If one had enough speed, it was possible to stay perfectly in place. Karen marched up the rattling, roaring train, watching as the grey world beyond the windows moved on inexorably. She faltered as she reached a door, and yanked it open to consider the horrid tight gangway linking traincar to traincar. Outside, hundreds of feet flew by as she hesitated, then steeled herself, ducked through, and kicked both doors open to avoid being trapped in the tiny space.

The noise drew glances from biped passengers as Karen entered the next carriage. Second or third from the back, she guessed. They all looked too similar. Bland, cream and grey with faded blue seats and narrow windows that had been closed since the last time she passed through. Not that it was any warmer, the cold winter air was just stagnant instead. Ridiculous.

Karen stalked past, repeating her lunge and kick for the gangway into the next awful metal box. Well, half metal box- this car held only a few passenger seats, a cell of a bathroom, and staff-only doors into the other half. A female biped conductor in blue uniform and a tartan neckwarmer was knelt down at a refreshment cart there, and sighed in recognition.

“Really, you again?” She stood, laying spare grain biscuits on the meagre shop-top.

“What?!” Karen bristled, “Am I not allowed to stretch my legs?”

“That’s fine- opening all the windows is not. There are other passengers.”

“Well, I just need some air. It’s too tight.” She hated the weakness in her voice, worn down like the snow on the tracks. “Can’t I go outside at the back?”

“No,” The conductor pinched her brow, “There isn’t a back- there’s no sweet little veranda. There’s an office, and there’s a door not connected to any carriage. So no. Just return to your seat- your stop’s in fifteen minutes, kid, not long to go.”

Karen’s eyes slipped over her, considering the door itself. It didn’t look locked. Jumping off a train would probably hurt, but if she timed it well, she could probably roll to absorb the impact. Then duck in a field, put her clothes away, shift, fly to Knight Stables, and eat a horse. …No, not that last part. Nor the first, her bag was still back at her seat. And she had a tracking chip somewhere in her, so the middle part of the plan wouldn’t work either.

The teenager fumed as she turned on her heel and stomped back along the clattering carriages, ignoring the irritated glances shot her way. What did they have to complain about? It was barely half nine and already her day had gone to shit. She had a court-mandated part-time job, and she’d been so dumb as to turn down Pa’s offer of a long drive there. But flying was banned too, and who would have expected the train to be even worse? In theory it was quicker and more spacious than a car. But it was also louder, more hostile, crowded with strange bipeds she was expected to tolerate. Bipeds who wouldn’t tolerate her changing her eyes or doing anything to relax.

She missed music, sitting beside her father, rolling down the windows to enjoy the flow of air, seeing the world for its true colours. Even the seat felt weird when Karen finally reached her carriage and slumped down, glad her bag and Veil were still in place. Phone, key, purse, quick checks confirmed she hadn’t lost anything, before her fingers lingered on her left thigh, feeling the puckered scar there. That didn’t make sense. She’d tried Jamie’s stupid beeping metal detector, but it turned up nothing on her left, instead seeming attracted to a nearby table or something.

More beeping resounded in her skull as the train finally approached a station, and Karen was first out the door, bag slung on her shoulders, short hair rippling in the liberating winter wind. She savoured that for a moment, before glancing at her phone, the text instructions Pa had forwarded from Mrs Knight, the stable owner. Look for a red landrover. Simple. She clambered the steps, passed off her ticket, and soon enough spied the vehicle.

“Hey-’scuse me, oh…” She hesitated. The middle aged, weather beaten form of Bethany Knight wasn’t in the driver seat. Instead, a girl- or a woman- a couple years older than her, with a strong frame, a messy bob of dark hair, and bored brown eyes considered her. “Sorry, wrong car.”

“Nah- uh, ya’re Karen, right? The horse-eater?” The driver leaned to pop open the passenger door, “Ya’re late, get in.”

“Right.” She hopped in cautiously as the engine growled, “Uh- I was expecting Mrs Knight? D’you work for her too?”

“Name’s Leah- yeah, she’s me Ma. Family business.” Her feet flattened the accelerator, and they tore out of the station parking lot quick enough that Karen was pressed back against the seat, swaying when they rounded a corner. “But, as far as ye’re concerned, I’m boss toda- WATCH IT, ASSHOLE!”

A horn blared from another car halfway across an intersection, and Leah flipped him off in turn without letting up speed for a second. Karen wound the window down an inch, making sure her seatbelt was on for if- or when- the woman decided to actually employ the brakes.

“Anyway.” Leah mused as they left the town behind, zooming along between frost coated fields, “Alright. Ma’s determined to give ya a chance, so we’ll figure out how useful ya can be. Ever had a pet? Ridden a horse? Worked before?”

“Yeah- no- yeah. Uh, we had a cat when I was little. Like five. Never ridden,” Karen scoffed slightly, “And I’ve got another part-time gig. Deliveries around my town.”

“Alright, nothing useful… how did a cat survive near ya? Or didja gobble it down too?”

“Scuse me? No, I don’t hunt stuff if I can help it- like, sure, sorry about your horse, I was… well, that was a real shit day and I was starving. Not gonna happen again.”

Leah shot a doubtful narrow gaze, “See that ya don’t.”

Soon enough, they reached the Knight’s farm, a complex of wide low buildings, paddocks and barely familiar fields. Her gaze lingered momentarily on them, as if she could spy where her meal had been so rudely interrupted, but the long grass and hedged-fences were too common to tell compared to the dark scene. She did spot Bethany Knight, the grey haired woman leading a gawky girl around on a black horse, but only got a small wave before Leah was up and out.

“Alright- move it, neither of us wants to work late.” Leah demanded, powerful arms almost dragging her into the nearest barn. Horses awaited within, the lean herbivores cramped in small stalls each, despite being larger than most griffins. Karen’s stomach turned at the animal scent, her instincts flicking over the beasts. Chestnut, sable, piebald and pale, they presented a forbidden buffet, and she swallowed, trying to reason with herself. There was no hunt here. They were penned in. Easy kills. Too easy. Her prey was beasts that ran free, that took skill to bring down.

Leah brought her back to reality by listing through the stupid names, and spelling out the rough duties involved- each day, each horse needed to be fed, watered, exercised, checked medically, often trained, cleaned up, and their equipment cleaned too. During the week, there were fewer visitors so the Knight’s could generally manage well enough, but an extra pair of hands at the weekend freed them up to help provide riding lessons, while Karen would handle the basic gruntwork.

And gruntwork it was. She was set to shovelling hay and grain into a wheelbarrow before she knew it, the grainy wooden handles digging into her palms. Then the entire heavy barrow needed hauled into the stable, and the food shovelled back out to the troughs at each pen, before she began again. Leah joined her, without much comment, easily doing two thirds of the work and Karen found herself watching with envy. Obviously her griffin form was much superior in every aspect, but the woman had an impressive physique that made the hard work seem like child’s play.

“Alright, there’s enough of the big stuff.” Leah announced, wiping her brow. “Now, ya never fed one before right?”

“Not till today,” She leaned against the wall, rubbing her hands with a grimace.

“That don’t count- here,” A bag of apples was tossed her way, and Karen fumbled with it, half diving to avoid dropping it. “Horses are skittish, so will take a while to get used to new people- especially ya, monster girl. But if we-”

The bag of apples crashed to the floor as Karen glowered at her, “Don’t call me a monster.”

Leah’s eyes widened slightly, taking an unconscious step back, “Huh- aintcha a big eagle monster? What else d’ye call that?”

“Mystic. My species is Griffin.” She snapped, “Trust me, ape-girl, you’ve not met any monsters.”

“Alright, point taken, don’t need to throw a hissy-fit.” Leah grimaced. “Anyway, for some reason, the horses might be able to guess that ya might eat them if ya have a shit day. So we’re gonna put in a bit of extra work to get ya on their good side, and avoid any injuries.”

“Injuries? They’re herbivores.”

“They weigh a ton, the kick can break bones, and they can bite if they’re grumpy. I get ye’re not scared, but be a lil cautious, stay to the side or front of ‘em, never behind, alright?”

“Makes sense. I hate having people in my blindspot too.” Karen grumbled, picking up the bag of apples, before adding, “Or on my back.”

Leah chuckled at something, then went about showing how to offer food with a flat palm to the horrid creatures’ wide teeth. Several didn’t even shy near for all her attempts, their eyes rolling and ears flat when she got close. A couple were tempted by the apple, but refused to let her touch them.

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

Then one ate from her. And wanted more apples.

“That’s Peanut.” Leah explained, running a hand through the creamy mare’s mane as it gobbled another apple. “She’s not the brightest.”

“Rude,” Karen handled a third apple, setting her other hand on the beast’s long fuzzy face, hot air huffing from its nose. “Why’s she called Peanut? Is her brain that size?”

“Nah, she loves Peanuts. Well, she loves food, and anyone who’ll give her some.” The woman left a moment, returning with a bridle, “But she’ll make a good volunteer for you to learn with, and hope the others come around in time.”

Her lectures on the equipment, manifold leather straps and awkward fastener pieces carried them to lunchtime, when she was ushered into the warm farmhouse. Mr Knight was a spindly, lamp-jawed man who gave her double portions of soup, and needled Leah fondly. Bethany joined them only briefly, the stout middle aged woman fussing about bookings and a broken fence even while she ate. Karen only half listened, savouring the heat and dynamic. It felt like how home was, before magic came along. Before she screwed it all up.

“Alright- back to it, come on.” Leah decided they were done when she was done, back into the chill air where small snowflakes were drifting down from a pale sky. Their first task was the fence, so they loaded a quadbikes trailer with some timber, wire and tools. It was loud as a jackhammer, but she found a grin on her rosy face as wind whipped her hair, and land streamed by, one arm cinched around Leah’s firm waist. Cars and trains could learn a lot from quad bikes.

The fence in question had been kicked over by some unruly riding, leaving a post hanging from barbed wire. They clipped it free, pried out the stump, then cut down the new post and sharpened its end to a stake.

“Ye’re not bad at this.” Leah noted, “Do woodwork in school?”

“Dad’s a joiner.” Karen held the post steady as the woman hefted a hammer, “My lil brother’s more into it. He can carve. Made a whole chess set and shit.”

CLUNK. CLUNK. The mallet in her hands drove the post down with solid blows, little by little. “Not going in for the family business then?”

“It’s not some historic thing, it’s his job. Ollie probably won’t either, he’s… all over the place.” A small smile tugged at her lips. It had been good to see his cheer restored. “Detective, mountaineer, news reporter, geologist, just anything.”

“Fun. What about ya?”

CLUNK.

CLUNK.

CLUNK.

“Karen?”

“Not sure.” She admitted, releasing the stump and dusting off her hands. “Used to fancy acrobatics. Gymnastics. Before all this ridiculous shit. Now… I dunno. I’d like to fly around, see more of the world. Not stables, not horses. Maybe magic, but dunno how useful sorcery is for jobs.”

“Sorcery?” Leah snorted hot steam, “Thought ya were a… griffin, not a witch?”

“I can be both.” Karen smirked, whispering Anverath under her breath. The world burned and turned immediately, showing the brilliant tealvalin glistening in the falling snowflakes, the Red Two rushing to Leah’s face, the shifting of her muscles as she levered the mallet defensively.

“Denrol. It’s fine, it’s just my eyes.”

“They’re bird eyes!” Leah stayed a few steps back, ignorant of how close that still was, “Ye can just… I thought there was a timer or something?”

“There is. I drank potion at lunch, but I can break it if I want. I’ve learned enough magic for a little shape-changing, myself.” Karen bragged, bent and delicately began to unravel barbed wires, “Most mystics are stuck to the timer though. Potion turns us human.”

“So… ya can do that whenever?”

“Yup. Basically. I’m good at turning griffin, but haven’t got the hang of turning human by myself yet.” She wound the wire around the post, bitterly wishing she’d brought gloves. “The potion’s less painful. By a lot.”

“Oh yeah?” Leah stepped in, carefully helping tie the knot and wind off the wire towards the adjoining post. “Try saying that after a horse steps on yer foot. They’re heavy beasts.”

She laughed. “Oh no, you got sore toes? As if. Once, when I was learning, I fucked up shapechanging and got turned upside down. Like… all my bones from, limbs went backwards, my ribs inverted, my head did a full one-eighty, my wings grew out of here, like, my heart was. That’s proper pai- ow.”

“Mind the barbs.” She advised as Karen sucked on her pricked finger. “Yikes. So… have ya un-done it then? Otherwise yer left and right are backwards, right?”

“I’m still right handed, everything switched, I’ve got enough skill for that,” Karen lied, blinking as she stared at the tiny red wound. Seraphina had taken care of that for her, so all her scars were on the right side, but that was awareness based, wasn’t it? “But… yeah, my left leg… became my right leg….”

“Yeah. So?” An uncertain spark of fear flitted in Leah’s eyes.

So what if she and Seraphina had both been unaware of something? What if the scar had moved, but the reason for it hadn’t? Her hand squeezed her right leg, as if hoping to feel metal and silicon beneath cloth and flesh. That was why the metal detector had found nothing on her left!

“Ah, haha, yes. I’m good.” Karen grinned, “Just… realised something. Don’t sweat it, it’s too weird to explain.”

“Think that might be a lot about ya.” Leah grumbled cautiously, before turning back to mending the barbed wire. It didn’t take long, all around, before they hopped back on the quad bike and took a riotous roaring route around and back to the barn.

The afternoon was consumed by cleaning. Belts, buckles, saddles and stirrups needed doused with different gels of pastes, then wiped or scrubbed, washed or polished. Her arms ached even before having to clamber to stack them back on high racks. And of course, the dumb horses needed cleaned too, since the herbivores were utterly incapable. Leah demonstrated with a piebald mare, foaming through the mane, brushing down its fur, untangling the tail with strong and gentle hands.

Then Karen was left in a stall with Peanut’s eager nose, while Leah moved through most of the beasts. The griffin baulked at the task, and at the hungry brute nuzzling to her.

“Shove off, I don’t have apples.” She hissed, trying to push the horse's neck around to reach the creamy mane. “Move. You want clean right?”

The animal brown eyes rolled, muzzle snorting and sniffing at her inquisitively.

“Yeah. No food, stand still.” Karen demanded, dropping her voice to avoid any ridicule from Leah, as she worked the brush, running it over the delicious creature. “That’s it. I bet you must be loving this. Useless thing like you. Must just be awesome, getting catered and cared for because you can carry some spoiled biped cubs. Get to be groomed, brushed down by cute girls with epic muscles, all gentle and perfect, making sure all the tricky feathers and fur are clean and glossy and aligned like….”

She trailed off, feeling her cheeks heat up in the chill, heart quick. Peanut nickered, and twisted to peer at her.

“Shut up, I am not jealous of you. Half-brained, bow-legged, flat-toothed, four-limbed, glass-boned, ugly, colourblind out-of-date nags,” She broke into more quiet insults, angrily brushing and neatening the mare’s fur. It was too stupid to know the difference between flattery and mockery anyway. Still the image wouldn’t leave her mind- grooming oneself was quite a labour, it would be much easier with someone’s hands available to fix everything perfectly. Like Diana did sometimes, or maybe Maddie or Leah could learn how she was meant to look.

None of the other horses were dumb enough to let her close, so she was put back to work carting hay and grain around until her arms and legs groaned in equal measure. The next time anyone accused her of being a glutton, she’d have a firm rebuttal- she was positively dieting compared to any equine.

“There you are!” Bethany found her leaning heavily on a pitchfork, half wondering how much shapeshifting could bolster her strength. “Tough work eh? Thanks for it all today, you been a good help from what Leah says.”

“Yeah?” Karen blushed, “Did I make a dent in the fine then?”

“Somewhat. A year should do it. Less if you did more days at the holidays. But, meantime, this is yours.” Bethany produced a small envelope, “Fair pay.”

Karen’s cold fingers counted thirty dollars, before offering them back, “Won’t I be done faster if you keep it all?”

“Sure, but you’re a kid, you might find other uses. If you wanna save it up and bring it back to me sometime to chip off the fine, then feel free. But you’ve got train fares and all sorts, I’m sure.” She nodded over her shoulder, “Anyway, c’mon, Leah’ll take you back to the train station, get you home for bed.”

“The train…” Karen grimaced, “Can’t I fly?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“My arms and legs are…” She wavered, “I won’t hunt any, promise.”

“Maybe another time, eh? You had a return ticket today, might as well make the most of that.”

* * * * *

“Get the window, kiddo?”

Karen leaned back, fiddling with her seatbelt as the snow danced in the headlight beams and blustered through the car.

“Karen.” Pa repeated, “Window. Neither of us wants to catch a cold.”

She scowled, and wound the glass pane up into the position, drawing her legs up against the cold. “Can I fly next time?”

“No.” His answer came too quick, too hard. The man frowned, his sigh steaming out, “Flyin’s only for near home, remember? Where people won’t panic or nothin’.”

“Mrs Knight said it was fine.” She argued, “Long as I don’t spook the horses. And it’s dark so much, noone would even spot me.”

“No. Dunno what she said, but I doubt they fancy havin’ you stalkin’ around near horses. Nor you near so much temptation. How was it, overall?”

“Exhausting. Horses are dumb. Riding’s ridiculous. The train sucks.”

He gave her a sombre glance from the corner of his eyes, “Any positives? Silver linin’?”

“I guess. Leah’s cool. Soup was nice. Got paid. And…” Karen watched him, judging the timing. When he was signalling to turn off the road, when his guard was lower. “Figured out the tracker’s in my left thigh.”

His eyes widened, fingers tightened on the wheel and clutch, foot shifted a little lower than he meant. It was as loud a confirmation as she needed, especially if his knowledge- and OARs- was out of date. “Hmm. What makes you think that?”

“Big ass scar hurts sometimes. I was doing a lot. Makes sense.” Karen smirked at his glance, “See, no blood, I didn’t try surgery. Almost like you could have told me all along!”

“Hmm. Or you’re not sure.” Pa considered, “Leave it alone, eh? Doesn’t matter unless anythin’ goes real badly. Any plans for tomorrow?”

“Just crash. Fail at shapechanging. Fly. Deliver… oh shit, I’m working two days in a row. How do you do this!?”

He gave a short quick laugh. “Heh. Not quite sure on that front. Part of growin’ up.”