Page 61 of Pyg

Ash pointed to herself, “Me?”

“Yeah, he thinks you’re Taylor Swift,” said Alice.

George spluttered a laugh, coughing out a bit of grape skin.

“Oohkay,” said Ash as she picked up George’s file from the end of the bed and flicked through the pages. “How are you feeling?”

George stifled a yawn. “I’ve been better. Everything is still hazy. I’ve no idea how I ended up out there, lying in the road. I’m just grateful that Alice stopped.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ash said without looking up from the notes. George nudged Alice’s arm.

“Stop it,” she mouthed at him.

“You had your MRI this afternoon?”

George nodded; his eyelids were starting to droop.

“Good. You should get an update tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Doc,” George said through another yawn.

Alice squeezed his hand. “I’m going to let you get some rest.”

George gave her a sleepy smile.

* * *

Pyg charged ahead, pushing through the tall grass in the meadow, her bushy tail swishing like a flag.

“Pyg, wait,” George called, breathless because he’d been running after her for so long. The blistering sun beat down and the further he ran, the hotter the sun felt, like he was getting closer to it. His legs powered him on and on, only slowing when the green grass started to yellow.

No longer a meadow, but a crop so tall and thick he could no longer see Pyg’s tail. He could hear her panting. Or was that the sound of his own breath?

“Pyg, come back,” he yelled and doubled over with the effort.

“George,” came a voice from behind.Bernard?

George looked around, but the crop was taller than he was, thick golden stems in every direction.

“George,” called the voice again.Mum?

The crop rustled around him. He spun, trying to locate the source.

“Hello, who’s there?” He called out. “Bernard? Mum? Where are you?”

The crop rustled again, and George’s nose twitched at the smell of smoke. He looked down, noticing the grey wisps twisting through the stems, curling around his feet and ankles. His ears tuned to the cracks and pops of a fire taking hold.

A black figure in a trailing cloak darted past, caught in the corner of his eye.

“Wait!” George called out, but the figure had disappeared.

Panic rose in his chest, constricting his throat. Or was that the smoke?

The figure darted past again.Was that a beak? A big black beak.

George ran, holding his arms up to protect himself from the thick crop that whipped at his face, but it was sharp and sliced into his flesh.

“I can’t keep up with you. Please…” George wheezed, but still he ran and ran. His lungs ached with every breath until the air grew fresher and cooler.

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