"What have you gotten yourself into?" Gran asked, looking over her granddaughter's feline form. "First kidnapping, then—then whatever this is?" When she got no response from Lorissa, Gran scuffed her foot on the dirt. "But I'm old enough and pragmatic enough to admit it worked."

Cradling Stanton in her decidedly fuzzy arms, Lorissa was still a little confused at how fast she'd moved. One moment she'd been standing twenty feet away, then she realized Stanton was falling, there was a flash of light, and then she was beside him, cradling the werewolf in her arms. Now, though, she looked past Stanton to where Gran had crouched to inspect the soil. Instead of the dirty brown mess that usually made up the soil around their town—this was a deep black color and she could see worms and bugs moving in the little handful Gran had pulled up. "It worked? Nya."

"I wouldn't be this forgiving if it didn't. Look around you. She didn't just do this bed, either. Every field I can see is like this—No. I bet the whole town is like it." Shaking her head, Gran stood up and winced at the popping noise in her knees. Muttering something about getting too old, she clicked her tongue at Lorissa. "Can you turn the pair of you back?"

Working one hand out from under Stanton without dropping him, Lorissa looked at her wand. "I think so. Nya. Well, me at least. Hey, wand, can—"

"Put her down, first. Or take her back home. I don't care. Just get somewhere people won't see you before they can look up to figure out who did this." Gran glared at Lorissa until the girl got the hint and started off toward their house at a run. "I swear, I leave that girl alone for five minutes and she becomes a brigand, a kidnapper, finds herself some noble squeeze, saves the town, and gets mixed up in magic." She shook her head and started walking to where a group of the townsfolk were gathered. "Seems we have ourselves some soil."

----------------------------------------

Stanton woke up cuddled against something warm. Warm, and purring. Opening his eyes, he barely got a moment of a flash before the purring had stopped and he was looking into Lorissa's human eyes. "Were you playing with your wand?"

Giving her wand a little pat of thanks, Lorissa slipped it into a loop at her side and turned her attention back to Stanton. "I have no clue what you are talking about, little mouse." At Stanton's raised eyebrow and her own realization of what she'd called him, Lorissa blushed and tried to push on. "I had to go fuzzy or you would have fallen on the ground."

"I'm not that delicate—but thanks." Stanton willed himself to sit up a bit more, but there was the problem of Lorissa's arm around his shoulder pinning him to her side. "Uh, can I get up now?"

"You aren't going to ask why you passed out?" Lorissa, despite all her best efforts, couldn't get the image of Stanton as a mouse from her head. What was worse, she licked her lips from time to time.

"Was it because I turned too mu—"

"It was because you turned the entire town and every farm around it to have the best dirt magic can make—or so Gran said. She has given me an order, too, that I need to take you wherever you want to go and apologize to your family and offer myself as a bondswoman to them in the hope they won't come here to round everyone up."

"Pfft, I'd be surprised if anyone has noticed me missing yet." Stanton gave up trying to free himself. He could, easily, have dislodged Lorissa, but that would likely require hurting her—and definitely hurting her feelings. "We had a deal, though."

"Hrmm." Weighing up her options, Lorissa thought about what Stanton had gotten her to swear to. At the very least she'd get to spend more time getting to know Stanton. "A promise is a promise, but I want a little time to myself. Gran was probably joking about the bondswoman bit—"

"No! I mean. I don't want you like that. I want to teach you magic and show you how to help me fight the dragon. Then we can—we can fight bad guys and stuff." Stanton was fumbling for words. He might be a member of the aristocracy, but neither side of his family believed that indentured servitude was a good practice. His new feelings on good and bad were even less conflicted. "If you don't want to help, I won't actually hold you t—"

Pulling her finger back from where she'd poked Stanton's nose, Lorissa smirked. "Nope."

Blinking in surprise at the interruption, Stanton asked, "'Nope'?"

"Definitely nope. All my life I've had this one little trick in my head. I've used wands, but most people can use those—I'm just stupid enough to use dangerous ones. Do you know what it's like never being able to use real magic? Nope!" Lorissa couldn't help poking Stanton's nose again for the fun of it. "And now you give me this. I can turn into a cat like you can turn into a wolf. I feel magic pouring through me like I can feel it pouring through you. You offer to show me more of it, then say 'but if you don't want to…'"

Stanton tried to open his mouth to reply, but was stopped by another prod on the nose. Lifting one hand up, he covered his nose.

"Even Gran is telling me to go away and do something better with my life. This town won't die now, at least, so I can leave." With Stanton holding his hand over his nose, and with her newfound reflexes and speed, Lorissa stole a kiss from him. She didn't linger—staying barely long enough for his eyes to start to widen before she pulled back. "So, tell me when you're ready and I'll take you back to civilization."

"I'm ready. How are we going to get to Conjur?" Still not bothering to break free of Lorissa's grip, Stanton looked up at her and silently cursed his slight-but-noticeable loss of height.

"If you're hoping we have a teleporter hub here, you're in the wrong town. We'll ride my horse. Slow if you want to keep wearing a dress, faster if you'll fit into a pair of pants." Lorissa was sure Stanton wouldn't go for it. The dress he'd been wearing when he'd arrived, combined with his comfort wearing his latest attire made her absolutely sure she'd get a nice, long ride with a pretty woman in a dress.

----------------------------------------

In his whole life, Stanton had never ridden a horse in a dress before, and he never planned to. The linen pants Gran had provided were comfortable, and he was enjoying the ride immensely. The strong pair of arms on each side of him had little to do with it—he assured himself. "That's Conjur."

It was their second evening riding, and even though Lorissa could see the light of the city in the distance, she knew their likelihood of reaching it before full dark was nil. "Seems like it would be a good time to stop and make some dinner."

"More stew?" Stanton lifted one leg up and over the horse's withers and slid down its shoulder. Stretching his legs a little, he tapped Angel on the head where she lay in the crook of his arm. "Are you still with us, Angel?"

Yawning and lifting her head, Angel fixed Stanton with a bleary-eyed look. "Why aren't we home yet? You could have run us home already."

"Running home wasn't how things had to be. Besides, we got to figure out where the dragon was practicing, didn't we?"

"Ugh. You're not going to let me live this down, are you?" Glaring at Stanton, Angel stuck her tongue out.

"You mean that if I'd gone chasing off after the dragon I wouldn't have found my first ally? Nope." To soften the blow against her ego, Stanton gave Angel's ears a little rub. The way she leaned into it told him she absolutely "hated" it.

"What are you two talking about?" Lorissa had tied the horse to a tree with enough lead it could graze, while lifting out two blankets, her cooking pot, and a skein with more of the watery stew in it. The last, she was unsurprised to see, had her cat laying on it. "Keeping it warm for us? Thank you."

Flicking his tail, the cat looked up at the woman and nodded his head. Carefully, he climbed off the warm pouch and up her arm, only stopping when he threaded his way under her hair to settle across her shoulders. "You are welcome." Three words earned him an ear rub, as was his due.

The feel of the cat against her was soothing. Lorissa worked at getting a small fire started and the last of the stew into the pot and warming up. After a little quiet time—punctuated mostly by Stanton and Angel arguing about something—she asked, "What's your name?" of her furry companion.

"Swiftpaw Deathbringer."

Running the name over in her thoughts, Lorissa nodded. "That is a very good name."

"Yes."

"Okay." Stanton had made a decision and it was time to come more clean. "So you know all this?" He gestured at his feminine qualities—chest, hips, and hair.

Looking a little owlish, Lorissa again nodded. "A little. I'd like to know more about it."

That wasn't the reply Stanton wanted, but it was the one he expected by now. "Right, so, I wasn't born with this."

Lorissa covered her mouth and scoffed a laugh. "I would hope not! What's your point, Lulu?"

That drew Stanton up short and distracted him completely. "'Lulu'?"

"I know we're not exactly at the cute nickname stage yet, but I think it suits you."

Closing his eyes, Stanton muttered, "I wish I had the strength to just… Okay, let me try another way. I was born a man."

Shrugging, Lorissa asked, "So? It's not that uncommon. Being noble, I bet the spells are really easy to get your paws on." After a moment she corrected, "Hands!"

Ignoring her constant language difficulty, Stanton pushed on. "I still am a man, Lorissa."

"I like to think I'm an expert on this, but I'm willing to hear you out. So, you're a man." Rubbing her chin, Lorissa gave Stanton a good going over with her eyes. "Fine. But why were you wearing a dress?"

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

"Gran gave me—"

"No. On the train, Lulu."

Realizing he was outmatched, Stanton couldn't help but admit to himself that Lorissa had become harder to fool. "I was attending a ball in the capital. I told them I used a spell to become a woman to save fashion from the travesty of modern designs."

"That confirms you are definitely a noble. So, if you're not Louise Silverclaw, who are you Lulu?"

Cards on the table, Stanton thought. "Stanton Raveel-Sharptooth." He gave a bow that he aborted and turned into a curtsy. Her look, he noticed, was for once shocked. "Louise Silverclaw is a name I use when I need to pretend I'm someone I'm not."

"I've heard of the Sharptooths. I guess that accounts for your werewolf side alright. Raveel?"

"My father's an arch-mage. I'm an experiment by both families." Stanton looked down at his rough hands and lamented the lack of moisturizing oil. "You want to know the best bit? Both expect me to be their agent at the school. It means I have all my coursework and two other jobs."

"Three, now," Lorissa said. "Remember, you have to fight the forces of evil."

Yawning, Angel sat up and pointed at Lorissa. "Exactly, I"—she yawned again—"keep trying to tell him that."

"Hey, no ganging up on me. I think I've been doing a good job so far." Stanton sat down and looked over the fire, giving it a little nudge with a fraction of his magic so a tiny elemental curled up in the middle of it. "The dragon didn't kill anyone yet;"—he started ticking off items on his fingers—"I recruited another, uh, hero; and I saved a town from turning to evil!"

Grunting, Angel settled down in the fabric stretched between Stanton's knees. "You let it burn a forest."

"I'd rather it burn a forest than burn a town. Besides, if it wants to waste its time, let it. We'll reach Conjur tomorrow and I'll let the city guard know I saw the dragon while you were bringing me back to the city." Nodding to Lorissa, Stanton raised one hand to his forehead. "Wouldn't you know? The town militia chased off the brigands and then you volunteered to help me back to Conjur. Here was I, a young noble coming home after having a little fun in the capital." When he looked at Lorissa, he saw both her and her cat staring at him like he'd made a bad smell. "What? Too much?"

"Way too much. You're overselling it. They don't care about half of that and all you're doing is ruining your image."

The words wouldn't have surprised Stanton so much if they'd come from Lorissa or Angel, but they'd come from the cat. The very same cat who hadn't said more than one word to him so far. "So what do you suggest?"

Sighing and closing his eyes, Swiftpaw said, "Tell them about the brigands being chased off, but forget the rest."

Stanton thought about it and, ultimately, realized he'd been getting carried away with "Huh. I guess. Thanks… Uh?"

"His name is Swiftpaw Deathbringer," Lorissa said, giving Swiftpaw a little attention as her way of apologizing for giving out his name. "Anyway, here's the last of the stew. I guess this was all a bit—uh—"

"Delicious," Stanton said, taking the bowl. "Food that's filling is ten times better than those snooty canapes that will never fill you even if you shovel them into your mouth."

"Hold on." Her eyes widening, Lorissa was starting to understand something. "How am I going to survive in Conjur? I can probably make a little money doing things but—Why are you grinning?"

"How about this, I'll get you somewhere to live and pay you enough to cover food and some extra, and you work for it by helping me fight the forces of evil?" Stanton asked.

Lorissa scooped up some stew on her spoon and blew on it to cool it a touch. "And when there's no evil to fight?"

"Then I'll teach you magic. You can use it now, after all."

Fighting the urge to jump up and do a dance, rush over and hug Stanton, or sing a song of happiness (or all three), Lorissa hid her grin by shoveling the stew into her mouth and burning her palate. Magic. The word held a special place in her that she'd thought long-since stomped to dust. A young girl in a black, pointed hat did a dance in her head and screamed I'm going to learn magic! at the top of her lungs. "I guess that will be okay."

They finished their meal and each found a cozy spot to lie down. Stanton turned his attention to defense and put up a layered set of wards around their camp that started with a Go Away ward, progressed to a Alarm ward, and finally ended in a more proactive Come Any Further And You Will Be Rendered Unconscious one.

With the skirts of the woolen dress to keep him cozy, he started to drift off to sleep, only to feel an arm drape over his side and pull him back a little against a firm stomach. He could have made a big deal out of it, but they were both dressed enough that nothing more could happen.

----------------------------------------

Waking with a hand clutched to his chest wasn't exactly a surprise to Stanton. He knew Lorissa had a thing for him and he'd let her cuddle him like a stuffed toy. A gentle touch revealed his wards were still intact, which meant nothing had tried to breach them. "Wake up, Lorissa."

"Mmm, but I want another cu—Oh." Lorissa was disappointed with the outcome of her nice dream. "Have you considered not wearing a dress to bed?"

Noting her taking her time drawing back from him, Stanton rolled his eyes. "At home I only wear a thin silk nightgown."

Lorissa knew of silk. She'd seen young dandies wearing shirts made of it, had watched the fabric that looked so thin seem to reveal so much but so little at the same time—and had wondered what it would look like on a woman. "Then what are we waiting for?"

"You to let me get up. Then we pile everything together and head to Conjur. I'll have to explain why I was gone from the school for a few days, but we can cover that at the guardhouse first. I'll have to stop, first, and change into more comfortable things."

----------------------------------------

The ride into the city wasn't as long as Stanton had feared. He directed Lorissa through the streets and around to the side entrance of his tower. At the ground level was the entrance and a small stable he'd never used. "You can put your horse in there. There's no grain or anything, but you could find a stable hand to pay. Have them send me a bill."

Staring up at the floors above ground level, Lorissa knew her mouth was open. "You own this—this mage tower?" She snapped her gaze back to Stanton as he slid off the horse.

"What? No. My mom owns it. I live here." He didn't feel like fielding too many I've never been in a rich place before questions, so Stanton walked to the door, unlocked it with his magic, and walked inside. He was already planning for the truly epic-duration bath he wanted to take, but it would have to wait until after his visit to the guardhouse.

Unsaddling her horse and giving it a quick brush down, Lorissa felt like she was missing out on something by not following Stanton in directly, but at the same time she didn't want to neglect her horse. She was about done giving him a quick going over when Stanton appeared in the doorway again—looking completely different.

If Lorissa didn't know he was getting changed, she never would have recognized the disheveled man striding out the door. He wore a pair of good boots, good quality trousers that looked like they had a week of road dust on them, and one of those fine silk shirts that she knew of—with a few cuts in the sleeves and, again, plenty of dust.

He was a man. All Stanton's curves were hidden, the swell of his chest suppressed, and Lorissa was confused at how his features seemed to be more masculine. It was a makeover that should have taken literal magic to pull off. "Are you using magic to do that?" Of Angel there was no sight.

"No. My wardrobe is just this good." Stanton could feel a little of the tension that had been ever-present between them evaporate. "So, you're the brave adventurer who escorted me back from the den of scum and villainy—"

"Hey, Gran isn't that bad. There's practically no scum."

Stanton had a flash of insight. He realized, as he walked alongside Lorissa, that he lost most of his finer eloquence whenever he was speaking with her or Cassandra. The interview was over and done in minutes. The sergeant at the desk took his complaint, nodded briefly to Lorissa, then stamped it and filed it away.

Walking out, Stanton had a copy of the report in his hand and a dumbfounded look on his face. "I can't believe that worked."

"Your mistake," Swiftpaw said, "is forgetting that everyone has a cat inside them. That cat is selfish and wants to hear whatever it takes to get through life."

"Well, whatever. It establishes that I was kidnapped, but rescued, and now I can take this to the academe and they won't complain that I missed a few days of school." As they walked back toward his tower, Stanton spotted one of his contacts. The old man was selling street-food as usual, and as Stanton walked over to him the smell of the usual seafood fare was growing stronger. "I'll take tw—three today, thanks!"

Scooping out three serves, the old man was about to slip a note to Stanton when he saw the flick of a hand gesture that he recognized. Too much to communicate—safe to use magic? He flashed back an affirmative and handed the note to Stanton along with the third helping of lobster.

Passing two helpings to Lorissa, Stanton paid the old man and turned away—the note went into his pocket. "I got you an extra serve because Swiftpaw deserves some for being so helpful."

His tail going straight, Swiftpaw leaned as far forward from Lorissa's shoulder as he could and sniffed. All semblance of his normally reserved self was subsumed by the amazing smell of the food. Walking down Lorissa's arm, he shoved his nose into the hollowed out bread roll and secured a piece of meat.

"I need to take care of something before I go to the school. You can settle in at the tower while I take care of all that. Actually, you could even try applying for a scholarship at the school." Picking over the food, Stanton loved to experience the simple meals that his adopted home had to offer. "Have you thought about that?"

"Well, I don't need to learn all the fancy stuff. I want magic I can use. I don't care about—about summoning and all that. What can I do that will make me faster and my opponent slower, or what can I do that will make life easier?" It took Lorissa a moment to realize she was stuck without enough hands to hold both helpings of food and eat from hers without putting them both in one hand—and with how fast Swiftpaw was working through his, she didn't like her chances of getting any.

"What about if we combine the two approaches?" Stanton couldn't help himself from smirking at Lorissa's feline problem. "You apply to the school for part-time training in magic, and at the same time I'll teach you the specific things you want."

"Right now I'd appreciate some kind of third paw. Hand. Ugh." Though, at that moment, Swiftpaw reached the bottom of his lunch and decided his best option was to crawl up Lorissa's arm, again.

Taking the empty paper, Stanton squeezed out a little magic and incinerated it quickly with high heat. "While I wouldn't normally suggest this, I have found that rolling with the changes this magic has made is the best way to get the maximum boost from it. It might feel silly, but after embracing my girly werewolf side I noticed a ramp-up of my power."

There had been an urge within Lorissa ever since she'd returned to being human the last time—one she'd clamped down on and denied. It had taken its toll on her to keep it bottled up, but she'd been so determined to resist it that it had become reflex. "So I should just"—she sighed and closed her eyes—"relax my paw and let it do its thing. Nya."

Stanton felt the rush of power through Lorissa. It was like, with two words, she'd gone from being an admittedly confronting person to being a force to be reckoned with. She buzzed with magic and the potential to do violence.

When she opened her eyes and they narrowed to slits, Lorissa felt like the motion around her was slowing. Every motion seemed to draw her attention until she categorized it and marked it as unimportant. Of all the people nearby, she recognized the old man that'd sold their lunch as being of interest—if not for how he'd acted, but because he was doing little things that didn't seem consistent with others.

But the number one person that she noticed was Stanton. Power dripped from him. Goodness too. It was similar to how she could sense truth, but far stronger simply because it didn't need anyone to say a word. "I can feel an extension of my—of my truth sense. It's like I can read the motives of everyone around me without them saying a word. Also, did you know everything is moving a bit slower now?"

"There might be a little precognition in this, I have a similar thing when it comes to fighting. Slower, though, implies that your senses and mind are accelerated. Do you seem to move sluggishly?" Stanton asked.

In answer, Lorissa moved viper-fast. She put her free arm around Stanton, kissed him on the lips for a moment that her new senses stretched into an eternity, then slipped back beside him. "Sluggish? Not particularly."

Available at: https://www.royalroad.com/profile/220350/fictions

This story is released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. If you are paying money to see this or the original creator, Damaged, is not credited, you are viewing a plagiarized copy of the story.