Who: Herbert and Sammy
Where: The walk to school.
When: Morning, before school.

The pleasant weather Marquette had been graced with the past few days seemed to have run out. Today was gray outside and oh-so-dreary, and Sammy - as he reached up to run his hands through non-existent curls - thought that the weather would have been more fitting for the day before. He dropped his hand from the cornrows and gripped the straps of his backpack instead as he trudged along, wondering what time he would see Herbert today. He'd found the note - right where he'd left it on top of his bookshelf - and even remembered to bring it along, so it would be a shame if he didn't see the werebear today. He hitched his broken backpack up further then as he picked up the familiar 'were' scent he picked up his pace.

Herbert was actually waiting for Sammy this time, at a point where he knew their two paths to school would intersect, leaning on his bicycle and watching the street-- the wind was the wrong direction for him to catch a scent. He hadn't forgotten that he'd suggested they walk to school together when they could, and since he wasn't running late yet, he figured he'd see if they couldn't do it today.

He didn't spot Sammy immediately; his limited vision was more focused on looking for curls than cornrows and beads, and that far away he couldn't make out his face very well. So he glanced at the boy turning the corner but didn't really think much of him before getting back to watching the occasional car going by.

Remembering Herbert’s comment about bad eyesight from Sunday, Sammy stepped up his pace, reaching Herbert’s side quickly. He leaned in to poke the older boy – teasingly – in the ribs as he waved a quick hello, then let his backpack slip off of one shoulder. So, Herbert found, now he just had to search for the note in the black hole that served as his back pack.

As he caught up to him, Herbert gave the hair-braided boy a second look and blinked. "Sammy!" he laughed a little. "What did you do? I almost didn't recognize you." Well, okay, didn't recognize him, but that was a bit much to say. "I can't ruffle your hair anymore." Which was sadness, because he liked doing that.

If Sammy could have snickered, he would have, but all he did was smirk in a way reminiscent of the cat who ate the canary. When you though about Sammy being a raven, that made the expression just a little odd, but it was truly the best way to describe his expression. He managed to hook a notebook, first, and paused in his note-searching long enough to write his own note to Herbert. “I didn’t do anything!” The smirk quirked his lips upwards a bit more, then melted from his face - no smiles or smirks were staying long this morning. “Geo did this. And it’ll come out eventually. Then I’ll find you and let you ruffle it.”

"Just wanted a bit of a change, eh?" Herbert said with a smile. It'd definitely take some getting used to, he thought, though it'd make him much easier to find by sight alone. He didn't think anyone on campus had hair like that. "Do you like it? Have you done this before?"

Sammy answered him once he’d re-pinned his backpack shut, the note folded and in between two of his fingers as he held his notebook. “Yeah, not since we moved here – you know that, though, since you haven’t seen it – but I’ve done this before. It’s easier…” He stuck his tongue out at Herbert. “I mean, I don’t have people sticking their hands in my hair, so it stays a whole lot cleaner.”

Not really being one to pick up on a subtle joke, and more concerned with upsetting people than looking for that humor, Herbert looked apologetic. "If it bothers you, I won't do it, Sammy," he said. It was just such a tempting tumble of curls-- but he could resist. Now he'd just have to resist the urge to pluck up a braided, beaded end of hair and chew on it, but he was more used to resisting that one.

There wasn’t another note for a few moments while Sammy blinked slowly at Herbert, expression a mixture of bemused and serious. Finally he ducked his head over his notebook then turned it around towards him, the sentence underlined. “…I’m kidding, Herbert!” He turned it back around so he could write another note on a clean sheet of paper. “If it actually bothered me I’d wear a sign that said ‘don’t touch the hair,’ so everyone would know.” Hair he was honestly fine with people petting. Feathers, though, were a different story.

The underlining made Herbert chuckle a bit. "Oh. Sorry about that. I'm a bit slow, sometimes." He shook his head at himself, smiling-- though hey, at least now he knew hair-tousling was safe. "So how are you?" And was that little piece of paper he was holding Fallon's note?

“I’m…” Lousy. Had another nightmare, and boy was it was the opposite of fun! “Not bad.” Sammy smiled a little. “The weathers awful, but…whatever…” He held the folded paper towards Herbert, smoothing at the creases in it. “This is Fallon’s note.”

It was! Herbert took it carefully, catching the Fallon-smell as he did so, and unfolded it to read. The handwriting was definitely familiar.

Sammy,

PS. Tell your brother, he's still a drumstick!

Herbert frowned, wondering briefly which boy this was who had bruised his friend and whether he could smell him out to give him a good telling-off. Or pounding, whichever. Then he sighed a little, ruffling his own hair as he looked back up at Sammy. "Do you still have the horse?" he asked.

Sammy did, and he nodded, red and white beads bouncing against the back of his neck. “Yeah,” He frowned for a minute as he thought, then half-smiled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at his backpack. “It’s in there for right now. Do you want to see it?”

"May I? It did come from the mine. I don't know how much you know about that, but it was the place people disappeared at, before they came back." He still didn't have a proper explanation, but really, he didn't care all that much. "And a lot of the things that came out smelled like magic."

“What does magic smell like?” Sammy asked him curiously, then slid his arms completely out of the backpack straps to let it drop to the ground. “Smoke and dust?” He looked up at Herbert. “’cause that’s what it smelled like to me…” He unpinned the bag, frowning. So it was – maybe – a magic rocking horse?

"Like a lot of things," Herbert said, crouching beside Sammy's bag, too. "Stacey's magic smells like vanilla and candles. Some of the things in the chest the horse came from smelled like fire and movement and those funny lights that make white glow purple. You don't smell things like that?" He'd been assuming it was a species thing, smelling magic-- and the other weird association-smells he made-- but if Sammy couldn't....

“I smell a lot of things…” He reached inside to hook the little horse which was resting on top of everything, and hold it out to Herbert. When he accepted it, Sammy sat back on his heels. “But I haven’t been in contact with many magic things or magic people…” He looked over at Herbert. “At least I don’t think, anyhow…might have, though. They might be the people who smell weirdest. Like the ones who smell like ozone and blo--stuff…” Blood came from his dreams. “Yes?”

"Some people do smell weird," Herbert agreed. Not caring that it might look a bit funny, he held the toy up under his nose and gave it a very thorough scent-investigation. "I think this one's okay. It smells a little vanilla-y, and not at all like the fire stuff or the stuff I couldn't even guess what it smelled like." He paused, then grinned a little. "And a lot like horse." And a lot like Fallon. But he wasn't going to say that; it was an obvious scent, and it actually made him a little sad. Fallon had really kept this with him all the time, hadn't he, for it to smell so much like him? He offered the toy back to Sammy. "If it smells like Stacey-magic, I'm betting it's okay."

Sammy took it, holding it up to his own nose as he remained crouched. “Vanilla-y,” he agreed as he gently settled the horse back in the bag. “And like a specific horse. Artfully Dun!” A small grin was turned towards Herbert. “That’s the horse we took out to the beach when I found the duck eggs!” He looked down and realized what he’d written without thinking about it, then shrugged. “Don’t tell Geo about the eggs, yet? He doesn’t know…” He asked before setting about pinning the bag shut again with the old diaper pins his mother had found yesterday.

"He was going to show me how to ride," Herbert said, a little sadly. "He even had a big horse who didn't think I smelled too scary." He shook his head with a little sigh, and tried for a grin. "I won't tell Geo about the eggs if you show them to me sometime before they hatch."

“Maybe we can go to the farm?” Sammy saw the sad look and wanted to make it go away – he, himself was feeling a bit better at the moment. “We’ll ask him what the horse he thought you could ride’s name was and…yeah.” He shrugged, hoisting his bag over his shoulder as he stood. “The eggs, you can definitely see. They’re in the laundry room – it’s warmest there.”

"Magnus is his name. He's huge. D'you think they would?" It'd probably make Fallon happy, if he knew, off in Salem-- where was Salem? it sounded vaguely familiar, but only vaguely-- and maybe Sammy could come, too. It would probably cost money, but it would also let him look into which boy had made Fallon leave. Hmm. A thought. He stood, too, and glanced at his watch. It was a big, heavy looking thing, rather like the rest of him, but anything else would have looked too small. He winced a little. "We're gonna be late if we walk."

Sammy reached out so he could see the watch, too, turning Herbert’s arm toward himself then letting go. He blinked. “Yeah to both things…I think they would, and…” he looked upward at the sky, then back at Herbert, already hearing his mother if he was late for school on top of breaking his bedroom door and getting rid of his bed. “Yeah, late, too. I’m going to be in trouble…”

Amused by the familiar grab and turn-- not that he minded one bit-- Herbert said, "Here." He swung up over his bicycle seat and settled his backpack more comfortably on his back. "We'll go faster if you ride with me, eh? Hop up on the handlebars." He patted them lightly. "I used to carry my cousins around like that." So it was safe, and all.

“Okay, I want to make sure of one thing, first.” He held up his finger – one thing. He’d ridden on Geo’s handlebars before, and… “You won’t go trying to ride this over a curb or into a window, right?” Once he had Herbert’s word, he’d agree, but not before. He really didn’t feel like having to bail out if the bike went careening off in some direction. Though, if Herbert rode with his cousins like this, then it had to be alright…possibly…

The look Herbert gave him was confused. "No, why would I do that?"

Sammy gave him a sunny smile as he shrugged. “No reason, really, but ask Geo!” He declared before he shoved his notebook into his backpack, his pen into his pocket and clambered up on the handlebars. He looked over his shoulder at Herbert and waved his hand in a teasing, “onward!” gesture.

Thinking that he probably would, if he remembered, Herbert chuckled and, sitting up straight to see over little Sammy's shoulder, pushed off from the curb and took off. "Hold on," he warned with a smile, and he started picking up speed. They might not even be late, now, if they were lucky.

Riding on the handlebars of someone’s bike was second best after swings in Sammy’s opinion. He gripped the bar he sat on and tucked his feet out of the way so he wouldn’t trip up the bike, and when the school came into view he gave a small, silent cheer. Okay, so, maybe he wouldn’t be late!