When I woke up the next morning, I was excited to see I wasn't screaming or sobbing. I had an unusual dream, a good one, not a bloody, scary one. Jeb was in the kitchen cooking up some eggs and toast for the flock. Dylan was watching the cooking channel on TV with Iggy. Every time the chef said "like this," Dylan would explain to Iggy what he did.
"Morning, mutants and Jeb!" Gazzy said, yawning and stretching as he walked out of his bedroom.
"Hey kiddo! Did you gave a good nights sleep?" I asked, sitting him on my lap and kissing his cheek.
"Uh yeah it was pretty good," he yawned. "I was up pretty late."
"Huh. Why?" I asked, pushing hair out of his eyes.
"Uh... Y'know, just 'cause..."
Like I was going to believe that. "Gazzy. Explosives, please?"
Hes a nine-year-old mutant bird kid with an addiction to explosives. How much more normal could it get? He grumbled and took out a pin-sized bomb. "Jeb, more for the bomb box!" I called, sliding it to the opposite end of the table.
Jeb picked it up and held it against the light. "This is tiny!" he said, taking out the box of bombs that had been taken away in the past 10 months. There was even one the looked like a pen. "Let's go stretch our wings, kids!" I said, standing Gazzy up and walking down the hall to wake up Angel and Nudge. They were already awake. "c'mon, guys, we're going out for a morning fly!" I said. They were sitting on the bed together, holding a tin.
"Max, look at this," Nudge said weekly. I sat down on the bed with them. It was a tin of Fang's stuff... Notes, pictures, even toys and objects we played with and used as a kid. And somethig I had never seen before.