Chapter Eight

Gyro puts his wing around me like a soft, warm blanket. Close contact isn't his thing. A hug........... it's like saying 'Goodbye' or (did I dare hope?) 'I love you'. I didn't understand how a pony with such a hard life could be so gentle. I notice he calls me 'Clocks', instead of Clockwork, like he normally does. Something's up. Instead of hissing and growling, he's talking quietly. He tells me the story behind his hate on romance. I shiver. It's cold out, and I didn't bring a coat or a scarf with me anywhere. He shifts his wing so that it covers the entire length of my body. The back tip of his wing brushes my flank. He retracts the tip quickly, a red tint in his cheeks. He sees the look on my face and hisses, ears flattening against his head. I'd seen him go from soft and gentle all the way to angry and ready for battle in a matter of seconds. He was that fast. I watch his face go through a series of emotions. Confusion, caution, anger, and then, a clear mask of calm.

He's just gonna walk away again, I think sadly. And I'm right. He gets up. Without looking, he motions with a wing.

"Come."

What? He wasn't angry? Odd, even for a former human. I get up, brushing bright green hair out of my eyes. I watch him take off his denim cloak and slide it over me. He wears it almost all the time.

Humans wear clothes almost all the time," he once said, "Unless....." he didn't finish and his face soon became flushed. Now, he finally