By the time we get to the cottage, my legs are aching. Kivuli shows me a few more things, like where to hang our soaked cloaks near Squishy, and the bathroom. It's a tiny room between our rooms, and it has a claw-footed bathtub, a chamber pot, and a large window overlooking the hills. One of the walls has shelves with folded towels. It'll be my job to clean them daily. The left wall is covered by a plant.

It's similar to ivy, growing up the wall, spreading all over, with dark green leaves, each one long and oval. Kivuli calls it the Saafa plant. Crushing the oval-shaped leaves produces a gooey juice that you can rub against your skin like soap or body wash. It even works for the hair, and you can mix it with water to create a foamy, creamy lather. And if I don't want to use water, I can just rub it gently over my face and skin to cleanse myself, then use a towel to dry. Which I think is perfect for the days I might want to be lazy.

There's another plant that she keeps in a pot. She brings it out of her bedroom and places it on the windowsill in the hallway. This one's the Toothberry plant, a vibrant, bushy thing. It's got red and blue leaves with white veins, and apparently, you can chew on them until it mixes with your saliva. Then you swish it through your teeth and spit it out. Oh, and it has a bunch of white berries that look like clusters of tiny teeth, and they're deadly poisonous. "Never swallow the leaf juice either," she says. "Always spit it out."

In the kitchen, next to Puddle, who neither of us makes eye contact with, is a small pot of white powder. “It's a cleaning powder,” she explains. “Perfect for cleaning everyday things like dishes and clothes. A pinch is more than enough, but you need water.”

After she'd shown me where she stores the M'geshrooms -it's kept in a cupboard in the kitchen- and warned me to never take too much, she retires to her room and says the bath is all mine if I want it. I'm too tired to do much, so I grab one of the leaves, crush it with my fingers, then rub the ooze over my face.

The fragrance reminds me of lemons, citrusy and sweet, and I gently apply it to my cheeks, my forehead, and my lips. The bottom of my pants is kind of filthy, and I don't really have anything to change into, so I decide I'll wash my clothes and bathe properly tomorrow. Exhaustion throbs behind my eyelids; it's been too long of a day. I rub the grime off my feet and figure that's enough for now.

I chew on a Toothberry leaf as I make use of the chamber pot. The leaf tastes like pickles, and I'm reminded of last night when I met Kivuli. I don't know why, but it makes me smile.

But how has it only been one day?

It's still difficult for me to believe I'm here. I wash my hands with what's left of my Saafa leaf, dry my face and everything with a towel, and then head into my room, ignoring the mirror in the hall.

The view from my window is just as stunning as the view from the bathroom, but I can't help but stare. Moonlight bathes the insides of my room. My bed sheets, white and clean, seem to be glowing, begging me to climb in and fall asleep. I take the flower petal out of my pocket and unbutton my shirt. I slip out of my pants and pause for a moment, leaning against the coolness of the door, holding the crushed petal to my face.

Sighing deeply, I place the dirty clothes on top of my trunk. There's nothing inside, and I figure I'll have to buy clothes from somewhere, but I don't want to put dirty clothes in there. I pause by the window for a moment, biting my lip. The hills look so beautiful, and I spot several silver streaks rushing through them. I can't wait to see the view in the morning with the sun out. I hope it doesn't rain.

Setting the flower petal on the windowsill and feeling surprisingly clean even though I'd only washed my face and my hands and feet, I slide under the white blanket and rest my head on the pillow.

It's so quiet here, almost deafeningly quiet. I didn't have a chance to notice last night during the storm, but without the cars of the city, without the random people shouting on the streets, and without my neighbors watching TV, it's so calm. I can't hear the waves, and there's no wind, so there's only quiet

I shut my eyes and take deep breaths. There's no pressure behind my ears. No spiraling, spinning anxiety. It's almost like my thoughts are adjusting, relaxing. Maybe it's okay to rest. To feel alright. To feel safe.

It takes me a while to fall asleep. I'm not sure. Maybe a few minutes, maybe half an hour, but my mind fades away breath by breath. I'd walked so much, my legs hurt so much, it's almost like they weren't a part of me anymore. I think about how I'd hugged Rory. I think about Isabelle again, and the flower petal. I think about heading into town tomorrow.

A part of me wants to get up and jot everything into my notebook, all the things I'd learned today about spirits, about my powers, about being a Shaman and Mayor. But my eyelids are too heavy now. My breaths are too deep. I turn to my side, my hand between my knees, and I fall asleep.

I dream I'm falling from the sky again. An aurora stretches around me like a scarf in the wind, a river of color. I spread my arms. It's nighttime, and I'm falling over the hills. I can see the lighthouse, the light at its tip shines like the sun. The cottage huddles by its side on the cliff. The grassy hills ripple. All of a sudden, the grass is in my face, and I land with a splash.

I'm not human; I'm Squishy. I'm an Ember Slime. The grass catches fire. The night sky shimmers, and a howling wind spreads the flames every which way until it feels like the entire world is on fire. I try to scream, but my slime mouth can't.

There’s a figure approaching me, a silhouette through the flames. A girl. Her brown face glistening with sweat, her dress burning. It's Isabelle!

She seems determined to reach me; she looks like she's in pain, and I wonder if that’s because her powers have to do with plants. The fire must be agony; why is she trying so hard to get to me? She's holding a basket full of peaches, one arm raised against the searing heat, her clothes burning away.

Save me, I want to scream. Stop me!

But hands pick me up. Someone else had come up behind me, and they're squeezing me. It's the same sensation as when Kivuli wrung me out, except I'm not gushing water. My flames spill through their fingers, and I move my eyes through my body to find the person holding me is Mia.

There's a wicked grin on her face. Her overalls burn, but she doesn't seem to mind. The wind makes her blonde hair bounce, and she clamps both hands onto my body, squeezing me into a tiny little ball. Then she brings me to her mouth. Her teeth glisten. All I can do is squirm helplessly as she places me on her tongue, as though I’m a piece of candy. She’s salivating so much, steam sizzles around my body. I try to wriggle out, but her lips close shut, enveloping me in darkness as I’m forced down her throat. Mia swallows me whole.

Crying out, I shudder awake. I grab my face. My chest, my legs. I'm human.

I'm human. I hadn't turned into a slime and burned down my bed or the cottage. But the sheets are damp with sweat. My hair sticks to me, and I hug myself, shivering in my cold room. The sky is darker, and I think it might be raining again. How long was I asleep? What time is it? I can't even see the map hanging over my bed.

As if to answer my question, something slams into the front door of the cottage, and I flinch. I grab the sheets and curl my fingers into fists. The Wraith bangs over and over. Each time, even though I know it can't get inside, I picture the door bursting off the hinges.

“I can smell you,” it whispers. “Be a darling and let me inside tonight?”

I bite my lip and hold my breath. It's quieter than last night, its voice faded like the end of an echo, but it reaches me even though I'm upstairs and down the hall. It's almost like the creature is in bed with me, whispering in my ear.

"You're delicious," it says. "That's why they keep sniffing you. That pathetic bear. The bastard boy. He wants you; I know you can tell."

I shake my head, an involuntary shudder running up my spine. My teeth hurt, and I force myself to relax my jaw.

"I know you want me too." The voice changes to Rohan's, deep and full of his cocksure attitude. "I thought I'd stop by and say hello again. Is it alright if I come inside?"

"Go away." I pull the blanket over my head and curl into a little ball. "Go away."

"It's so chilly out here, and I lost my pants in my swim. Can I come up? Your bed's probably so warm and nice..."

I can picture Roshan's muscular form. Those broad shoulders, the abs. I can't help but wonder about his hands, can't help but picture him in my tiny bed, taking up all the space, holding me... No. I'm picturing myself as Roshan, lying in bed, all confident and huge. I shake my head again. It's just the Wraith messing with me.

Its voice shifts. This time it's Bluebell asking if I liked the wagon. If he can come inside. After all, he'd welcomed me to his place. Isn't it only fair? The voice is so jovial, so friendly, and I really do want to see Bluebell again and thank him properly for his kindness.

That's what the stupid Wraith's picking up on, isn't it? My fears and my desires. I try to even my breathing. As long as I don't open the door, it can't do anything to me. These are just words. I can learn from this. I can understand what it is.

My heart skips a beat when I hear Mia's voice. "I'm sorry for harassing you before," she says, her voice husky. Needy. "I was mistaken."

I can just about picture her emerald eyes, but I can't ever see her apologizing for anything, so I know that's not her. She says she'd lost her overalls, and it's cold and windy outside. It's raining. She wants to borrow my clothes. She wants to sleep over.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Yeah, right.

Her voice grows angry as I don't respond. "You stupid slut!" she says, pounding on the door. "You're curled up with that hag, aren't you? Her little puppet. Has she worn you out yet?"

I remember the horrible things Mia had said about Kivuli. And I still hate it. Shut up.

"Don't you want to know more about Kivuli?" asks another voice. A girl's, but I don't recognize her. "I can tell you. It's me, Anri. I was the apprentice before you. Just open the door, and I'll tell you all of Kivuli's filthy secrets. Everything you need to know about being a perfect Shaman."

Closing my eyes, I try to fall back asleep. I'd fallen asleep last night too in the middle of it berating me. Why can't I do that again?

"Precious girl," it whispers, dropping Anri's voice. It's Kivuli's now. "Delicious girl, don't you want to know why I've invited you into my home? Let me suck on your toe bones. I'll tell you everything for your toes. Nothing else. I swear it. Maybe your ankle. Just one ankle."

Then it's Rohan again, furious. The Wraith barks at me. "Ugly little wench. Who'd ever want to fuck you? If you don't let me in right this minute, I'll tell my father to cut Rory loose. I'll feed the boy to the elves. Let me in!"

And then it's the worst one yet. I hear Rory, sniffling. He knocks weakly on the door. "You pointy promised," he says. "You said I could visit whenever he hurt me again. Please, can I come inside?"

He's crying, and my foot twitches. I almost get out of bed. I almost rush downstairs and bring him inside where I know he'll be safe.

That's just not fair. Tears run down my cheeks as I hug myself, squeezing my sides. The voice changes over and over, switching back and forth as though the Wraith can't decide which voice torments me the most. The knocking grows incessantly until I hear Jia's voice. "I'm coming inside, Samiya," she says, softly.

I swear I hear the door open. I swear I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Down the hall, heavy, making the floorboards creak. Something hammers in the room next door, the forbidden room. Something's hammering on my walls! My window rattles. And then it's my door. The handle shakes. It's not locked. It'll come inside! I almost scream, but I don't. I lay in bed, heart pounding, too petrified to move.

"Please," she says, and her voice fades away. The door didn’t open. It’s all in my head.

I get off my bed, the blanket falling away. It's raining outside, not as hard as before, but enough to cover the window with wetness and blanket the hills in darkness. I hold my breath. It's chilly in my room, and I'm not dressed. My heart thuds. I walk over to the window, propping my knees on my trunk and pressing my forehead to the glass. Could I see the Wraith from here?

Do I even want to see what it looks like? But I can't help but wonder if it's taken Jia's form too, if I can see her again.

Whether mercifully or not, the plant growth on the slanted roof of the cottage obstructs my view, and I can't see what's standing on the doorstep, thrashing against the door. Somehow, that eases the tension coiling in my guts, and my shoulders slump. My breathing eases even as the Wraith borrows my mother's voice. Even as Jia begs me to let her inside.

“I've fallen into this world too! I want to see you again.”

Nice try, I think, picking up the flower petal and inhaling its sweet aroma. It's fading away, but it comforts me, distracting me from the nightmare of voices. Then I grab my notebook. The windowsill is cold against my bare bottom, and I plant my feet on the clothing trunk, but I open to a new page and write another headline. The Wraith. I underline it twice.

I'm not sure what exactly to put here, and I wonder if Kivuli has a book about it downstairs, so I just write down what I realized.

The Wraith is a reflection of my worst impulses. My fantasies and fears. I think it's drawing on sexual things? My attraction to the people I've met today. Namely Mia, Roshan, and... I hesitated after writing Isabelle. Oddly enough, the Wraith never tried using her voice on me. I cross out her name and leave a question mark over her name.

It's using my desires to get me to open the door. It's trying to trick me. And I think it comes late at night so that people aren't sure if they're dreaming. Can't tell what's real or not. Usually, when I wake up like this, I'm either really horny or really upset, so I guess this is the best time to mess with my head. I wonder if it's like this for most people.

I wonder what it looks like.

It's still knocking, but I've managed to tune it out. Just whispers echoing in the back of my mind. I drape my blanket around me and head to the kitchen, sleep tugging at my eyes again. I’m thirsty. In the hallway, my reflections seem to come alive. Dark clouds and fog conceal the view from the windows, but there's enough light for my reflections to stare at me. The forbidden room rattles, or at least I think it does. That might just be the thudding from downstairs shaking the floor. Can’t Kivuli hear this? Her room is closed shut. I wonder if she’s awake.

I wonder what it says to her. Why can’t she get rid of it?

“I'm not afraid,” I whisper softly as I near the kitchen and the stairs. Puddle's sitting on the shelf over the sink, its blue glow illuminating the entire space. But it's dimmer now, and unlike Squishy's emanating heat, Puddle's light is cool and refreshing.

"Hello," I say, as the knocking goes on downstairs.

Puddle's eyes follow me, and I blush, remembering how I'd felt when I'd turned into the Dewdrop Slime.

"Do you want me to... squeeze you?" I figure the rain is driving the poor thing crazy again.

Its eyes squiggle, and I take that as a yes. I find one of the metal cups and carefully grab Puddle, holding it over the cup. For some reason, even though I know what’ll happen, I hold my breath as I squeeze.

The slime mind inside me responds with a shudder as water gushes into the sink. It feels like squeezing a big, gooey stress ball, and it feels rather good to squeeze. The cup fills and overflows, and the excess goes down the drain. The sink’s not attached to any pipes or anything, so it must be magic like the chamber pots.

But once I’ve drank water, my face heating thinking about how I’d gotten this water, I raise Puddle so I can look it in the eyes. “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you? You’re not bothered at all by the Wraith downstairs.”

Its mouth squiggles with joy, and I rub my nose against its cool, gelatinous form. It's like a cold compress.

"Will you keep me company?"

Puddle rubs against my palm. I’ll take that as a yes. When we step out of the kitchen, the mirror makes me stop. Puddle’s light casts a blue glow on my face and reveals my tiny, naked form with the white blanket draped over my shoulders. I might've been a ghost. My reflection’s eyes don't feel like my own, they seem to be shining, and I have the eerie sensation that I'm being watched. The Wraith slams hard against the door, and I almost scream, panic surging through me so badly that I rush back to my room, keeping my eyes only on Puddle.

Once inside, I shut the door and climb back into bed. "Don't get wet," I whisper to Puddle as I curl up with it pressed to my overheated chest. It feels so cool and nice against my skin, and I clutch it tight, remembering something Jia used to do for me.

On summer nights, when things were too hot and I had difficulty breathing, she'd wrap frozen water bottles in a paper towel and place them beside me. The coolness would soothe my lungs and calm my body and I'd manage to fall asleep. Holding Puddle, the effect is very much the same, and my mind drifts away again. The horrible knocking and whispering fade to nothing. I'm just breathing. I'm cooling down. I fall asleep.

This time, I dream I'm standing on the cliff. The lighthouse is gone. There's no cottage, just the sprawling hills behind me. I'm alone with only the blanket wrapped around me.

I walk to the edge and sit, staring at the ocean below. Waves curl upward like they're reaching for me, but they all break halfway up the cliff face. My feet dangle. The height doesn’t bother me. The sun's shining brightly overhead, and then the wind stirs my hair again.

A chill runs down my spine. It's not the wind; someone's fingers are in my hair. Gentle fingers that move through my thinning strands in familiar motions.

"It's alright," whispers a voice. "I'm just braiding it, okay?"

Tears fill my eyes and run down my cheeks. My lips wobble, and I feel my throat closing. "I miss you so much."

"I know, Samiya. I know. I'm right here."

She touches the side of my face, and I turn my cheek toward her palm, and I wake up.

For a second, I think I can feel Jia's hand on my cheek, but it's just sunlight streaming through my window. Puddle sits on my chest. It smells like rain, the heavy scent right before a storm. "You're so cute," I whisper. "Thank you for not wetting my bed."

I lay there for a while as the slime snoozes, jiggling softly from the rise and fall of my chest. The sunlight moves down my face, and I think about the dream. My mouth feels clean, as though I've already brushed my teeth, and the taste of pickles lingers on my tongue. I love that plant. It makes dental hygiene so much easier, and if I'd had it in my old life, I don't think I'd ever have missed a day of cleaning my teeth.

I might've dozed off again, but once the haze of comfortable sleep wears off, I manage to get up. Inhaling deeply, and holding Puddle, I get out of bed and look out the window. The glass is warm with sunlight, and the green hills bring a smile to my face. The Wraith and the dark storm seem like a distant memory. It's still remarkable how beautiful this place is, and I think about the wooded area we walked through last night.

Trying to connect things in my head, I study the map hanging over my bed. Sunlight rests across its face like a pool of golden light. The mountains seem to come alive. The forests. I swear I can see their branches moving. I follow the road leading away from the well with my eyes, trying to discern which paths we'd taken through the central woods to get to the farmlands, but it's one thing to stare at a top-down view of the land.

How did Kivuli know where we should turn and which road to take? How did Rory make it here and back since he'd mentioned it was his first time away from home?

Maybe unicorns have a built-in navigating system? Some kind of instinct? I search for the unicorn mind that's in my head somewhere, but I can't access it. The slime minds are eager to bubble up to the surface, but I push them down for now.

Taking a breath and stepping away from the window, I try to do some stretches. There are bird calls outside, and I wonder where Kivuli is. I try twisting my body side to side. My spine cracks in several places, and I sigh with pleasure. The sun feels so good on my bare skin, and having Puddle on my head is refreshingly cool. For the first time in a long time, I feel well-rested.

I need to ask Kivuli how she tells time because I have no idea how long I'd slept in. My legs don't hurt as much, and I try another stretch, bending forward to reach for my toes.

My fingers barely make it past my knees, and I grimace. My body protests, but I hold it for as long as I can, breathing deeply, enjoying being in my own space. Puddle slides off my head, and I catch the blue slime in my hands before straightening up. Its mouth squiggles as I hold it in the sunlight, and its body shimmers, casting a golden and blueish-green glow. It seems to like the warmth, and I set it down on the windowsill and decide I should put on some clothes and find Kivuli.

Licking my teeth, I turn away to find a piece of paper wedged beneath my door. Did Kivuli leave me a note or something?

It's parchment. Folded neatly in half, and written across it in beautiful handwriting, with lots of loops and flourishes, is a letter:

> Dear Madam Mayor,

>

> I'd come by your room last night wishing to thank you in person for procuring a replacement chair. Alas, you were asleep, and I didn't wish to disturb you.

>

> The chair is perfection, and I trust you will extend my gratitude to Master Bluebell when next you visit him.

>

> Madam Kivuli tells me you wish to learn more about Spirits. If you'd like to join me tomorrow morning, shortly before sunrise, we can sit by the Ember Slime and discuss everything you'd like to know. I can provide you with a copy of my notes as well. We could walk along the beach should the weather permit.

>

> But I must admit I have an ulterior motive. I'm told you are a very special young miss indeed. Our new Apprentice Shaman. The new Mayor of Blossom Water. As well as having come from another world. I want to know everything about this world. I'm further fascinated by your interpretation of mayoral duties and wish to discuss these matters with you in great detail. Perhaps I'll write another book!

>

>

>

> Mystified by your presence,

>

> Cpt. Sulliver D. Rhinestone

My eyes go wide as I read it over a second time, the note trembling in my hands as I carry it over to Puddle. "I think I have a date with a ghost."