We headed north along the road leading from the mansion. It was the beginning of a nice day, as far as I could tell. The dew still glistened on the grass, birds chirped noisily, and the sun was beginning to poke out from behind the trees. I stretched my wings out straight behind me to decrease the drag I was causing.
"I didn't want to say anything about your wings," Logan joked, referring to our sudden increase in speed.
"What? Was I ruining the ride?" I joked back. We rode for miles along small highways trying to avoid traffic and peoples second glances at me. Finally we stopped at a gas station.
"So, do we know where we're going yet?" I asked Logan and jumped off the motorcycle to stretch my legs.
"Not a clue. Any ideas?"
"I'm kinda hungry, let's go eat."
He nodded and finished filling the tank. Soon, we were off and were headed for more trouble than we bargained for.
We pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of Jim's Diner. We parked the bike and Logan stopped and sniffed the air.
"What? What is it?" I asked, looking over his shoulder.
"Trouble," he replied as if trouble was an everyday thing.
"Cool," I said indifferently. "Let's go, I'm hungry." I said and jumped off. "You comin?" I asked and looked back at Logan. He sat as if he was just told the meaning of life.
"Yeah," he said slowly and got off. He followed me into the dreary diner and we waited to be seated. Logan looked around and sniffed the air again.
What is it? I thought. What the hell is his problem?!
The waitress came, looked at me funny, and quickly brought us to our seats. "Uh, ju-just a moment," she stammered and hurried off into the kitchen.
"Aah, c'est la vie," I joked and gently leaned back. "So what is it? What do you smell?"
"I dunno yet, but I don't like it."
"Oh relax, there there's all of 4 people here including us. Besides I can kick their butts."
Logan chuckled and shook his head.
"So chill, OK? You're making me nervous."
Logan sighed and nodded. I analyzed the menu and he drummed his fingers on the table. "What's taken that lady so flamin long?" he asked impatiently.
Just then, the waitress returned with a nasty lookin cook and a nasty lookin shotgun. "Look," the cook said. "We don't want any trouble All w ask izat winged freak leave."
I rolled my eyes and looked at Logan who was fuming. "Fine!" I groaned, and got up quickly from me seat. Too quickly perhaps, because the cook shot me in the right wing. I gasped and fell to the floor on my stomach. Logan sprang up too, popped his claws and sliced the shotgun in half. The cook and waitress whimpered and dashed back into the kitchen.
"Crow!" Logan cried, and knelt down beside my head.
"Ow," I groaned in response.
"Can you get up?"
I nodded and grimaced as Logan helped me up by my shoulders. Blood poured out of my wing and feathers were scattered everywhere. Logan grabbed a coat that hung on a coat rack by the door ad bandaged it as best he could. Soon, we were back on the road, speeding to the mansion.
"I didn't want to say anything about your wings," Logan joked, referring to our sudden increase in speed.
"What? Was I ruining the ride?" I joked back. We rode for miles along small highways trying to avoid traffic and peoples second glances at me. Finally we stopped at a gas station.
"So, do we know where we're going yet?" I asked Logan and jumped off the motorcycle to stretch my legs.
"Not a clue. Any ideas?"
"I'm kinda hungry, let's go eat."
He nodded and finished filling the tank. Soon, we were off and were headed for more trouble than we bargained for.
We pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of Jim's Diner. We parked the bike and Logan stopped and sniffed the air.
"What? What is it?" I asked, looking over his shoulder.
"Trouble," he replied as if trouble was an everyday thing.
"Cool," I said indifferently. "Let's go, I'm hungry." I said and jumped off. "You comin?" I asked and looked back at Logan. He sat as if he was just told the meaning of life.
"Yeah," he said slowly and got off. He followed me into the dreary diner and we waited to be seated. Logan looked around and sniffed the air again.
What is it? I thought. What the hell is his problem?!
The waitress came, looked at me funny, and quickly brought us to our seats. "Uh, ju-just a moment," she stammered and hurried off into the kitchen.
"Aah, c'est la vie," I joked and gently leaned back. "So what is it? What do you smell?"
"I dunno yet, but I don't like it."
"Oh relax, there there's all of 4 people here including us. Besides I can kick their butts."
Logan chuckled and shook his head.
"So chill, OK? You're making me nervous."
Logan sighed and nodded. I analyzed the menu and he drummed his fingers on the table. "What's taken that lady so flamin long?" he asked impatiently.
Just then, the waitress returned with a nasty lookin cook and a nasty lookin shotgun. "Look," the cook said. "We don't want any trouble All w ask izat winged freak leave."
I rolled my eyes and looked at Logan who was fuming. "Fine!" I groaned, and got up quickly from me seat. Too quickly perhaps, because the cook shot me in the right wing. I gasped and fell to the floor on my stomach. Logan sprang up too, popped his claws and sliced the shotgun in half. The cook and waitress whimpered and dashed back into the kitchen.
"Crow!" Logan cried, and knelt down beside my head.
"Ow," I groaned in response.
"Can you get up?"
I nodded and grimaced as Logan helped me up by my shoulders. Blood poured out of my wing and feathers were scattered everywhere. Logan grabbed a coat that hung on a coat rack by the door ad bandaged it as best he could. Soon, we were back on the road, speeding to the mansion.