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[Cezanne Abella]

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(Repost - Happy Thanksgiving and Blessed Harvest, everyone!)
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“It’s huge,” Cezanne breathed.

Arahim didn’t answer, instead taking her arm and pulling her onto his gated patio like an unruly child as she stared, aghast, at the giant turkey. She pulled away and ran to the hedges to watch, a slow smile creeping across her face.

“Bees!” She shouted merrily as she cast Nature’s Fury, and watched the summoned swarm of angry insects give chase to the turkey.

“Bees?!” Arahim fumbled with his book and uttered the spell likewise. His swarm fumbled wide, avoiding the feathered beast altogether. “No, THAT way!” Arahim gestured frantically, as the bees turned and moved in toward him.

Cezanne gave a bubbling laugh, cut short by a squeak as the turkey poked his head inside and dragged her out through the hedges and off the patio. A barrage of squeals followed, punctuated by an occasional giggle, until Cezanne lay seemingly lifeless at the feet of the beast.

“Songbird! I thought we were just casting bees?!” Arahim started to leap the gate as the turkey lost interest in the ragdoll at his feet. As it shuffled off to look for more lively prey, Cezanne crawled away as fast as hands and knees would carry her.

Stumbling into the gate again, she grinned breathlessly. “I got dragged through the hedges and pecked.”

“Mhm.” Arahim looked over the turkey scratches on her forehead, and plucked a twig from her hair unceremoniously. “Only you could get dragged through hedges and pecked.”

“Those are all the rage this year in Nujel’m. You don’t like it?” Cezanne pouted, wiping blood from the scratches on her forehead as he examined the twig.

Arahim half smiled and looked back up at her. “Looks like hedge to me.”

[Cezanne Abella]

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“Lean back.” Arahim hovered over her with a warm, damp cloth, examining and cleaning the scratches on her forehead as she tried to comply with his commands.

“Ow.” Cezanne winced.

“I had no idea you were such a baby.” Amusement painted his features as he continued his work.

“You don’t have turkey scratches.” She winced again as he finished up. Outside, a guttural gobble echoed through the wood. Cezanne stood and marched over to the window, throwing it open wide and leaning out to look down, bracing her hands on the windowsill beneath her. “GO AWAY!!” Then, more quietly, “ Stupid turkey…”

Arahim chuckled as he poured two cups of tea and brought her one. “ You know, you’ll have to stay here tonight, now. He’s gotten a taste for you – he won’t go away so easily. Yelling out my window tells him one thing, but flying across the grass toward him says something entirely different.”

“He dragged me out there.”

"So you say…”

Cezanne grimaced.

“The bedroom door locks.” Arahim sipped his tea.

“The bedroom – that’s where he WANTS us to go.”

“Are you suggesting the turkey will be hiding in the bedroom?”

Cezanne looked smug. “He might. If I’m staying, I’m sleeping right here on the rug by the fire.”

Arahim looked down at the bearskin incredulously. “But the door locks….”

She cast a sidelong glance toward him. “No one has ever turned me down for a bearskin rug by the fire before.”

Arahim grinned. “You’ve never offered it to anyone.”

Cezanne furrowed her brow and insolently nibbled the browned edge off a shortbread cookie. “What if he comes for me in the middle of the night?”

Arahim thoughtfully washed down a cookie with his tea, then sighed. “Wake me, and usher me a safe distance away.”