Petunia’s form crumpled and skidded across the side of the hill, the force of the charm’s backlash having sent her spiralling cleanly through the air like an arrow. Her momentum finally eroded as her shoulder pushed through dirt and grass and acted as a fulcrum upon which the rest of her body rested, as her legs remained suspended for a full second before dropping to the ground with a satisfying thump.

[Image 1]

Mr. Quibble trudged over to his daughter, discarding his ruined glasses and pulling away his sleeve to create a makeshift bandage. Blood from the tears in his cheek pooled in his gums, creating a sick sputtering noise as he breathed, and it took all of his willpower to resist licking at his wounds and tearing them wider. Despite the scalding pain and blood loss, he felt grateful to get off so easy as he considered the ghastly alternative. Petunia would have swatted away his head as effortlessly as an empty can from a counter if his spear hadn’t buffered her blow, a death that would have been infinitely preferable to her life were such a thing to pass.

Petunia remained motionless, out cold from emotional shock more than any physical trauma. Despite her wild tumbles, Alvus knew there was very little risk of her having taken any major injuries, as she had spent years reinforcing her body’s flexibility and durability during her training. Alvus gingerly slid his hands under her, and hoisted her up and over himself with ease, handling her entire weight as effortlessly as one would a jacket slung over their shoulder.

[Image 2]

Poppy, on the other hand, was much, much heavier than she looked, and she looked like the reason trampolines came with weight limits. Alvus’ feet dug deep into the softened dirt trying to hoist her up, and he clenched his teeth hard, flaring the pain from his cheek around the back of his skull and down his neck. It took several false starts and more than one loud complaint about the state of his back before Alvus was able to lift her in earnest, old strength that had gone long disused bubbling up once more.

[Image 3]

Bit by bit and breath by breath, he was able to bring Poppy to chest height, although his legs screamed at the demand placed upon them, and he gave a quick half shrug to ensure Petunia didn’t slide off his shoulder on the walk back to Eggton. This was easily the most taxing thing he’d had to to do all night, moreso than his evening workout routine, attending to some very rude guests, digging a pair of holes, filling a pair of holes, and the eight-minute mile he just ran to get his face slappped halfway off.

The immense strain stretching all across Alvus’ body as he moved caused a burst of nostalgia to well up from deep within as a familiar ache of twenty-seven years past enveloped him.

[Images 4+5]

“C-come on, Al! Give it up…! You’ve… gotten… soft!”