The sky above was azure, a gorgeous deep blue broken by scattered clouds, like so many sheep ignorant of her presence. Karen leapt. And stumbled, wingless and two-legged.
Her father, big and broad with the folder of documents in one maimed hand and the flask of Veil in his other, smiled unsurprised behind his moustache, “Good to be outside, kiddo?”
“So much,” She feigned stretching, swung her arms and twirled around, shooting a glance across the industrial car-park in case any witnessed her giddiness. “I’ve not seen a window in days, it sucked!”
“Maybe for the best. Did quite the number to your bedroom.”
“That’s a cheap shot.” Karen stopped short as his big burgundy Vauxhall came into view. “It’s too small.”
“Apparently. Can either shift Ollie, or use the garage?” He considered, clicking the keys to unlock it.
“Not that. The car. It’s too small.” She bit her lip and took a step back. It was like a cage, iron and steel and painful glass, too hot, close, small and-
His arms wrapped around her, voice low, “You’re not a griffin. ‘Member? Your head’s here, an’ you’re this big.”
She stood on tiptoes, headbutted his chin fondly, “But what if I change? I’d break a wing or cause a crash or-”
“Chill, kiddo. Solutions, not problems.” He set the cold flask in her hands, “First issue- form. What did Doctor Morris say?”
“Ten doses. Each is a lidful. Each lasts an hour,” She repeated, the boring memory fresh. “We buy more from Ms Kingsley.”
“Correct, it’s five past five so drink and we’ll have it every hour.”
Karen grimaced but unscrewed the flask obediently to take a sip. Even that was horrid, a foul slime that ran too slowly, and sent shivering goosebumps through her fingers as she closed the lid.
“Second issue- space,” Pa stood back from the car, he had folded two of the back seats to merge with the boot, and slid the passenger seat back. “Reckon that’s better?”
“A bit.” Karen blushed. He found solutions so easily. She looked dumb. Weak. She gritted her teeth and forced herself into the car, winding down the windows, “Thanks Pa.”
“No leapin’ out the windows, kiddo. And buckle in before the freeway, deal?” He settled in the front, and the familiar rattling hum of the engine kicked into life.
“Fiiiine, I’ll resist.” Karen sat back and closed her eyes, trying to pretend she wasn’t in a much smaller metal box. The wind helped with that, tousling her hair as they wound away from the industrial buildings OAR had settled into, but as their speed increased it quickly grew over loud.
When they hit the freeway and it became a roar, she conceded, closed the windows and grudgingly pulled her seatbelt on. It wasn’t as bad as the collar, but she fidgeted and scratched until Pa set an old Iron Doves CD on and familiar music filled the car. Karen breathed and sang along quietly- without talons, wings or freckles it felt like any other roadtrip. She was going home.
* * * * *
The sky above was amber, bloody red and majestic purple, divided by strands of golden cloud. Karen stretched at the gas station and butted the fuel cap closed as her Pa returned from paying.
“How you holdin’ up? Hungry?” He nodded towards the building across the asphalt lot, a big steak house build like a log cabin.
“A bit,” Karen lied, “Grateful for the break. You?”
“I could eat. Grab a table and I’ll park.”
She needed no more encouragement to escape the metal box, and found her way inside the much larger wooden one. It was pleasant, rustic and warm in colour, with big windows and only seven bipeds moving around, and best of all heavy with the scent of sizzling prey. An over chatty waitress named Gina intercepted her, but let her sit by the door, perching to slip her sandals off.
“Good seat,” Pa noted as he slid in, and took the other bench, glancing over the menu, “How you feelin’? No huntin’ ranches on the way home.”
“That’s not funny,” Karen protested through a small smile, “Stupid griffin instincts don’t really gauge hunger. I’ll just match you?”
“Of course.” He gave another look over the menu, “’Memberin’ Veil?”
“It’s seven twenty Pa, yeah, I drank before we got gas.”
“I suppose you are somethin’ of a connoisseur.” Pa rubbed his moustache, “Worst of the three?”
“Ah… yeah. Worst taste for sure, maybe a little less painful? I can’t believe Mystics drank this stuff for years...” She hesitated, “Three? They told you then. About… are you mad?”
He frowned, then stood, and walked up to the bar to order. When he came back, he gave a small nod.
“I get you wantin’ to fly. No surprise there, when you were tiny you begged me to throw you high as I could. Took out the ceilin’ fan once.” He closed his eyes, “But the bit that gnaws at me is goin’ behind our backs. How you do things matters just as much as what you do.”
Karen shifted, folding her legs onto the bench, “We’d just got that letter and I… I didn’t know how to. Just turn around and go ‘Hey Pa can I go turn into a hawk’ while you’re warning me about magic you don’t understand?!”
“Avoidin’ a conflict doesn’t stop it existin’. You knew that we’d be worried, maybe stop you, so you kept it secret.” He declared, and raised a finger before she could counter. “I don’t wanna lecture. You’ve had a rough enough time of it. But movin’ forwards, we gotta communicate better, alright?”
“Sure, but… I can only talk like this.”
“Problem identified. How dextrous are ya?”
She glanced at her hands thoughtfully, the back of them was still alien to her, “Not very. I can hold things…. maybe finger paint, I can nod and shake, it’s pretty slow.”
“Alright. How about a fist for good?” He held out his fist, “And bad… just lots of shaking?”
Karen bumped his fist, “That works. I lose a digit so we match.”
He chuckled, rubbing the stump of his missing finger, “Ah, good. So how was flyin’?”
“Amazing! Best hour of my life, I got so high up, I completely put Logan to shame and he’s actual magic. Like, it was hard work to get up, even with Maddie throwing, but once I figured out thermals I could go anywhere, the sky was mine,” She gushed as he listened, nodding as if it confirmed something for him, and she found herself even recalling the terrified griffin flight eagerly.
Only the appearance of a small mountain of barbecued meat interrupted her story as the waitress set a plate and platter down, “Here ya’are, anything to drink?”
“I’ll have a coffee- and these go the other way around.” Pa pulled the plate to him, and shoved the platter over as Karen’s eyes widened. “Well? What are you waiting for? We don’t have all night.”
No more prompting was needed. Karen found herself tearing into like a dervish, and almost choked before her body reminded her of the biped art of chewing. It was hot and spicy, lacking blood but thankfully not dry, and she felt her lips burn and eyes water with a mix of intensity and delight. Over two thirds of it was gone by the time she slowed, sneezed and took stock, licking her lips.
“That wasn’t very ladylike was it?”
“No. Don’t panic.” Pa said calmly, “It’s seven forty. You’ve still got twenty minutes.”
“Yeah I can tell time Pa, I’m not a child,” She rolled her eyes, flicked her tail and picked up the next rib before reviewing her nervous system. “Oh. Pa?”
“Your tail’s appeared. Nothin’ else.” He could have been discussing weather as he stood and turned to the bar, “Stay put a second, alright?”
Her nails scratched into the table, and she nodded, risking a glance back. A furry grey tail with a dark leonine tuft whipped restlessly behind her. It had to be as long as she was tall, her usual griffin size- was the Veil ending? Greasy fingers felt her ears, nose, then peaked down her borrowed shirt but there were no other changes, no UV colours. So why?
“Come on, kiddo. We’ll finish it outside.” Pa returned calmly and piled the barbecue onto the platter, “Get the door please.”
“Pa.” Karen hissed urgently, tail lashing like a whip, “There’s bipeds. They’ll see.”
“Yes. You’ll be seen, Karen. Don’t worry, don’t be dramatic, just stand up slowly and match my pace.” He stood calm as a lake, immovable as a mountain. While she was lashing around like a frantic cub, showing weakness!
With gritted teeth, she willed the muscles to tense, swivelled over the bench, stood, and gingerly found the door. No claws, no wings, no colours. Karen pushed it, straightening her tail out for balance, and ducked out into the sunset. Smooth, calm, dignified.
Then the door hit the tail, she squeaked, and in a heartbeat she was at the car. Or, to be precise, on the cars roof.
“No. Down.” Pa scowled, set the platter on a picnic bench and quickly unlocked the car, “Where’s the Veil? Sure you drank it?”
“YES! On the hour, I’m not an idiot!” Karen snapped and slid off, ripped the door open and grabbed the flask, hurriedly unscrewing i-
“A lidful Karen. Dr Morris said pour a whole lidful and drink it from that.”
“But it’s faster from the bottle? Does that matter?” She scurried to the bench and poured it out gingerly.
“Doctor’s orders.”
“Fine, fine.” It was ridiculous if that was the flaw, but magic was ridiculous and she drank the little cupful, half her previous mouthfuls. It was no less horrid for that, and she wrinkled her nose at the meat platter, “Urgh, the taste’s going to ruin all of this.”
“Your tail’s still there.”
“Be gone in a minute, don’t watch.” She sat, and bit into a drumstick tentatively only to gag, “Knew it.”
“Alright.” He sat on the other side with that thick folder from Morris, with her ID card and leaflets and far too much writing. “Any idea why that happened?”
“Nope. Other veils were all painful, I didn’t even feel that. What if I’m becoming immune? Or was I acting too… griffin-y? Do I need to use cutlery?”
“Noone uses cutlery for these.” He took a drumstick, “If I fold down the last seat you’d still fit in the car.”
“Like a corpse in a coffin.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s nearly two hours drive, kiddo, you’re not flyin’. You full?”
“No I’m still a bit hungr-uuuurgh,” She shuddered as a horrid slimy cold sensation engulfed the appendage, and she felt it melt back into her, a freezing grey ripple sliding across the rest of her skin. “It’s the woooorst!”
“Oh damn, that’s a weird Veil.” Came a whistle as the waitress from the steak house approached, a curious grin on her tired features. “Ya okay there?”
“Yes, just needed a top up. We’ll leave the plates.” Pa explained calmly, “What’s that?”
“Forgot your sandals there, miss. And there’s some water as a palette cleanser,” She placed the foot-cages and a glass on the table, then dropped her voice, “Hope you don’t mind me asking, but what are you?”
Karen blinked and shimmied along the bench. “You know Veil- uh, you first?”
“Oh, sorry, plain human. I actually had Veil by accident, very weird experience, ya got my sympathies!”
“How do you have Veil by accident?” Pa rumbled, unaware of Karen’s deep blush.
“Was up in Seattle, big party- well, my boyfriend’s birthday, not his party, but reason to celebrate, you know? Enjoying drinks- and someone must have slipped a little magic in. Don’t know if it was tasteless, but you have enough then you don’t notice a little weirdness?” Gina shrugged, “Anyhow, timed it right for midnight, then all… hmm… gotta say… two hundred of us, suddenly got the pains and headaches, and then bam, we got horns and hooves? Crazy night.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Someone spiked hundreds of drinks?!” Karen repeated, “Why?”
“Magic PR I guess- make a big scene, prove magic’s real. It hurt and all, but noone got injured- we was all just… fauns? Or satyrs? Caused quiiiiite the panic, some just fled out into the streets, some… well, we kinda figured it was a hallucination and had a great time, really spiced things up.” Gina grinned, coiling hair around one finger, “Only discovered it was real next morning when I woke up with thre-”
“An Emergence stunt.” Pa grunted. “Think I heard of that one.”
“Shit that’s messed up,” Karen muttered, “Uh, sorry Pa.”
“Not your fault dear. Probably? Ha, I’m messing, what are ya anyway?” She laughed and reached for an almost empty plate. “Sphinx, right? Looked lion-y. ”
“Leave them!” Karen snapped, then swallowed. “I’m… not done. And, no… griffin.”
Gina blinked at the plate of nothing but bones, then gave her a forced smile. “Right. Well, here’s some napkins, just leave the plates, and a safe flight, I guess? Are you old enough to fly?”
“Yeah. Duh.”
“Thanks for the meal, have a good evenin’” Pa intervened, letting the waitress hurry back to the restaurant. “Karen. You didn’t need to scare her.”
“Wasn’t trying.” Karen pulled a new rib free, “She was stealing.”
“People don’t normally want the bones, kiddo.”
“Oh.” She gnawed a little grit free, “I think they’re food. So they should be fine, for me…. Sorry for panicking.”
“You didn’t do too bad. Part from sprintin’ onto the car, that was a pretty smooth exit.”
“No- not now. The other night. If I’d stayed still, then… Logan’d be-”
“Hindsight’s twenty twenty. Anyone’d panic at that change.” He rumbled, “Just gotta do better next time, right? I’m not gonna be rid of you, griffin, human, mermaid or whatever. Can you eat off napkins? We should get back on the road.”
“Back home? Or to OAR?”
“We’re closer to home, I figure less travel time, less chance of an incident.” He mussed her hair, “And I trust you can keep your head if it does come up, give me enough warnin’ to pull over.”
“I’ll try,” Karen promised, and piled the bones into a napkin, last rib in her teeth as she took her seat again, and they hit the road once more. It was a little easier, perhaps with the full stomach, or perhaps with the setting sun painting the sky above gold and crimson behind them, or perhaps her Pa’s company.
He asked her more, trying to recap the weeks and her experience with magic, and she slowly told most of it. Maddie was too important to spill the beans on, even to him, but she grudgingly confessed skiving school to help with the camp, which amused him. “Probably learned more doin’ that than you would’ve that day,” he admitted, and felt punishment was too cruel after the horrors of the weekend. He asked a lot about the Mystics of the camp, her swim, her flight, and stopped asking about Sunday when she quietly described Scevola.
* * * * *
The sky above was black and star speckled, clouds tinged orange by street-lights when they pulled into the drive. Karen escaped the buckle and stretched, then turned when light streamed from the front door.
Her Mom was there. Short and sharp, long black hair streaked with silver, voice hoarse and anxious, “Ernest, did you get her? Karen?”
“Sylvia, just take a mo-”
“Mom!” Karen squealed and dashed up, wrapping her arms around her mother, rubbing her head off her shoulder, “I’m here, I’m okay, I’m home!”
Hard hands seized her shoulders and pushed her back. Her mothers eyes danced with tears, but showed no flash of recognition, only a furrow of the brows, a tremble of fear. “Ernest. What’s going on? Who is this? Where’s my daughter?”
“That’s her. Magic’s changed her, but she’s still our Karen.” Pa promised, and placed a big gentle hand on both of their shoulders, “Sorry I didn’t have time to phone. It’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” Sylvia hissed, stepping back with a sharp breath, “What do you mean? What did that flying monster do to he-”
“That was me, Mom.” Karen whimpered, eyes stinging with tears, “That is me.”
Her mother’s face wracked with horror. “What?”
“Karen, go clear some space In the garage.” Pa ordered, stepped between them, and wrapped his arms around Sylvia, “Dear, I’ll explain. Come on, lets sit.”
And then they were in the lounge, voices raising, and Karen staggered as tears broke through. Her Mom didn’t know her. The world blurred, vivid colours swimming into view, and she shuffled back outside by the car. Her Mom didn’t know her.
She wavered on the driveway, blinking as new colours emerged, colouring the stars to new brilliant patterns. An invitation to fly the heavens. If she wasn’t welcome, why would she stay? They thought she was a monster. There was game in the forest, and her stomach grumbled eagerly at the thought of elk or buck. She had wings now.
But home was home, it had been for ten years now, it wasn’t cast aside that easily. And she was still injured, still hungry, so she grabbed the napkin bag of bones from the car and hurried through the hall, and through the squeaky door.
The garage was crammed full of memories, old bikes and her first trampoline, fishing rods and tent poles, Pa’s spare timber and Mom’s big old mirror. Her Mom didn’t recognize her. She sat on the step, missing her long hair, missing her tan skin, missing her dark eyes and mothers nose. Her fingers found the bones and pressed them against the stone stair’s edge, pushing each until, with satisfying cracks, each split in her fingers. When she ran out of remains, she stood and shoved clear a corner, moving the ridiculous bikes and the stupid baby trampoline and the big old mirror-
Red-gold eyes made her flinch. Karen stumbled back, then squeaked and grabbed the mirror before it fell, taking in the griffin eyes that glared from her human face. That was why she saw the other colours- something had broken her Veil again? She shoved the mirror against a wall and turned quickly, heart thundering, where was the Veil, was it in the car outside under the sk-
She tumbled with something like a hiccup, if a hiccup unleashed gigantic wings, a lashing tail, feathery pelt and fierce claws. In a heartbeat the clothes were ripped, the disguise was gone, Veil torn, and her griffin-self tensed, ready for the pain.
It didn’t come.
At least, no new pain, her scars and wounds ached as ever, but as with Verity the change itself was instant and painless. She stood and rolled her shoulders, shrugging off rags, and stretched from wing to tail tip. There went any possibility of talking to her mother. She could get Veil, but why endure that melting agony again just for the woman to be repulsed?
She shuddered and folded her wings, turning about the space to catch sight of the mirror. She’d never gotten to see her reflection before, and bright patches surprised her- her underbelly and inner wings were paler, slightly blue, while her leonine quarters had a faint mottling pattern to them. Her back was darker, save for a few striking patches near the eyes, forehead and end of her wing feathers, far from a plain boring grey!
The door squeaked, and she turned to see her sire there, a calm unsurprised look on his face, and he knelt and extended a four fingered fist. “Ah. Wore off. All calm?”
She gave a small nod, and headbutted his fist and Pa chuckled and patted her there, “Close enough. Sorry, wasn’t something to explain over the phone, but your mother will come around. Just give her some time. Oh- did you give up on the bones?”
Communication was hard so she just pecked a bone shard down without discomfort.
“Right, s’long as you’re sure. Want a mattress? Blankets? Duvet?” He asked as she nodded or shook, “Alright. No runnin’ off in the night.”
That was easy, and she finished the bones and shoved some more objects aside before he came with multiple loads of blankets all piled up. She repositioned it and circled on the makeshift bed, which amused him for some reason, before curling up, tail by her beak, wings folded close, and felt a lot of things.
“Right. Goodnight kiddo, welcome home,” Pa waved and flicked the light off, sounding the same as ever. Out of everything, he was the only consistency. She was home, but she wasn’t in her room, she wasn’t even in her skin, her mother barely knew her and her brother… was probably asleep. Yet Pa was solid as ever, not confused, not even surprised as far as she could see. It was like he knew everything.
* * * * *
Sleeping wasn’t hard for a griffin. Loathe as she was to admit it, her pelt was warm and cosy, and she had fed well even without hunting.
The door was damn squeaky though.
It startled her the first time someone checked on her, and darted upright only in time to see the door close and hear footsteps on the stairs. Quick and fast- had it been Mom?
She resisted chasing down the peeper. She was scary enough, and she curled back up, and held still the next time the door squeaked. And the time after that. Let them see she was still here. Let them know she was back, this was her territory. Her home.
* * * * *
The damn door squeaked again. She woke up wishing she had oiled it.
But this time there was daylight, footsteps, and a low voice gasping, “Wooooow.”
Karen opened an eye slowly to see Ollie, tiny with his wild black hair and wide green eyes, “Uh. Hey sis?”
He knew her. Karen stood carefully, chirped and reached around to hug him with blunt talon-less wings. He gasped at the embrace, then leaned into it, arms wrapping around her neck with a manic giggle, “Wow, you are waaaaay fluffier than Pa said!”
Fluffy? Karen snorted, kicked his legs out, and lay down, burying him in feathers as he gasped and wriggled. She was gentle, bipeds like Logan were fragile, and he was able to wriggle free without harm, “Fine, fine, it’s you! How many stitches do you have? That’s badass!”
She nodded and spread her left wing a little wider, the one marked by shotgun wounds, but he missed the point and tried to grab her tail instead. Idiot. But amusement and joy was far more welcome than terror and suspicion, and she held still when he clambered on her back.
“Alright, this is cool- Pa’s got breakfast in the kitchen, okay? And there’s human stuff in the bathroom if you want? Alright, mush!” He ordered, and she sat down, shrugged him off and loped through to the bathroom.
The little silver lid of veil was there as she expected, and she drank it quickly, cursing inwardly as the freezing magical vice melted her into grey clay. When her lips and teeth formed, she cursed outwardly until the pain ended, and she was left sweaty, four limbed and short haired once more.
But she had access to a shower and clothes this time, and took her time cleaning and grooming herself. Now that she looked, the scars were considerable- a constellations of markings about her shoulder, from shoulderblade to clavicle. A few others, memories of the shattered window, marked her thigh, forearm and hip, but they were mainly scabbing and might vanish in time.
Her usual clothes were made for a smaller form, so Karen darted upstairs afterwards, lingering at the entrance to her room. The little messy bedroom looked like a crime scene. Which was fair, she supposed, but was not welcome.
Yellow tape fluttered across the open window, her guitar and dozens of school books were on her mattress, and her wardrobe pillaged by some idiot looking for clues. But that did reveal some looser t-shirts and shorts she tugged on, and they had charged her phone for her, no doubt seeking information on it too. Karen frowned and perched on the bed, unlocking the device- eighteen texts and seven missed calls.
Was that high or low for a missing girl? Karen shrugged, glanced through them- Caleb, Emily, Toby, Anna and… a lot from Maddie. She swallowed and started there, fingers tapping out a message- or no, did she owe an apology? An explanation?
Pa said some things were best handled in person. A change in species felt like big news. Not something to text.
The kitchen was warm and familiar thankfully, Pa frying some bacon at the grill while Ollie finished a plateful, and gasped at her appearance.
“Really squirt?” Karen sat and forced a fierce smile “This weirds you out more than the griffin?”
“Yeah,” He scoffed, reaching across to tap her boyish locks, “I’ve got longer hair than you!”
“Congrats, I’ll braid it sometime. Why aren’t you at school?”
“He accused me of favouritism. And he’s gonna help us set things up for you today.” Pa piled an odd plate with ham, bacon, sausage, a pancake, a fried egg, an apple and a banana then set it before her.
“Set up?” She started with a piece of ham, eyeing the fruit suspiciously.
“Yeah. Homely..” He turned the grill off, and sat down, “Obviously clear out the garage, make it your space, sort out the old stuff for storin’, sellin’ or dumpin’. Make sure the sheriff knows you’re found, do some shoppin’, tougher blankets, stuff for clawin’, spare clothes. And figure out your diet a bit, how much you need to be goin’ on.”
Karen stared.
“At least try the fruit and bread, kiddo. You’re not completely carnivorous, and Kingsley will come here soon so we can find out how magic affects your diet.”
“How do you know?” She snapped suddenly, suspicion bubbling up, “Griffin’s aren’t well studied, Hill measured me. How do you know so much?!”
“Did research. Ain’t the only griffin in the world.”
“When?” Karen demanded, “Did you know this was coming? My change? You’re the only one who wasn’t surprised!”
Those deep green eyes looked over her, then the big man shook his head slowly. “No. I’m surprised.”
“Then how come you’re so calm!? How come you’re not freaked out? Or scared?”
“I’m not scared either!” Ollie protested.
“You don’t count squirt.”
“Be nice, Karen. Ollie, we’ll take a while, you can go play some games.” Pa ordered.
“She’s nicer as a griffin.” He stuck out his tongue and escaped.
Leaving just her Pa and her. Karen stood, took a step back and knocked the chair over, “You don’t want him to hear? Why? What are you hiding?”
“Nothin’. I don’t know where you’re gettin’ this from.” He sat calmly, arms folded, “Did you sleep poorly?”
“No, I’m getting this from YOU, there’s unflappable and then there’s… you’ve not been surprised by anything, you’ve stayed perfectly calm! How is that not suspicious?!”
“I see. Guess I got the balance wrong then.” Pa pinched his brow, and his shoulders sagged slightly, a dry chuckle rasping out. “Your mother worried you by panickin’ too much, and I worried you by not panickin’ enough. Sorry, kiddo.”
“The balance?” She narrowed her eyes, “You seriously don’t know more?”
“Everything I know is on this pad,” He flicked through a handful of pages, notes of scratching posts, warmth, claustrophobia and diet. “I told you, one issue at a time. We gotta keep you healthy.”
“But this is... almost nothing? You saw me as a monster, you saw me as a random girl with this face, and you didn’t flinch!?”
“I did. I wasn’t entirely composed with Morris. But you’re more than your appearance, Karen, how you move and how you hold yourself… honestly you’re more yourself like this than you were last week. I recognized you, kept me calm.” He frowned, and leaned back in his chair, “I know I’m not the most excitin’. And I have been scared. But strength, fortitude, courage, whatever you wanna call it, it ain’t ‘bout muscles or power. It’s just holdin’ steady against panic.”
Karen choked back a bitter laugh, and shook her head, “I don’t know how you can do that.”
“Age. Helps that I’m awful borin’. You don’t need to be a stoic, you’re having a hard time. But I’m your Pa, I’m meant to deal with your teenage drama, not the other way around.”
Karen cocked her head, “Was it you? At night? The door?”
“Ah, I woke you? Sorry.”
“I’m not running away again Pa.”
His moustache shifted and he wavered, then nodded and stood, chin on her head and arms around her again. “Ya. I know. We’ll get used to it.”
“Hopefully not.” She rubbed her head against him, then sat, “How long until this witch comes?”
“Couple hours. Eat up- and try everything at least a bit. We’ll see how your other taste buds work another time.” He dug into his own, and she forced herself to work cutlery for a time.
Then she paused and produced the phone again, looking over the numbers, a brook echoing in her memories.