Bound by Silver by Celine Jeanjean

Author:Celine Jeanjean [Jeanjean, Celine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Celine Jeanjean

19

I wake up nine hours later, in the early evening, to a slow, rhythmic thudding. At first I’m confused, my eyes still gritty with sleep. It doesn’t sound like someone banging at the door, but I can’t figure what it is. Immediately alert, I quietly climb out of bed, grab one of my razors, and creep towards the stairs.

The sound is coming from the kitchen.

I suggest to the stairs that they don’t creak under my weight and silently make my way down.

I find Hunter in the kitchen, front legs resting on the edge of the sink. He does an awkward hop so he can get high enough to very quickly lower his head into the sink. And then another hop.

He’s trying to eat my remaining noodles. Of course he is. I fed him before going to sleep, but if there’s food, Hunter eats it. Whether he’s hungry or not isn’t a consideration.

I check my phone—no messages, which is a relief. Chai would have contacted me if anything had gone wrong. No responses to any of my messages to Mr Sangong, either. Shocker.

I take Hunter out for a quick walk, feeling a twang of guilt at how little time he’s had out these last couple of days. “When this is done, we’re going for a big excursion out,” I tell him. “And I won’t even get annoyed if you roll in poo.” He wags his tail and licks me excitedly, although probably in response to my tone, not my word. He doesn’t even answer to his own name, after all.

When we get back I tend to the rest of the menagerie, which means extricating Fergie the tortoise from the bucket he's gotten himself stuck in, face down (how? Seriously—how??) and feeding everyone else. Percy, my guinea pig, squeaks 'lettuce' at me in Morse code. In short, all is normal.

The pari-pari youngling, Zer, still seems quite happily settled in my courtyard. I don’t know how long she’ll be with me, whether she will go to the forest one day, or if this is her environment now. I’m still mostly sure it’s a female, although sometimes it feels more like a boy. It’s quite disconcerting.

The youngling is currently sitting in the miniature pond that my male Asian painted frog lives in, the water reaching the pari-pari’s belly. The frog is on top of her head, using the elevated perch to sing for a mate so his voice will project further.

Maybe one day I’ll find him a girl frog who’ll respond to his singing. Bless him—he does try hard.

Zer’s skin pattern has changed recently, turning the mottled green of an algae-covered rock—maybe a result of spending so much time sitting in the pond. Her stiff, straw-like hair remains, though.

“You okay, Zer?”

She ignores me, her attention wholly focused on the frog sitting on her head. I still haven't figured out what on earth she eats, either. I've run the full gamut of foods and I haven’t seen her eat anything. She’s still alive and seems well, so I'm obviously doing something right.

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