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The creature was fast asleep, curled up in the towel and snuggled in Randall’s giant pillows.
Randall tiptoed over to drape a blanket over the sleeping creature.
“Sleep sweet, little one,” Randall whispered, tucking the blanket over the creature’s shoulders. He turned to leave, but the creature’s winged hand grabbed his forearm.
He marveled at the sleek emerald skin of the creature’s wing, the strength in that little clawed thumb clinging to him, and he was at once lost in big golden eyes.
“Don’t go,” the creature whispered earnestly. “Stay? Please?”
Randall’s heart thumped. The creature was clearly scared, and Randall sat on the edge of the bed. He patted the creature’s wing. “I’ll stay. I’ll watch over you while you sleep. Go on. Rest.”
The creature’s lips twitched in what may have been a smile, and he soon closed his eyes. “Keaton.”
“What?”
“You can call me Keaton.”
“Hi, Keaton. My name is Randall.”
“I’ll claw your eyes out if you try to hurt me, Randall.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Good… because I’m very tired.” Keaton tucked his wing back beneath the blankets, and he appeared to be dozing off.
Randall lay down next to Keaton on the very edge of the mattress, mindful of keeping a respectful distance. Keaton had been through horrors Randall couldn’t even begin to imagine, and he wanted to make sure he was as comfortable as possible.
Keaton had other ideas apparently, and he immediately burrowed into Randall’s broad chest.
Hesitantly, Randall wrapped one of his thick arms over Keaton to hold him close. “Is… is this all right? You… you won’t claw my eyes out?”
“Stay,” Keaton whispered. “Please.”
“Don’t worry, little one. I’ll stay.”
* * *
The next fewdays were exciting, wonderful, and sometimes a little frustrating.
Keaton was rapidly gaining his strength back thanks to Randall’s daily foraging and some generous trips to the local market, though it became apparent that Keaton’s affections were fickle. As eagerly as he would seek out Randall for cuddles when they lay down for bed, he refused to acknowledge what they were doing when the sun rose.
As soon as Keaton woke up each morning, he would push Randall off like he hadn’t moments ago been snoring away in his arms. Sometimes he’d push so hard that Randall rolled off onto the floor, but then he would want to snuggle again at bedtime.
It was confusing, but Randall didn’t mind. The mornings he woke up still in bed with Keaton were the best—and totally worth the occasional bumped head. Randall wanted to learn everything about Keaton and be close to him, though it was difficult when Keaton preferred to ignore him during the day.
Randall was nothing if not stubborn, and he was determined to befriend his new companion.
Hopefully without getting his eyes clawed out.
Although Keaton spoke English very well, he knew little about the modern world. A record player was like magic to him, and he didn’t fully understand what the circus wanted to do with him. Randall did his best to explain it, but Keaton remained mystified by it all.
Mr. King stopped by often to check in, but Keaton didn’t want to see him.
Randall didn’t blame him, but he knew Mr. King wanted Keaton to start performing soon.
It was difficult to help Keaton figure out any kind of act because he slept so much, sometimes only waking to eat. There was also the issue of him completely refusing to cooperate. He was clearly miserable, and Randall wondered why Keaton hadn’t tried to run away. Of course he was glad that Keaton was still here, but he was curious.
Randall got his answer when he happened to see Keaton struggling out of bed to get some fruit one evening and saw the crook in his left wing.
