“Go,” he breathed, seeing Crow straighten. He flicked his hand out, like they were tossing a disc back and forth instead of magical attacks.
Again, the water shot forth - but this time, instead of coalescing into a shield, it lashed at Crow in missiles.
He could see it perfectly: the way the water would soak through her boots, her pants. The way it’d freeze her to the ground.
The taste of victory turned to ash in his mouth as Crow skittered back, letting the water hit the ground with a useless splash.
Owl kept running, closing in on Crow. Keep moving. Keep pressing. Don’t let her turn the tables on him.
If she wanted to back up, take that away from her.
His foot slammed into the ground, driving down like a hammer. His hands came up, the fingers arched and digging into empty space.
With a muted roar, the dusty ground behind Crow rose in chunks, shooting up to block out the sky.
He saw her twitch - and her head turned, her expression hidden behind the mask. But he knew he’d done it. He’d surprised her. Now all he had to do was-
When he took another step forward, though, her head snapped back to him. And her hands twisted together, meeting in front of her chest.
Something grabbed hold of his ankle. Owl tumbled to the ground, hitting hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.
Wheezing for air, he twisted far enough to look back - and saw dirt-formed hands grappling at his leg. More and more appeared with every second.
“No,” he gasped, trying to push off the ground, but more clutched his waist, his arms.
A heartbeat later, he lay pinned, staring up at the blurred grey sky overhead and fighting for air.
Footsteps crunched across the dry ground. Crow appeared upside-down in his vision, coming to a stop by his head. “So,” she said. “What did we learn?”
Owl bit back a snarl, blinking away tears that burned at the corners of his eyes. “That- That wasn’t fair.” Each word seared his lungs, leaving an ache in his chest.
Jean kicked at his arm, her chin lifting. “Owl.”
“Just...Just go away.” It wasn’t right. He’d had her, and then...she was being a bully. Again. And that had hurt.
“Come on. Get up. We’re not done.”
“Don’t want to.”
Silence. And then, he heard her sigh.
She hit the ground with a dull thud, stretching her legs out and leaning her head back. “I know it’s rough, kid.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re getting better,” she said, continuing on as though he hadn’t spoken. “Really, you are. If I seem hard on you...it’s just because the world is going to be hard, too.”
Owl sniffed, scrunching up his nose, but nodded. “I-I know.”
“You’ve seen that ass, Bill Parker. I know how he gets.”
He giggled a little at that, the sound warbling and thin. “He’s a jerk.”
“I know. Sorry. Like I’ve said, you don’t have to help him. Just let me.”
Owl nodded again. And she had said that - in the weeks since he’d reamed Owl in the study, Jean had been ready and waiting to step in every time Mr. Parker called. She’d kept the older man away from him, just like she’d promised.
“Y-Yeah.”
“But it won’t just be him,” she said, turning her head toward him. Her eyes were hidden behind the same glassy lenses as studded his own mask, but he knew she was watching him. “The other guests will see you as a child. And...they probably will for a while. It’s going to make things hard for you.”
“But I’m not,” Owl snapped. “I’m not some dumb baby.”
Crow chuckled. “I mean, you kind of are a kid.”
“I don’t feel like one,” he muttered. “So why am I like this? I-I know I’m small, but....why?”
He’d expected another snippy response, a joke or a comeback or something to shut him up. Instead, Crow only rocked her head from side to side, pensive.
“I’ve already told you things work...differently, in here,” she said finally. “You should know that much.”
“I know,” Owl said. He let his head loll to the side, unable to summon the energy to stand. “But that doesn’t-”
“Time works differently, too,” she said. “Like I said. Out there?” She waved a hand toward the blurred wall of the Edge, the end of the Library’s domain. “Outside, your body is young. But in here, well.”
She leaned over again, dropping her hand to rap at the edge of Owl’s mask. “Your body is young still, because it’s young out there, but your mind is getting older all the time. So...it’ll be tough. The others won’t see you like that until your body and soul match up.”
Breathe in, breathe out. Owl blinked, eyes staring into the sky overhead. Outside? And his mind was...old? “So...I’m outside?” he said, his confusion growing. “But I’m here. In the Library. I thought-”
“Ah, it’s complicated,” Crow said, her voice tightening. “Wish I could just tell you, but...it’ll be easier to see it.” Her head drooped forward. “Sorry, kid. The Librarian changeover doesn’t usually work out like this.”
Like what? Owl’s forehead wrinkled, his confusion growing. That didn’t make sense. “What do you-”
“You remember what I told you about the library cards, yes?” Her voice still had that quiet, oddly mournful tone to it, but had twisted to something more businesslike.
“Of course,” he said, starting to sulk. “Four stamps. Each stamp gets them three months. They can get all the stamps in one trip or-”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Crow said, flapping her hand. He stopped. “That’s the ‘inside’. Outside?” Her hand dropped to her lap, and her face stayed pointed right at him. “It’s just a night’s sleep for the visitors.” She chuckled again, sourly. “And for us.”
“But that’d...” Owl shook his head, trying to make sense of it. “That’s a year.”
A year. In the span of...He bit his lip. That was impossible. They were sleeping? But then, this whole time...had he been out there, dreaming? Was
