Page 59 of Hummingbird and Kraken

Geir finally realized that they were looking at a picture. He’d forgotten that phones could do that.

“Tell me about it,” Declan agreed. “When I get a canvas and oil paints, I think this is going to be my first portrait.”

Geir didn’t necessarily want to be in a portrait, but Declan looked so happy that he couldn’t disagree. He would be in as many portraits as Declan wanted.

“Declan!” May squealed, abandoning her rocks. “I found a feather!”

It was a rather bedraggled grayish feather, the fluffy part at the bottom matted and the smooth hairs at the top broken up into irregular clumps. He had still praised it when she found it.

Declan knelt on the ground so that she could add it to his collection.

“What does this one do?” he asked.

“Scares away the bad spirits,” May said, serious despite her small lisp. Then she started jumping up and down. “Horsey! Horsey!”

Declan swung her up over his shoulders in a move that had Geir instinctively reaching forward to catch her, though of course she was perfectly safe.

Declan raced off across the lawn, while May kicked her heels, peals of laughter trailing after them.

Rohahen stepped onto the porch and sat down in the chair he’d vacated earlier. Geir still didn’t know him well, but he was trying, at least a little, because Declan had said he wanted them to be friends.

Perhaps if they conversed, he wouldn’t feel those pangs of jealousy whenever Declan left for the day.

Rohahen faced him with an easy grin. “You and Declan are both good with children.”

Geir hadn’t been expecting that. Was this an observation or were there other undertones? Did Rohahen think that he and Declan should have children? The very idea raised too many questions for him to contemplate. “I don’t know anything about children,” he said instead. “I just sat there while the kitties climbed over me.” He gestured at the circle of rocks on the bench beside him, feeling a little silly and very out of place.

Rohahen chuckled. “Good parents spend a lot of time doing that.”

Oh, he was talking about Geir and Declan having children. No, that was far too much to consider. Declan was his hummingbird, his final ray of sun. Declan was more than enough.

Though Declan looked awfully happy bending over to pretend to eat the grass while May squealed and giggled, upside down.

He gave a noncommittal grunt. Perhaps May could come and visit somewhat often.

“You know,” Rohahen finally mentioned, “my grandparents talked about you. They said you helped build their house.”

Geir squinted at Rohahen, trying to pull back memories from the slippery winds of time. The People had lived mostly in longhouses, temporary constructions made of bark and slim trees. But when they’d moved to a single plot of land they’d learned the European methods of construction. For almost a decade they’d done nothing but build log cabins. He’d worked side-by-side with them for most of it.

Looking at Rohahen, he could remember now. He’d spent many evenings with Jerimiah and Alsoomse, playing cards and eating stew and cornbread while their children played around the fire. One of their children must have grown up to be the otter shifter that he remembered. Rohahen was the next generation.

“I did. Is the house still there?” He was only idly curious. But it was a nice memory. He hadn’t thought about Jerimiah and Alsoomse in decades. Geir was never quite one of the People, with his pale skin and reserved manner, but their hearth was filled with warmth and laughter in the bitter cold of winter.

“The house has been expanded and rebuilt, but the fireplace is still there. I live there now.”

Geir remembered that fireplace. They’d packed round stones with limestone and sand to make a simple cement. He had no desire to visit it, though. Like so many simple objects, it had outlived the friends he cared about.

Rohahen wasn’t deterred. “You’re still part of the tribe. If you ever wanted to come back, you’d still be welcome.”

Geir said nothing. He was surprised that Rohahen had said it all so plainly, since no one had approached him in decades. Probably it was because of whoever was bothering them. They wanted him as an ally.

He wasn’t going to break the pact. But being a part of the tribe? There were too many people. Too much work. They all died anyway.

He just wanted to be alone with Declan.

He gave another grunt, then turned his eyes to watch Declan chasing around a squealing child and tossing her into the air.

Maybe May could come over more often.