A/N Hello again, and thanks for coming back. I'm pleased with the response this rather silly little story is getting - glad you're all enjoying it. And, for those of you following Prairie Lullaby, there is more of that in the very, very near future!
Disclaimer: None of the recognisable characters belong to me.
It wasn't as though Killian had never thought about being asked by a beautiful woman to help her undress, but he did feel that the experience would have been more pleasant, no doubt for the both of them, if she wasn't quietly crying while he desperately tried to get her buttons undone.
It was hardly living up to his fantasies.
Not that he'd had fantasies like this about Princess Emma. When he heard about the nature of the trip and the guests that were to be on board the ship he had thought that, perhaps, the most he would get was to answer a question or two she might have had about the Pink Cliffs or the terrain around them. And he had read up on the subject, just in case.
But now he realises that what he should have been studying were buttons. Or, specifically, the kind of buttons that keep the princess locked into her dress. He fumbles terribly with them; they were simply too small, and the fabric of the dress too slippery. All the while he is desperate to just retreat from the princess and her tears.
The trouble is that out of sight is not out of mind. Killian finds a small pool which is barely tepid a way from where he left the princess to bathe but he finds it difficult to concentrate on his own ablutions. He feels responsible for her now, perhaps even more so than he did the previous night.
He keeps wondering what Liam would do in these circumstances, whether he would have left the princess wandering around in the undergrowth by herself or been able to provide more reassurance that King George's army was not any immediate threat. Killian was almost certain that Liam wouldn't have simply managed to teach the princess some colourful terms not quite befitting a lady.
More to the point, he knows for a fact that the princess would not have been so completely horrified if it was Liam who had been helping her undress.
Killian feels utterly inadequate, both as the princess' protector, and as a naval officer. He isn't certain what fate awaited him when, and if, they did make it home. Jumping into the sea after her had surely been an idiotic move on his part and caused Liam a great deal of concern when his absence, along with Princess Emma's, was discovered.
And then he heard the princess calling and of course she was in trouble because he'd failed her once again. There was probably some kind of giant eel that had emerged from the depths of the pond and was, right at that moment, devouring her and, should he ever make it back to the Enchanted Forest, he would be princess-less and utterly disgraced.
But when he finds her again there is no eel, or anything else terrifying, save the buttons that she expects him to once again do battle with. Clearly, however, the princess cannot say the same. It's more than obvious from the way she looks at him with a kind of fascinated horror that he should have stopped long enough to get properly dressed again before he ran back to her.
He won't make that mistake again.
And the situation is not improved when she averts her eyes and starts babbling about chimeras, making it more than obvious that the only thing she can think of in relation to Killian are monsters and, possibly, hunger.
While Killian is struggling with that himself it isn't, perhaps, as bad as the worry he feels in the pit of his stomach when he has to face buttoning the princess' dress once again. The princess makes a valiant attempt to lighten the mood, cursing the design of the gown she is wearing and Killian is mildly pleased with the retort about her dress failing her that he conjures in response, thinking that it sounds an awful lot like something Liam would say. It doesn't quite manage to remove the sadness from her voice but she does decide that Killian should be granted the privilege of calling her by her first name.
Only it doesn't feel like a privilege to Killian. It feels like a burden. He'd much prefer to pretend that she's not a person but some kind of very rare object that he just has to keep in one piece until it returns back to where it came from. You don't have to worry about an object getting itself killed, or whether it's about to burst into tears, or, especially, whether you'll enjoy touching it far, far too much.
There is nothing for it, though, but to acquiesce with her proposal and hope that the princess…no, Emma is who is she is supposed to be to him now…remembers that they are not, and are never going to be friends.
At first there is what feels like an awkward silence between them as they trudge onwards. The princess breaks it first. "I did appreciate the chance to bathe," she says, in a quiet and overly polite voice that sounds not at all like the person who'd been lamenting the choice to put chimera on the menu.
"I'm glad." He presses his lips together and manages to hold in the 'your highness' which threatens to slip out. Killian suspects the princess notices, but she doesn't say. Mostly she is distracted by her hair.
"Oh, for goodness' sake," she mutters, as the strands unravel from the braid she'd put them in. Killian had noticed her struggling with her hair on the beach and, as much as he admires it, he can imagine that it is somewhat of a burden. His own hair is a tangled mess; the ribbon that usually ties it back lost in the sea and his hasty retreat from the pond not allowing him any time to remedy the situation earlier.
"Look, you hold it for me as I gather it, and then I'll just try tying it back, alright?" she says to him, and Killian nods before stepping forward to take hold of her hair.
It's probably the closest they've been since awaking that morning and oddly not as uncomfortable as he might have suspected. Still, there is no denying that her proximity is far too alluring and he shifts a little from foot to foot as the princess gathers up errant strands of hair to add to that he's already holding.
"Alright. I'll just tie this around it." The princess wraps what appears to be part of her clothing around the hair and ties it in a bow. "What do you think?"
"Very, uh…practical."
Clearly that was not the right answer to give. She narrows her eyes at him and Killian tries to think of a better compliment. "The tie, uh…well it matches your dress. I suppose it was a part of your dress previously, but…"
He stops abruptly when the princess reaches up and grasps a handful of his own hair. "Yours is almost as bad," she mutters. He has no reply to that at all and is torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer. In the end his mind seems to settle on simply being embarrassed about the whole thing and he can feel himself blushing.
"You know," she says, continuing to run her fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face. "The next time I travel anywhere by boat I will remember to sew a comb into my corset in case I get marooned anywhere. It would be awfully useful about now."
"Mmm," is about all he can manage in reply, certain there was something about her speech that he didn't completely agree with, but not remembering what it was now. Not when her fingers keep moving through his hair and she's standing so close and at the mention of corset he immediately looked down and the view of the princess' bosom over the top of hers was simply too alluring.
He's never wished to be standing next to a non-breathing marble statue more in his life.
"Do you have anything to tie it with?" she asks and it's a moment before he can reply to tell her that he hasn't. "Never mind," she continues, unconcerned. "I'll just…"
The princess' hands disappear from his hair and he is at first bereft but, slowly, as rational thought returns, he realises she's trying to pull a ribbon from her own dress. "I can't get it. Will you give this a good tug for me?"
He looks at where the ribbon is positioned on her waist. It could be worse; it could be higher. Or maybe that would be better. He can't really tell, and is reluctant to do as she asks.
"Won't that rip the dress?" he asks.
"Phfft. It's rags now anyway. Everything I'm wearing is. My slippers have all but perished, my shift is missing a few pieces I had to rip away. I'll have to find something else, and soon. But in the meantime your hair is annoying me. So, just pull it off."
It's all he can do not to close his eyes as he tries tugging the ribbon, gently at first. "Harder," the princess commands. "Honestly, have you ever met a royal seamstress? They don't do anything by halves. You're going to have to really go for it."
Killian does as she instructs, the ribbon coming away in his hand. The momentary relief he feels at being able to step away from her again disappears as soon as she steps behind him and her hands are back in his hair. To distract himself, he attempts conversation. Poorly.
"Speaking of…uh, rags. You are…that is, I mean…you found something?" He immediately regrets the question, and thinks it is probably not something he should have asked.
But the princess is nothing if not verbose on the worst topics. "I used part of my shift. See?" She steps around him, lifting her dress and he tries not to look at the legs she exposes in the process. Then she is back behind him fixing his hair.
"I'll have to find something better, but it will do for now. Luckily I'm not bleeding all that much anymore, and I'm well past the crampy stage which is downright unpleasant. If it was the first day of my bleeding then I doubt I'd be going anywhere without a large dose of pain powder. So it could be worse, I guess."
The princess is awfully quick at picking up on his lack of response. "I suppose really a simple 'yes' would have sufficed wouldn't it?" She sighs. "I'm sorry. I forget that you're…well. Anyway, that's a big improvement in your hair, don't you think?"
She moves away from him and Killian feels for where she has, indeed, now tied his hair back for him. "It is. Thank-you, your highness."
"Emma!" She accompanies her remonstrance with a slap on his arm which he assumes is meant to be playful, but somehow hurts more than he thinks it should.
There is another awkward moment where neither of them seem to know what to do next. Luckily the princess is all business when she speaks again. "So, how far do you think it is? To home?"
"I don't know, exactly…" Killian hopes that she won't keep pressing for a more accurate assessment. If he was on the Jewel, if he had access to a sextant or charts or anything else that would actually help him navigate then he might be able to give her a better answer, but, sadly, he is stuck in a forest of scrubby trees and bushes and there is nothing here that will give him any clue.
The princess…Emma…the person who is, inconveniently not an object, looks as though she is considering that statement. "Are we actually closer to King Midas' kingdom? Than home?" she asks in the end, perhaps a little hopefully. "I just thought that…well it borders King George's kingdom, doesn't it? I mean…the southern end does. So perhaps it's nearer to where we are now?"
"I couldn't say." Killian pretends not to notice the way her shoulders slump at his words. "But, granted, it is a possibility."
"It was just a thought," she mumbles. "I was hoping we could go there."
"You know people there?"
"My godmother, Princess Abigail."
"The Princess Regent?"
"Yes." She nods enthusiastically. "I spent last summer with her. It was…" The princess stops speaking and appears to be searching for a word. Unfortunately she also stops walking as she does so and, while Killian realises that the journey will be a long one, it will be even longer if this occurs on a regular basis.
He considers suggesting they should ban conversation when she finally appears to find the term she wanted to use. "Interesting."
Killian is quite certain that such a pedestrian term shouldn't have required such a long pause in their journey, and, despite the fact he tells himself that provoking further conversation could lead to interminable delays he can't help but point that out to the princess.
"Are you merely being polite, your…" He pulls himself up short before the final word slips out.
"You were supposed to call me Emma," she retorts, frowning at him and pursing her lips. Her eyes give away though that she is far from mad and he finds that the playfulness in her expression is just…utterly confusing. He looks away but she continues on, blithely. "And of course I'm being polite. I can be sometimes, you know."
"They do say that Midas' palace is quite something to behold," he states, trying to get back on a more equal footing with the…Emma…person. Landmarks seem to be a much safer topic of conversation.
"Do they? Was that in a book too?" She sighs. "You don't have to answer. Yes, it's gold. All of it. But it's not like I had time to stand around and admire it…or do much of anything, really."
"It was not an enjoyable holiday?"
"She's lovely…Princess Abigail. But she and Duke Frederick only had boys." The princess makes a face, eyes widened and eyebrows raised that suggest to Killian he should understand the significance of this remark.
But he's a little lost now, and wishing the gold palace was back in the conversation. "And that's not a good thing?"
"Not for me," she grumbles. "Because she's desperate to share her thoughts on how to be a better queen."
"I see."
The princess looks at him sideways. "I bet you don't. I mean, it's not like my mother doesn't try to impart her wisdom to me all the time. But she's more about understanding the feelings of your subjects and learning that not everyone is as privileged as we are. Princess Abigail believes that if you read every single law book in the kingdom then you can best anyone in an argument. I barely went outside the whole summer. There were tests! I failed some, can you believe it? At least Mama has never expected me to learn all the intricacies of how to mine diamonds, or the hierarchy of fairies, or…or…Oh! My mother!"
Killian had been mesmerised by the sudden animation in the princess' demeanour as she lamented her fate at the hands of the Princess Abigail, watching her eyes widen in horror at the memory of the hated examinations, and her hands jab at the air and now, with the sudden change in the subject he is floundering around just as much as he was in the sea the night before.
"That's it!" the princess continues, as though everything is obvious to both of them.
"Fairies?" he ventures. "I'm not sure how you'd go about finding any around here…"
"No. My mother. We can get a message to my mother. I just need…" The princess starts scanning the trees hopefully. "A bird."
"You can speak to birds?"
"No. Not a jot." She looks back over her shoulder at him and shrugs. "Yet another thing I didn't inherit. Eva can. Leo too. But not me!" The forced jollity of that last statement is jarring but the princess continues on, the words tumbling out. "But I don't have to understand them, they just have to understand me."
"So, any bird?"
"Well, it needs to be able to fly back to the Enchanted Forest but otherwise, yes." Now set on her task the princess starts to walk rapidly towards an area where the trees are taller and denser, with a thick growth of dark-green ferns beneath them. "I bet there will be something in here," she announces, before crashing her way through the undergrowth.
"Aye, but you'll have to be careful not to frighten them off." Killian follows her into the darkness, his eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the slanting rays of sunshine.
The princess stops, sighing impatiently. "Alright. Well help me look, then."
Killian cranes his neck skyward and hopes for a glimpse of something feathered. Intent on his task he neglects to notice how close the princess has drifted and, taking a step to the right, he realises, far too late, that he has trod on her foot.
"Ow!" The princesses' voice is loud in his ear and he bites back his initial inclination to remind her to watch out for others around her. It's something that happens from time to time on board ship, of course, when everyone is working in a small space and just trying to get on with the job at hand. But, in those circumstances, one party isn't disadvantaged by being shod in footwear which is designed on the principle of form over function.
The worst part, he realises, is the initial look of shock in her eyes, as though she can't believe he actually hurt her. She is balanced on one foot now, rubbing the injured one and swaying slightly and Killian thinks about reaching out to steady her but decides that it is not the time to try touching her again.
The outraged eyes are bad enough, the tears coming back would certainly be worse.
He settles for making an apology. "I'm so sorry your…"
The princess cuts him off. "It's Emma, remember?" she snaps.
"Yes, I am quite aware of your name." He curses the fact his reply is more curt than he would have liked, but he feels more than a little put upon, now. Certainly there's no denying the fact that he stepped on her foot, but he can't help but feel that some of the blame lies with the princess who wants to just be Emma for getting in his way in the first place. Or even for just falling off the bloody deck of the Jewel and starting this whole debacle.
"And yet you seem so reluctant to use it." The way her head tilts to the side and her eyebrows raise are clearly a challenge.
"Fine," he huffs, not prepared to back down completely. "I am so deeply sorry for injuring your delicate foot, Emma." He finishes with a deep bow from the waist, accompanied by a waving hand that is bordering on mocking.
"Humph. You don't have to be quite so obsequious about it…" She pauses, the haughty expression she's adopted fading rapidly into a frown. Killian guesses this is the moment when she realises that while she has been prodding him to use her name, she has completely forgotten his. There's a small flash of triumph as he figures that he might have the upper hand and he is about to open his mouth and remind her of his name, when he notices the blush colouring her cheeks and the way her eyes have begun scanning the ground in a, no doubt, completely fruitless search for birdlife.
He supposes that it's not something she's used to, having to remember the names of the people who are there to do her every bidding and be mindful of where her feet are at all times. They're just part of the background. And, as much as Killian had wanted to pretend that the princess was some kind of object, he assumes that she would also find it easier to just treat him no differently to those other servants she is used to having trail around after her.
She is making somewhat of an effort, and perhaps he should as well.
He is attempting to think of a way to alert her to the fact of his name when she does what she always seems to do in moments of acute embarrassment; she lets her mouth run away with her. "I suppose I should be used to the fact you always want to be on top of me by now," the princess blurts out, her eyes still on the ground.
Killian stops puzzling about his name and his mind wanders down a path that really only leads to somewhere quite inappropriate. He blames the fact that his first reaction is to blurt out "I have no idea what you mean," in a voice that rises embarrassingly in pitch on the fact that he is annoyed at his own mind for entertaining such lewd thoughts about the princess.
"Well, if you're not standing on me, you're sleeping on top of me," she says with a sigh, skirts swishing as she side-steps around a fallen branch.
Killian remembers waking up in a tangle with the princess and, belatedly, wishing he'd had more time to actually enjoy the contact rather than just worrying that he'd drooled on her neck. He now isn't certain whether apology or denial is the better tactic. Or, perhaps, a jibe about whether she thinks it was appropriate to sleep with someone whose name she cannot remember in the morning.
No, that might be a step too far and alienate her altogether. She is nothing if not confusing; her moods changing at the drop of a hat, and her comments blunt and poorly worded. Most frustrating of all is her strategy for bird-spotting which seems to consist completely of staring at the ground in a move that, Killian thinks, is never going to yield a satisfactory result.
If she wants a bird then she should be looking up.
But then she points at something in the undergrowth. "There!"
"What?"
"A bird. I've found one!"
Killian follows the princess' gaze and watches the fern fronds shake. "That's surely something else, something bigger. It can't be a bird."
"It is," the princess insists. "I saw wings, which I think are a pretty good indication. Look, there!"
He looks and, sure enough, there is definitely something with feathers poking about under the fern, rustling dead leaves with its feet.
"I think it's a kind of…parrot," the princess says, inching forward to get a better look.
"No…it's not the right shape…" The bird emerges from the undergrowth and stares at them unblinkingly. "And it has a face like an owl."
"It doesn't look anything like an owl," the princess counters. The bird seems to suddenly notice that it is the centre of attention, and lets out a squawk while tilting its head to one side to view them better.
"And that's clearly not an owl noise," she continues. "So it's a parrot. And you have to think that a parrot that big must be able to fly a long way."
She hasn't exactly phrased that as a question, but Killian suspects she's looking for reassurance that her plan will work. He'd like to give it to her, but he is a little unconvinced. "I don't know if those wings would hold it. I mean, it's awfully round, don't you think? It looks far more like something you'd pluck and roast."
As if it can understand the words he's said, the bird stares him down and lets out another, louder squawk.
"Please don't offend it before I have a chance to ask," the princess hisses to Killian.
"Fine. But I still don't think it can fly," he hisses back, watching the bird as it edges towards them.
There's a squawk from overhead and both they and the bird look up to see another pair of greeny-brown wings high in the treetops. "See?" the princess says, gaily. "They can obviously fly because how else would a bird get up there. Plus, I think this one likes me. I'm going to try talking to it."
She doesn't appear to be mistaken about the bird liking her as it has now finished edging forward and is nibbling the edge of her gown in an exploratory kind of way. Killian watches as the princess crouches down and the bird stops nibbling and stares at her with unblinking eyes.
"I'm very sorry to, uh…disturb you," she begins. "Mr Bird. Or Mrs. I don't want to offend you." She pauses, and the bird doesn't do anything other than continue staring, so the princess continues on. "I wish to request, most humbly, your assistance with a…very important matter of state."
There's another pause while the bird looks over its shoulder and squawks, loudly, as if alerting its companion to what is taking place. The princess, sensing she's losing the bird's interest, starts again, this time in a muddled blur of hasty words rather than carefully chosen phrases. "Look, I'm sorry. This isn't really my forte. My mother, she is excellent with your kind. With everyone, really. She'd know what to say. I just want to ask if you…if it's not too much trouble. Could you go and tell her I'm alright? That I'm not dead and that I…" This time the princess looks at Killian, as though judging how much to give away in front of him. "I miss her. She's my mother, and she'll be worried. I just want her to know that I'm not dead."
The bird cocks its head and shakes out its feathers before starting to turn away. "Oh!" the princess adds, quickly, and the bird stops and Killian could almost swear that it is actually listening to her words. "I should say. My mother…she's Snow White. Queen, of the Enchanted Forest. I know it's a long flight, but I'm sure that wings as sturdy as yours could fly there and back, and I'd be so, so grateful. We both would." She turns to Killian again and this time there's a smile on her face. He can't help but return it.
The bird stretches out its wings and shakes its head and Killian wonders whether this is a mere display or an attempt at communication. He's still not convinced that the thing can actually fly.
And then it turns and starts to walk off. "Are you sure it understood?" he asks the princess.
"Birds are smarter than they seem," she retorts, straightening up again.
"I have no doubt of that." If anything Killian thinks that the bird is trying to tell them something, opening and closing its wings several times before running a short distance and running back. It seems to be quite quick at covering the distance. For a bird.
"I wonder if I need to say anything else…like give it a direction to fly in?" the princess muses.
Killian holds his tongue for fear that another comment about the unlikelihood of this bird to get off the ground will only serve to earn him more of the princess' scorn. Still, he cannot shake the impression that the bird is trying its hardest to impart that information to the princess itself.
After another few moments spent watching the bird perform the odd little dance, it appears to give up and starts off towards the tree where its companion has been sitting all this time. "Do you think it's going to leave soon?" the princess asks plaintively.
They watch as the bird begins to ascend the tree, using only its claws and break to climb the trunk. Its wings appear to be useful only for balance. Halfway up it turns and Killian could swear it gives them an apologetic shrug, before it goes back to climbing. The other bird passes it on the trunk of the tree, climbing down in much the same fashion, before it pushes off and glides to the ground, landing in an undignified heap. It picks itself up, stares at Killian and the princess curiously, before setting off at a fast run through the undergrowth.
Killian dares to look in the princess' direction and finds her staring open-mouthed at the birds. "I just…no, that's not right." She turns to Killian. "It can't fly?"
"I believe that's the case. Yes."
He braces himself for the reply that doesn't come. Instead she turns and starts walking quickly through the undergrowth, pushing through ferns noisily and causing an alarmed squawk from their new friend above them. And then she stops, suddenly, as though she's found an invisible barrier, and she crashes to the ground in a heap, much as the bird he'd witnessed only moments before had done.
Killian walks over to her, as carefully as they had approached the bird earlier. He's worried about her throwing things again and perhaps this time using him as a target. But as soon as he sees the slump of her shoulders and the way she is picking at a frayed seam on her dress he realises that throwing things would be infinitely preferable to this. She can't be that defeated just because she thought the bloody bird could fly, can she?
He wonders what on earth he can say to comfort her, but he doubts that anything he tries will make up for the fact that, clearly, she is missing her mother and cursing a lost opportunity to contact her. He tries, forlornly, to think what Liam would do under the circumstances but realises that even his brother would be out of his depth at this moment.
It's a terribly sobering thought.
Liam may be quite adept at polite conversation or inspiring great loyalty amongst the people he commands, but Killian does not think that his brother would be any better at providing comfort than he is himself. After all, while he has some slim chance of being a pale imitation of his brother the girl he is with is missing her mother. He has no chance at all of being able to dredge up an impersonation of one of those.
He can't even remember having one.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, with Killian hovering behind the princess as she sits on the ground she seems to rally. Or, at least, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and sticks her legs out straight in front of her, smoothing her tattered skirt across her legs. "Of course it couldn't fly," she says. "Bloody birds always hate me. Have you ever seen an angry bluebird?"
Killian shakes his head, and sits down beside her. "Well, it's not pretty," she continues. "And it's far worse when they can complain to your mother that you knocked over the bird-feeder again. I have no luck! I mean, I got us into this whole mess and now I can't get us out of it. I'm the worst person to be stuck with, aren't I?"
She looks at him pleadingly, clearly wanting him to deny it. "I don't think that's true at all…" he begins, but he doesn't get to say anything further as she waves a hand, rather dismissively he feels. What was the point of even asking him then if she doesn't want to hear the answer?
"If my mother were here," she continues. "She would know what to do. She could track…something, anyway. At least she could find a bird to talk to. The right sort of bird for a start. I am the most awful princess to be lost with!"
"I don't know. I mean, from your description the Princess Abigail doesn't sound like the best travelling companion."
He had hoped that would bring a smile to her face, but, if it does, it is so fleeting he misses it altogether. She sighs, noisily. "I just wish…well. I'm sorry you got stuck here. With me."
"I…" he doesn't get to finish, which he is a little glad of, not entirely certain what exactly he would say anyway.
"It's fine," she says, in a flat voice that matches her furrowed brows and pursed lips. "I don't need a bunch of empty words. I'm not that delicate."
"I had assumed as much. After all, despite all accusations of brutality towards you, I haven't managed to break you yet." Killian still hopes for a smile from the princess, and, this time, there is a small one, although she still seems more sad than amused.
"I suppose. Well, let's keep walking."
There's nothing else for it, but to follow her as she stands up and sets off. It's clear that she is still disappointed, although he is unsure if she is disappointed in herself, the bird who couldn't fly, or him. Perhaps all three. Perhaps she will remain unhappy until such time as they eventually return home and she can see her mother again.
Killian hopes she won't because, as much as he may have wished that she was some inanimate object, she is far from being one and infinitely more interesting to him as a result.
"Of course," she says, over her shoulder as she walks towards a clearer patch between the trees up ahead. "If you tread on my feet again, you might have to carry me."
"I would assume nothing less. Emma."
There's silence from the princess for a few moments, and then she stops and pivots to face him, her face now sporting a broad smile of triumph. "Of course not. Killian."
And then, almost before he has a chance to return her smile, she turns around again and starts walking. "We'll have to talk about the pillow situation later, though," she says. "Perhaps you might like to think about catching one of those birds?"
"I'm sure they will be a poor substitute for you. It seems a terrible step backwards, from a princess to a parrot who can't even be arsed flying anywhere."
She laughs, loud and sudden and there's a corresponding familiar squawk from somewhere up above their heads.
No, he thinks. It wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable a journey without the possibility he might make her laugh like that again. And he doesn't even care to speculate whether Liam would be capable of doing the same.
Perhaps it isn't so bad after all that she's a real girl and not a statue, after all.
A/N The bird in this chapter is based on the kakapo, a flightless parrot native to New Zealand. I've also, in previous chapters, added in some landscape details based on parts of NZ, just because I can!
Thanks for reading!