Juno’s wagon bumped along the path that just an hour ago transitioned from dirt to stone. I thought I’d hate the jarring bumps and noises of wagon wheels, but in truth, I found them soothing.
Starlings flew overhead, clustered together like a cloud dancing between this tree and that scattered across large fields. I just smiled and watched, taking in the smell of the countryside. It felt. . . a little like home.
Bartlesville was the biggest town in the county, but it was still small and sat in the middle of the countryside, which I loved. Sometimes, when my mind could briefly forget that I was deeply unhappy, I’d go for long walks through the nearby fields. I’d often bump into wild turkeys or deer or take a few minutes to lean against a tree and watch the clouds above drift lazily by.
I was glad to see that I’d been reincarnated in a land like this instead of some giant dystopian futuristic hellscape. My thoughts wandered back to the fictional realm of Fangamus where an android rebellion shattered the city’s landscape. As I pictured the city, my mind wandered back to the soft and haunting electric hums of rhea_born that told the story.
Somehow I doubt electronic music exists here, I thought, scratching one of my ears. I resumed listening to the wagon wheels on the road below me, feeling the occasional jolt of the buckboard as Svenoldson pulled us along toward Kylson.
It was nice that Juno and I had already learned to settle into silence with each other. Recognizing that I was going to be on the road all the time now, I knew there would be moments when it was just nice to vibe in quiet. I tried not to think on what that meant for the small inkling of unidentified feelings about the messenger growing in my brain. It was probably just gratitude. Yeah, that was it. She’d welcomed me into her life so easily, giving me clothes and food. It was just gratitude. Had to be.
My mother used to joke that I’d follow anyone who fed me regularly. That’s how she got my father to marry her back in ‘73, she’d chuckle, telling the story.
They were good to me. I wasn’t sure how they would’ve responded to me confessing that I’m strangely happy to be a girl now if they were still around. The Bunny Goddess thing would probably be more difficult for them to take given their particular religious habits. But maybe they would have come around.
“So. . . how long have you been praying to Opha for a Luck Bunny?” I asked, out of nowhere.
Juno smiled but kept her eyes on the road.
“A few years now. My life’s had more downs than ups, and I got tired of failing to fix it by myself. So, I figured divine intervention would help,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow.
“More downs than ups? You lost that many socks while washing your clothes, huh?”
Keeping her breathing even, Juno didn’t respond for a moment, and my heart sputtered.
“Not socks,” she said. “Oh, hey! That’s the gate for Kylson up ahead. See that massive white and red flag? We’re almost there.”
I looked up the road and spotted a large stone gate coming into view. Above the gate, a flag big enough to cover a baseball field blew in the breeze. As Juno said, it was painted with red and white bars with what appeared to be a lantern in the center.
“Is that a lantern?” I asked, covering my eyes.
Juno nodded.
“Kylson’s biggest export is glasswork. And the vast majority of it goes into lanterns. Big ones. Small ones. Some are as tall as a doorframe. The artists here are something else,” my companion said.
“Why glasswork?” I asked. “How does a city even get started making that its chief export?”
“Well, the city sits on the southern shore of a massive lake. And the lakebed is covered in precious metals of some sort or another. They wash ashore and mix with the sand making it unique for glasswork. I’ve delivered a few smaller artworks from glassworkers who had pieces to ship to their patrons. And they love to talk about their craft.”
Juno’s strained breathing from earlier was gone, so either she was in a better mood, or the messenger had gotten whatever she was feeling tamped down.
We eventually made our way to the gate, which was wide enough for two wagons to sit side-by-side.
A few city guards stood around, chatting. One or two held papers and checked wagons going into the city ahead of us.
Seeing Juno dress the way she did was one thing. That was a lone individual I met in the middle of the night. But these folks were walking around in honest-to-god leather armor with swords hanging from their hips and shields hanging from their backs. Each round wooden shield bore a painted lantern in the center, same colors as the flag.
I really am in another time, I thought, feeling a bit like Wishbone when he wound up in King Arthur’s court.
A different guard stepped out of the gate, and I spotted a people-sized owl walking around on two legs (wait, they always did that), brown and white fathers ruffled a bit under their armor. Sharp yellow eyes looked over our wagon and then me. Those eyes widened as the hootwing noticed me and started to approach.
“Ho! Is that Juno I see? Been a few months since you were last through here, huh?” the hootwing called, their talons clicking on the cobblestone beneath us. Their voice was surprisingly loud and booming for such a wiry-looking fellow.
“Hey there, Bilo. It’s good to see you again. And no, I was here just a few weeks ago! You must have still been on your honeymoon,” Juno said, reaching behind her and pulling around a leather satchel with a long strap.
She brought Svenoldson to a halt and dug for papers.
“How’s your new husband doing? Finally get the nest all settled?” my companion asked.
Bilo managed to find a soft smile beneath their yellow beak.
“Garyl is keeping the nest nice and orderly. It didn’t take long for him to get me trained, haha! No coats on the floor. No blades on the dining room table. No armor in the bedroom. But truth be told, I wouldn’t trade him for the world. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I smiled listening to their exchange. From the way Juno and Bilo looked at each other, I could tell they went way back. I guess when you traveled frequently to places, you got to know regulars. God knows I did on my mail route back home.
When you brought letters to people, in a sense, you became part of the conversation between them and their loved ones. This remained true even though I didn’t pen the letter or sign the card. But by handing it off, I was part of the conversation. I didn’t insert myself into their lives, but I adored the bridge I helped construct just the same, an invisible carpenter of sorts in their correspondence.
Juno found a document declaring her goods and handed it over to Bilo, who halfheartedly examined it. I watched their sharp eyes scan between the lines, nodding before they gave official approval.
“Light load, huh? Small paint set for an artist on John Street, sealed diplomatic dispatch for Governess Lynn, a basket of imported Eastern fruits for a baker, five letters, and a box of enchanted threads for a tailor on the south edge of the city. Seems like you were carrying twice that last I saw you, ah? Unless your new companion makes up for the lighter volume. Who is she?” Bilo asked, reaching into a leather pouch tied to their waist opposite their sword.
I was shocked to see that while Bilo’s arms and legs were covered in feathers like any other owl from my world (though much larger), they still had hands with five fingers just like me and Juno. Albeit, smaller, nimbler hands.
My brain considered their words a minute later.
She, I thought. Bilo called me she.
It was one thing for Juno to call me a woman. But all sorts of bells and whistles in my brain started to chime when I realized this complete stranger thought the same of me. An awkward giddiness brought a smile to my snout that I couldn’t readily chase away. I felt my fingers buzzing again, so I held them tight to my lap.
“Oh, Tilda? She’s my helper. I’m gonna get her signed up with the Messenger Guild while I’m in town. Probably tomorrow so I can get all this stuff delivered today,” Juno said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Gooseflesh broke out on my arms, even if you couldn’t see it under my soft tan fur. That was a normal reaction. Probably just more. . . what was a good word for it? “Joy” seemed too generic. “High” didn’t quite match my lack of drugs. It was sort of in the same vein as nostalgia, but not quite that. Ah! Euphoria. I felt euphoric when I wore Juno’s dress. And I felt euphoric when Bilo called me “she.” So Juno’s touch eliciting this reaction was just more of that, right? Of course. No other explanation needed.
Am I thinking too fast? I thought. No, wait, that’s not possible. Unless, because I’m a Bunny Goddess, my thoughts are now stupendously quick.
Bilo’s words brought me out of my thoughts, which were apparently moving at fiber-optic speed.
“It’s about time you found yourself a helper. You know, I worry about you being out on the road by yourself for so long.”
Juno rolled her eyes.
“Your concern is touching, Bilo, truly. Are we all in order? I’ve gotta get this shipment into the city.”
The hootwing chuckled and asked, “Will your work keep you too busy to drink with me and Garyl tonight? Or can we find you and Tilda at the Singing Swan?”
They pulled out a stamp from their pouch, but no ink. I raised an eyebrow and did not lower it one fraction of an inch as the guard raised it to their mouth and whispered, “Approved.” Red runes around the stamp’s base sizzled to life. My nose twitched as a soft burning scent penetrated the widening nostrils. And then, Bilo stamped the bottom of the manifest with a bit of smoke rising from the paper. As they pulled it away, a tiny lantern had been burned into the parchment with the day’s date. Skysong 13th of the Sixth Age, I read.
My name! Not the one on my birth certificate (did they even have those here?) but the one I’d stolen. They used it like it was nothing.
How do they not see how incredible that is? I thought. They’re treating my name as any other part of a mundane exchange.
As my fingers buzzed all the more with excitement, I looked over at some of the other guards and watched them examine the wagon behind us driven by a shellback wrapped in a long black cloak. Her green scales and red eyes were a striking combination. She didn’t appear to be in as jovial a mood as Juno was with her friend.
“Yes, yes. I imagine that’s where we’ll stay tonight given that the Messenger Guild members get a pretty hefty discount.”
Bilo stepped back and waved us through the gate, large iron bars suspended about 15 feet above our heads.
My companion clicked her tongue, and Svenoldson started moving forward slowly into the city.
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“Oh! Juno, I almost forgot to tell you,” Bilo said, jogging back to us and walking alongside the wagon. “You won’t get that dispatch to Governess Lynn today. Same-day appointments with her are kind of hard to come by right now. So I’d plan on giving it to her tomorrow, and even then, that’s only if you’re fortunate enough to catch her Secretary of Speech before sundown.”
“Is her Secretary of Speech still that old dude with the long braided beard?”
Bilo shook their feathered head.
“No. He retired last week. I haven’t met her new hire yet, but I know his name is Gat Pentacost. He’s the son of a prominent banker in the city. Supposed to be nice enough, but few of the City Guard have seen him out and about.”
Rubbing her chin as we passed a carriage pulled off to the side, Juno thought for a moment.
“Okay, I’ll head over to the Governance Hall first thing. Thanks for the warning.”
As Bilo turned to leave, a wave of magic rose from within, and I found them nearly frozen, slowly stepping away from the wagon in minuscule measurements. My eyes widened, and I gasped.
Around me, noise distorted, like a radio that only picked up every other second of a song. Those starlings from earlier hung nearly suspended in the sky just outside the gate. Raising my eyes to the humongous flag, I found it billowing so slowly that I could nary detect a single fold of its cloth.
Even the air entering and leaving my lungs had a lazy momentum to it.
Turning, I found a familiar set of strings tied around Bilo, one red, one green. The threads moved like waves around their body. A pulse or an echo drew my fingers to the colored yarns of fate. No, not quite fate. That wasn’t my domain. It was the demesne of my patron, Opha, Third Goddess of Fate. Luck was my domain. It was a subset of fate. I didn’t know how I understood all this, just that I did.
I lightly grasped the red string first, and the same jolt as last night raced down my arm, static electricity on steroids. In this vision, Bilo was no longer standing beside our wagon. They were peering under the tarp of the shellback’s wagon behind us. And I heard a loud “hoot!” of pain as they did so.
Standing on the strangely firm buckboard, I looked back in horror to see a viper sinking its fangs into the flesh around Bilo’s beak. They fell backward onto the cobblestone yelling as blood started to drip down their chin.
Startled and feeling light-headed, I let go of the red string, finding Bilo before me once more, mid-walk and facing away from Juno.
Taking a breath and trying to slow my heart rate, I swallowed nervously. After that, I closed my eyes and took a few steadying breaths. Gods. This was too much for me. Or it was supposed to be, right? Except, no. I was a goddess now, even if, in terms of power scale, I was more like Opha’s demigoddess. But Bunny Demigoddess didn’t roll off the tongue as easily.
“Shit,” I hissed.
Shaking my little rabbit head, I dared to reach toward the green thread, unable to stop myself. Even if the unlucky vision had been jarring, the feeling of folding back these happenings just enough to get a tiny peek was strangely addictive.
The green string showed me a vision of Bilo about to raise the tarp and then squinting. In their scrunched face, I saw hesitation. When they removed their hand from the tarp, a sharp hiss sounded off before something underneath bumped the covering where the hootwing’s fingers had previously been.
Stepping back in shock, Bilo placed a hand over their chest and took a nervous breath.
“Damn, Ms. Martha. You weren’t kidding about your wares. I feel sorry for the pet owners who are going to buy these things,” Bilo huffed in the vision.
Ms. Martha snapped at him before moving her cart forward, saying, “Fortunately, the customers I’m delivering these beautiful creatures to know how to avoid agitating them!”
I let go of the string and resumed sitting on the buckboard with time still largely suspended around me.
As I cleared my throat, I felt the liquid chronology around me slide through my fingers without an ounce of control. And suddenly, Bilo was walking back toward the wagon behind us.
I stood at once.
“Bilo!” I called.
They turned and stared at me, surprised by my outburst. Shrugging and walking back a second time, the hootwing raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, Ms. Tilda? Is everything okay?”
If I could sweat at that moment, I would’ve been. My fur would be damp. As my heart rattled in my chest, I tried to choose my words carefully.
“Whatever you do, don’t lift the tarp on the wagon behind us.”
Confusion erupted on their face, and I saw a familiar scrunch aimed at me, just like in the vision.
“What are you talking about?” they asked.
“Just. . . if you value your beak, don’t do it,” I said, holding my breath and trying to look calm. I think I failed at that last goal.
Bilo exchanged a glance with Juno, and the guards around us who had paused to stare were now getting back to work.
Juno just smiled, placed a hand on Bilo’s shoulder, and whispered,” She’s my Luck Bunny bestowed upon me by the Fate Goddess, Opha. Trust me, Tilda’s already proven to be the real thing. I’d just do as she says if I were you.”
The hootwing slowly nodded but didn’t appear to be any less confused.
“I want to hear more about her tonight,” Bilo said. “A Luck Bunny. . . gods above, who’d have guessed?”
We left Bilo behind and entered Kylson, which contained two gates, I learned. The Regina Gate and the Svardo Gate, both named after past beloved governors. As Juno informed me a bit more about the city, I turned to her and asked, “You both threw around the name Governess Lynn. Who is she?”
Stretching one arm out wide until her elbow popped, Juno led her daisy moose up a mild slope and past several butcher shops. The smell of several meats nearby, both raw and cooking left me instantly nauseous. I fought my guts as I leaned over the buckboard side, seriously concerned I was going to hurl in the street.
It was then I felt a cloth lightly pressed to my face, and the pleasant scent of citrus filled my nostrils. Suddenly, all the butcher odors were pushed outside of an impregnable gate surrounding my septum.
Beside us, the butcher shops stood with smoke billowing from narrow tin chimneys. Most of the stores were made from brick and covered with shingled rooftops. I watched a stout woman with a cleaver shopping up what looked like mutton through a window we passed. She pulled back the blade and slammed it down into a wooden cutting board the size of a coffee table.
Looking down, I noticed the cloth was covered in little white bunnies that looked like cotton balls.
“This is so cute,” I said. “How did you make it smell like lemon?”
“It’s enchanted to block out other smells and carry that one fragrance. They sell little trinkets like this in Sunbalm where the Mages’ College sits. Students have festivals twice a year selling small enchanted objects to raise money for tuition. I happened to be passing through during one such market day and bought this. I figured it’d help show Opha my devotion to the idea of traveling with a bunny everywhere,” she chuckled. “And if it didn’t work, hey, I had something to cover my mouth when bargaining with a merchant who bathed in cologne.”
Svenoldson continued carrying the wagon up the hill, and we, at last, left the Butcher District behind us. The last thing I saw was a man carrying a cage with two roosters inside walking toward one of the shops. His fingers were bleeding from where he held the cage, and he looked less than thrilled.
That man’s gonna be eating Tenessee Fried Chicken before the night is over, I thought, shivering. Shit. I used to LOVE drumsticks.
When I offered the cloth back to Juno, she winked at me (which did more things that I assume were euphoria-related) and said, “You keep it. I think your nose is a little more sensitive than mine.”
I opened my mouth to argue, and Juno simply placed a hand on top of my head, earning a small yip from yours truly.
After a few seconds of this, I continued, “You probably spent good money on this. . . and. . . and should. . . um, that is…,”
My voice trailed off as Juno ran her nails around the base of my giant ears, ruffling my brown wavy hair. Her touch was gentle but consistent, and all I heard in my head at the time was static. Connection to brain successfully severed.
Shivers and waves of contentedness zigzaged down my neck and shoulders until the amount of gooseflesh on my arms tripled. With an involuntary droop, my shoulders lowered, and my eyes fluttered.
“I figured that’d keep you quiet. You see, Tilda, I’m not a huge fan of pointless arguments,” Juno said with her unstoppably cheerful tone. “Anyway, when I was seven, my pa brought me home a pet bunny. He’d killed the mother on a hunting trip and found this runt in a nearby burrow. That little stinker was rightfully skittish of people, but it warmed up to me soon enough.”
I could hear her just fine, but my brain felt like it was being slow-cooked in butter.
“Anyway, whenever the poor thing started to shake and panic, I’d just do this. It was like an instant stop for any crying or whining from little Winnifred. And I’m glad to see it works on you, too.”
My head bobbed as we bounced through a pothole in the street. Behind us, another cart being pulled by two mules stopped to unload wares at a cobbler’s shop. The owner came out, screaming, “You’re two days late!”
But I didn’t care. I was. . . very euphoric about Juno’s touch. I’d had a few relationships with girls back in my world. But none of them ever ran their fingers along my head like this.
None of the women I dated saw me as the soft person I so desperately wanted to be, and as such, their touches didn’t match what I was unconsciously crying out for. And I was too scared to ask for gentleness. That wasn’t something men were supposed to request inside the bedroom or out. And it’s a shame because I’m convinced now more than ever that more people in the world need a soft touch, to be treated tenderly like a cotton swab or a ball of yarn.
I wasn’t sure if it was being a girl or being a bunny that got me this soft touch I’d always yearned for, but I was damn glad to have it now.
Yeah. . . gratitude, I thought. That’s all this reaction is.
“So don’t bother arguing about being given stuff now and again. I’m giving you the rabbit cloth. I’m paying for your clothes. And tonight, I’ll buy your dinner, drinks, and room. Not because you’ll earn it or owe me a debt. But because I want to. You’re my Luck Bunny, and you act like the kind of girl who’s never been given or bought something cute in her life. . . no offense.”
In that moment, I didn’t think it was physically possible for me to be offended. There was just too much serotonin soaking my brain. I was surprised it didn’t come pouring out of my giant ears.
And when Juno gently grabbed an ear, slowly running her nails up and down it, I knew that I could have been dragged back to one of those butcher shops and cooked without being aware of it.
“Oh, and to answer your earlier question, Governess Lynn is the current ruler of Kylson. She’s not hard to spot, either. Long blonde hair. Incredibly sunny disposition. Seriously, she makes me sound like a sourpuss. And at all times, she’s surrounded by two shriekwings armed to the teeth and sworn to protect her at any cost.”
My mouth felt a tad fuzzy, and at that moment, I began to wonder if the head scritches were the only thing causing my dizziness. I’d soon learn that a little bit of magic drain was happening at the same time. Though neither Juno nor I knew it right then. And I certainly didn’t care.
“Shriekwings?” I pondered quietly, unable to form much coherent thought.
Juno continued to navigate with the reins in her left hand, maneuvering Svenoldson past a stand selling pickles.
“You know, hawkfolk. Rumor has it the ones protecting her at all times are a pair of ex-assassins she saved on the day of their execution. The story goes they swore eternal fealty to her immediately afterward. Ever since, nobody’s gotten within 20 feet of killing her. Ope! Whoa now, Svenoldson. Hold up.”
Juno stopped scratching my ear, and I looked up just in time to see two members of the City Guard take a man with long black hair and the whitest teeth I’d ever seen into custody.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” he yelled, struggling.
The guards were twice his size and seemed to be holding him in place easily enough. One of them took off his helmet and said, “Halt, Roderick Vildusk of Riverwalk. You’re under arrest for crimes against Kylson and her people. Three banks have sworn in testimony before a judge that you robbed them last week. You’re coming with us to the City Jail to answer for charges of thievery and skullduggery.”
After a brief struggle, Roderick spat on the ground and said, “Okay! Okay. I’ll surrender. Shit.”
The other guard pulled out a set of manacles and said, “Smarter than you look, Roderick.”
I only noticed it for a second, but Juno’s hand that’d been scratching my head seemed to shine briefly with an otherworldly gold shimmer.
The fuck is that? was all I had time to think before the guards threw Roderick to the ground and secured his hands with the manacles.
And as that thief hit the ground, wind rushing from his lungs, a small leather pouch full of coins shot out from Roderick’s cloak at breakneck speed, struck a drainpipe on the cobbler’s shop, raced upward, bounced off the store’s gutters and went spinning down into Juno’s open palm, coming to a sudden and perfect rest.
Neither of the guards noticed the coins and started to lead Roderick away.
Juno and I just stared at the bag, jaws practically on the buckboard by our feet, entirely raw with disbelief.
The messenger finally shook her head and said, “You saw that, right?”
I nodded.
“Did you do that?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Juno looked back and forth from my head to her hand several times, thinking up a storm. Behind our wagon, a pair of kids ran by, swinging sticks around like they were swords. One stuck a wagon wheel with a harmless but resounding THUNK.
When her brainstorming session was complete, Juno said, “Tilda, as crazy as this sounds, I think I borrowed luck from you by scratching your head for a few minutes.”
I raised an eyebrow and realized that my magic did feel considerably more drained than it did prior to the heavenly head scritches.
Throwing my shoulders up, all I could say was, “Well, seems an even trade to me.”
Then, before I could stop myself, I added, “Feel free to do that again whenever you want, by the way.”
All too late, I slapped a hand over my mouth. Juno sat there with a shit-eating grin, knowing exactly what I’d spoken aloud.
“Noted, oh exalted Bunny Goddess. Now come on. We’ve got to get moving and find a stable for Svenoldson. And wouldn’t you know it? My precious daisy moose will be treated to the best lunch and dessert courtesy of one extraordinarily generous man by the name of Roderick Vildusk of Riverwalk.”
With my nose twitching at the words “lunch” and “dessert,” I stared hungrily at Juno, who burst out laughing.
“Oh, don’t worry, my dear Luck Bunny. Mr. Vildusk will be buying our lunch and dessert as well.”
And that left me very happy.