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Big the Cat is not used to metal houses. This one is cheerfully painted orange – a little one-story structure that looks more like a garage than a house. The cheerful colors remind him of the sunset, so it doesn’t look as out-of-place against the environment… but it’s still got metal where Big is used to wood. He lives in a forest, he has a log cabin – even the dinner Big brought over is held in wood. It’s just fish stew, nothing special – but he’s carried it here in a very big bowl with a lid he carved to fit just right, to keep the soup hot and make sure it doesn’t splash when he carries. He’s never carried it such a long distance before, but he’s glad it’s holding up. Especially because he’s been walking at least an hour to meet his new neighbors.
Neighbors who decided to live in a metal house, rather than build one from trees. Big doesn’t know what to make of it. But they seem nice.
Big’s not in this part of Mystic Ruins much. It’s past the train station, on a cliff near the beach.
And he can’t help but focus on the fact that it’s metal.
Big thinks he doesn’t mind it, but he doesn’t know how they live in it. How they wouldn’t be kept up at night by the sound of wind against steel. Big’s used to cozy wood cottages that bend with nature because they’re made of nature, rather than fighting against it because it doesn’t belong. But he supposes this one is a long way off from what he’s used to. This house is barely in Mystic Ruins; closer to the train station than to the jungle. That’s probably why it’s easier for it to have so much metal. Easier to transport, if it’s coming in by train. Big’s was easy to chop down and make by himself, but these guys only had to carry the metal a little ways away. He still doesn’t get it, though. They could’ve built it out of stone to match the cliff, or carried wood just a little way off. He doesn’t understand them, but he supposes he doesn’t know them well enough to ask.
He thinks it’s nice to have neighbors, though, even if they’re odd.
Some people might not call them neighbors, since Big had to walk for more than an hour to get here. But he’s not very fast, unlike these two – and he likes the journey. The lake is pretty, and it’s always nice to see the bugs flying around making the flowers grow.
Besides, there aren’t enough neighbors for Big to be picky. Not many people live near Mystic Ruins, and unlike the human explorers who only come for expeditions, these neighbors stay here full time – and look more like him.
Well. Not exactly like him, he thinks.
They’re really little.
He thinks his neighbors might still be kids. They might end up small no matter how old they get, but Big is sure these two are extra small. Especially the little fox. He must still be really young, because foxes and cats usually end up about the same size. Big’s only sixteen, so this one has to be half his age, if that.
That’s why he brought dinner. They’re not so good at fishing. And he worries the little one might not be eating much, if he’s so small for a fox. The bigger one seems pretty young, too. Not that much younger than Big, but young enough that Big’s a little surprised he’s looking out for a fox kit.
Then again, the blue hedgehog’s not here as much as the little fox, so maybe he’s not looking out for him after all. Big sees them separately more than he sees them together, but he’s seen them travel together, too. Once or twice, he saw the hedgehog carry a napping fox back to their house on the cliff. Big thought it was pretty nice of him, since it’s a long way away, and the fox is small but he’s also not that small, compared to a hedgehog.
That’s the other reason Big made them soup. He wants to be nice, since they’re nice to each other. Maybe they’ll be nice neighbors, too.
But he’s knocked for a few minutes now, and no one’s come.
Which is a little strange, since he hears music from inside. More human-like music than the kind Big is used to. Or, city-human. It shakes the walls and gives him energy – it’s not like the kind the explorers make. Their music is more from instruments carved of wood and string, with a lot of singing – though once, he’s seen them pull out harmonicas and hum into them. He thinks most of the explorers probably could use metal instruments if they wanted, but they seem to want to use nature when they’re in nature.
It’s a little silly, since this island used to be full of people more like Big and the hedgehog and the fox. But the more humans came, the less room there was for people like Big. Humans put up trains and ran them every hour since the first train came – which scared a lot of Froggy’s family away. Froggy’s not the only one without a family now, either. Even before Robotnik started expanding and taking over ‘unoccupied’ land, humans have been pushing people like Big onto islands. Big might be one of the only people like him left on this continent. Though… he does remember being a kitten. He remembers seeing others like him.
They aren’t here now.
Big knocks on the door again. Hopes his neighbors feel the same as him; hopes they want to be nice, too.
“Hello?” he calls, because he doesn’t want to be rude. He wasn’t invited – and he’s okay with walking back home if they’re not interested in being neighbors. But he doesn’t like the idea that someone’s home and not responding. Especially when a little kid might live here by himself. “Hello? Anyone home?”
The music gets a little quieter. Then, to his surprise, he hears teeny tiny footsteps, and sees a tiny face poke through the window before ducking abruptly out of sight.
“Hello?” Big asks again, and hopes he hasn’t intimidated the little guy. “I’m here to drop off food for you, neighbor.” When the kid doesn’t respond, Big softens a little. “It’s okay if you’re shy, I’m shy too. But I’m not here to hurt you.”
The tiny face pokes out of the window again. This time, Big gives him a little wave.
Then – the patter of little feet. The door cracks open, and the little fox pokes his sharp little nose out.
“I saw you fishing in the jungle,” the fox says, with very big eyes.
“Yup,” Big confirms. “I saw you too. You and another little guy.”
“You saw Sonic?”
“Is he blue?”
The little fox nods.
Well, that answers one of Big’s questions, but he’s still not sure what the little guy’s name is.
“My name is Big,” he says, and maybe the fox kit will tell him, if he introduces himself first. But if not, that’s okay. At least now the fox knows Big, and can call him something. But a moment passes, and the little fox does not, as it turns out, pick up on the cue to introduce himself. Big decides he doesn’t mind. Instead, he holds the wooden bowl a little further out, for the fox to take if he wants. “Here. For you.”
“What’s this?” he asks, but his nose is already sniffing the air, curious as all growing kids are about new foods. “Why did you bring food?”
“Well… You’re a fox. I’m a cat. We eat similar things,” he says, “So I thought you might like some of my fish soup.”
The little fox looks very hard at the wooden bowl. “I dunno… I’m not s’pposed to take stuff from strangers.”
“Oh,” Big says. “That’s okay then. I can leave.”
For some reason, that makes the fox frown. “Wait, umm… Just a second, okay?” he says uncertainly. And then he closes the door – and Big does, because he doesn’t mind waiting. He’s a patient guy.
A few minutes pass. The music disappears completely, and there’s the sound of metal moving in many rooms inside. Big looks around, getting a better view of the cliff over the ocean. He thinks, maybe it’s not as lonely-looking as he thought. It’s a pretty view. He likes his jungle view, but sometimes he sits on top of the cliff by the ladder and watches the sunset. It might be a nice view from here, too.
He’s lost in thought when the door opens again. Big turns, and the little fox walks through the little doorway – Big realizes that he might not be able to walk through the doorway even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t; he wasn’t invited, so he knows not to come in.
The little fox stands as tall as he can – but he barely comes up to Big’s waist. He looks a lot younger than Big realized. And there’s still no sign of Sonic.
Is he all alone here?
Big remembers what that was like. He doesn’t envy the kid, all alone in a metal house on a cliff. When Big was alone as a kitten, he was alone with all kinds of nature, so it never felt really lonely. No wonder the little fox seems shy.
“It’s fish soup,” Big says again, “And seafood spoils quick, so it’ll only be good for another day or two. It’s good soup though. Lots of protein.”
The little fox looks at the bowl again. “Okay,” he finally says, still uncertain, but more confused than wary. “But – why?”
Big shrugs. “We’re neighbors, aren’t we?”
The little fox’s tail – oh, tails? – swish behind him nervously. “You live pretty far away just to bring me food. Lots of people would only go that far for a mean trick.”
“It’s not that far.”
“Maybe not for you. You’re big.”
The little fox looks up at him, and has to bend his neck back quite a bit to fully see his face. Big smiles at him; tries not to think about how small he is to be home alone. “I am Big,” he agrees. “And you are?”
The little fox pulls one of his tails to his chest. The other swishes against the concrete patio, uncertainly thumping it. “...Tails.”
Big smiles down at him; nods slowly. “Makes sense,” he says, because he’s always liked straightforward names. That’s why he called his friend Froggy, since Froggy couldn’t tell him otherwise. Though, it did sometimes make it confusing when there were a lot of people that a name could apply to. He guesses that’s why so many of their kind use species when describing each other. Big the Cat, Honey the Cat. Big the Bird, Honey the Bee.
Though, some of them have started taking more human last names. The ones in the cities or bigger islands especially. He guesses it makes sense – they usually wear more human clothes, too. Big doesn’t think he could picture himself in any of their clothes. Maybe what the explorers wear, because at least most of them protect their hands and feet with sturdy boots and gloves… and their extra clothes look pretty protective, too. But Big’s been fine without that extra protection all his life. All he needs are sandals and some gloves to protect him from the rub of a metal fishing rod.
Tails, like him, doesn’t wear much either. His hands and feet are still growing, not yet the lanky, too-big paws that often come with growing up, before young bodies have time to grow into them.
It’s not just Tails’s hands and feet that are small, though. It’s all of him. He looks tiny, all alone out here. Big doesn’t know how to feel about that. So he makes his mind up to check in with him again. He won’t intrude today – but he decides, then and there, to visit Tails every few days. Just in case. Maybe he won’t need to, maybe he won’t, if he learns that the little fox really is okay. But until then, he thinks it might be good to look after him a little.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tails,” BIg says. “You can keep the bowl for a little while, while you finish. I can pick it up a few days from now.”
Tails looks up at him with big eyes. “You’re leaving already?”
“Yup. If you want. Since you don’t know me, I don’t want to scare you.” Big looks past the fox, into the windows of the metal house. “Or I could stay until your…” He frowns. Dad clearly isn’t the right word. And they aren’t the same type, so would siblings be the right word? “...Sonic is back.”
Tails doesn’t pick up on the question. Big doesn’t mind, he guesses it’s not important, as long as the hedgehog checks in on him sometimes. “He’ll be back by nighttime,” Tails says, like it’s a promise. “He’s just on a run… I think.”
“He’s pretty fast,” Big says. “Guess he has to run pretty often to stay that fast.”
Tails nods seriously. “He’s the fastest person who ever lived.”
Big can believe it. “Okay,” he agrees. “And he’s always back by night?”
That gives Tails a little pause. “Well,” he says, frowning a little. “Not always. And he doesn’t really sleep over much. But he stops by a lot of the time. He takes me with him if he’s gonna be gone a long time, too. Or I stay with Knuckles on Angel-”
Suddenly, he puts his hands over his mouth like he’s said something wrong.
“Umm,” Tails says. “I can’t tell you that.”
“That’s okay,” Big says, and tries to reassure the kid by changing the subject. He glances through the window, and notices that it’s a very small kitchen. Nothing’s out suggesting food preparation – and the fruit bowl is empty. Big frowns, just a little. “Are you hungry?”
Tails eyes the bowl of soup for a little longer. “Umm… a little. You said it’s fish?”
Big nods. “Yup.”
Since it’s so close, Tails peeks closer, and gently slides the lid off the bowl. Big holds it steady, careful not to spill it. It’s an awful lot of soup – definitely more than the two of them can eat at once.
“It smells good,” Tails says, and he looks less confused and more hungry now that he’s seen it up close.
“It tastes good too.” Big smiles. “We can have some while we wait.”
With that, Tails nods. “I mean, you don’t have to wait until Sonic gets back,” he says. “I don’t know if Sonic would be okay with you coming in…”
“I like eating outside. And your doorway looks pretty small for me.”
Tails rubs the back of his head apologetically. “Sorry. We really only thought about people Sonic’s size and me…”
“That’s okay.” Big’s not really used to people considering him, it doesn’t bother him that a kid didn’t take his geometry into mind when building this house. Though he’s still a little off-put by the metal house. The only unnatural structure in this area, alongside the train. Yet, instead of humans, it was built by people like him. It still confuses Big, a little, how anyone could be comfortable living in a metal house. “We can eat out here. Just need spoons and bowls.”
Tails doesn’t look totally sure yet. Big takes the pressure of decision-making off of him by taking a seat on the porch, in the direction that faces the cliff and ocean. It really is pretty. He hasn’t seen the ocean in too long… he really should come out here more. Even just to fish.
Tails disappears while Big is getting comfortable. He comes back a few minutes later, looking wary and shy again. Which is okay – Big doesn’t mind sitting with him and letting Tails decide for himself what he’s comfortable with, since he’s a kid, and Big’s older and a stranger.
It’s probably good that he’s wary, even though Big doesn’t mean any harm. Lots of humans mean harm, and even some other kinds of people like them. Bullies exist everywhere, so it’s better not to trust the wrong people.
Especially since Tails is so small.
Big helps him scoop out two bowls, and hands one to Tails, who accepts it gratefully.
They sit in silence for a long while, just watching the sun slowly, slowly creep towards the coastline.
Then, Tails breaks the quiet.
“So… have you always lived in the jungle?”
“Yup,” Big says.
Tails nods, looking serious. “You have a house too, right?”
“Yup.”
“We just made this one. It was my design, so I hope it works okay,” Tails says. Suddenly shy and self-conscious, he looks around his house. “Did you make yours too?”
Big looks at the little fox again. Hm. He must like metal an awful lot, to choose this for his house. But Big looks past it, and answers him as best as he can.
“The first one, older people helped me make,” he says. “When I got older, I made it again myself.”
Tails’s eyes brighten a little. “You built a whole house by yourself? Without blueprints?”
“I guess I did.”
“And it’s still standing? How long ago did you make it? When it’s windy sometimes I worry mine’s gonna just blow away, how do you keep yours in place?”
“It’s not so windy in the jungle,” Big says.
Tails must have a dozen more questions – but Big can only hear the way he’s right to think this house is out of place. He’s sad to learn that it’s as uncomfortable for them as he thought. Some people like them can live in apartment buildings without trouble, some don’t seem to miss nature at all. But Big wonders if they’re really doing okay, if it ever really feels like home. He wonders if Tails really feels at home among machines like this, or if he, too, needs the warmth wood and stone provides.
So he asks.
“Is it okay, living here?” Big asks, looking at the garage. “When it’s not windy?”
Tails just blinks at him – clearly surprised. “Well, when it’s not windy,” he agrees, “Yeah, I really like it! I like looking out at the sunrise when I wake up and I like having the Tornado with me! It’s like getting ready to fly every time I look outside, the sky and the ocean just go on forever!”
Big thinks, that’s nice, and he’s glad that Tails loves the world around him. But he thinks that’s not really an answer. “And living in the house?”
“Oh… Uh,” Tails starts, scratching his head. “Yeah, it’s good. It’s the first house I’ve lived in since Sonic found me two years ago. Garages are really cheap, and it’s the first house I’ve ever built so it’s not perfect, but it’s really good having somewhere to stay. Sonic helped me put it all together, too… So I guess it wasn’t all by myself, but. I still did it mostly by myself.”
Big nods seriously, thinking a little more about what these two might be to each other. “It must be nice to have a safe place,” he says instead. “I’d be lost without my hut.”
“Yeah, that’s me with my workshop! Plus I get to store all my stuff there, and it stays dry and doesn’t rust so fast when I’m building something,” Tails says. “It was really hard making stuff when we were still on the go, now almost everything I make can survive a rainstorm!” Tails smiles brighter, and Big doesn’t quite know what to think. Especially when the little fox suddenly wavers, tails swishing behind him. “...Sonic’s not a big fan, though.”
Big frowns a little. “Of what you make?”
Tails shakes his head. Then pauses. “Well – I don’t think so… He’s never said he minded my inventions…” he says, frowning a little. “I meant, um, he doesn’t like the house.”
Big nods slowly.
“It’s just… He still likes sleeping outside better. I dunno if he’s ever had a house before, maybe he’s just not used to it?”
“That can be hard on some people,” Big says. “Especially sleeping in a metal house.”
Tails tilts his head to the side. “Why does it matter if it’s metal?”
Big shrugs. “Some of us don’t like metal so much.”
“What? Why?” Tails asks, giving him an intense look. “What’s wrong with metal?”
Tails, who invents and builds things, might not understand yet. But Big isn’t sure if he’s the right one for that conversation. Sonic should talk to him, first. About the reason many people want to distance themselves from metal, after so much of their land’s been taken over by it. Why some of them don’t trust silver structures and gleaming reflections and glass.
But for all that Big doesn’t want to tell Tails any sad stories, Big finds it comforting that he might have some kinship with Sonic.
It’s nice to know there might be a neighbor that understands him a bit better than this little one. Big smiles, looking out at the beach, and thinks of a home that might work well for this environment; one that accepts the cliffside beauty instead of paving over it. He thinks of his own log cabin again and how it blends in with jungle. What blends in with the sky over a setting sun?
He thinks, that’s probably why they painted it orange. But what else can they add onto a cliffside house to make it fit?
But that’s for later, he thinks. They don’t need to add onto their home just to make Big understand them better.
For now, he’s just here for soup. To be a good neighbor.
Big sips at his broth. “It’s okay if you like metal,” he says again. “I just like sleeping in nature, too. But I like having a home that’s part of nature. It’s good to keep out the rain.”
Tails looks a little less worried, then, and Big thinks he’s made him feel better. Good.
“Me too,” Tails says. “I hate getting rained on, my fur takes forever to dry! But I built a fur dryer, so even when I go camping with Sonic, or we get caught in the rain ‘cause of Robotnik, or fly into a storm, I can always come home and dry off.”
Big follows about half of that sentence. But he picks up on the biggest part – the garage, the need to tinker, the way Tails doesn’t mind making machines. How he’s talked about it a lot already. So he asks, because Tails is a kid and he thinks kids like talking about their interests, “Do you like building things?”
It seems like the right question, because Tails’s eyes light up. “It’s what I’m best at,” he says with bright eyes, tails swishing happily behind him. “I wish I could show you more of what I built, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to show blueprints to strangers.”
“That’s okay,” Big says. “Just tell me about them. I’m a good listener.”
Tails brightens even further at the idea of an audience. Then, he tells Big all about the Tornado, and the Tornado 2, and a mech suit, and a way to communicate with Sonic even over a really long distance even if Robotnik tries to mess with radios, and weapons that can take down Robotnik’s armies, and everything else Tails can think of.
Big listens to everything, and thinks – if someone so young was ever going to be so good at reshaping metal, he’s glad it’s a person like him. But he worries, just a little, that even a person like him could still end up hurting what’s left of their natural world.
Big thinks… wherever Sonic goes, and whatever he does in his fight against Dr. Robotnik...
Big hopes that Sonic understands that delicate balance of metal, too.
///
They end up talking and listening for a few more hours, and the sun has nearly reached the coast. Big doesn’t understand much about Tails’s designs, but he does learn a little more about Robotnik.
Big learns why so many of the flickies that usually migrated to Mystic Ruins for the winter have stopped coming back. Why so many of the rickies never returned from hibernation. And why there have been fewer and fewer pickies around; why they haven’t been coming to eat the parts of fish Big doesn’t like.
(“It’s okay, Big,” Tails says, when he asks more about the flickies. “Sonic is really good at breaking Robotnik’s badniks.”
“But the flickies, does it hurt them?”
“Flickies are tough, it just frees them,” Tails insists. “Sonic also taught me how to take care of them after they’re free – we keep a little bit of chow for them, and some water. They’re usually really scared and want to fly away quickly, but if they’re too weak to fly home, they usually let us feed them and pet them until they feel better.”
“And they’re really okay?” Big doesn’t tell Tails that so few have returned to Mystic Ruins. Thinks, maybe, Robotnik’s taken even more than anyone knows. “They really make it home?”
Tails looks a little sad for a moment. “Well… most of them,” he says, softer. “Some of them are really weak. But if they can’t make it, I… I make sure they can find a new family nearby to look after them. Or…”
Big looks at him intensely.
“Or,” Tails quietly says, “I hold them til it’s time to go.”
Big goes quiet for a moment.
And, despite hearing for an hour the weapons Tails has created, this is when Big understands that Tails is an unusually compassionate little fox.)
The sun has almost fully set when there’s a sudden boom behind them. Tails doesn’t flinch, but Big turns his head this way and that to identify the strange, sky-splitting sound.
When he looks back to Tails again, there’s that blue hedgehog again.
“Sonic!” Tails shouts, and Big realizes, he really is that fast. “You’re back early!”
Sonic is quick to scoop the little fox up, toss him in the air, and set him back down to grind his knuckles into the kit’s forehead. When his fur tufts are sufficiently mussed, Sonic releases him, and Tails looks up at him with nothing short of adoration. “‘Course I’m back early, I said I’d be back to make dinner,” Sonic says. “But what’d I say about talking to strangers?”
And that’s when Big realizes that Sonic’s positioned himself firmly between Tails and Big – but has such an easygoing energy that Tails doesn’t realize Sonic’s protecting him. Even Big barely realizes it at first.
He’s not fully sure what to make of it.
“Big’s not a stranger,” Tails says, smiling up at Sonic. He waves at Big, who nods at the pair. “He was in the jungle with us last week!”
“We were at the same place at the same time,” Sonic says, easily correcting him. “By that logic, everyone in the grocery store last week isn’t a stranger.”
Tails frowns a little. “Oh…”
“I brought over soup,” Big says. “But I can go now that you’re back.”
Sonic looks him up and down. “You stayed just to wait for me to show up?”
For most guardians, that might have been a good thing. A way to show that they didn’t leave before the guardian or parent could see them with their kid; a way to show that they were just making sure the kid was okay and had someone looking out for them while the guardian was away.
Instead, Sonic’s quills raise, and he looks more apprehensive than before.
He looks every which way, assessing threats, ears twitching as he tries to pick up on – something. Big isn’t sure what.
Tails notices. Tries to fix it, whatever it is, before Big can ask what he did wrong. “It’s okay, Sonic – I don’t think he’s with Robotnik. He lives out in the Jungle, remember? And he’s like us! I don’t think he’d help the guy who wants to poison our ecosystems and, you know…”
Sonic frowns. “Can’t be too careful anymore,” he says, and gives Big yet another once-over. He rubs at his chin, still unconvinced. “So, Big. What brought you all the way out here? Bit of a walk for you to just be in the area.”
“Soup,” he says. “Since we’re neighbors, I wanted to make sure we got off on the right foot. I made some extra soup, and thought I’d share.”
“Yeah. You said.” Sonic’s frown gets a little more lopsided. “Why?”
“Why not?”
There’s a tense moment – Sonic seems frustrated with Big’s non-answer, but Big isn’t really interested in sharing. Feels a little let down by the dashed promise of kinship; feels silly for thinking they might be friends just for needing to live in nature. But he thinks he understands. If they fight against Robotnik on a regular basis, Big guesses they have a right to be wary of strangers.
So Big will leave without a fight. Even if it means not coming back to check on the little fox.
Big doesn’t want to create more tension than necessary. He’s neither trusting nor untrusting, himself – he just keeps to himself, and treats people as good as they’ll let him. If Sonic’s not interested in having a friendly neighborship, well, that’s for him to decide.
Before Big can say a goodbye and leave though, he hears Tails laugh.
Both he and Sonic turn to look at him; they watch as Tails gasps, turns red, and covers his mouth. He’s clearly trying not to laugh, but he’s not succeeding.
The tension disappears immediately. Sonic huffs, but not unkindly. He leans down a little, ruffling the little fox’s fur. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s just – he sounds like you, Sonic,” Tails says, batting the hands away, but still looking up a little bashfully. “You always ask why not, too!”
“What?” Sonic asks, brows pinching. “When?”
“When you’re trying to be nice! This is what it feels like when you help people!”
Big watches as Sonic goes still. Watches suspicion bleed into an uneasy, unwilling acceptance.
Big wonders – puts the pieces together as best he can. But he isn’t sure he likes the picture it makes. Is Sonic not used to people being nice to him?
That’s a sad thought.
Big pauses for a moment. He’d rather the pair not be any sadder than they have to be. So he decides to do what he came here for, and be a good neighbor. To save himself and Sonic from asking that question. “There’s more soup, if you want it,” he says to Sonic. “We had some, but there’s a lot left.”
Sonic doesn’t answer immediately. But finally, he nods. Slow, and still uncertain, but still a nod. “Tails?” he asks, lightly nudging the little fox in the side. “You wanna do the honors?”
Tails brightens, glad to have a task. “I’ll make three bowls!”
“Only if you’re still hungry,” Sonic says. He smiles in Tails’s general direction as he runs back to the little metal house – but Big can’t help but notice that his eyes never leave Big. That’s when Big realizes it’s on purpose. That Sonic wants a moment alone with him. He’s unreadable, now that Tails has his back turned – Big can’t make out his expression, or figure out his intentions.
Big’s a peaceful guy. He doesn’t plan on fighting, even if that’s what Sonic wants. And he thinks – deep down, Sonic probably doesn’t want to fight, either.
“Big,” Sonic starts, once the door closes, and Tails is out of earshot. “Why did you really come all the way down here?”
“I made extra soup,” Big says – the same story he’s said at least twice now.
“Yeah – I know. That’s what you say.” Sonic shows his agitation this time – there’s no need to dampen it now that Tails is gone. “No one ever… that’s not what people do anymore. That can’t be all there is to it. Why do you want to make us food? Is it – it’s not poisoned, is it?”
Big furrows his brows. “No. It’s fish.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not,” Big says. “It’s carp. Tails said he liked it. I can go if you don’t want me here, though.”
Sonic’s eye twitches, just a little. “No. Whatever this new plan is, whatever Robotnik’s got cooking, it’s not soup.”
“That’s what I’m cooking instead.” Big rests one hand on his hips, looking down at an increasingly frustrated Sonic. “I’m not Robotnik.”
Sonic bristles. Uncomfortable. Big isn’t the best with people, he knows – but even he can tell this isn’t improving things.
“I can leave,” Big says. “I didn’t mean any harm. You can ask Tails anything you want, I don’t think I did anything to upset him. I stayed because just wanted to make sure he’s okay all alone out here.”
“He’s fine with me,” Sonic says, a little too quickly. “I look after him, I always come back.”
“I know. I saw you by the river the other day. He loves you a lot,” Big says, as genuinely as he can. Sonic’s expression is unreadable again, so Big doesn’t push it. Instead, he continues, “You guys are new here. I just wanted to make sure you had something good for dinner.”
“Why?” His nose twitches, then, at the scent of fish soup being reheated. It wafts through the air, and Sonic narrows his eyes, nose twitching despite himself. “I can get him dinner myself. We get on fine by ourselves.”
“I guessed so,” Big says. “But I think it’s what you’re supposed to do when you get neighbors. Bringing them food and all.” He pauses. Then, because he can’t help himself, “And you guys are pretty small. Just wanted to help.”
“Wh- Tails, sure, but I’m a normal size for a hedgehog.”
“If you say so,” Big says. “He’s really little, though.”
Sonic doesn’t argue that. Instead, he crosses his arms tightly over himself. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Sixteen.”
Sonic frowns. “And you live all alone in the jungle?”
“I’m not alone. I’ve got Froggy,” he says. “Just like how you have Tails.”
It’s not a perfect comparison, since Froggy can’t talk and isn’t quite a person the way Sonic and Tails and Big are. But that doesn’t mean Big lives alone. It doesn’t seem to mean much to Sonic though, since Sonic doesn’t know Froggy. Sonic just stares at Big, perplexed, and Big fills him in on the important things.
“He’s my friend,” he explains. “Like Tails is a friend to you. Right?”
Sonic crosses his arms tight. “...Best friend,” he corrects. It doesn’t tell Big everything, like whether Sonic’s the only one responsible for Tails’s wellbeing, or just the one who checks in the most. But it tells him enough. It means Sonic cares, and will probably keep him safe. Which is good, even if Tails was alone most of today.
“Best friend,” Big agrees. Then, the first (and last) probing question he’s willing to ask the little blue hedgehog. “How old are you, Sonic?”
Sonic bristles, and Big knows it was a bad move. He’s prepared to surrender and let it go. But he waits Sonic out, patient as can be, and eventually, Sonic cracks. “...Thirteen,” he says, warily. Almost grumpy that he cracked. “What about it?”
“Then… if you’re thirteen, and he’s little, I don’t think I was bad for wanting to check on you,” he says. Tries not to sound too concerned. “You guys are young, and you only moved here a few weeks ago. I wanted to make sure you were okay out here. Not every thirteen year old can take care of themselves and a little kid. That’s all.”
It, finally, seems to be the right thing to say. Sonic’s quills get less puffed up, and some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. Good. “If you say so,” he finally says. “Whatever. It’s fine you came to see us. Don’t worry about it anymore after this, though.”
“Okay,” he says. “If you want.”
Sonic doesn’t answer that, not yet. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck. His nose twitches again at the smell of the soup, still reheating in the pan. “So. …Soup, huh?”
“Fish soup,” Big confirms.
“It… smells good. I guess.”
“It’s an easy recipe, if you’re patient with it.”
Sonic nods, slow and uncertain. Then –
“...Tails is five,” he says, unprompted. “Turning six. Just so you know.”
“He’s small, for how big he talks,” Big says.
Sonic huffs. Not meanly – just that he must think the same thing. “Tell me about it. But he’s just real smart, that’s all. He’s… mostly the right size for his age, I think – I check whenever we see other younger foxes, but I dunno his exact type. I just know he’s grown a lot since I first found him. He’s a little better now, I think.” He pauses. Looking at Big a little closer. “Do you know how big he oughta be?”
“Maybe a little taller. But as long as he’s eating good stuff and sleeping plenty, he should be okay,” Big says.
Sonic fidgets a little. “What’s good stuff, according to you?”
Big feels strangely grateful for this best friend’s concern, at a chance to share information, something to help. Glad that Sonic has an interest in what Tails should be eating, to grow up big and healthy. “Foxes need a lot of protein to keep growing,” Big says seriously. “Does he eat mostly protein? Or other foods?”
Sonic kicks the dirt, just a little. Almost embarrassed. “Duh,” he says, but won’t look Big in the eye. “We eat lots of protein. We have chili dogs at least a few days a week.”
Big nods, thinking about what they might eat the other days. And thinking that chili dogs themselves aren’t just meat. Foxes, cats, and hedgehogs are all carnivores, almost exclusively – it’s just that hedgehogs can get that meat from bugs instead. Sonic might not know how important the right type of meat is for Tails. Might not know what’s best for people like them at all, if he was never taught. A lot of people aren’t taught the right foods these days, Big thinks.
Then again, he might know, and is just doing his best with the little they have. After all… Sonic looks even smaller for his age than Tails does, despite his claims about being the right size for a hedgehog.
Big hasn’t met many of them – but Sonic barely comes up to his hip. That doesn’t seem quite right. Maybe after this, Sonic might even be able to grow a little himself.
“I can stop by sometimes, with extra soup,” Big says.
Sonic still looks the tiniest bit wary. “Why would you do that?”
“Because no one else is doing it,” Big says plainly. He doesn’t backtrack, not even when Sonic’s ears go pink. “I can even teach you to fish, so you can eat right on your own.”
Sonic looks pleasantly surprised by that. “You’d… really want to?”
Big nods.
Sonic’s brows furrow, just a little.
“I’m not the biggest fan of fish,” Sonic admits, sniffing the air as the warming soup drifts from the window. “But… I guess if Tails is, I can make some. Sometimes. If I learn to fish.”
“I can still make some for you guys. I don’t mind sharing, or the walk,” Big says. “If you’re not here, I can always leave it with Tails.”
A misstep. Sonic bites the inside of his cheek. “And if I’m not okay leaving you with my li’l bro?”
“I don’t have to stop by if you don’t want me to,” Big says. “But he’s nice, and he’s good, even with his machines. I don’t mind checking on him and making sure he has plenty to eat.”
Sonic thinks on that, for a very long time. Then – he seems to notice Big’s phrasing. “Don’t you mean good with machines?”
Big hesitates a moment. Has to struggle for the words. Thinks of the train, and Froggy’s family. Thinks of being one of the last to live in the jungle. Thinks of his own log cabins and traditions, and the way the human explorers don’t know anything about the trails Big has walked his entire life. “No,” he says. “Good, even though he has machines.”
Sonic glances at the little metal garage. “He is good,” he confirms. “But why does it matter to you if he’s got machines, huh?”
“You’ve seen the Red Rocks,” Big says. “It used to be jungle, too.”
Sonic hugs his arms tighter. “...Yeah. I know.”
“There’s a lot of places I notice like that,” Big says. “When I leave the jungle, there’s always something gone when I come back. I think a lot of the world is like that, now. And there’s always metal and machines instead.”
Sonic looks down a moment. Doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.
Big looks at him for a moment. “But if it’s him,” Big says, “It’s okay. It’s good, for people like us to have someone like him.”
Sonic seems to know exactly what he means. But he can’t decide what to think about Big putting it into words. “Just… don’t say stuff like that around him,” Sonic says instead. “He’s like us. Not like them. He’s different. We- We take care of whatever we can save.”
Big nods. “I know. He told me about the flickies,” he says. Kindly as he can. “...But I’ve still never met someone who liked a metal house before.”
“Well, I helped pick it out, so shouldn’t you be mad at me for that, too?”
“I’m not mad,” Big says. “I just don’t understand.”
“Yeah, well-”
“Do you like it?” Big asks, before Sonic can posture again. Sonic seems to deflate a little – looking closed-off and uncertain.
Finally, Sonic just huffs. “That’s not fair, I don’t even like houses in general,” he hedges. “He says it’s cozy enough, he’s got a little bed and kitchen and everything next to his workshop – But. Yeah. It’s more his thing than mine.”
“But you don’t like it.” Big glances back to the metal garage, and Sonic doesn’t disagree. “...You could always make a different house,” Big says. “There’s a lot of room on this cliff. You could make one that’s part of the land.”
“No, we – we don’t really like taking up more room than we need to,” Sonic says. But he looks hard at the roof of the garage – the flat top that probably doesn’t work so well against the rain. “...But maybe I’ll think about it, before it gets cold.”
Big nods, not bothered either way. He’s not the one who has to live in a metal garage. Though it’s a little strange, that one of them chooses not to live anywhere at all. Big thinks he could do it pretty easily, too, since his hut isn’t more than a bed and a way to stay dry, and a place to keep a few bowls and his carefully-dug fire pit.
But Sonic said little brother earlier; and Big’s never seen siblings that live such different lifestyles.
“It’s ready!” Tails shouts on his way out of the kitchen. He’s carrying the huge wooden bowl, and it’s almost too big for him to manage, especially now that it’s hot, has empty bowls and spoons stacked on top of it, and he’s coming such a long way.
Sure enough, he almost trips coming out of the door – and Sonic races over in the blink of an eye to keep him from falling.
He really is fast, Big thinks.
He wonders, a little. There are a lot of ancient tribes who’ve lived in Mystic Ruins. Big isn’t much for history, but he remembers being a kitten. Hearing whispers of the many neighbors his people had over the years – and the ones that came long, long before him.
Big wonders if there was ever a tribe as fast as Sonic is. Or if he’s truly one of a kind.
Instead of asking, Big simply sits down on the ground, and watches as Sonic pours three bowls of soup. One for each of them, piping hot. Sonic doesn’t seem the biggest fan – he really doesn’t seem to like the smell of fish, and he makes a face at the first bite. But he eats it anyway, and grins at Tails. He might be lying when he says, “Woah, this is pretty good!” but Big appreciates it anyway. Not because he needs his ego stroked – but because clearly Sonic thinks it’s worth something, for Tails to like this new source of protein.
To Tails’s credit, he did like it long before Sonic gave it his approval. But Tails seems to glow at the encouragement. “Toldja,” Tails says. He slurps his broth, and Sonic grins bigger. “Guess you don’t hate fish anymore, huh?”
Other, better socialized people, might have thought that was rude in front of a guest who brought them fish. Sonic shoots a glance to Big, but otherwise doesn’t seem to worry about the phrasing. “Well – I don’t hate fish…”
Big isn’t much better than them, because he doesn’t think much of it. “I’m glad you like it, neighbor.”
“Neighbor…” Sonic rubs his chin, thinking about it. Deciding, it seems, if he actually wants to be neighbors. Big braces himself for rejection, though he thinks the soup wasn’t a waste, if he at least got to meet these two properly. He likes knowing that they’re alright, even if he’ll still worry about them being alone out here. He hopes he can still bring over soup, sometimes. “Hmm.”
“What?” Tails asks, slurping down more of his soup. “Big is our neighbor, Sonic, you can’t argue that.”
“Well, he’s certainly your neighbor,” Sonic agrees. “But, I mean. I don’t live here. I don’t live anywhere.”
“You don’t live anywhere,” Big repeats, considering it deeply. Deeper, he thinks, than the others probably realize.
“No.” Sonic’s fingers tighten, just a little, on his soup bowl. “That a problem?”
“No.” Big hasn’t blinked. Hasn’t looked up from him at all. “But if you don’t live anywhere, then you live everywhere, too, don’t you?”
“I guess,” Sonic hedges. “Sure.”
“Then That means everyone’s your neighbor, neighbor,” Big says. “Especially me.”
Sonic quirks a frown. “Why especially you, since I supposedly live everywhere else, too?”
“Good neighbors check on each other,” Big says. Slow and steady. “You look after your buddy Tails – and Tails is my neighbor. And when you check on him, sometimes I’ll see you, too. That means we’re neighbors more than your other neighbors,” Big says. Sonic doesn’t answer yet, looking quite intensely at Big. “...But everyone else is still your neighbor, too. That’s because you look after everyone, if you’re protecting them from Robotnik.”
Sonic just stares at Big for a long, long moment. “...Everyone really is my neighbor then, huh?”
Big hopes he understands his real meaning. Hopes that someday, more people than Big will offer him food, and look after the people he loves, even unasked. Hopes someday, Sonic won’t feel so suspicious of kind gestures.
“I don’t need looking after,” Tails says, breaking tense silence. Not understanding Big’s real meaning. But that’s okay, because the message was for Sonic. It’s okay if Tails doesn’t get it yet. “You guys keep talking about checking in on me, but I’m not a baby! I can look after myself.”
Sonic, grateful for the distraction, cackles. He pushes Tails playfully for breaking the mood; and when Tails spills part of his soup, Sonic’s quick to give him a hair ruffle and half a helping of his own. “Heh. You know what? I think I agree.”
“You do?” Tails asks, eyes suddenly big and hopeful.
“With Big, kiddo,” he teases. “You’re still gonna need looking after for a while. But nah, I just mean… I guess I could be a neighbor. Sorta.” He pauses a moment. Uncertain. “If that could really be the criteria. That everyone else is my neighbor, too.”
Big nods. “If you really live everywhere.”
Sonic smiles a little. “Well then. Guess it’s settled. Put ‘er there, neighbor.”
Big takes Sonic’s hand and pumps it, mindful of how small it is against his own. Sonic really is small – smaller than he keeps expecting. Despite having sat with him for a while now, there’s something about him that makes him feel bigger than he really is. Big is always surprised when he remembers how tiny he is.
Sonic looks up at him after a while. “Thanks,” he finally says. “...For the soup.”
Big nods. Then, he takes the now-empty wooden bowl and covers it with the lid. “I guess I can take it home, now that it’s empty.
“It was nice meeting you,” Big says as he stands. Surveys the two of them, remembers how small they are; how short of a walk it is from his hut, to check on them. “You can stop by my place sometime, too, if you ever need it.”
“You’re leaving already?”
When Tails makes big pouty eyes up at Big, Sonic gently elbows his kid brother. “C’mon pal, say goodnight.”
Tails still looks disappointed, but aside from slumped shoulders, he looks like he’ll recover. He seems like a tough kid. Big rests a hand on top of Tails’s head, the size of his palm dwarfing almost all of the kid’s head. “Goodnight,” Tails grumbles from under Big’s hand.
“Goodnight,” Big says cheerfully.
“It’s your bedtime anyway, squirt,” Sonic teases. “It’s dark out. Remember?”
“Not in front of Biiiig,” Tails whines, lifting Big’s hand off his forehead. “And you know my bedtime isn’t for a whole hour-”
Sonic rolls his eyes. Then, he hip-checks his misbehaving foxling, bumping him a little to the side. “C’mon. Go get ready. I’ll be in in a sec, ‘kay bud?”
Tails only looks marginally betrayed. But he still does as asked, pouting and crossing his arms. It’s a fun change from the little fox who worships his big brother’s every step. Big thinks it’s nice, that they can pout at each other and Tails still loves him so much.
When Tails is out of earshot, Sonic puts his hands on his hips and stares up at Big. “So you really don’t have bad intentions with Tails, huh?” he asks. Still sounding a little baffled, despite their conversation earlier. But Big supposes it’s going to take some getting used to, with Sonic – that some people might have good intentions.
“Or you,” Big says kindly. “I like my new neighbors. Both of them.”
Sonic’s ears pink again, and he doesn’t look like he knows what to do with that.
Big feels a fondness for the little hedgehog already. “Goodnight,” he says warmly. “Take care of each other. I’ll visit sometimes. …But not all the time. Like a good neighbor.”
Sonic nods, slowly. “Alright. And – maybe sometime we’ll come see you, too.”
“I’d like that,” Big says. “You can meet Froggy, then.”
Sonic nods. “I- yeah. That’d be good.” He pauses, still looking a little dazed. “...Night, Big.”
With that, Big waves his final goodbye – then walks back towards the jungle. Back home. It’s dark, but he knows every step of the way. The jungle is his home, and he knows its paths better than any of the human explorers. A little darkness doesn’t worry him.
Still, when he’s a little ways off, he pauses and looks out at the metal house on the cliffside. It really is a garage, as it turns out. A workshop.
Whatever it is, it’s still metal and out of place. But the little fox who lives there isn’t so out of place now that he’s a neighbor. And his big brother, somehow both more and less out of place than the fox, is welcome, too.
Big decides the metal house doesn’t bother him so much.
///
One summer later, there’s a leak in the roof. If it was ever going to leak, Big’s not surprised that it happened in summer – the Jungle always rains, but during summer it’s nonstop. The flat roof isn’t sloped enough to account for the rain either, and before Big even gets close to the little metal house, he has a feeling there’s going to be a few puddles inside.
But even he hadn’t been expecting an ankle-deep flood.
When knocking on the front door doesn’t produce a little two-tailed fox in the doorway, Big walks around to the garage – and finds it open, with a trickle of water following the slope down to the runway. Even having a downward flow, it does little to deter the water welled up in the house.
There is, fortunately, a little fox curled up in the Tornado – Tails isn’t missing, then. Good. Instead, Tails is dead asleep; his breaths fog up the window, cheek smushed against the glass. He doesn’t look comfortable, but when Big notices Tails’s bed in the opposite corner of the little metal house, soaked with water – he’s not surprised he’s sleeping here. The Tornado is at least dry; it’s high enough that it’s been spared from the flood, and has a glass canopy to keep it dry from anything that might leak from the ceiling.
But now that he’s closer, even if Big hadn’t seen Tails though, it’s clear he’s been hard at work trying to fix the leaks. There are a dozen duct-taped patches on the ceiling – contrasted with a few patch kits, tools, and even a small welding job. It tells quite the story, paired with the soaked towels on the floor, five buckets, and a dozen drinking cups mostly-full of water. Big can’t help but feel bad for the kid, because despite his obvious efforts, there are still three inches of water on the ground.
But though Tails has been trying to fix this for a while, it’s clear Sonic hasn’t stopped by since the last big rains. Big can’t imagine Sonic would have left Tails here in cold and damp. Especially with the garage door wide open, free entry for any stranger (or Big) to walk through.
It’s not a good environment for a little fox, Big decides. Fortunately, he knows just how to help.
Big carefully sets the soup on a tiny stretch of open counter space. Then, he approaches the Tornado and knocks on the window.
Tails startles awake.
It’s a little funny how his fur fluffs up with panic – proof, at least, of him being dry and warm. But Big just gives him a friendly wave to reassure him that it’s all okay. Tails blinks at him a moment longer, disoriented from sleep.
“Big?” Tails asks, voice cracked. “What’re you doing here?”
“It’s soup day,” he says. “Has Sonic been by since the last soup day?”
At the mention of soup day, Tails wakes a bit more. “Oh, man! I completely forgot that was today! Thanks for coming by, Big – I was about to go into town for lunch again!”
Big’s a little worried about that, but he doesn’t ask, just nodding his head. “It’s still hot. You should start eating it while I check the roof.”
“Wh- You don’t have to do that,” Tails says hurriedly. He opens the cockpit and hops out, though hovers until he gets to the countertop, choosing to sit on its edge instead of wading into the water. Big, who’s ankle-deep and unbothered from years of wading in sandals, doesn’t mind. “What would you even check the roof for anyway?”
“Room to build a better roof,” Big says simply. “One with more slant.”
Tails stares at him with big eyes. “Why?”
“More slant will keep the rain from making puddles and breaking your metal roof,” Big says. He scoops Tails a bowl, then passes it to him.
“No, I know that,” Tails says, hungrily taking the bowl and digging in. Big doesn’t mind the loud slurps as the hungry little fox helps himself to that serving, and then again to another scoop. “I already have plans to make another. You don’t hafta help.”
“I made my own roof and never had to make it again ‘cause it was so sturdy,” Big says. “I can help with yours.”
“But… I mean… I can wait for Sonic, you don’t have to help…”
Big smiles at the little fox. The way he looks so concerned about taking advantage of Big’s generosity, even while he has broth dripping from his whiskers. “That’s what good neighbors do,” he says easily. “You can help by picking out the wood you want your cabin to be made of. Okay?”
Tails curls his tails around himself. “You really want to help?”
Big nods.
“I – whatever wood is from the forest around your house,” Tails says, looking a little pink. “If that’s okay. Um – or if it’s not, just let me know, I don’t want to go around cutting trees or anything if we don’t need to!”
“It’s the rainy season, so a lot of trees fell over anyway,” Big says. “It’s okay. I’d rather they get used for a neighbor, now that they’ve fallen.”
Tails looks at him earnestly. He eats another few bites of his soup – and Big is proud of him, has noticed him grow almost three inches since the met. That’s a lot for such a small fox – and he’s got a lot of growing to do still. But Big is glad he’s growing up healthy.
Then, his tails swish. “Why do you want to help so much?” he asks, quietly. “You always bring over soup, even though Sonic knows how to fish now. And now you’re fixing the roof?”
Big looks around the workshop for a moment. At the tools and reshaped metal all around them.
He could be honest, and explain that there aren’t many people like Tails. That there are even fewer like Sonic. That the two of them might be the best hope for people like Big, who miss being able to live in nature without threat of pollution. People who’ve noticed the missing flickies and rickies and pickies. People who have seen the chao and want to keep their gardens pure.
“It’s just being a good neighbor,” Big says. “That’s all.”
Tails doesn’t look like he completely believes that answer, though. He’s still small, but he’s leagues more perceptive than most kids his age. But he’s also still a pretty shy kid. Polite – one who doesn’t like causing too much trouble. Which is why, Big thinks, Tails looks back down and mumbles, “...If you say so.”
Big decides to be honest – just this once. “I never got to help make another cat’s hut,” he admits. “Older cats helped me make mine. But I never got to return the favor.”
Tails looks at him a little more seriously. Brows pinching together. Just on the cusp, Big thinks, of truly understanding. “Why couldn’t you return the favor?”
“...Metal houses,” he says, a lie that doesn’t quite feel like a lie, as he says it. A lie he’d prefer to the truth. “They went to live in metal houses. I’m the only one left”
Tails gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m really sorry,” he says – and it looks like he means it. “But if that’s really something you want to do – yeah! I’d love to help you build a hut!”
Big smiles, and can’t help but hug the little fox. He gives him a soft squeeze, appreciating the little squeak of surprise Tails makes. Big gets the feeling that Sonic isn’t the most affectionate, but that’s okay. Growing foxes need hugs almost as much as protein. “Thanks, little buddy,” Big says as he lets go. “Let’s go get some wood.”
///
In the end, they keep most of the metal walls. Big might still think it’s out of place, but it does keep moisture out better than wood, which Tails needs to keep his inventions from rusting. Plus – only a limited number of trees fell, and Big prefers keeping trees up and growing for as long as possible. Why waste wood on new walls when there's already ones available?
They end up giving the garage a lot more sloped roof however, so all the rain will down to one side. They only leave part of it flat – and that’s the part Big’s creating a hut on, which will have its own sloped roof.
He keeps the kitchen and bathroom in the workshop, since he doesn’t know anything about rewiring electricity or plumbing. Besides, Tails hadn’t asked to move anything up there except two beds, and a shelf for books.
It looks a little different than Big’s hut, mostly because it has all four walls. But that’s ‘cause the cliffs are a lot windier than the jungle, so Big has to make it strong enough to withstand even the harshest west winds. Big’s never used so much stone to build something before. But even he can’t deny that when they weigh down the edges of the garage, and add the sturdiest foundation they can build – it’s solid. And because they used the stone from the cliffside itself, the house almost blends in with its environment.
Almost.
It’s not perfect, and it’s still largely made of painted metal. But it’s stone and wood, too – with room for water and sky. Tails has plans to add a well with purified water, and an observatory. Big isn’t sure why Tails needs to see the stars even closer when they’re so bright at night, but he’s just glad this one appreciates them. (When Big goes to Station Square, rare as it is, he can barely see any.)
When Sonic returns three days later, the house is unrecognizable.
But from the appreciative, wide-eyed look on Sonic’s face – and the way he eyes the extra bed in the hut upstairs, Big thinks it’s a change for the better.
He still isn’t sure if Sonic will ever consider it a home; if he’ll ever use it as a house, as a shelter from the wind and rain for more than a night at a time. Not even if his little brother lives there.
But if there’s a way to bridge nature and the slow creep of metal, Big thinks these two would figure it out.