I am your heavy eyelids

[Barthélémy Aston]

Perhaps Onus could get annoyed at Bart and chase him away so he could look through everything? If Bart hung at the door to watch, maybe he would be able to figure out that Onus is actually helping him through the powers of observation?!

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The coyote was ignoring him. The silence was oppressive, restrictive, suffocating him and pulling him underneath. But Barthélémy could not give up, now could he? No, he had to continue onward with his noble goal in mind, his justified purpose set atop the ledge by the windowsill so he could reach it later, when he had grown, was older and wiser. For now, he could do nothing but stare at it, so far away, but close enough -- close because he held it in his chest -- and far because he could reach and stretch and never touch it. It was just an idea, nothing physical, nothing real. Not as real as the fear he had felt, the sorrow, the anger, all the emotions contained in this little room. In this little place he knew was so important, but could not fathom why. But he knew. Oh, he knew what he knew. Unfortunately, the only thing he could truly know was how very little he understood, how limited his thoughts were, how restrained, how... unfortunate.



Bart watched with shadowed eyes, cocking his head to one side, then righting himself just as soon. He did not understand.



But he knew.



The coyote said something. Bart did not understand him. But he was expecting this now. The creature's foreign tongue was still that: foreign. He could not hope to communicate his desires to the coyote, and likewise, the coyote could not properly intone his own to Bart. "Tu... tu... tu...toé... toé... toé..." he said at last, pointing at the coyote each time. "Moi, moé..." he said pointing at himself. Then he frowned. "Mais tu... tu ne comprends pas..." he said sadly, ears drooping.



If only he knew.

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