James, for a moment, though he could be prepared for anything. Compared to the others, he'd begun to take pride in the fact that he was particularly unruffled by all of the new and different occurrences, but seeing a tent walk over on chicken legs was not what he expected to see with his own two eyes. This was very unfamiliar magic.
Frozen, he stared as it sat down, as the others crawled in, as they talked behind the curtain and seemed relatively fine.
But he couldn't seem to move. He finally tore his gaze away from the tent and looked down at his feet, frowning. Why was he freezing up? He wanted to be brave. Brave like his papa.
He forced himself to take a stiff step forward, using the movement as momentum to take another, and another. He made it to the front of the tent and peeked in, trying very hard to keep his face from revealing how startled he actually was.
"I don't think it's a good idea to sit in it," he said. "We don't know whose it is. Or who else has sat in it."
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