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Singing down History, a continuation of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call (@inventrix)

Feb7

After
Scrounging for History (LJ)
Digging through History (LJ)
Delving in History (LJ) and
Bringing Home History (LJ)

Part 4 of ~7.5
Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

The rope seemed rather superfluous, but Karida didn’t want to risk their new… sister… wandering off, so she finished the ritual, giving the girl a little more water and then binding her wrists in front of her, leaving the end of the rope as a leash.

Fiery didn’t even fight the rope, looking at it with an expression Karida thought might be resignation. “Show us what you know of this place?” she asked, to take their minds off of that.

The girl nodded, and looked around for a moment, orienting herself, maybe. Or buying time. Amalie hummed softly, getting the thread of the song back. “This changes the tune. It adds…” she hummed for a moment more, and then sang a quick scale of nonsense sounds. “Ah. A minor note.”

“Sounds like there ought to be a thudding drumbeat,” Dor commented. “Maybe just the walking? Ba-bum, ba-bum.”

“Ba-bum,” Fiery smiled, thudding a beat on her thighs, da-da-da-DUM.

Let them sing the trip. Someone had to actually MAKE the trip for the song to finish. Smiling in exasperation, Karida started walking again.

The buildings nearby were in bad shape, fallen in, collapsed. She went past three without entering, because her sense told her they were death traps, empty of anything useful and full of rotting boards.

Behind her, her little party followed, humming and singing as if they were on parade, Amalia holding Fiery’s lead. They turned down what had to be a road, between the wrecks of two homes, and then down another road, while the music evolved and trailed behind them.

The song, as far as Karida could tell, had taken a detour into their captive’s life, or at least what little she was capable of telling them so far.

“‘Monster,’ they said, who had eyes but no sight,
“‘Monster!’ They threw their kin to the night.
“‘Monster,’ no beast, just a girl with a gift,
“‘Monster,’ their child, set loose and adrift.”

“Monster,” Karida snapped, as her sense told her something was coming, something that had gotten nearly up on her without her knowing. Too big to be a human, too silent to be a normal creature.

“Kar…” Amalie complained, but Karida didn’t have time for that.

“‘Ware danger,” she repeated, reaching out her sense. The damn thing was invisible, wasn’t it, and there it was, almost on top of them and she could smell its breath, like carrion rotting. “There’s a monster.” She swung with her stick and connected, landing on something tender, from the sounds of things. “Dor!”

“On it.” Dor muttered and then yelled, pressing his hands and his power towards the monster, guided by Karida’s swings and the solid thunking noises they made. Something caught her arm, raking a long cut through her sleeve and into her skin, burning and going numb all at once.

She shifted her grip to her other hand, cursing softly, and kept swinging. Any moment now…

“And thud,” Amalie sang with joy, and the ground under the monster opened up in a pit.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/262108.html. You can comment here or there.

Bringing Home History, a continuation of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call (@inventrix)

Feb3

After
Scrounging for History (LJ)
Digging through History (LJ)
Delving in History (LJ)

Part 3 of ~7.5
Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

At least they knew what to do. Karida nodded to Dor, who began plundering the area quickly.

“My home,” the girl hissed. “Go ‘way.”

“No, it’s not,” Karida answered gently. “There’s not even a blanket. You may have been scrounging here, same as us, but you don’t live here.”

“My home,” she repeated stubbornly. Karida reached out again, but she could find nothing like a nest. Even the most feral of humans made nests.

“No,” she shook her head, and carefully took the girl’s wrists. They were thin and bony, with a bit of firm muscle under the skin. “Do you have a tribe? A village, a town, a family, a people?” She stopped, because with every word, the girl flinched.

“No,” she whimpered. “Did…”

“Aah.” A sole survivor, perhaps, a runaway? Karida lead her gently back into the basement, and from there up the stairs. “Where were your people?”

The girl’s words seemed to be coming more smoothly as she kept at it. “To south,” she gestured.

“In the towers?” Those were giant buildings. They could house a whole colony in one of those, and never need to split up again.

“No, no. No!” She almost shouted the last, pulling at Karida’s grip on her wrists. “No.” Her shoulders slumped. “Further.”

“Not the towers. Okay.” Those would need investigating, probably by the whole company. “Why… oh.”

The girl folded in on herself at they reached the sunlight, but nothing could hide the finely-pointed ears sticking out of her hair, or the faintly golden shimmer of her skin. “They threw you out?” she guessed.

“Guh,” the girl sobbed, pulling her knees to her chin. How long has she been on her own? Well, she wasn’t any longer. Dor had followed them out of the hole; he handed her a length of rope now, and a small bit of bread, and their canteen.

Karida knelt down. “It’s all right. What’s your name?”

“Fiery,” she managed, still flinching down as small as she could get.

“Okay, Fiery. You know this area pretty well?”

“Little.” She was talking into her knees, but it wasn’t the first time Karida had interpreted, and, behind them, Amalie was humming quietly, helping.

“Then here.” She pressed canteen and bread into the girl’s hands. “Eat. Drink. We will feed you and give you water. We will protect you.” And clean her up. “And you will guide us around this place.”

Fiery nodded, and nibbled at the food cautiously, washing it down with long gulps of water. “I can,” she agreed, her mouth full. “Protect?” Her pointed ears perked up at that.

“Protect you,” Dor agreed. He sat down to the other side of the girl, one hand on her shoulders. “Like you were our own.”

“And teach you,” Amalie offered, working it into her tune. “Like a little sister.”

“Like a sister,” Karida agreed. It would remain to see how many words the girl could learn, but that one, it was clear she knew.

“Sister.” She ducked her head to hide a smile. “Yes.”

Continued in Singing down History (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/256401.html. You can comment here or there.

Damn List, a story of Ahouva/#Addergoole Year Nine for… um.. myself.

Feb2

After Moving On (LJ

Content warning for more … post-trauma magical thinking. I really don’t know what to call it but Ahouva’s brain is not a fun place to be and she’s not very nice to herself.

Out the back door of the classroom, down a side hallway, if she turned left here she could make it to the place where they went outside for kaana lessons. She planned out her route, even as she examined Basalt’s orders – and not just the very few he made orders directly, but all the other things he said that didn’t force obedience, just tested it.

She didn’t have an direct rules about where she should be after class, but he had said “I’ll meet you after your class.” That could just be courtesy, but it was probably a test. Probably a test she was in the process of failing. Just because Calvin creeped her out. Bad girl.

Chastising herself: she knew better. She knew to do what she was told. If she did what she was told, Basalt would at least have less reason to be unhappy with her, to punish her. He hadn’t punished her yet, except these lists, but that just meant it would be horrid when he finally did.

She slowed down and, forcing her feet to keep going, turned around. She had to go back. It was the only chance she had at understanding what he wanted of her. It was her only chance of minimizing her punishm-

“Ow! You bastard!” Ahouva stopped inside the doorway again, trying to stay hidden and still listen. That was Calvin, wasn’t it?

“If you ever,” Basalt’s voice was low and menacing, a rumble like a volcano about to erupt, “say anything like that where Ahouva can hear you, I will break more than your nose, you pissant little piece of shit. You leave my Kept alone.”

“You can’t get away with this shit.”

“Watch me. Bring your useless little friends, and I’ll bring my friends, and we’ll see how that goes.” He was terrifying. She pressed herself against the doorway and tried to become invisible. “Get out of here. I don’t want her to have to deal with you.”

“I’m gonna…”

“Now now, you aren’t. Get out of here.” Ahouva heard someone walking away, hurrying away, what a wonderful idea. She should…

No, she shouldn’t. She made herself smile faintly as Basalt rounded the corner, and stopped, frowning.

Frowning. Frowning was bad. She took an involuntary step backwards. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t want you to hear that.” He wiped his hand on his jeans, leaving a wet streak on the black denim. Ahouva gulped, and stepped back again, cursing herself as Basalt’s frown deepened. “‘Who, I’m sorry. Believe me, I didn’t want you to hear that.”

“I believe you,” she answered dully.

“Oh, balls, honey, come here,” he grumbled, holding out a hand. Unwillingly, she reached out for his hand, putting her fingers over his fingers. “Ahouva, Calvin is a grade-A asshole. I don’t want him bothering you. What are you…?”

“This stupid list,” she muttered, scribbling in it. “It’s still after class and…”

He peered over her shoulder. “Oh. Well. Let’s go talk about that, okay?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/255729.html. You can comment here or there.

Ask the Characters 1: Kendra

Feb2

Kendra, a slim, mousy girl, complete with mouse ears and nose, walks into the room nervously, and settles into the big rocking chair, looking out at the gathered audience. Her hands smooth her blue skirt uncertainly.

“Um, hi?” Her voice is a tiny squeak. “Professor Pelletier said you wanted to ask me questions?”

Kendra is a character in the Addergoole web-serial.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/255364.html. You can comment here or there.

Legacy

Feb2

This is, I think, [personal profile] lilfluff‘s fault.

The summer between years 31 & 32 of the Addergoole school

The boy with the unfortunate name of JohnWayne seemed to be settling in decently to Yoshi’s mom’s collar by the first time Yoshi visited home. At the very least, he wasn’t fidgeting, wasn’t hiding, and had learned to stay away from Uncle Howard and leave Gaheris alone.

He had, interestingly, far more a sense of curiosity than most of Mom’s Kept had displayed, displayed in part by the place that Yoshi had found him.

He also seemed to be lacking in common sense enough to pretend he’d just happened upon the hidden closet and hadn’t seen anything. Then again, Yoshi wasn’t sure he could blame him. After all, he’d found Mom’s trophy rack.

Yoshi had seen it before, of course. From the look on JohnWayne’s face, he hadn’t been expecting that.

“That…” He gulped, and tapped the saddle-leather collar hanging under the tidily-lettered “Pellinore.” “That’s my father’s name.”

Yoshi took another look at the kid – weird that they’d started out grown-ups and ended up kids, while Mom never seemed to change. He could see it, in the eyes, in the pointed ears. “I remember him,” he agreed. “He was a nice guy when he was here. Mad as hell about it for a while, though. Mom said he nearly blew up the car.”

That didn’t seem to help Johnny-boy any. He blanched, a trick with his complexion, and looked back at the rack. “All those names…?”

“Yeah. All Kept. Mom’s Kept.” He had his own trophy rack in the castle. Taking pity on the boy, he reached over and tapped the very first one. “That’s my dad’s name.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/254212.html. You can comment here or there.

All the Love! Linnnnks!

Feb2

Read my story “The Wish Machine” (from the Aunt Family ‘verse) in this month’s EMG-Zine!

All the Addergoole Fanfic!!!!

[personal profile] clare_dragonfly wrote this story of Kayros and Vic.

[personal profile] kajones_writing created
these characters and then wrote
this story and
this story.

And
cluudle wrote this story set in the same general timeline as my current Boom ‘fics, staring Yoshi’s paternal half-brother Etienne.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/253667.html. You can comment here or there.

Cleaning Up, More of the Story of Addergoole Post-Apoc (@inventrix @cluudle)

Feb1

After: Separation Anxiety (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/381004.html”>LJ) Boom!/RP timeline/ Cynara
Parting Advice, and Mother Bears (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/384190.html”>LJ)
Mother-Son Bonding (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/388716.html”>LJ)
Kept du Jour/a> (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/390514.html”>LJ)
“Are we killing this one?” (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/391532.html”>LJ)
Meeting the Family (LJ) (a chat log)
and
Roleplay Log (Cya/Cabal, posted by cluudle); about one month after the beginning of this story.

Content warning: implied neglect-style abuse.

“Cya? Protect your Kept.”

She sighed, and headed out to the barn, the echoes of her conversation with Cabal still ringing in her ears. He was right, of course. He was usually right.

“So you show your son that you’re a Keeper who lets their Kept be-“

No. No, she had never been that sort of Keeper. Cabal knew that; he’d been her first Kept. She’d always taken care of what was hers, of who was hers. And Panlong should be no different.

”Yoshi wants him here so he can deal with him.” She had to let her son grow up, sadly, and part of that was letting him deal with Pan on his own. She couldn’t keep solving his problems forever.

“Come here.” The boy looked filthy, tired, and hungry. He’d been cleaning the stable for… hunh. Probably too long now. She knew better than that.

“Mistress?”

“Cynara,” she corrected, as he walked hesitantly over to her, his shoulders slumped. Yep, he stank. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. She grabbed his shoulder as gently as she could force herself to be, and steered him out behind the barn.

“Cynara?” he squeaked. There was a hose around here somewhere, and a drain…

“Strip. We’ll burn those clothes if they can’t be salvaged.”

He looked like he was considering running, but none of her Kept tried that more than once. Having a Keeper who can Find you anywhere had to be a bit disheartening, she supposed. “Strip?” he repeated, even as he did so. This is not being gentle, Cya. She knew that. She also knew she was going to have to work herself up to gentle.

The slow nervous trickle of urine running down his leg suggested that perhaps she would have to work up to it more quickly. “Am… are…” he stuttered.

She picked up the hose, noting someone had left it in the sun. Good, the first spray wouldn’t be horrid then, and it was late July. “I am going to wash you off,” she told him, trying for gentle and at least managing calm. “And then I am going to take you inside and give you a proper bath, and you and I are going to have a conversation.”

“Okay?” he squeaked, uncertain whether or not to be relieved.

“And Cabal is not going to shoot you,” she added helpfully.

“Good?” he gulped, as she started the hose.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/252547.html. You can comment here or there.

Meeting the Family, More of the Story of Addergoole Post-Apoc (@inventrix @cluudle)

Feb1

This is actually a storified chat-log from a chat RP with @inventrix after
Separation Anxiety (LJ) Boom!/RP timeline/ Cynara
Parting Advice, and Mother Bears (LJ)
Mother-Son Bonding (LJ)
Kept du Jour (LJ)
and
“Are we killing this one?” (LJ)

Content warnings: implied past abuse.

“Idu Intinn” is a, um, magic spell meaning “Know Mind;” in short, surface telepathy.

By the time they reached the Ranch, Panlong was collared, nervous, and very confused-seeming, in part, Cya was sure, because Yoshi couldn’t seem to settle on a way to treat the older boy.

Leo, shirking chores, appeared next to the car as if summoned to help unload, half-Masked as he tended to in fuzzy-antler season, his ears and tail showing but not his antlers. Cya smiled at him as she got out of the car and popped the trunk; Yoshi, still Masked, and Panlong, still un-Masked, followed her out of the car, looking various shades of unhappy.

Leo stopped dead in his tracks, and Cya’s heart sank. She’d expected some reaction, once she told the crew. Not on sight. She did this every year – didn’t she?

Leo glanced between Pan and Cya, looking super-suspicious. “Who’s this?”

“Leofric sa’Lightning-Blade this is Panlong oro’Cynara,” she introduced them formally. “Pan, Leo.” At some point, she’d need to learn the Name Pan had earned. Not today.
Leo, still watching Panlong warily, inclined his head in a brief greeting. He then, pointedly, said nothing to him, instead turning to Yoshi as they unloaded the car. “So, how’d it go?”

Panlong was clearly fighting his instincts with his terror and common sense, and did not turn his back on this bigger buck as he moved as Cya directed. She kept both eyes on him and muttered a quick Idu Intinn, just enough to let her follow the conversation from beyond normal earshot, reading the conversation from Yoshi’s ears and eyes.

“It went,” Yoshi answered carefully.

“…I see.” Leofric was clearly not pleased with this answer, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he made a tense gesture at Pan. “Friend of yours?”

“He was in a crew with my Keeper,” he answered slowly. “I thought Mom might like him.”

“Oh.” Leo managed to put enough hostility into that one syllable to level a small country. “Well. It looks like you were right.” The boy is still here, after all. For the moment.

Yoshi winced a little bit. “Mom probably wouldn’t like it if you did permanent damage to him,” he muttered sotto voce…

Cya was conveniently in line of sight, still, but not in earshot. Panlong, on the other hand, hovering between her and Yoshi, could hear just fine. She noted the way he flinched forward and deemed it an acceptable level of twitchiness. He deserved some nerves for what he’d done to her son.

“Only permanent?” Leo kept his voice down to the same level and looks up at the kid, grinning. “That’s easy.”

Yoshi shook his head. “I know why I don’t like him. Why don’t you?” This time, it was quieter, quiet enough that a slowly-sidling-away Pan could only hear that SOMETHING is being said.

Cya was glad for the Idu, wanting to know the answer. She moved closer to Pan, to put a hand on his shoulder, and pointed out where he needed to put things – Yoshi’s things in his room, Pan’s things…

“Hunh. Hallway closet for now.” She was not going to be sharing room or bedspace with this one. Certainly not right away.

Outside, Leo considered the question thoughtfully. “It’s complicated,” he finally settled on.

Oh, good, Leo. Complicated. Cya sighed again. This was going to get messy.

And then Yoshi made it messier. “I’m all for more reasons to hate him. Is it ’cause he kinda looks like you? I mean… Mom’s brought home your half-brothers before.” Yes, dear. About fifty percent of the time. Or nephews, or great-nephews.

Leofric tensed and shot Yoshi a sharp glance. “Why did you think Cya would like him?”

There was a pause while her son considered her answer. Cya studied the boy, antlers, blonde hair, that chin she knew so well, while waiting. He shoved his suitcases in the hall closet, and looked out at the car like it was a war zone.

“She has a type.” Two types, thank you. Possibly three. “And, well, I wanted to fuck with him. Getting him under Mom’s collar seemed a good way to kill two birds with one stone.”

Cya chuckled, and then had to make it a cough.

“Go on,” she snapped at Panlong. “Keep moving.”

Leo’s fingers twitched in a barely-repressed reflex. “What did he–” He cut himself off mid-sentence and exhaled loudly. “If you feel like talking about it…”

Listening, Cya felt her glare at the boy deepening. What did he do, indeed.

Yoshi’s breaths were getting shakey. “Not yet. Thanks, Uncle Leo.” He smiled uncertainly. “Pan wasn’t the worst of it, but Mom doesn’t ever Keep girls.”

Oh. Oh. Some bitch was going to die a messy, bloody death. A slow one. Pan, seeing the look on her face, backed up slowly towards the closet.

Leofric looked like he was going to say something, then just smiled crookedly. “No, she doesn’t.”

Oh, dear. Cya wished, momentarily, for a deeper Idu, but she wouldn’t do that without his permission.

Yoshi’s face twisted in worry. “Uncle Leo…?” he asked nervously.

“It’s okay.” His smile looked a bit forced and uncertain to Yoshi’s eyes, like he wasn’t sure it was the right response. “You talked to your mom about it, yet?”

Hardly. She frowned, and resisted the urge to shove the boy in the closet.

“A little. I mean, Pan was in the car, so there was only so much. And… she’s my mom,” he adds uncertainly. “She sounds like she gets it, but can she, really?” He sounds like he’s not sure he wants to know.

Oh, son. She bit her lip and went for the next load of luggage.

“Yes.” It was a very definite yes. “She does.”

“I’m not sure I want to think about how Mom knows that sort of thing.” Yoshi squirmed uncomfortably; listening in, Cya did, too. “She said you might… get it?”

Leofric glanced away, looking conflicted. “…I might. If…” He trails off. “Whenever you want to talk about it, I’ll… try.” It was time to break this conversation up. She grabbed Panlong and steered him towards the others with another chest.

She paused by the pair, son and beloved, meeting Leo’s eye. He gave her a twisted half-smile, almost apologetic, then gave himself a shake and inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. With that, he was back to normal-for-Leo. He smiled at her again, a real smile but with an edge. “How’s the new boy doing?”

“Terrified. Rightfully.” She kept looking at him for a moment. “Don’t kill him, Leo.” It was almost a request, almost a plea. And then she couldn’t stand it anymore, and hugged him, tightly, fiercely.

He hesitated, then hugged her back carefully “I won’t kill him.” And, as an afterthought; “I won’t let Zita kill him, either.”

“Thank you, Leo.” She pretended not to notice the death look he sent the boy, and added, instead, “if I thought he was un-redeemable, he never would have survived the drive home.” And that, she made sure Panlong heard.

For a moment, Leo’s smile looked almost bitter. “I figured.”

“Are you mad at me?” she whispered, confused by the bitterness.

“What? No, of course not.” He was obviously confused by the question, so she tried to explain.

“You’re getting that way where I don’t know where you are again,” she muttered in his pointed ear.
“Where…? I’m…” He trailed off, then glanced at Yoshi and away again. “Sorry.” It was just barely audible. “But I promise, you haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not upset with you. Okay?”
Looking at his face, she knew it was going to have to be enough right now. She nodded, and then, still up against his ear, she whispered, “I love you, Leo. I always will.”

His arms were warm around her for just a moment. “Anything else need to be brought in?”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/252178.html. You can comment here or there.

Delving in History, a continuation of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call (@inventrix)

Jan31

For The [personal profile] inventrix‘s commissioned prompt, a continuation of Scrounging for History (LJ), and Digging through History (<a
href=”http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/391242.html”>LJ) Part 2 of… probably 7.5

Fae Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

The stairs seemed to go on forever. Karida hated places like this, going into the dark, not knowing quite what was there. She couldn’t imagine doing it “blind,” like a normal human, not knowing if the stair under you would crack or not, not knowing where the walls were. She couldn’t imagine doing it at all if she didn’t know if something lurked in the corners. Not knowing what was lurking was hard enough, nightmare enough.

She hit the bottom of the stairs, reaching for her senses to reassure her that Dor was right behind her, Amalie up at the top looking out, or at least there, if not actually watching. And the something was still there, hiding in the back corner. Waiting for them? Aware of their presence at all? She did not have the Words to know, and Amalie’s Workings were too unreliable (like everything about her, except her song). She kept walking, feeling her way, avoiding the detritus on the floor and sweeping what she could out of the way for Dor.

They were not silent. There was no point in silence, and much more point in being safe. They could trip and fall in stealth, and then both their quiet and their tactical position would be ruined. So instead, they moved forward, hoping it was a wild animal, hoping to spook it out instead of spooking it into attacking them.

Three more steps. Four. The something in the back corner hadn’t moved. “Light,” she murmured to Dor, and he lit the lamp with its small share of oil. A door hung half-off its hinges, a small room defined by broken walls, one hung with pegs. Anything that had hung on the pegs had long since been taken, except one tiny wrench hiding in a corner. Karida pocketed that, pocketed the three remaining pegs, and pushed aside the broken door.

It had been – she wasn’t sure. The ancients had rooms for things she, wagon-born and raised, could hardly imagine. Maybe a storage room? Half-broken crates lined the walls, a few of them, near the bottom, looking intact. They would deal with those later. Hiding, nearly in the crates, in the back corner….

The thing hissed and jumped out at them as Dor swung the light towards Karida’s gesture. Thing, no, not a thing, “flat, Dor, flat,” she called, and tried to take the small woman down with her staff. Two quick thumps to non-vital parts, a third and fourth from the flat of Dor’s wakizashi, and their attacker lay sprawled whimpering at their feet.

“Do you think she’s feral?” Dor murmured. If she was, there would be no reasoning with her, no bargaining. The kindness would be to leave her to her wildness.

“Lee-mee-lone,” the woman muttered. Girl, Karida realized, filthy but with some effort to tidy herself. No older than Amalie.

“No,” she answered slowly. “Or… at least not entirely.” It might have been better if she was.


Next: Bringing Home History (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/251765.html. You can comment here or there.

When the Gods Attacked, a story of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call

Jan31

For [personal profile] kc_obrien‘s prompt

Faerie Apoc has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ

It has a very very rudimentary wiki beginning here

Maggie went through her Change as Marduk declared supremacy over the capital of New York State, presumably because the bigger gods had already invaded New York City and the Polish & Russian gods taking over Buffalo were more than a little terrifying.

She was walking home from classes with her friend ‘Cray when the strafing began, dragons flying low overhead, lighting buildings on fire at seeming random. They started running, feet pounding the pavement, every beat seeming to be not enough not enough, not enough, and as they ran, her ten-inch height advantage over her friend seemed to grow, and her feet were burning, screaming in pain, her heels feeling like they were moving. She kept running – there was something like a dinosaur lumbering down the street, and they had to get off the roads and into a house, preferably a stone house – until she couldn’t walk anymore, and found herself pulled into a building. There, the pain finally took over, and she passed out.

She came back to consciousness a few minutes later to the smell of ‘Cray filling her nose, thick and feline and worried, like a tom-cat ready to kill something, stronger than she’d ever known him. She opened her eyes, slowly, to find him hovering over her, his now-very-pointed ears pointing at her. A low giggle escaped her. “McCrae, I always said you were a tomcat.”

“And I always said you were a fox. I think I was a little off,” he noted. “Dodger says thylacine, and, more importantly, says we need to leave the city before the fighting really starts.”

“Dodger?” The only Dodger she knew was the bum who played violin for spare change.

“Dodger,” a voice behind her agreed; the bum’s voice, but richer, heavier, and more musical. “There’s a lot to explain, including why I was watching over the two of you, but the TL:DR version is this: Marduk has moved into the city with a crew of about seven smaller fae and a double dozen really nasty human and human-like warriors. The good guys are on their way, and they’re going to do their best to stop him, but everyone and everything will be on the lookout for kids like you, Changed but with no sense yet. Don’t promise anyone anything, don’t tell anyone your names, and by all that’s holy, don’t get into any fights with anyone.”

He was standing over Maggie by the time he finished this, revealing himself to be, well, himself, but with a shaggy tail and perky collie ears, and a much cleaner trenchcoat than she normally saw him in. There were gods attacking the city, so she avoided commentary about Crime Dogs, and simply nodded. She was pretty sure he was trying to save their lives.

“Where do we go? And how?”

He pressed a key into her hands, and another one into ‘Cray’s. “There’s a van outside. There’s a map with a route highlighted on it in yellow. Cray drives. You have the cabin key. Wait there for me. If I don’t come in a month… you’re on your own.” He helped her to her feet and gave them a gentle shove. “Go. There’s a war on, and you’re not ready to be enlisted.”

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