Ango didn’t have very many tells, but by now, Taako knew them all. The stiffly formal posture, the subtle air of trepidation, and, of course, the word ‘sir’ when referring to himself, Krav, or any other male in the immediate vicinity.

Angus was roughed up, and unfamiliar with his surroundings. “…did I do something bad, sir?” he squeaked. His voice was barely a whisper.

“Aw beans, I’m sorry kiddo. You’re gonna be okay.” Breathe. Focus. Tell the truth and don’t pull any goofs. He had to be careful with his goofs with his kid at this stage of things. “This is my fault. I zigged when I should’a zagged. You just stay put…” he got his first aid kit out of his pack. “I’m gonna ask you a few questions, and some of ‘em might seem silly but I need ya to be honest as you can, okay? I got stuff here to patch you up… can I do that?”

Angus nodded.

“To make it fair, you can ask me questions, too.” Taako cleared his throat. “What’s the last thing you remember before wakin’ up on the floor here?”

“…they gave me my birthday cupcake in the cafeteria, sir…”

“Really? Happy birthday. How old are you?”

“…three years old, today, sir… may i ask? …who are you?”

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Taako almost won the fight to keep the wince off his face. “This is gonna be a little bit difficult to take in, kiddo. Uhm. You’re five now. And… Krav -my husband- and I… we… we adopted you.”

Blam. Blank face. Not betraying anything and shutting down completely. Instant disbelief.

Taako struggled to keep a pleasant and calm demeanour. This was just like the early days, when he had to build trust. This made him want to puke. “This is an antiseptic salve, it won’t sting. Can I put it on your scrapes?”

Gods, he could grow to hate that blank-faced nod. Taako focussed intensely on getting all the scrapes and a small aura around them for the unbroken skin that could still sting.

Taako gained permission to add bandages. He had Caleb Cleveland brand bandages of healing in his kit, something that earned a flicker of surprise from Angus. “It looks like you got hit with a memory spell, sweetheart.” Oops, that was the wrong word to say. “I promise I will never hurt you, okay? There’s an inn near here. Big public space, relatively quiet. Want to go there?”

He hardly moved, but that was a nod.

Taako wracked his brains for all the old solutions that had helped in the early days when Ango was afraid of everything. He dug around in his pack and found what he was looking for. The trust rope. A brightly-coloured, short length of rope, turned into loops at both ends. “I gotta keep you close ‘cause I’m supposed to look after ya, right? So… I trust you to hang on to one end of this, and you trust me to…” his voice cracked, briefly. “You trust me to lead you safely where ya wanna go…”

*

The inn was good. Clean and happy, and full of people but not full enough to be too loud for Angus’ liking. There were nice people here. He sat properly and enjoyed the stew that Mr Taako had purchased.

Mr Taako was very upset. Stressed and close to tears. Worried and scared. He’d ordered the stew and a small beer for Angus, but nothing for himself. He was calling people on his Stone of Farspeech. 

Angus listened to the names. Kravitz. Lucretia. Merle. None of these names seemed familiar to him, unless he counted the Story and Song from the weird light. Mr Taako was from that story, but he didn’t seem like the callous hero he had become during that hundred-year journey. Mr Taako trembled and fought off tears. Something bad had to have happened to someone he cared about.

Because of the spell, Angus didn’t count himself in that group.

He sat politely, quietly, like a good boy. Listening to the inn’s bard. Watching as people arrived to look at him. An old male Dwarf with flowers in his beard and a living branch for one arm and a missing eye with an owl on the eyepatch. He spoke gruffly and was kind’a frightening. Angus had to roll a will save to stay exactly where he was. An older human woman who almost dripped gravitas as she sat with Mr Taako and spoke in a quiet voice.

A man in mostly black arrived and Mr Taako launched himself into the other man’s arms, and buried his face into the black-clad man’s shoulder. The gold band shining from this new stranger’s ebony fingers could indicate that this was the husband ‘Kravitz’ whom Mr Taako had spoken of. He confirmed it by kissing Mr Taako’s brow and murmuring, “It’s going to be all right, love. We’ll solve this. Jus’ breathe, darling.”

The older human woman was casting diagnostic spells, weaving patterns of light around Angus’ head. “The good news is, young Mr McDonald will recover in time.”

Mr Taako didn’t move from Mr Kravitz’s arms. “Gimmie the bad news, Luce.”

A deep breath. A long sigh. “He’s going to need familiarity in order to remember. An environment that he remembers, food… people…”

Now Mr Taako moved. Turning away from Mr Kravitz with tears in his eyes and a snarl on his face. “Find. Another. Way. Like fuck am I sending him back into that hell hole.”

That was some real strong emotion. Angus could believe that Mr Taako had seen the orphanage and really didn’t like it. Angus could begin to believe that he could trust Mr Taako.

The older human woman said, “I’ll get the Bureau of Benevolence onto that dark magic cult your son had found. Mr McDonald? May I have your notebook? The clues you have in there would be a great advantage to us.”

Angus stared at her blankly.

“In your satchel, pumpkin. The… the one with the blue cover and the triangles like this,” Mr Taako showed a silver bracer on his left arm that featured four equilateral triangles making a diamond in the middle.

Angus had a satchel, and hadn’t dared to look in it in case it belonged to someone else. He gingerly opened it and found his own name in the inside flap. There was also a starter wand, a copy of a Caleb Cleveland book he never knew existed, a spare sweater, a mini umbrella… and the aforementioned notebook. Which also had his name on it. It had his writing in it, too. Names, addresses, leads and clues. Just like Caleb Cleveland would do.

Nobody was snatching it off him. Nobody was yelling at him to have it. Ms Lucretia was waiting patiently with one hand open, ready to receive it.

Angus passed it over. He summoned the courage to say, “…i hope you find them, ma’am…”

“We will,” said Ms Lucretia. “When we do, we will kick all their asses on your behalf.”

*

The house was a gigantic tree. Elven architecture, which meant that there were no flat walls, no completely level floors, and lots of winding passages between places. There were also a lot of cats who greeted him like an old friend.

“We’re… staying on the ground floor again,” said Mr Taako. “This old house is just like the one my grandfather used to have. Like. Exactly like the one my grandfather… eh, it’s complicated. Long story short, I inherited it via a technicality.” Mr Taako moved into the kitchen like it wanted him in there. It was a huge space, kept warm by the giant Aga stove. Twenty people could have been cooking in there at once and not one of them would bump elbows with another. He got together a bunch of ingredients on a counter and bowls and tools with them. “This is your home, Ango. And I’m cooking up one of your favourites. You can help if you wanna, I–” he sighed. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna.”

Mr Kravitz was looking at Mr Taako like his heart was breaking. “Dove… are you sure? I remember how much this wrecked you the first time…”

“Our boy is worth getting wrecked over,” said Mr Taako. “Again and again and again. I’ll get wrecked until I’m pulp, babe. Look at him and tell me he’s not worth it.”

Mr Kravitz looked at Angus, and did not tell Mr Taako that Angus wasn’t worth it. He said, “So let’s get this show on the road, Dove. I’ll be your happy helper.”

Mr Kravitz did funny voices that made Angus want to giggle in spite of himself. A cat came to sit on Angus’ lap and it demanded pets. Her name was Neopolitan and she was soft and fluffy and so very friendly. She purred really loud and helped Angus feel safe.

It was the smell of baking that brought a sensation of deja vu to Angus. This kitchen wasn’t too big. It was just right. And Taako was trying so hard to be brave about this whole mess. Angus remembered how to pet Neopolitan just so so that she would stretch out on his lap and keep his knees warm and stick her tongue out and drool a little. He’d always thought that was funny.

The taste of Taako’s ginger bread with butter and lashings of honey and cream brought back a vision of Candlenights, after all the presents had been opened. Watching some garbage on the fantasy television. Snuggled up under a big fluffy blanket between Papa and Dad, surrounded by purring and sleepy cats.

“Egg nog,” said Angus, and the memory was gone again.

Papa was pleased all the same. “That’s right, little man. This bread goes fucking fantastic with egg nog. Want me to whip you up some?”

In a snap, he was afraid again. Unfamiliar again. He could almost remember… but it was just out of reach. “…water, please, sir…”

Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz looked… stricken.

“It’s okay to want things,” said Mr Kravitz. “We have lots. We don’t mind.”

Mr Taako said, “I know how you like it… and how to make it so you don’t get troubles.”

Of course he did. Of course he did. They were family now. Family. There had been a huge party and the smallest dog ever and… And he didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who these people were. He didn’t know why there was a cat on him or how he’d got this slice of… something that smelled like home. Something so familiar and not familiar at the same time and it all made him dizzy…

“Cuddle cote?” said Mr Kravitz.

“Cuddle cote,” decided Mr Taako.

They got permission to move him, and the cat protested softly as she was shifted to a couch. The next thing Angus knew, he was in a huge nest of pillows, blankets and mattresses, with Dad reading his favourite Caleb Cleveland book with his character voices, and Papa was fussing over him and he had a broken purr…

…and he remembered being sick. Really, really sick because their asshole neighbour Susan didn’t believe in vaccinations. But it was almost okay because he got to eat jelly and cream and delicious soups and Papa always made it better with a cooled towel…

…and waking up with nightmares of going back into the urine-soaked, permanently damp, cold, grey orphanage from whence he began. He knew it would be okay because Papa was there. Papa was right there with him and Dad could hold him too and help him feel safe and Papa’s purring would lull him to sleep…

…and the care and artistry that went into Angus’ daily bento boxes. Meat and the special cheese and vegetables and fruit, all arranged into scenes from Caleb Cleveland novels. And a special cupcake tucked away in its own container, with a little note that Papa or Dad had written to be certain he wasn’t lonely at school…

…and a bathtub filled with lemon-scented bubbles. Papa was soaked to the skin and laughing as he tickled Angus with the washcloth. He’d never let Angus fall…

“Papa,” Angus breathed. “Papa… Dad… I’m so sorry I forgot everything…”

His parents lunged, wrapping him up in a hug. Papa’s purr got very loud indeed in that moment, but soon gentled to a soft and soothing parental purr.

“We’re just glad you’re okay, baby,” Papa sighed.

“It’s good to have you back,” said Dad.

It was good to be back. Even with liquid happiness leaking out of his eyes.

[AN: Faerun doesn’t have Halloween, but it does have the midsummer festival with the eclipse and all, so I’m going there]

Taako guessed that there would be trouble when he asked, “Excited for the Summer Faire?” and got the answer, “No.”

He cast his mind back to the shittiest places he had ever survived, and the festivals he had been made to participate in, trying to fit his own horrible memories into the traditions of Faerun. “Bigger kids beat you up? Or were they working to be their scariest?”

“Both,” said Angus. “They always put me right in the middle of the games. Like… almost drowning me during apple bobbing. Or going to knock down the cans and then throwing the balls at me.”

“I get the picture.” Taako sucked on his teeth. “We both know none of those assholes are gonna be around to taunt you, but that’s not the point. Y’know… you could have the scariest costume?”

Angus, having learned Disguise Self, cast it and changed himself into the very image of his Aunt Lup when she was in her lich form. He even did the ghostly whisper. “How’s this…?”

“Well. Gotta tell ya. I ain’t scared ‘cause that’s my sister and you’re adorable. That spell only lasts an hour, though. I could go ahead and enchant an Angus-sized red robe to do that for you. Sound good?”

Angus was still for a long time, thinking about it. He eventually said, “Yes, sir.”

Taako didn’t expect much in the way of words from him. Not yet. “You think I’d look good as Caleb Cleveland?”

A shy smile dawned on his face. “Mr Kravitz is already doing Caleb Cleveland, sir. Perhaps a different hero?”

“Got any favourites?”

*

Caleb Cleveland was waiting, hand-in-hand with a tiny, flaming Lup from TV. “Hurry up, Taako!”

“Just a sec’,” he called from within. He emerged in an outfit so bright and loud that it would screw up any stealth check for life. Bright yellow pants with dark pinstripes. Mismatched patchwork vest. Bright blue polka-dotted tie, and an equally mismatched patchwork coat. Taako had a mop of brown curls in the place of his usual golden cascade. “You got any idea how hard it is to get this wig right?”

Angus was giggling.

“Yeah, laugh it up, little man. I’m never leaving your side the entire day.”

It wasn’t far to the local fair, especially not on the estate’s riding deer. Riding on a deer was up on Angus’ top ten as the most exciting thing to do. It was like flying whilst not fearing the end of a spell.

Everything was bright colours and lights and noise, but this was different to the pathetic fair of the orphanage. There were rides and music and stalls and Angus had two people on his side for a change.

Magnus was waiting for them. Dressed up like Taako, as he had been for the past two Summer Faires. This time, it was the red robe version. Full arcanist uniform and the jacket worn like a cape over the robe.

The faire was full of pint-sized Birds; even a few adults. Many fell to the usual standards of witches, warlocks, undead and famous figures from plays or moving scrolls. There were plenty of obvious store-bought costumes. A few dedicated cosplayers, and nobody was looking at Angus like he was target of the day.

A host of kids all looked his way and said, “Whooooaaahhh…”

One jumped up and down, pointing. “Mama, mama, mama, I wanna look like that, next year! Mama, look!”

The mother, a very tired woman in an ineffective vampire costume, wasn’t looking. She sighed, “That’s nice dear,” and kept looking through the stall she was rummaging through.

“Five seconds and you’re already the belle of the ball,” said Kravitz. “Where first?”

“Food? Fun? Frivolity?”

Angus broke his usual silence. “I wanna corn dog anna toffee apple anna cotton candy and I wanna watch Magnus’ Dog Circus.”

“Way to go, kiddo,” cheered Taako. “It’s not a good Summer Faire until you’re biliously ill.”

“You mean like on the tilt-a-whirl?” said Magnus.

“Puh-leez. Your hairy armpits with my signature look? That’s a constitution saving throw right there.”

Magnus laughed uproariously. “Yeah, you got a point. Hey, Ango, you remember Mitzi?”

Angus nodded.

“I need someone to be her hoop. Want me to call on you for the show?”

He didn’t need to think about that. Being part of a circus? That would make this the best day ever.

[AN: Well, now I owe y’all an Ango purring fic. It is continuing on from the last Young Angus fic. The morning after the nightmares before. Tomorrow’s tale will be happening in AO3 just FYI]

Angus yawned as he lay in Mr Taako’s arms. Let Mr Taako finger-comb his hair. His eyes kept wanting to close and the bedding was soft and warm and he felt safe, which was a big deal for him.

Mr Taako had called Angus ‘our boy’. That was a big deal, too.

A soft rumble began in his chest, an echo of the contentment that he was only just now starting to realise he felt. He’d never purred before, not that he could easily recall. For a moment, his purr stuttered and faltered.

Mr Taako kept petting his hair. “It’s okay,” he cooed. “It’s okay. It’s all natural, and it’s always allowed.” As if to demonstrate, he, too, purred. Soft and relaxing and reassuring.

Angus let himself relax. Let all of the trepidation he usually felt evaporate. Let the sensation of safety and security fill him up like one of Mr Taako’s delicious meals. The rumble came back with a vengeance.

Mr Taako gripped him tighter for a little bit, and Angus suspected that more liquid joy was leaking out of his eyes. That thought made him purr even louder. Him and the cats and Mr Taako and the laziness of a relaxed morning when nothing urgent needed to happen.

Eventually, the purring slowed as morning discomforts made themselves known. A full bladder and an empty stomach made rising from their nest a necessity.

As always, Mr Taako offered him choices on how to start his morning. Shower or bath? Cereal, pancakes, or a fry-up? Mint or raspberry toothpaste? Somewhere in the middle of all those choices, including his choice of clothing, Mr Taako got dressed and organised the ingredients for the breakfast of Angus’ choice.

“Sir?” Angus asked in the middle of consuming his scrambled eggs. “Why are you soft and I’m loud?”

Mr Taako chuckled. “Oh, I can purr real loud from time to time,” he said. “Loud purrs are what happens when Elves feel totally safe and content. Let their family know by purring as loud as they can. You got yourself quite the engine, there, by the way.”

Angus didn’t want to think that something was causing Mr Taako to not feel safe and content. “So… you don’t have much of an engine?”

Mr Taako bit his lip. “It’s… uh… It’s a little different when an Elf is feeling parental, the purr… it gets softer. To help the child feel… well…”

“More content and secure?” prompted Angus.

“Yeah,” said Mr Taako. “That.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t have an easy time saying things, sometimes, kid. Angus. ‘Specially three small words like… I and love and you. In that order.”

“It’s okay, sir,” said Angus. “I noticed.”

“I don’t care what the judges in all of this say, sweetie, you’re my kid. The purring proves it.”

The rumble in Angus’ chest started up again with that statement.

[AN: You skipped a few words there, but I can see them. “His arms” right?]

For the first three overnights, Angus was nearly mute, very rarely expressing himself with words. For the first week away from the orphanage, he gradually got bold enough to speak in complete sentences. That was when prospective parents decided that he was too much work and went looking for easier children to adopt.

Therefore, it was the second week-long stay with Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz that Angus started having nightmares. Vivid ones that didn’t always go away when he woke up. Or ones that continued when he woke up, and woke up, and woke up again.

Mr Taakko clued on inside of two nights. “Never got this far, huh?” he said, his hands busy with something pastry-based. Mr Taako cooked his emotions and stress always made for the airiest desserts. He wasn’t stressed because of Angus, he explained, he was stressed about Angus. No small child should have to endure this horseshit, he had said. Frequently. “Scared we’ll throw you off for a better model, trade you in or whatever.” He exchanged one bowl for another, whipping and whipping and whipping at some cream. “No matter how often I tell you it ain’t happening, it’s still hard to believe, right?”

“You hit the nail on the head, there, sir.”

Mr Taako nodded, his hands never stopped working. Putting his stress and worry into frothing up assorted batters or rolling flat assorted doughs. The hands moved on their own as Mr Taako thought out loud. “I gotta tell you, kiddo. I hardly went through that. I always had my sister to show my I wasn’t alone, that I always had someone on my team.” Fold, fold, fold, went his hands, then dish, dish, dish as he filled folded pastry with something he’d literally whipped up. “You need someone who’s just… there.” He said. “Up for a potential-family sleepover in the cuddle cote tonight?”

Angus understood most of those words, but in context, together, they sounded like nonsense. Especially ‘cuddle cote’. “What’s a cuddle cote, sir?”

Mr Taako showed him, once he was finished putting the latest chain of creations in the oven. It was a rounded space with a low ceiling. Made for crawling through but mostly designed for laying down or cuddling up in. In the wayback times, a whole family would take up one cote and cuddle and snuggle together. Babies would be in the trundle-pods, off to the sides, never far from someone who could look after them, and never endangered by larger bodies in the cote.

Angus noted that he could fit in some of the larger trundle pods, all scrunched up and secure in his own little bubble. Once he evicted two or three cats, of course.

“If you wanna curl up in there, that’s your prerogative, Ango, but Krav and I will be right here if you need us. Guaranteed me, though. Krav sometimes has to scootch off on Bird Mom business.”

That was… a slightly unnerving wrinkle in things. He could count the Raven Queen herself - a literal goddess - as an adopted grandmother. The chain of illogic evaded him, but it seemed to fit Mr Taako like a glove.

Just like this old Elven farmhouse. Just like all the irregular insanity that seemed to be Mr Taako’s facts of existence.

That night, Mr Taako showed Angus and Mr Kravitz the whole workings of the cuddle cote. How to plump up the mattresses and how to use all the cushions and pillows and blankets. Where the exits were and where they lead to, and how the entire space lit up with fairy lights whenever anyone was awake, or how the whole cote was protected from the worst and messiest of accidents by recently refreshed runes.

Not that Angus had ever had a bed-wetting accident since he was two years old, but it was nice to know that the facility was there. Just in case.

The sleepover included snacks and drinks and quiet talk and funny stories until Angus curled up with one of the cats in his pre-selected trundle pod. Mr Taako tucked them in and then snuggled with Mr Kravitz as the lights got dimmer and dimmer and sleep came naturally as breathing.

Unfortunately, so did the nightmares.

The same ammonia-scented nightmare as always, that he was back in the cold, damp, unfeeling halls of the orphanage. That he’d never left. That his life with Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz was all a fever dream. That he was sick. That he was dying. That nobody cared…

“Angus… Angel. I’m right here. Papa’s right here, honey. You’re having a bad dream. Come on. Come on back to us.”

The fairy lights, subtly glowing runes, and organic curves of the cuddle cote didn’t mesh well with the industrial bareness of the orphanage. Angus was never happier to see Mr Taako’s luminescent mismatched eyes in the half-light.

There was no need to think about it. He just lunged out of the trundle pod and threw his arms around Mr Taako. He smelled of safety. Which, in this case, was of baked goods, cinnamon, and his slightly floral cologne.

Mr Taako returned the embrace, producing a soft and comforting purr. “I gotcha, baby. I gotcha. You want up and out?”

Angus nodded.

Mr Taako lifted him out of the trundle pod, taking the blanket with and sort of rolling Angus between two adult bodies. One dead to the world, so to speak.

“Mrnh?” said Mr Kravitz, sort of rolling over.

“Bad dream. Baby needs cuddles.”

“Mm-hm…” Mr Kravitz scootched up and put an arm around them both. His even breathing and Mr Taako’s gentle purr and both their arms around him made him feel safer than he ever remembered feeling. This time, when he slept, no nightmares could break through.

His next awareness was Mr Kravitz moving and wiping some tears from Mr Taako’s face. “Tears, love?”

“Liquid happiness,” said Mr Taako. “Our boy’s starting to accept us.”

Angus didn’t protest. This was, after all, the reason he was having the nightmares in the first place; because he feared all this wonderful being taken away.

[AN: More on the Young Angus Verse, or YAV for short!]

Some times, it was hard to remember that he was part of the family forever. Times like this, in the middle of the night, when his throat was scratchy and he kept being both too hot and too cold. When he had to get up to pee and almost ralphed with the flashbacks.

He kept smelling pine. He kept seeing grey. He kept feeling the eternal cold and damp of the boys’ ward.

Sick again? Really, Mr McDonald… what are we going to do with you?

Angus drank water, because nobody complained about him needing water, and changed into his warm winter pyjamas and huddled in a tight ball under his blankets. If he just got enough rest, if he was quiet enough, then nobody would punish him for being an ordeal.

If he could pretend it was all normal, then nobody would be rough with him in forcing him to get better.

He woke up with the alarm. Filing out in step with the other boys, to the kludgies where his toes burned in spite of how cold the floors normally were. From there, to the bathroom where he waited to be called.

“Angel? Angus, sweetie, do you need me to get your shower ready? It’s a school day, hon.”

Angus turned and nearly screamed. Mr Thud was talking with Mr Taako’s voice. He looked so angry.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rasping. “Did I miss the nurses call?”

“Nurses?” Mr Thud knelt and a jingle happened when he moved his arms. “Angel… You’re not okay…”

“I’ll be fine,” he rasped. “Don’t keep me away from the sunshine? I didn’t mean it.”

“Ooohhh kay…” Mr Thud’s image crooned. “Tell me five things you see, okay sweetheart?”

Five things. He could see five things. “I see a floor mat. I see a… bathtub…” it wasn’t tin. It was set into the glittering cream tiles. “I see a sink basin. I see… a shower stall…” Mr Thud wasn’t there any more. “I see you, Mr Taako.”

“That’s good, that’s good. I’m gonna put my hand on your noggin, okay? Just real gentle. You go ahead and tell me all about four things you can hear.”

Jingle jingle jingle, went his bangles. “I hear your jewellery. I hear… Mr Kravitz feeding the cats.” He closed his eyes. “I hear the kettle boiling. And I hear the upper branches creaking.”

“That’s very good, Angus. I’m gonna touch you on the side of your jaw and neck. It’s okay to let me know if it hurts. If you can, tell me about three things you can feel.”

Angus reached out. “I feel th’ glass of the shower stall. It’s nice an’ cool. I feel your hands… ow…”

“Sorry, baby.” Mr Taako got way more gentle.

“Your hands are nice and soft.”

“Uhuh. One more thing you can feel. You can do this.”

He rubbed the fabric of his pyjamas. “I can feel soft, warm flannel.”

“Excellent. Give me a big sniff and tell me two things you can smell.”

“I can smell your cologne… and… there’s jam cooking? Strawberries?”

He wasn’t Mr Taako. He was Papa. He’d been Papa for some time, now. “That’s great,” he cooed. “Can I  pick you up?”

Angus nodded, leaning into the hold. His world felt so much safer with Papa holding him. Especially when Papa held him between Dad and himself.

“Last thing. What does your mouth taste like, now?”

Angus flexed his tongue in his mouth. “Morning funk. I didn’t brush my teeth.”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart.” They were headed towards the big cuddle cote, where it was always a nice temperature and half the cats spent their nap times.

“‘S a school day. I’m s’posed’a go t’ school.”

“Not any more. Change of plans.” Papa stopped. “Krav? Can you call the school? We got a case of swellneck here. I think the modern name is mumps?”

“On it, babe,” said Dad. He started dialling a frequency on the nearest Stone of Farspeech.

“I got mumps?” Angus croaked.

“Yeah. Not your fault. I blame Susan and her anti-vax friends. You were going to get your boosters next week, but…” Papa sighed. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

It was nice in the cuddle cote. It was always nice in the cuddle cote. Room enough to sprawl out and laze around with up to ten adults. Angus picked a space where the household cats weren’t napping and got as comfy as he could.

Papa used Prestidigitation to heat one piece of towelling and cool another. Angus got to pick which one felt the best around his swollen neck. The warm one made him feel better.

“The bad news is, you’re out of circulation for a week or two,” said Papa.

“The good news,” said Dad, entering with a tray, “is you get all the ice cream, custard, and jelly you want.”

“And soup,” said Taako. “Can’t forget soup.”

Angus had a smile despite how horrible he was feeling. This wasn’t the orphanage any more. It would get easier to remember that as time went by.