The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(10)

Della grumbled as it tipped sideways.

“Hush up.” I yanked her closer, so I could unzip the top. Ripping it down too fast, a blonde curl got caught in the zipper’s teeth. Her face scrunched up with indignation, her mouth wide and ready to scream.

My heart jack-knifed as I clamped a hand over her tiny mouth. “Don’t you dare,” I hissed in her ear. “It’s just a little pain. It’s nothing.”

She wriggled beneath my hold, little whimpers and struggles unmatched for my wiry strength from working the land and wrangling unhelpful livestock.

The cat swiped at my ass still lodged in its exit. I tried to kick it and lost my grip on Della’s mouth.

I stiffened, already preparing to run the moment she cried.

Lights would flick on, feet would pummel stairs, and I’d be caught stuck in a cat flap like a failed, stupid thief.

Why didn’t I use the door?

I could’ve unlocked it from the inside.

Hating and cursing my idiocy, I didn’t breathe as the moment stretched so long my teeth ached. My body already vibrated with her scream. But slowly, her lips closed, anger faded from accusing eyes, and her teeny hand rubbed her scalp with her ribbon clutched tight.

I let out the breath I’d been holding.

“Good girl,” I whispered. “You’re very brave.”

The transformation in her entire body blinded me. A smile spread. Cheeks pinked. Spine straightened. Any sign of sickness and starvation from living in the wild deleted, all because of one morsel of praise.

There was a key in that.

A message that all humans—tiny or ancient—needed nutrition in the form of love as well as everything else.

It made my recent decision even easier because I was not capable of feeding her everything she needed. I’d gotten her this far. My job was done.

“Get out of the backpack.” I pushed the canvas sides to collapse on the deck.

Giving me a sideways look, she bit her lip uncertainly.

“Get. Now.” Pulling her once chubby arm, I knocked her off balance and dragged her out. She didn’t make a sound, not caring her filthy onesie got caught on a deck splinter or that the only place she’d found safety in was now tossed out of reach.

Keeping my fingers locked around her midget wrist, I backed through the cat flap, pulling her with me. “Come on.”

It took a few attempts with the cat trying to squish past me and Della wriggling the wrong way, but somehow, I managed to get her inside without too many grizzles.

I really should’ve just unlocked the door, but we were inside. The cat shot outside. And the house slept on none the wiser.

The minute all limbs were inside the kitchen, I stood and stretched out sore muscles, ignored my growling stomach, then scooped her from the clean floor.

The novelty of not having to knock off leaves from her ass or check her for beetles and ants was nice as I carried her into the lounge and placed her on the rug with all the bright plastic toys.

Instantly, she latched sticky fingers around some sort of ring with rainbow disks slipping and sliding. Once again, she gave me a smile so blinding, so pure, so grateful, I buckled under a different type of hunger.

A hunger for the same thing I couldn’t give her.

A hunger for something that offered safety even if everything around us was dangerous.

“Don’t make a sound.” I pointed at her, backing away to the kitchen. “I mean it.”

She watched me go, blue eyes never leaving mine as I ducked around the breakfast bar and wrenched open the pantry.

She stayed quiet as a chipmunk as I grabbed packets of crisps and chocolate biscuits and brightly wrapped lollies. The foils and wrappers made a horrendous noise in the quiet, making my ears twitch for company and eyes flicker to the dark corridor beyond.

Abandoning them on the counter, I turned to quieter things.

Knowing I was on borrowed time, I yanked open the fridge and fought every instinct to dive straight into the cool crisp shelves full of deliciousness.

Grapes dangled with a cheese platter wrapped in cellophane. A chunky pink leg of ham smelled of smoke and honey. Beer clattered in the door along with apple juice packs and little glass jars with a picture of a baby on the front.

I couldn’t read what flavours they were, but one was orange, another green, and one a greyish pink. Grabbing all three, I shoved them into my cargo pockets, grabbed the platter with cheese and grapes along with the ham, and somehow balanced my haul back to the living room.

Plonking them beside Della, I dashed back to the kitchen drawers to pilfer a spoon for her. I didn’t need cutlery. I was too hungry to eat with manners.

“Sit still,” I ordered as I landed next to her on the plush comfy rug. I wanted to take this rug. To sleep on it. Wrap myself up in it in the forest. I never wanted to leave its comfy-ness.

But it was too big, too heavy, and after tonight, I would be travelling light.

I’d no longer have a baby to haul across the country.

I could fly.

My stomach growled at the enticing smells, and I ripped off the cellophane, dug dirty nails into the ham, and ripped off a handful.

Della licked her lips as I tore it apart with my teeth, swallowing before properly chewing, forgetting I was human and becoming an animal instead.

Her smacking grew louder as she squashed herself against my leg, reaching for the ham. I didn’t stop her as she copied me, powerless fingers clawing at the meat, little tongue licking air for a taste.