Page 63 of The Starling and the Hatter

I pulled him to a halt, rather forcefully extracting my hand. “I wasn’t joking, Robert. I need to leave.”

He studied me for several seconds before deciding I was telling the truth. Then he frowned and shook his head. “I don’t understand. I thought…” He tipped a finger toward me, then back at himself, then at me again. “Why did you come here?”

I shrugged. “It was a mistake, or rather…” It hadn’t been a mistake. Coming here had taught me something I would not have realized otherwise. “I thought maybe I’d be more content if I chased some adventure.”

He grinned. “I’ve rubbed off on you, haven’t I?”

“Perhaps,” I conceded, though I no longer saw that as a good thing. “But, being here by myself…” I shrugged. “It actually gave me a lot of clarity.”

He stepped closer, crowding me a little. “But you’re not here by yourself.”

I frowned. I didn’t like his pushiness. Had he been this way before? I supposed he had, but before I’d found it flattering. Now it was just…uncomfortable.

“I suppose, but…honestly, I don’t think adventure for the sake of adventure is what I want.” I needed a change of subject. “Have you met Garnet?” I asked.

“The old caterpillar? Yes, I’ve encountered her a time or two.”

“Old caterpillar?”

“Didn’t you notice the caterpillars in her crown of leaves? I don’t know how she manages it, but those caterpillars will cocoon themselves right on the branches of that headpiece and emerge as butterflies.”

What a fantastical thought. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s eerie is what it is.”

“I thought she was remarkable,” I commented in all sincerity.

He gave a dismissive shrug. “Just tricks and gibberish.”

I frowned, not liking the way he was talking about Garnet. “Like your act? Isn’t that what magic is? Tricks and gibberish?”

I saw a true frown on him for the first time as he looked me up and down. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just insulted me.”

“And you just insulted Garnet, a woman I just told you I admire.”

He continued to look perplexed. “Are you aspiring to be a hag?”

His insult hit my heart, but as I thought through it, it gave me strength and I answered, “Yes.”

He looked even more confused, blustering for words for several moments before I cut him off.

“A hag is only another name for an old woman. A woman who has lived and mothered and experienced. A woman who’s gained wisdom the hard way. So, yes, Robert White, a hag is exactly what I aspire to be.”

I turned and walked away, feeling very brave and independent.

At least until he caught up with me. “Now, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t go off in a huff. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Were we? I was honestly doubting that assertion at the moment. But perhaps that was unfair. “Yes, of course we are.” It was not his fault I had invented feelings between us that weren’t real. Still, he’d left me that riddle. He’d asked me to come. “And because we’re friends, I have to ask, why did you leave without saying something to me?”

“I left you a message.”