gold and feathery? Long and sleek?â He paused, glanced sidelong at Quicksilver. âMaybe with white feathers in my tail?â
At his words, Quicksilver imagined such a bird. She imagined Foxâs lanky dog body transforming into a smaller, feathered creature, soaring through the rafters overhead. . . .
âWhat in the name of the stars?â Sly Boots sat up, fully awake.
Quicksilver blinked. A bizarre creature half hopped, half flew across the dining room tablesâgold feathered and gold furred. It had a wing on one side, and two pawed legs on the other. When it opened its mouth, its tiny beak was crammed full of canine fangs. It tried to fly and crashed into the breakfasting familyâs plate of hot rolls.
A hand grabbed Quicksilverâs shoulder.
âThink of Fox,â Anastazia instructed. âThink of him as you know himâa dog, and a dog alone.â
An image of Fox flashed into Quicksilverâs flustered mind. Something tugged on her heart, yanking her toward Fox, and she gasped. She needed to be near him, more than she had ever needed anything in her life. She ran to him, her pack swinging from her shoulders. With a flash of golden light, the bird-dog thing clambering across the tables became fully a dog, and slid right into the feet of the witch with the green bird on his shoulder.
Fox raised his head, woozy, and barked. Quicksilver fell to her knees beside him and scooped him into her arms.
Sly Boots hurried over. âAre you all right? What happened?â
Quicksilver did not know how to answer him. She felt as if she had stepped into an outlandish dream. All she knew was that she had needed to be near Fox, and now she was, and whatever had happened didnât matter much in the face of that. She buried her face between his ears and was relieved to discover that he still smelled of dog.
âOur apologies,â Anastazia muttered to the witch with the green bird, not quite looking at him. âShe just got her monster. A bit rough around the edges.â
The witch man grimaced, avoiding Anastaziaâs gaze just as determinedly as she was avoiding his. âNot to worry. First few days are always tricky.â Then he turned away, the air around him vibrating with animosity.
The witchâs monster, in a soft thrum of emerald light, circled around Foxâs head, squawking angrily, before popping back to the witchâs shoulder with a second puff of light.
âDo it again, do it again!â shrieked the two children a few tables over.
âSo sorry to burst into your morning like this,â Anastazia called to the entire establishment.
The woman in the purple braids grinned. âIâve seen much worse. Why, this one time, this witch from Belrike came in with her son, andââ
âWhat a wonderful story,â said Anastazia, ushering Quicksilver and Sly Boots out of the inn and onto the street. Fox hopped along beside them, shaking out his paws. Quicksilver slammed her eyes shut as they stepped outside, but dared to open them again after a couple of moments, and found that the brightness of this long-ago world was no longer painful.
âOf all the careless, reckless things to do,â Anastazia spat. âWhat were you thinking?â
Quicksilver frowned. âWhat do you mean, what was I thinking? Fox was the one whoââ
âFox canât do anything on his own. Without you directing him, heâs simply raw magic. Shapeless and stupid.â
âExcuse me,â Fox interrupted, coughing out a tiny yellow feather, âbut I am certainly not ââ
âStupid, yes. You looked ridiculous, flapping about like some newborn half-thing.â
âBut Fox was the one who started talking about being a bird,â Quicksilver cried. âHe told me to imagine it, and I did, and then I donât know what happened, but all I did was think, I promise!â
â All you did?â Sighing, Anastazia looked
Roland Green, John F. Carr