It wasn’t yet midnight (night nine by local timekeeping)

  by the time Fee and I finished reigniting all the rest of Kiri’s old

  powers. The sense of speed and power that filled me as it built up was a

  tingling in every fiber of my being, and for a while I didn’t think I’d

  be able to sleep after it was done.

  Fortunately, practicing some of the individual techniques

  I’d learned from Kosal that afternoon helped me to settle down and nod

  off. So I felt I’d gotten most of a good night’s rest by the time Ever

  knocked on my door and called my name to wake me, maybe an hour after

  sunrise at day one-thirty.

  Stretching my back and shoulders caused the bed to creak

  alarmingly, so I rounded them again and rolled carefully out of the bed.

  I then opened the door with the most gentle of fingertips on the

  handle.

  “G’morning.”

  “Ready to get going, Anne?” She looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. More or less literally.

  “Mostly. I wondered. The spa was very nice, but is there a faster way to get a wash-up? I’m getting a bit itchy.”

  She smiled awkwardly at me, and moved to enter my room. “I can help with that.”

  I stepped back to let her in and she closed the door behind herself.

  “Just hold still for a moment,” she said, and began a

  casting that caused Nuum to light up red and gold. The flickering glow

  spread to Ever’s hands and then to me, rippling gently over my fur like a

  wave of wind through a wheat field. I shivered involuntarily at the

  ticklish feeling, but it was past before I could react more than that,

  leaving me feeling…well-groomed? Not washed exactly but itch-free and

  mildly refreshed.

  I shook myself reflexively and sighed. “Thanks! That’s

  much better.” Then gave her a sly, sideways look. “Is that one of the

  tricks you didn’t used to volunteer?”

  She ducked her head, slightly. “No, I use it on everybody

  when they ask, it’s just not exactly politic to offer that one. Seems a

  bit like telling somebody they stink.”

  I laughed easily at that. “Good point. Breakfast?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I’ll meet you down there in a minute. I want to change clothes now I’m un-stinkified.”

  She nodded and headed out.

  I met them in the dining room a few minutes later, in a

  nice green tunic and lighter brown pants, having successfully navigated

  the weird fastenings all by myself this time.

  The morning waitress brought out a big plate of eggs and

  bacon for me almost immediately, along with another cup of coffee. I

  gave her a big appreciative smile and thanks, snuggling my hands around

  the hot mug right away. She smiled back with a tiny curtsey and moved

  off.

  Everyone was

  pretty quiet as we scarfed down our breakfasts, not even commenting when

  I got a touch over-enthusiastic cutting through a piece of bacon with

  the side of my fork and bent the fork sideways. I growled a little under

  my breath and did the best I could to bend it back into shape, but it

  ended up with a kink in the middle of the handle. Oops. Lots of adapting

  to do.

  Once we were sated, Ever took the room keys back to the

  older fellow behind the bar and settled up our tab while the rest of us

  wandered outside to stretch and appreciate the crisp morning air, and

  the sun just climbing above the rooftops. I reached up toward the sky as

  high as I could, appreciating the lack of anything in the way. I’d

  never felt so nervous to be inside a building before, fearing I might

  bang against a door frame and knock a hole in the wall, or something.

  As soon as I saw Ever heading out to join us, I turned to Fiddle. “Ready for your piggy-back ride, man?”

  “You’re really doing that?” La’a asked, disbelieving.

  “Of course! A deal’s a deal.” I said.

  Fiddle smiled diffidently as I crouched and bent down, patting my shoulder for him to climb on. “Come on. Just swing a leg up.”

  He climbed onto my shoulder, taking my hand for balance,

  and I helped him swing the other leg around the other side of my neck.

  As he settled in, I brushed the long ends of my mane out of the way so

  it wouldn’t get pinched.

  “All right, you comfy? Feel free to grab some hair if you’re feeling wobbly. Just make it a big hank, not a few threads, okay?”

  “Um. Yeah, I’m good,” he said, sounding far more uncertain

  than he had last night when suggesting this repayment. That might have

  been partly from the half-dozen early-rising townsfolk watching us as

  they passed. They all looked somewhere between confused and a bit

  shocked. I smiled at them and barely kept myself back from waving

  awkwardly. I didn’t know what that might mean around here, after all.

  “I really can’t talk you out of doing that?” Ever asked as she arrived.

  I just grinned at her. “Come on, time’s a wastin’!” and

  headed down the street, perforce followed by the cat and lizard, as well

  as a few more puzzled stares.

  The biggest reaction was from the wolf guards manning the

  gates as we left town. Both looked utterly scandalized when they caught

  sight of us, one so thrown that he fumbled and nearly dropped his

  pole-arm. The attention must have been starting to get to me, because I

  realized a bit late that the smile I gave the two of them in response

  was rather more predatory than just friendly. I was tipped off to this

  by the way they both shrank back and bowed their heads like they’d just

  been threatened.

  I toned it down, and nodded to them a bit, hoping to

  soften the insult, if that’s what it was. But then we were on the road

  outside town, with the sun behind us and a mix of woods and farmland

  stretching ahead, and I put them out of my mind and stretched my legs a

  bit.

  Of course, La’a and Ever didn’t have as much leg to stretch as I did, so I found myself constantly waiting for them to catch up.

  “We’re out of sight of the gates, you can let me down now,” Fiddle said as I stood looking back once again.

  “I could. Or—” I drew the vowel out as our companions

  caught up. I crouched slightly, holding my arms out to them. “I could

  extend the service and we can make better time. I’ve got an arm each

  still.”

  La’a grinned wide and hopped up to settle her butt in the

  crook of my elbow, shifting about until her spines laid alongside my arm

  instead of pressing into it.

  Ever just stood there looking horrified.

  “Come on,” I coaxed her. “It’s no trouble. You won’t weigh me down any.”

  “No, this is just too much. I can’t have it,” she protested again, stepping back.

  “Aww, come on, Ever. I want to . See what I can

  really do. I don’t think you’re going to be able to keep up. You

  wouldn’t want to hold me back, would you?” I gave her a hopeful look.

  “Come on, cat, live a little!” La’a put in, her tail thrashing against my side.

  Ever sighed and sidled toward me, holding still while I

  scooped her into my other arm. She sat very stiffly, seemingly trying to

  touch me as little as she could manage while sitting on me.

  “Everybody set?” I asked, receiving three affirmations of varying enthusiasm. “Off we go!”

  And I accelerated.

  #

  Back when I was human—even when I was young—I had a poor

  relationship with exercise. Sweating too much gave me an itchy rash, and

  mild asthma meant that I had trouble breathing if I over-exerted myself

  even a bit. I’d never really experienced the joy of movement other

  people talk about for more than a moment here and there. And those

  moments tended to be ones where I wasn’t doing the moving myself: a roller-coaster, a swing-set, spinning crazy fast on a bar-stool.

  But this, this was different. This body didn’t really

  sweat, had no ceiling on its ability to breathe. My legs swung into an

  easy rhythm as I gathered speed, and my mouth fell open in a happy pant,

  not striving for breath, but taking in the air and every scent it

  carried joyously and without pain.

  My top speed was a bit limited by the necessity of keeping

  my arms still, and my effort to keep my upper body’s motion steady and

  even, to provide the best ride I could for my passengers. But I was

  still amazed at how fast the landscape rushed by, and how—not effortless

  but— it felt. My muscles warmed up in the morning sun and the

  motions became smooth and comfortable. My breath synced up with the

  steady tread of my feet and the wind of my passage ruffled my fur.

  I wouldn’t call it heaven, but it was a long way from hell.

  A few minutes into my run, as the cultivated fields to

  either side were becoming more rare, and the woods growing deeper and

  more frequent, the stream that had wandered along to our right suddenly

  swung south and crossed the road, flowing noisily under an arched wooden

  bridge.

  It wasn’t a rickety bridge, exactly. But it wasn’t huge

  either. The planks that made up its decking and handrails weren’t

  particularly thick, something like a two-by-four. And I knew,

  intellectually, that I wasn’t heavy. Surely this bridge

  carried the local equivalent of horses and carts back and forth on the

  regular, and I doubted that I came close to the mass of a horse, even

  with three passengers. But still. It made me a little nervous.

  I didn’t want to stop, I was having a good time, and the

  bridge was close enough when I saw it that stopping would’ve had to be

  pretty sharp too. So instead, I accelerated some more. Three longer,

  faster strides and then I leapt as hard as I could.

  Fiddle guessed my intentions in time, and grabbed two handfuls of my hair to hang on, but I took La’a and Ever by surprise.

  They both screamed as we left the ground. The drake in my

  left arm raised her hands into the air, shrieking like a kid on her

  first coaster, but the cat on my right screamed like she was about to

  die, and went from awkward stiffness to clutching me with both hands.

  Well, she was mostly clutching Fiddle, one arm around my shoulder, the

  other clenched on his thigh, right next to my throat.

  We cleared the bridge, which was maybe thirty feet long,

  and passed over a good bit of the road beyond it, maybe the same

  distance again. It was only when we were closing in on the ground again

  that I realized the landing might actually be tricky, what with having

  no hands free to balance myself.

  Of course it was far too late at that point. I braced my

  knees for impact and started praying silently, and my feet slammed down

  on the packed earth, ONE, TWO, and kept running, taking up all the extra

  momentum and gradually slowing us back down to a reasonable pace. My

  ankles didn’t wobble or buckle. My knees didn’t hurt. I was

  laughing like a maniac right along with the crazy dragon-girl and

  didn’t even mind when Ever let go of Fiddle’s leg long enough to smack

  me on the forehead.

  “What the fuck was that?!” she yelled.

  I felt Fiddle shift a bit, giving up the hair hold to wrap

  his arms around my neck and lay his head on the top of my head. He

  wasn’t laughing loudly, but I could feel his abdomen bouncing against

  the back of my neck. “I’m pretty sure they call that jumping, Ev.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  She at him. A full, deep in the chest, there’s-about-to-be-fur-flying cat growl.

  I widened my eyes at the noise, and rolled them way over to fix on her face.

  The growl softened and died, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  And then her body sagged, letting go of all the tension,

  and she laid her head down against my shoulder. “Ha. I guess so. Please

  don’t do that again without warning,” she muttered.

  La’a cackled. “Oh , do that again!”

  “Yeah, sorry.” I focused on Ever. “You okay?”

  “Maybe,” she answered, her voice very small. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” I murmured, “You can lean on me.”

  Her breath blew out in a sigh, and she closed her eyes again, relaxing into my hold.

  I turned my eyes back to the road ahead, and my focus back

  to keeping the pace nice and smooth. Fiddle let his arms hang down,

  bumping occasionally against the side of my head, his snout draped

  comfortably above mine, barely visible when I looked up.

  After a few minutes I felt a rumbling against my side that I slowly realized was Ever purring. My mouth stretched out in a grin.

  The miles melted away under us, and I savored the warmth

  of my companions draped over my head and shoulders. Their closeness, the

  ’human’ contact, started to unknot something in my chest that had been

  clenched tight since I woke up in this body.

  #

  The forested foothills gave way to plains over the

  morning, the sky widening out above us till it stretched from horizon to

  horizon, only interrupted by scattered lines of clouds.

  I had fallen into a sort of comfortable thoughtlessness as

  my feet ate the miles from under us, and several hours had passed, the

  sun rising toward its zenith. But I was brought back to the present by a

  a sudden whisper from Fiddle.

  “Slow down, I sense something ahead.”

  I startled, but managed not to fumble anybody as I dropped my speed from a slow run to a quick walk.

  “What is it?” Ever asked.

  His response was thick with jargon, and all I was sure of

  was a monster of some sort nearby, but neither of them seemed at all

  concerned.

  “You should probably let us down now, Anne,” Ever said,

  and I might have been imagining it, but she sounded a tiny bit

  reluctant.

  I came to a stop and knelt to let La’a and Ever find their

  feet, then offered Fiddle a hand, and my knee as a step. All four of us

  took a moment to stand and stretch, and I cracked my neck in a couple

  different directions. The squirrel guy wasn’t a great burden, but

  holding my head still to keep him balanced had been a bit taxing.

  While I shook out my arms and neck, the other three

  consulted in low tones, and were all wearing irritated or thoughtful

  expressions by the time I stepped close again.

  “So?” I asked quietly, “What’s the situation?”

  “It’s just one creature,” Fiddle explained. “ A grass cat, very recently infested.”

  “It’s no problem at all to take down,” La’a put in, sounding irritated.

  Ever didn’t respond for a moment, her expression troubled, and her eyes sliding away from me and back in uncomfortable cycles.

  “But—?” I drew out, watching Ever.

  She sighed. “Nothing, never mind.”

  “It doesn’t seem like nothing. I’d really like to understand.”

  She met my gaze and pressed her lips together.

  “It might be possible to save it, but we’d need your help,” Fiddle burst out, as the cat continued to hesitate.

  “ it?”

  “Maybe,” Ever hesitated. “If it could be immobilized for a

  few minutes, maybe a quarter of an hour, I could perform a ritual on it

  to purge the small amount of radiance it’s collected and protect it

  from reinfection for a while. But I know you’re not comfortable with—”

  “Hang on. This is different from killing things. It sounds

  like you need me to hold down a big kitty cat while you give it

  medicine.”

  “Uh—not exactly, but pretty close.”

  “I can do that! I’ve had cats my whole life, and I’m

  pretty good at wrangling them when I need to, if I do say so myself.

  Let’s give it a try.”

  Ever brightened slightly. “If you’re sure. I do prefer to purge when possible.”

  I gave her a grin.

  #

  Fiddle surrounded us with some sort of stealth bubble and

  we all crept closer to the critter he’d sensed. Then once we were almost

  within sight of it he applied a more optimal mental invisibility effect

  to just me and I headed for the sunning ’grass-cat’ on my own. Once I

  managed to get it under control, the rest of them would move in to help

  with the ritual.

  If I’d been moving up on one of my kitties at home, I

  would have gone the nonchalant route, acting as though I were just

  casually walking past them to another room till I was within striking

  distance. But this was a different sort of beast. Pure sneakiness was

  called for, and Kiri was well equipped for that. I asked Fee to help me

  focus on the powers that improved my movement and should help me glide

  up to just a few feet away before the cat had a chance to notice me.

  The swish of my bare feet through the tall grass faded to a

  vague breeze, and my breathing quieted to nothing as I came into sight

  of my target. The predator was stretched out on a low rock, staring out

  into the sea of waving grasses. I saw its warmth compared to the

  surroundings before I could make it out with normal vision. It had an

  Earth big cat’s build; long, relatively narrow body, thick limbs with

  huge paws, and a large head dominated by a heavy muzzle. Once I got a

  little closer I could see its yellow-gold coat with paler stomach and

  chest. Whatever they might be calling the species around here, this

  looked like a damn lioness to me. She was certainly no house cat, and

  for a moment I started to regret my easy offer of assistance.

  But no, I could do this. I was plenty bigger than kitty

  over here, and much much stronger. My previous skills should translate

  just fine.

  I took a long, slow breath, started to let it out, and pounced, fast and smooth, grabbing for the cat’s shoulders and head.

  Her immediate yowl was low and, nearly enough

  to surprise me into losing my grip, but I fought the reflex and focused

  on wrapping my arms around her front half, and flipping her around to

  keep her back legs pointed away from me. One hand clamped around the

  powerful muzzle, holding her jaw closed, and the other wrestled with her

  forelegs while she thrashed; head, spine and shoulders writhing to get away like a

  startled snake. I got my other hand around one wrist and

  then the other, just above the dew-claws, clamping my fingers tight

  against her jerky withdrawal attempts.

  “Nah, nah, kitty. You’re gonna be okay,” I murmured out of

  habit while I plopped onto the ground and heaved the cat partway into

  my lap, the better to keep her still. She let out a jungle-worthy roar

  in response, only a little muffled by her closed mouth, and swung her

  face up almost hard enough to clip the side of my head. I tempered my

  resistance to the movement so as not to hurt her, letting the animal do

  the pushing, and making myself the fixed object she pushed against.

  I swung one leg over her hips to reduce the hind end

  thrashing, and laid my elbow behind her shoulder to help hold the

  forelegs in place, along with my grip on her front paws. This left me

  kinda spooning the cat, but her thrashings were more and more contained.

  “Okay, come on. I’ve got her,” I called over my shoulder, only mildly contradicted by another howling lurch.

  The three companions raced up to us, Fiddle and La’a holding back some while Ever came to kneel just opposite me.

  “Nice job, Anne,” Fiddle said.

  “I’m impressed,” the drake added. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “All right,” Ever took over. “Now I need you to keep it as

  still as possible while I touch it in a few different places. I’ll be

  starting near the head and working my way down.”

  “Okay, we should be good,” I told her, grinning as I

  rubbed the lioness’s nose with one finger, ”You’re gonna be okay

  mama, just you wait and see,” I soothed. The cat didn’t believe me, but

  the statement helped me focus. The most important thing was keeping my

  hold the right combination of firm and gentle so she couldn’t hurt

  herself with her struggles, and wouldn’t be able to hurt Ever or me.

  The ritual wasn’t a lot to look at, just Ever running her

  hands slowly over the animal, from the face down to the tail, speaking

  softly, while her fairy hovered between them, bobbing and weaving in

  little circles like they all had when collecting stuff after our fight

  with the wasps. It only took her about five minutes to finish, and then

  they all backed well away while I untangled myself from our patient.

  Once I was back on my feet and holding her just by the

  muzzle and forelegs again, while she tucked the rest of her body as

  close under her as possible, I checked around us, pointed her face in a

  safe direction, and opened both hands while stepping back, and the cat

  burst away into the grass, apparently none the worse for wear.

  I laughed from the bottom of my stomach watching her race

  off, and raised one hand in a wave. “Have fun storming the castle,

  kitty.”

  “Good job, Anne,” Ever said as we wandered back toward the road.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why by all that’s shadowed were you so fine with that

  when killing bugs tied you in a knot?” La’a grumped. “This was way more

  dangerous, you know!”

  I looked down at the top of her head for a moment.

  “I really don’t think it was. When we fought the bugs I

  didn’t have all these defenses in place, or else I wouldn’t have hurt

  myself so bad on that stinger. I suppose if I’d been sloppy here the

  lioness could’ve hurt me some, but likely still not as badly.” I

  considered for a moment before continuing. “But being in danger or not

  wasn’t the important thing for me. It’s between hurting and helping. We

  helped the cat. I’m all for that, even if I have to go out of my way a

  bit.”

  La’a’s shoulders hunched up. “I don’t get you,” she grumbled.

  “That’s okay,” I said, “You don’t have to. But maybe some day you will.”

  We arrived back at the road and I turned toward Fiddle and

  Ever, about to offer to pick everybody up again, but Ever held up a

  hand, apparently guessing my intentions.

  “Why don’t we all walk under our own power for a while,”

  she said. “I don’t actually want us to get to the next city till

  tomorrow.”

  “Oh?”

  “We have some important things to discuss, and I’d rather do it where we can be sure of not being overheard.”

  “Ah? So we can talk while we walk?”

  Ever shook her head. “I’d rather wait till we camp for the night.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged. My stomach suddenly let out one of its enormous, wild-beast growls.

  “Hmm. Although I suppose lunch is in order,” she added.

  “I could go for some more of those fish sandwiches, Fiddle,” I said.

  “I guess I can manage that. And maybe we could have that other talk in daylight?” He gave Ever a questioning look.

  She met his eyes and several clearly meaningful

  expressions passed between them, leaving me utterly in the dark. Fiddle

  seemed to win the point though.

  “Fine, I guess we can have that out too, after we eat.”

  “Hooray, food and secrets!” I cracked.

  “And speaking of secrets,” Fiddle suddenly rounded on me. “You still haven’t told us what color Fee is!”

  “Oh, yeah, I kinda forgot I hadn’t.” I smiled at him.

  “I didn’t.”

  I snickered at the affronted look on his face.

  #

  And that’s how I found myself at the side of the road,

  huddled under a blanket with three other people, trying to make an area

  dark enough to show off Fee’s native color.

  It was quite close quarters, and I could feel everyone’s

  breath quickly warming the small space. I called Fee out and asked her

  to light up as much as she could, and held out the piece of white stone

  I’d grabbed from the side of the road for the purpose.

  “So look closely,” I told them, holding the stone right

  under the floating fairy. “There’s the orange from Kiri’s leftovers, and

  the bugs, but do you see what else her light is doing?”

  They all peered at the stone for a long moment, and I

  watched them for any reaction. It was a subtle thing, and it seemed to

  be a concept they weren’t familiar with either, which surprised me. The

  faint not-quite-purple glow around the edge of the stone was definitely

  visible though, when you knew to look for it. I grinned, deliberately

  baring my teeth as far as I could, as an extra hint.

  “Just fuckin’ tell us,” La’a burst out, frowning at me, and then squinting as she saw my teeth. “Wha—?”

  Fiddle and Ever followed her eyes to my face, also looking boggled at the effect.

  I could see it in their own teeth, and the whites of their

  eyes—what little there was—as well. That purpleish-white a little

  reminiscent of lightning.

  “It’s mainly visible on very pale surfaces, because you can’t normally see it,” I started to explain.

  “A color you can’t see?” Fiddle asked.

  “Well, can see it. Now. There’s an orange vision

  power that expands your sight into the infrared and ultraviolet. I took

  it as soon as Fee could show me how.”

  “” Ever repeated the English words, so obviously foreign on her tongue. “What are these things?”

  “Uh… You know the colors of light make up a spectrum, obviously. Do you understand how?”

  They gave me more blank stares, their teeth all weirdly bluish-purple.

  “Oof." Where to start? "So light travels from one place to another in waves.

  Like waves on the ocean, but much much smaller and faster. And the

  length of those waves, how long it takes them to go from crest to trough

  to crest again, is what determines their color.” I made a little wave

  motion with my free hand. “Red is the longest visible wavelength, and

  violet is the shortest. But it’s possible for light to have wavelengths

  longer or shorter than that. Longer than red—slower that is—is the color

  that hot things give off. And shorter than violet, well, that’s -violet,”

  I carefully used the local word for the color, with the English prefix,

  since there didn’t seem to be a local equivalent. “And that’s Fee’s

  color. It can’t be seen with a normal naked eye, but when it bounces off

  surfaces, especially very bright ones, like this rock, or our teeth,

  the light gets slowed down just a touch, and becomes partly visible.

  That’s why it seems to illuminate certain things without an obvious

  source.”

  The little space under the blanket grew quiet after my rambling explanation trailed off.

  “I need to breathe.”

  Fiddle’s announcement broke the silence, and he tossed the

  blanket away, stepping back from our huddle. The rest of us followed

  his lead, popping back out into the sunny day, and Ever started folding

  up the blanket to put it away.

  La’a glowered at me while Fiddle paced. “You’re telling us your fairy has a color that doesn’t exist.”

  “No, it exists,” I corrected. “Plenty of real things can’t

  be seen. You do magic, I’m sure you can think of way more examples of

  that than I can.”

  She huffed at me. “Light to be seen! It doesn’t make sense.”

  I just shrugged at her. “Not sure what I can tell you, hon. It is what it is.”

  Fiddle paced back and stopped, staring up at me with manic eyes.

  “You don’t understand what you’ve just told us, Anne. This is incredible. You’ve explained the unlit! Like it was nothing.”

  “Oh,” I squatted down to let him rest his neck. “So you

  knew about the fairies that don’t show a color, but didn’t have an

  explanation for them? I’m surprised.”

  “We sort’ve do,” Ever said, looking thoughtful. “We’ve

  always known that a few fairies are born defective, giving off no light,

  but sometimes warmth instead. We use the warm ones for heat in cold

  climates, or to make enchanted cooking utensils and such. But the unlit

  never with anyone.”

  “Until now, apparently.” Fiddle stared at me like I was a

  puzzle to be solved. “But what’s her area then? And what do the warm

  fairies affect?”

  “I’ve got no idea about the infrared ones,” I admitted. “But Fee’s specialty seems to be time.”