Now that he wasn’t blinded by the rushing air, Brendan marveled at how, despite looking like a cat version of the Incredible Hulk, June could move so gracefully. She could easily sprint on the ground through the forest at speeds that seemed impossible, then, suddenly, she was up in the trees and jumping from trunk-to-trunk. Yet Brendan was never hit by anything except rushing air—when she pushed branches aside, they moved past them so fast the branches whipped back only after they were already gone.

And as June soared through the air, a sudden impulse hit him. What if? Just for a second? It would feel like he was flying. Like he was the one with powers.

Straining his legs around June’s back, he let go of her neck and stretched his arms wide. For the blink of an eye, he was flying! But his legs barely gripped June, and before he could bring his arms back down, he was no longer flying.

He was falling.

He saw June stiffen, but she was moving forward, and the air was pushing Brendan backward, and there was nothing he could do.

“JUNE!” he managed to scream before fear grabbed his throat and strangled him, and if he made any more noises, they were involuntary.

He looked down. Sharp, pointy little trees raced toward him, any of which could spell his doom. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark blur.

He waited for his life to flash before his eyes, but nothing came. He was faintly aware of the urge to pee. The shape grew larger in his peripheral vision, and then a furry brick wall hit him and he couldn’t tell in what direction he was moving, but it wasn’t down. He realized June had caught him and wrapped her arms around him just as they exploded against something and the world spun.

He felt June curl her body around him as they smashed through more things that made splintering noises. Then they hit something that caused June’s body to shudder and they started rolling. And rolling. All Brendan could see, barely, was dark spinning ground, which never touched him.

After what felt like minutes, they stopped rolling, June’s arms around him collapsed, and she didn’t move.

Brendan crawled off her and gently started to shake her. “June! June are you okay? I’m so sorry June! June! Wake up! Please wake up!”

Her body started shaking. Was she having a seizure? Was she struggling to breathe? Then he heard a familiar noise. It started faintly, then steadily grew in volume. It matched the rhythm of June’s shaking. It was deep, and thundering. Was she laughing?

She finally opened her glowing yellow eyes and lifted her massive head.

“Scooby Doo,” she managed to get out between heaves of laughter. At length, she gained control and stopped shaking. “How did you fall? Did a branch hit you?” As she started to get up, she winced. She rubbed what Brendan assumed was a rib. “I should have stuck the landing better.”

Brendan stared at her, dumbfounded. “But I almost—you almost—and you’re laughing?” He had never felt confusion, panic, and shame collide so violently in his brain before. How could she be laughing? He had nearly killed them with his stupidity.

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“Yes, I’m laughing. I can’t get over the goggles.” She rubbed under her eye like she was wiping away a tear; it was too dark for Brendan to be sure if there were actually tears. “I’m sorry,” she continued, “I shouldn’t have been going so fast. I must have missed something that knocked you off.”

His ears burned with guilt. Nothing had knocked him off except his own foolishness. “Oh, uh, don’t worry about it.” He looked down at the ground, away from eye contact with June. How could he tell her, No, I wanted to pretend I was flying, so I let go and nearly got us both killed?

“We’re close enough now,” she said, “let’s just walk the rest of the way and take it easy.”

“Okay.” Brendan started walking in the direction he thought was the right way. June had stopped rolling near the bottom of a gradual hill; the incline in the ground had probably been what stopped their rolling. Leaves covered the ground, and skinny trees clung together higher up, their spreading branches blocking out most—but not all—of the moonlight. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and pulled up the hood; the air had gotten colder. Nearby, Brendan could make out the trail of destruction June had created while they rolled: chunks of trees—gigantic chunks of trees—smashed into the dirt, plants and bushes laying flattened like a hurricane had hit the area, violent grooves in the earth.

“Wrong way,” June called out. “I know it’s dark. You can still ride on my back or hold onto me if you want.”

Brendan’s stomach did a bad somersault. He couldn’t even walk in the right direction. I’m not her partner, he thought. I’m her bumbling sidekick. He turned, thankful for the hood of his cloak, which hopefully hid his blushing. “I mean, sure, I can hold onto your, er, side while we walk.”

She stayed on all fours, and with his left hand on June’s steel barrel of a shoulder, they curved left, along the base of the hill, following its winding path. Brendan stayed quiet, and for a few minutes they walked in silence. Nothing much grew in the area where the hill met flat ground, though June had to lead him around a few obstacles that would have made him pay dearly if she wasn’t there to guide him: a thicket of something pointy, something that looked like a bush with a bad haircut that came up to his chest.

“Cordelia lied to me about Richard too,” June said eventually. “He didn’t abandon us. She made him leave, then she lied to me about it my entire life.”

One of the great mysteries of the universe was how June could end up so amazing when her mom was so horrible. Of course, he couldn’t say that to June. She always defended Cordelia. But the way Cordelia treated June—it was like she was a drill sergeant, not a mom. And she was terrifying, even more so now that he knew she could fly around silently and swoop down on him if she decided she didn’t want him in June’s life. He’d be gone in an instant—a flash of feathers and scaly feet and claws in his vision and then lights out.

“I’m sorry. That’s pretty messed up,” was all he could think to safely reply.

“Yeah. I might try to contact Richard—I mean my dad—now. Maybe even go stay with him for a while.”

Brendan froze mid-step and his hand slipped off June’s shoulder. “For how long?” His voice cracked. “Just a few days right, not like weeks or months or anything, right?”

June turned to face him. The moonlight made her yellow eyes look like they were twinkling. “Not long, just a few days. I don’t know him; it would get weird pretty quick if I stayed any longer. Anyway, I bet he’s no match for me in chess. But then again, neither are you.” One side of her mouth twisted and revealed a fang that Brendan was certain rivaled the size of a traffic cone. What a smirk.

He snorted. “Does Shifting also allow you to enter into alternate dimensions where that statement is true, June? You know I always win.”

She started toward a slope dipping between two rows of trees, towering like skyscrapers and swallowing the moonlight high overhead. But she paused at the entrance to the wall of darkness. Her eyes remained on him and sparkled. “It’s dark ahead. Are you going to hold on to my shoulder again or are you waiting to grab my tail?”

His mouth dropped open, but he did manage—by some miracle—to stop himself from stuttering. Did she know what she was saying? Her tail was technically part of—no, she probably didn’t mean it like that. He rushed forward and grabbed her shoulder and resigned himself to having constantly-red cheeks for the foreseeable future. And he swore to himself he wouldn’t mess up again, he would be a partner and not a bumbling sidekick for June.