Aslan pocketed his one glove, for he knew it would be even more improper to wear only one. In his haste, he had ended up abandoning its twin in the pew somewhere. St. Hilda’s Catholic Church could keep it for the small, divine price of letting him jump out of the pot and into the fire.

He lifted his bare hands to his face again. Was it on his hands? He could still smell him everywhere. Ugh, it smelled amazing. Maybe it was poppies or something; after all, he felt weirdly elated by it.

The smile dropped as soon as their door was in view, and Aslan unlocked the door without a sound. Hopefully, Nisa was still asleep …