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Tiny was using that exact tree to lounge in. She had picked a nice little bed of twigs and nestled herself in them, using a few leaves as padding. A leg was flung over the side of one of the twigs, and she had just about dozed off (a rather dangerous thing to do in the tree, with the birds lurking about looking for fresh insects) when the tree shook.
Tiny blinked, and then peered down. What the-...Was that a person? She sat up, waiting to see if said person was moving. He was not. Her eyes widened, and she fluttered down to the bottom of the tree, darting all around his head.
"Are you dead?!" She asked frantically, as though expecting an answer from a corpse. "Oh, no. The tree KILLED HIM!" Tiny wailed, and then sat atop Gin's chest, crawling up toward his face and resting her hands on his cheeks. "Wake up! Hey..." She moved up to sit just on the bridge of his nose, and gave his eyelids a gentle poke.
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Someone was talking to him, it seemed. Or was that what things always sounded like when you were dead, because Gin was very sure he must be dead. Whatever had, or in reality had not, been chasing him surely had caught him by now and gobbled him up... human form or no. When he had been in the fox's belly he had heard voices too, but that was different, he was so very not dead, then.
It was all black wherever he was. It had been black in the belly, too. So, to one of not the highest amounts of intelligence, it seemed likely to reason that he was inside a belly.
Gin flailed his arms around before saying anything, the pressure on his face had to be some kind of strange innard, right? Except that all his arms came in contact with was not the moist dark squishy surface of inside a belly, but the feeling of leaves and twigs and things. He was still in the forest, but how come he couldn't see.
Oh, right. His eyes were closed.
First, one eye opened slow and cautious, then the other. Both landing on the very small young lady perched on his face. The last time this had happened, he had fallen out of a tree and it was that naughty fairy thing who couldn't speak that he would understand. “Uhhh...” was not his most coherent response, but how did one respond to a very tiny woman sitting on your nose?
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So, she was small because that's how she was created. Creation seemed to make more sense than birth, if she came out of a flower. That was kind of similar to how he was created, except that Gin came out of an oven... not a flower. “My... well, I suppose you could call her my mother... she wished for a child too... but... I ran away from them a long time ago. I'm usually very small too, but not as small as you.”
Why was he telling her all of this, Gin never told anybody about how he was created. He didn't trust people. But this girl really couldn't harm him, right? She seemed like she couldn't.
And... things tried to eat her, too! Not that it was good, because it wasn't. It was actually quite bad to think that birds would try to eat a small girl. “I don't know how many try to eat you, but I was eaten once... by a fox.”
Oh, now why did he tell her that?
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Brave? She thought he was brave. Gin almost blushed. It was a rare thing for anyone to say anything like that of him, let alone to him. Actually, it was the only time it had ever happened. “It's not brave,” he said quickly, fighting the embarrassment that was rising with a pink tone into his face. “It's a healthy will to live. You would have done the same if you found yourself in the belly of a fox, I'm sure.”
Would she? Maybe not, Gin didn't know. He didn't even know who this girl was. “I just run away from things now, easier for self-preservation.” Alright, before he said one more word, he should probably find out who this girl was. What if she was a spy?
Wait... be realistic. A spy from where? She wasn't a fairy, she said as much... didn't she? His brain was all flustered, too eager to talk to someone who wasn't threatening that he was forgetting what he knew and what he didn't. “Who are you?” Was that too abrupt and rude?
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