Deirdre of the Sorrows
an excerpt

“Why are you so afraid of flying?” Bane asked as I squeezed the life out of his hand that evening. Maybe it was because I was still a little woozy from blood loss, but my fear seemed more abstract this time. I’m not saying that I wasn’t still scared, because I was. It was just a less focused sort of fear, like when I used to be afraid of the dark.

“We could crash,” I replied, concentrating on breathing evenly through my nose.

Bane snorted. “You’re way more likely to crash in a car than in a plane,” he scoffed. Then he caught himself and flicked a glance at my face. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“S’okay,” I mumbled.

He played with my fingers. “That’s not a good reason, though. Give me another.”

It was difficult to think and concentrate on breathing at the same time. “There could be a serial killer on here, and if he started shooting people, we’d have no place to go.”

Again, he snorted. Really, it was so lovely to have my fears such mocked. “That only happens on TV.”

“There could be something on board.” Okay, so now I was grasping at straws.

“Like what?”

I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Badgers.”

Bane laughed outright at this, and I pursed my lips sheepishly. “Badgers on a plane,” he intoned in a mock horrified whisper. “AAH! BADGERS ON A PLANE!” Both I and the elderly woman from across the aisle glared at him for shouting.

“You’re obnoxious,” I told him sternly.