Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
He’s protecting me.
“Hey, hey,” I say in a calm voice. “It’s okay. That’s just an image of someone. They’re not really here.”
“Dakotah,” he growls, putting his hand up to halt me.
“No, really, it’s fine.” I take a few more hesitant steps forward and touch his hand with mine when I get close enough. I lower it gently and continue to creep forward. “It’s all just a big misunderstanding. Let me show you.”
Not taking my eyes off him, I slowly pick up the cardboard cutout and hold it up. He growls again, but I turn it to the side and show him that it’s flat. “It’s not a person. It’s just a picture.”
He clearly doesn’t understand. He takes the cardboard in hand, and then tries looking behind it, as if he can see where the “man” is hiding. It’s adorable in a way, but I get his frustration. How do I explain a photo when we have so few words between us?
I think for a moment and then take his hand. “It’s like a mirror, a bit. Come on, I’ll show you.”
He looks down at my hand on his, where I’ve grabbed him for a second time. For a moment, I think he’s going to jerk away, but instead, he curls his fingers tighter around mine, his claws just gently scraping against my skin. He’s incredibly warm, his hand hard and big, enveloping mine like an oven mitt. I take a few wobbly steps over the spilled mess on the pharmacy floors and point to the door in the back, where the bathroom is located.
Luckily, the door is still on its hinges and there’s another hole in the roof here. It means the bathroom floor is mucky and full of debris and twigs, and there’s a bird’s nest perched atop the corner of one bathroom stall. But there’s enough light to see by, and I head inside and swipe my hand over the mirror to wipe the dust away.
“Mirror,” I tell Murr. “See it?”
He jerks in surprise the moment he sees the reflections, and I watch his eyes go black instantly again. Uh oh.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “Look!”
I put my thumb to my nose and wiggle my spread fingers like I’m one of the Three Stooges.
Murr looks at me in shock, then back to the mirror. I flap my arms like a chicken, and then wave a hand, making my movements dramatic so he can see that the mirror reflects each one. After flicking a few glances back and forth, he lifts a hand tentatively and then looks down in fascination when he sees it reflected. After a few motions of his hand, he approaches the mirror and touches it.
“It’s glass,” I tell him, and tap on it. “It’s not real. It’s us, but not.”
He points a claw at my reflection, then at me. “Dakotah…Dakotah?”
Is he asking if there’s two of me? “Just one.” I pat my chest. “Dakota.”
His eyes narrow and he looks back to the mirror. He tries to peer around the side and then knocks on the front of it.
Ooh, that gives me an idea. I indicate that he should wait here and then rush back to my bag to get the small compact I carry everywhere with me. Not that I’m vain enough to need a mirror wherever I go—but small things like that are good bargaining tools or gifts if I run into other humans, and so I always keep one on me. I retrieve it and head back to the bathroom, where Murr is leaning over the counter and has his ear to the mirror, listening.
“It’s a reflection,” I tell him, and pop the compact open, showing him the small mirror inside. “See?”
He takes it from me, eyeing his face in it, then in the larger mirror. He turns the compact over and over, as if trying to “catch” the person on the inside. His brows furrow and he glances up at me. “Murr no?”
Oh, did he learn the word for no? That helps. I touch the mirror. “Murr no.” I touch the compact. “Murr no.” I touch his chest. “Murr yes. Understand?”
Murr nods slowly, then taps the compact. “Murr no?”
“Right. That’s a reflection. Reflection.”
“Reefessun,” he agrees, then squints at the image in the mirror, as if noticing the way his mouth moved for the first time. “Reefshun.”
Hmm. I worry I’m giving him the wrong word. I circle the entire compact in the air with my finger. “Reflection.” Then I point at my mouth. “Lips.”
He tilts his head, fascinated. “Lifffs.”
“Lips,” I repeat again, touching my mouth. “Dakota lips.” Then so it’s clear, I reach out and touch a fingertip to the corner of his mouth. “Lips. Murr lips.”
“Liffs,” Murr says again. He touches my nose, a question in his eyes.
“Nose,” I tell him.
“Nowd,” he parrots, then points at his mouth once more. “Liffs.”