Chapter 136: Squirt Experiments

By that night, Squirt finished three different glider prototypes. Puds’ had eagerly watched the entire process, listening to Squirt mutter out designs and weigh options, and though she rarely understood more than the general concepts, explaining things to Puds had helped Squirt better understand her own designs.

It had been different. Strange, almost. The repeated nights speaking in greenling while Zhadin offered her their magic had been oddly relaxing. A blending of her past and present in one, small, quiet room.

Zhadin did not join them physically, watching from the shadows. When Squirt was ready for their help, their tendrils simply rose up from her own shadow, wrapping around her hands and gifting her magic in the most unobtrusive way possible.

It had still made Puds pale.

At first, anyway.

But by the third prototype, the anxious wariness had faded from her eyes to tentative acceptance.

With the prototypes finished, it was time to test them. Each had a single egg housed or attached to it as a stand in for an injured fey. And luckily, just outside of the door was a balcony that would work perfectly. They would do the first two, and then the third one last, since it was the most likely to fail.

Standing with her own prototype, Squirt turned to Puds. “Ready?”

Puds smiled, a flush of happiness to her cheeks. She glanced down at the glider prototype in her hands, adjusting it carefully and ensuring the wings were ready to be deployed. Nodding once in satisfaction, she met Squirt’s gaze again. “Ready!”

Shifting the prototype she carried, Squirt opened the door, freezing at the sight of Tater with her hand raised to knock.

Panic skittered across Tater’s face, a flush of fluster coloring her cheeks. “I-I, um, I’m sorry, I—”

Squirt, stiff with awkwardness, waited while Tater cut herself off and gathered her thoughts back up.

Puds pressed into Squirt’s back, her chin resting on Squirt’s shoulder.

There was a certain wistfulness in the twist of Tater’s lips that had Squirt’s eyes narrowing. “No, we weren’t fucking.”

Tater blinked, her words hesitant and halting. “I… didn’t think you were.”

Oh.

Tater fidgeted, twirling her index fingers around each other. “I-I was just…” Her features tightened before falling, and she said with a sigh, “I finished collecting the wakeberries. The elders are drying them.”

No part of Squirt believed Tater had come all the way up here to knock at her door to report on her daily task.

No.

She had a feeling she knew what this was about.

Still, even if Squirt had an inkling as to the topic at hand, that didn’t mean she knew how to bridge the awkward gap between them. Squirt would avoid the question indefinitely if not asked, and their parting sixty years ago had been… regretful.

Puds, picking up on the awkward desire for connection from the other two, straightened and smiled warmly over Squirt’s shoulder. “We’re about to run an experiment and could use a third set of hands.”

Tater’s eyes lit up.

Squirt was startled to see it.

Confused but accepting the olive branch provided by Puds, Squirt pulled back from the doorway, giving Tater enough room to slip past her. “Over there. Grab that one.”

Tater obeyed, entering and bending down to pick up the third prototype, her eyes curiously inspecting it with a frown. “What is this?”

“A glider prototype.”

Tater stilled, her eyes on the prototype. She swallowed. Putting together pieces that Puds already had. “You…” Then she shook the thought from her head, deciding not to voice the connection, and turning with a friendly yet nervous smile. “What’s the experiment?”

“We’re dropping them off the balcony.”

“Is that safe?”

Dryly, Squirt asked, “Would I risk Elder Thorn’s wrath?”

Tater let out a giggle just a touch too high in pitch. “Ah, well… I mean… but it’s you, so...”

“When has that stopped Elder Thorn?” Not even the statue incident had softened the old bat’s scowl towards Squirt.

And yet, the Pest had gotten the bat to smile at him.

Like she heard Squirt’s thoughts, Tater said, “Fel would talk to her for you.”

Squirt snorted. “He would.”

She giggled. “I can just imagine it now. ‘Elder Thorn, please excuse the huntress, and I will sing you whatever song you like.’ Or do you think he would dance?”

“Both.”

“Ah, yeah, probably. She’d drive a hard bargain.”

“She would. She’d have him do his illusions, too.”

“Is there anything he wouldn’t do for you?”

Squirt opened her mouth to answer, then stopped on a croak. Tater’s tone had been friendly and teasing, but it opened the door to something so much deeper, leaving Squirt frozen in indecision.

Squirt was the opposite of everything greenling. Here she was, courted openly by four high fey—or three high fey and one middling one—and more than likely, the rest of the collective genuinely didn’t understand what it all meant. How could they?

The Pest had chosen her, and she hadn’t accepted.

How did she explain that?

The silence stretched awkwardly between them after the teasing statement, Squirt frozen in place by complications of being courted instead of doing the courting. Of going against everything greenlings had been raised to believe about themselves.

Tater glanced up, opening her mouth to say something, only to stop when her eyes met Squirt’s. Both glanced away, each shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot rather than leaving the small, cramped space.

***

Glancing between them, Puds could see the tension. The awkward nerves that Tater didn’t know how to contend with, being so naturally friendly that she’d never really had to deal with such a deep gap between two fey. The downcast shift in Squirt, incapable of reconciling that she wasn’t an outsider to the collective, even if her position in it had changed.

Squirt had always been a leader Tater had looked up to. Tater had always been a friendly face Squirt had gravitated towards, finding it easier to let Tater bridge the gaps than her with her more temperamental personality. Though they had never been lovers, they had been friends.

It was enough to make Puds press her lips into a firm line, this awkward air.

Tater was older than Squirt and Puds. An older sister who had never once given up hope that one day, she’d be chosen. She’d been picked for a powerful fey’s bed a couple of times because of that same friendliness, far more often than most greenlings. But none had chosen her after, always falling into the camp of pretending the entire event did not happen. One had even kicked her onto the street partway through the experience, making her return to the collective naked and shivering in the freezing depths of winter.

Squirt had found her shivering in an alley. Small and physically incapable of carrying her, afraid like most greenlings of using their wings and thus drawing unnecessary attention, she’d ripped up her own boots to accommodate Tater’s bigger feet and fashioned a makeshift shawl of her own clothing, wrapping them both in it. Tater carried Squirt on her back all the way home, and by the time they’d returned, Tater had a bright smile on her face.

And yet look at them now, neither able to hold each other’s gaze for more than a second.

She knew why, of course.

Squirt was wrapped up in guilt of choice words she’d given Tater at their parting when she bragged about being called back to the Moorn Family, being chosen by a bigger fey. The words had hurt Tater, yes, but Squirt had never been the type to forgive herself for any mistake.

Tater had likely forgotten or forgiven that incident entirely decades ago, never one weighed down by the same cynical viewpoints Squirt was prone to. But she was in the same camp as many of the other greenlings here, seeming to decide that Squirt was one step down from holy entity, and having trouble reconciling past Squirt with current Squirt.

Not that Puds could blame her. She’d had her own struggles reconciling the two.

But glancing at Squirt now, despite the obvious scars that made her more like a hissing alleycat than her natural playful self, she hadn’t changed at all. Not really.

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But how could Puds make them both see that?

Puds stepped in, pulling focus back from the disconnected pair, drawing both their eyes up. Tater seemed taken aback by the firmness in the set of Puds’ lips, while Squirt studied her quietly, withdrawing into herself again.

Puds smiled at Tater. “Fel is smitten with her, isn’t he?”

Squirt balked, a faint blush on her cheeks reminiscent of her old self.

Tater smiled hesitantly back, her eyes flickering to Squirt’s before nodding. She adjusted the glider in her hands as a fidget, nodding. “Yeah. It’s… nice, actually. Has he… I mean… does she…?”

Puds could see the question on the tip of Tater’s tongue.

Squirt’s expression started to shut down, making Tater falter once more.

Puds wanted to shake them both by their hair and force them to hug it out. Instead, she said, “He’s not the only one smitten.”

Tater blinked slowly. “He’s… not?”

Squirt’s panicked growl came out as adorable petulance, closer to a whine really than anything threatening. “Puds—”

“In the meantime, he’s making himself useful, which I, for one, appreciate.”

Tater’s eyes shone with her romanticism, and Puds then changed topics before Squirt could grow too flustered. She held up the prototype.

“So. Ready to toss these over the banister at Elder Thorn? Though I think I might aim for Elder Grape. He’s been fussy the last two days.”

Tater grinned and Squirt snorted, both of them relaxing once more.

Tater said, “Elder Grape is always fussy.”

“Do you know how many times he changed his mind on where the linens should be in the kitchen cabinets?”

“At least ten?”

“More than that.”

Tater snickered. “He must have been in a mood.”

“He’s always in a mood.”

“That’s true.”

“Now let’s go give him something to be moody about.”

Tater grinned and said, “Just tell me where to go.”

Squirt relaxed somewhat once more, as usual being more comfortable with experiments and banter than personal relationships. “Follow us. Find a spot on the balcony equidistant from Puds and me.”

Puds watched her turn, smiling at Tater and giving her an encouraging nod over her shoulder as she followed Squirt out the door.

***

Relieved of the need to attempt connection she didn’t know how to bridge, Squirt set her prototype on the balcony’s ledge, glancing over and directly into the eyes of the Pest.

He’d been strumming, but while his hands never stopped, his crooning voice faded into a soft smile that had a touch of melancholy to it. Wistfulness.

It was enough to make Squirt scowl, frustrated with the way her own heart yearned with a similar wistfulness towards him. She’d barely spoken to the pest over the last few days, even if they often passed each other. He was there, always on offer, like she knew he would be. He just never approached her, and she usually preferred observing his glittering self from afar.

Usually.

Puds put her prototype on the banister, and Squirt followed her lead. Tater did as well, sneaking glances at both Puds and Squirt as she looked for a cue. Puds cleared her throat from her position twenty paces to Squirt’s left, drawing the eyes of everyone there. “Look out, below!”

With their eyes on Puds instead of Squirt, the smallest upward tilt to Squirt’s lips appeared on her face, her eyes still focused on the Pest. She saw the moment the breath caught in his throat, the way his cheeks flushed and eyes softened with a barely repressed swoon.

Puds glanced between Squirt and Tater, gave a small nod, then a larger one, and then, on the third, the three of them released their gliders.

Tater’s was the most solid and complicated of the three. Though the wings deployed as expected, it was unbalanced and took an immediate nosedive without anyone to direct it, crashing into the ground with force. The egg within it splattered on the ground, the simplistic stand-in for Squirt damning.

Puds’ version was halfway between the two, a solid pole to cling to with two wings that folded out and could be directed. Better balanced than Tater’s option, it glided halfway across the cavern before the heat drafts from the kitchens mixed with the cooler air from one of the caverns, and the resulting air currents shifted it enough that it took its own nosedive. Straight towards Elder Thorn.

Or it would have, if a certain Pest hadn’t appeared and caught it just before it crashed on the elder’s head. He shot the elder a flirty wink, and while she scowled, there was a definite smile curling up her face.

It irked Squirt that she really was becoming like the old bat as she aged. She knew for certain she had shot the pest similar expressions that failed to hide her own amusement.

Based on the teasing smile he shot Squirt over his shoulder, he was fully aware of this.

Before it could annoy her, his smile shifted to warmth and his head tilted back to watch the slow descent of the last prototype.

It was simple. A stretched cloth with cords that would wrap around the one who deployed it, inspired by Zhadin’s tendrils. Though the theory had been sound, Squirt hadn’t anticipated it to do as well as it was. It circled the cavern, following the drafts in the air with ease.

Meaning that unlike the other two, if she was injured or passed out, it would still do its job.

Of the three, the materials and recombination of them was the simplest, but the enchantment was by far the most complex. It had to be woven into the very fiber of the cords. There was no firm switch that activated it, meaning it had to be activated by magic.

At least, this version.

Some of the kids took to the air, giggling and flying around the fabric glider as it slowly circled the cavern in a controlled fall, the egg held by the cords perfectly safe, even as they accidentally knocked it off course, adding a randomness to the air currents that was useful for the experiment.

Squirt leaned on the banister, her eyes on its slow descent, watching the kids as they giggled and laughed and flittered around it.

Puds shifted closer, leaning on the banister herself. “Looks like my favorite is the winner.”

Squirt hummed noncommittally in response.

Tater hesitated, but approached as well, leaning on the banister on Puds’ other side. She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, not unlike Squirt did, though her fingers twirled in a hypnotic pattern that matched the rhythm of her feet.

Squirt knew what she actually wanted to ask. It was likely a question shared by every greenling here.

Why was the Pest courting her and not the other way around? Had he not already chosen her?

Puds shifted, pressing her shoulder into Squirt’s in a gesture of comfort and solidarity. Tater had clearly been wanting to ask but not wanting to intrude, and of everyone here, the curiosity was probably killing her the most.

The Pest went against everything they had all been raised to believe about their own self-worth, after all.

Tater didn’t want the Pest. She didn’t want the gossip. What she wanted was hope that maybe, just maybe, someone would choose her, too.

And Squirt didn’t know how to tell her that she shouldn’t let herself get chosen. To be chosen was to be chosen for a bed once and allowed the chance to grant a greenling’s true name to their lover, to serve them indefinitely with unquestioning loyalty regardless of whether or not the relationship continued as more than simply master and servant. It was predatory at best.

Tater deserved better than that. They all did.

An idea finally struck her. “I met with Leaf a couple of months ago.”

Tater’s attention was rapt, while Squirt kept her eyes on the Pest below. He stood up on his tiptoes as he stepped this way and that, his hands outstretched to catch the last prototype with a bright smile and brighter eyes.

Even if they were the wrong color.

Tater asked hesitantly, “Is… he well?”

Squirt nodded, humming her agreement. “He’s mated.”

Tater’s eyes went wide, a sharp intake of breath.

Squirt glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, the way she was leaning forward on the banister to see Squirt over Puds, before flickering her eyes back to the Pest as he danced to catch the last prototype. “Actually, proudly mated. With a kid and everything.”

“But… I mean… greenlings… no one mates us.”

Puds muttered more darkly, “They should.”

It would certainly be something. After all, it was harder to abuse someone when you had a direct line to their soul. Squirt did glance out of the corner of her eye, noting that Puds was unsurprised about Leaf’s mating status.

“Is… he happy?”

Squirt’s eyes turned back to the Pest. “Mhm. So lovey dovey it made me sick.”

That made Puds snort, her own shoulders relaxing. “I’m glad. He said he was, but I wasn’t sure.”

Tater glanced at Puds. “You knew?”

Puds answered in a soft whisper, “I kept in touch. Letters every five years or so.”

“Huh.” Her surprise was warranted. Typically, once someone left the collective, while they weren’t shunned, they were also not sought out. They became outsiders.

Like Squirt.

Tater hummed before wondering aloud, “Do you think his mate has a sibling?”

Squirt snorted. “You’d have better luck around here.”

“Really?”

“Mm.” She paused. “Just… don’t jump into it.”

“Like… you and Fel?”

“Mm.”

“Even if they’re your fey?”

She could say it. She could.

But Squirt didn’t think any of them were ready for that revelation. “Especially if they’re your fey.”

Tater’s eyes tracked back down to the Pest, and Squirt almost smiled as he closed his fingers around the egg, holding it aloft like a prize he’d won. A chorus of amused titters made their way around the room as he stood there, his chest puffed out in unearned and exaggerated pride. The center of attention.

Squirt’s total opposite.

Finally, the words came to Squirt, quiet, soft, a whispered confession. “I think it’s better this way.”

Tater hesitated before asking, “What is?”

“Our freedom isn’t cheap. It costs us much more than it costs them. To give ourselves to someone else so completely shouldn’t be done lightly.”

Puds smiled, bumping her shoulder more forcefully into Squirt’s. “Glad you finally agree.”

Tater studied Squirt’s profile. “Is that why you’re making him wait?”

Squirt shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve never been a convenience for him.” The same pun she’d used before to describe her relationship with Zhadin.

Puds leaned her head onto Squirt’s, her arm wrapping around Squirt’s shoulder. “And yet he’s still here.”

Squirt leaned into the hold for a moment before straightening and pulling away. “For now, anyway.” She turned to head down the stairs. “Come on.”

It was an invitation that both Puds and Tater took, Puds linking her arm through Tater’s and murmuring quietly about Leaf’s new life. Normally, it would be considered rude to talk about a greenling’s life without that greenling here and present, particularly one that had left the collective.

But things were changing faster than their traditions could keep up with. And the longer Squirt was in Everwinter, the more she questioned what values those traditions still had. Their origins and purpose.

The crowd of greenlings parted, allowing Squirt to reach the Pest finally. She noted the soft, warm smile on his face, wistful though it was, clearly happy that she had managed to connect with her people even if it excluded him. He held up the cloth prototype in his hands, the other two floating along on either side of him, the bulkier of the two broken into several pieces.

Squirt accepted the cloth prototype she’d be crafting, mentally making notes of what she’d need from Quint as a result. “The other two can be put in my room.”

He nodded, the two other failed prototypes floating themselves up and over the banister, through the open door of the room she had claimed.

She noticed his eyes flickered to Puds over her shoulder.

Squirt glared. “We didn’t fuck.”

He blinked repeatedly. “I didn’t think you did?”

What? Then what was the wistfulness?

Her bewilderment must have showed on her face, as he chuckled, shaking his head. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged with a smile. “They occupy space in your heart I wish to share.” He nodded to the device in her hands. “I’m glad that Zhadin was there to help you.”

There was a twist of envy to his words he couldn’t hide, as much as he tried to.

“You were busy.”

“I am trying.” His eyes scanned happily over the cavern that was slowly going back to its normal activities, the prototype experiment now over. “Greenlings work harder than any fey I’ve ever known. It is hard to keep up.”

He thought for a moment. “Ah, but I can be not busy for you. If you wish. Always.”

It was irritating his Common was genuinely improving. That meant he was capable of change, and that meant admitting her own feelings were changing. “I’m aware.”

The moment between them was broken when a murmur broke out, drawing Squirt’s eye to Berry as she exited the library tunnel, her breath coming in puffs of someone who had rushed but not run.

Squirt’s eyes hardened. Hands touched hers, and she snapped her eyes to the Pest as he gently took the prototype from her. He smiled, taking a step back and lifting it up. “I’ll put this with the others.”

He didn’t wait for her, turning to head up the staircase without a backwards glance.

Pushing thoughts of him to the back of her mind, Squirt trotted towards Berry, her features schooled and fluster forgotten. A few others followed, again sensing the drama based on the tension in Berry’s shoulders. Squirt’s attention sharp, she noted the touch of worry in Berry’s eyes, covered by a veneer of wariness and polite dislike. A tolerance of someone in her orbit she saw the value in even if she did not personally care for Squirt.

Squirt reached her, asking, “What happened?”

“The lady I serve and the hapless fey who loves her have returned from an emergency trip to a Southern village. Their eyes are haunted, and they’ve called for you in the lord’s office.”

Squirt gave her a nod. “Let’s not make his lordship wait, then.”