(Gideon is talking with a duck… just go with it.)
Gideon reached up and touched his tags, then dragged them out from under his shirt to worry at them with his fingers. He wasn’t out of places to go. He wasn’t sure in what direction he should head next if this didn’t work out.
“It shouldn’t be that frightening.” But it was. This was the first place he’d been that he’d seriously considered staying. He’d liked the pack in Texas and had been disappointed when they said they weren’t looking for new members, but not disappointed enough that he would have stayed in their town despite them saying no.
Mainly, because they’d pointed him this direction and given him hope that maybe here was a place to belong. Something inside him had pushed him forward still and been happy with a concrete direction.
“He’s just the leader of the whole group and if he tells me I have to go, I have to go.” Gideon sank down. Hope was a hard thing. He didn’t want his hopes dashed. Part of him didn’t want to leave now that he’d arrived. He was close, so close he could taste it.
“Mother is going to have a fit. They’re bikers,” he said. He wasn’t sure entirely what that meant, but his mother had always said the word with a tone of disapproval and his father had called them murdercycles for as long as he could remember. “I don’t want to go, but if I don’t join, I can’t stay and what if they don’t want me?”
The duck poked him again.
Gideon ignored it and closed his eyes to soak up the sun. “I mean, bikers? Bikers? Why bikers?”
The duck tilted his head, the eyes narrowed on their target. The head snapped out and the bill opened and bit down on Gideon’s finger.
Gideon’s eyes snapped open. “Ow!” he said, and he reached over, grabbed the duck around the body and threw it away from him.
“Ungrateful avian!” He sat up and shook his finger to try and get the blood flowing in it and then examined it carefully to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Fine. I’ll go. I’ll go talk to Brand and see if he’ll let me join,” he told the duck. Ducks were almost as mean as chickens.
The duck quacked at him and rushed at him.
Gideon’s hand reached out again and once again grabbed the duck around the body. He threw it away from him again.
The duck flapped its wings and landed several yards away. They glared at each other. Gideon stood up and grabbed the popcorn bag. What the hell? It couldn’t be as bad as a battle right? No explosions, no bullets whistling past his head? And if this place didn’t want him, maybe he could get a recommendation for somewhere else.
He walked away from the pond and looked back over his shoulder at it. The duck looked back at him and finally waddled off to find food someplace else. Gideon sighed. Yeah, he and the duck knew that he didn’t want to find somewhere else. He was tired of running.
(Gideon… this is probably a bad idea…)