“You’ve learned quite a bit,” Yeller groaned as his sternum popped suddenly.
“You revert to Gaelic when you get moody. What else was there for me to do?” Nat reached for the wastebasket before Yeller was sick.
“Tá brón orm,” he whispered, wiping his mouth. What he never wanted Nat to know was how much it meant to him that he had learned to speak Gaelic with him. No one else had ever bothered. Even Zola refused to speak it with him.
“Ná bíodh imní ort faoi, Yeller.” Nat sat back in the worn out couch. It was a cramped room, Yeller’s drum kit taking up most of the floorspace. They’d be leaving. When would he ever hear Yeller play again? Nat eyed the flaming orange electric guitar in the corner, and the accousit hung on the wall. His heart ached. There would be no room to take any of it with them. He flicked a glance to Yeller’s necklace, a green pick with a hole in it threaded on a black leather cord.
Benj was able to awaken Zola, who seemed to take the transformation easiest. While Yeller fought the transformation, Benj and Zola put together packs for both her cousin and herself. Nat and Deck were able to get a heavy coat and boots on Yeller with only a few minor hitches. Yeller tried to ring his band mates, but no one was answering. After an hour, the group of friends made it out the door. They headed off to a large clearing that they normally met at in the forest off the college campus.
RT @ThorntonGibsonK: I can’t wait to read what happens next in The Kavordian Library! – #scifi, #fantasy, #webseries #booksTweet