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Elliot pitched the sweat-soaked lump of fluff at Yvonne’s head as Cassandra launched herself onto Barry’s back. Elliot vaulted up behind her and stuck himself to her shell as Barry plunged from branch to branch, closer and closer to the flaming hell below.
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“Hey, I’m Barry. Good ta make yer acquaintance. When I heard youse callin’, I was on my way ta da Floor — it’s gonna be a hot time down dere tonight. Looks like youse are stuck in a nesty situation.” He paused as though he were waiting for some kind of appreciative response.
The flames below flared as they struck the tree next door. Ash and glowing cinders swirled around them.
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“Cassandra! Come quick!” Elliot called.
“What is it?” she yawned, scaling the side of the nest to join him at the top where she saw the approaching fire. “Oh, my! It’s a good thing it’s raining, isn’t it?”
The rain stopped. The flames continued.
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Yvonne swiveled her head over her shoulder to face a rising breeze as thickening gray blotted out the lunar glow. She sniffed the air and turned back to her rapt audience.
“It was on a night like this,” she murmured in a sing-song tone, more to herself than to them. “The wind-gathered clouds glowered in the moonlight till they devoured the lonely moon, and the only light came from lightning on the horizon.”
She blinked once at Elliot and Cassandra. “A storm is coming. You’ll have to stay the night.”
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The moon had climbed only a branch or two higher in the tree when Yvonne returned with dinner to find Elliot cleaning dried blood from a slash on his girlfriend’s neck.
Looking away, she patiently reminded herself that her own savory kill still dripped from her talons, and she lay a beakful of mold-garnished leafy greens and a spongy-plump mushroom at their feet. Then, because that suffocating need to show well had woken from its long sleep, she couldn’t stop herself from discreetly tossing tufts of fur and shards of bone down to the charred forest floor.
Resentment simmered in her veins.
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The skeletons in the bird’s memories weren’t as easy to dispose of as those that littered her life, but she shook them to the dark bottom of her mind with a noisy, full body feather ruffling.
“I beg your pardon. Where are my manners?” she asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Welcome. I’m Yvonne. And you are—?”
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“Well?” The fierce predator blinked repeatedly, her flaming eyes flashing off and on in the dark. It was an intimidating effect she had perfected over the years to capture the attention of many broods of squabbling owlets.
The two tiny gastropods embracing in her nest pulled apart with a slight sucking sound. The larger one addressed her with a polite bow.
“Please accept our sincere apologies for dropping into your inviting… uh, Xanadu, uninvited. You see, we have just escaped the clutches of a deranged evangelist, and must have taken a wrong turn in our haste. We are the unwitting victims of gravity.”
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“Plummeting is not an altogether unpleasant sensation,” Elliot thought as they fell into the chilly night. “If I didn’t know how it has to end, I might be enjoying it.” He was beyond panic, and the sight of Cassandra tumbling beside him left him feeling only regret.
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Humiliated and furious, the Holy Man of the Holy Mansion took a howling swipe at Cassandra, slicing her neck with his jagged arm.
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From his painfully prone point of view, Elliot caught a glimpse of the underside of the overhang above the stranger’s head — there hung Cassandra, suctioned to the rock.
As the edges of her foot began to curl under, Elliot understood her plan. He had to give her time. He had to make sure the stranger stayed where he was.
Before Elliot could speak, more little green guys leaped from their circle to join the Brother on Elliot’s back. Horrified, Elliot felt them all tugging on his shell, dislodging it bit by bit, exposing his soft vulnerability.
Elliot hadn’t much time left to give.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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