The ride back from Nǣdre Tor is quiet. Even Merlyn, who usually loves to babble or sing nonsense, is silent. She tucks her face into the crook of Eben's shoulder, her big wet eyes contemplating the clear blue sky above them. She watches chickadee’s flit about, listening to their warning calls ring out in the afternoon air; chicka-dee-dee-dee! Chicka-dee-dee-dee!

Adder is listening too. He’s been too afraid to say anything since Eben’s returned with the cart. So even though they are nearly to their home, nobody has spoken a peep. Luckily, Eben finally breaks the silence.

“Adder, you were right…”

Adder blinks in surprise. This is far from what he expected. “You’re not mad about what happened?”

“No. I knew things could go south. I just thought—I thought I could integrate her with human society. But I talked to Helia, and she was right; I was just projecting my desires onto Merlyn. I let my stupid ideas hurt you both again. We’re monsters, real monsters. I need to accept that.”

“You…wanted Merlyn to integrate with humans?”

“I wanted her to stay here. With us,” Eben whispers.

Adder feels his face warm. “I—I want that too. But we can’t, Eben. The villagers would never permit her after today.”

“I know.”

They’re both silent for a moment, letting the heavy words hang in the air. Adder looks to Merlyn, who is still watching birds acrobatically maneuver in the air. Her wing’s tremble, like she’s eager to join them.

“We need to teach Merlyn how to fly.”

Eben looks stricken, but nods solemnly.

In the coming weeks, they try to prepare Merlyn. However, things are unfortunately slow going. Although Merlyn shows much interest in flying, she much prefers for Eben to do all the work with magic. When they try to get her to try without it, well, they get tantrums. Ear-piercing, wailing, tantrums. Right now, they’re suffering through an especially horrible one. They’re in grassy outcropping near their home, the area cleared of obstacles for the lesson. Merlyn is crying, having tossed herself to the ground once again after Eben had tried to force her into a running start.

“I think she needs a break,” Adder yells over the screeching.

“She’s had four breaks, a nap, and several snacks! She needs to get this, Adder!”

Merlyn screams louder, running to Adder with wings outstretched. She hugs Adder and with tears streaming down her face, looks up at him with an especially pathetic expression.

“Oh, Merlyn, it’s okay,” Adder coos, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Adder, for the gods sake, stop coddling her!’

“I’m not coddling her, she’s upset!”

“You are being manipulated by a toddler. Look at her! She’s using puppy eyes! Merlyn, no more breaks. Try again. Now.”

Merlyn gives an enraged screech that turns to sobs, glaring with a red face at Eben. Eben glowers back, the tattoo on his skin writhing rapidly with a red-tinted glow.

“Eben, maybe you need a break…”

Eben opens his mouth to respond, face red and body tense. However, all the tension seeps out of him suddenly. He sinks to the ground, groaning as he flops onto his back, hands raking over his face. Adder slithers over, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“No. Her screams are making my head hurt.”

“Is it magic?”

“Aren’t the screams of all children essentially dark magic, intent on driving all who hear insane?”

Adder huffs, lying on the ground beside Eben. They both look up at the sky—white fluffy clouds drift lazily. Merlyn approaches them warily. Her eyes are wide as she leans over Eben, face creased as she sobs.

“Just one more break, Merlyn. For my sanity,” Eben sighs.

Merlyn crouches. A claw nears Eben’s face—it carefully picks a blade of grass from his hair.

Eben smiles despite the exasperation still creasing his face. “Thank you, little bird.”

Merlyn trills quietly. She lowers herself to the ground, nuzzling her head into the crook of Eben’s arm. All three of them turn their gaze skyward.

“Look, Merlyn. Doesn’t that cloud look like a kitty-cat?”

Merlyn cocks her head, looking at where Eben is pointing. She trills quietly, calming as she studies the cotton-white puffs.

“Has Merlyn seen a cat before?” Adder asks.

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“Well, she’s seen a felid.”

Adder giggles. They’re both quiet again as they watch the wind blow the cloud across the sky. Vaguely, he can make out two pointed ears and a tail. Slowly, the ears conjoin into one fluffy mass as the tail drifts away.

Adder closes his eyes and lets the quiet of the moment sooth his nerves. In the ground, he can sense how alive the forest has become now. He feels the vibrations of two jackalopes warring over a mate, the warm breeze carrying feather-light dandelion seeds, and the tickle of soft grass beneath him. And even distantly, he smells werewolf—he wonders if Daisy is out hunting nearby.

Suddenly, Eben’s quiet voice interrupts the twitter of birds and bugs. “Adder?”

“Yes?”

“Is this hard, or are we just bad at it?”

Adder smiles. “I think nobody is ever prepared to be a parent. I think we’re bad at it and it's hard.”

“Wonderful. Maybe I should convert to worshiping Demeterra. You think Merlyn would sleep through the night if I did that?”

“No, but we could add a space for her on the altar. I hear she’s fond of cheese.”

“Isn’t that cannibalism?”

“Wha—Eben, she has cow ears. Cows make cheese. They aren’t made of cheese.”

“What does cannibalism mean again?”

Adder traces one of Eben’s ears. “It means to eat one of your own. Like if I ate you”

“So you’ve been a spotted forest dwarf this entire time? Or am I a legless lizard?”

“Legless lizard is a low-blow.”

Eben laughs, throwing his arm over his face. Merlyn joins in, twittering gayly.

Adder sits up, slithering over to Merlyn. “You seem in better spirits now. Let's try again?”

Merlyn coos, smiling sunnily now.

“Alright, this time let her run to you,” says Eben.

Adder nods, moving back a few paces.

“Alright, come here Merlyn! Run! Run!”

Merlyn jumps from Eben’s arms and begins to sprint toward Adder. Her wings tremble as her clever clawed feet navigate the flat prairie, causing dandelion puffs to explode in her wake. Finally, as she reaches her destination, Adder picks her up and tosses her into the air.

To his amazement, Merlyn doesn’t sink to the ground like the last time. She opens her wings wide and up, up, up she goes. Adder’s heart goes with her, feeling simultaneously overjoyed, terrified, and sorrowful all in one.

“Merlyn! Not so high! Come back now!”

She’s gliding gracefully, her wings flapping occasionally to stay aloft as she circles the prairie. However, a sudden and uncharacteristically brutal bout of wind disrupts her smooth flight. Adder’s heart goes cold as Merlyn tumbles and is promptly swept off in the direction of the forest.

“Eben!”

Eben’s eyes are already aglow with magic. “I’ve got it! Go after her!”

Swiftly, Adder heads to where Merlyn disappeared behind the treeline. His mind flashes back to that horrible day at the river; but he can hear her this time. She’s crying out above him, her voice rapidly growing in volume as she descends.

Soon, he spots her. She’s glowing as she crashes through several branches, heading for the ground. The magic is keeping her safe and unharmed, but from her heartbreaking cries, it’s clear she’s extremely fearful of the circumstance she’s found herself in.

Mustering as much energy as possible, Adder darts ahead, opening his arms wide. He thanks the Gods as Merlyn tumbles into his embrace with such force his coils ripple rapidly to stabilize himself. He pants heavily as he closes his eyes in relief.

“Gods, oh Gods. You gave me fright, Merlyn.”

Merlyn is crying once more, face buried in Adder’s shoulder. Adder sighs, knowing there’s nothing he can do to soothe her. They will have to try again soon. She might have to endure falling again. With a heavy heart, he heads home. As he approaches the cave though, he’s surprised by the sight of not just Eben, but Kora waiting for him anxiously.

“Is Merlyn okay?” Kora asks pleadingly.

“Kora, where—“

“She was hiding in a tree,” Eben explains, “spying on us. Is Merlyn okay”

“Was not!” Kora whines.

Adder scowls. “She’s fine. But why are you here, Kora? Helia has expressly forbade all villagers from thai place.”

“Merlyn is my friend, you can’t just keep me away!”

Adder is about to demand Kora head back home, but Merlyn sniffles and looks down at Kora from her perch. She wiggles out of Adder’s arms, dropping down to forcefully hug Kora with a sob. She returns the embrace, smoothing out the tot’s wild hair gently.

Adder sags, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Does your father know you’re here?”

“No. But my mother does. She said if Helia wants to tell me who I’m allowed to befriend, she can kiss Morthall’s a—“

“Okay, okay! But you shouldn’t have come alone…the forest is dangerous.”

Kora huffs, rolling her eyes. “Daisy gave me a locket with her fur in it—no basilisk in their right mind would come after a girl who smells of werewolf.”

“You might as well come in for dinner,” Says Eben.

“Yes! Let me stay the night too?”

“Only because I don’t trust a locket to keep you out of the belly of a chimera.”

“Alright. C’mon Merlyn, let’s go inside and color.”

Kora tugs Merlyn ahead on the trail. The little harpy sniffles as she allows herself to be led by the older girl. Adder follows close behind, interlacing his hand with Eben’s.

“She was doing so well, then she just—lost control,” Eben sighs.

“I know. I guess she needs more practice?”

“It’s because she has no tail,” Kora says.

“I—she doesn’t need one…” says Adder.

Kora enters the cave, setting her satchel on the table. She pulls out her crayons and paper before revealing an intricate kite—Adder realizes it's the one she mentioned before, the one modeled after Merlyn. The drawing didn’t do it justice; It has two intricately articulated paper wings and a wide-fanned tail, with delicately painted on-features. Jacqueline even made sure to include the barring of the primaries.

“Mother painted it. But father and I built it.”

Adder sits at the table, eyes wide as he studies the kite. “It’s beautiful, Kora.”

“It flies, too. It goes really high! But I noticed that when I take the tail off, it can’t turn.”

“What do you mean?”

Kora holds the kite up, pointing at the wings. “The wind pushes here, making Merlyn lift into the air. They can make her turn a little bit, but not much. So if there’s a gust of wind or if she turns too much—“ Kora wiggles the small kite, making a woosh sound as she angles it toward the table. Adder clenches his fists as it hits the ancient wood with a thud. Although it's just a kite, he can’t help but think back to their close call today. If he had been a bit slower, would Merlyn faced a similar fate?

“She was turning just fine, she just—she got scared…”

“She got scared because she can’t turn. Look—I’ve been watching birds. When they turn, their tails flip around and fan out. Something is wrong with Merlyn; she's missing a part she needs to fly.”

“Watch what you say. Nothing’s wrong with her. You’ve never even seen a harpy!” Eben says.

“I have, though. Adder has petrified a harpy who attacked the village. Visit the graveyard if you don’t believe me—it has a tail. Merlyn can’t fly without one!”

Adder tenses, remembering the fight. It had been brutal, with there being several times he’d almost lost his life to the fierce creature. But did it have a tail? Surely, he would’ve noticed, right?

“That’s enough,” Adder says. “We’ve had a taxing day. We need to rest.”

Kora, sensing she overstepped, bunches her hands in her dress nervously. “I’m sorry.”

Eben stands from the table, putting the kite back in the satchel—out of sight. “It’s fine, Kora. Come help me prepare supper…”

Dutifully, she rises to follow Eben to the kitchen. Adder stays at the table, listening to Merlyn as she scribbles on her paper, still sniffling.