Belle lay flat on her belly on the floor of her cell, her legs in a middle split, relishing the delicious stretch. She pressed her palms into the floor and lifted her shoulders, arching her back. At the cell door, Lenna scoffed.

“If you think that shit’s impressive,” she said, “it’s not.”

This was how it went, ever since they’d been left alone together. Belle did nothing, Lenna made a comment. Belle did anything, Lenna made a comment. Belle said something kind, Lenna snapped at her.

Belle knew bait when she saw it, so she’d decided to act as if Lenna wasn’t there, because there was nothing she could do or say that would un-bait the hook.

Belle did, however, watch Lenna’s magic closely, to ensure she was familiar enough with who she was and how she worked so Belle could deescalate any conflict that might arise.

She’d always had a knack for interpreting magic, even before she’d been trained in it. But no training had made her better at reading magic than dealing with Richard. Because with him, any misinterpretation could kill her.

However, to really be able to understand Lenna, Belle would have to push her buttons. See what made Lenna rage, what broke her. And that was far too close to manipulation magic for Belle’s comfort.

Belle only used manipulation magic as the absolute last resort.

However, pretending Lenna and her hostile magic weren’t there was easier said than done. Once upon a time, Belle’s body, her movements, had been her most profound connection to the Mothers, giving her life and joy. But since she’d met Richard, they’d only given her trouble. Heartbreak. She felt betrayed by them, so she had betrayed them. Belle had hid them. She’d hid them so completely and for so long that the unthinkable happened: she began to lose her magic.

Now, trying to let her magic move through her body, stretching and contorting even in the face of judgment—some part of her screamed at her to still, to hide. To crawl under that cot and curl up in the safety of the Darkness.

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In a minute, she comforted that scared part of herself. We’re okay. Mere minutes longer, and if we need to hide then, we will.

She lay flat once again and clasped her hands above her back, then inhaled as she lifted them over her head. The urge to draw her magic protectively to her was still there, but she reasoned with the urge and on the exhale let her magic splay out, even venturing past the metal bars and hostile magic of the redhead. The forest beyond welcomed her even if her guard didn’t. It filled her with her next breath, and on the following exhale she stretched both body and magic even further. She noted the feel of a few human magics around camp, and—

A familiar, monstrous, terrified magic.

For a moment, Belle didn’t even breathe, still twisted in her odd pose. It was Clarix, there was no doubt, and she was far too close to the camp, heading straight for Belle. The only issue was that two guards stood between them, one of those being the one at her cell door.

Even if she used her best manipulation practice on Lenna, there was no time to explain that Clarix wasn’t a threat and to convince her to relay the message to the other guard. Clarix would stumble into human view any moment.

Belle’s muscles buzzed with magic as she barely skimmed the carved wooden floor of her cell, and then she was on her feet, and reaching through the bars. Lenna, back turned, never saw her coming. Belle drove three fingers into Lenna’s magic and struck a point at the left hip, severing a stream of magic that ran down their left leg. She buckled immediately.

Belle stood back, planted a foot, called forth everything she’d learned about Metalwork, and kicked the cell door.

Admittedly, in her haste to get to Clarix before she was spotted, Belle may have overdone the Metalwork. The bars blew clean off the cell, sending Lenna flying as well.

“Sorry!” Belle said as she sprinted past.

On bare feet guided by her magic, Belle slipped through undergrowth, hyper-focused on the wobbling magic of the scared beast. She barely noticed as she dodged someone struggling to drag Jac’s hammer along. She vaulted a tree root that jutted into her path, blew past the other guard she’d sensed and, rounding one last tree, crashed into Clarix, wrapping her in a hug.

Clarix made a short, shrill noise and collapsed into Belle’s arms, taking them both to the forest floor. She was filthy, sweaty, shaking, and, Mother Dark, she smelled awful, but Belle just hugged her.

“Hello, sweet stinky girl.” Then Belle switched into the language of monsters to assure Clarix it was alright now, Belle wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

As if on cue, the guard finally caught up.