“It’s a beautiful day, let’s go on a picnic!”
Braedon looked out at the golden sun and clear blue sky, then back at his beaming wife. “It’s already 30 degrees out there and it’s not yet nine. We’ll cook.”
“We’ll go to the lake.”
“Along with half the rest of town. The others will be in the shopping centre for the aircon.”
Summer rounded the breakfast bar and leaned over the back of the sofa to wrap her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“Then you think of something fun to do. You were the one saying you needed to work on being more spontaneous.”
Why had he said that? He didn’t want to be spontaneous, he liked things to be organised, planned, and scheduled.
He huffed and leaned his head back. “Come back when I’ve finished my coffee.”
Summer gave a little wordless grump then kissed his cheek and straightened. “Alright, I’ll pack a lunch for wherever we’re going. When I’m done you can tell me what you’ve decided.”
As she headed back to the kitchen, talons pricked Braedon’s left shoulder and a nasal voice sounded next to his ear. “You should take her to the portal. Introduce her to the High Northlands in midwinter. That’ll be pretty spontaneous.”
Braedon tapped his familiar’s beak to quiet him. Australian magpies were the most cynical, opinionated pains the arse he’d ever come across. Why had Samuel had to incarnate as one?
He’d probably done it on purpose.
The DNA of Stories 