Sort of Deadly

37 - A Rain Of Birds (And Bird Poops)

And she’s not alone.

Before I can blink my shock away, at least a good ten dozen gigantic butterflies have joined Goof. I squint my eyes to see Aar riding one of them . . . but no. Even in my relief I feel betrayed.

Anyway, a big air battle ensues.

Think Star Wars, but with birds instead of spaceships. It’s super awesome. But when you’re living it, also super duper scary.

I let out a low fart. It reeks of fear.

(What? I’m just being honest! I made you promise not to mock me!)

I watch Ravenna take flight to assist her raven spawn in the battle.

Meanwhile, Es’s side – I suppose that makes it my side – of the army fights without strategy. But sometimes will can overpower strategy. (That’s going straight in my autobiography, if I survive this.)

Plus, Es and the butterflies have the element of surprise.

Not gonna lie, I genuinely thought Goof was a goner back at the lake. I couldn’t be happier she’s alive! She does look worst for wear, though.

Es on her back is beaming brightly. I can hear her from this distance. ‘Weeeee! Let’s kick some bird butt!’

The crowd has started to disperse, lest they be the victims of bird poop and bodies. Because, trust me, it is raining birds today!

Rasthrum’s eyes gleam with joy. ‘We need to figure out a way to get rid of these binds, gurrrl.’

‘Never fear when the Aarster is here,' a voice whispers behind him. A very, very familiar voice which is usually more annoying than anything in the world but at the moment pretty much moves me to tears.

A finger on his lips to tell us to act discreet, Aar uses what to me looks like a short fish-scale to cut Rasthrum’s binds.

I feel a similar scale cutting me off the stakes too. ‘Marra!’ I exclaim.

‘Yes, yes, don’t distract me,' he says irritably. ‘It’s hard enough to cut these things as it is.’’

‘You came,' I say, choking up. ‘You both did.’

‘No duh,' they say together.

Pretty soon Rasthrum and I are on our feet again. I’d totally forgotten how tall and buff that guy was. But I have eyes only for . . .

‘Aarster?’ I ask. ‘What’s that?’

‘Aar plus master,' Aar explains. ‘It’s dumb, I know. You always helped me with my stage names.’

‘It’s – it’s not dumb,' I say, and launch myself at him like a monkey at a banana. (Okay, no, not bananas. Nuh-huh. I no longer like bananas, you know why. Wait, why am I talking about bananas?)

He pushes me away. I stare at him, nonplussed. ‘What?’

‘You!’ Aar yells, grabbing my shoulder painfully tight. ‘You are the smartest person I know and you’ve done some really dumb stuff lately!’

I wish I could explain Rule Number 4 to Aar. I can't; my maw feels frozen.

‘I . . . I’m sorry,' I manage at last.

Marra coughs. ‘I risked my life for you, too, you know. And I’m not averse to hugs.’

I force my tears back and wrap my arms around him tight. I retreat just as quickly, because – ‘Ew! You’re so bony, Mar!’

‘A thank you would be nice,' he grumbles.

‘Shut up, kids!’ Rasthrum rasps. (“Rasthrum Rasps” – could be a rap name.) ‘Or have you forgotten our lives are still in grave mortal danger!’

‘Um, right,' says Mar.

Aar simply glares at me like he wants to smash me to smithereens. He looks angry. Truthfully angry and hurt. How could I ever doubt he’d come to rescue me? Stupid, stupid Bee!

My stupidness (that’s not a word, by the way, but suspension of disbelief given the circumstances) has barely left me, when it crashes back into me like an airplane as I see someone else join Marra and Aar.

‘Oh, you guys found her,' Niffy says, dabbing sweat off her female-Edward-Cullen face.

Wait, Niffy says?

Says?!

She can talk?!