking around the new room. She smiled and shook her head knowingly. "Sylvia must have the time of her life here."

    She watched Jon from the table, her face a mixture of confusion and curiosity at the unfamiliar appliances and practices. She was perfectly aware that humans had strange technology, but she had never expected to have a firsthand view of any of it.

    Jon moved about the kitchen, one-handedly preparing items and setting them onto the table beside her. A long plastic teaspoon measure filled with water. A plastic, ridged bowl stuffed with bright orange noodles. A torn edge of a much larger paper napkin. All of it unfamiliar, but hardly unpleasant. She only felt a hiccup of nerves return when Jon sat down in front of her, shaking a long metal cylinder with a thin nozzle at the top.

    "Hold out your hands,” he said, smiling.

    Hazel eyed the thing in his hand with a frown, but complied. Cupping her hands, she raised them toward him expectantly. She flinched when a light, foamy substance filled into her hands from the end of the nozzle. When nothing else happened, she looked up at him skeptically. “This is food?”

“Just try it,” Jon urged her.

    Hazel hesitantly sniffed the white substance before swiping her tongue though it. Immediately, she dove back for another messy bite, and another.

    “It’s like a sugar cloud!” she exclaimed. “Can I… Can I have some more?”

    Jon obliged, refilling her outstretched hands with another squirt out the metal canister.

Hazel finished the sweet cream in record time. There were still traces of whipped cream on her face as she dug into the cheesy pasta as if she hadn't eaten in weeks.

    "Oh my gosh, it’s warm! This is so good—“ She glanced up and paused when she saw Jon staring in at his hand. Her eyes widened with alarm. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

    Jon raised his head and blinked down at her. "Hm? Oh, she just turned over, see?" He lowered his cupped hand over the table so Hazel could see her. "That’s gotta be a good sign, right? She doesn’t feel quite as cold."

    Wiping her mouth with the piece of napkin she’d been given, Hazel scooted forward to peer in at Sylvia. Jon was right--some color had returned to her sister's face. She craned her neck, trying to keep all of him in her sights as his other arm moved again. He set the tall canister down and reached for Sylvia’s prone form with his other hand. Jon’s too-big fingertips ran across her cheek, lingering on the traitor mark branding her fair skin. From there, the fingers moved upwards to gently rearranged her hair around her face, smoothing some particularly unruly flyaways down behind her ears.

    Hazel openly stared for a few moments, unsure whether to be comforted or disturbed by his surprisingly tender actions toward her sister. Raising her eyebrows in realization, she pressed her lips tightly together. She wasn't about to pry for details, but she began to wonder if there was something other than friendship in his eyes when he looked at Sylvia. Hazel glanced between Jon and Sylvia as she wondered how well he actually knew her sister. She was doubtful, considering how rarely Sylvia opened up with even her own family. Then again, Hazel was staring at the result of Sylvia’s sacrifice to save humans.

    "There's probably a lot you don't know about her,” she blurted, a feeble attempt to convince herself that she hadn’t completely lost Sylvia to a couple of humans, even if this one was kind. “Don't feel bad. She doesn't like people worrying over her or thinking she needs help with anything. But…” She trailed off and sighed. Even if Sylvia did go back home, Hazel simply couldn’t see her being happy there. “I dunno, I have a feeling she might let you listen.”

    Jon raised his eyebrows. "That’d be something, alright," he answered in voice so quiet it was practically a sigh. Drawing Sylvia back to his chest, Jon straightened in his chair and forced a tense smile at Hazel. "Finish up. We've got to leave soon."

    When she announced she had eaten her fill, Jon rose immediately to retrieve his jacket from the other room. Needless to say, Hazel wasn't thrilled about having to hide in the confined space again. It was still unsettling to watch him lower Sylvia inside the outer pocket, but she tried to be brave. Jon held open the edge for Hazel with a small, apologetic smile. Hazel grimaced. Reluctantly, she flitted off the table and lowered herself into the pocket.

    The upside was that she could be near her sister again. She settled with her back against a corner and adjusted Sylvia so she was close. There was more room in his jacket’s pocket as opposed to his shirt's, leaving her enough space that she could stretch her legs out all the way. The older girl's wings twitched, but she offered no other indication of budging at the moment. Hazel wrapped her arms around Sylvia's shoulders and prepared herself for another unpleasant ride in a vehicle, vowing to cut off all the pockets from her clothes after this ordeal was through.