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“I was gone so long because I had one more place to go before I returned. I have something for you.”
I wiggled down his body, feeling a hot thrill at the swelling at his crotch as I did so. I landed on my feet, and noticed for the first time that he had something in his hand. It was a tube, about three feet long, with spindly extensions poking out behind him.
No... it can’t be...
“Is that...” I couldn’t finish the question. Tears closed my throat.
“Cursed skies, I hope it is,” Wylf said. “I certainly flew over enough houses that looked like the one you painted.”
I took the telescope from Wylfrael with shaking hands, sliding my fingers down and opening up the tripod of its stand. Muscle memory made it all so easy, and I half-laughed, half-cried when my finger brushed the sticker I’d put there on the eve of my twelfth birthday. Property of Torrance Hayes, printed on my dad’s label maker.
“How?” I stood the telescope up, and almost couldn’t even see it through the tears.
“You showed me where you lived on that map. And drew your father’s house.”
“Um, excuse me, my art sucks!” I cried, whirling on him.
“Well, I wouldn’t like to diminish any of my fair mate’s qualities, but I will say that the lack of accuracy in your paintings hindered me a little.”
“A little! You must have had to check a thousand houses! Oh, my God, you didn’t go inside them, did you?”
Now I was picturing him, like some hot, alien Santa Clause creeping into unsuspecting Canadians’ houses.
“No, no,” he said, chuckling. “I merely flew close to them. Any houses with people living in them I knew were not the right ones. I found one that I thought could be the one from your drawing, and when I got close, though the scent was very faint and muddled, it smelled a little bit of you.”
I wanted to hug my telescope, though it wasn’t very huggable. So instead, I hugged Wylfrael again.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you what this means to me,” I said, voice trembling. I sniffed hard, trying not to cry.
Wylf dipped his fingers to my jaw, tipping my face upwards. I let myself fall into his blazing blue eyes, feeling, for the first time in a long time, that things were starting to turn out alright. We didn’t know what the hell was going on with the council, but we were alive. We’d survived and were together, we’d found my friends, we knew Skalla and Suvi were alright, and we’d be able to check on Marta soon, too.
“I’m happy, Wylf,” I said, almost afraid of the feeling. “I’m so happy.”
“Good,” Wylf murmured, lowering his mouth to mine. “That is all I want in this mortal life.”
Mortal life.
Short. Maybe even fleeting.
But fleetingly perfect.
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