The Chickadee Girl

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Moving quickly, they arrived back at Peyman with the costumes in tow. In the end, they'd doubled back to the trophy case for the breastplate, and another wooden sword. Though the idea of wearing wooden armour had seemed absurd at first (and still did), Isa was beginning to warm to it in a general sort of way. Despite Tristan's uncertainty, she couldn't help but feel that it must have been Stagger who had wounded the boy. Who else? Either way, something around clearly had nails or claws or teeth that were sharp, and Isa wanted no part of them. Absurd-looking protection had to be better than nothing at all.

After they'd deposited the armour and swords on Cass's bed, they descended into the basement of Wolfe Hall across the way and pilfered a hockey mask, helmet, and kneepads from the rank-smelling downstairs lockers. Once all the pieces were assembled together, Isa and Tristan stood in the Peyman bathroom and silently examined themselves in the mirror by the showers. They looked fully and abundantly ridiculous, as Isa had known they would. Also she knew that any advantage their "armour" provided against teeth or claws might well be offset by the fact that it would now be much harder to run. Still, the costumes seemed to make Tristan feel better about things; he was reluctant to take his off, in fact. Once she finally convinced him to do so, they propped their artillery up on the two desk chairs, and sat facing them.

Midas came and sat by Tristan, rolling over to encourage a belly rub. Tristan obliged absently and stared into space, past the costumes, clearly lost in thought.

Isa nudged him softly in the ribs.

"What are you thinking about?"

He came back to earth, and grinned at her. "Raspberries."

She laughed. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "They're my favourite. I wish I was eating some right now."

Here they sat, preparing to get out or die trying, and the kid was daydreaming about fruit. She smiled. "If we get out, I promise to buy you one million raspberries. Raspberry candy, raspberry-flavoured gum. I'll bake you a raspberry pie if you want me to, but you should know that I'm a rotten baker." 

"Don't you like raspberries, Isa?"

"I loved them when I was a kid. But that was before I'd ever tried a ripe pineapple or mango."

"I've never had any of those." 

"You will, buddy."

Abruptly, he hugged her, which she wasn't expecting. His cheek was soft against her own, and he smelled like green fields and warm straw. She laughed and pushed him away, a little thrown by the sudden intense vulnerability of the gesture. She hadn't been a huggy kid, and adulthood hadn't changed that much. 

"When, Isa." It wasn't a question.

"Sorry?"

"When we get out. You said "If", but I'm not afraid of Stagger."

"I know you aren't. You're a brave kid. I wish I were brave."

Tristan patted her hand in a "Never mind, Dear" sort of way, and she had to work to hide her amusement. 

Tristan didn't seem to notice. "Midas will protect us." He reached down and ruffled the sprawled, distinctly un-fierce-looking dog.

The evening came fast, faster than she wanted it to. They'd worked out a tentative plan: they'd walk out towards the village not on the road, but in the same general  direction, and keeping it within sight. That way, they might not be as easy to spot, and, if it came to it, they might be able to lose Stagger in the trees.