Spring Fever
It was past sundown, yet the fences still radiated shimmering heat after being baked hot in the desert sun all day. The trees creaked and swayed in the spring breeze, their woody joints easing off the warmth of the day for the cool of night, bathed heavy in blossoms. Flowers had poked their sunny heads from the dirt, and even the night vines had popped open, filling the air with the scent of jasmine and orange.
Our Heroine, Seren Maddox, called the Bird, rolled about in her back lawn, sighing in some odd ecstasy. Her grasp of her masked form had become enough that it was second nature for the long-hair-that-wasn’t-really-there to become filled with bits of grass, blossoms of hay, little twigs, small pebbles and the like. Crawling along the lawn with her fingers, Seren stared, open-mouthed, at a procession of ants that were busy carting away the carcass of a grasshopper away to feed their egg-heavy queen.
She rolled away with another sigh, and lay back, digging her fingertips into the earth next to her. Johnny-jump-ups, cheerful in their tiny purple and blue blossoms, sprung their way up, brushing against her fingers in supernatural growth. A sigh of relaxation from the ghostly pale woman in a ghostly pale blue nightgown.
From the edge of the back door came a sniff, and a man padded with the silence and grace of a mountain cat to where the little thing rolled about. He first made a show of paying no attention to the woman, dusting his worn hat with a few lashes of his pawlike hands, and then placing it on his head.
“What are you doing?” He began bluntly, as was his wont. He left her silence with which to answer, but when one was not forthcoming... “Did you take mushrooms?” His eyes narrowed, nose in a slight sneer at the sides, his tail lashing back and forth with the tip cracking side to side like a whip-head.
Seren goggled at him, moon-eyed. “Eh?” Her voice came soft as usual. “Nooo... I didn’t take any drugs.” The gears in her head were almost audible before she gave him a curious look. “You know that I am less than fully here, on this side of the veil, and yet you think it is drugs?” He snorted. “You are still very human. Humans like drugs.”
“I don’t need drugs. And I certainly don’t like them. Not anymore, I mean.” She sighed happily, resting her head on her outstretched arms. “Silly cat. People take drugs to see the things I see without drugs.”
Suddenly the air was out of her, not that it mattered, because Rainier was sitting on her, cross-legged. “Silly bird, lets herself vulnerable in front of someone she thinks is a cat.”
Seren tried to take air in. It worked, a bit, so she squeaked out. “You are a cat. You have cat eyes, and a cat tail, and are a cat, because it is your curse. I am only a bird because you decided so. I haven’t even feathers, or a beak.”
Rainier chuckled, somewhat, and decidedly began to stretch out atop the woman, mushing her lightly against the lawn. “You are right, you know. You are unlike any bird on this planet. But do you know why I call you my bird?”
Gaining some lung space back, Seren turned her head to speak, thoughtfully. “You are Boer, maybe ‘bird’ is a slang that came from Europe to South Africa? Oh oh, you think I am small and defenseless but pretty and pleasant to listen to, so you keep me around in a cage until you can eat me. Like an ogre.”
Another chuckle, and he began to pick the grass from her long white hair that he knew full well wasn’t there because he had seen her without her mask on, but he tried not to think about it too much. “An ogre? First a cat, now an ogre. I get the feeling that I should be irritated at you for the implication.”
“Well why?” She wriggled. “You are the one who made such import of ‘oh we are beasts, you pretend humanity where there should be one, be the little stormcrow death-bird that gets me all stirred up’. Ergo, we are monsters, and monsterous, and destined to just be very bad things and would you please stop chewing at my ear like that? It is very distracting, dear.”
“I was not chewing.” He sounded incredibly put out. “It was nibbling. And distracting you was the point.”
“Well it was working and- what time is it?” Seren looked up at the moon, boggling.
“Past eight.” He eyed her ear again, sizing it up.
“Mmmph, shove off then.” She wriggled again, and he placed one large hand on her chest, pinning her. “Nuhhhh, really. I have to go bring Uncle Petyr his supper.”
Rainier grunted, rolling off of her. “Uncle Petyr, Uncle Petyr. Am I ever going to meet this mysterious benefactor of yours?” He eyed the grass as though it would soon be meeting an unhappy end via a mouthful of fangs in retaliation for His Bird leaving.
Seren brushed herself off for a few moments, too few, and suddenly her entire outfit and her hair was back to rights, untangled, unmussed, and perfectly clean. “Maybe,” she dodged. “It’s up to him, you know. I don’t make the rules in this world.”
“I don’t expect you to tell me all your secrets in this world, little one.” He looked at her, dozily, blinking slowly, tail slowly sweeping back and forth on the grass.
She smiled back, more a smirk than anything. “Good.” She trotted off into the house, shutting the hunter green door quickly, as though expecting him to give chase.
Instead, Rainier stretched out, pushing his hat up over his face and wiggling his bare toes against the grass. Seren had been right. It was nice out here.