It took his household exactly seventy minutes to catch him.
"Why were you out here, Sonic?"
He glares up from his forced kneeling position, scowling at the man as he carefully picks his words.
He wishes he could lie. He's wished so before, but perhaps less than would be expected. It's just another strange thing about him.
"I want to travel." It's not a lie. He loves exploring, and he would consider it a major bonus to leaving.
The man gestures for him to continue. "I've seen every inch of our territory. I want to see something new." It's a little hyperbolic, but accurate enough to his feelings to not be a lie.
"And so you snuck out in the middle of the night?"
"You would have stopped me." It's not a lie. He just doesn't mention that they would have other reasons for doing so.
No, the real reasons he left are making good use of his distraction, and have probably reached the gate by now. At least, he hopes they have.
"Hm." The man narrows his eyes at him. "And if we hadn't, would you have returned on your own?"
He freezes. Damn it. That's a yes-or-no question. "No."
"Interesting. Tell me, Sonic, if you know every inch of our territory, then why weren't you heading for the closer gate?"
No. He doesn't answer. He knows it's over, but he can at least stall him. Give the kids a chance to get away.
"Sonic, if I went down to the nursery, what would I find?"
He knows. "Beds. Tables. Chairs. Carpets." He's determined to get in one last bit of rebellion before whatever punishment he'll be given for this. It can't make things much worse.
"And how many children?"
He doesn't answer.
"I'm disappointed in you, Sonic." The man shakes his head. "But you're young, and foolish. It doesn't seem fair to simply send you to the dungeons for the rest of your days. So I'll give you a choice. Either accept our justice, or..."
He leans a bit closer. "Promise that you will never reveal your true identity, or the existence of the Fair Folk."
"What?"
"Well? This is what you wanted, isn't it? Exile into that world of liars and fools?"
That's true. He hates to admit it, but it's true. And it's a much better deal than rotting in those oubliettes. "I promise."
"Good." The guards holding him suddenly raise their swords. "Make sure he keeps that promise. Then dump him in some backwater. I'll find the brats." The man turns to leave.
Panic begins to blossom. "Father -"
Then, the world explodes into pure pain, and he's unconscious.
He wakes up the next day, in the recovery room of a town clinic. It's immediately obvious what they did.
The doctor says that someone found him passed out in the middle of the road, a few miles out of town. He's been asleep for about a day.
Suppressing his dread, Sonic asks him for some food, and a mirror.
They must have healed him. His skin has sealed over the stumps where his wings used to be without so much as a scar, as if the wound was years old (or as if he never had any to begin with). The only thing that breaks the effect is the unnatural sharpness of the protrusions, where a thin layer of flesh covers broken bones.
Why didn't anyone say anything about that?
Sharpness. A thought occurs to him as he nervously runs his hands over his unkempt hair. It's thick, shiny, tough, and oddly sharp – the consistency of blue steel wire. His tail is short, and curves slightly upwards, like a deer's tail. If he shaves it, and styles his hair in just the right way, then with these stumps, he could just about pass for a young, slightly uncanny-valley looking hedgehog.
"I'm Sonic," he says experimentally. "Sonic the Hedgehog." It's a trick he learned a while ago – if he splits the sentence in two, the structure leaves just enough wiggle room to pass.
He ventures a smile. That's one part taken care of. He might just about be able to live here.
Also, this chilli dog thing tastes amazing. He'll have to get some more of those.
It takes Sonic a little while to get used to walking without his wings to counterbalance him. He plays it off as disorientation from his injuries.
It takes him longer to get used to not being able to fly.
But he still has his speed. A little experimenting shows that he can use his glamours, although he can't do much without his promise stopping him. A little unintentional experimenting shows that he still heals quickly, too.
Over the course of a few years, he adjusts. He likes being a Mobian. It feels good to be able to travel anywhere he wants in this massive world.
And, as he finds eventually, it feels good to defend his adoptive home.
Even without flight or illusion, his speed is more than enough to destroy a few robots. He takes to heroics well. It makes him feel like his existence is improving the world, in stark contrast to his previous life.
Robotnik is familiar in many ways, and different in many more. He hates him, but it does give him some cathartic pleasure to be able to outright fight a would-be dictator. He almost doesn't mind when the doctor gets away in the end.
The elated Mobians offer him all kinds of rewards. He rejects most of them out of altruism (and the fact that altruism is no longer a foreign concept makes him feel warm in a way he can't describe), with the exception of one – a small biplane, which he names the Tornado. It means he can travel without having to get on a boat.
And when he's up there, he can almost forget the loss of his wings.
"Never trust a kitsune, Sonic. Unlike us, they can lie to you, and they're far better at it than Mobians."
It's a good thing he was never one to listen to his parents.
Well, to be fair, although he can clearly see that Miles is a kitsune, the boy doesn't know himself. And it's not like he can tell him, either, because of that promise. He's really starting to hate that promise.
It's not entirely surprising that he doesn't know. It happens occasionally. Fae children are abandoned by their parents, for whatever reason – a bet, a bargain, even a game – and grow up without knowledge of their identity. Usually, their magic clues them in, but this is a tortured street kid, and most of his magic is probably being used to keep him alive.
Sonic is trying to change that. It's not easy.
He pulls the kid close as he crouches in the hollow of a large oak, muffling the small whimpers. The taunting cries of the hunting party echo overhead. For Miles' sake, he masks his own fear – while kitsune lack a good number of the Fair Folk's typical weaknesses, he doesn't, and iron weapons are one of the few things he actually fears.
Miles stifles a yell as footsteps pass far too close to them. Sonic smoothes down the windswept fur on his head, trying desperately to soothe him. It's not working.
The thumping and shouting grows a little fainter as they pass, and the kitsune, clinging to him, lets out a quiet sob.
"Shh. It's gonna be okay, Tails," he whispers in response, gently returning the hug.
The affectionate nickname calms the kid fractionally. "I-I didn't think t-they'd really -" He's cut off when one shout rises above the rest, clear enough to be understood.
"Get out here, you demon!"
Miles can't stop himself from yelping. Sonic can't blame him. The noise gets a little louder.
"M-make it stop, Sonic." He's shivering with fear, so badly he can barely speak now.
Sonic can't respond. His mind is racing. The Tornado is broken, crashed on the beach. He can't get off this island without repairing it. Miles could repair it – that was how he had met the kid, when he had found him happily buried headfirst in the engine compartment, and watched in mild horror as he begged for mercy and insisted that he only wanted to fix it. But he didn't have the tools, and he can't get them now. The people on this island hate "demons", and by extension, those who help them.
He's stuck. They aren't going to relent until Miles is -
Until Miles is -
The part of his brain shaped by his childhood has a flash of inspiration.
He looks down at the terrified kitsune. Chances are, though he hasn't checked, he still has the ability. If he's careful, he can pull it off without breaking the promise. Miles is young, and prefers his nickname.
On the other hand, it might just be the most evil thing he can do.
But that's okay, isn't it? It's okay to use a power like that to save someone. It's just the kind of thing his family would have hated.
He can't think of any other solution. He has to save this boy. Out of everyone he's met, Miles might just be his first friend.
"Tails?"
He looks up, startled. "Y-Yes?"
Sonic pauses, choosing his words carefully. "I... I know a trick. To... to make people go away." Not quite a lie, in this scenario, although he's cutting it close. "I'm gonna need you to say something, and then we're gonna run, okay?"
Miles nods nervously. A pit of guilt forms in Sonic's stomach at his determined, tearstained face.
"I'm gonna need you... to give me your name."
"Miles Prower." He gives it without hesitation, and Sonic takes it.
The sounds fade. ~~~~~ blinks in confusion. "What was -"
"Okay, ready, Tails?" Sonic speaks quickly, not giving him time to think about it.
"Ready." ~~~~~ Tails answers to the name, making it his. Sonic grabs him and leaps from the hollow, running as fast as he dares carrying a kid, away from the mob.
Tails is nestled in his arms, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn't see the way the people slow down, and start talking to each other, confused, as if they had simply forgotten what they were doing.
About a week after they leave the island, it happens. Sonic obtains some money through various chores, and buys Tails a toy – a little stuffed bear. Tails' eyes light up when he sees it, literally. Kitsune are shapeshifting tricksters by trade, after all.
It's actually rather adorable. Less adorable is Tails' reaction to it. Young, untrained shapeshifters have a tendency to let their emotions determine their form.
Four hours later, the jagged horns disintegrate, and Tails passes out in his arms.
He wakes up the next morning sobbing for his unknown parents. Sonic calms him with some candy, and carefully coaxes him to try and control his power.
Tails is understandably hesitant, but eventually closes his eyes and focuses. His form flickers, and a pair of little gold wings appear on his back. He manages to hold them there for a few seconds, before they collapse.
He opens his eyes. There's a new light in them now, one that isn't supernatural in nature.
Tails takes to shapeshifting like a duck to water. He's so good that Sonic theorises that his flight power was a subconscious use of it. Within a few days, he's turning into every animal he sees, camouflaging himself in trees to pounce on his big brother (a title Sonic didn't expect, but is starting to like) playfully, and even managing a passable imitation of the supposed hedgehog himself.
When Robotnik shows up again, he doesn't stand a chance.
Echidnas. They're something of a legend among the Fair Folk. The keepers of the Master Emerald. Powerful, connected to the power of Chaos more deeply than any other race, and unusually unsubtle, choosing to live on a floating island in the Mobian world instead of the safety of the fae lands.
Their power was respected. Their strategies were taught in schools, as examples of what not to do.
Sonic never thought he'd get to meet one.
When the fighting's over, and they get properly acquainted, it turns out that Knuckles doesn't know that much about his heritage, comparatively speaking. He knows what he is, what he can do, and what he can't. Tails is quite curious to know about the inability to lie or break promises, and the weakness to iron. He finds it scientifically fascinating.
Sonic feigns interest, but he has other things on his mind. Like how frustrating it is that he can't fill in the gaps for his little brother and new friend. Like what it would mean for his promise if Knuckles had recognised him. Like the fact that Robotnik had known to use the weaknesses of iron and promises against him, and could easily have done the same to Sonic, if he had only known.
It's a wake-up call, to say the least.
He thought that he could just ignore his past. That he could live as a Mobian for the rest of his life. But he really is going to have to stay paranoid.
And that hurts more than any iron.
Sonic recognises Amy as soon as he meets her.
He's seen her before, back at home, when it was his home. She was a stolen child, raised as a member of a Fair Folk household, just like the kids he had sacrificed his wings for.
He wonders what they're doing now.
Unlike him, she isn't bound by a promise. She's a Mobian, after all, despite everything.
"I ran away," she explains one day, while they sit around a campfire. "They took me when I was pretty young, so I didn't remember my real parents. It took me a long time to find out where I came from."
"Did you find them?" asks Tails with fascination.
She sighs sadly. "Time moves differently in there. When I left, I was still a kid, but it had been hundreds of years."
Tails slumps, and scoots over to give her a sympathetic hug. She smiles faintly. Sonic's concern for the kids leaps.
"It's not all bad. I did find my family – I guess I'd be their great-aunt, really." She laughs. "Weird thought. But they've been great. And hey, at least I have my magic, right?"
She snaps her fingers, and a ball of pink light appears in her hand. In response, Tails shows her one of his favorite tricks, and mimics her colour scheme. Soon, Sonic and Knuckles join in, and there's a little magic show around the campfire.
She doesn't recognise him. That's probably a good thing.
One day, Sonic wakes up in his house. He goes downstairs, and starts making some scrambled eggs (ever since meeting Tails, he's gotten good at cooking). He greets his brother as he stumbles blearily into the kitchen, and shoves a plate under his nose to wake him up.
After breakfast and a quick shower, he runs into the city to pick up a delivery of some plane parts. On the way back, Amy waves him down, and they talk for a while – not really about anything specific, just catching up.
After dropping off the parts, he decides to go for a run. He picks a direction at random, and ends up going over a mountain range. When he pauses on the highest peak, to rest and admire the view, he notes Angel Island in the distance. It's very close to the shore – Knuckles wouldn't have dared to bring it so close a few years ago.
As he sits, his hands automatically drift to his wing stumps. He recalls flying over the mountains of his home territory, over and over, looking for something new. He never found anything.
And in the end, he would always have to return to the household. And then, it was an eternity of scheming. Learning to lie without lying, to manipulate, to steal everything from a person in a few minutes, including free will.
It had never felt like home.
He decides to try something.
"I'm Sonic the Hedgehog."
It's not a lie.