Thunderlight

(Cont.) Meet Lenny

With a nod of conviction, he forces himself to his feet. When the aches and pains unpleasantly remind him of their existence, he cringes but carries on. He holds himself with the dignity of the Alcott family name to hide the discomfort of his wounds. The one thing he can't seem to disguise is the subtle limp in his gait, but it will have to do.

He reaches the door, placing a hand on the knob. The sound of soft humming makes him pause. It's terribly off-key, but that's not why he hesitates—it's because he realizes if Lenny catches him, he'll be nagged back into bed. Not only would that be incredibly annoying, it would be detrimental to his mission. He has to get out of the house without being caught.

Easy. Retracting himself from the doorway, he instead turns to the window. The grimy, smudgy window that he would rather not touch, but he doesn't have much of a choice. Steeling his nerves, he hobbles over to the bed to climb back on it and grip the window. With a tug that strains his scraped up arms, he shoves the window open.

It squeaks, loudly. He winces and holds still, waiting for Lenny to bust in. But nothing happens; there's not even a sound of footsteps. Grinning triumphantly, Montgomery leaps out the window, his foot inches away from touching the earth...

...Only to be snapped up into the air.

Sticky, sturdy white silk wraps around his ankles, dangling him upside-down over the dead field. He struggles and wiggles in vain, trying to reach up and separate the threads from his feet. He can't even get a hand to his ankle to try.

"I thought I told you to rest," Lenny says, gazing down on him reproachfully from the roof. Why is he on the roof?! Holding the other end of the white string between his hands, he chides, "You're not gonna get any better at this rate."

Montgomery folds his arms and resolutely glares at the space in front of him. He knows any intimidation he exudes is impeded by the slow, comical spin of his hanging body.

"Let me go."

"Are you gonna go back and rest?"

"...Yes."

"No, you won't."

"Let me go!"

"Escape on your own," Lenny orders, sitting at the edge of the roof to watch him. "If your injuries are healed enough that you can escape, you'll be strong enough to travel. I surely won't be able to catch you, at least."

He scowls at the resistance. What happened to commoners obeying every whim of the nobles? Everywhere his father goes, people practically bow to him, racing to and fro in fear of disappointing him. How can he not invoke the same response? Is this another lesson Montgomery has been failing direly?

Before Montgomery can even think of some clever threat, he hears an unfamiliar voice clear their throat. It's haughty and impatient, shrill and grating. Almost impressively, it annoys him even more than Lenny does.

Lenny turns to look before he can. He's still stuck lazily spinning; but after a few wriggles and nudges, he turns himself around to see an unfezant arching her brows at them with disdain. A bag is slung over her wing, bearing the insignia of Florian's family. Florian must be the lord over this region. The reminder of that bastard's existence doesn't help his sour mood.

Somehow raising a brow even higher up her face, she drawls, "Are you Mr. Tom Mirthwood?"

"That would be my father," Lenny answers with a surprising tone of apprehension. Montgomery expected him to be all sunshine and rainbows about meeting a new friend or some sappy bullshit. "Can I help you, madam tax collector?"