Iggy whispered Fang's name in the whisk of the moment. It sort of sounded like a condemned prayer, drooping off his lips like tears. Like wax off a burning candle. Iggy was felt low and isolated at the moment he half expected Fang not to catch it. To the naked eye, people would have seen nothing. Even Max couldn't, and would not, see it.

But Iggy felt Fang tilt his head just a bit, the tendons surging threw his own body like static. It left sparks and tingles erupting threw his body; the given warning and invitation. Iggy shivered. He knew, with that, Fang knew just what he'd done. Or what he hoped he didn't. And if Fang asks, Iggy would say no. He didn't dare call his name.

They had landed with no problems.

"Why is it snowing?" Max asked, shuffling her feet into the cold dirt. Iggy knew well enough not to answer, and he guessed, so did Fang. But that doesn't mean his witty ass isn't going to hold back.

"I don't know, Max. Maybe because it's cold?" Fang said. Iggy heard him sit next to the sleeping forms of the younger. It wasn't too late, but they were tired. Iggy didn't blame them. He, himself, felt the ache in his wings and the heaviness in his eyelids.

"No, Fang," Max answered patiently.

"It's spring," She said in awe.

"It can snow in spring, can't it?" Fang breathed.

Iggy presumed Max gave him the bird. "Whatever."

Iggy placed his head on the icy dirt floor and wished for a nice sleep. Which with his life, he probably wouldn't get. He thought about Fang instead.

---

Iggy's eyelids fluttered unwillingly. He didn't want to wake; the effervescent and colorful dreams couldn't have ended so early. So he didn't move. But he still opened his eyes, getting ready for the next hectic day of his life. But there wasn't a problem or dilemma. There was just Fang, who had sat next to him.

Iggy didn't feel too much expression or distinguishable features come across his face. The only thing he could feel was the strong beat of his dear friend's heart. It was beating in a regular avian motion—right along with his own. It was so vibrant and clear, like Fang had leapt out of his own dreams into his reality. Iggy could have mistaken the feel of his own chest against his. So didn't dare move from the cold floor, in fear it might end.

"Why did you call my name?" Fang asked quietly.

"I didn't," Iggy said, just as planned. He kept his breathing in a standard motion. He could act this out. Like a masquerade—a masked opera. Except this was much, much, easier. Right?

Iggy couldn't tell Fang what he was thinking about. He would think Iggy was stupid and childish. It made him cringe.

Fang sighed in response. "You're all quiet. Just talk, man."

Iggy knew he had been silent lately. He was thinking. Just thinking.

"I'm just tired. Tired of moving," He lied.

"All of us are," Fang began, sounding impassive. Iggy didn't know why.

"But c'mon. Why don't you say something to Gaz? He might not admit it, but he misses you, Ig," Fang placed his hand on Iggy's shoulder. A moderate, normal, Fang like gesture.

"No," Iggy shook his hand off, feeling pestered and controlled. But oddly, he wondered why that one touch still lingered and coveted.

"Wanna' arm wrestle? You loose, you talk?" Fang pestered further. Iggy knew neither would win. Fang and Iggy both had the moderate bird kid strengths. If it wasn't for Iggy's seeing problem, they would be each the other's equal.

"I'm tired," Iggy replied, turning over. He was not giving into his own selfish intentions.

There was a long, awkward silence. Iggy almost felt bad... until Fang tugged him to his feet.

"Let's take a nice, long, walk." Fang said under his breath.

Iggy guessed Fang wasn't so quiet today.