A Little Change (4/?)

The shenanigans continue. Jacob really has no idea just what he’s gotten into with a giant Bowman.


Jacob winced and braced his hands more securely against Bowman’s grasp when the whole hand suddenly lurched upwards. Bowman held him before his face again, confusion clouding his expression. “See anything?”

“Haven’t really had a chance to look,” Jacob answered with a shrug. Bowman’s impatience was familiar, but much harder to deal with now. Normally he’d be flitting all around while Jacob was the one standing on the ground.

He twisted around in Bowman’s grip to get a better look of their surroundings. The ground didn’t look much different from what Jacob was used to. From up in the air, it looked as overgrown and springy as usual.

Nothing like the jungle it would be if Bowman were to put him down. He took a steeling breath and thanked whatever luck he had that he hadn’t been alone when he shrank down.

“I didn’t really notice anything over where I was standing, either,” he admitted, turning back to face Bowman.

Bowman frowned thoughtfully. He glanced around again, his hand lowering to his chest level without any warning. Jacob heaved a terse sigh. If things weren’t already so weird, he’d probably be asking Bowman to slow down a bit with his movements.

Like Bowman was always griping at him to do. Apparently, Bowman hadn’t brought those considerations with him when he rose up to his new height.

“Should we go to the village? Maybe Rischa or Cerul would know something,” Jacob suggested. He was close enough to Bowman’s chest to hear his heart beating. It pounded away, faster than Jacob would expect but not racing. Bowman was alert.

The super-sized sprite shook his head. “I don’t think we should go to the village just yet,” he replied. “Not empty handed. We haven’t even really looked for an answer yet.”

Jacob smirked. “Not to be contrary or anything, dude, but you’re definitely not empty-handed.”

Bowman shot him a flat look. It was like looking at a magnified version of what he knew. Jacob had earned that look many times before. At least that hadn’t changed. He could still annoy the sprite.

“If I had pockets I’d drop you in one for that,” Bowman grumbled, though the threat sounded like it left a weird taste in his mouth. He’d never in his life had to consider being able to pocket someone before.

Jacob had never had to consider being pocketable before. “Well, that’s one point for me, then,” he boasted, though he was caught up just like Bowman in how weird it all was.

They both paused there in the middle of the forest, surrounded by the completely normal sounds that always accompanied them, and pondered how completely not normal their day had turned out to be.


Bowman turned his head this way and that, willing something to catch his eye. Many things did, but for all the wrong reasons. A butterfly fluttered near some low flowers, it’s wings no wider than a couple of Bowman’s fingers. If he were to flap his own wings, he could blow it away.

Birds called to each other up in the branches, and Bowman looked up. Normally, he would be dodging among the leaves up there, brushing his wings against them and flowing around the branches as he followed the air. It was his place in the forest. His wings were meant to blend in up there.

The limbs in question twitched in morose agreement. One of them knocked into the low hanging branch nearby, and the caterpillar on it nearly lost its grip. Bowman glared at the branch, then at his wing.

Then he looked down to his hand.

Jacob was not supposed to look so little and vulnerable. He didn’t even have wings, and his orange hooded jacket stood out against the forest surroundings. At his normal ridiculous, gigantic height, that wasn’t a problem. He could drive predators away just by standing there being big.

Now, he was way too small for that, and Bowman had taken up the mantle of being too blasted big. He wasn’t fond of the role reversal. Neither of them won. Jacob couldn’t tromp around being as stalwart as a tree, and Bowman couldn’t fly among the trees.

Unless …

That’d be a bad idea … but when else am I gonna have a chance?

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