Flight School: Prey

Friendly Foe

A/N: Why, this is very long. 

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Friend or foe—

I don't know.

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The unsettled rain that clouded the sparrow's mind was not one that would vanish as quickly as it had come. It manifested in his anxious eyes that darted every now and then at a rustling bush or falling leaf that was the result of a mere breeze.

Io was sure, then—that he was worried about Luka.

What exactly was he upset about?

Was it a sheer instinct of fear that incited unnecessary emotions? And was he to trust them?

The prey's thoughts—in the midst of their unraveling—paused to coil back into a messy ball underneath the bed of his mind when he was offered a chocolate energy bar.

Slayne had produced the snack out of his own bag of rations, tore the wrapping in a swift, soundless movement, and given it to Io without much of a smile or a frown.

The sparrow accepted it gratefully, ensuring that Pipa was leaning safely against a tree as support before taking a bite of the tasteless bar.

He touched her hand.

It wasn't as cold as before.

A weak wave of relief lapped against his heart and Io promised—to no one in particular—that everything was going to be just...fine.

Well, but that was until he heard a falcon's call from the skies above—which again, sent him into a jittery frenzy of panic.

The snowy owl hushed him, stretching out a hand in Io's path to stop him from going anywhere.

Soon enough, Dimitri made an unnecessarily garish and flamboyant landing that consisted of nothing but a flurry of striped hazel feathers; followed by the appearance of the human form of what seemed to Io more like a golden statue than anything else.

Of course, he had messy blond hair.

Io didn't know why he associated that to golden statues, but he did. If he asked, Pipa would have said that he wasn't badly built at all.

Built. Built, like how you build a statue but also referring to someone's form at the same time—

Slayne snapped his fingers in front of Io's eyes, chasing away distracting thoughts that often surfaced whenever the sparrow was over-reacting.

Dmitri stepped forward, inspecting the subject of the trade. Yes, to him it was a mere subject that simply happened to have the same number he did—the Ace. After all, he already had his current prey to entertain himself with—

Wait.

No; wait.