Chapter Text
Polyphemus casts the Olangi grasslands in a silver-blue glow as Metkayina chief and sky child move through the grasses together towards the stream.
Spear resting against his shoulder, Tonowari moves steadily towards the sound of the rushing river, the glowing grass giving way at his chest like water before a prow. The smooth green sweep of luminescent blades is interrupted by the pitter-patter of small feet as Spider bounces along beside Tonowari. The grass is much taller than Spider here; the only sign of the child’s presence is the emerald rustle of the grass and the occasional giggle as Spider darts about Tonowari’s knees.
Tonowari smiles. It is good to see the child happy.
“Where are we going?” Spider pipes up as Tonowari does not immediately approach the riverbank, instead leading the way upstream.
“The river here is still full of silt from the Talioang that passed this way.”
“Oh.” Spider resumes following Tonowari, the pit-pat of small feet sounding twice to each of Tonowari’s steady paces. There is nothing but trust in Spider’s voice, and Tonowari is glad for it. The mud in the river is not the only reason he wishes to avoid this place.
Tonowari makes sure to draw a wide circle past the river at the base of the hill and the lonely boulder in its centre, the grasses on the far side of the bank ground to mulch by heavy hooves. He hopes the height of the grasses on this side of the bank shield Spider from the memory, but to be sure, he holds out a hand to the bobbing emerald glimmer in the grass by his hip.
“Come here.”
Soft dreadlocks brush his palm. A small, five-fingered hand grasps Tonowari’s seagrass bracelet.
“Stay close,” Tonowari says. “There may be zeswanan.”
That is not quite true. Most grass vipers will be asleep at this time of night, but the child does not need to know that.
Tonowari keeps a steady hand on the back of the child’s head, and small fingers remain threaded through Tonowari’s seagrass bracelet, until the shadow of the hill is past and a new curve in the river opens.
Tonowari brushes the reeds by the stream aside and lets Spider step through to the pebbled bank. The river here is cool and silver in the starlight, bursts of colour leaping between the currents as glowing river fish slip between the stones. The air is lit with thousands of juvenile lortsyal shimmyflies, each no wider across than Tonowari’s palm.
Spider squats at the stream edge, sticking a hand in the water. The current by his fingers immediately brightens with iridescent fish, painting Spider’s mask in a reflective, golden glow.
Tonowari goes to kneel with Spider at the water’s edge, planting his spear in the soft dirt. “The fish like you,” he says, watching the fish fight against the current to stay with Spider.
“They like everyone,” Spider shrugs. “It’s the same when I sit with the fan-lizards back at the village.”
Tonowari has never encountered a kenten fan-lizard that did not do its best to flee from him. Even the glowfish in the rock pools at Awa’atlu do not always linger when Tonowari stops to greet them.
A shimmyfly lands on Spider’s head before drifting away again, like a brief caress. Spider does not notice, shaking droplets from his palm. All around is the song of the wind in the grass, Eywa’s cool breath blowing across the plains.
Eywa loves this child. Tonowari can see it well.
He reaches out and wraps Spider’s hometree-leaf-patterned blanket closer around him to block out the chill of the wind. “I promised to teach you the song of the spirit-grass at the Cove of Ancestors, where we give our dead to Eywa, and speak to those who came before us. All the children of my people learn it from the moment they are old enough to speak.”
Spider’s eyes shine. “Does the song have a name?”
“First song. My people have many songs, but this is the oldest. My grandfather used to tell me it was sung among the reefs at the first singing, when we first met our brothers and sisters the Tulkun.”
“Wow,” Spider breathes.
Tonowari feels a smile tugging at his mouth. It is hard not to smile when Spider’s face is so full of eager curiosity. “I will teach it to you the way I taught my children. The way of water has no beginning and no ending. The sea is around you, and in you. This song is the same; I will sing it until it has settled in you, like the shifting of the tide. Then you must join the song with me.”
“When do we stop?”
“When I am sure you have learnt it,” Tonowari laughs. “Now face the water and close your eyes.”
Spider shuffles around, knees just touching the water’s edge, and closes his eyes, his blanket pooling on the pebbles around him.
Tonowari turns to the river himself, takes a breath, and begins to sing.
(:~:)
Spider is almost asleep by the time Tonowari steps into the firelight cast by the shell lamps that mark the beginning of the Metkayina tents. There is a quiet whoosh-whoosh of filtered air by Tonowari’s ear, the child a warm, small weight against his chest as Tonowari moves quietly between the tents.
He is glad that most of his clan have already gone to their pallets. There are none to question their olo’eyktan and the sky child in his arms.
This impossible, astonishing sky child.
Spider had taken to learning the song as easily as an Ilu swimming. The stream had glowed golden when Tonowari had begun to sing, but when Spider had joined in Eywa’eveng had sung with him.
The prairie grass had blazed such a bright vivid green that it looked like fire; the stream brimmed with so many glowing river-fish that the light had shone through Tonowari’s eyelids.
Spider had continued to sing, eyes closed, even as dozens of lortsyal shimmyflies settled on his blanket.
It is plain that Eywa loved Spider’s song as much as Tonowari did.
The inside of Tonowari’s tent is dark. He balances Spider on a knee as he crouches to stir up the fire; Spider mumbles a little, hooks a hand in Tonowari’s akula-tooth necklace. Tonowari’s heart rises gently to his throat and down again, a gentle, eddying swell.
The bag Jakesully gave him rests on the carved hook where he had left it. Tonowari crosses to it, takes up the bag, and eases Spider onto Tonowari’s own reed pallet. He should have thought to borrow a spare from one of the families around him, but no matter. One night sleeping on dirt will not harm him, but the child deserves comfort.
The light on the metal box at the child’s hip is glowing amber. Tonowari takes up one of the small items in the bag – a bat-ter-ry – removes its twin from a slot in the box, and puts the fresh one in.
There is a soft beep, and the lights on the box and Spider’s mask change to green.
Satisfied, Tonowari packs Jakesully’s bag away, then reaches for the sealskin fur his mother had cured for him when he became taronyu. Spider curls into the soft fur, his breath misting the surface of his mask.
Tonowari brushes back Spider’s dreadlocks. For an odd moment he feels as though he should press a kiss to Spider’s hair, like he would for his own children, but he catches himself. He has allowed himself to become distracted by the familiar routine of settling a child to sleep, like he has for eight years since Aonung was born. But Spider is not Tonowari’s child, no matter how well he sings the song of the spirit-grass.
He is a sky child, and in the morning he will go back to his kind, as he should. It is nothing but chance that brought the two of them together.
The carved akula Tonowari had made earlier in the day watches him steadily by the fire.
Spider does not move as Tonowari tucks the akula into his hand. Tonowari had carved it no bigger than his palm, but Spider’s hand is only large enough to wrap around its tail, the bruise on his forearm seeping to yellow above his wrist.
There is no need for Tonowari to keep watching the child. It is late. He should sleep.
Tonowari hangs his olo’eyktan shawl and headpiece up onto their stand and unties his shell chest-guard. He gathers up a woven kelp blanket and settles down on the opposite side of the fire, tucking a spare cloak under his ear.
He watches the sky child sleep through the flickering flames; the slow rise and fall of Spider’s chest under the seal fur. Tonowari has spent many a night falling asleep watching his children slumber.
It is not so different, this.
Tonowari closes his eyes.
(:~:)
Spider gasps awake.
His left elbow and forearm feel like they are made of shards of glass. The sky through the gap in the tent above the firepit is still the deep blue of the Pandoran night.
Fur tickles his chest as he shifts; he should be warm, but every part of him is shivering. There is a firm, unfamiliar object in his fingers, and Spider looks confusedly at the carved akula in his hand before his fingers spasm and he drops the figurine with a soft thud.
Something shifts across the low, flickering embers of the dying fire. Spider clutches his arm to his chest, blinks through his misted mask at the shape of Tonowari asleep on the other side of the fire.
Spider’s arm spasms again; he curls around it, biting his lip so hard tears start in his eyes. Whatever herbs Tonowari had given him the day before must have worn off.
The wind howls outside the tent. Spider tries to calm his breathing, but the more he thinks about his arm, the more it hurts.
It is not the first time an injury has woken him in the middle of the night. He’d had his fair share of sprains and cuts exploring the forest with Kiri, Lo’ak, and Neteyam; if he was staying the night in the Sullys’ tent and the pain got too much in the middle of the night, he’d climb out of the spare blanket and slip out of the tent. It was always easy, since Spider’s place was always by the door. From there it would be a short distance to Mo’at’s herb stores outside her tent, where he could find himself some paywll herbs to dull the pain.
Spider doesn’t know where to find paywll herbs in the Metakyina camp. Neytiri probably has some, but even if Spider crossed the camp in darkness to get to the Sullys’ tent, that would mean stealing again. And if Spider woke Jake, Jake would definitely try to get Neytiri to see him.
Spider can’t imagine Neytiri being happy about that. He’s caused enough trouble these last few days; he shouldn’t cause more.
His arm throbs. Spider buries his face into the soft fur, muffles a whine. He shouldn’t cry. He’s eight winters old. He should be braver than this.
He sniffles. The inside of his mask is wet; so much for not being a baby.
The embers pop in the dying fire, their dull orange glow glinting off Tonowari’s akula-tooth necklace. The Metkayina chief’s ear flicks once in slumber, then stills again.
Spider looks at Tonowari.
Would Tonowari be angry if Spider woke him?
After the Talioang stampede, when Tonowari had first seen Spider for what he was – a Sky Person, a pinkskin – he had hissed. Spider had seen the disgust on his face.
The disgust shouldn’t have surprised Spider. He’d lied and said he was Omaticaya when he first met Tonowari in the tall grass, and Spider had turned out to be a Sky Person. Any Na’vi would be disgusted with him.
But even after finding out Spider had deceived him, Tonowari had kept his promise to teach Spider the song. He’d cleaned and fed Spider, and insisted on treating his arm, even if it meant bothering Jake and Neytiri again.
Tonowari had been so kind to him, even though Spider was not the Na’vi child he had hoped to meet. He’d held Spider when he cried – something that Spider doesn’t remember anyone ever doing for him. He’s seen Jake and Neytiri doing it for Kiri and Lo’ak and Neteyam. Nobody has ever held Spider like that.
He had felt safe.
Spider wants…Spider wants to feel that again.
He gets up slowly, the shock of cold air burning across his injured arm. The half-dozen steps across the tent seem to take forever; Spider holds his arm close to his chest with the other, hiccupping with pain, and kneels by Tonowari’s side.
He reaches out with a shaking hand. It isn’t only pain that is making him tremble. If he has miscalculated and Tonowari is angry Spider woke him, that would somehow hurt worse than his injured arm.
You’re Spider, a part of him whispers. You always make people angry.
Spider holds his breath and puts a shaking hand on Tonowari’s shoulder, over the seawall tattoo that Tonowari had proudly told him about the day before.
Tonowari stirs. His blue-green eyes have barely blinked open before Spider is rambling.
“I’m sorry I woke you my arm hurts and I don’t know where to find herbs and I tried to wait it out but it hurts and I–”
Large hands cup Spider’s face. Spider gulps in a ragged breath, tucks his injured arm into himself. “Please don’t be angry at me.”
Tonowari’s face swims into view, soft in the dim firelight. “Peace, child,” he says, gently. He brushes Spider’s hair away from his mask, tucks one broad palm under his injured arm. “I am not angry. I am pleased you woke me.”
Spider hiccups. He doesn’t understand.
There is something like pride mixed with the concern in Tonowari’s eyes. “I am pleased you woke me, Spider,” he repeats, taking his own blanket from around himself and tucking it around Spider instead. The sudden warmth leeches some of the pain from Spider’s arm. “Wait here. I will fetch something for you.”
Spider stops himself from reaching out as Tonowari rises and steps out of the tent. He so badly wants to not be alone.
But in no time at all Tonowari has returned; he sets a shell cup of water by the embers in the firepit, scatters a pinch of herbs into it, then lifts Spider into his lap, blanket and all.
“We must wait a little while for the water to warm,” Tonowari says as he stirs up the fire with one hand, the other still wrapped around Spider’s back. “I apologise. I should have thought to keep some herbs here, in case you needed them tonight.”
Spider doesn’t know if he’s allowed to lean his head against Tonowari’s shoulder. He did when he cried yesterday, and he has a vague, sleepy memory of being carried back to camp – but this is different.
They wait together, Spider shivering, Tonowari working at the fire.
Tonowari sets down the stick he had been stoking the fire with and tucks his hand around the back of Spider’s neck, pulling Spider’s head down onto his collarbone.
Spider exhales. He can hear Tonowari’s heartbeat like this – slow, calm, like waves on the shore. He feels Tonowari’s next words through his chest.
“I tell my children that they can wake me at any time, for any reason. You are under my care tonight, so you may do the same.”
Spider sniffles. “Your children?”
“Aonung and Tsireya,” Tonowari hums. He is rocking slightly, a gentle, easy rhythm that slows Spider’s breathing. “Aonung is about your age. Tsireya a little younger.” He reaches for the shell cup, shifts Spider so he can lift his mask to drink from it. “Be careful. It is hot.”
Spider gulps down the bitter brew, feels it mix with the sour jealousy slowly rearing in his stomach. If Tonowari treats a sky child he barely knows as well as this, he must love his children more than Spider can imagine.
The old grief burns in Spider’s chest. He crushes it into a thrumming ball deep behind his ribs instead. “Do you miss them?” he asks hollowly.
“I do,” Tonowari exhales.
Of course Tonowari would. They’re his children. His family. There is a fierce longing in Tonowari’s voice, the possessive love that all Na’vi have for their children. Like Jake has for Neyteyam, Kiri, and Lo’ak.
Nobody would ever miss Spider like that. He’s spent more than a week away from Hell’s Gate and the Omaticaya village now, and nobody had even noticed he’d left.
The herbs are starting to work. The pain in Spider’s arm dulls to an ache. Tonowari’s heart beats under Spider’s ear, warm and steady, like a slow, calming drum.
Tears start in Spider’s eyes. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows that in a few short hours he’ll have to climb in Norm’s gunship and go home.
Home, to Hell’s Gate. To metal and the McCoskers and whatever they want to do with him.
Spider exhales, a gusting, uneven whistle.
“Spider?” Tonowari shifts to look down at him.
Spider can’t let Tonowari see the tears on his face. He hides his mask in Tonowari’s akula-tooth necklace instead, curling his injured arm into Tonowari’s chest.
Tonowari is silent for a long moment, then he begins to hum; the song of the Ilu-pup and the glowfish, the sea and the stars. The song wraps around Spider like a cloak of golden sea-grass.
Spider lets himself hide in the warmth and the safety until sleep drags him under again.
(:~:)
Tonowari looks down at the slumbering child in his arms.
There had been a moment when Spider asked about Tonowari’s children that the child’s face had changed; there had been something so lonely and grieved and resigned in his eyes that Tonowari had not known what to do.
It is the same loneliness that Tonowari had heard sung into Spider’s songcord the first night Tonowari had met him.
By dawn Tonowari’s duty to care for him will be done, and that duty will be passed on to Spider’s own kind. It is not Tonowari’s business to worry about him.
Spider shifts in his sleep, his head lolling back on Tonowari’s collarbone. The firelight makes the dried tear tracks on his face glisten. Even as he was falling asleep Spider had tried to hide them.
Tonowari makes himself move. It is a few short steps back to the child’s pallet. He hovers for a moment, wondering if he should tuck the child into his chest and cover them both with the blanket, like he would his own children if one of them woke with a nightmare.
But no. This child is not his. Spider belongs with his Sky People tirea sa’sem, and he is Jakesully’s responsibility.
Tonowari tucks Spider back along with the carved akula under the sealskin fur, and lays next to the pallet. He pulls his own blanket up over his chilled skin.
A compromise. Now he is within arm’s reach, should Spider need him again before dawn.
He falls asleep listening to the whoosh-whoosh of Spider’s breathing.
(:~:)
“Hey, Norm!”
Jakesully’s shout is almost drowned out by the thunder of metal blades as the metal bird descends out of the sky.
Dirt and dust sting Tonowari’s eyes as the metal bird lands in the clearing; he holds out a hand at his side to shield Spider’s face before he remembers Spider is wearing a mask. Behind them both, an uneasy murmur spreads through the tents. None but the Omaticaya are used to seeing the flying weapons of the Sky People used for anything except death.
The whirring blades slowly lower in pitch. The figure that emerges is blue skinned but has five fingers, and is dressed in the oddly woven green-brown fabric of the Sky People. A dreamwalker, like Toruk Makto originally was.
“Good to see you, Norm,” Jake says, stepping forward to clasp hands with the dreamwalker and pull him into a hug. “How’s Mutxuk? How’s the baby?”
Tonowari listens, intrigued. So this dreamwalker has an Omaticaya mate.
“They’re both doing great,” Norm says, smiling widely. “A month ago I’d have said I was sorry to miss the Txanal Sӓtaron, but I’m so glad we both stayed at home. We’re going to bring Popiti to connect with the utraya mokri in a couple days.”
“Record it for me,” Jake smiles. “I want to see it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Norm says. He turns to Spider at Tonowari’s side. “Hey, Spider,” he chuckles wryly. “You’ve really got yourself into trouble this time.”
Spider nods back, clutching his bark blanket tight around his shoulders. He is still standing close to Tonowari’s hip; every line of his little body screams reluctance.
Jake’s expression turns firm as he looks at Spider. “Tonowari, brother,” he calls. “This is Norm, my friend. Norm, this is Tonowari. Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina clan.”
“I see you,” Norm intones formally, bringing his hand to his forehead and out again.
“I see you,” Tonowari replies.
Jake clears his throat. “Right. Time to go, kid.”
Spider doesn’t move. “Can Norm and I stay until the Olangi trial is done?”
“No,” Jake says firmly, even though his friend’s ears immediately perk with interest.
“Actually, Jake,” Norm says a little embarrassedly. “I, uh, didn’t get to observe the Talioang trial back when we were researching from Hell’s Gate. I’d really love to see it now–”
“This isn’t a discussion,” Jake says sharply.
Spider flinches. Tonowari puts a gentle hand on top of his head, comforting.
Norm doesn’t say anything, but his tail has begun to lash.
Jake pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks like he has a headache. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I apologise for that, Norm, Tonowari. Just – Akwey’s really counting on me to get this over with so he can send out his people to get the whole trial started. Spider’s ruined yesterday’s trial already. I’m not rewarding that.”
“I’m sorry,” Spider whispers hollowly.
“Yeah, you should be,” Jake says, before Tonowari can speak. “Get in the gunship, kid. Hustle.”
Spider’s head drops. He turns to Tonowari and bows politely, eyes glistening. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Tonowari crouches so he can speak on a similar level to Spider. “No thanks is required. Before you go, I have something for you.” He reaches into his belt pouch for the carved akula. “You left this in the tent. It was a gift.”
Jake makes a surprised noise; Norm looks between Tonowari and Spider quizzically.
Tonowari ignores them in favour of keeping his eyes on the child before him.
Spider’s eyes widen as he takes the akula with both hands and hugs it to his chest. “Thank you,” he breathes. He swallows once, the nob at his throat bobbing, then blurts, “Will you come to the forest? When the hunt takes the clans there?”
“Spider,” Jake hisses.
“I am not offended, Jakesully,” Tonowari says calmly, not looking at Jake. He nods at Spider. “Yes. I will.”
Spider beams. He bows once again, dreadlocks swinging, then takes a deep breath and moves towards the gunship, clutching his carved akula to his chest.
Tonowari keeps his eyes on Spider as Spider and the dreamwalker climb into the gunship. He does not look away, even as the metal blades blur into motion and dust stings his eyes.
He raises his spear in acknowledgement as Spider waves goodbye down from above.
The air is very quiet after the sound of the gunship fades. The sky is no less blue, the emerald plains no less beautiful. There is just less in it.
Jake stretches his neck back and groans, planting his hands on his hips. “That’s one thing dealt with,” he sighs. “I hope Spider didn’t give you any trouble.”
“He did not,” Tonowari says, forcing himself to turn away from the empty sky. “He is a good singer, and wise beyond his years. I enjoyed my time with him.”
Jake laughs and claps Tonowari on the shoulder. “There’s no need to sugarcoat it. Come. Akwey will be getting the pa’li organised soon.”
Tonowari opens his mouth to speak, then thinks better of it. He takes a slow, controlled breath, and shrugs off Jake’s hand.
In the distance, Akwey is already astride his pa’li, shouting orders to his young warriors-in-training around him.
Tonowari hefts his spear over his shoulder and begins walking. He keeps his thoughts to himself.
(:~:)
“C’mon, Spider. Mask off. You know the drill.”
Spider shakes himself. He hangs his exopack on the airlock wall, then disconnects his mask and slides it into the waiting slot; there is a whoosh of compressed air as the chute transports the mask away for cleaning.
After so long breathing through a mask, the air of Hell’s Gate tastes foreign to him. The cold air of the corridor has a metallic scent to it, and the steel floors are icy against his bare feet. Spider shields his face from the glare of the strip-lights above as Norm leads the way to medical.
“Hey, there’s our little runaway,” Max greets them brightly. “Hop up on the bench. Let’s see what you’ve done to yourself.”
“I’m gonna go unlink,” Norm says, taking an inhale of his carbon dioxide mask as he ducks into the next room.
Spider climbs obediently onto the examination bench and pulls off his bark blanket.
Max frowns at the massive four-fingered bruise on Spider’s forearm. “How’d that happen, kid?”
“I got trapped in a Talioang stampede. Tonowari pulled me out. He’s the Metkayina chief.”
Max whistles. “And this?” he touches the bruising on the outside of Spider’s elbow.
“Neytiri said the bone wasn’t in the right place. She put it back.”
“Nursemaid’s elbow.” Max nods to himself as he holds a wide scanning screen over Spider’s arm. “There’s some inflammation, but it doesn’t look too bad. Ice and rest it and you’ll be good in a couple weeks.”
Spider nods. He doesn’t feel much like speaking; the more he thinks about what is going to happen after this, the more nauseous he feels.
He doesn’t want to go back to the McCoskers. He wants to run into the forest and climb up, up, where nobody can find him–
“Hey, there’s no need to be scared, I’m great with needles,” Max says as he preps a tube. “Here, hold your little friend. Does he have a name?”
Spider hates being treated like a baby, but he tucks the carved akula close to his chest anyway as Max draws his blood. He hardly feels the sting of the needle through the cold sweat beading his forehead.
“There, all done. Hold that gauze for me.”
Spider obediently holds the gauze over the crook of his elbow as Max tapes it tight. “It doesn’t have a name,” he says.
“I’m sure you’ll think of one soon,” Max says as he slots the blood sample into the analyser. “Who made it for you?”
Spider bites his lip, thinks of warm seal furs and safety. “Tonowari.”
“The Metkayina chief? That’s nice of him.” The analyser beeps. “Hey, that’s not too bad. Eat some better meals while you’re here, okay? Scanner says you’re a bit light.”
Spider nods and slides off the table. If he can get away while Max is distracted and before Norm gets back, he grab a mask and run into the forest–
The door to the corridor hisses open.
“Hey, Spider,” Norm says, once more in his human body. “Your dad’s here to pick you up.”
Spider’s blood freezes.
Nash McCosker steps into the medical centre. His combat boots leave a grimy stain on the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold, pot belly straining under his t-shirt and ill-fitting khaki vest.
“Time’s up, son,” he calls, mouth working under his thick moustache. “Mary and I have been worried sick.”
Bullshit, Spider thinks. His eyes slide to the right, to the door to the next room and the corridors to the avatar labs and airlocks beyond–
Mr McCosker closes the distance to Spider in three long steps and grasps Spider’s shoulder in one broad hand, tight enough to hurt. “Let’s go, boy.”
Spider can hear the warning in his tone, even if Max and Norm don’t.
There is nothing Spider can do. He clutches his bark blanket in one hand and his akula in the other, and feels Mr McCosker steer him out into the corridor.
“Thanks, guys,” Mr McCosker is saying. “Just what Mary and I get for taking in such a rascal, hmm?”
Laughter. Spider hears it as though from far away; the blanket and carved akula are slipping in his sweaty palms as the corridor steepens to a blurred slope.
They turn the corner from the medical centre, and Mr McCosker’s grasp on Spider’s shoulder turns bruising.
Spider gasps, but keeps walking. He knows what will happen if he doesn’t.
“You little bastard,” Mr McCosker hisses as he drags Spider along with him, uncaring for Spider’s stumbling, shorter stride. “Do you know how embarrassed Mary and I were when Norm told us where you’d gone? You made us look like shitty parents.”
Bitter anger rises in Spider’s chest; it washes away the numbness for an instant, makes him look up to meet his foster father’s gaze.
“Maybe you are,” he challenges.
Mr McCosker’s face hardens to icy fury for an instant before it washes into a blank, cheery mask. He looks up at the blinking light in the corner of the corridor and back down at Spider.
“You’ve got real nerve saying that when there aren’t any cameras at home, kid.”
Spider’s next breath comes short. He tries to stand his ground, but the hand on his shoulder is a vise he cannot break away from. His bare feet slip on the cold floors as Mr McCosker pushes him through the corridors.
They come to a familiar door.
“No, please, I’ll be good–”
“And there we start with the fucking pleading,” Mr McCosker hisses. “Mary! I’ve got the little bastard. Get my combat belt, I’m not ruining this one.”
Blind with terror, Spider is thrown over the threshold. He drops his akula; his bark blanket is torn out of his hands.
The door hisses shut. There is no way out.