Like a Horse Made of Air

The Calm That Comes Before

Then she says in his ear, "I'm proud of you."

Tommy's eyes flutter closed a moment, and his smile turns soft. Then he cups the back of her head and pulls her into a lingering kiss.

Arthur struts like a peacock up the walk to the Lees camp. You'd have never guessed he'd taken so poorly to the idea at first. The gypsy clan greets the Shelby's with open hands and easy good humor. Wren walks with Tommy on one side of her and Ada on the other.

Then the bench is set up and the crowd gathers. Arthur kneels in his place with a grin for Johnny Dogs who's officiating. Esme comes from a vardo, dressed and veiled in white, and kneels beside the eldest Shelby brother. The ceremony is brief—just a few words and the cutting of palms before they clasp hands.

Then the party is on.

Food and drink flow freely as music fills the air. Wren is careful to make sure she takes a moment to sit beside Zilpha, the woman looking on with clear pleasure, and touch bases.

"Things are going mostly according to your man's plan," Zilpha informs her. "You must be pleased."

"I am indeed," Wren answers. "He's burdened with intelligence, Tommy, his mind ever ticking away. But when he puts it to use, it pays forward."

"He given you a date yet?" Zilpha asks.

"I've an idea of when he's looking to finish the game," Wren acknowledges, "but not an official date yet, no."

Zilpha's silent and watchful for such a moment that Wren is left wondering if she missed something. Then the Queen inclines her head and lets the subject go.

"Do you dance?" Tommy asks her later.

The sky has gone dark, and more fires have been lit. While the kids have been put to bed. The party continues on though, music, dance, and drink aplenty."

"Suppose I could be convinced," she smiles at him.

Tommy gathers her hands into his and says, "Wren Ashby, Queen of me heart, would you be kind enough to dance with your man?"

"Well," she laughs as she stands, "that's fair convincing, I'll give you that."

He draws her into the edges of the "dance floor" then they dance.

He's a startlingly deft hand, even for the faster paced numbers, and she has a sudden glimpse into the laughing, playful young man Tommy had once been. He twirls her about for the numbers she knows and teaches her the ones she doesn't. He's always mindful of her breathing, and makes her take breaks regularly, but they spend a good few hours enjoying themselves.

Feeling bold, she decides it's late enough few people will be wandering and takes Tommy's hand and gives a tug before dropping it and quick-stepping out of reach. He watches her with interest, slowly rising from his seat and following when she keeps backing away. She offers him a playful smirk and darts for the trees. She ducks behind the first trunk to glance back and see how far behind her he is, to find him walking steadily with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette between his lips.

"What are you up to, little bird?" He calls.

"A game," she calls back.

"And what are the rules of your game, eh?"

"Keep away," She grins, "and chase."

When he's close enough to see his eyes clearly, she flits away again, always keeping well out of arms reach. When he snuffs his spent smoke, it suddenly becomes a bit a more of a challenge. The intensity of the game builds slowly, with little darts and quick-stepping. Tommy trails a hand around the trunks of trees as he rounds them, but his pace is an unchanging ceaseless march.