For a moment I just stared up at him, words, as I’d said, short in supply. Or maybe the tongue assault had eaten up my ability to speak. Was I to be mute from here on out?
Old Mother had given me a few of the facts about what went on between a woman and a man, but I was thinking that she might have left out a few details. She had never once mentioned a man’s tongue. I would have remembered that.
The officer was still staring down at me. My body was limp. Had he taken my energy away with my voice? I guess we would have remained in that position, me, lifeless as a dead bird, and the officer, muscles straining, (Were they?) holding me there in his arms, if Frey hadn’t decided to step closer and investigate this oddness going on next to him. As he was fond of doing, he leaned, his head dropping down to muzzle my face. I guess that was the last pigeon on the roost, the pigeon who sent all the others fluttering up into the air and soaring into the sky.
Only we didn’t flutter. We collapsed.
That didn’t bother Frey. He just sank down onto the ground with us, his legs buckling under him and his massive head still semi-attached to my cheekbone as he continued to nuzzle me for information about what we were doing.
“Ack,” I let out, proving that my voice was still audible, if not profound in its utterances.
The officer issued a very similar noise but in a lower range. He also let go of me, probably because he didn’t want a sniffing muzzle in his face.
“What was that?” I asked, panting slightly, although I had absolutely no idea why. It wasn’t like a tongue swab equaled a run around the town’s grassy square.
“A horse?” he said, looking down at me with star twinkles in his eyes and a huge smile.