Gerta felt a pang of something that wasn’t jealousy, but was at least a little like it. “Oh?” she said, keeping her voice carefully neutral. “In the woods,” said Mousebones, gesturing toward the line of trees off to their left. “She lives there with her flock.” Gerta’s first instinct, rapidly squelched, was to walk away from the forest. That’s stupid. We’re friends, that’s all, and he’s allowed to have other friends. She aimed her feet toward the trees. “Do you think she’ll let us stay for the night?” “I stayed for weeks,” said Mousebones. “She healed up my wing and fed me dead mice.” “…hopefully she’ll have something for humans to eat, too.” It occurred to Gerta that Mousebones might prefer to spend the winter in the care of a healer who fed him dead mice. She felt an odd wash of cold from the center of her chest at the thought. He’s not my pet. If he wants to stay there, he can. And if the thought of not having him around to hunger after my eyeballs makes me feel a bit like crying…well, that’s my problem, not his. Aloud, she said only “It’ll be warmer there than it will be in a ditch, I’m sure.”
What do You think about The Raven And The Reindeer?
