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We take a breath in unison and begin the thumb war chant. It’s immediately clear that where she comes from, they sing it just a little differently.

My countdown is cut short within the first line of her version, and in her excitement, she makes it into the second verse before she realizes something’s amiss.

“I summon thee, thou crusty fool,

To face me in this cruel thumb duel?—

Winnow’s brows pinch just before I erupt with laughter.

“What?”

I try my hardest to stifle my laughter, waving her concern away. “Nothing… Nothing at all. Please, go on.”

Her brow pinches further, but she hesitantly continues wearing a smirk, gripping my hand hard with determination as our thumbs dance.

“…By daemon law and fiendish rite,

We’ll thumb-fight ‘til the end of night…”

More of my laughter erupts until I’m wheezing. My thumb is slack as she narrows her eyes at me, a reluctant grin on her lips.

“You better tell me what’s so funny, naughty boy.”

Naughty boy.

In any other context, those words would make my cock rock solid, but at the moment I’m too overcome with laughter. Shaking my head, tears stream down my cheeks, my voice quiet and higher-pitched than I’ve ever heard it in my suffocating hysteria; my words are barely audible. Trigger’s tail wags as he gives a bark of concern. He’s never seen me like this before.

“Nothing… Please… Continue.”

Winnow’s giggling joins mine as she straightens, and I’m not entirely sure if she’s joking or not. “Is my song really that different?”

I wheeze-nod.“Just a little.”

Winnow manages to half laugh, half sing the rest of her song, as though just now realizing how ridiculous it is.

“No shields, no spells, no whining, please?—

Just thumbs that snap like brittle knees.

The loser signs in blood and snot,

A daemon contract, fine print: rot…”

Her laughter—a wheezing silence—is nearly as hysterical as mine as I keel over in front of her, hand slipping free. I can barely manage to get the words out.“Is… that…all?”

Her laughter intensifies, and she shakes her head, as hysteria spills a watery path down her cheeks.

“No.”

My laughter renews, and I swear to fuck, if I don’t stop laughing, I’m going to pass out. I can’t speak, so I gesture for her to continue from where I’m curled into a hysterical ball in front of her. Trigger gives another bark as he comes over to the bed, pushing his wet snout into the back of my neck, snuffling to make sure I’m ok.

Bowled over with laughter, Winnow reaches across me to stroke his head to calm him from where his head is perched on the bed.

It takes Winnow a few moments of starting and stopping before she can force out another couple of verses as she takes my hand once more to prepare herself.

“So brace… thy grip, you wart-faced mule…

And… die with honor …”