PERIWINKLE

My eyes twitch open with a strange quiver of sensation. A mishmash of clashing flavors wriggles through my nerves.

I sit up cautiously, peering through the darkness. Faint moonlight seeps through the camper van’s windows, highlighting Jonah’s sleeping form tucked under his blanket.

The sight of his dark hair lying rumpled against the small pillow brings a twinge of affection into my chest that’s not totally familiar. I have the urge to reach over and smooth it back from his face.

But I don’t want to wake him up, and another splash of contrasting emotion hits me at the same time. Definitely not from him—it’s hitting me from too much of a distance, and his face doesn’t show any sign of stress—and we’re alone in the van. None of our shadowkind companions have snuck in to shelter in the shadows.

Have Raze and Hail gotten into another argument? I’m not sure how much I can intervene, but talking them down this evening seemed to help at least a little.

To avoid disturbing Jonah, I ease into the shadows to slip through the minute gap at the edge of the doorframe and re-materialized on the dirt track outside. The cool night air wisps against my skin. Crickets chirp in the thicker darkness of the woods.

I can’t pick up any signs of trouble with my other senses. Only another faint spurt that’s too muddled to decipher.

I’m not picking up any hostility in the impressions, at least. I don’t think I need to be afraid. But I’ve never sensed anything quite like this before.

Watching for any visible danger, I venture into the forest in the direction the pulses of emotion are emanating from. I can walk a little closer, get a better idea what’s going on, and if I think I need backup, I’ll call for the others then.

It turns out I don’t need to, though. I’ve taken less than ten steps before a lean figure topped with bright red hair emerges from the shadows next to me.

Mirage cocks his head, gazing down at me. He keeps his voice hushed, though his usual lively energy still ripples through it. “Where are you off to, our little rainbow?”

A trace of a blush touches my cheeks at the reference to my glowing hair and the various embarrassing emotions it’s put on display. “I’m getting some unusual feelings from something—or more than one thing—out this way. I thought I’d take a closer look.”

He clicks his tongue, mock-chiding. “All by yourself.”

I shrug. “I didn’t want to bother the rest of you if I didn’t need to. You could go back to the van.”

A grin stretches across Mirage’s face. “Exploring is much more interesting. If there’s trouble, I can outfox it for you.”

Another pang of affection fills me, even though the fox shifter has been irritable with me before. “You really don’t need to, but if you want to come along, I’m always happy to have company.”

“It’s settled, then. Mirage and Periwinkle, back in a twinkle.” He winks at me with a brief swish of his five tails before they vanish back into his human-esque body.

The rhyme comes with a brief flicker of satisfaction like fresh cherry pie. I smile at him. “You like playing with words a lot, don’t you?”

“I like playing with all the things. Why not have fun wherever you can?” He hops over a fallen log with a swift flip before landing. Then he stops, maybe realizing I can’t leap over quite so nimbly, and offers his hand to help me clamber over.

The grasp of his hand is unexpectedly steady. I kind of wish I didn’t have to let go of it.

I peer through the trees, continuing more cautiously as I wait for another of those strange sensations. For maybe a minute, nothing comes, and I start to think it’s gone and we should go back. Then another flare jitters through my nerves, seeming closer by.

I point up ahead. “Still this way.”

As he walks on beside me with a typical spring in his step, Mirage peers at me. “You’re not worried about what it could be?”

I consider the question. “A little. But not very much. It doesn’t feel bad, only… confused.”

“Confused people—and beings—can do bad things.”

“But sometimes they do good things too. Or they need help so that they can. If we ignore them, we’d never find out.”

He lapses into a short silence. “You like to unravel mysteries!”

He sounds so delighted with his revelation that I hate to correct him. “Sort of. I just… like to understand everyone. There are so many different feelings, and they don’t always make sense. And when I start sorting them out, a lot of the time that seems to make the other being happier too.”

I hesitate before glancing up at him. The words come out tentatively. “Like… you always look like you’re having fun on the outside. Like you’re happy. But sometimes I can tell you’re actually sad or even scared. There’s nothing wrong with that, you know. You might be happier if you let the other feelings out properly too.”

Mirage tenses with a flash of his fangs. “I don’t need any help. It’s all playing around.”

His voice is sharp, but the flare of emotion that prickles over my skin is more anxious than angry.

Braced to give him more space, I dip my head apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m realizing that a lot of beings don’t like it when I talk about how they feel. I really just… It’s all okay with me. I don’t need you to be happy. If it’s easier for you focusing on that, I wouldn’t bother you about it.”

Mirage opens his mouth and closes it again. An expression of consternation crosses his face. He gives his body a little shake, his fox ears shimmering into being through his ruddy hair.

“I don’t want to take about it,” he says.

I give him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t know your reasons, but there are things I don’t like talking about either. I guess I have to remember that more when it comes to everyone else.”

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His gaze darts to me, something shifting behind his bright brown gaze. “You aren’t trouble, Rainbow. The trouble’s in here.” He touches the side of his head and then the front of his chest. “I like how you are. When you’re not asking about those things. You want everyone to be happy.”

A spark of joy lights in my chest. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Your powers made problems, but never on purpose.”

“I wish the only thing I ever did was make people happy.”

Mirage hums. “Sometimes playing makes problems too, even though it should all be fun. I don’t…”

He halts with another waft of discomfort, sharp as a kumquat.

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Whatever’s happened, I’m sorry it happened to you. But you don’t have to tell me.”

He doesn’t say anything. He does reach out and clasp my hand. Warmth blooms over my skin from where our palms touch, and my smile turns a bit giddy.

Then I feel the topsy-turvy emotions in a sudden jolt from just up ahead.

I drop my voice to a whisper. “I think we’ve almost found… whatever it is.”

We creep along even more carefully, Mirage lifting his feet in an exaggerated pantomime and grinning at me. The trees thin around a small clearing, and I catch a glimpse of a hunched form between the trunks.

I stop where I have a full view, studying the creature. It stands on tall legs like a giraffe’s but twice as spindly, spikes jutting across its back and a thick tongue lolling from its crooked beak.

It raises that beak toward the leaves of the nearest tree but can’t seem to bite any off. A shudder of frustration runs through it, followed by another punch of tangled emotion.

As I try to pick apart the scrambled impressions, the creature’s entire body spasms. Its legs jerk to twice their previous height; its beak juts farther into a pointed, furred snout.

My breath catches in my throat. “It’s another of those odd changing shadowkind.”

I spoke at a murmur, but the creature’s new form must come with keener ears. Its head snaps toward me. With a thin shriek, it bolts toward the trees on the other side of the clearing and dives into the shadows.

Mirage springs forward. “I’ll catch it!” He flickers into fox form and then out of the physical world entirely in the space of a blink.

I hustle after both him and the creature, but my physical legs are already tiring from the walk. When I push them to a run, twinges of pain reverberate from my ankles.

Wincing, I slip into the swath of darkness along the edge of the clearing. But even when I throw myself forward as quickly as I can, I can’t feel any other beings in front of me.

They’ve already outpaced me. I don’t even know if they continued in the same direction or veered off somewhere.

I stop, surrounded by unfamiliar trees and bushes. The chill of the breeze penetrates the shadows.

With a shiver, I return to physical form. At least my awareness of the mortal world is clearer when I can use my senses fully.

I can’t see or hear or smell any trace of my companion or the creature we were tracking, though. If Mirage caught the beast, he’d call for me to join him, wouldn’t he?

Turning around, I recognize none of my surroundings. I’m not sure which direction I came from. Every stretch of trees and underbrush looks the same.

How do I get back to the van from here?

I should have laid down a path like that fairy tale with the two children. Shiny stones, not bread crumbles—bread crumbs are only good for the birds.

I walk a little ways in the direction I think will take me back to the clearing where we spotted the creature, but the trees never open up. I’ve only gotten myself more lost.

My arms come up to hug myself. It was important to find that creature. It might help us figure out what’s going on, where the beings like it are coming from. But only if we can return to the others and tell them.

What will Jonah think if he wakes up and I’m still gone? Will Raze be angry? With Hail call me useless?

I hug myself tighter and peer around me again. I should be calm and strong, but the yellowish glow that’s tinting the nearby trunks tells me my hair is glowing with my growing fears.

If Mirage hasn’t caught the creature by now, I’m not sure he will. He really shouldn’t be following it on his own anyway, not after the last one attacked us out of the blue.

Assuming he didn’t simply abandon me.

No. I don’t believe that. I can still feel the comforting pressure of his hand around mine.

I lift my voice to carry. “Mirage? Mirage, where are you? I can’t keep up. Mirage!”

For several beats of my heart, there’s no answer, no sign anything’s heard me. Then a foxy head pops from between two bushes.

Mirage transforms into human-esque as he bounds out. He grasps the sides of my arms. “Are you all right?”

He looks so concerned that my pulse flutters. I want to lean into him, but I’m afraid he’ll pull back rather than gathering me in an embrace.

Instead, I duck my head. “I was too slow, and I don’t know where I am now. I’m sorry.”

Mirage snorts. “Nothing to be sorry about. That shifty being was too quick for me too. Finding its trail was already hard before I heard you calling. Maybe Raze can tomorrow.”

I exhale in relief that he isn’t upset with me, at least. “As long as we can find our way back to them.”

He turns me so we’re facing in the same direction, sliding one hand to tuck around my elbow. “My nose is good enough to follow our trail. I’ll get us back before anyone wails!” He pauses. “If you’ll count on me for that too.”

I beam at him. “Of course. Thank you—for coming, and for leading the way.”

As Mirage smiles back at me, a wash of emotion streams off him like nothing I’ve sensed from the fox shifter before, sweet and warm but poignant, like pork belly drizzled with salted caramel. For once, I know I’ve done something right, even if I’m not entirely sure what it was.