Shifti - User contributions [en]

Mayan Eye (Setting)

2020-04-18T03:31:17Z

Xodiac:

{{editing requested}}
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'''Background'''
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Mayan Eye is a shifter based setting taking place in the Prohibition Period in the city of New York, the canon is meant to be played a little on the loose end so don’t worry if you don’t perfectly match the pre-existing stories. With that said it is a time of expansion for technology with the industrial revolution underway, the horseless carriage is starting to catch on, and new business opportunities and conveniences brought to us by new technology have increased both wealth and the quality of life.

The Temperance League and Women’s Suffrage movements have earned women the right to vote, and the Flapper Girls seek to take things a step further not wanting to be reduced to the role of a mere housewife.

It is however not a time for Social Progress. The KKK is considered a mainstream club for Anglo-Saxons, the black man is struggling to find his place in an America that no longer enslaves him, but isn’t ready to embrace him as a human being with rights and dignity. Unpleasant phrases starting with the letter N are commonplace, and the most beloved film is Birth of a Nation based on the novel “The Klansman”

Crime has increased thanks to the recent bans on Alcohol, meant to protect women and children from alcoholic men, but ironically have made the streets more dangerous; the Mafia and other Underground Criminal organizations now have a product that can be peddled to the average citizen.

They were difficult times, now made even more ardorous by the fact there are people who can at-will transform into anthropomorphic animals. Hated and feared by the public, and officially dubbed “Weres”, after old wives tales about “Werewolves” who turn into blood-thirsty mongrels under full moon light.

Common slang terms to refer to weres include “Fur Negro“, “Fuzzy Face” and “Wolfman”. Wolf comparisons are often made independent of whether or not a were can turn into a wolf, again due to parallels to ancient campfire stories.

The Origins of Were - No one knows how or why the first were came around or how recently.
Discoveries of ancient civilizations in South America and Africa, Ancient Maya and Egypt, that had drawings of half-man/half-animal deities and creatures have led to speculation that they are an old force once feared and revered force slowly returning to modern day. Naturally this speculation leads to theories and fears.

Early on it was believed that Weres could turn other people into Weres by biting them, this was quickly debunked much to the disappointment of Weres hoping to preach tolerance through conversion of their enemies, and to the greater distress who secretly desired the condition.

No one knows how or why people become weres. The US Government maintains that is the side-effect of a recent strain of influenza. Many find this to be a rather weak hypothesis as those who become Were do not typically show signs of sickness beforehand, and those that do retain their Were condition long after the disease has worked its way through.

The true cause is suspected by very few, and known for sure by absolutely no one.

The Earliest Were recorded by the US Government was a pitbull by the name of Abraham Lincoln who self-registered his condition into the US Archives; leaving instructions to form task forces to look into the condition and find if others had it. Only his closest staff and a select number of Union Civil War Generals knew the truth.

The public is kept in the dark about Honest Abe’s canine nature in order to preserve the legacy of the Great Emancipator, and to prevent the South from having any further negative perceptions of him.

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'''Three Stages of Werehood'''
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Those who become Were may find themselves going down a slippery slope for it is only the first stage of a three step program. What triggers progression of the condition is not known, however as of 1924 it seems to be rare enough for it to be a non-issue.

'''Were-''' An individual may freely switch between human and Were form at will. Transformation into a Were is universally considered a pleasant sensation. The creature a were becomes is deeply reflected by the individual’s personality and mental state. The downside to this is that if the person has some form of psychosis it will be reflected in their wereform. A warped mind can lead to a warped body.

Though the most common form of Were is animal, there have been Elemental and Plant based Weres as well, though animal is the most common.

This in mind. Body Dysphoria in one’s Were form is virtually unheard of with any dislike of the form being linked entirely to social problems, the Were Form for many feels akin to taking off a restrictively tight garment and finally being able to stretch and breathe.

'''Para-''' The Were form becomes increasingly more animalistic than usual. It becomes easier to become Were, and harder to revert back to a human. When transition into the Para Stage is complete one finds themselves stuck in Anthro form. The body euphoria effect from the Were stage is intensified by the time one gets to the Para stage, making it quite the frightening experience.

'''Feral-''' The Supernatural Abilities of the individual explode exponentially in power, however the individual now resembles a somewhat larger version of a wild animal. The ability to talk diminishes with time, but this isn’t too big of a deal as Ferals do gain the ability to speak telepathically if they didn’t have it before

Once one awakens to their Were nature it will always be apart of them, though there are methods for reversing the later stages of the condition they require much self-discipline and determination that one may not have anymore.
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'''Magick'''
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Magick is very real in the Mayan Eye universe. The Government attempts to keep it secret mostly in the name of national security.

Magick was considered for Military and Agricultural applications back in the Lincoln days but ultimately it was scrapped. Magic is far too unpredictable, it’s unknown how it will manifest in someone or when.

The only things known for sure about it is that the ability to do magick is linked to being a Were. Not every were can perform feats of mysticism, but all mages are Weres. There are few limitations to magick save for

1. The fact that how, why, and what form it manifests in a Were vary from person to person.

2. A Were cannot perform magick while in their human form.

Theoretically there are no limits to a Were’s power, it’s just a matter of figuring out how to connect the dots so to speak. The best way to explain it is to think of Magick as its own language, with each person’s brain having its own language for understanding the structure and consistency of the world around them. Learning and Using Magick is nothing more than a matter of getting these two tongues to translate to one another.

At present most who do know magick, only know one school of it, though it’s possible to use any magick provided you know how… Which is a bigger obstacle than it seems especially considering the legality of Magick.

Even knowing magic is real carries a felony in America, affairs having to do with the supernatural are carried out by an Agency called Mayan Eye that works with America’s Law Enforcement. The Department of Manimal Affairs (A branch of Law Enforcement catering to crimes with suspected Were involvement), is often used as a cover story for Mayan Eye activities and locales.

Agents of Mayan Eye are the only people legally allowed to study, practice, and use magick, and are strongly discouraged from letting the common man know too much about it.

The US Government doesn’t care for or about magick. Only Weres can use it and since most people, even amongst those in Government, Industry, and Military, are human it is not a point of interest or priority for them. They just want to ignore it, and hope that the Mayan Eye Agency can help them do so.
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'''Schools of Magick'''
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If Magick is a language then each “School” of Magick is a single word of it that a Were knows. These aren’t literal words, but rather more abstract concepts that the brain cannot easily understand nor can the mouth say. But if it can “Translate” the word, it can master that “Word”, and find ways to use it in “sentences” that the Were knows.

Sometimes schools “Blend” and “Branch Out”, allowing one to tap into the places where these “Schools” intersect.

For example: Someone who can enchant objects may be able to give them freezing properties, but not necessarily know Cyromancy, while someone who is a Cyromancer may only be able to specifically enchant something for a freeze

There’s nothing stopping someone from learning multiple schools aside from the fact that no one has, or if someone has they haven’t stepped forward and have no reason to.

Writers are encouraged to get creative when determining these, so I will not make a list and say, “These are the schools of magick, no magick but this exists.” Rather, I’ll list examples of Schools characters in setting have learned.

'''Pyromancy''' One of the most common powers, however common does not mean weak by any stretch of the imagination. Pyromancy is at heart the ability to conjure fire, though not necessarily the ability to manipulate it. Not only can one produce fire but possibly forge constructs of fire as well. However once the fire is created it’s very much out of one’s hands. You can breathe fire, throw fireballs, create items of fire, though controlling the flame once it’s been cast is quite difficult. This can be a problem for someone with more vision than responsibility. Those impassioned or particularly energetic may find it easy to weave such flames. - Known Practitioner: Jeffrey “Styg” Eades

'''Empathy''' The ability to read the emotions and thoughts of others; it takes a creative mind to use this effectively, and an even greater one to be able to shield oneself. A mind is a powerful thing, reading the thoughts and emotions of others without experiencing those things are your own is quite difficult. With enough power and skill one may be able to implant their thoughts and feelings into others. This talent may come naturally to one who makes it their business to read people - Known Practitioner: Madame Puma

'''Alchemy''' All things in this world are made up of chemicals - a pinch of this, a dash of that. Those with the Alchemy Power are well aware of this as they are able to conceptualize the building blocks of the universe and rearrange them through acts of transmutation. While not as flashy as a bolt of lightning nor as convenient as mind control, it is quite versatile.

The power is useless if one is not focused and dedicated, giving it something of a reputation as a Puzzle Box power. As one has to do the math and work with the materials on hand, sorting through the molecules to rearrange it, one can’t just up and turn lead into gold with nothing but will. That’s whacky nonsense. There is no something from nothing.
Known Practitioner: Chuck “Romme” Matthews

'''Sonus Capire''' Sound Manipulation, This is a truly special form of magick to learn as it will literally alter your perception of the world around you. As you begin to perceive sounds as colors, objects, emotions, and sometimes even tastes.
Known Practitioner: Carl “Schree” Washington

'''Chronomancy''' The manipulation of time is the rarest of all gifts and to date the only Were to do so is Rabb, the head of Ability Assessment for Mayan Eye. His abilities are just what you’d expect, he can rewind and fast forward certain objects as though they were film reels. He uses this to restore the bullets of his gun and the tobacco of his cigarettes often, he can also look into possible timelines as well. If he had a true grip on this power there’s no telling what he could do. This power was granted to him when he merged with an entity, and exists naturally in no Weres.
Sole Practitioner: Ledon “Rabb” Gosheven

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'''Moon Fever/Lunacy'''
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There are old stories that Weres can only transform under the full moon (which isn’t true, they can change whenever they want), and others that state a Were goes entirely berserk state where they can’t help but murder anything that moves.

In reality all the Moon does is empower weres, mages can use this to their advantage if they know how. However all this really amounts to in practice for the average shifter is that they find it harder to maintain a human form; and they find themselves to be a bit more confident and energetic when the moon is waxing. A waning moon does not weaken a were, it merely removes this effect. It’s common for Weres to literally dance the night away during a full moon because of how hyperactive they get during it.

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'''The Organization Itself'''
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Mayan Eye - The US Government’s nastiest little secret. The only people allowed to study and practice magick. Always share their offices with DMA, though their foot is often left unlisted in directories with only the man running the elevator knowing much of its existence. Some suspect, accurately, Mayan Eye’s existence but dare not speak of it.

Mayan Eye mostly seeks those who’ve come into magick, yet those willing to follow orders. For this reason new recruits are more often found in Former Military or those already in the Police Force.

Those who are not allied with Mayan Eye yet practice magick are usually arrested, have their memory wiped, or if possible, have some form of allegiance formed.

All chapters of Mayan Eye answer to its head director, Director FOX, a male Feral Fox who lives inside of a Magical Nexus within the various NYC Mayan Eye Offices, 24/7

Mayan Eye was named after ancient temples and carvings in South America that many theorize have to do with the origin of Weres.

Every agent of Mayan Eye is given a few tools of the trade which are familiar to most law enforcement agencies. Guns, Badges, a Police Car, and Handcuffs.

However, Mayan Eye also makes use of the magick it studies and tries to keep out of civilian hands.

The badge of a Mayan Eye officer displays the standard Police Emblem with the caring of the agent’s codename upon it. Early on a Paw Print shaped badge was used instead of the Police Emblem, but it was retired due to criminals and civilians alike often refusing to recognize a “Fuzzy Face” symbol as one of authority

Mayan Eye codes names are usually a three letter long acronym and pronounced as if they were a word. Sometimes in conversation and records, it is spelt the way it’s said. For example Jeffrey Eades’ codename is “STG” for “Sensational Tiger Girl”, but the codename is said aloud as“Styg” and in stories is written as such as an aid for the reader.

The most remarkable thing about a Mayan Eye Badge is that it actually opens up as a pocket spell book, where instructions to perform magick are written in a langauge that only the person who’s badge this is can read, and even then, only in their Were form.

Finally, Mayan Eye agents may carry “Obsidian Tablets” or “Black Tablets”, to aid with their arrests. These are a solution that if swallowed reverts a Were to human form and knocks them out. What exactly they’re made of is on a need to know basis to avoid similar concoctions ending up on the black market.

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'''Other Factions'''
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'''Alleycats-''' A local gang of small-time players in the New York area, a group of outcasts who help Were Runaways from difficult situations back on their feet. Often recruited by larger gangs for small jobs requiring a degree of plausible deniability.

Only cats may join, but all kinds may receive their assistance.

The Alleycats are often quite hedonistic in nature, rarely making enough noise to get DMA attention, and that is not by mistake.

'''Department of Manimal Affairs-''' The Department of Manimal Affairs is a sub-group, they share their offices with most police stations or house them close to police stations. Due to how recent Were phenomenon is, some counties and even states don’t have a DMA at all. For this reason DMA Agents have more lax jurisdiction limits than regular police. It is the DMA’s job to not only educate the public on misconceptions revolving around Weres, but to investigate any crime relating to Weres. Sometimes the DMA works with the Human Police, if it is deemed necessary.

Though it’s not help human police are typically proud of needing from a “Freak.”

Due to it being the 20’s and all, the DMA does not provide any form of welfare or social service for Weres. It spreads information the Government wants known about.

'''Klu Klux Klan-''' The KKK was founded in 1915 by William Joseph Simmons and whose mainstream popularity is thanks to the film “Birth Of A Nation”, much like their real world counterparts. The only difference is that they are far more weaponized than real life counterparts and consider the Were condition to be a “Plague upon the white man.”

Sadly much like real life, many police look the other way when it comes to these folks simply because there are too many who think highly of them.

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'''Stories'''
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1924
*[[User:Hawl/The Strange Case Of Jeffrey Eades|The Strange Case of Jeffrey Eades]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''

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'''Non-Canon Stories'''
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'''Legal'''
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Mayan Eye was created by Jessica Kylie “HawlSera” Nichols-Vernon and MatthiasRat in 2012

The setting is owned by HawlSera under the Creative Commons License.
All Related Stories and Characters are owned by the writers who came up with them

[[Category:Mayan Eye]] [[Category: Setting]]

Transformation Story Archive

2009-02-09T23:43:28Z

Xodiac: Changed hyphens to emdashes, updated a date.

The '''Transformation Story Archive''' (TSA) was a website archiving amateur fiction featuring a personal physical transformation or its aftermath. The archive was created by Austrian web designer Thomas Hassan, who intended it to be a premier showcase for transformation-themed fiction and a showcase for amateur authors. The TSA was operating at least as early as May of 1995,<ref name="thestart">{{cite web| url=http://transform.to/~tsa-faq/index.html| title=Transformation Story Archive Mailing List FAQ Table of Contents Version 4.2| accessdate=2006-10-01| date=May 15, 2002| first=Doug| last= Linger}}</ref> leading to claims of being the earliest Internet archive for fiction of this genre.
__TOC__
==Background==
Although a wide variety of transformations were considered suitable content for inclusion, transgender and furry wish-fulfillment stories predominated. The archive's community also created or fostered a large number of shared universe fiction settings, in part due to a prohibition against traditional fanfiction. One of the biggest of these, [[The Blind Pig|Tales from the Blind Pig]], was represented by hundreds of stories contributed by dozens of authors over the life of the archive. Some stories on the archive contained controversial themes, such as age regression or overtly sexual content.

During its heyday, the TSA inspired the creation of countless similar sites, often with narrower focuses. Its high volume of amateur fiction also led to its inclusion in lists of ezines, although it was never actually structured in that manner. In 1997, eSCENE, an annual award anthology for works first published in ezines, invited nominations from the TSA, and considered 17 such stories, the most from any single source.<ref>{{cite web| url=http://www.necoffee.com/escene/king/nominated.html| title=eSCENE 1997 Nominated Stories| year=1997| accessdate=2006-10-03}}</ref> Fiction written in the TSA's shared universes have at times also been accepted in unrelated online anthologies.<ref>{{cite web| url=http://www.anthrozine.com/index.html| title=Welcome to ANTHRO #7!| accessdate=2006-10-01| year=2006}} — specifically "A Good Run of Luck" and "A Tale of Sand and Ice"</ref> Its content has been cited as inspiration or influence by others in the genres the archive included, from the USENET community that pioneered modern therianthropy<ref>{{cite web| url=http://www.bears.org/~raven/ahwwfaq/ahwwfaq09.html| title=Frequently Asked Questions for ''alt.horror.werewolves'' | accessdate=2006-10-02}}</ref> to creators of webcomics such as [[wikipedia:Zebra Girl|Zebra Girl]].<ref>{{cite web| url=http://zebragirl.keenspot.com/links.html| title=Zebra Girl | first=Joe| last= England| accessdate=2006-10-02}}</ref>

==History==
===Origin===
Sometime during the mid-1990's Thomas Hassan saw a need for an internet site to act as a showcase and archive for high-quality transformation fiction. By May of 1995<ref name="thestart"/> he had finished the design and brought the site online, hosted by the non-profit webhost public netbase/t0. Approximately a year later he created a companion mailing list for the archive – [[TSA-Talk]].<ref>{{cite web|url=http://transform.to/~tsa-faq/TSA_FAQ_Section_One.html#What|title=Transformation Story Archive Mailing List FAQ, Section One (Version 4.2)|accessdate=2008-01-05|date=May 15, 2002|first=Doug|last=Linger}}</ref>

===Controversy===
The success of the TSA accounted for a significant portion of the Internet traffic of its non-profit server in Vienna, run by hosting service public netbase/t0. A shift to the right in Austrian politics worked against the site and its host, however. Austrian Freedom Party (FPÖ) leader [[wikipedia:Jörg Haider|Jörg Haider]] selected "degenerate art" as one target for his party's political capital. By July of 1998, this included accusations of the acceptance and facilitation of child pornography against public netbase/t0.<ref>{{cite web| url=http://archive.salon.com/21st/feature/1998/08/06feature.html | publisher=Salon| title=Is it Sex or is it Art? | first=Janelle | last= Brown| date=1998-09-06| accessdate=2006-10-02}}</ref><ref>{{cite web| url=http://www.medialounge.net/lounge/workspace/crashhtml/cc/29.htm| publisher=Crash Media| title=Sex slaves to public opinion — Public Netbase kicks back...| first=Micz| last= Flor| date=1998-11-27| accessdate=2006-10-01}}</ref> Initially, the FPÖ explicitly alleged links between public netbase/t0 and a separate hosting service from the British Virgin Islands, but the sexual content of the TSA and its age-alteration themes was implicitly included when allegations continued after that connection was refuted. When the results of these attacks stripped its host of public funding and free access, the TSA hastily relocated to an American server, assisted by several mirror servers.

===The End===
However, the TSA would never recover as a community from the server relocation. The shift from Austrian to North American hosting led to the departure of Hassan from the project; he went on to join Austrian software developer Public Voice Lab, eventually earning a seat on their board.<ref>{{cite web| url=http://inspire.pvl.at/about/history/ | publisher=Public Voice Lab | title=The History of PUBLIC VOICE Lab | accessdate=2006-10-02}}</ref> Posting of new content to the archive finally stopped in [[wikipedia:July 2003|July 2003]] and the archive's users have largely moved to other websites or dropped from public view, although the site remains available as of February 2009. Much of the content has been redistributed, both during and after the TSA's active existence, however. Its sister-project [[TSA-Talk|mailing list]] has continued under separate administration long after the stagnation of the actual web archive, and an ezine continued for some years, hosted on the current TSA server (and still there for archival purposes). And, despite its long inactivity, the TSA remains on most lists of sources for furry, transgender, or transformation-themed fiction, and still receives occasional mention in wider indexes of online fiction sites.

In February, 2009 a vocal group on the TSA-Talk mailing list began agitating for someone to "take control" and restore the Archive to life. This was different than the discussions from before the founding of Shifti — in this case the people wanted to see a strictly editor controlled site. But this is not going to happen. Thomas Hassan has stated that the Archive is permanently closed to new submissions and will remain online as a "completed anthology".

==Successors==
At the end of 2006 several people began championing a new archive to replace the TSA, as the TSA had not been updated since the summer of 2003. During this discussion many ideas for how the new archive would work were discussed but nothing came of it. Approximately six months later the discussion began again and this time [[User:ShadowWolf|ShadowWolf]], taking his cue from a comment [[User:Bryan|Bryan]] had made setup a new account and installed the MediaWiki software on his server, providing the address "shifti.keil-draco.com" for the new site<ref>[[Shifti:History|The History of Shifti]]</ref>. Less than a week later [[User:Viqsi]] purchased the Shifti.org domain name and, while she retains control of it, has "donated" it to the site. The name "Shifti" had been chosen by [[User:Bryan|Bryan]] in 2005, shortly before the server that had hosted the TFNet IRC Network at menagerie.tf moved. That short lived Wiki had been based on the MoinMoin source code and has shown little growth. After opening to the public on the Eighteenth of July, 2007 the site began to grow.

==References==
<div class="references-small">
<references/>
</div>

== External links ==
*[http://tsa.transform.to/ Transformation Story Archive]
*[http://tsat.transform.to/ Transformation Stories, Art, Talk] — Online magazine
*[http://lists.integral.org/listinfo/tsa-talk TSA-Talk Mailing List] — Mailing List for the Transformation Story Archive
*[http://transform.to/~tsa-faq TSA-Talk FAQ] — FAQ for the TSA-Talk Mailing List

{{GFDL}}

Talk:Best of Shifti

2008-10-02T21:50:25Z

Xodiac: Added Xodiac's story permission

No, no, NO! Not that one! ANYTHING but that one!

Yea, sure, you can use it.

--Michael Bard, Oct 1/2008

Yes. I give full permission to use my story 'Gaia's Rain' in your Anthology.

Felix Sagittarius

Aka James Wolf
10/1 2008

Thank you both! ^^

--[[User:Devin|Devin]] 17:51, 1 October 2008 (EDT)

Meh. Feel free, so long as the publication process doesn't screw up the formatting.
--[[User:Viqsi|Viqsi]] 20:47, 1 October 2008 (EDT)

Go for it. [[User:Cubist|Cubist]] 01:07, 2 October 2008 (EDT)

I hereby give permission to use my story in exchange for a contributor copy of the anthology.
--[[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]] 14:50, 2 October 2008 (PDT)

Talk:Femtroopers

2007-12-31T01:42:18Z

Xodiac:

I really like the way this is going so far. The idea that in order to look relatively normal a man (well, a Vader anyway) will have to become female, would be a very hard decision to make. --[[User:JonBuck|Buck]] 21:49, 16 December 2007 (EST)

Great story, looking forward to seeing how it concludes. It's neat seeing sub-settings develop within Xanadu like this. Perhaps if they survive this current encounter the 501st could organize an Ewok brigade as specialized anti-Femtrooper forces. :) [[User:Bryan|Bryan]] 01:31, 20 December 2007 (EST)

Came across a picture that seems relevant to this story today... [http://www.myconfinedspace.com/?attachment_id=17547 Sexy Storm Trooper] or [http://www.myconfinedspace.com/2007/10/16/sexy-storm-trooper-with-darth-vader/sexy-storm-trooper-darth-vaderjpg/ Sexy Storm Trooper with Vader] -- [[User:ShadowWolf|ShadowWolf]] 16:41, 24 December 2007 (EST) (second link: [[User:ShadowWolf|ShadowWolf]] 18:06, 24 December 2007 (EST))

Couple more: [http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/sfgate/detail?blogid=3&entry_id=8393] [http://www.imagepoop.com/image/978/Female-Storm-Trooper.html] [http://www.sithvixen.com/starwars/femtrooper.html] [http://thegreatgeekmanual.com/blog/photo-gallery-storm-trooper-tribute] (that last one there has a full metric buttload of other Stormtroopers-in-everyday-life photos, the femtroopers are mixed in about two thirds of the way down the page). This link is supposedly a video about femtroopers, but it wasn't available when I clicked through: [http://bu.bulicio.us/entertainment/femtroopers-video/] [[User:Bryan|Bryan]] 18:11, 24 December 2007 (EST)

Comments? I haven't even finished yet! Twentyone Twentyeight was not originally part of this story's plot- she just showed up when I mentioned a Vader who'd been abducted. The 501st doesn't really get along well with Ewoks, but the suggestion has been passed on.

...Yep, that's what Femtroopers look like. More or less. I came across Bryan's first link there and just had to write a story about it. It's been a lot of fun, but I'm hoping that I can finish soon, before it becomes a saga. Here I have something I wrote when I couldn't sleep- it's not a story, I don't know what else to do with it.

Threats: Many of these overlap. Numerous threats incorporate aspects of each category without quite fitting, such as the Femtroopers, or else fit into several slots, such as SHODAN and her machinations.

Bombs. Sometimes a mechanical explosive device, sometimes organic. May be a rocket or jet whose ignition immolates everything on the ground, may be a device or creature or being which releases neurotoxin or some other deadly gas. Sometimes a bomber. Usually but not always random in purpose. May be connected to a Mastermind or a Cult. Examples: Bomberman, the Airplane Girls, GStu # 5. Recommended action: Clear the area before attempting to defuse the situation. It may be advisable to wait for someone more invulnerable.

Alterators: Individuals seeking to forcefully shape-change others. Occasionally fits “Mad Scientist” archetype. May be a Mastermind or working beneath one, may lead or work beneath a Cult. Sometimes the source of Plaguers, Rampagers, Minions. May be seeking to complete a Summoner ritual/treatment in order to make self into a Deity. Plan may begin and end with “Change everyone”, may be more complicated. Examples: SHODAN, Lord Ted, Dracula, MSue #315(“Tearvault”). Recommended action: Clear the area. Take out the Alterator from a distance; usually his or her death or incapacitation leads to a reversion of subjects.

Plaguers. Infectious and shape-changing. Destroys or suppresses minds of victims. Little leadership; exists only to spread and assimilate. Sometimes connected or related to Masterminds or Alterators, but usually not under their control. Examples: Zombies(all kinds), wild weres, “gray goo” nanobots. Recommended action: STAMP IT OUT. Violence is justified, few will complain. Stepping in early saves a lot of work later on.

Cults. A group united under a common purpose, generally sinister and active. Somewhat similar to Plaguers, spreading and recruiting new members. Harder to justify violence against. Victims may be subjects for Alterators, may seem to still be themselves, may have joined willingly or unwillingly, may be recoverable. Spreads, usually has a leader who may or may not be a Mastermind, often Summoners. Examples: SHODAN, the Fighting Fanboys, Rampant Catgirls, Dracula’s Brides. Recommended action: Observe. Trust in the Force.

Mastermind: Instigators of various forms of mayhem. Often behind Plagues and Rampagers and Bombs, occasionally Predators. Usually has Minions. May or may not be or command Alterators. Sometimes heads a Cult. Often has vague and nebulous goals such as “take over the world,” “become a god”, or “cover the Earth in darkness”, may be a Summoner. Examples: SHODAN, several incarnations of Lex Luthor, Dracula. Recommended action: Varies depending on circumstance. Trust the Force.

Rampagers: Individual goes insane or alternately is an unleashed beast or cybernetic creation, begins random wanton destruction. Individuals are often but not always shape-changed. Often related to Masterminds or Deities; similar to Minions but not under control. May be content to smash scenery, may be after random bystanders. Examples: Hulk and Hulk-Derivatives, Kool-Aid Man, beings afflicted by strains of Psycho Serum. Recommended action: Clear the area of bystanders, stay back. Restraint doesn’t really work. Better to wait it out and summon appropriate help.

Minions: Often mechanical or shapeshifted bystanders, but may be complicit. Usually directed by a Mastermind but occasionally are part of a Cult, similar to Rampagers but with a specific goal. Goal is usually to break or steal a specific item, sometimes to kidnap or deliver a message. May be alone, in a group, or near a Mastermind. Examples: Fully-transformed cyborgs belonging to SHODAN’s cult, Doombots, Dracula’s Brides. Recommended action: Usually best to thwart goal of Minions. Restraint is good; however, Minions often escape custody.
Note: if there is only one, it is highly dangerous and caution is strongly advised. If there are many, the Law of Conservation of Ninjitsu means they may be overpowered by squad’s efforts. Trust the Force.

Predators. Simplest of the lot. One being seeking to prey on others for a variety of reasons. May be an inept Mastermind, attempting to kill food, a thief, a rapist, a hitman or assassin… Somewhat like a Rampager, but after individuals. Difficult to detect normally, but Trouble Magnet Phlebotinium spurs them into action where and when they may be caught. Examples: More than can be easily counted. Recommended action: Stop the Predator. Restraint is preferable.

Summoners: Individual or individuals attempting to either grant themselves or another vast power or call forth something nasty. Trouble Magnet Phlebotinium means that patrols often encounter these during important rituals. Often related to Cults; by the time it gets this bad, intervention is a must. Sacrifices may be involved. Sometimes the goal or part of the goal of an Alterator or a Mastermind. Examples: MSue #2. Recommended action: Trust in the Force. Disrupting the wrong way or time may have catastrophic results. Save the sacrifice if possible. Sometimes it is necessary to let ritual proceed and only attack after completion; however, this may result in a Deity.

Deity: Some one or some thing with power far greater than enjoyed by members of the 501st. Often takes the form of a small child, an attractively feminine male, or a huge and hideous monster; however there are many, many others. You’ll know it when you see it. Often a very strong Rampager; may be a Xanadu native or the result of a Summoner’s efforts. Examples: Anything from DBZ, Bizarro Superman, Lobo, Sepiroth, MSue #2, etc. Recommended action: AVOID. Clear out bystanders if possible, but get out of the way. Can’t do anything to hurt it, even if it has a weak point. Something with a similar level of ability will be along soon and will stop it. Very rare, fortunately

Maybe I need to make a "common characters" page. Food for thought, anyway. - [[User:Joysweeper|Joysweeper]] 29 December 2007

I really rather like the concept, but I'm rather surprised you didn't have the Femtroopers capture James and we get to see a conversion. And not just because I enjoy TG stories, though I certainly do. But you're pointing out a lot of questions, and then not answering them. While this is a great in-depth look at the characters and the slightly desperate struggle against encroaching Femtrooping of the 501st, it suffers from this lack. It would have made for an interesting story to have the main character Femtrooper'd, and we see what those disadvantages that officer wondered about are, not to mention see the process by which they change people into one of their own. And maybe we could watch James try to bring down the Femtroopers from within their own ranks. As it is, this isn't so much a story as a long firefight with some character issues added in. The idea is good but the potential is mostly unused, I think. -- [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]] 18:30, 30 December 2007 (EST)

Where's the Beef?

2007-09-18T23:58:24Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I work when I want to, not by any schedule. Still, I thought, looking at the Elvis clock on the wall swinging its hips, it was about time.

I took a long breath, then opened the store. Someplace in some mall somewhere a vacant stall was being replaced with the distinct storefront of Spells 'R' Us.

It's not usually more than a few minutes before someone who fits all my requirements comes by, and today was no different. Not ten minutes after I moved the store a young man walked in. He looked like a football linebacker: tall and broad, with brown hair and blue eyes and pretty good looks. If he was the quarterback he'd have more women than he could handle. As it is he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting a date. Probably took them for granted.

Perfect.

I watched on the security monitor (a mundane one — why use magic for absolutely everything?) for a few minutes as he browsed. Sometimes I come out of the back nearly immediately, but I felt like playing with this one. What should I make of him, I wondered. A cheerleader in love with his current best friend? No, too cliche. A little girl too young for grade school, much less college? Hm, perhaps. Or what about an old woman? I haven't done that in a while.

In the end I decided to wait. Sometime things make what to do obvious, like two days ago when three seniors entered making nasty coments about Ricky Martin. The three freshman girls who left were much more appreciative. But here nothing was really suggesting itself here. Time to go up front.

As I emerged from the doorway I moved my fingers in the subtle movement that would activate the Knowledge spell. Everything I needed to know flooded into my brain in an instant. "Hello, Robert. What can I do for you today?" The spell had told me that already, but it's not good to show too much knowledge you're not supposed to have too soon. It scares the customers away, and that's no fun.

"How did you know...?" the young man — he was indeed a linebacker — asked in the usual puzzled tone.

"I'm a wizard, of course." You'd think more people would recognize my robe for what it is. "You don't think a place like this would be run by anything less, do you?"

"Uh... right."

He thinks I'm crazy, or at least playing around. I decided it was time to blow his mind. A little earlier than usual, but what the heck. "So what do you need? A love potion to get that girl you want? Or, no, wait. You already have Alice." Robert's eyes went wide. "What about a present for her? Her birthday is coming up, I understand." His mouth opened in an O of surprise. "Or... wait, I have it. You need a costume!"

Robert's mouth dropped wide open. "But... but.. how did you know that?! I mean... ''how?''"

I smiled, feeling a warm glow deep inside me. I ''live'' for that moment.
But it was time to back off a little; the bait was hooked, but he hasn't quite bitten yet and I could still scare off the fish if I wasn't careful.

"The party's not a new thing. Surely you don't think I didn't know about it from other customers?" He was the first customer for this party, of course, but he'd never know that.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I need a costume for the frat party. But the other stores just have crap like pirates and rabbits and stuff. I was hoping for something more interesting, like a lizardman or something."

"Well, if you want interesting, you've certainly come to the right place. Let me go in back and see what I have in your size. Wait here."

I stepped back through the door. My office had been replaced with the enormous storeroom — the man who invented the Roaming Portal spell was a genius — and the costume section was nearby. Everything was nearby, really, including the costume I had in mind for him.

"Here you go," I said as I re-entered the shop. "I'm afraid this is all I had in your size. It's a minotaur costume."

"A minotaur, huh? That's a bull mixed with a human, right?" Robert asked as he took the bundle from my arms and looked at the mask.

"Pretty much, although in this case it's a cow." I shrugged apologetically, feeling anything but.

Robert's shot his gaze around to me. "A ''cow?'' I can't wear that!"

"Why not? Aren't there prizes for not being recognized? Heck, nobody would even suspect you in that thing! It molds to your body and your body to it; any misplaced bulk will be hidden perfectly. Not that I expect there to be much of that," I said, making sure he noticed me eying his body. I'd picked the costume partly because he was so big. It was too appropriate to resist. "And like I said, it's the only one your size anyway."

That did it. "Okay, how much?"

"Thirty bucks per day."

"That's not cheap," he pointed out.

"It's a good costume. Besides, you only need it tonight."

"True enough." The linebacker pulled out his wallet and counted out thirty dollars. "Here you go. See you tomorrow."

"Just a moment," I called out as I put the money in the register — another mundane item, although there's a few very nonstandard anti-burglary additions I put on it. "There's a few things you need to know."

"What's that?" Robert looked at the door, anxious to get going.

"There's a few rules you need to know. First—"

"Rules? For a costume?" He looked at me like I was insane. "That's stupid."

"That's how it is, my boy," I scolded. "Now, don't rip, break, or otherwise damage the costume in any way. At all." Harder than it sounds, since the club that comes with that minotauress is pretty fragile. "Don't wear it past ten tonight, and bring it in before 10 am tomorrow." That would force him to leave the party ridiculously early, and I knew Robert was not a morning person. "You can't have any alcohol while in the costume or for four hours afterwards." I rather doubted he'd be able to resist, at a frat party. "Don't stain it..." I continued like that for at least two minutes before letting him leave, costume in hand.

I let out a sharp bark of laughter as I returned to the office. Those rules were tedious and complicated. They're hard to pay attention to, much less follow appropriately. He'll be waking up tomorrow as a nice docile dairy cow named Bertha.

The next day I opened in the same mall. I wanted to see my handiwork.

"Hey, wizard! Here you go! Where are you?"

It was Robert! He wasn't a cow at all! I rushed out from the back.

"Oh, hi," he called as he saw me. Then he paused. "What's wrong?" I realized I was staring at him as he set the costume on the counter.

"I, uh..." I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible! "Surprised to see you here, is all."

"Why? I needed to get this back before ten, you said. So here you go." He pushed the bundle at me.

Of course! That has to be it. "Did you even wear it?"

"Oh, sure. Wow, that thing is great. Really made me look like a minotaur woman. Felt like it, too. I even had to piss sitting down!"
Robert shook his head, grinning. "That was an experience, let me tell you."

He wore it? And he's still here? "You stayed away from cigars? No grass eating? No alcohol, milk, or beef? You didn't wear anything other than what came with the costume? You didn't dance?"

Robert shook his head at each question. "No, of course not. You told me not to. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's follow directions."

I looked at him, speechless. He followed the directions.

"I admit, it was hard," he continued when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "I mean, it was a pretty boring party with all those restrictions."

I just stared. He followed the directions!

The young man fidgeted and averted his gaze from me. "I had to leave early, and went to sleep before midnight in order to get here on time."

I can't believe he followed the directions!

"Look, are you all right? Not having a heart attack or anything, are you?"

"No... it's just... Um. Never mind, go home. Have fun. You deserve it."
I scooped up the costume and strode towards the back. By the time I got back to the monitors he was gone.

I dropped by the storeroom and carefully put the costume back on the rack. Then I closed the shop, although not in the normal way. Instead I went to the front and exited the front door, locking it behind me.

There's a good bar in this mall, I knew. Time for a good stiff drink.

<comments />

{{author endnote|Spells 'R' Us — or SRU, as it's commonly called — started as a one-shot story but quickly grew into a major story setting. Actually, it's not so much a setting as a common plot element. The nameless old man who runs the shop transformed people into various things, usually by means of what he sells them. In the beginning there were a good many stories where people bought costumes for Halloween parties and the like and would be turned into their costumes, but after a while the setting pretty much narrowed down to the old man turning boys into bimbos. Transgender transformations are all well and good, but this was my effort to remind people that there once was more to the setting, and there still could be.

It was also my little jab at the setting itself, because everything always seemed to go exactly as the old man planned it. But people are people, and even magic can't account for every possibility. The people who were transformed usually "deserved" what happened to them because they didn't listen to the directions the old man gave them for the merchandise they bought, or they listened but discounted them as foolish. But what would happen if someone ''did'' pay attention, and actually made the effort? Surely it happens every now and then.

There's some debate as to whether the old man is malicious or just a prankster with a malicious sense of humor. As you can see from this story, I take the latter view.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Spells_R_Us]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Where's the Beef?}}

Where's the Beef?

2007-09-18T23:56:47Z

Xodiac: added author's comments

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I work when I want to, not by any schedule. Still, I thought, looking at the Elvis clock on the wall swinging its hips, it was about time.

I took a long breath, then opened the store. Someplace in some mall somewhere a vacant stall was being replaced with the distinct storefront of Spells 'R' Us.

It's not usually more than a few minutes before someone who fits all my requirements comes by, and today was no different. Not ten minutes after I moved the store a young man walked in. He looked like a football linebacker: tall and broad, with brown hair and blue eyes and pretty good looks. If he was the quarterback he'd have more women than he could handle. As it is he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting a date. Probably took them for granted.

Perfect.

I watched on the security monitor (a mundane one — why use magic for absolutely everything?) for a few minutes as he browsed. Sometimes I come out of the back nearly immediately, but I felt like playing with this one. What should I make of him, I wondered. A cheerleader in love with his current best friend? No, too cliche. A little girl too young for grade school, much less college? Hm, perhaps. Or what about an old woman? I haven't done that in a while.

In the end I decided to wait. Sometime things make what to do obvious, like two days ago when three seniors entered making nasty coments about Ricky Martin. The three freshman girls who left were much more appreciative. But here nothing was really suggesting itself here. Time to go up front.

As I emerged from the doorway I moved my fingers in the subtle movement that would activate the Knowledge spell. Everything I needed to know flooded into my brain in an instant. "Hello, Robert. What can I do for you today?" The spell had told me that already, but it's not good to show too much knowledge you're not supposed to have too soon. It scares the customers away, and that's no fun.

"How did you know...?" the young man — he was indeed a linebacker — asked in the usual puzzled tone.

"I'm a wizard, of course." You'd think more people would recognize my robe for what it is. "You don't think a place like this would be run by anything less, do you?"

"Uh... right."

He thinks I'm crazy, or at least playing around. I decided it was time to blow his mind. A little earlier than usual, but what the heck. "So what do you need? A love potion to get that girl you want? Or, no, wait. You already have Alice." Robert's eyes went wide. "What about a present for her? Her birthday is coming up, I understand." His mouth opened in an O of surprise. "Or... wait, I have it. You need a costume!"

Robert's mouth dropped wide open. "But... but.. how did you know that?! I mean... ''how?''"

I smiled, feeling a warm glow deep inside me. I ''live'' for that moment.
But it was time to back off a little; the bait was hooked, but he hasn't quite bitten yet and I could still scare off the fish if I wasn't careful.

"The party's not a new thing. Surely you don't think I didn't know about it from other customers?" He was the first customer for this party, of course, but he'd never know that.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I need a costume for the frat party. But the other stores just have crap like pirates and rabbits and stuff. I was hoping for something more interesting, like a lizardman or something."

"Well, if you want interesting, you've certainly come to the right place. Let me go in back and see what I have in your size. Wait here."

I stepped back through the door. My office had been replaced with the enormous storeroom — the man who invented the Roaming Portal spell was a genius — and the costume section was nearby. Everything was nearby, really, including the costume I had in mind for him.

"Here you go," I said as I re-entered the shop. "I'm afraid this is all I had in your size. It's a minotaur costume."

"A minotaur, huh? That's a bull mixed with a human, right?" Robert asked as he took the bundle from my arms and looked at the mask.

"Pretty much, although in this case it's a cow." I shrugged apologetically, feeling anything but.

Robert's shot his gaze around to me. "A ''cow?'' I can't wear that!"

"Why not? Aren't there prizes for not being recognized? Heck, nobody would even suspect you in that thing! It molds to your body and your body to it; any misplaced bulk will be hidden perfectly. Not that I expect there to be much of that," I said, making sure he noticed me eying his body. I'd picked the costume partly because he was so big. It was too appropriate to resist. "And like I said, it's the only one your size anyway."

That did it. "Okay, how much?"

"Thirty bucks per day."

"That's not cheap," he pointed out.

"It's a good costume. Besides, you only need it tonight."

"True enough." The linebacker pulled out his wallet and counted out thirty dollars. "Here you go. See you tomorrow."

"Just a moment," I called out as I put the money in the register — another mundane item, although there's a few very nonstandard anti-burglary additions I put on it. "There's a few things you need to know."

"What's that?" Robert looked at the door, anxious to get going.

"There's a few rules you need to know. First—"

"Rules? For a costume?" He looked at me like I was insane. "That's stupid."

"That's how it is, my boy," I scolded. "Now, don't rip, break, or otherwise damage the costume in any way. At all." Harder than it sounds, since the club that comes with that minotauress is pretty fragile. "Don't wear it past ten tonight, and bring it in before 10 am tomorrow." That would force him to leave the party ridiculously early, and I knew Robert was not a morning person. "You can't have any alcohol while in the costume or for four hours afterwards." I rather doubted he'd be able to resist, at a frat party. "Don't stain it..." I continued like that for at least two minutes before letting him leave, costume in hand.

I let out a sharp bark of laughter as I returned to the office. Those rules were tedious and complicated. They're hard to pay attention to, much less follow appropriately. He'll be waking up tomorrow as a nice docile dairy cow named Bertha.

The next day I opened in the same mall. I wanted to see my handiwork.

"Hey, wizard! Here you go! Where are you?"

It was Robert! He wasn't a cow at all! I rushed out from the back.

"Oh, hi," he called as he saw me. Then he paused. "What's wrong?" I realized I was staring at him as he set the costume on the counter.

"I, uh..." I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible! "Surprised to see you here, is all."

"Why? I needed to get this back before ten, you said. So here you go." He pushed the bundle at me.

Of course! That has to be it. "Did you even wear it?"

"Oh, sure. Wow, that thing is great. Really made me look like a minotaur woman. Felt like it, too. I even had to piss sitting down!"
Robert shook his head, grinning. "That was an experience, let me tell you."

He wore it? And he's still here? "You stayed away from cigars? No grass eating? No alcohol, milk, or beef? You didn't wear anything other than what came with the costume? You didn't dance?"

Robert shook his head at each question. "No, of course not. You told me not to. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's follow directions."

I looked at him, speechless. He followed the directions.

"I admit, it was hard," he continued when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "I mean, it was a pretty boring party with all those restrictions."

I just stared. He followed the directions!

The young man fidgeted and averted his gaze from me. "I had to leave early, and went to sleep before midnight in order to get here on time."

I can't believe he followed the directions!

"Look, are you all right? Not having a heart attack or anything, are you?"

"No... it's just... Um. Never mind, go home. Have fun. You deserve it."
I scooped up the costume and strode towards the back. By the time I got back to the monitors he was gone.

I dropped by the storeroom and carefully put the costume back on the rack. Then I closed the shop, although not in the normal way. Instead I went to the front and exited the front door, locking it behind me.

There's a good bar in this mall, I knew. Time for a good stiff drink.

<comments />

{{author endnote|Spells 'R' Us — or SRU, as it's commonly called — started as a one-shot story but quickly grew into a major story setting. Actually, it's not so much a setting as a common plot element. The nameless old man who runs the shop transformed people into various things, usually by means of what he sells them. In the beginning there were a good many stories where people bought costumes for Halloween parties and the like and would be turned into their costumes, but after a while the setting pretty much narrowed down to the old man turning boys into bimbos. Transgender transformations are all well and good, but this was my effort to remind people that there once was more to the setting, and there still could be.

It was also my little jab at the setting itself, because everything always seemed to go exactly as the old man planned it. But people are people, and even magic can't account for every possibility. The people who were transformed usually "deserved" what happened to them because they didn't listen to the directions the old man gave them for the merchandise they bought, or they listened but discounted them as foolish. But what would happen if someone ''did'' pay attention, and actually made the effort?

There's some debate as to whether the old man is malicious or just a prankster with a malicious sense of humor. As you can see from this story, I take the latter view.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Spells_R_Us]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Where's the Beef?}}

Ten Seconds

2007-09-18T22:36:45Z

Xodiac: added author's comments

==by [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I stand upon the edge, looking down. It's a long drop. A quarter mile, I'm told. Quite a ways to fall.

I don't back away.

I raise my arm before me, and see not the gangly human arms I see in the mirror every day, belonging to a too-tall man with a too-long face and scraggly hair. I see a wing, ready to make my body soar.

To fly...

I am not high. I am not drunk. I am not insane. I have thought about this, long and hard. I read a book not long ago; they mention that once a body hits terminal velocity, it would seem like the earth is moving quickly towards it, rather than the other way around. Freefall.

What else is flight but that? A split second of pain, an unmeasurable instant of agony, is worth ten seconds of that kind of freedom, I think.

It's the only freedom I'm likely to get. I feel trapped, caged by my life like an exotic bird from the Amazon. A dead-end job, a dead-end family, a dead-end life. Nobody knows me, no matter how often I told them or how loud I shouted it out. My potential is unrealized. What it is potential for, I don't know, but surely I had some. Had, past tense.

Again I look over the edge. I can see clearly all the way down, make out the ripples on the river that winds its way through the canyon. It's beautiful, and I take a moment to admire the scene.

I click my beak, considering, and leap before I can think it over again. I spread my wings, and fly.

For ten seconds.

<comments />

{{author endnote|I'm not prone to depression, but it does hit every now and then. This time, obviously, it was worse than most. I really was feeling somewhat suicidal when I wrote this, and I thought at the time jumping would be probably the best way to go. Writing this helped get it out of my system, and it's turned into one of my favorite stories. Very, very short, of course, but it's fine for such a moody piece. <p>

Interestingly, I did the calculations to see how far someone would fall in ten seconds. Turns out to be about half a kilometer. And yes, there are cliffs on earth with that long a vertical drop.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Ten Seconds}}

Stable Home Life

2007-09-18T21:59:16Z

Xodiac: added author's comments

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I looked around my new apartment feeling very pleased with myself. The area had been a farm in a previous life, but encroaching civilization had forced the previous owner to sell the property. There was new construction where fields had been, and the barn had been converted to living space. It still had some of the feel of a barn, though, the apartments laid out in a very organized manner that reminded me of stalls and rough planks and beams visible instead of the more finished look of most apartments. I loved it; the place had character.

Amazingly for a new apartment, it came fully furnished. As far as I was concerned that was absolutely perfect. I had only signed the lease last week and had already moved my meager possessions in and unpacked most of them. Rex, my cat, had been the last to arrive, getting here yesterday. He was busy rubbing himself on everything in sight. I could just imagine, "Mine! Mine! That too! And that! All mine!" going through his kitty mind.

"Am I the first to move in?" I asked the manager. She was a sweet old lady who barely came to my elbow. I had to keep an eye out since I constantly felt like I'd step on her if I wasn't careful.

"Oh my, no," she said. "In fact, you're one of the last."

"The miracle of modern advertising," I said, grinning. We both chuckled at the joke; her advertising consisted of a sign outside reading, "Vacant apartments available."

"You need anything, just let me know," she said one more time. She was actually getting on my nerves that way, but I just nodded. It seemed to satisfy her and she left.

I spent the next few hours getting the last of my things unpacked. I put the last of my book collection on the shelves in the spare room. I owned a lot of books; they covered most of the wall space. The shelves were one of the few pieces of furniture I'd needed to bring into the apartment when I moved in. Luckily, they were one of the few pieces I owned, along with the television. Dorm life makes people frugal in their furnishings.

After dinner I settled down in my favorite chair with one of those books. The cable still wasn't turned on, so it was either that or just go to bed, and I much preferred reading if I was able.

It was hard to concentrate, though. There was a loud thumping coming from one of the apartments next door. It sounded like someone was stomping as hard as they could on the hardwood floors. "Dancer?" I mumbled to myself. If that was it she was the clumsiest dancer on the planet, or maybe it was one of those modern things. I tried to figure out how long this had been going on, to estimate when it might stop, but it was tricky. I'd made a lot of noise of my own shoving the boxes of books into here and putting them on the shelves. It was silent when the manager had left, I knew that, but otherwise I couldn't guess.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Keep it down, willya?"

There was no change, though. Actually, there was. A second later the sound was being duplicated from the apartment on the other side.
Swearing, I got up and went into the main hallway.

"Hey!" I shouted, pounding on the door of the first noisy apartment.
"I'm trying to read, man!" No success even then. I stood there, fuming, for several minutes. "Fine! I'm getting the manager to register a complaint!" I said as I turned to go.

By the time I got to the exit the building was utterly silent.

I swore again and headed back to my books. No reason to bother her if she wasn't needed. Still, I wondered if this was such a great place after all.

It was quiet after that. I heard not a sound from the other apartments, which allowed me to immerse myself deeply into my book. It was an old favorite of mine that I'd had for several years and read at a dozen times. I read it straight through, making it a baker's dozen. It was dark by the time I finished, and Rex had curled up on the back of the chair. My feet had gone to sleep, too. I closed the book with a satisfied sigh and rubbed them to get some feeling back.

And stopped. "What the...?" I mumbled. They felt very odd. I lifted one to look, and gasped. The thing was huge, misshapen. My foot had somehow pulled out of the shoe that couldn't hope to contain it, and my toenails were dark and huge.

I wriggled my foot again, and it moved. It was my foot all right. But it couldn't be! I tried to stand, but immediately fell back into the chair. I couldn't seen to put my foot flat on the ground. "Ok, think... think!" Maybe this was some sort of infection. But it had developed so fast! Besides, it didn't actually hurt, it was just kind of numb, with a bit of tingling on my shins where this... whatever it was ended. But if not an infection, then what?

I looked down at my foot again, hoping to get some better idea, and got the second shock of the evening. It actually looked worse now, if that were possible. My toenails had grown to cover my entire toes, and had actually fused a bit at the back into one mass. A cautious scrape against the rug revealed that I could still feel through it, although the sensations were dulled a bit. And the foot had elongated terribly, and looked thinner as well.

Once more I tried to stand. I had to get to a phone, call the ambulance or something. But that was in the kitchen. I'd only needed one phone in the dorm, and hadn't gotten an extension yet. "Damn!" I cursed as I teetered on my mutant toes. I took a hesitant step, then another, and then fell back once more into the chair.

"Ow! Dammit!" That hurt! It felt like I landed on a rock or something! I twisted around to look accusingly at the chair, but it was innocent. It was still nicely padded and rock-free. A quick feel of my butt, though, revealed something growing there.

A tail. "Oh my god..." I felt around, through the fabric of my pants.
They were starting to get tight, actually, pressed from the rear by my impossible new appendage. I moaned and started to unbuckle my belt when I noticed that my hands were getting numb now as well.

I could only stare silently. They looked like my feet. The nails had grown, turned black, and I had no doubt they'd start to merge together in a minute. My palms had elongated and thinned. I noticed white hair growing on them, and a quick check confirmed it was growing on my feet as well now.

My pants were painfully tight now, and so was my shirt. With every inward breath it seemed to grow tighter, and I could do nothing but moan as I watched the buttons grow taut. Through the space between I could see my chest, covered in white fur.

"Help me! Somebody help meeeee!" But my plea devolved into a meaningless whinny. I could see my nose growing, now, no doubt changing into that of a horse. Rex woke up at my cry and gave a terrified screech of his own before running to hide under my bed. I hardly blamed him.

My clothes began to rip at the seams, finally giving me some relief. I could feel my hips changing, and managed to roll over the side of the chair before sitting because too painful. I landed on all fours, and couldn't get up again. My new tail whipped about, and the last of my shredded clothing fell down around me. And yet... I still wore something. I hadn't noticed as it appeared -- there had been too much happening at once -- but I could feel something around my head. Straps of some sort ran down the length of my face and over the back of my head. A bridle, I realized suddenly. It was still too large for me, but in a minute or two it'd fit fine, I was willing to bet. My face was still expanding, after all.

My vision started getting blurry. Or... wait. No. It was my apartment! Everything, the wall, the floor, even my own books, started to get blurry and fade away, to be replaced by... a stable. Of course.
Dammit, this couldn't be happening! I whinnied loudly again and lunged for the door. It had become an ordinary stall door, and there was no chance of opening it when my hands had turned into hooves. I turned to get space for a good running leap, and bumped up against another wall.
The entire space had shrunk on me! I really was in a horse's stall!

Oddly, the only thing I could think of was to hope Rex was still okay, wherever he was.

{{Separator|stars}}

The manager sighed as she poured herself a cup of tea. She glanced towards the barn; she could still hear the frightened screams of her new horse. He'd get used to it, she thought. They others had.

It had been a stroke of genius to go into business this way, she mused.
Spending a few dozen dollars on some herbs and a few hours preparation was so much cheaper than buying a horse for a few hundred. A simple illusion of new housing would always bring somebody in. Illusionary addresses made it untraceable, too; even if they did tell friends or relatives or even the government where they were moving to, they'd never be found.

"Here kitty," she called to the hallway. Rex hissed at her and ran to another room. She just shrugged. Rex would get used to his new home too, in time. Or she could give him to somebody, if that didn't work.
But she was confident it would.

The manager sipped her tea. More sugar, she thought, and reached for the jar.

<comments />

{{author endnote|This story came about as a result of a picture an online friend of mine showed me of a man looking very startled and upset as he changed into a horse, a bridle appearing out of thin air around his distorted face, his feet already changed into hooves. The guy was sitting in a chair, in a study, and had obviously been reading when this started happening. The picture showed the scene so well that I felt it needed the whole story told. <p>

But while I greatly enjoyed the picture, I'm not all that fond of the story it inspired me to write. There's a type of transformation story called "transporn," which has nothing to do with sex. It simply means that the transformation ''is'' the story. Any elements of plot and character are added only to give the story a character to transform and a reason for it to happen to him. Once the change is done, so is the story. And that's exactly what this is. I try harder, these days, to find some plot more than, "Oh crap, I'm transforming!"}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Equine]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Stable Home Life}}

User:Xodiac

2007-09-18T08:49:11Z

Xodiac:

Xodiac has been a reader and writer of transformation fiction since 1997.

==Stories==

*[[Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, two people must dodge someone trying to kill them even as they try to come to grips with their new bodies — and the new feelings they suddenly have for each other.

*[[Free]]
:Even the most overwhelming grief can be overcome, with the help of the right visitor.

*[[The Fugitive]]
:The men with guns are coming. It's time to fight or flee.

*[[Loving Halloween]]
:The grass is always greener on the other side, as one man discovers while doing a little above-age trick-or-treating.

*[[Refamiliarization]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, a man goes to Kubla Con as his RPG character, and finds he didn't get off quite as easy as he'd thought.

*[[Replay]]
:Set in [[User:Posti|Bob Stein's]] [[:Category:Walk-A-Mile|Walk-a-Mile]] universe, one patron stops in a strange new store, where he just might find exactly what he needs.

*[[Stable Home Life]]
:A tenant finds that his new digs aren't quite the great deal he thought they were.

*[[Ten Seconds]]
:A short mood piece, brief enough that a summary would essentially spoil it.

*[[Where's the Beef?]]
:Set in Bill Hart's [[:Category:Spells_R_Us|Spells 'R' Us]] setting, a frat brother goes to the wrong place for a costume. Somebody's sure in for a surprise!

[[Category:Author]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Xodiac}}

User:Xodiac

2007-09-18T08:48:24Z

Xodiac:

Xodiac has been a reader and writer of transformation fiction since 1997.

==Stories==

*[[Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, two people must dodge someone trying to kill them even as they try to come to grips with their new bodies — and the new feelings they suddenly have for each other.

*[[Free]]
:Even the most overwhelming grief can be overcome, with the help of the right visitor.

*[[The Fugitive]]
:The men with guns are coming. It's time to fight or flee.

*[[Loving Halloween]]
:The grass is always greener on the other side, as one man discovers while doing a little above-age trick-or-treating.

*[[Refamiliarization]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, a man goes to Kubla Con as his RPG character, and finds he's locked himself into a new career.

*[[Replay]]
:Set in [[User:Posti|Bob Stein's]] [[:Category:Walk-A-Mile|Walk-a-Mile]] universe, one patron stops in a strange new store, where he just might find exactly what he needs.

*[[Stable Home Life]]
:A tenant finds that his new digs aren't quite the great deal he thought they were.

*[[Ten Seconds]]
:A short mood piece, brief enough that a summary would essentially spoil it.

*[[Where's the Beef?]]
:Set in Bill Hart's [[:Category:Spells_R_Us|Spells 'R' Us]] setting, a frat brother goes to the wrong place for a costume. Somebody's sure in for a surprise!

[[Category:Author]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Xodiac}}

Replay

2007-09-18T08:46:31Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

Chris was glad to be out of the store, even if it was only for lunch.
He was so tired of being behind the counter; he much preferred to be the customer. And burritos had lost all their charm a while ago. The pizza joint a few stores down made better food. He was thinking of looking for a new job, too; it was as monotonous as the food. The only benefit was that it paid the bills, usually.

His pace slowed as he passed the new store between the two restaurants. It must have finally opened up while he was off for the weekend. "Walk a Mile," he read aloud, and looked in the window. Used shoes. "Oh, good grief," he said, rolling his eyes at the joke.

He paused, then went in. His sneakers were getting rather threadbare; perhaps he could find some cheap replacements. ''As if I could afford any other kind,'' he thought, and snorted.

"Hello, young man," a friendly woman's voice called out as he entered.
A short, shabby-looking woman put a pair of shoes on a shelf and nodded a welcome at him. "You're one of our first customers! Feel free to try any of these on."

Chris glanced at his graying hair in the mirror behind the counter.
''Young man?'' he mused. ''She's hardly older than I, and I'm pushing fifty!'' He nodded politely in response and started browsing the shelves.

The variety of shoes available was amazing. There were pumps and stiletto heels, baby shoes and sneakers of all types. They were not well organized, however. Dance shoes and loafers and even a pair of bunny slippers were all right next to each other. It looked like the stock were put on the shelves wherever there was space available.

In a way, however, the arrangement made a strange kind of sense. After all, where in a traditional footwear display would you catalog a full set of four horseshoes?

"See anything you like?" the dowdy little woman said from behind him, startling him.

"No, I'm just browsing." He walked a few feet down the short aisle and stopped cold. "Hey!"

"Ah, you ''do'' see something!"

Chris pointed at a pair of children's sneakers. They were a bright red, once, but the color had faded with time and what appeared to be rigorous use. The shoelaces were dirty and the fabric had a hole over the spot where the big toe went. "Where'd you get those? I had a pair just like them when I was seven!"

"It's mostly an exchange program," the proprietor said casually.
"Occasionally we just find pair that we feel meets our standards, though, and we put them up."

Chris picked up one of the shoes and looked it over carefully. "I loved mine, wore them until they were dead. In a sudden fit of nostalgia, he blurted, "I'll take them."

"Certainly, dear. Why don't you try them on, then?"

Chris looked at her oddly. She seemed entirely serious. "Lady, I can't wear these. They're made for a kid."

"I can size anything to fit, even those. Go ahead and try them on."

The woman was obviously batty, but he took a seat to humor her. One halfhearted try and he could get out of here. But the shoe fit perfectly. There was no effort to it at all. He stared at his foot, astonished.

"Now the other one," she prompted him. He was too stupefied to disobey. The second fit just as well as the first. "There now, I told you I could fit those."

Chris finally found his voice enough to mumble, "That is totally weird." He wriggled his toes in the sneakers, and had to restrain from giggling when he saw his big toe move through the hole.

"Our return policy is pretty lenient," the older woman told him. "You can try them out for a while, no cost to you. But if you walk more than a mile in them, they're yours."

He tried a few experimental steps around the store. They seemed to be working well enough. "Right. Fine. I'll be seeing you later." He waved to her absently as he walked out the door, lost in thought.

He'd only gone a few steps when he realized he'd never paid for the shoes. For that matter, he'd entirely forgotten about getting a real replacement pair. He put his hand in his pocket and turned around, then stopped suddenly. His wallet was gone. For that matter, so was the little shopping center.

He was still standing on a sidewalk. But instead of the line of closely packed stores was a row of small houses. Picket fences surrounded neatly manicured lawns that seemed somehow familiar.
Everything had changed, including, much to his dismay, himself.

He was a kid. "What the ''hell?''"

"Shh!" Came the hurried whisper from behind him. "Tessa will tell for sure if she hears you say that!"

"''What?''" Chris blurted as he whirled around. His younger sister had died eight years ago in a car crash, along with Jason. Her husband and his best friend. Who was standing in front of him, no older than himself.

"C'mon," the ghost said. "I don't want to be around her. You can never have any fun."

Chris didn't follow. ''You'll have fun enough with her in twelve or thirteen years. What the hell is going on?''

The answer was absolutely obvious, even if it was also absolutely impossible. He looked down at his feet. They ''had'' been his shoes, and somehow — Lord only knows how — he was seven again.

The woman's voice suddenly sounded inside his head. With the day's events he wasn't even sure if it was just a memory. "If you walk more than a mile in them, they're yours."

He could take the shoes off and return to the present. Or the future, depending. But that wasn't very appealing. He'd never gone to college. He'd gone to work for his father at the drugstore straight out of high school and drifted ever since from job to job. There'd been some good times, but such times were few and carefully regimented. He'd sold the years in order to exist, little more.

On the other hand, being seven wasn't especially inviting either.
Chris tried to remember what it had been like. No power at home. In to bed at eight, no questions. A meager allowance. A bike that could use a bit of work, and a pretty small group of friends. School. Rules, rules, and more rules.

But at least a seven-year-old had room to grow. He could ''do'' something with his life, this time.

"Hey, wait up!" he cried, running after his friend.

{{Separator|stars}}

In the shop, the worn-out sneakers he had been wearing disappeared from the floor, to reappear a moment later on the shelf. The old woman
smiled slightly and considered. They'd not be taken very quickly, with
a life such as that. But there was always someone out there willing to buy a fixer-upper.

<comments />

{{author endnote|I wrote this when I was feeling particularly down. I'm not prone to depression, but it hits everyone from time to time, and this was one of mine. I was stuck in a dead-end, do-nothing job, feeling my life was an utter waste. When I looked ahead at where I'd be at fifty, I saw... Chris. Except with my name. I wanted to a redo on my entire life. If I only knew then what I know now...

I'm not sure what made me do it this way. The Walk-a-Mile setting had been out for a while, so it's not like I read it and was suddenly inspired. I guess I remembered it and thought it'd be the perfect vehicle for such a change, but I don't recall exactly and I didn't make any notes about its origins when I sent it out.

In essence the story is wish-fulfillment, and so it's not surprising that it ends on an optimistic note. It also includes something I've grown to enjoy adding when I can manage it, the end-line zinger. While not my favorite story among those I've written, I still enjoy rereading it every now and then.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Walk-A-Mile]] [[Category:Age regression]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Replay}}

Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest

2007-09-18T08:35:41Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

"Hold up, Gary," I murmured softly. "I need to rest again."

His exasperated sigh was audible through both masks, his and mine. "The eyes?"

I nodded, and he guided me to a circular bench that enclosed a palm tree. Sitting was a blessed relief, although thanks to the outfit it was somewhat awkward.

I reminded myself that this costume wasn't a result of just my labor, it was also my concept and design. The idea had been to build costumes based on Robin Hood. He would be a robin, of course, and not a fox like the cartoon. Ultimately he would be accompanied by his band of merry men — most notably Friar Duck and Will a-Scarlet Macaw, along with anyone else I could think up a good avian related pun for. But those others hadn't been finished in time for Kubla Con.

One of Robin's companions ''had'' been finished, though. His lady love, Maid Marian. (She was a horse — ''mare''-ian. I thought it was a great pun, though few others got it without an explanation.)

The problem was, Marian's costume required a renaissance-style dress, and those suckers were heavy and very cumbersome. "Robin" was lucky; even though his sleeves were modified to look like wings, and he had to carry a bow and quiver (modified to be con-safe), the tunic and vest and hat that he wore were nothing compared to a dress, two skirts, a dress, and sleeves — all before adding the mask, gloves and shoes that made her a horse.

And who wore Maid Marian? Me, of course. I didn't presently have a girlfriend, or even know any women as friends well enough to ask them to wear it. Gary's frame was slender enough that he could have passed for female, but he did better as Robin. His small size made him more birdlike, anyway, whereas my frame could certainly be a better fit for a horse. I wasn't fat, mind you, not at all. It was just that I could hardly be called slender like he could, either. The fact that I topped him by a head added to the effect. At any rate, a build like mine might have been good for the horse aspect, but I would never pass as a female. Not without a lot of work. So in addition to all the clothes the public saw, I wore a corset and stuffed bra, along with one of those padded things that bulks out the hips. With all that, and the mask to hide my face, I could pass as a thickset woman.

All of which was a somewhat long way of saying that I was ''hot.'' Being in Orlando, even in November, didn't help much. And the battery powering the fan in the muzzle that kept the air circulating was dying. Moisture was getting blown out of the nostrils slower than I was sweating it into the air, and the plastic eyes had gotten all foggy. It probably looked like my costume had cataracts, and she might as well have. I was about as blind.

For ten minutes we just sat. I tried hard to breathe as little as possible to prevent even more moisture from fogging up the eyes. Eventually I could see more than vague shapes again, and began paying attention to the other costumes. Along with the usual assortment of Klingons, Jedi, and superheroes, some stood out. A few of them were quite good, like the dragon that must have contained at least two men. Others were not so great, like the robot that was clearly assembled in ten minutes from cardboard boxes, spray paint, and a magic marker. And a few were just puzzling. What did a ballerina, a US Marine Captain, or an anthropomorphic white rabbit have to do with science-fiction or fantasy? If the rabbit had been wearing an Elizabethan outfit I could say it was from Caroll, but he was just wearing overalls.

"We're going to be late," Gary complained, though still speaking softly. Although the jaws moved, speaking in these masks was to be avoided. It didn't sound right.

I nodded my reply, but still took my time getting up. The awards ceremony to give out the big prizes — cash, this year! — would be starting any time now, true, but I knew we wouldn't win any of those. I had thought I'd done a good job with what we were wearing, but some of the ones out there were good enough for movies. Besides, we'd already won a prize for "good couple." It was clearly a minor category, and one I've never heard of before at ''any'' con, but I wasn't about to complain. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks.

The main ballroom, where the major awards were to be dispersed, was crowded. All of the chairs within easy reach were occupied, and the walls were jammed with people. Nearly all of them were in costume, though for a sizable number it was just the funny prosthetic animal noses that were being sold in the dealer's room.

A man was ascending the low stage to join a woman in a leafy dryad outfit. He was tall, but beyond that details were impossible to discern because his clothing was a featureless black and he wore a mask. He looked like a very distinguished crow, or maybe raven. He must be the millionaire funding all the prizes, I surmised. I was proved right a moment later when the woman announced, "Eric Winters, everyone!" By then everyone at the con knew that name.

Mr. Winters took the microphone, a cat-person on one side and the dryad on the other. For several seconds he said nothing, waiting for crowd noise to die down a bit. Then he swayed, looking like he was drunk or perhaps suffering from heat exposure.

"What a wimp," I said to myself. Even though he was dressed all in black, my costume had to be a hundred times worse. Although, now that I was thinking about it again, it didn't seem so bad anymore. It was still hot and heavy, but not oppressively so, and my field of view was the best I'd had in hours. Maybe ten times worse, then.

The audience was beginning to murmur nervously. Suddenly several people interspersed throughout the hall screamed almost in unison, and panic took hold of the room.

People and costumes were running everywhere, screaming and bellowing. I laid my ears flat against the cacophony. "What is it? What is happening?" I cried. What caused the panic? I was scared more of the people here than of some danger of which I knew nothing!

"Come, my Lady!" Robin shouted over the din. "This place is unsafe!"

A bright red bar of light flashed nearby, leaving afterimages in my eyes. What looked like a man made of silver was exchanging blows with... "A griffin! My goodness, how didst a griffin get in here? Where art the guards?"

"''Please,'' Marian!"

I looked at Robin. He only called me by name in the most dire of circumstances. I had to admit that this was the most dire I could recall. "Lead on," I ordered.

He took me by the arm and aimed us at the door. Twas a shame he had not brought his sword, for it would have been of great help. Strangely, I couldn't for the life of me remember why he hath left it behind. Surely it would not have called attention to him in ''this'' lot!

For once, my lover was not gentle. Not with me and certainly not with those between us and our exit. We were somewhat aided by the fact that so many others were aimed at the same set of doors, though for some reason Robin was taking us on something of a meandering path which countered that benefit. I was jostled about quite a bit myself by wretches too uncouth or uncaring to properly treat nobility. I had to hike my skirts indecently high to prevent them from being ruined. Something crunched beneath my hooves — a scaly hand, I saw when I looked back. It wasn't moving.

At last Robin pushed aside one final obstacle, a grey-skinned woman whose beautiful dress was ruined by a gaudy overabundance of jewelry. We veered sharply away from the majority of those streaming out of the great hall and ducked inside a smaller room. There was an arrangement of tables on one end, but the rest of the room was occupied by chairs, some in obvious disarray. It was as if an eccentric highborn man had intended fifty people to watch him eat. Most curious.

But there were no people. "This seems safe enough," Robin declared.

"Indeed so."

Whoever's castle this was (I could remember its name — Xanadu — but oddly, not its lord's), was clearly wealthy beyond compare. The chairs were made not of wood, but metal! Such extravagance! Even with the thin layer of padding they looked uncomfortable, however. But those at the long table looked no different, so I took one near the end and sat.

- And immediately snorted in surprise. I jumped to my feet, rubbing my buttocks. Robin's trilling laugh echoed from the walls. "Watch yourself, my love! These seats were not made for tails. Inconsiderate of our host, whosoever that might be, don't you think?" He, too, had taken a chair, but was sitting on it sideways so as not to ruffle his tailfeathers.

I nodded slowly. So he knew not who ruled here either, did he? But there was something strange about his words...

"''A tail?''" I yelped, and turned to look closely at my backside. A part of me cringed at such unladylike behavior. Another was screaming that I had never been a lady! Nor had I ever had hooves, or a muzzle, or a tail. The dress hadn't been tailored for a tail! But now I had all of these, and more. I didn't want to contemplate exactly what more I had; I suspected I'd find out all too soon. "What on Earth didst happen to me?" I stopped there, surprised by how I spoke.

Robin — no, Gary — approached and put his winglike arms around me. "I know thou art distraught, love. Twas a terrible row we just escaped. But you seem unharmed, if a touch disheveled." He smiled, somehow, despite the beak. "Though, verily methinks it only adds to your beauty."

For a few seconds I felt comforted by his words and embrace. My lover had ever been the flatterer! Then I pulled roughly away. Gary had ''certainly'' never been a lover of mine, and Robin hadn't existed ten minutes ago! I shuddered. It was frightening how easy it was to slip into Marian's personality.

Robin looked deeply hurt at my retreat. "Robin -" I stopped. My voice! It was very definitely a woman's, now. There was no chance of pretending to be male even to a blind man. I gathered my nerve and tried again. "Do you know anyone named Gary?" Please...

But he frowned in thought for too long. I knew the answer well before he spoke. "I know none by that name. Wouldst he perchance be a new recruit for my band?"

I shook my head sadly. His name hadn't brought him out of character. Maybe nothing would, but I vowed to try again later. Still, I wondered why he was stuck so firmly as Robin Hood while I was only a part-time Maid Marian. I shook my head again, more firmly. That, too, would have to wait.

"Not some popinjay after your affections, I hope!" Robin exclaimed. "I do so hate competition."

"Thou dost love competition."

"Ah, well. Tis you who knows my heart best." He paused for a moment. "The noise seems much diminished. We should take our leave ere the guards arrive. Tis by God's own grace that they have not already."

It occurred to me that the local sheriff would probably be much more easily countered than the one he was worrying about. At least Nottingham's knew who he was up against. Still, it would not do to be present when the cops arrived. It would be indecent for a woman of my stature to be incarcerated for participating in a common brawl, however uncommonly large.

I grimaced. These personality shifts were going to take some getting used to.

Outside the room, the place had the seeming of a town after flood. Tables that had been covered with some merchant's wares were overturned and broken, his inventory strewn everywhere. The only people to remain were three stormtroopers marching back towards the great hall. We stayed out of their way and their sight until they were past, then headed in the opposite direction, marveling at the wonderful flameless torches and the impossibly clear glass. I had never seen the like!

Our error was quickly made apparent. Twas clearly the direction the great majority of the mob had gone. We could see the throngs outside through more great sheets of that glass. But when we approached closer to see, another marvel revealed itself. As we neared, a portion slid aside of its own accord, revealing itself to be not a window but a door. We both blinked and looked at each other. Then he shrugged and stepped through, leaving me to follow in his wake.

Outside was chaos. But twas the chaos of a tourney, not that of a brawl. Except it missed the festive air. Most of the people looked quite displeased, indeed! Men and creatures were sitting with dejected looks upon their visages. Some were weeping or wandering aimlessly, as if their wits had deserted them.

Strange movement caught my eye: a pair of turning lamps, one burning red, the other blue. The rested on an oddly-shaped box of metal and glass. More were arriving, accompanied by a wail audible for a mile or more. My awe was less than it might have been, however, as I realized they were some sort of vehicle. There were just too many wonders, and my sense of awe was becoming dulled from overuse.

The guards — no, the ''police!'' — were here at last. I glanced at Robin, but while he had seen them arrive he was as yet unaware of their significance. They were already beginning to block off the exits from the parking lot. Within an hour, or maybe half that, none would be able to leave the grounds without their permission.

"The sheriff's men art here," I told Robin.

"Oh?" His head darted about, searching. "Where? I see them not?"

"The cars — the metal boxes with lamps atop them. Those art his."

"Ah... art thou sure, my Lady? Their garb is peculiar."

"A new set of armor doth change not who they be. Tis they, for certain." I hoped Gary would emerge soon. Having to term everything so Robin Hood would understand was an arduous task. And that was when I understood it, myself.

The avian face looked thoughtful. I knew instantly what he had in mind. "Thou art mad if thou thinketh you can force conflict now!"

He trilled, clearly amused. "Against greater numbers, with neither stalwart companions nor plan? Nay, fear not, my love. I dost not be quite so foolish as that!"

I looked at him suspiciously. If he didst not desire a battle, what then? Only one thing came to mind. "Thou art planning a grand jest." Drawing attention to us out of these multitudes was second only to a fight in my estimation of things to be avoided. "We haven't the time! More guards arrive by the moment!" But the gleam in his eye was accompanied now by a stubborn set to his beak. I gulped and tried a different approach, on that I had rather hoped to avoid. I grasped the ends of his wings gently and in the softest, most sincere tone I could muster said, "For me, my... my love?"

For a moment I thought even that might not be enough. Robin Hood was the rogue's rogue. But he was also something of a gentleman. "Since thou dost insist," he said. "Though it doth pain me to leave without tweaking his nose by letting him know who he almost caught in his net." With one backward glance at the police, we left.

Escaping them was simplicity itself. We simply walked out of a side of the parking lot from which there were no sanctioned exits. The police had done little more than block and regulate the ways cars could come and go. By no means was the "net" tight enough yet to catch those without them.

As we walked, Robin turned his head about often to stare at some new wonderment. He said nothing, just taking it all in. And there was so very much to take in! His state made it easy for me to take the lead. And, thanks to how I had somehow not completely become Marian, I even had some idea where to go.

The highway was not far from Xanadu. When it came into view we both stopped and stared. We had thought the cars were going impossibly quick on the local streets, but it was as nothing compared to this!

"What is this place?" Robin said over the din of hundreds of moving cars.

"Tis the highway," I called back. "We needs must ride one of these."

He didn't look precisely scared. Acutely worried, mayhap. "Art thou sure we must? We could always walk."

I nodded. "Twould take days to reach safe haven by hoof." I blinked; that was supposed to be ''by foot.'' "Fret not. These cars dost be harmless if thou dost not stand before them."

"How canst thou be so certain?"

"I am a learned mare."

That mollified him. Together we made our way to the highway. Robin had little trouble with the chain-link fence on its edge; he simply jumped over, aided by a few flaps of his wings. I had somewhat more difficulty. Neither my hooves nor my dress were well suited to climbing. We had to search for some time before finding a tear in the links.

We walked onto the shoulder. I let Robin support me a bit; loose stones unbalanced me whenever they chanced to be beneath my hooves. Then I stuck out a thumb in the traditional manner. It felt a mite peculiar, until I realized I had only three fingers.

One more thing to get used to.

Twice cars slowed and began to drift our way, and twice they regained their incredible speed and passed us by. But a third did not veer off, and stopped a few dozen feet away. It was of the type that looked somewhat like the wagons with which we were both familiar, except the driver's area was enclosed and as always there were no horses to pull it. It also was not in the best of conditions, with rust and dents riddling its body.

The glass window near us was absent. Within was a single occupant, large and bearded. "Need a ride?" he drawled.

"Verily."

"C'mon in, then."

We nodded, then paused. How to enter was not immediately clear. Then Robin scrambled in through the opening.

"I will not crawl inside like that!" I declared, hands on my hips. "Twould be unbecoming!"

"Why don't you use the door then, miss?"

We looked at the man. He was trying hard not to laugh. I could feel my ears redden as I blushed. "Thou dost mock me!"

"Sorry, miss, sorry. I just... never mind. Ya open the door by pulling on that handle there. Yeah, that. Now pull..."

Part of the side swung away, and it was suddenly much easier to get inside. "I thought that was an ornament," I declared as I got in. I had to sit slightly sideways on the padded bench, since, as at Xanadu, he had not thought to accommodate those with tails. Robin had a similar problem, and solved it the same way. It changed the seat from small to truly cramped, but I still managed to close the door — carefully, mindful of my skirts.

The strange wagon started to move. Its speed continued to build until it was the countryside that moved too fast for comfort. By contrast, the nearby wagons were almost still, shifting position slowly. I confess that my hands were clenched tight on the metal door.

"First time ridin' a car, is it?"

Robin nodded stiffly. I noticed he kept his eyes on the man rather than the petrifying view outside. Then I closed my eyes so I didn't have to look at it, either.

"Well, as ya can see it ain't so bad, is it? A little scary at first but ya get used to it quick. By the way, my name's Sam."

"We are honored. I am Robin Hood and this is my Lady love, Marian."

"Uh... right. Good job on those costumes. Damn, they can do anything these days! So where do ya come from, that ya ain't never ridden before?"

"We hail from Sherwood Forest."

A pause. "Right. Well... Oh! Heh, I get it now. ''Robin'' Hood. Clever!" I wondered what was so clever about it. Twas his name, nothing more. "Well, you're pretty far from there, eh?"

"Indeed. Thou didst speak but a moment past of never before meeting people who have ridden in a... car?"

"Yeah, damn near everyone's ridden in these things — unless you're Amish, maybe, and I don't think you are. They just don't wear costumes like yours. Just about everyone owns one, too, except the poor and those damn Amish again."

I didn't have to be watching to see Robin perk up at the mention of the poor. "So tis only rich Lords such as yourself who own these cars, then."

Sam laughed, a deep bass that set my ears to ringing. "I ain't no lord! Just about anyone can buy one if they save up, thank God. Only the really down-and-out can't manage it." His voice shifted, sounding concerned, as he said, "Gonna need a new one myself, pretty soon. This one's in bad shape. Need new everything. Even the radio's busted, which is why I can't play some music for ya."

We rode in silence for a few seconds. I cracked open my eyes, saw a tree zoom past, and immediately shut them again. I spent the time trying to imagine what a radio was and how one might be played.

"Say, where ya goin', anyway? Or are ya just driftin'? If ya are, then I can only bring ya as far as Miami. Not there's a whole lot after that!"

"I dost not think so," Robin said carefully. "Where were we going, Marian? Thou didst have a place in mind, thou claimed."

I did? But after a moment I remembered our destination, and I told it to Sam.

"Well, great! That's just two exits up!" he said cheerfully. "Good thing I asked when I did, eh?"

When I felt the car slow down, I managed to pry my eyes open once more. The scenery still moved much too fast, but I could stand it now. There were fewer buildings than the area near Xanadu, and they were smaller and less garish. Houses. Sam made a few turns, fast and sharp enough to be nauseating, and stopped before one of them.

"Here ya are. I hope y'all have fun at your party. Ya got some damn good costumes."

"Thankee for the kind words, good sir," Robin replied. I bowed my head, acknowledging our benefactor's praise, then opened the door and stepped out.

Our destination was a dwelling that was apparently average, judging by others nearby, but it was in truth as large as a small Lord's hunting retreat. It had but one floor, however, and a large hollow space to one side that took up a great deal of room. It was separated from the indoors by more sheets of flawless glass.

The building was familiar, yet not. I remembered it clearly, and knew it was safe to remain there after leaving Xanadu. But I could not recall what made it safe. Were it not for how we had no other place to go, I might have shied away from this mystery.

My lover had exited and was speaking to Sam. "Thankee for thine help. Take this as a token of my gratitude." From the purse at his hip he withdrew a square-cut ruby perhaps half an inch on each side.

Sam guffawed as he took it in hand. "Thanks, Robin. Ya do the act pretty damn good, there. Too bad it ain't real."

"Tis real enough, I assure thee."

Sam peered at him skeptically. "Perhaps now thou canst buy a new radio," I suggested. He would want an instrument before the long winter months arrive, else the boredom would become acute.

"Ha! If this is real I can buy a new ''car!'' Ha ha! See y'all later, folks. Have a good time." Sam closed the door with a thunk and drove away, still chuckling.

I whirled on my lover. "Where didst thou get those?"

"From the rich, of course!"

"From the guests at Xanadu!" I raged. "Truly thou art mad! Thou stealeth from the guests of our host! Tis a poor way to show gratitude for his hospitality!"

"His hospitality could be better," Robin countered. "Poor seats and a near-battle in the hall, and yet he doth not even deign to show himself! Twas my due, for the inconvenience if for no other reason." I glared at him. He could be so trying at times! "Besides, my sweet, what's done is done. There is no gain in anger now."

I retained my glare for a moment longer, to show I was giving in but did not have to. Then I asked from where he got the gem.

"Twas from that grey lady. Verily, she had more than was good for her soul. I was duty-bound to relieve her of some of her wealth. Half my takings came from her alone!"

''Half?'' "Just how much didst thou steal?"

In response he opened his purse. The small bag was filled with perhaps two score bits of jewelry and loose gems of various sizes and colors. One emerald was near the size of a hen's egg! "My word..." I gasped.

"In all the confusion that abounded, twas simplicity itself to relieve the rich of some of what makes them so haughty."

A girl, mayhap five years of age, was across the street, watching us with wide eyes and open mouth as we argued. I smiled reassuringly at her, and was rewarded with a tentative one in return. I thrust the bag of jewels back at Robin and strode towards the house. "Come. We art attracting attention. This is not the place to show such wealth."

Gaining entry was not quite so simple as opening a door, however, for all we found were locked. But my love had among his many skills those of an accomplished burglar. Twas only a matter of reaching an understanding of these locks.

"There," he said at last as the door from the hollow area opened at last. "After you, my Lady."

I walked into a dwelling that was oddly familiar. Strange furniture filled the room, and the most skillfully done paintings I had seen in my life hung from the walls. Beyond was a room the likes of which I had never seen. In one corner was a large box that quietly hummed and the walls were lined with cabinets filled with plates and goblets filled with glass. Was this the kitchen, then?

Yes, of course it was. I opened the refrigerator and withdrew an apple and a few slices of cheese. I had the feeling it would be wise to avoid the lunch meat. "There is food here, it thou art hungry," I called to Robin.

"Ah, thou art a wonder, my love." Robin nibbled on the base of my neck as he passed — his version of a kiss, it seemed. He paused when he reached the fridge's open door. "Tis cold!"

"Indeed so." There was little else to say.

His face turned thoughtful. "This kingdom in which we find ourselves is rich beyond compare. Beyond dreaming! The Lord who doth maintain this lodge commands such wondrous magics. Twould do much for the poor, methinks."

"Well, mayhap..."

"Mayhap! How could it not be so? Just look at the riches around us!"

"Struth, but... well."

The next few hours were consumed by giving Robin a brief summary of American society. It was somewhat difficult to convince him that most people, even the poor, had refrigerators and flameless lights, and that most of those without them had no place to put them. Unlike the England we remembered, the poor would not starve. Even once he had some idea, however, it did not change the mission he had imposed upon himself to help the poor overcome their hardships.

"Though it may require a change of strategy, perchance," he admitted. I laughed. His persistence was wonderful. It's one of the reasons I love him so dearly.

No, no. I don't. Not love...

In the course of the conversation I did determine one sad fact: Gary was gone. I knew already that he didn't recognize the name; now I knew that his job, his home town, and even his dog were all unfamiliar to him. Perhaps sometime in the future some part of Gary will emerge, but I didst not hold high hopes.

Our discourse was interrupted by the sound of an approaching car. We halted, then moved back into the kitchen. It was out of immediate view of all the doors, so we might have time to determine if the newcomer was friend or foe.

The car stopped in the hollow space. The door from there opened slowly. "Hello? Guys? I know you're here, I saw you in the window..."

As the man entered the kitchen Robin slid in quickly behind him, his belt knife pressed under the man's armpit. "Who art thou?" Robin demanded.

The newcomer was young and thin, and his eyes were wide with fear. "I'm S-Scott. I live here! Don't you remember me, Gary? I let you guys stay here during the con."

I stepped forward. "Our apologies, dear Scott. We didst not know for certain who might pursue us."

Scott stared at me as Robin put his knife away. He looked as if he had been punched. "Shit..."

"Mind your language," Robin said harshly. "A Lady doth be before you!"

"Uh... sorry. You've turned into them, haven't you? Robin Hood and Maid Marian?"

"Those art indeed our names, good sir," Robin told him.

"Of sorts," I amended. Both of them looked at me a touch oddly, but I said nothing more as yet.

With the introductions past, we took a few moments to look each other over. No doubt he wished to see what this curse had wrought on us, and the thought was mutual. It was not difficult to see what had come of Scott. His face had a decidedly feline cast to it, with a small muzzle and ears atop his head framing a mass or orange and black hair. Most interestingly, his eyes had remained entirely human.

"I see thou didst not come away from Xanadu unscathed," I commented.

We moved into the living room as he told us what happened. He hadn't worn a full costume as we had. (Robin cocked his head here, for he didst not recall any costume, but I forestalled any comment with a hand on his wing.) Instead, he had bought a cheap animal nose, held over his own by a band of rubber, and a matching pair of ears. When the curse was cast, his visage became halfway that of a tiger.

"After the riot," Scott told us, "I couldn't find you. For a long while I was sure you were still there, 'cause I was your ride back. By the time I gave up searching, the police had set up a kind of quarantine. The only reason they let me out is because my changes were ''relatively'' minor and I'm a local.

"They art not so minor to mine eyes," Robin said.

"Ah... I did say relatively minor. I mean, just look at you two!"

"What about us?"

Scott didn't quite know what to make of that.

We explained how we made our way here from Xanadu. Beyond that, there was little enough to say. It would never occur to Robin to explain the changes to his mental state, and I was reluctant to clarify the issue to Scott with him present. Our host did attempt some probing questions, which I confess I did a poorer job of answering than I would have anticipated. I could remember a computer, but not how it was used. I knew of television, but only after being reminded of its existence, and had not the slightest of notions about how such a thing could possibly be. But his inquiries were halfhearted at best, as if he feared the answers. It is likely at its end he thought us both equally lost. He seemed discomfited at the conclusion, and it was with a morose air that he announced he would begin work on our evening repast.

I found it interesting that while I found the chicken faintly revolting and had to content myself with the vegetables and a dinner roll, Robin ate it all with little consequence. Still, even such simple fare was tasteful enough to satisfy. But the meal was a somewhat tense affair. Scott was clearly uncomfortable in our presence and ate quickly. He to his bedroom immediately afterwards, pausing only long enough to indicate where we were to sleep.

There wasn't much left to do — that we could do — except prepare for bed. I spent a few minutes explaining to Robin the proper use of a toilet. (He had considered it a basin to wash clothes in, and had been about to resort to using tupperware as a chamberpot — something I doubted Scott would see much humor in.) My own first time using the toilet as a mare was a sensation I would never forget, though twould not do to recount the experience.

That done, I retired to the room Scott had designated as ours. Robin was already there. "What dost thou thinketh of our host?"

"Worried," I replied without a moment's hesitation. "We are not what he expected."

Robin stood before me, looking thoughtful. "What didst he expect, I wonder."

"Who could say?" I could, of course. But how dost one tell a lover — well, a friend — that he is but a figment of a man's imaginings? And how dost one feel when thou art the figment? I knew not the answer to either question.

"He strikes me as morose. But a good man, nevertheless. Merely troubled by the day's events."

"Tis no surprise, surely."

Robin laughed. "Nay, tis not. Twas a very trying day. Very trying." He paused. "Wilst thou be preparing for bed? Or wilst thou be sleeping in all yon finery?"

I honestly hadn't thought about it, but he did have a point. I had no nightgown, and I certainly was not about to sleep in the nude! "My chemise wilst do until we find other garb," I decided.

"Well and good. Thou wilt need assistance with thine dress. With thine permission?"

After a moment's pause I nodded. Donning the dress by myself was by no means an easy feat, and removing it scarcely any easier. Such garb typically requires a handmaiden, but I was under no illusion that I might find one here. Robin could fill the role nicely, however.

His winglike arms and hands were deft as they unknotted the golden silk ribbons that held my bodice closed. He removed the outer dress and folded it neatly over a chair. This he repeated with the underskirt. But when I tried to turn towards the bed, his arms held me, pulled me close. "Thou art a beautiful mare," he whispered.

''Oh, no.'' "I... uh..."

"Truly beautiful," he continued over my stammers. His hands rubbed my sides. "And it has been a long a trying day. Please do permit me to soothe thine fears and comfort thine nerves."

I wouldst welcome some comfort just then, but not in quite that manner! His hands were warm and soothing, yet I stepped back and away. "Thou art forward!" I chided.

My legs struck something and I stumbled. Instantly my love was there, his arms turning my tumble into a graceful seating upon the edge of the bed. "Forward, my life? Yea, perhaps so. But then, I am but a knave, who knows not such manners as those you are privy to. But verily I am an eager student. Speak out, and I wilst halt mine transgressions upon thine person."

''He doth try to seduce me!'' my mind cried. And evidently he was succeeding, for I watched in silence as his hands shifted to cup, then massage my breasts. My body suddenly felt warm, the skin beneath my fur all atingle, and my breathing grew both quicker and deeper. This can not be happening! But my body told me otherwise.

Robin pushed me gently, lowering me back against the sheets. I found myself unable to resist his advances. Unable to ''want'' to resist. His words and ministrations and just the scent of him had quickened my blood. As much as I might fight it, I ''wanted'' him to consummate our love that was deep and oh so true.

The sudden sound of breaking glass shattered the mood. My mate looked understandably displeased, and I fear I emitted a most unladylike whinny of frustrated lust. But then we realized together that this had been no dropped dish. Something of goodly size had made its way inside by means of a window.

Robin fair to leapt away towards his arms. "Stay here whilst I see to this!" he ordered me as he buckled his belt about his waist.

But I was up but a moment later. "Nay. I am coming as well." I didst not bother attempting to don my dress — twould take far too long. But I did pull on the underskirt. A woman must retain ''some'' modesty! Twould not do to run about in one's shift.

The crashing sounds of struggle were audible through the walls as Robin searched frantically for his sword before remembering he had not brought one. He cursed softly and with a single smooth movement strung his bow. "You must. I wouldst not have thee hurt in a fray!"

I strapped my purse about my waist. Twould possibly be more a hindrance than a help in any fray, but twas full of coinage and I was loath to leave it unguarded. "Then I will just have to stay out of harm's way," I said haughtily. "But I wilst be ''damned'' if I will merely sit in this room with hands folded, awaiting word of your success or failure!"

Robin waggled a finger at me. "Such words so not become a Lady!" But he was smiling.

The shouts could no longer be ignored. "Go, then!"

It was back in the room we had first entered that the commotion was. The large sheets of glass were broken, shards scattered all about. The couch upon which Robin and I had sat as we and Scott exchanged tales was broken as well, each half in a different corner of the room.

In its center was a sight fit to put ice in my stomach. Scott stood upright, but suspended a foot or more in the air by sheets of a green-tinged lightning. It traveled over and around his body again and again, but there was no thunder, only a sizzle like frying meat. Scott's hair was on end, some of it beginning to scorch, and his face was a rictus of pain.

Standing before their host was an apparition out of nightmare. It was as if sleek red robes and enough gold to buy an earl's estate had been bestowed upon a corpse, who in turn decided not to let it go to waste mouldering away in a grave. Its skin was mottled with rot and oozing sores, and its fingernails were long and yellow. When it spoke its voice was harsh and raspy. "This is your last chance," it cooed horribly, and I shuddered. Each word felt like maggots were crawling through mine hair. "Your very, very, very last chance. Are you quite certain you won't tell?"

"Never! Heard! Of it!" Sean gasped out in spurts.

"That's too bad," the thing said, its tone still a parody of sweetness. "Now I'll have to tear this place apart. Starting with you."

Robin had had enough. He nocked an arrow and cried, "Hold, varlet! Lest I put a clothyard shaft through thine heart!"

The corpse turned without haste. Then its eyes — blind and milky white, but somehow still seeing — widened in recognition. "You!"

"Yea, tis I, Robin Hood! Now release him!"

The thing looked startled at first. Then it did the unthinkable: it turned up its head and laughed. Long and hard, chest heaving with genuine humor. "Of ''course'' you are! I should have guessed!" With a casual flick of his wrist the lightning vanished, and Scott was sent flying like so much refuse. He hit a wall and tumbled down in a smoking heap, unmoving.

Robin's face clouded. His feathers were quite literally ruffled. My love didst never much enjoy being himself the object of ridicule. His shot was his revenge. At this distance, mere paces away, he could scarcely miss, and I heard the air whistle with the force of its passage as it flew true. The corpse-thing staggered with the impact.

But it did not fall. It reached to the arrow piercing its chest — exactly where the heart was — and yanked the shaft out. It did not flinch as the flesh tore, gobbets spattering on the floor. It threw it away with an ugly chuckle. "Excellent shot, 'Robin.' But you'll find me harder to kill than that."

I cried out in sudden fear as it pointed at us. We dove away in different directions, somehow knowing that this was no harmless gesture, but Robin was struck by an identical curtain of lightning to that which had ensnared our host. From just inside the doorway I watched as he was pulled upright to float where Scott had. "Now. Where is my Aelpa?"

"I know not."

Its face twisted in absolute rage. "You of all people must know! You took it from me! You!" The lightning increased, the sizzling growing until I thought myself deafened. Robin jerked spasmodically in the things power. After long, long seconds of this it softened enough that he could speak.

And still he resisted, as I knew he would. "I know not what this 'Aelpa' is," he stated as nobly as he could manage under the circumstances. "And I fail to remember taking anything at all from one as ugly as thineself. But if I had, twould be mine by right! If thou canst not prevent thine possessions from going astray then thou hast none to blame but thine own self."

Unsurprisingly, our assailant disliked such an answer. A quick motion and the lightning renewed itself once more. My Robin screamed and flailed about, but the evil creature showed no mercy. For most of a minute I helplessly watched my be tortured.

Finally the display somewhat abated. The corpse stepped in close, until its face was bare inches from my lover's beak. "Now listen, birdy," it said softly, the voice still horrible to hear. "I didn't expect to become a Kestagian Mage at Xanadu, but there's no way in Hell that I will pass this opportunity up. So I'm going to give you one last chance, much like I gave your friend." It gestured vaguely to where Scott still lay. "Where is my Aelpa?"

Robin's reply was terse. "Fuck off and die!"

Its face clouded. "You know, birds and glass have a rather nasty relationship. Did you know that?" My love abruptly went sailing across the room to crash into the lone remaining pane of plate glass. And enormous thud was clearly audible just before the pane shattered and he continued through it.

"Robin!" I screamed, and ran to follow my love regardless of the danger. But danger did not disregard me. Before I had made half a dozen strides I felt a burning across my entire body, and I felt myself lifted in the room's center to hang like a butchered goose on display.

"Perhaps you'll be more co-operative," the nightmare before me rasped.

I tried to shrink away. If its voice was belike to maggots in mine hair when it was merely overheard, it felt like worms in mine skull when it was directed at me. I fear that voice still, and can hear it yet in my mind.

"I know not!" I cried immediately, since I knew what question he meant to ask. Beyond the glass I couldst see nothing but blackness, for Robin had been thrust too far and the night had swallowed him. "Let me go! I canst not give you that which you ask! We know not what it is!" I didst not bother to hide my fear. Not fear of death, for that wouldst only allow me to join Robin in his, hopefully to meet in Heaven (no doubt after a suitable length in Purgatory, in his case). Nay, I must confess that I feared the pain to come, for I was no warrior or hero to resist such torments as I had already witnessed. "Kill me or let me go, but wither way do it and be done! I canst tell thee nothing of worth."

I dost not know which path it planned to choose — though of a certain I have my suspicions! But before he could do either there arose behind him Scott, his hair still asmoulder. He swung a great piece of wood I recognized as part of the broken couch, swung and connected with the thing's head. There was a great crack, and I thought for certain that its head was stove in, for the lightning that surrounded me vanished and I dropped bonelessly to the floor. I scrambled frantically away, sure that the corpse would fall, now a corpse in truth. But it didst not. It only turned, anger written plainly on its visage. Scott's lips peeled back in a feline snarl that wouldst surely have been fearsome, but for the greater horror before me. He swung his makeshift club again at the mage's head.

It never struck. The creature uttered something and flung his hand outwards, and the wood crashed to the floor from thumbless paws. Paws that were in turn attached to a tiger, rather than a tiger-man. The mage realized the error just as the beast leapt for its throat, and twas merely a cub that smacked against the thing's chest. It staggered from the hit, but the cub fair to bounced off to sit on the floor, shaking its head to clear it.

"Dammit!" it cried out in Scott's voice. "I thought I was safe from all this transformation shit!"

The entire room grew still for a moment. Twas a strange thing indeed to hear such words come from a tiger, and a cub at that! We all looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, and he himself seemed stunned. Then the corpse drew back its leg for a mighty kick. Scott saw, and scampered away.

The thing snorted, and I know not whether twas in frustration or satisfaction or mayhap even humor. Then it returned its attentions once more to me, and its visage was truly terrible to behold. It stepped forward as if this time to beat me to death instead of torturing me with its magics.

Yet again twas interrupted. A loud mechanical roaring came from outside. As one we turned to look beyond the broken panes. And twas an incredible sight! Twas Scott's own car speeding towards us, Robin my love behind the wheel!

Once more I scrambled hastily to win clear of a danger bearing down upon me. But he steered it away and directly into the evil mage, who in his startlement had not the thought to cast some spell that might save him. Robin drove the car into and over it, actually rolling over it with one of the tires.

"Marian!" he called through the window. "Make haste! Get in!"

I didst not argue. Already I couldst see stirrings beneath the car — even a blow as great as this couldst not kill it! I hurried into the vehicle, sitting sideways again, and Robin scarcely waited for me to close the door before shifting the lever attached to the wheel before his chest. We sped off, backwards, with a bump that hurt mine tail as we ran over our assailant a second time, and another, greater one as we left the building to the outside. The he shifted again, and we were moving forward at a goodly clip away from the damaged house.

"Art thou all right? Thou art not injured?" he asked once we were on our way.

"Nay. I am fine, although mine nerves art shattered beyond doubt. What of thee?"

"Struth, I am surprisingly uninjured, with the sole exception of a truly monstrous headache. But my bow was broken by the fall, I fear, and most of mine arrows lost."

"I've no doubt you can find another. I myself lost mine only dress!"

Robin's laugher lightened mine heart. "And that too can be replaced without difficulty, I'm sure. But where is our host? I am loath to leave him in yon mage's clutches, yet I saw him not when I drove in."

"Of that I know not, I fear. He hast become a mere cub, thanks to foul magic, and afterwards ran off."

For a few moments the car was silent save for its running. Then he said, "He shalt have to make do on his own, then. We canst not risk a search."

I nodded mine agreement but remained silent. A thought more pressing came to mind. "Robin, my love... How canst it be thy knoweth how to use one of these cars? For I know of a certainty I couldst not."

"Ha! Tis because thy kept thine eyes closed for the previous journey! But I watched how friend Sam managed it, and so was able to do it myself when the need arose."

The answer made sense on the surface of it, but the more I pondered the less satisfying it became. He drove far too skillfully to have learned merely by watching, and never once had Sam touched the gearshift. So how, then, didst Robin know its use?

The only thing I couldst think of was that perhaps, despite all earlier tests by Scott and mineself, some part of Gary didst survive. Twas a notion supported by his last words to the mage: "Fuck off and die." Twas scarcely a phrase Robin Hood might speak.

"Gary?" I asked softly, tentatively. But the bird beside me didst not respond. "Robin?"

"Yes, love?"

"Thankee for returning."

He leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek — quite literally. "What else couldst I do? Twas my Lady in the hands of that villain! So once more I rode in to rescue ye, the fine damsel in distress. Though tis a strange steed I rode in on!"

I blew him a raspberry. My mouth was well suited to them now, it seemed.

So. If twas a touch a Gary that hath emerged, twas only a touch. I shouldst have to wait and see what became of it, if anything at all did.

For some unknowable length of time I watched the lights of the city outside as we passed them by. For this time I felt no need to close mine eyes in fear of the remarkable speed. Perhaps the semidarkness quelled such worries. Or mayhap twas something else...

I had noticed an odd thing, now that the tumult was past. I still loved my Robin, and indeed found the thought of living without him painful to contemplate. Yet I couldst also recall being horrified to find myself in his embrace. Indeed, I couldst still remember all of my life ere Xanadu, and whilst it doth seem a strange life I knew it to be the true one I hath lived to that day. But I still most certainly was Maid Marian, ward of King Richard and future wife of the rogue, Robin Hood. It occurred to me that mine two selves somehow merged, melting together into a whole greater than the parts. It made the world new, yet familiar, as if I had by chance met a friend not seen in years. I thought it likely now that whilst I might still be surprised and awed by the things to be found on our future journeys, I wouldst never be shocked by them — no moreso, at least, than any other mortal wouldst be.

"Dost thou have a destination?" I asked at last.

"Nay, unless thou hast one to suggest. But my only thought hast been to put as much road between us and that thing as I am able ere we rest."

"Aim north, then." I got as comfortable as I was able, given the awful seat, and prepared myself for a long ride.

A strange sputtering jerked me awake from a sleep I hadn't realized I had begun. But I found myself curled against my mate, and straightened as the car began to move in fits and starts. "What's happening?" I asked sleepily.

"I know not. The car just started acting strangely. Forgive me for letting it wake thee."

"Of course thou art forgiven, love." I ran my fingers' hooflets through his plumage as I considered. "Steer it over to the side before another car hits us. How long hath I slept?"

Robin dutifully pulled to the shoulder just as the car gave one last gasp and died. "Merely an hour, perhaps more."

Verily it felt like it. Mine head was foggy and slow. It was a testament to how badly the day had worn on me that it was only after we had come to a complete halt that I thought to inquire regarding its fuel. To which Robin replied, "Fuel?"

This explained much.

"I had best explain as we walk," I told him.

Robin cocked his head. "Why not here? Tis as good a place as any to rest the night."

"Methinks thou still doth not realize how this land works, my love. Nay, do not be offended! I mean no slight! But this country, whilst strange to us both — and us both strange to it, ha! — doth be somehow less strange to me. I tell you of a certainty that shouldst we remain with the car here overlong that we will be found. If not that 'Kestagian Mage,' then by the sheriff or his men!"

Robin agitatedly ruffled is feathers. "Lawks! Doth he be everywhere?"

"In a way... come, love, let us not tarry. We canst still use our feet and hooves, each in turn, and mayhap find an inn. And along the way I canst tell thee a touch more about America, and a wonderful, terrible device called a gun."

The walk was not long in distance, but we took it slowly. Robin surprised me by accepting, in abstract at least, the police as a force for common good instead of a tool to oppress the masses. "There are good and evil men on this Earth," he said, "and just as some of the evil wilst gain power, so too wilst some good." He didst agree, then, the he would refrain from attempting to slay officers on sight in a kind of proactive self-defense. I felt this was likely to be the best I wouldst get from him, for the moment, and moved on.

Of the concept of guns he was much more skeptical. That someone couldst build something belike to a crossbow that shoots only the arrow's head at a speed capable of knocking a grown man off his feet, and still have the device fit inside his purse — twas ridiculous! Rifles he couldst believe in, if barely, but for all else he thought me to be jumping at shadows, and declared he wouldst need to see them ere he grew wary.

By then we had exited the highway and were walking city streets. I didst my best to ignore the rude stares of those passing us by in cars. Twas not easy, for I felt nearly naked, walking about in little more than my shift. Luckily, there was a refuge of sorts not far from the highway, a bright sign proclaiming "Denny's" for all to see. "That looks not like an inn," Robin commented when I headed for the entrance.

"True enow," I replied. "But tis likely they can direct us to one, and give us refreshment in the bargain."

"Refreshment! Thou art hungry again so soon?"

"Thou dost know horses," I said gaily at the door. "Always grazing!"

Inside, twas bright and cheery, though the odors that assaulted my muzzle were nothing I'd ever enjoy. The hostess at the counter looked up from her book with a smile that quickly faded as she beheld us. "Not more of them!" Twas clearly meant to be a mutter, but mine ears heard her clearly.

"Good eve, dear lady," Robin said charmingly. Either he hadn't heard her comment or he was ignoring it. "We wouldst enjoy a meal here, if thou canst offer one. And if ye perchance hath directions to an inn then we wouldst be much obliged to thee."

The young woman's face was blank for a few seconds as she puzzled through the speech. "There's a motel maybe four blocks that way," she said at last, pointing hopefully. "It's a Best Western, you can't miss it."

"Doth this 'Best Western' be an inn, then? I am unfamiliar with motels."

"Uh... yeah."

"Excellent! We shalt eat and be on our way, then."

The woman didst not bother hiding her grimace. She led us to a nearly deserted corner of the restaurant before removing herself. The only other patrons in the area were a deer and a white rabbit quietly sharing a table. They perked up noticeably when they spied our entry. With only the quickest of glances at each other they both waved for us to join them.

Robin smiled and strode immediately to their side. I was a touch more reluctant to dine with complete strangers, e'en ones that couldst well have sprung direct from Sherwood Forest itself. But the decision had been made, and I joined my love at their table.

We all took a few moments to check each other out. The rabbit was pure white and about the size of a child. His bright blue eyes stared at me inquisitively, and his hands looked oddly deformed, though I couldst not see them clearly enough to determine how. He wore no clothing. His companion, the deer, was man-sized, with an enormous ten-pointed set of antlers atop his brow that must make dwellings feel cramped. His ears were in constant motion, turning towards the slightest sound. I noticed that his hands were not unlike mine, with four digits bestowed with tiny hooflets on their ends. At first it seemed he, too, was unclothed, but after a moment I noticed he wore a pair of short brown pants that almost perfectly blended with his fur. The cream-colored fur on his chest, however, was uncovered.

"Hey there," said the deer in a soft voice by way of greeting, as I sat down slowly, mindful of my tail.

"Ah... hey," Robin returned uncertainly. I merely nodded my head to them.

"Hiya," the rabbit said. "I'm Phil, and this here's Jon."

"''Buck,''" his companion corrected him. "Given how things are, I might as well get used to that name."

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Good eve. I am Robin Hood, and this is Maid Marian."

The table was engulfed in silence. Finally Buck said, "Well, ''somebody'' had a sense of humor."

The waitress arrived then, a large woman who approached cautiously and stood an extra pace away from the table as we ordered food. Phil and Buck already had theirs before them, large salads each, and I asked one for myself. On the woman's recommendation Robin decided to try the french toast. "Tis just like the French scoundrels to claim the dish for their own, I daresay," he told her.

After she left, Phil enthused, "Sure is nice to see others affected by Xanadu's curse."

"Curse?" Robin asked.

"And why is that?" I said at the same time.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before. Everyone's afraid of us. Think we'll show some inhuman ability or instinct or power and ruin the place. Or maybe just infect them."

Buck added, "I hear there's honest-to-God werewolves roaming Florida, now." His eyes darted about briefly as if he expected one to appear.

Phil nodded. "Yeah, that sort of thing. So they shove us in this corner so we're out of the way, even though we're not like that. Even if we were, though, I for one sure don't see what people wouldn't want to become wererabbits!" He wiggled his long ears humorously for emphasis.

Robin trilled, and I giggled girlishly at his antics. "I didst think twas for privacy," I said.

"Yep. Theirs," the rabbit said. "They don't know how to deal with us, so they keep us out of sight and hope we'll go away. This place might not even have seated us if they didn't have a twenty-four-year-old managing it. Even I was able to intimidate him, and I'm a bunny!"

At this we all laughed. When it died away, Buck asked, "Do you know anything, then, about what the heck happened at Xanadu?"

I shook my head no. Robin said, "Only that there was a great riot. Dost thou have news to tell?"

Now twas Phil's turn to shake his head. "We just know what everyone else knows: everyone who was wearing a costume turned into what they went as. Complete with all the powers and abilities that go with it — I saw two superheroes just fly off, and I bet you can shoot an arrow like nobody else, Robin."

We both nodded thoughtfully. "Doth this be the curse that thou mentioned, then?" my mate asked.

"Tis. I mean, it is."

"And some people didst lose all sense of who they art," I said, trying hard not to look at the bird at my side. Phil blinked once, clearly surprised. Twas only then that I realized that he, like Scott, hath believed 'til then that my old knowledge was gone, and that we both entirely thought of ourselves as Robin Hood and Maid Marian. I suppose tis understandable, with our speech, to assume tis that way for us both. Such preconceptions might even come in useful, shouldst our enemy fall victim to them.

"Well, yeah," Phil managed after a few seconds. "I heard on the radio that how bad it is seems to depend on how well-defined the costume was as a character, and maybe how well it was played."

That made a great deal of sense. Robin Hood hath a great deal to build on, from films and books and lore. An archer unsurpassed and good with sword as well, he was witty, clever, friend to the oppressed and enemy of oppressors and lover to Maid Marian. Tis inevitable that a man taking that role at Xanadu wouldst entirely lose his old self.

And what of Maid Marian? Mine only thoughts to her character when I built the costume were that she wouldst be noble-born and in love with Robin, supporting him as best she were able. Such a relatively sparse description couldst well be why I had so much of mine old self left, even if twere more as just memories and less as thoughts and deeds.

"That's likely why you speak so... well, wrong," Buck said thoughtfully.

I looked at him hard. "Wrong? Tis Olde English, is all!"

But he shook his head. "Not really. I'm no history major — well, okay, I am, but it's for the wrong era to know what real Olde English is. But I know what you're speaking isn't it."

"Most likely," Phil chimed in, "you're speaking how the pre-curse you thought Olde English sounded. It's just another aspect of the mental change. It's not proper speech because you didn't truly think of your character speaking properly."

I considered. "That makes sense enough, I suppose. And what of you both? It doth not seem to have turned out too poorly for you."

Buck snorted in amusement, letting out a deerlike bleat. "That's only because you met us in a quiet, unpopulated area. Put either of us in a noisy crowd and I swear we'd have nervous breakdowns inside twenty minutes. Though I suppose if you meant physically we could have come out of it worse."

"Speak for yourself," Phil grumbled. "At least you have ''hands.'' All I have are these things." He held up his hands, and I couldst see them clearly for the first time. For they were not hands in truth but paws, if a bit more mobile that those on a real rabbit. His fingers hath all been drastically shortened, and the even coating of white fur made them seem to be covered by slick mittens. His fork was wedged between two fingers, mayhap the only way he couldst hold it. "It's going to be nearly impossible to do anything, now."

"It's your own fault for making the gloves like that," Buck pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. But what's fun for a few hours isn't always all that great when you have to live with it for the rest of your life."

I couldst certainly agree with him, there!

Robin spoke now, the first utterance in some while. "My Lady, I hath been considering. Much now makes sense that little didst ere this. But I dost thinketh we art bespelled."

I doth not be certain what mine expression was on hearing those words. Wide-eyed? Open-mouthed? But tis certain that I was shocked to the core. I hath all this day been wondering at the manner to best tell him that truth, and then he doth realize it for himself!

"I understand, now, why you called me by an untrue name. Yea, and friend Scott as well. The strange questions thou both put to me... Didst thou thinketh I wouldst forget? But now tis a weight off my mind, for I see at last the method behind thine seeming madness."

"Thou art not upset?" I asked warily. "That I didst not tell thee? Nor that you are not..."

"Myself? Nay, I am still mine own self!" His laugh echoed throughout the room. "What I was before matters little. And whether I be a day old or a century, I am still Robin Hood!"

The twas much as he had described, a great weight gone from mine mind. Twas wrong of me, not to have faith in my lover. Twould be much unlike my Robin to become morose at misfortune — especially when tis not his misfortune.

"You remember your old self now?" Phil asked.

"Not a whit!" Robin said cheerfully. "And whilst some shalt surely mourn the passing of friend Gary, I shalt miss him not at all."

Buck's ears twitched. "Yet you remember your old name."

"Tis only because others hath mentioned it to me." Robin waved his wing dismissively before turning abruptly to me. "But come, my dear Lady. Thou art at an advantage, I now realize. For thou knoweth mine previous name, and I reckon some of mine previous life as well. Yet I know naught of thine."

I squirmed uncomfortably. I couldst not bear the thought of his knowing that I was male only yesterday. Though judging by his reactions of a moment ago he couldst well just shrug off the news, twould be ''me'' who still must tell it — and before near-strangers, yet! I couldst feel myself blushing beneath my fur, mine ears growing pink at the very thought.

"Though I still retain many memories of myself ere Xanadu," I began, carefully choosing mine words, "methinks twould be best if thou simply calleth me Marian. For that is whose body I clearly wear now, and tis by that name that I think of myself."

"Aah, a secret, is it?" Robin crowed. "Well, tis mine calling to pry out secrets. I shalt make guesses, then. Let me see... a beauty like thine own wouldst have a beautiful name. Marian doth be the most beautiful, of course, but there are others. Gwennyth? Meridith?"

Mine ears positively glowed now, as I realized that he wouldst guess all women's names. That he wouldst never guess rightly wouldst save me from some embarrassment, but only at the cost of embarrassment of a different sort — a lonelier sort, for if no other felt either side of it then I must perforce be the only one who felt both sides at once.

Twas then that our food arrived at last, saving me from enduring more of Robin's guesswork. For a time conversation ceased as we enjoyed our meals. The food was not the freshest I've had, but twas tasty enough. Robin was quite pleased with his own, proclaiming that the French hath for once done something better than any Englishman ever had. Our friends had little left on their plates by then, but they took the opportunity to eat what was there. Phil had trouble with his fork, to no-one's surprise, and punctuated each time it slipped his grasp with mutters that we were all too polite to call him on for content.

"It's a good thing we're all herbivores here," Buck said. "I'm not sure what my reaction would be to eating with a wolf or a lion or something across the table. Too afraid of being the meal, I think."

"Be not hasty with thy judgments," Robin advised around a beakful of bread. "We didst stay briefly with a friend at his house, and he hath become part tiger. Yet we didst not fear for our feathers."

"I daresay that wouldst depend on the person," I pointed out. "Some may well try to eat such as me and thee. Each shalt need to be approached cautiously until we doth be sure of their minds."

"Struth."

"Why didn't you stay with your friend?" Phil asked. "I'm sure staying there would be safer, at least for the next few days until things settle down."

"Or stabilize, anyway," Buck said.

"We were chased from his home. Though not by him!" I added hastily at the looks upon their faces.

At that Robin didst launch into a telling of our escape from Xanadu, the ride to Scott's house, and the battle with the Kestagian Mage. This last came complete with pantomimed throws and shakes at the appropriate times. My mate didst tell the tale ten times better, and with a hundred times the verve, than surely I wouldst have.

"Are you sure he said he was a ''Kestagian'' Mage?" Buck asked, leaning forward.

"So he claimeth."

"Doth this be important?" I asked. "Hath thee dealings with such ere now?"

"Not as such, no. There were no such things before today, remember." Robin and I both nodded understanding — though it seemed even I needed reminding now and again. "But I do know of them. I was an avid gamer before this all happened, after all. Still am, I guess."

I nodded thoughtfully, seeing where this was headed. But Robin cocked his head, puzzled. "What sorts of games didst thou play? And what hath this to do with our adversary?"

"Role-playing games," Buck said. "People generally sit around a table and play characters on a quest, and a lot of actions, like trying to hit someone with a sword, are determined by dice rolled and used against the statistics of the wielder and the target. It's pretty complicated, and fairly irrelevant except for one thing.

"You see, these things come with tons of pre-made monsters to fight against at the gamemaster's choosing. And I remember seeing a listing for a 'Kestagian Mage' in one of the books."

Now this was news! "You know, then, what they art! And how to defeat them!" I exclaimed, clapping mine hands merrily.

"No. They're monsters for ''Traps and Treasures''. It's a D&D competitor, but it's not very good. The formulas are badly flawed, making most things either too underpowered to be useful or so overpowered as to be ridiculous. I've stayed away from playing it. But I was browsing through one of its rulebooks some months back, and I remember seeing an entry for 'Kestagian Mage.'"

"Dost thou remember ''anything'' about them?" Robin pressed. "Any knowledge you giveth wouldst be more than we have now."

The deer thought for a few moments. "Well, they're undead, for one thing, D&D's equivalent of a lich. So fire might do some damage, though I doubt it'd kill one. I remember that they had different powers and weaknesses than liches, too, but not what they are."

So. We didst know a bit more, then, of the one that pursueth us. Mayhap we had a weapon, mayhap not. But knowing it didst come from a game told me how best to proceed. On the morrow, however. Twas far too late now.

"Thankee for thine help," I said to them.

"No problem," Buck replied dismissively. "I didn't help all that much, after all."

"Nay, thou has aided us greatly," said Robin, "and provided fine company besides. Truly doth I call thee friends."

"Well, thanks. Ah, here's the check," Phil said, and paused. "Um, do you have the money to pay for this?"

"Of course," I said, and took a few silver pennies from mine purse. "This, methinks, shouldst suffice for such a meal as that."

"And a bit more, I'd say," Phil said slowly, eyeing the coins. "But most places don't take silver. That is real silver, right?"

"Of course."

"Right. I think I'd better pay for this one."

It hurt mightily to have our meals bought for us as if we were paupers. Still, I didst understand the need, though I didst give him the coins in exchange. In turn, he didst allow us to sleep in his trailer for the night, rather than seeking out an inn. Twas a grand gesture, as he wouldst of a certainty have been caught up in things had the evil mage tracked us down once more. Thus I didst give him a full gold shilling, for I judged the risk didst not be small.

His trailer was in the parking lot, the size of a small peasant's hut. Twas towed by a car much like Sam's, but newer. "Buck and I got together at my place in Tennessee a week ago," Phil explained, "and drove down here for the con. Now I hope to get far enough north that we'll be out of any large-scale quarantine that the feds might try to set up."

Twas a bit cramped inside at first, for it had only been built to sleep two. Phil graciously gave us the beds, taking the car's seat for himself since he was so much smaller. Buck was relegated to a handful of blankets in its cargo bed.

The next morning we ate at Denny's once more, for if the staff was less than congenial at least we were assured service. We didst not desire wasting time in searching about for a place that might do us better. The only difference from our orders of last night was that I joined my mate in having french toast. Horses eat grains, I reasoned, and breads art grains. Thus I thought the choice safe, and was indeed proved right. Twas a nice change from greens.

After we broke our fast we gathered at Phil's car to journey. In truth Robin and I rode in the trailer. We drove but a short distance before halting briefly, and then we were off once more. But again the trip was short, at least as measured in time, before we stopped. This time Phil and Buck entered the trailer with us.

"Well, here I think we part ways," Phil said. "You told us you needed to find a few things, so I'll let you off here. And until you get some of those coins exchanged for cash... well, this should tide you over for a few days." He pressed a handful of bills into Robin's wing.

"My thanks to ye, good sir," Robin said, and bowed. "Ye hath been the very essence of hospitality. But this is overmuch! Tis we who give out money to those in need!"

They laughed. "True enough," Phil said, and Buck nodded his agreement. "But Lady Marian, here, already gave me more in gold and silver than I just gave you. Keep that in mind, by the way; a few of these coins should last you a week or more. Don't waste 'em on trivial crap."

"Language, good sir! There doth be a Lady present."

"Ah. Yes. And to her I offer my apologies."

"Fret not. I hath no doubts that I shalt hear far worse in my life," I said. Then, "But why dost thou leaveth us? Art thou so eager to part ways?"

Buck shook his head emphatically. "No, it's got nothing to do with you, except maybe indirectly. As he said, you need a few things, so we're dropping you off here. But there's no way we're going in. Way, way too many people."

"I also still want to get ahead of any quarantine," Phil added, ears twitching anxiously. "I didn't hear of any on the radio — except for the convention center itself, that is — and it'd be kind of late to set one up now, but who knows? Nobody ever said the feds were smart."

When we stepped outside, we didst find ourselves in a truly enormous field of cars, set before a windowless building the size of a palace. I giggled. "Verily this doth be the perfect place to set us," I told them. "We shalt find all we need here." We said our fare-thee-wells and watched them drive off, and then made our way to the entrance of the mall.

Inside was a wonder, though moreso to Robin than mine own self. He stood a while gaping at the marvelous place even as people gaped at us. "Gawk later, love," I told him. "We shalt have time after our chores are over. How much money didst friend Phil give unto us?"

"This much," he said, handing over the bundle of folded paper.

All told, twas a full thousand dollars between mine hooflets. I wondered briefly if the rabbit had truly given us less than he gained, but I had been not exact regarding exchange rates e'en before this change, and with Marian's knowledge and memories blurring mine own twas impossible to say. Besides, they hath already gone, so twas little use worrying over the fairness of the exchange.

Still, I knew that this was no small sum. Twould surely tide us over for a week or two, or even three were we careful. I placed it all in my purse; Robin was a good man, and a wonder for gaining cash, but generally helpless when it came to holding onto it.

I still was displeased at the loss of my dress and having to walk about, I felt, barely clothed. Thus our first chores was to find me a new dress. And chore it was. The propetiers were little help. Those that didn't shy away from our approach couldst only show what they had, and what they had wouldst show more fur than cloth, as often as not. Not that Robin wouldst mind me trying one of them!

After a long search I relented, and tried one of the garments. The woman aiding me seemed to think it too dowdy, but at least it covered a decent amount of flesh. Much to my surprise — and Robin's, and most notably the merchant's! — upon fastening the last button the cloth seemed to melt and run along mine body. Its color changed from a brown that matched my fur to a light blue, with frills and lace. I couldst feel another layer of skirts unfurling about my legs, until in the end I wore a gown fitting for one of my station and a beautiful style that I much enjoyed.

A few trials proved that anything I wore wouldst behave in this way, though each dress changed in a different manner. Though Robin was sore disappointed at the loss of seeing me in modern garb, I was well pleased, for I thus wouldst not require custom tailoring in order to own suitable clothes. And since the dresses reverted upon removal, they were much simpler to store and lighter to carry.

The next task was to find Robin a new bow. After a few inquiries we found there was a good-sized sporting goods store in the mall. And amongst all the various balls and shirts and jackets was a wall full of equipment for hunting. Decoys, scents, camouflage, bullets and bows. Verily, quite a few bows.

"Hath thee any guns?" Robin asked the young lad behind the counter.

"Um... uh, no. No," he stammered. The boy looked like he hath been struck on the head, the way he looked at us was so peculiar. "We got ammo, but the chain won't let us sell the actual weapons inside a mall." He scratched his head in thought, looking so comically puzzled that I couldst not restrain the giggles that escaped mine lips. "What do you want with a gun, anyway? Robin Hood used... whatchamacallem... arrows."

"Indeed so! But... ah, well. Another time, perchance." Robin shrugged. "Since I am an archer, I doth require a bow. Bring out your finest, so that I might try a wing on it."

"Uh... wing. Right." In short order the lad — his name, according to the tag on his breast, was Howard, and he fit the name — set down two bows on the counter before us. One was of the familiar double-curved sort, though made of hard plastic instead of good English yew. The other was some contraption that didst seems more pulleys than bow.

"And what is that, then?" Robin cried. He picked it up and turned it about in his hands to marvel at.

"Um, it's called a, a compound bow."

"It doth look more belike to a ship's rigging than a weapon!"

"I think thou hath hit on it, love," I said. "Tis likely that is how twas devised."

Robin was shown how to change the tension on the bowstring. He immediately tested his might against the full strength of the draw, and found it to be to his satisfaction. Twas a great improvement over the old type he hath been used to, he declared. And when he learned it fired with strength greater than it drew, his mind was set. He wouldst never willingly use regular bows again.

We bought the compound bow, after some time testing to see if this one was indeed the best of the lot. We also didst buy some dozens of arrows. They were made of metal, which we thought odd. ("Wooden arrows sometimes shatter when shot from a compound bow, sometimes even in the air. They're just too weak to take the bow's power," Howard told us, which impressed us both all over again.) And lastly, we bought the tools and waxes and glues necessary to properly maintain the weapon, along with a variety of arrowheads. They were perforce necessary, but strangely not sold with the arrows.

Between Robin's purchases and mine own, we had used up over half of Phil's largesse. But there was still one more place of import, one more visit to make ere we could rest and eat our midday meal.

"This is a place of mystic research?" Robin asked doubtfully as he took in the mess. Thin rectangular boxes were stacked everywhere, interspersed liberally with puzzles and more esoteric items. "The clutter doth seem aright for a wizard's den, but the things look not mystical to mine eyes."

"Still, tis the place."

"Oh, my God! Awesome!" This from the person behind the counter. Short and thin, he was even younger than was Howard; I doubted a razor hath touched his chin more than a dozen times. "I'd heard about that convention yesterday, I wish I'd gone! I had the greatest costume for Halloween, too..."

"After all the worried, frightened looks we had gotten since yesterday, the boy's sheer envy was a welcome relief. Still, we had wandered long, and were weary. Twas a poor state in which to properly receive a fan.

Thankee. Truly, thankee," I said with a curtsey. "But we hath need of thine assistance."

"Really? Oh, God. This is so cool!" he gushed. "Oh, I'm Max. Pleased to meetcha! Welcome to The Gamesman!"

"Thankee. I -"

"So whacha need help with? An RPG, right? You guys became characters from a game! That's so cool! What system?"

"Uh..." I faltered to a halt. Max's enthusiasm was becoming overwhelming.

"'Traps and Treasures,'" Robin supplied.

"Yes. Thankee, love."

Max's face screwed up like he had bitten into a beef pie and found it filled with offal. "Why would you use ''that'' system? It's a piece of shit!"

Robin's voice was dangerously low when he said, "Watch thy tongue, child, lest I cut it off. Tis a Lady ye speak to!"

Max blanched when he realized Robin's eyes were hard and one wing rested on the knife at his side. "Uh, s-sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean... uh, this way!"

"Many thanks."

We found but three books under the 'Traps and Treasures' title, and one was a duplicate of another. Max didst apologize profusely for the lack of choice, telling us at length how the store was phasing out the system from its shelves. He acted as if afraid we wouldst grow offended at him for it. Twas a pitiful sight, like a puppy kicked and now afraid even as it was still eager to please.

We were well pleased to buy the two books and be away from him.

Lunch was a noisy affair, loud enough that my ears were laid flat as we ate. Robin had a beef burrito, whereas I needs must satisfy myself with one filled merely with beans and rice. I was unsure if horses ate such fare, and thus it was something of an experiment. So far it was turning out well enough. I was glad that vegetarian dishes hath become increasingly popular over the last few years, making the available dishes tolerably broad.

I watched him eat his food with envy, despite the disgustingly meaty odors wafting from his side of the table. Twas most unfair. Twas my idea, my work, my costumes, yet twas he who hath all the gains. Wit, skill with many weapons, and he couldst even fly, or at least glide for a bit. And what hath I? A major dietary restriction, hooves, and a dress. True, like my love Robin I had gained some skills, but embroidery was useless, as was the ability to efficiently run a castle staff (unless I didst somehow become manager of a large hotel, I reckoned). That I had a shapely body and had retained my own mind to some degree seemed little comfort.

All the walking about the mall's hard floors had made mine hooves sore. I sighed and rubbed my aching fetlocks, and tried hard to ignore the stares of fascinated and curious shoppers so I couldst concentrate on the books.

That was another good thing — though in reality it shouldst be considered the lack of a bad thing. I couldst still read. Robin, it turned out, couldst not.

Twas therefore up to me to pore over the volumes in search of information that might prove useful. The task was not quick, even once I found the area pertaining to Kestagian Mages, for what I needed was inconveniently spread out amongst multiple chapters.

"Listen to this," I told him, interrupting his inspection of the silk plant next to our table. "A Kestagian Mage is an evil wizard that doth be powerful enough to place his soul in a container for safekeeping. No reason doth be given for why it must be an evil mage, I shouldst add. At any rate, this maketh him effectively immortal. Ye canst do anything thy wish to him, but his essence will remain, and it casnt cast healing spells on whatever doth be left of his body, even were it merely ash."

"So it doth be unstoppable."

"Nay. Remember this doth be a game, and tis a poor game that doth not ever let the player win."

"I knoweth some games like that. And by all reports, this doth be a poor game."

I giggled. "Verily, verily. Thou shouldst see what such artifacts as the Rock of Rama-Lama or the Sceptre of Sidhe-Baup canst do! But tis not the case this time, or not in that way. The creature's weakness is his Aelpa. Which is what it thought you had, and I daresay it may be correct."

Robin cocked his head. "Oh?"

"Tis what the game hath named the vessel for the thing's soul. Tis always a diamond, and a mage who has a Kestagian's Aelpa canst do certain things to or with the creature. Cast spells through him like an artifact, using the Kestagian's magic rather than his own. Control him, bind him, or of course destroy him."

Robin's eyes turned thoughtful. "I canst see why our little friend wouldst be so eager to regain it, then. Let us see what I hath in the way of diamonds."

For one terrible moment, as Robin reached for the bag full of gems and jewelry at his side, I didst imagine he was going to simply dump the contents out on the table. But all he didst was to open the drawstring and poke through it with one wing, much like a child examining his marbles. Every now and again he wouldst snatch something from within, but it remained discretely in his palm.

At the end of it, twas a total of seven gems deposited on the tray. The smallest was a circle perhaps a quarter of an inch across; the largest was shaped like an elongated teardrop, and was nearly two inches in length.

"So, then," Robin mused aloud, "all we must do is find the correct diamond amongst these and smash it, and he shalt be undone?" He fingered the largest. "Twould be a true shame, were this the one."

"Nay. It wouldst not be."

"What? But of course it wouldst! See here, tis a gem unsurpassed!"

"Ye misunderstand me. This," I said, tapping the pages with a hooflet, "says the gem cannot be destroyed by normal means. Tis only vulnerable to magic."

"Then we find a mage..."

I shook my head. "All those at Xanadu wouldst have scattered ere now, and I know not of others. Another way dost be to restrain the enemy, and then maketh him swallow it. With his soul within his body once more, he canst be killed by whatever means thou desire."

"Dost thou have any ideas how to restrain a mage who doth not will it?"

I paused for long moments, frowning. "Nay. The game doth assume there wouldst be a mage in the party."

"Methinks it a foolish assumption," Robin said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Doth there be anything else told about him, or his Aelpa?"

"Quite a bit," I said, and flipped to a new chapter. "The Aelpa does many things, but two of real interest to us. The first is that it allows him to effortlessly assume a disguise, usually that of a normal human. Methinks that is why we doth not remember him from Xanadu; he looked like any other person with a lot of jewelry. But the main tidbit wouldst be how it is tracked by its true owner."

"Ah!"

"Yea, verily tis how he didst find us. If we like, we canst simply discard the diamonds and be done with him." I didst not like the notion of leaving an evil mage free to wreck what havoc he willed, but I felt the option needs must be exposed.

Robin's beak somehow managed a frown. "Nay... I want him dealt with. I didst not much like how he treated thee."

"Agreed, on both counts," I said. "But there is one very interesting thing to note, regarding the tracking. To wit, his accuracy in knowing his Aelpa's location doth be of ''inverse'' proportion to its distance from him!"

"I doth not be sure I understand thee..."

"I meaneth that when he is ten miles away from it, he canst pin its location down to the inch, for whatever good it does. He canst point straight at it," I said, and demonstrated. "At a mile, he knoweth where it is to within a foot. But at a thousand feet he canst only tell that it is somewhere in a ten-foot cube — and he canst not be certain it doth be at the center, either. And when he doth get to within a hundred feet of it -" and now I smiled "- he canst only tell that he is within a hundred feet. Beyond that he simply canst not get a better fix."

Robin thought on that for a few moment. "He still canst find it by traversing the boundary at a hundred feet," he mused. "He couldst find the center that way."

"True enough. I suspect that most of the people running this game assumeth it to be a gradual decrease in accuracy, with these measurements as milestones of sorts. But that doth not be how tis written, and I am unsure how the curse would translate it. But e'en if it shouldst be a sharp jump like thou noticed, our opponent must think of the tactic before he canst use it, and I hath not been too impressed by his cleverness yet."

"Nor I, now that ye mention it."

"Exactly. And thus I think I have a plan for how to handle this."

Robin sat up straighter in his chair and sent a sharp look my way. "''Thou'' hath a plan for battle? A woman?"

I blew him another raspberry. "Thou hath no cause to look so surprised, dear! I doth not be just some pretty mare to hang off your arm and embroider thine shirts for thee!"

"My apologies, dear Lady." Robin actually stood and bowed to me. "I didst not mean to mock. What, then, is thy plan?"

It didst not take long to tell, for twas quite simple. Robin pointed out a few flaws, made a few suggestions, and asked no small number of questions. But there was little preparation needed. We had only to wait.

That night, as the mall was near to closing, we casually strolled into one of the department stores and headed towards the rear. Twas there that the bathrooms were, but we didst avoid them for the same reason we avoided the changing rooms scattered about the store: workers were savvy enough by now to check those after hours. Instead we went to one of the janitor's closets. Robin picked the lock with some hairpins we'd bought earlier, and we slipped inside unnoticed. Other than a quick check to confirm that it didst not lock on the inside, our task was simply to keep silent and wait once more.

Twas very dark in there, and I actually dozed for some time. I was awakened by a feathery nudge. "They hath been gone for nearly an hour," he whispered. "I thinketh that be long enough."

I nodded, then remembered that birds hath poor night vision. He couldst not possibly see me. "We art lucky the mage hath waited this long. We shouldst hurry, now."

Without another word Robin cracked open the door to peer outside. It must have met his satisfaction, for the rest of him followed a moment later. By the time I blinked my eyes into adjusting themselves to the greater light — twas dim, but far brighter than the closet — Robin had already crossed the hall and was picking the yet another lock with a remarkable skill and silence.

I said a silent prayer to the Lord that the hinges wouldst not squeak as they moved.

They didst not. Robin entered the room beyond silently and unobserved whilst I stayed motionless outside, lest the clops of mine hooves give the game away. There was a cry from within, then a soft thump. My heart raced, hoping... and then Robin poked his beak back into the hallway. "Tis clear, now."

I entered, and took in the sight. A young woman in a security guard's uniform lay sprawled on the floor. Above her was a bank of monitors, numbering half a dozen. Notebook full of paperwork lined the shelves along one wall.

"Surely thou hath not..." I gestured at the woman.

Robin shook his head. "She merely sleeps, though her head shalt ache terribly on the waking."

I released a breath I didst not realize I held. What we had already done was bad enough, but killing her wouldst have made our future very tenuous indeed. "Tie her and gag her, then, whilst I search for the proper notebook."

There was no rope in the security center, of course, so he resorted to tying her hands with a power cord cut from a radio. Before he dragged her off to confine her in the same closet we'd just left, I made sure to take the nametag from her lapel. I wouldst need it soon.

Finally I didst find the correct page of the correct notebook. "Say nothing," I reminded Robin. He nodded, and I took a deep breath. This wouldst be the most difficult part of the night, other than the battle itself. If I made an error here, things wouldst likely turn out very poorly indeed — and an error was more likely than not.

I read the numbers from the page one more time, memorizing them. Then I reached for the phone and dialed.

"AmerAlarm," the woman on the other end said pleasantly. "This is Michelle Young. How can we help you?"

"Hey, hi Michelle. This is account 15539-2377. Could you put all the alarms and alerts on hold, please?" I concentrated furiously on the words as I spoke them. Twas a major effort to speak this way, without any Olde English at all seeping into mine speech.

"Certainly, ma'am. Do you have the pass code there with you?"

"That I do. It's, ah, 612934."

"Thank you," Michelle replied. "And how long do you want this to go for?"

"Until 0800," I said, making sure to use modern military time. I couldst feel sweat on my brow at the effort of saying things correctly. "We're going to be running some tests all night."

"All right, you're all set. And what is your name, please?"

"Sandy. Sandy Middleton," I told her, reading from the nametag.

"Got it. The police will not be called in on any alarms or alerts until eight o'clock tomorrow. Thank you for calling AmerAlarm, Miss Middleton!"

"Thanks a lot. Later!" I hung up the phone and dropped heavily into the chair. (Thankfully, there was an actual opening that didst fit my tail well.) Twas done! All those years of watching cop shows had just paid off. I wiped the sweat off and smiled reassuringly at my mate.

"I am most glad twas thee who made the call," he said gravely. "I could never have spoken as thou just hast."

I nodded wearily. We were lucky the guard had been a woman and we both knew it — even if it had pained Robin to strike her down from behind. And it had, I knew.

Once I had collected myself we left the room. I had to step over the broken broomhandle Robin had wedged beneath the closet's doorjamb on the way out to the store proper, but otherwise paid it no mind.

The sound of my hooves against the tile floor was eerie in the silence. The store was nearly all dark, with only patches of light at the exits and a few places within. It lent the place a downright spooky air. I hoped twould not be a long wait. I had waited enough that day, and was tired of it.

Thankfully, the department I was to wait in was well lit. It made sense enough — the jewelry section hath perhaps the highest-priced items in the store. And twould do well for the plan, as well. What it wouldst do for me was another matter.

We didst not bother to pick any locks, this time. We simply smashed the glass cases open. Somewhere, most probably back in the security room, alarms began to sound, but we ignored them. Twas a wondrously seductive feeling, to wreck such damage with neither restraint nor worry of interruption.

But twas not without purpose. The cases needed to be open for my plan to work, and the diamonds on display wouldst be difficult to find amongst all the broken glass. To make it harder yet we removed the dark felt trays at the cases' bottoms. We didst not take any jewelry, however, and it had not been easy at all to convince Robin of ''that'' aspect, for certain!

That done, twas nothing left to do. I kissed Robin's cheek once for luck, then he jogged away to take his position.

I may have been — I ''was'' — tired of waiting, but that didst not mean I was done with it. For a long time I simply stood there, or paced. Twas no small risk for me to be standing there in that pool of light like a worm on a hook.

For twas exactly the role I filed: bait. With me here, amongst the ruined cases, the mage wouldst have little choice but to believe we had hidden his Aelpa in amongst the more common diamonds. A purloined letter, of sorts. And thus he wouldst be forced to search the wreckage for it, leaving himself open for Robin to play ''his'' role.

We couldst only hope I was not killed before he could.

And so I stood, and paced, and worried. Mine thoughts and fears ran wild. Wouldst he come? Wouldst we know it? Or doth he have some magical means of arrival we wouldst never detect? Couldst we even defeat him, or was this a futile effort?

When doth the guard's relief show up?

My eyes widened as I realized I had failed to consider it. But the shifts were likely a mere eight hours, and the logical time for a changeover wouldst thus be midnight, not eight o'clock.

Desperately I wheeled about, searching for a clock. But there was none. No doubt there were some in with the electronics, but in here there were only... I fair to leapt at a case and rooted through the shards for a watch.

11:22

Two other watches confirmed the time. We wouldst have to leave immediately were we to avoid the police. I tossed them back in the case and turned to leave, mouth open to call out.

Twas at that moment that I heard a voice from the darkness, not twenty paces distant. "So ''there'' you are," it rasped, instantly setting my fur on end. "But where, oh where, is good Robin Hood, hmm?"

That question was the one thing we couldst not adequately hide or explain away. Twas our main weakness, and our one hope — that he wouldst be too concerned over recovering his Aelpa to ask it — had just failed. "He left," I said simply, and stepped to one side. I couldst barely see him in the gloom, but it was clear enough that he had, whether by luck or design, approached from exactly the opposite side from where Robin lay, putting me in the line of fire.

"Sir Robin ran away? Brave, ''brave,'' Sir Robin?" the Kestagian mocked, and stepped into the light. If anything, he looked worse than he had last night. His head looked soft, like the skull was still too badly broken to hold the correct shape. "Now why don't I believe that?"

He gestured suddenly, and I flung myself to the floor in a tangle of skirts as a bolt of lightning crackled by overhead. There was the crunching of glass under a booted heel as the mage jumped the cases to get at me again. "Robin!" I cried desperately as I scrambled to get up, or at least around a corner. Why hath he not fired?

The soft-edged whir of an arrow cutting through the air answered that. It hit the decaying mage with a meaty smack, embedding itself perfectly where the heart shouldst be. He staggered back, forced by the impact to steady himself against a case.

But he didst not fall. "''There'' you are, Robin!" he cried out almost joyfully. "I almost started to believe her!" His hand moved, and something I couldst not rightly see flew from him at my love. There was a squawk, and the mage trotted his way, leaving me on the floor.

"I was worried, oh yes I was," he enthused. I gathered my skirts and took the opportunity to get out of the maze of displays. "Worried I wouldn't be able to pay you back for last night. Wasn't nice, running me over like that! Now I have to kill you, you know. You do know that, right?"

I couldst hear Robin as he ran along the aisles. Why had the mage not fallen? I had managed to fashion a pouch for the diamonds and attach it behind the missile's broadhead tip. That shouldst have been the end of it! What went wrong?

There was another whir, another meaty impact. Again it was met with laughter, not anguish. There was a whoosh and a flash as the Kestagian tossed fire from his fingertips. "You never learn, do you? That whole ambush, just to futilely shoot me again! You're pathetic!"

More arrows, another fireball. But this time there was a cry of pain — from Robin. The mage was ''playing'' with him, enjoying drawing out the hunt because he hath proven himself invulnerable to anything we couldst throw at him. Robin was still running around the outer aisles; if he kept this up he wouldst make a complete circuit of the store.

I began to trot, myself, trying hard to get away and keep ahead of them. The sound of mine hooves gave me away, but twould be even worse were I caught in the midst of this battle with no viable weapon, and no available weapon wouldst suffice. The smooth tile was not the best for running on, especially in the state of near-panic that was growing within me. I fell to mine knees as I skidded around one corner.

I sobbed once as I got up. Twas such a ''good'' plan! It didst not deserve to fail! ''We'' didst not deserve it, didst not deserve to be toyed with and ''tortured'' by a sadist who is himself immune from harm! But deserving or no, twas happening.

Another slip, another skid, this one violent enough to knock mine muzzle against the floor. Twas well it did, for it didst also knock some sense back into my skull. I looked around. My flight had taken me to the department in which Robin had hid himself: men's shoes. I stifled a giggle at the incongruous thought that mayhap I shouldst try some on so I couldst run better.

Tis then I noticed the lump, nearly right in front of my nose.

I snatched it up instantly and bounded to my hooves. Twas no wonder Robin's shot failed! The enormous force of the compound bow had ripped the pouch away from the arrow when he released his shot. On another day it might have been humorous, like some cartoon, but tonight it just may spell our downfall. But if I couldst get the diamonds to Robin, perhaps we might still live to see the morrow.

Now I trotted through the store with a different purpose. But when I rounded the last corner, my hoped crashed. The Kestagian was no longer enjoying the chase; he was enjoying the ''catch.''

As last night, Robin was held suspended in midair, legs and wings spread wide. There didst not be any lightning running through his feathers, yet patches had been burned away during the chase, leaving ugly wounds on the flesh beneath. And even as I watched a number of feathers flew away from his body, seemingly of their own accord, trailing blood as they sailed off.

"Gonna pluck you, little chicken," the mage gloated, and Robin jerked as another handful was ripped bloodily away. "I'll rip you apart and serve you for dinner! Then I'll find my Aelpa and make glue out of your dear, ''sweet'' love!"

Robin's roar of anguish couldst not possibly be due merely to the painful loss of his plumage. I couldst see his muscles bunch as he tried to free himself from whatever force held him. But his captor only glanced his way and his limbs thrust themselves to full extension — and beyond. It didst look like wings and legs wouldst be flying away next, not merely handfuls of feathers, and a red haze clouded mine sight.

Mine jog turned into a run, a sprint. I cared not at all for the noise mine hooves made now as I bolted for them. The mage was still intent on the torture of Robin — of my love, my mate, my life! He didst not turn at the sound of mine approach, not until I was a bare handful of yards away.

Despite the surprise evident on his face he still managed to raise a hand in my direction. Twas not enough time to fire off whatever spell he had in mind, however, before I slammed into him, knocking him back with all the force and weight of a pony. The air whuffed from his lungs as he reeled on his feet, and mine fist shot out to punch him. The fist holding the diamonds.

Horses art not weak creatures, even when they walked on two legs rather than four. The hard hooflets that covered the last joint of each finger wouldst make for a debilitating blow to anyone, shouldst I ever put the full strength of mine arms behind them. Panicked by the pursuit and enraged over my lover's torture, twas devastating. Mine hand hit his chest and kept going through skin already weakened by rot and a multitude of arrows. His ribs crunched beneath my hooflets as I followed through.

The creature looked down at his chest, at mine arm plunging deep into it. Slowly he backed himself away, and my arm emerged from within with a sickening slurp. But I had released the pouch, and all the diamonds remained somewhere in his body.

The game book had said to return a Kestagian's soul to him by somehow making him swallow his Aelpa. But it had also stated that life wouldst return to the mage once it was "within his body." Now he screamed, wailing loudly as life returned to his body — the same body that had been shot a dozen times and sported a gaping hole in its chest. Blood poured from his wounds, thick and foul-smelling. He collapsed to his knees and clutched feebly at his chest, perhaps to remove the pouch. But twas thrust deep. He wailed one last time, eyes full of disbelief, and died in a growing pool of blood.

I stood for long seconds over the body. Gore matted my fur to the elbow and had spattered all over my brand new dress, but I had eyes only on the body before me. As hard as it may have been for him to believe his life was over, twas even harder for me to believe I had been the one to end it.

Then I didst remember Robin, and I rushed to his side. He looked unwell, indeed not much better than the Kestagian. Patches of feathers had been burnt or ripped away, and he moved stiffly as he regained his feet.

"Is it dead?" he asked, his words sounding strange because he didst not dare move even his beak overmuch.

"Tis," I said, and kissed him full on the mouth. Neither beaks nor muzzles were well designed for it, but I didst manage. "And we art not. We hath won, love!"

"Wonderful. You did wonderful, dear."

"I daresay. Tis good to see you play the role of damsel in distress for once!"

He tried to give me a raspberry this time, but beaks art not built for them like muzzles. He settled for rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, but I fear we must... must away from this place." Robin swayed on his feet momentarily. "I need a place to recover."

"Mayhap we canst find a friendly inn this night," I suggested.

"Good. Yes. Then we canst plot out... our future plans. What doth we do about all those poor you told me about. Those ones without homes to put their fridges in."

I let him lean on me as we made our way to the emergency exit where we had stored our day's purchases. "Dost thou really think thou canst help so many people? Tis a noble goal, but..."

"I know not! Tis why I must plan! But I shalt say this for certain," he said, and even wounded he managed to trill an enthusiastic laugh, "I doth be Robin Hood! If anybody canst help the poor, tis I!"

I giggled, and poked him in the ribs. "Do not forget his sidekick, lover, and wife!"

"Ack! Mercy, my Lady! Nay, I shalt never forget thee!"

I smiled. "Good."

We stepped outside together, in each other's arms, and left the wailing of alarms at our backs.

<comments />

{{author endnote|I had helped Bryan work out some of the rules and differences between it and No More Fakes, a predecessor universe with a similar mass transformation at its center. But even after he posted the first Xanadu story, it was quite some time before I did this one. Bryan pretty much pressured me into making it, though, and suggested using one of my fursuits as the basis for it. It didn't take long for me to decide which one to use, but it did take a week or two of thinking before I managed to find a plot that was more than, "Ack, I'm no longer me, what will I do with my life now?" Once I managed that, though, the story took only a little while to write (well, for me it was only a little while), about a month. Other than the slight embarrassment of it being a transgender story (and the obvious corollary that I own and wear a fursuit of a female character), though, I'm happy with it. I especially like the title, which was suggested by good friend and author Phil Geusz.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest}}

Refamiliarization

2007-09-18T08:34:27Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

For the hundredth time that day I looked enviously around me at the multitudes of costumes wandering Kubla Con. Aliens and animals mixed with humans in uniforms out of popular science fiction shows and movies, and some of them were superb. But saving for cross-country airfare had eaten most of the funds I might have spent on a more complete outfit for myself.

At least I wasn't alone in my... uncostumedness, if that was even a word. I'd seen plenty of other people walking around without costumes, and even more had bought animal noses in order to get in the spirit of things, even minimally. I rubbed the equally minimalist horns glued to my forehead absently for a moment before snatching my hand away. So the sparsity of my outfit didn't stand out all that much.

That would change soon, at least a little. One of the dealers was selling sets of wings; mostly feathery white angel wings, but there were some black sets there as well, and a single pair of black batlike wings. With the convention ending tomorrow, I could afford to splurge a little on them, and even at a mere three feet across they were perfect.

When Jesse and I had heard that costuming was going to be a major part of this year's con, rather than the usual sideline, we'd decided to actually wear something, even if it was minor. After some thinking, we decided to walk around as the characters we played every Tuesday and Thursday in our gaming sessions. Jesse's was easy: a gray wig, a staff, some robes, and a leatherbound book were all that was needed to make him into a passable wizard.

Coming as my character was a bit more problematical, because Kyr was a dragon. I had entered only recently into a campaign that had been underway for almost three years, so I'd had to find some way for my new character to join up with the party. I did it by getting caught burglarizing the party mage's tower. Gray the wizard, Jesse's character, had been justifiably upset that Kyr had managed to kill his old dragon familiar, and so the thief took up the role instead. My character made for a somewhat underpowered dragon, but Kyr's power levels were just about right to fit in with the rest of the party of seasoned, experienced adventurers.

But there had been no way I could afford the several hundred — or several thousand — dollars I'd have needed to buy a full dragon suit. So I'd made do with a set of rubber horns and some painted-on scales in a few places, and simply pretended I was Kyr before Gray's "essence transference" spell, which had given Kyr the familiar's form and powers, had taken more than token effect.

Finally, ''finally,'' the fat woman in front of me gave up on knocking the price of her purchases down another twenty bucks and just paid up. The guy on the other side of the table smiled apologetically as he turned to me. "Sorry about that. So, after a set of wings, eh? Part of your costume?"

"They will be, yeah." I set my credit card down with a plastic snap. He snatched it up and began processing it.

"You a demon?"

I grimaced. "Naw." I hated being mistaken for a demon, even if it was a fair guess. "Dragon. Well, part dragon."

"Gonna be a bit more dragon in a minute. Ah! There we go. Sign here?"

It was impossible to stop my mouth from spreading to a wide grin as I turned away, wings in hand. I couldn't wait to try them on.

Without warning a child a few feet ahead of me squealed and doubled over. The gray plastic mouse nose that had overlain his own seemed to ripple, and gray fur spread rapidly back from it even as he shrank. In the space of a second or two he vanished from sight, engulfed in clothing.

"Jimmy?" his mother cried, looking at the pile openmouthed. "Jimmy!"

All around me were cries of surprise and fear. Here and there the sound was cut off, or transmuted into some other noise.

I looked around wildly. Had someone dropped LSD into all the water pitchers? Right in front of me people were changing, turning into elves and robots and animals; some of the latter seemed to stop partway through. Those people who were unaffected, like myself, were staring at them in shock.

What finally convinced me it was real, that people were really changing into their costumes, was that even some of those who ''had'' changed were looking around with stunned expressions. They were looking down at their own hands and bodies, too — and none of the people who hadn't been affected were looking at themselves. The idea that a hallucination could possibly be this... consistent was absurd.

"Holy shit!" I said. My voice was soft, but it was very, very heartfelt.

I could hear shouts and screams in the hallway outside as people began to panic. There were other sounds, too: gunshots and high-pitched whines that immediately made me think of lasers, along with bellows of anger or pain. It must be all the people at the awards ceremony, I realized. A sinking feeling grew in my stomach as I thought of all the people in costume that must have been crammed into that one room, and I thanked God Jesse and I hadn't gone. We'd been interested enough in ''seeing'' the costumes, and had thus attended the masquerade yesterday, but it mattered little to us who won. And by the sound of the chaos outside the dealer's room, it was a good thing, too.

Not that there was no chaos and panic in here. Several people (and other things) had already bolted for the exits. But the dealer's room had been largely empty, thanks to the awards ceremony, and it seemed to have affected the response. By and large people reacted like they might to a fire drill after actually smelling smoke. Urgently, but not hysterically.

Still, it would be a good idea to get out of there. At the very least I wanted to find Jesse. Last I'd seen, he was heading over to the game room to get in a few last sessions. It wasn't all that far away, but to get there I'd have to get through the mess in the halls.

It turned out to be a surprisingly simple task. It was more a mob than a riot, really; people were panicked but not actually violent. The greater difficulties were simply to avoid getting in anyone's way, which might ''make'' them belligerent, and keeping myself from tripping and getting trampled. Beyond that all I needed to do was to peel away into the corridor leading to some of the other rooms of interest, including the game room, rather than let myself be swept to the exit along with most everyone else.

A dozen or so people were at the game room talking animatedly about what had just happened, but it still felt like an island of calm amidst the chaos. It probably helped that few people who were interested in gaming had worn costumes in the first place, though there were exceptions. Jesse, of course, was one of them, and I found him easily at one table, surrounded by other gamers.

"Ash!" he shouted in greeting as I entered. He stood and abandoned the conversation to greet me, somewhat to the annoyance of the others, I saw. "Jeez, man, it's good to see you. I was worried."

He took a seat at an empty table. "Yeah," I said as I took a chair opposite him. "It's kinda crazy out there. Looks like you guys are fine, though." While it was noisier than usual even for the game room, it was clear that nobody had really lost it when the change hit. Nothing was smashed or even overturned.

"Well, we're not going nuts, it that's what you mean," Jesse said, confirming my earlier thoughts, and a few nearby heads nodded agreeably. "I wouldn't really call this ''fine,'' though!"

At that he gestured sharply at his face. For a few seconds I saw nothing wrong with it. It was simply the weatherbeaten, slightly past prime face of the wizard Gray. Then it hit me, and I reeled back as if struck. This was the ''face'' of Gray, not Jesse made up as him. The are lines were no longer makeup, the locks of white hair had not been bleached.

"Jeez, you're really him, aren't you?" I asked softly. "You turned into Gray."

"Yeah. Dammit, I look like I'm fucking fifty!"

"Isn't Gray more like a hundred fifty?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, around there. Hundred forty-one, I think. But I look fifty. I ''feel'' fifty! How am I supposed to get a date, now?"

Now it was my turn to shrug. "Older guys get married too. My uncle met his wife when he was forty-six." I smiled encouragingly. "Besides, there's probably a lot of prestige in dating a wizard! As useful as engineers and rarer than rock stars."

Jesse looked at me like I was an idiot. "Don't be a dick." It was odd to hear those words coming from that face. Incongruous. "It's not like I'm really a wizard. I can't ''actually'' cast any spells. Hell, magic doesn't exist."

"Oh, really. Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

He snorted, then nodded, acknowledging the point. "And have you?"

I shook my head no. "I didn't change."

His eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, really," he said in his best imitation of my voice.

"Yes, really. If I had changed, I would be a dragon." I pointedly looked down at myself, arms spread wide. "Do you see a dragon sitting across from you?"

"Of course not. But what do you call these, hmm?" I looked up in time to see him leaning across the table, arm extended towards me. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing he flicked his forefinger at my scalp. But instead of striking flesh there was a distinct click, and I felt the vibration travel down into my skull. But it was hardly the same thing as tapping the skull itself.

"Holy shit!" I said again. My hands flew up to my forehead and felt the horns poking out of my skin there. It was immediately obvious they were made of bone now, not rubber. I gave one a few experimental tugs, but they were firmly attached. Indeed, I actually winced when I tried to twist it.

"You didn't know?"

"No! In all the mess I forgot about them." I looked at the miniature pair of wings on the table beside me. "I guess those are kind of moot now. Damn, they weren't cheap, either..."

Jesse laughed. "Maybe not! Maybe if you put them on you'll have a nice set of wings! Have you thought of that?"

I hadn't. I rolled the idea around for a moment before shaking my head. "No, thanks. I don't feel like being part of a freak show. Horns are enough for me. More than enough."

"You have scales, too, you know."

I looked. The patches of charcoal gray I had brushed onto the backs of each hand glistened, now; the lines separating one scale from another were deep fissures, rather than mere black paint. "Shit." The rest of my hand was unaffected; the scales faded back to skin exactly where I had stopped painting. I ran my fingers over one patch. It felt smooth, but just short of being slick. I could feel my fingers, too, but faintly. Dragon scales were supposed to be tougher than skin; apparently they were less sensitive, as well.

Jesse was looking at me with a peculiar expression on his now-wrinkled face. It took me a moment to realize he was expecting something, another to recognize exactly what. "That feels... weird. Kind of like being touched through clothes, but not. Just... weird."

It wasn't a really good description, but it was the best I could do. And it seemed to satisfy him, judging by his thoughtful nod. "You have some here, too," he said, touching his forehead. He waited for me to feel between my horns (two words that will take some getting used to!), but I believed him well enough to resist the temptation. Eventually he asked, "Anything else different?"

"On me?" He nodded, and I thought it over briefly. "No... I don't think so. That's all the costume I wore."

"Even... you know. There?"

"What?" But I knew what he meant even before I was finished with the single syllable. Kyr had been a man before he took op Gray's previous familiar's position and powers and form. But the old familiar had been a ''female'' dragon, and the gamemaster had decided that that aspect would be transferred over as well.

I hadn't really minded, at the time. It was only a character, after all. (Said character, of course, ''did'' mind, and he'd gained a few personality quirks and mannerisms thanks to it.) Still, that was just a game, and this was real.

But a hasty check revealed everything was still where it should be. "Nothing wrong there," I said. "Nothing changed but the parts I costumed, thank God."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Oh, heck yeah."

We both fell silent. I found myself rubbing a horn as I contemplated exactly what to do next.

{{Separator|stars}}

"This is intolerable! Idiots! Morons! What the hell do they think this will accomplish?"

"They think it'll keep us all in one place where they can keep an eye on us," I said, not bothering to look up from the television to where Jesse pointed. I knew quite well what I'd see out the window, after all, since it had been there for the last two days. Our hotel room had a wonderful view of the police mobile headquarters that had been set up nine stories down and across the street, where the cops were coordinating the quarantine they had set up. Nobody who had been affected at the con was supposed to get out (or in, though why anyone would return was beyond me). It was an open secret, though, that some were escaping anyway — there were shots on the news of a gargoyle or demon or something that was already flying around New York City, for one thing. Compared to all the various aliens, mages, and superheroes, not to mention all the things like that demon, things that could just fly over any cordon... well, the cops were simply out of their league.

There were persistent rumors that the National Guard, even the Army, were going to take over Any Time Now, but there was never any concrete information. There were also rumors that the quarantine would be lifted and everyone could go home. Almost nobody believed ''those'' stories, however. Surely the government wouldn't do something so obviously sensible.

"But it's stupid! Their cursed cordon leaks like a sieve!" Jesse ranted as he paced beside the bed.

"Yup."

"There's reports all over the place of things showing up. One was on Leno!"

"Yup."

"And our plane back was supposed to leave today. I don't suppose they'll let us catch our flight."

"Nope."

Jesse stopped stomping around the room long enough to glare at me. "And can you ''please'' give me something a little more than monosyllabic replies?"

"Sure." I paused just long enough for my friend to think that was all; making him go nuts was amusing enough to keep ''me'' from going stir crazy. When his mouth was open, ready to spew a heated rejoinder, I added, "When your statements deserve them." He shut his mouth with a snap; this was fun! "Besides, there's not a whole lot we can do about it."

Jesse smiled oddly at me. "That's what you think."

Then I did look squarely at him. I scratched the backs of my hands as I thought; the line between skin and scales itched nearly constantly. "What do you mean?" I eventually asked warily.

"I'm supposed to be a mage, right? I think it might be time to try one of the spells in my grimoire."

I sat up a little straighter, all itching forgotten. Now this was interesting! Every now and then Jesse had looked through the book that had become his repository of spells, muttering occasionally. Yet he hadn't cast a single one, hadn't even tried despite the growing evidence that people who'd been dressed as any kind of magic user had become able to cast spells. But if he was going to make an attempt at last... oh yes. Interesting, indeed.

"So which spell are you going to use?" I asked. "Something to disguise us as cops? Or, hey, do you have invisibility in there? You remember, the one that got us past that goblin horde last month?" I'd always wondered what it'd really be like to be invisible.

"No, no, no," Jesse said. He was flipping quickly through his spellbook. Suddenly he stopped and thrust it all me, all dramatic. "''This'' one."

I glanced at the page briefly before returning my gaze to him. "You know I can't read that crap." The blank pages that had filled the leatherbound book that Jesse had toted around as Gray's grimoire had been replaced by masses of runes and diagrams. I couldn't read a word of it. In fact, it made my eyes hurt to look at them for too long — which is to say, more than five seconds or so.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry." He had the grace to look embarrassed. But then his enthusiasm returned full bore. "It's Trakam's Teleportation!"

"Are you ''insane?''" I almost screamed. "There's a one-in-a-hundred chance of failure on that thing! And you want to cast ''that'' as your very first spell ever?"

"It won't be my first! I cast a few this morning while you were asleep."

"Really? Which spells?"

"Sangred's Silent Room and Ichanhor's Illusionary Disguise."

"Fine, you got some practice in. But if you screw up the Silent Room, all you get is a burst of noise, or a headache. Screw up on teleporting and it can get nasty."

"Well, yes," he admitted. "But just about ''anything'' above a fourth order spell can have some really bad consequences if the mage flubs it, so unless you think I'm incompetent and should keep to the tame stuff like light shows and lightening burdens, then we'll be taking that risk eventually."

He had a point, but I wasn't ready to admit that quite yet. "I just think you should practice some more. Build up to it."

"I've found, over the last few days, that I have some knowledge and instincts that I could only have gained from Gray. And he's a ninth order mage. So I'm pretty sure I can get this right."

"You're sure, huh?"

"Hey, I'm teleporting both of us, remember? It's my life, too. Sure, I'm sure."

I still had my doubts. He'd countered my most major objections, though; protesting further would only make me seem petty or cowardly. Worse, it'd just make him dig in his heels. "Let me pack first, will you?"

A few minutes later I dropped my bags at my feet, adjusted the baseball cap that hid my horns, and nodded to my friend. "Ready when you are."

Jesse had already packed. But he hadn't been idle. A circle six feet wide had been drawn on the carpet in pink chalk. A few lines crossed through the center in no pattern I recognized. "Stand in the circle, and try not to muss up the lines," he said.

"And the luggage?"

"You'll have to carry it."

I didn't realize, at first, that he meant I was to carry ''all'' the luggage. But he had to keep his arms free to make the gestures necessary to work the spell. Or so he said. So I had to hold four bags up off the carpet but within the circle's borders. I think I only managed because none was particularly large. Still, it wasn't easy. And it became even less easy when Jesse stepped in there with me.

"All right. Let's go."

I nodded. "Please, let's." None of the bags were heavy, but all four together was no small load. "By the way, where'd you get the chalk?"

"My pocket."

"But—"

"Shush."

I shushed.

Jesse’s voice began as a low murmur that I could barely hear and slowly grew. He spoke a language that I did not know and rather suspected didn't exist last week. His arms moved like a conductor's, flailing about in a way that suggested chaos at first glance but revealed patterns to those who continued to watch.

The room turned hazy, fading to gray nothingness. Even the carpet disappeared, though the chalk lines remained. It was just us and those lines, floating together in a sea of gray. We remained like that for what felt like several minutes, Jesse chanting all the while, before the familiar shapes of his living room began to fade in.

Then things started to go wrong.

The scene abruptly wavered like a television with bad reception and began to fade back into nothingness. At the same time, a bolt of nausea shot through my stomach and my legs felt like rubber, nearly making me stumble out of the circle. "Jesse..."

My friend's voice, already loud, became a shout and more insistent. Still things worsened. The grayness was darkening rapidly, and my hands and feet were beginning to tingle painfully. I could feel fire shooting up my limbs.

"Jesse!"

And just as suddenly, everything was fine. The nothingness vanished with a snap, replaced by the living room only glimpsed earlier. It all looked solid enough, though I stamped the floor to make sure. Yup. And the floor had the chalk circle on it now, I saw.

Jesse strode over to an easy chair and plopped into it heavily, head in his hands. I dropped the bags besides the couch before taking a seat. The corner of one bag, I noted, was missing. It had probably swung outside the circle when I stumbled. It was one of Jesse's. Serves him right.

"I think," he said in a shaky voice, "that I just rolled a ninety-nine."

Rolling one hundred would have been a critical failure, in the game. "Sounds about right," I said.

"Maybe I should practice a bit before I do any more major spells." His tone made it sound like it was the first time it had been proposed, and that it was his idea.

I looked down at the ruined bag, and the cross-section of its contents. "Yeah. You do that."

After the hectic events of the last few days, it was something of a relief to return to my simple job as a computer programmer. I had made no secret of going to a convention in Florida, and by the time I got back everyone on the planet had heard what had happened at that particular con. So it was no surprise when I was barraged with questions. What really happened? What was it like? How did I evade the quarantine? Was I affected at all? The first two questions I answered truthfully, for the most part, and enjoyed being the center of attention for a while. The other two, though, I was forced to lie over, lest I bring on the kind of attention I didn't want.

But that was two days ago. Today, with rare exception, it was just the usual monotony of work. Code, email, lunch, meeting, code some more.

It was late in the day when Drew, my boss, stopped by my cubicle. "Hey, Ash, they got the specs finalized on the next patch release." He handed me a thin sheaf of memos. I'd also get a copy in email, but Drew liked to hand out hard copy.

"Cool," I said. "Anything I should worry about?"

Drew didn't answer. He was too busy peering intently at my face. "You feeling okay, Ash?" he said at last.

"I feel fine. Why?"

He gestured at me, half point, half wave. "The skin on the bridge of your nose is turning black."

"It's what?" I reached to feel my face. A vertical strip of insensitive skin, bumpy but slick and perhaps two inches wide, ran from under my cap halfway down my nose.

"Turning black." Drew had backed up a step while I wasn't paying attention, probably to avoid getting infected with what was obviously some horrible skin disease. "You might want to get that checked out. In fact, I really think you should go to the doctor."

"Yeah... yeah."

I didn't leave immediately, though. I went to the bathroom, first. I knew already what I'd see, but I had to look, anyway.

Despite being made for multiple occupants, then men's room door still had a deadbolt lock on it. I used it. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, took off my cap, and looked into the mirror. The sight was not unexpected, but a jolt nevertheless. My forehead was a mass of scales forming the branches of a dark ''T.'' Its trunk went down my nose, the edges just kissing the corners of my eyes.

"Jesus." My face had definitely not been like that this morning. I felt the horns on my forehead... and then the second pair set further back, more on the top of my head and angled backwards. I'd discovered those yesterday. Were they larger now? It was hard to see them in the mirror, but my fingers told me they probably were.

Yesterday...

I'd found the second set of horns while shampooing my hair. A sudden shock, a scramble for the mirror. But they truly were hard to see. I had convinced myself that I had just never noticed them before. They'd always been there — since Xanadu, anyway. I mean, a second set of horns growing spontaneously from my skull... ludicrous! It made no sense, so obviously I must have just missed them.

And the idea that these painted-on scales were growing, expanding... just my imagination. Of course. It wasn't like I was keeping rigorous track, or anything! How was I supposed to tell whether the last scale before skin was this one or that one? And if the scales were now to the point where they wrapped around my wrist and crawled halfway down my fingers... well, obviously I'm misremembering their extent. Right? Just bring out the skin-colored makeup, slather it on, and ignore it. It's the same as it was yesterday, sure it is.

But it was hard to brush this off. This time the patch on my forehead was definitely, unarguably larger. I was quite certain that my cap had completely covered it this morning. As a matter of fact... I replaced it on my head and tugged it down as far as it would go. My suspicions were, unfortunately, confirmed. It didn't go down as far as it should have. As it once had. It was being held away from my scalp by that second pair of horns. Which in turn meant not only that they were clearly growing, but quite likely were indeed a new addition rather than being an original — if unnoticed — part of the change back in Florida.

I was out of the building not three minutes later.

One of the side benefits of leaving work a little early was that I missed the worst of rush hour. Which isn't to say the traffic was actually ''good.'' This was, after all, San Jose. Every traffic light, every highway slowdown tensed my muscles and strained my nerves.

"This can't be happening to me," I said over and over as I drove. "It just can't!" It was impossible. It was insane. It was infuriating! I ground my teeth over the situation and blasted my horn.

Naturally, I did not go to the doctor. This was no skin disease. There was nothing any doctor could do for me. Only one person could.

I should have known that Jesse wouldn't be home so early. Despite his more obvious changes (well, perhaps not ''more'' obvious, anymore, I amended), he had gone right back to work. He said it was no problem. I often wondered if it was a case of openminded coworkers or if he was using magic somehow. Or if he was just being optimistic. Whichever it was, it seemed to be working out so far, which meant he wouldn't be back for another hour, minimum. I gave him a ring on my cell phone and told him to get home soon. Real soon. Then I went and had dinner.

It was a very uneasy meal. I could feel every other person's eyes on me, on the discolored patch of skin, on my hat as they wondered exactly what it hid. Even then I knew it was an exaggeration, but I still felt it. And the looks the kid behind the counter gave me as he took my order were certainly real enough.

I didn't want to stay long. On the other hand, I didn't relish the idea of some neighbor calling the cops on me if I hung out in his front yard while I waited. It was a kind of balancing act, and for once I hit it perfectly. I pulled into his driveway right after he did.

"Hi, Ash!" he called as we got out of our cars. "What's up?"

"That's exactly what I want to know!" I yelled. I whipped off the baseball cap and pointed at my brow. "What the ''hell'' is up with this?"

His weatherbeaten face creased in a frown. "Let's go inside."

Once we were in his place, I got right back to it. "Look at this! I'm still growing scales! What the hell is happening, here?"

"I was afraid this might happen..." Jesse began, but then halted.

"Afraid of what, damn it?"

"Surely you knew. That you would continue to turn into a dragoness. Into Kyr."

I did know. It hit me like a punch in the belly, anyway. Gamely, I rallied with, "But I can't be! My costume wasn't of Kyr! I only made myself into a partial dragon, not a full one!"

"Wrong. You went as Kyr at the start of his transformation. Only a partial dragon, yes, but a part that was meant to increase."

I swore vehemently. "Why didn't you ''tell'' me this might happen?"

Jesse shrugged and got a Coke from the fridge. "You were having a hard enough time coping with the changes you had. You would have gotten yourself all worked up if I'd told you there might be more coming. In short, you didn't want to hear it."

"Yeah, but—"

"''And'' since I didn't know for sure that they ''were'' coming, there was no point in letting you panic just then."

"I am not panicking!"

Jesse just shrugged again and took a long pull from the can. "If you say so."

"Damn it! I'm not!"

"Then you're throwing a tantrum. But whether it's panic or shit fit, you would have done then what you're doing now. I didn't need that, then." He paused to give me a hard look. "I don't need it now, either."

A ''tantrum?'' "Fuck you! This is important! You're not fucking taking this seriously! And until you do, I am out of here!" I saw myself out, making sure to slam the door behind me.

Luckily, it was Friday, so I had another two days to figure out what I'd do about this. The problem was that there was absolutely nothing I ''could'' do. Kyr had some magic, true, but much of it was inherent to being a dragon, like her her ability to fly or to breathe fire. I couldn't use those, yet. The rest of her magic came from being a wizard's familiar; even if that was available to me now, I didn't know ''how'' to use it.

And neither type of magic would be able to prevent this slow change, anyway. I knew. I'd had Kyr try, way back when she was just my imagination and a sheet full of stats.

Naturally I wasn't about to leave the house like that. Which meant my weekend was spent watching television, interrupted by frequent trips to the bathroom mirror as I inspected myself for changes.

And changes there were! They seemed to come more quickly, now that they had an audience. Over those few days I watched my scalp grow black, my hair vanishing in lieu of bony knobs and bumps covered in scales. They crept down my face, as well, so that by Sunday night everything above my upper lip was covered. My ears had become merely fleshy, scale-covered hollows in my skull. My pupils were slitted, now, and the irises that filled the rest of the eye was a green so deep I thought at times they glowed.

My fingernails had grown long despite every effort I made to keep them short. Sharp talons now tipped every finger. My hands were entirely covered with scales, larger on my palm than the back, and they extended a few inches past each wrist as well. Black peeked out from beneath the edge of my watchband.

And Saturday afternoon I found the first of the scales on my feet. It seemed that this transformation was to proceed from my extremities inwards.

Friday and Saturday, each clear sign of change brought on another round of curses. Some of them prompted thrown objects. But tempers cannot remain forever hot. At some point Sunday I calmed down somewhat. I was still more than a little upset, but there was little point in getting violent over it.

Besides, it was time to do something about work. I picked up the phone and dialed — with excessive care, thanks to these damned talons.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jesse. Uh..." What to say? "Sorry I blew up like that. I guess you were right, I was panicking. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"It's okay. You were upset, and with good reason."

"Mind if I come over there? I need to see you."

"No problem," was the reply.

Jesse took one look at my face when he opened his door, then stood aside. "Come on in."

I waited until we had taken seats in his living room before speaking. "Getting into the role, I see."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't blink, or step back, or show any signs at all of surprise at how far this had gone."

"Ah." His smile was slight but genuine. "A wizard is supposed to be nigh-imperturbable, after all."

I nodded. "Right. Well, I hope you've practiced other facets of being a wizard. Like spellcasting."

"That I have. Small spells, mostly, but a few of higher order."

"Good. I want to reverse this spell. Change me back."

Jesse nodded slowly; evidently he'd anticipated the request. Then he looked at me gravely and said, "People have been trying to nullify Xanadu's spell for a week, now. If anyone's had any success, they're keeping quiet about it. Frankly, I doubt any wizard created ''by'' Xanadu — and that's every wizard, remember — will be able to cancel the spell ''of'' Xanadu."

"I'm not so sure I agree with that. Magic by definition breaks all the rules of logic. Who can say it won't do that here?"

"I'm a wizard, so I can."

I threw up my hands. "All right, whatever. That wasn't what I had in mind, anyway. All you need to do is negate ''your'' spell."

Jesse's bushy gray eyebrows rose for the first time. "''My'' spell? You mean the one cast in the game?"

"Essence Transference, yeah. You never actually cast it, I know, but thanks to my costume concept Xanadu thinks you have. So if you just negate that spell, I should change back."

"It won't work."

"I don't see why not. I've thought this through pretty carefully."

"Yes, but with incorrect data. Or rather, incomplete. At any rate, remember GIGO. It's a good idea, but it just won't work."

"And just what do you know that I do not?" I said with a snarl I could not quite suppress. Was this anger normal or was it part of being a dragon?

Jesse thankfully ignored the tone and concentrated on my actual words. "The change at Kubla Con made me a wizard. And that includes certain knowledge that I suddenly just know." He hastily held up a hand to forestall an angry reply. "Didn't do much for teleporting, I know. I think I was relying too much on it, to soon. But I still know things. And my grimoire is not a cookbook, either. There's more in there than lists of ingredients and instructions on combining them. There's notes on how each spell works. Not only what it does, but how. And after you left here Friday I looked up the Essence Transference spell."

He paused. "And?" I asked into the silence.

"Think of a heart transplant. Once it's done, it's done; you can't stop it from taking place when the patient is walking out of the hospital. The operation's over. Canceling it then can't be done.

"It's the same thing, here. This isn't some kind of ultra-slow polymorph spell. It's a soul transplant, essentially. But in the game — and now in real life, I suppose — you now have the soul of a female black dragon familiar."

''That'' was certainly news! I'd never thought about it that way. Still, "What about all this, then?" I asked, and waved my talons in the air.

"Heart transplants leave scars, which heal but slowly. Think of this as the scar healing. Your body is healing, as it were. But because your essence is that of a black dragoness, that's how you will heal. As a black dragoness."

Interesting. Hardly good, no... but interesting. Still, if that's how it works, then a solution is obvious. "So just cast it on me again. Give me the essence, the soul, of a male human."

"Can't. The notes say it can only be cast on any specific creature once."

"Damn it! That's stupid! Why the heck would there be such an idiotic limit on the spell?"

"Please don't ruin my furniture." Jesse pointed, and I glanced down. My hand had clenched, forcing my talons through the upholstery. I sheepishly extracted them as he continued. "There are two things you need to remember about this spell. First, this spell is not part of the official game spellbook. The GM made it up for the campaign to introduce you to an established high-level game. So if it's a little odd, it's probably because it wasn't completely thought out.

"Secondly, it was made for a game, as were all the spells in my grimoire. And being able to change someone, body and soul, into another creature is pretty powerful! In fact, it's listed as a fifteenth-order spell; Gray technically should not have had any hope of a successful casting in the game, but Keith hadn't said how high it was. Probably Xanadu determined it, somehow. Anyway, making it permanent like this adds a little more power, but is a major limitation because that will be the character's base form for the rest of the game. If it turns out to be a bad choice of target form, tough. The target is stuck."

"So you're saying ''I'm'' stuck?"

"I think so." He surprised me with a grin. "Could have been worse. I could have had a kobold familiar."

"Somehow, I don't feel appreciative." I had to think about this. After a time, Jesse left; there was a clanging from the kitchen, the gurgle of a coffee machine. When he returned I accepted a cup, took a sip, and spoke.

"You do your research into curing this thing. I just can't believe there is a spell that can't be reversed in any way! Meanwhile, cast a polymorph or that disguise spell on me so I can keep going to work."

"The disguise spell wears off after nine hours," Jesse warned. "The polymorph might last four. Maybe."

"So I stop by every morning so you can disguise me again."

"All right," he agreed. "But the other thing you have to keep in mind is that this is ''only'' an illusion. It may hide a tail and wings, when they start coming in, but that won't prevent them from banging into desks, or people from tripping over them. There's also the fact that it conforms to your body, which means you'll look like you're crawling on the carpet once you go quadrupedal. To say nothing of the increased size."

I frowned at that. I'd rather suspected the part about the wings and tail, but I had tried hard not to think at all about the rest. Walking on all fours... I shuddered to think of it, quite literally.

My friend's tone was serious as he continued, "In all honesty, Ash, you should just put in two week's notice with your job. I already did."

"Hmm. Maybe. Mention my name at your work, though. That way, if you stop this transformation, I'll have a foot in the door for your position."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to stop it."

"Don't say that! Damn it, you ''have'' to!" I leaned forward, eyes intent. "You have to!"

I returned the next morning so Jesse could disguise me as myself. Drew was clearly relieved when I showed up unblemished. The day itself went well, other than my computer crashing twice. Drew let me leave early, somewhat to my surprise; he's usually a stickler for the nine-to-five shtick. I used the time to get some food, and apparently I needed it since the spell gave way seconds after I closed the door to my place.

Tuesday, however, went significantly less well. The first time I sat down I got a painful surprise. It felt like I was sitting on a good-sized rock. And when I sat back, I discovered two more rocks behind my shoulders.

Had those appeared last week I would surely have rationalized them away as hives or unusually large blisters. But now, especially after Jesse's comments on Sunday, I knew immediately what they were. My wings and tail were starting to come in.

Every trip to Jesse's these days was urgent. This one was an emergency. I don't think I dropped below the speed limit once before I pulled into his driveway.

"You've got to do something!" I urged him. "Hasn't there been any progress?"

"Not really," he said, shaking his head. "I have an idea, but I need to look something up. I plan to go to the game shop later today and get a sourcebook."

"Good. Good. Here." I yanked my wallet out of my pocket and shoved a hundred at him.

"Um. I don't really need..."

"So you can buy the book! I don't need any more limbs, man."

He hesitated a moment more before taking the bill. "All right."

The drive to work was not comfortable. Neither was my cubicle's chair, even as padded as it was. No matter how I shifted around, my new appendages found a new way to ache. More than anything else, that solidified my decision. I gave Drew my two weeks notice that afternoon. He tried to get me to stay, but not very hard. I think he was beginning to suspect I hadn't quite escaped the convention unscathed.

The only problem came when it became apparent that I might not actually have two weeks. The slow crawling progression of scales continued unabated. It was worrisome enough on my arms and legs, but by Wednesday my head was a knobby, horny, scale-covered mass. I looked more like the Creature from the Black Lagoon than anything else, for a day or two.

Then bones started changing. Thursday my feet began to change, the proportions of the bones below the knee evening out. By Friday I was walking on the balls of my feet, which certainly earned me some odd looks from the people at work. But I had little choice; trying to walk or even stand flatfooted was awkward, even painful. Near the end of the day I was getting used to it, but I still tried one last time not to stand on tippytoes. I overbalanced badly and fell on my ass — a severely unpleasant experience, since the tail had not stopped growing.

Meanwhile, I no longer wore the baseball cap. It no longer even reached my head, hanging off my horns when I tried like they were a hat rack. And the same day I was forced off my heels I noticed that chewing my food felt strange. By dinnertime it was obvious that Kyr's muzzle was forming. It was small, more reminiscent of that of a cat or monkey than a dragon, but it would grow. Of that I had no doubts whatsoever.

And, of course, it did. It was very irritating, and not just because it was yet another sign of my humanity slipping through my fingers. As it grew out, speaking became more and more difficult. A muzzle is not properly designed for speech. (Human speech, anyway; Jesse theorized that I would be perfectly understandable in draconic tongues, were I to find someone who spoke any.) I could talk well enough if I did it very deliberately, but when I was preoccupied I sounded like a drunk. A drunk alligator, sometimes, all hissing.

The only good side of this was that the scale growth was retarded. At least on my head; everywhere else it went on as before. But it was as if only so many could be added and they had decided to push out rather than down. The front, as I was calling it, ended barely below my jaw and stayed there while my skull reshaped itself.

It was not to last. At the start of the work week, as my mouth underwent its last changes — my tongue altering, my teeth becoming longer and ''much'' sharper — the scales once more resumed their downward crawl. And a new problem developed.

Monday morning was normal enough. I woke up, inventoried in my head the latest changes, had breakfast, and headed over to Jesse's. As usual he had no real progress towards a cure, so he just disguised me and sent me on my way.

The first hour or two at work was fine, too, or at least as fine as it got these days. Midway through the morning I noticed my voice had acquired a harsh rasp. Clearing my throat helped only briefly. Indeed, "momentarily" is a more accurate word, for within a few minutes it was back. Coughing or drinking water gave the same results.

The rasp increased throughout the day. It sounded like I had an extremely sore throat, although in truth none of the changes ever actually hurt and this was no exception. Still, the new quality to my voice combined with my altered mouth to make it very hard for me to make myself understood. And it seemed to be getting worse. With some difficulty, I managed to pass it off to my coworkers as laryngitis. Or at least nobody argued with the claim, though I did get some funny looks.

There was no point in speeding over to Jesse's. A few minutes more or less would make no difference, I knew. So it was with a surprising calm that I told him, "My voice is starting to go."

"Yes, I see that." He chuckled for a moment. "Hear that, anyway."

"I don't think it's all that funny," I growled. I could growl quite impressively, now. It was very satisfying to see the wizard back up a pace.

"Sorry. Actually, I've been kind of wondering if this would happen. Keith played a little fast and loose about that."

I grunted agreeably. No race allowed in the game's rulebooks to be summoned as a familiar could talk. The GM had gotten around that by declaring that the "mental rapport" the books said wizards had with their familiars amounted to telepathy. This kept me, as a player, from having to tape my mouth shut to make sure I didn't comment on anything; everyone just pretended the words were relayed through Gray. Technically, though, Kyr had been rendered mute. Only Gray could hear him.

"Don't want to lose my voice," I rasped.

"I understand. Trust me, I understand." Jesse went to his refrigerator and pulled out a mayonnaise jar. Its contents more closely resembled deli-style mustard than mayo, however, with specks of something suspended in the glop. But even mustard wasn't green. It looked spectacularly unhealthy to touch, much less eat.

"I don't know what to do about your voice," Jesse said. "I guess I'll look into that next—"

"Please."

"—but this may help slow down the spread of your scales. Maybe even reverse it, though I'm not as confident on that one. Just spread it on the leading edge of them, like a skin cream. Yeah, like that."

The stuff was viscous and smelled nasty, but I applied it to my neck without hesitation. "How long'll it take?"

"Results? A day, maybe two. If there's no change by Wednesday night, then it's safe to say it didn't work."

"Okay." I cleared my throat uselessly. "In the meantime, work on saving my voice. Please! It's kind of important to me."

"I'll do what I can."

Unfortunately, that turned out not to be very much. My voice continued to deteriorate until, long before the week ended, I was unintelligible to everyone except Jesse. Almost surely it was due to that "rapport" he had with me. But I had to avoid conversations as much as I could and scrawl my thoughts out on a notepad when I could not. It wasn't easy, thanks to my claws, and it didn't help at all that my hands were beginning to change. They were getting ready to become forefeet.

Drew pretended not to notice, or mind. But he let me go early, well before my two weeks were up. I don't blame him; those last few days I barely got anything done.

Jesse's skin ointment — whatever it was made of, and it definitely wasn't mayo or mustard with extra coloring and stuff added in — wasn't working, either. My skin continued to turn dark and scaly. They crawled over my shoulders and began to merge with those coming down my neck. They were reaching for my hips and groin, and it wasn't hard to realize that when they were covered I would no longer be bipedal, or male. I spent a lot of time trying to decide which I dreaded more.

My "extra limbs" were still growing, too. The wings only spread out about two feet to each side, but other than size they looked complete. The tail was thick and muscular, and getting quite long; if I crouched a little I could feel the tip brushing against the floor. I had little control over anything, though. Whenever I tried to move them they just flailed about. But they forced me to give up wearing any clothing on Wednesday, four days after Jesse had advised me to rely on the disguise spell for my modesty. It was yet another reminder that I was no longer human.

Even the most idiotic driver couldn't fail to notice me now, and even if I dared it my tail prevented me from sitting in the driver's seat. So I was stuck in my apartment with nothing to do but be a couch potato and watch myself change.

On Sunday I awoke and quickly discovered a crick in my back. There was no way I could stand up straight. A quick check showed that the scales were over my hips. My groin was... strange. The scales had not transformed the skin there, but rather formed themselves into a tent of sorts. There was a bulge there rather like that of too-tight pants, but by the end of the day even that had been smoothed out. All my plumbing was suddenly internal, which made going to the bathroom something of an adventure.

I didn't get very upset at the changes, anymore. Not even that one. I simply sighed and added another checkmark to the mental list. It was all terribly depressing.

''You've been moping about the place for a week, now. Stop it.''

But it wasn't like I had anything else to do. No job, and everyone else would run if they saw me.

''Oh, I'm not so sure about that. In the right setting...''

But I was sure. Then I blinked. Who the hell was speaking, anyway? There was nobody here but me.

''I'm Jesse, of course. Remember the rapport?''

I did, even if it sounded like the title to a bad poem. "If this means I'm going to have you in my head forever, then I think I'm going to have to find someone to shoot me," I said. Or tried to say.

The words managed to get through. ''Don't be so hasty. You're not reading ''my'' mind, are you? The reverse is true as well, I assure you.'' There was a pause, and I got the impression he was frowning. ''I haven't heard from you in a while. You okay, man?''

"Not really," I growled out loud. For now I wasn't going to try just thinking at him. "For one thing, calling me 'man' is no longer appropriate. In either sense."

Another pause. ''Oh.''

"Yeah."

''Maybe I should come over.''

"Please don't. This is bad enough as it is, without a visitor."

''I'm not a visitor, I'm a friend — or so I hope. Besides, I bet you're hungry.''

Calling it hunger was an understatement by several orders of magnitude. I was, in fact, down to eating pancake mix. "All right."

Jesse didn't take very long, but thoughts of real food made it seem like forever. I spent the time learning how to think-talk to him. I also learned how to think in a manner that he would not overhear, which to say the least was a great relief.

This was the first time since Xanadu that Jesse had come to me instead of the other way around. He stepped inside quickly, laden with groceries, and looked at me appraisingly as I nudged the door shut with my tail. "Geez, man... er, girl. You should have named yourself Bertha, not Kyr!"

I was a little surprised, myself. I hadn't realized I had grown so much. But despite walking on all fours, my head was barely below his. Looking straight at him gave me an excellent view of his beard. ''Never mind that,'' I thought at him, ''where's the food?''

Jesse laughed and began taking it out of the bags. My mouth was suddenly filled with saliva as I saw what he'd brought: meat. Pounds and pounds of meat. "I wasn't sure how much you'd need," he said, grinning.

It turned out he had brought far more than I could eat. I hadn't grown all ''that'' much, yet. I was able to gorge myself before flopping onto the couch.

''Thanks,'' I told him, and meant it.

"No problem," he said. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But while I really was worried about your food supplies, giving you a jumbo-sized meal wasn't the whole reason I wanted to see you."

I eyed him suspiciously. ''Oh?''

"Have you thought about what you're going to do in the future? How you're going to live?"

I shrugged. ''A little. Not much, though. I didn't have to. Not many ways for a dragon to live. Unless you know some farms' herds I could raid?''

"Probably some up north, or east. But I think I've managed to come up with something a little more civilized. The first step, though, is that you should move in with me."

''And why would I ever do that?''

"You said it yourself: you are trapped indoors. It's difficult at best for you to go out even to get food. Paying bills like cable and rent will be a problem when you can't go out to the ATM or write a check. If you live with me, I'll take care of that. Besides," he said, and grinned again, "You ''are'' my familiar. Having you around can be a big help to me."

It made an annoying amount of sense. Still, I resisted. ''And what do you get out of this?'' I asked grumpily.

"Like I said, I get the benefit of having my familiar alongside me where she should be, rather than twenty miles away. And I'm hoping you'll be my partner in my new business venture. I could really use you there."

I looked at him intently. ''Business venture? What business venture?''

It wasn't complicated, but it was unique. At least, I'd never heard of anyone trying to do it. And it might even work, too. At the end of Jesse's spiel, there was really only one thing I could say.

''You want me to do ''what,'' exactly?''

{{Separator|stars}}

The excited jabbering of children was audible all the way in the back yard where my "lair" had been set up. I could, just barely, make out doors slamming shut from two — no, three — cars.

''They're late,'' I thought-spoke to Jesse — or Gray, as he now preferred to be called in public.

''Lighten up. Ten minutes is not that bad,'' he thought back. ''You're just nervous because this is your first birthday party. Hold on.''

''To what?'' I asked. I added a mental grin that I knew he would receive; this rapport thing was pretty versatile. I got a kind of mental chuckle in return.

I waited for most of a minute before Gray spoke again. ''Nine kids, three adults,'' he reported.

''Big group,'' I said.

''I guess somebody has wealthy parents.''

Very true. We were offering rides on dragonback, after all, not planes or even helicopters. People pay fifty dollars or more to bungee jump, and that can be done almost anywhere. But people would have to search long and very hard before they'd find another dragon to ride. We offered a service that was utterly unique, and we expected our prices to only go up.

Not that we were presently cheap. A fifteen-minute jaunt was forty bucks, thirty for kids. Longer trips cost more, up to a few hundred per person for an hours-long tour of San Francisco Bay. I doubted these people would be doing that; I couldn't carry that many people at once on my back. But even at the cheapest, these people would be giving us nearly three hundred dollars just for the rides. Add in the tee shirts and other stuff they might buy... not bad for an afternoon's flying.

''Ash? I'll be out in just a minute. Wrapping up the safety lecture now. You about ready out there?''

''Sure.'' There wasn't much for me to do, frankly, other than look as competent and as harmless as a dragon can look. The only thing I did was stand up. We'd found it's better they see my entire length straight out than for me to try the impossible feat of seeming small.

And then they were out the door. The crowd of boys (and two girls, I saw) shrieked happily when they saw me there. The adults, two women and a man, looked anxious.

"You're sure she's safe?" one of the women asked.

"Positive," Gray said, oozing confidence. "She doesn't want anything to happen to them any more than we do. She's sentient. Say hello, Kyr."

''It's Ash, damn it.'' But I raised one foreleg and waved a greeting. The woman still looked doubtful, but she didn't protest again.

The kids were looking up at me with wide eyes. That was nothing new; after my week-long growth spurt, Gray had measured me at thirty-four feet from the tip of my tail to the front of my muzzle. It was about the length of two parked cars, enough to impress anybody. One boy, bolder than the rest, dared to touch the scales on one leg. When I didn't immediately eat him the rest joined in, rubbing, poking, and pinching all over. That wasn't unusual, either, and once again I was glad that my scales were less sensitive than skin.

"All right, girl. Time to saddle up."

It had taken some doing to persuade someone to make a saddle for me. It had also taken some doing to make me wear the thing. But Gray had persisted, and I had to admit there was no way it'd be safe to let them fly bareback. And we couldn't afford to get sued. We'd been open for business for a month now, and the government was still trying to decide whether to try shutting us down. One easily prevented accident would have disastrous consequences for us, and for the "Magic Rights" movement that had sprouted in the two months since Xanadu.

Kids seemed to love watching me get saddled. It soothed the nerves of people who were a bit leery of thirty-four foot flying reptiles, too, when they saw me placidly submit to the ordeal.

I shifted and stretched to get the straps just so as Gray straightened. "Now, who's first?" he shouted over the noise. Nine hands lifted simultaneously. "She can only carry two at a time, I'm afraid. There were some disappointed groans.

''I'll take the birthday boy first, alone,'' I said. ''They'll consider that fair.''

"I just thought of the solution. The birthday boy can go first! Then the rest of you can pair up."

''You shameless idea thief.'' But I was smiling.

I crouched, and the young boy was lifted and securely buckled in. Gray tugged here and there on the straps as a final check. Then I spread my wings, beat them twice, and launched.

It had taken a while to get the hang of flying, and more for the landings. But it was getting more comfortable by the day. All the practice this venture was giving me had certainly helped. The only thing left was to move the business out of the house. The neighbors were very nervous about me.

But that was for Gray to worry about. Indeed, I was beginning to think he got the bad end of this deal. The magical consulting and spellcasting side to the venture that would have been his bailiwick was getting only a bunch of people who wanted their palms read. And for this side of the partnership, it was he who has to worry about administration, paperwork, safety, and the government. I just had to fly. And not eat anyone, of course.

As a whole, though, the business was clearly a success in the works. We already had at least a few people every day coming in for a ride. I could easily believe we'd have a full schedule by Valentine's Day, maybe even start hiring some help.

It was hardly a life I had ever anticipated living. It certainly wasn't one I would have chosen. But it wasn't bad, not bad at all. I could get to like this. Especially the flying.

I tucked my wings in and dove. Behind me, the boy screamed in joyful terror. He was loving it.

I smiled mentally. ''I'm with you, kid.''

<comments />

{{author endnote|This story was actually a commission. Somebody read my other Xanadu story, [[Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest]], and liked the setting and my writing well enough to pay me to write his character into the setting. The request was for a slow transformation into a female dragon, and he wanted the character to go through as many of the stages of acceptance — anger, denial, bargaining, and so forth — as I could manage to get in there. Xanadu doesn't exactly lend itself to slow changes, so it took some thought before we came up with this little plot device. I also had extensive discussions on what Kyr could do, the relationship between her and her master, and what they might do with their lives. I didn't want this to just be one long description of a transformation, after all. I did want this to be a story. <p>

Overall, I think I succeeded. I like this one, and not just because I made a profit of sorts on it. Ash slowly becoming Kyr, little by little, over the course of a month or so, was fun to write. I personally think I overdid Ash's emotions a bit, though.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Mythical]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Refamiliarization}}

Refamiliarization

2007-09-18T08:25:11Z

Xodiac: added author's comments

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

For the hundredth time that day I looked enviously around me at the multitudes of costumes wandering Kubla Con. Aliens and animals mixed with humans in uniforms out of popular science fiction shows and movies, and some of them were superb. But saving for cross-country airfare had eaten most of the funds I might have spent on a more complete outfit for myself.

At least I wasn't alone in my... uncostumedness, if that was even a word. I'd seen plenty of other people walking around without costumes, and even more had bought animal noses in order to get in the spirit of things, even minimally. I rubbed the equally minimalist horns glued to my forehead absently for a moment before snatching my hand away. So the sparsity of my outfit didn't stand out all that much.

That would change soon, at least a little. One of the dealers was selling sets of wings; mostly feathery white angel wings, but there were some black sets there as well, and a single pair of black batlike wings. With the convention ending tomorrow, I could afford to splurge a little on them, and even at a mere three feet across they were perfect.

When Jesse and I had heard that costuming was going to be a major part of this year's con, rather than the usual sideline, we'd decided to actually wear something, even if it was minor. After some thinking, we decided to walk around as the characters we played every Tuesday and Thursday in our gaming sessions. Jesse's was easy: a gray wig, a staff, some robes, and a leatherbound book were all that was needed to make him into a passable wizard.

Coming as my character was a bit more problematical, because Kyr was a dragon. I had entered only recently into a campaign that had been underway for almost three years, so I'd had to find some way for my new character to join up with the party. I did it by getting caught burglarizing the party mage's tower. Gray the wizard, Jesse's character, had been justifiably upset that Kyr had managed to kill his old dragon familiar, and so the thief took up the role instead. My character made for a somewhat underpowered dragon, but Kyr's power levels were just about right to fit in with the rest of the party of seasoned, experienced adventurers.

But there had been no way I could afford the several hundred — or several thousand — dollars I'd have needed to buy a full dragon suit. So I'd made do with a set of rubber horns and some painted-on scales in a few places, and simply pretended I was Kyr before Gray's "essence transference" spell, which had given Kyr the familiar's form and powers, had taken more than token effect.

Finally, ''finally,'' the fat woman in front of me gave up on knocking the price of her purchases down another twenty bucks and just paid up. The guy on the other side of the table smiled apologetically as he turned to me. "Sorry about that. So, after a set of wings, eh? Part of your costume?"

"They will be, yeah." I set my credit card down with a plastic snap. He snatched it up and began processing it.

"You a demon?"

I grimaced. "Naw." I hated being mistaken for a demon, even if it was a fair guess. "Dragon. Well, part dragon."

"Gonna be a bit more dragon in a minute. Ah! There we go. Sign here?"

It was impossible to stop my mouth from spreading to a wide grin as I turned away, wings in hand. I couldn't wait to try them on.

Without warning a child a few feet ahead of me squealed and doubled over. The gray plastic mouse nose that had overlain his own seemed to ripple, and gray fur spread rapidly back from it even as he shrank. In the space of a second or two he vanished from sight, engulfed in clothing.

"Jimmy?" his mother cried, looking at the pile openmouthed. "Jimmy!"

All around me were cries of surprise and fear. Here and there the sound was cut off, or transmuted into some other noise.

I looked around wildly. Had someone dropped LSD into all the water pitchers? Right in front of me people were changing, turning into elves and robots and animals; some of the latter seemed to stop partway through. Those people who were unaffected, like myself, were staring at them in shock.

What finally convinced me it was real, that people were really changing into their costumes, was that even some of those who ''had'' changed were looking around with stunned expressions. They were looking down at their own hands and bodies, too — and none of the people who hadn't been affected were looking at themselves. The idea that a hallucination could possibly be this... consistent was absurd.

"Holy shit!" I said. My voice was soft, but it was very, very heartfelt.

I could hear shouts and screams in the hallway outside as people began to panic. There were other sounds, too: gunshots and high-pitched whines that immediately made me think of lasers, along with bellows of anger or pain. It must be all the people at the awards ceremony, I realized. A sinking feeling grew in my stomach as I thought of all the people in costume that must have been crammed into that one room, and I thanked God Jesse and I hadn't gone. We'd been interested enough in ''seeing'' the costumes, and had thus attended the masquerade yesterday, but it mattered little to us who won. And by the sound of the chaos outside the dealer's room, it was a good thing, too.

Not that there was no chaos and panic in here. Several people (and other things) had already bolted for the exits. But the dealer's room had been largely empty, thanks to the awards ceremony, and it seemed to have affected the response. By and large people reacted like they might to a fire drill after actually smelling smoke. Urgently, but not hysterically.

Still, it would be a good idea to get out of there. At the very least I wanted to find Jesse. Last I'd seen, he was heading over to the game room to get in a few last sessions. It wasn't all that far away, but to get there I'd have to get through the mess in the halls.

It turned out to be a surprisingly simple task. It was more a mob than a riot, really; people were panicked but not actually violent. The greater difficulties were simply to avoid getting in anyone's way, which might ''make'' them belligerent, and keeping myself from tripping and getting trampled. Beyond that all I needed to do was to peel away into the corridor leading to some of the other rooms of interest, including the game room, rather than let myself be swept to the exit along with most everyone else.

A dozen or so people were at the game room talking animatedly about what had just happened, but it still felt like an island of calm amidst the chaos. It probably helped that few people who were interested in gaming had worn costumes in the first place, though there were exceptions. Jesse, of course, was one of them, and I found him easily at one table, surrounded by other gamers.

"Ash!" he shouted in greeting as I entered. He stood and abandoned the conversation to greet me, somewhat to the annoyance of the others, I saw. "Jeez, man, it's good to see you. I was worried."

He took a seat at an empty table. "Yeah," I said as I took a chair opposite him. "It's kinda crazy out there. Looks like you guys are fine, though." While it was noisier than usual even for the game room, it was clear that nobody had really lost it when the change hit. Nothing was smashed or even overturned.

"Well, we're not going nuts, it that's what you mean," Jesse said, confirming my earlier thoughts, and a few nearby heads nodded agreeably. "I wouldn't really call this ''fine,'' though!"

At that he gestured sharply at his face. For a few seconds I saw nothing wrong with it. It was simply the weatherbeaten, slightly past prime face of the wizard Gray. Then it hit me, and I reeled back as if struck. This was the ''face'' of Gray, not Jesse made up as him. The are lines were no longer makeup, the locks of white hair had not been bleached.

"Jeez, you're really him, aren't you?" I asked softly. "You turned into Gray."

"Yeah. Dammit, I look like I'm fucking fifty!"

"Isn't Gray more like a hundred fifty?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, around there. Hundred forty-one, I think. But I look fifty. I ''feel'' fifty! How am I supposed to get a date, now?"

Now it was my turn to shrug. "Older guys get married too. My uncle met his wife when he was forty-six." I smiled encouragingly. "Besides, there's probably a lot of prestige in dating a wizard! As useful as engineers and rarer than rock stars."

Jesse looked at me like I was an idiot. "Don't be a dick." It was odd to hear those words coming from that face. Incongruous. "It's not like I'm really a wizard. I can't ''actually'' cast any spells. Hell, magic doesn't exist."

"Oh, really. Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

He snorted, then nodded, acknowledging the point. "And have you?"

I shook my head no. "I didn't change."

His eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, really," he said in his best imitation of my voice.

"Yes, really. If I had changed, I would be a dragon." I pointedly looked down at myself, arms spread wide. "Do you see a dragon sitting across from you?"

"Of course not. But what do you call these, hmm?" I looked up in time to see him leaning across the table, arm extended towards me. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing he flicked his forefinger at my scalp. But instead of striking flesh there was a distinct click, and I felt the vibration travel down into my skull. But it was hardly the same thing as tapping the skull itself.

"Holy shit!" I said again. My hands flew up to my forehead and felt the horns poking out of my skin there. It was immediately obvious they were made of bone now, not rubber. I gave one a few experimental tugs, but they were firmly attached. Indeed, I actually winced when I tried to twist it.

"You didn't know?"

"No! In all the mess I forgot about them." I looked at the miniature pair of wings on the table beside me. "I guess those are kind of moot now. Damn, they weren't cheap, either..."

Jesse laughed. "Maybe not! Maybe if you put them on you'll have a nice set of wings! Have you thought of that?"

I hadn't. I rolled the idea around for a moment before shaking my head. "No, thanks. I don't feel like being part of a freak show. Horns are enough for me. More than enough."

"You have scales, too, you know."

I looked. The patches of charcoal gray I had brushed onto the backs of each hand glistened, now; the lines separating one scale from another were deep fissures, rather than mere black paint. "Shit." The rest of my hand was unaffected; the scales faded back to skin exactly where I had stopped painting. I ran my fingers over one patch. It felt smooth, but just short of being slick. I could feel my fingers, too, but faintly. Dragon scales were supposed to be tougher than skin; apparently they were less sensitive, as well.

Jesse was looking at me with a peculiar expression on his now-wrinkled face. It took me a moment to realize he was expecting something, another to recognize exactly what. "That feels... weird. Kind of like being touched through clothes, but not. Just... weird."

It wasn't a really good description, but it was the best I could do. And it seemed to satisfy him, judging by his thoughtful nod. "You have some here, too," he said, touching his forehead. He waited for me to feel between my horns (two words that will take some getting used to!), but I believed him well enough to resist the temptation. Eventually he asked, "Anything else different?"

"On me?" He nodded, and I thought it over briefly. "No... I don't think so. That's all the costume I wore."

"Even... you know. There?"

"What?" But I knew what he meant even before I was finished with the single syllable. Kyr had been a man before he took op Gray's previous familiar's position and powers and form. But the old familiar had been a ''female'' dragon, and the gamemaster had decided that that aspect would be transferred over as well.

I hadn't really minded, at the time. It was only a character, after all. (Said character, of course, ''did'' mind, and he'd gained a few personality quirks and mannerisms thanks to it.) Still, that was just a game, and this was real.

But a hasty check revealed everything was still where it should be. "Nothing wrong there," I said. "Nothing changed but the parts I costumed, thank God."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Oh, heck yeah."

We both fell silent. I found myself rubbing a horn as I contemplated exactly what to do next.

{{Separator|stars}}

"This is intolerable! Idiots! Morons! What the hell do they think this will accomplish?"

"They think it'll keep us all in one place where they can keep an eye on us," I said, not bothering to look up from the television to where Jesse pointed. I knew quite well what I'd see out the window, after all, since it had been there for the last two days. Our hotel room had a wonderful view of the police mobile headquarters that had been set up nine stories down and across the street, where the cops were coordinating the quarantine they had set up. Nobody who had been affected at the con was supposed to get out (or in, though why anyone would return was beyond me). It was an open secret, though, that some were escaping anyway — there were shots on the news of a gargoyle or demon or something that was already flying around New York City, for one thing. Compared to all the various aliens, mages, and superheroes, not to mention all the things like that demon, things that could just fly over any cordon... well, the cops were simply out of their league.

There were persistent rumors that the National Guard, even the Army, were going to take over Any Time Now, but there was never any concrete information. There were also rumors that the quarantine would be lifted and everyone could go home. Almost nobody believed ''those'' stories, however. Surely the government wouldn't do something so obviously sensible.

"But it's stupid! Their cursed cordon leaks like a sieve!" Jesse ranted as he paced beside the bed.

"Yup."

"There's reports all over the place of things showing up. One was on Leno!"

"Yup."

"And our plane back was supposed to leave today. I don't suppose they'll let us catch our flight."

"Nope."

Jesse stopped stomping around the room long enough to glare at me. "And can you ''please'' give me something a little more than monosyllabic replies?"

"Sure." I paused just long enough for my friend to think that was all; making him go nuts was amusing enough to keep ''me'' from going stir crazy. When his mouth was open, ready to spew a heated rejoinder, I added, "When your statements deserve them." He shut his mouth with a snap; this was fun! "Besides, there's not a whole lot we can do about it."

Jesse smiled oddly at me. "That's what you think."

Then I did look squarely at him. I scratched the backs of my hands as I thought; the line between skin and scales itched nearly constantly. "What do you mean?" I eventually asked warily.

"I'm supposed to be a mage, right? I think it might be time to try one of the spells in my grimoire."

I sat up a little straighter, all itching forgotten. Now this was interesting! Every now and then Jesse had looked through the book that had become his repository of spells, muttering occasionally. Yet he hadn't cast a single one, hadn't even tried despite the growing evidence that people who'd been dressed as any kind of magic user had become able to cast spells. But if he was going to make an attempt at last... oh yes. Interesting, indeed.

"So which spell are you going to use?" I asked. "Something to disguise us as cops? Or, hey, do you have invisibility in there? You remember, the one that got us past that goblin horde last month?" I'd always wondered what it'd really be like to be invisible.

"No, no, no," Jesse said. He was flipping quickly through his spellbook. Suddenly he stopped and thrust it all me, all dramatic. "''This'' one."

I glanced at the page briefly before returning my gaze to him. "You know I can't read that crap." The blank pages that had filled the leatherbound book that Jesse had toted around as Gray's grimoire had been replaced by masses of runes and diagrams. I couldn't read a word of it. In fact, it made my eyes hurt to look at them for too long — which is to say, more than five seconds or so.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry." He had the grace to look embarrassed. But then his enthusiasm returned full bore. "It's Trakam's Teleportation!"

"Are you ''insane?''" I almost screamed. "There's a one-in-a-hundred chance of failure on that thing! And you want to cast ''that'' as your very first spell ever?"

"It won't be my first! I cast a few this morning while you were asleep."

"Really? Which spells?"

"Sangred's Silent Room and Ichanhor's Illusionary Disguise."

"Fine, you got some practice in. But if you screw up the Silent Room, all you get is a burst of noise, or a headache. Screw up on teleporting and it can get nasty."

"Well, yes," he admitted. "But just about ''anything'' above a fourth order spell can have some really bad consequences if the mage flubs it, so unless you think I'm incompetent and should keep to the tame stuff like light shows and lightening burdens, then we'll be taking that risk eventually."

He had a point, but I wasn't ready to admit that quite yet. "I just think you should practice some more. Build up to it."

"I've found, over the last few days, that I have some knowledge and instincts that I could only have gained from Gray. And he's a ninth order mage. So I'm pretty sure I can get this right."

"You're sure, huh?"

"Hey, I'm teleporting both of us, remember? It's my life, too. Sure, I'm sure."

I still had my doubts. He'd countered my most major objections, though; protesting further would only make me seem petty or cowardly. Worse, it'd just make him dig in his heels. "Let me pack first, will you?"

A few minutes later I dropped my bags at my feet, adjusted the baseball cap that hid my horns, and nodded to my friend. "Ready when you are."

Jesse had already packed. But he hadn't been idle. A circle six feet wide had been drawn on the carpet in pink chalk. A few lines crossed through the center in no pattern I recognized. "Stand in the circle, and try not to muss up the lines," he said.

"And the luggage?"

"You'll have to carry it."

I didn't realize, at first, that he meant I was to carry ''all'' the luggage. But he had to keep his arms free to make the gestures necessary to work the spell. Or so he said. So I had to hold four bags up off the carpet but within the circle's borders. I think I only managed because none was particularly large. Still, it wasn't easy. And it became even less easy when Jesse stepped in there with me.

"All right. Let's go."

I nodded. "Please, let's." None of the bags were heavy, but all four together was no small load. "By the way, where'd you get the chalk?"

"My pocket."

"But—"

"Shush."

I shushed.

Jesse’s voice began as a low murmur that I could barely hear and slowly grew. He spoke a language that I did not know and rather suspected didn't exist last week. His arms moved like a conductor's, flailing about in a way that suggested chaos at first glance but revealed patterns to those who continued to watch.

The room turned hazy, fading to gray nothingness. Even the carpet disappeared, though the chalk lines remained. It was just us and those lines, floating together in a sea of gray. We remained like that for what felt like several minutes, Jesse chanting all the while, before the familiar shapes of his living room began to fade in.

Then things started to go wrong.

The scene abruptly wavered like a television with bad reception and began to fade back into nothingness. At the same time, a bolt of nausea shot through my stomach and my legs felt like rubber, nearly making me stumble out of the circle. "Jesse..."

My friend's voice, already loud, became a shout and more insistent. Still things worsened. The grayness was darkening rapidly, and my hands and feet were beginning to tingle painfully. I could feel fire shooting up my limbs.

"Jesse!"

And just as suddenly, everything was fine. The nothingness vanished with a snap, replaced by the living room only glimpsed earlier. It all looked solid enough, though I stamped the floor to make sure. Yup. And the floor had the chalk circle on it now, I saw.

Jesse strode over to an easy chair and plopped into it heavily, head in his hands. I dropped the bags besides the couch before taking a seat. The corner of one bag, I noted, was missing. It had probably swung outside the circle when I stumbled. It was one of Jesse's. Serves him right.

"I think," he said in a shaky voice, "that I just rolled a ninety-nine."

Rolling one hundred would have been a critical failure, in the game. "Sounds about right," I said.

"Maybe I should practice a bit before I do any more major spells." His tone made it sound like it was the first time it had been proposed, and that it was his idea.

I looked down at the ruined bag, and the cross-section of its contents. "Yeah. You do that."

After the hectic events of the last few days, it was something of a relief to return to my simple job as a computer programmer. I had made no secret of going to a convention in Florida, and by the time I got back everyone on the planet had heard what had happened at that particular con. So it was no surprise when I was barraged with questions. What really happened? What was it like? How did I evade the quarantine? Was I affected at all? The first two questions I answered truthfully, for the most part, and enjoyed being the center of attention for a while. The other two, though, I was forced to lie over, lest I bring on the kind of attention I didn't want.

But that was two days ago. Today, with rare exception, it was just the usual monotony of work. Code, email, lunch, meeting, code some more.

It was late in the day when Drew, my boss, stopped by my cubicle. "Hey, Ash, they got the specs finalized on the next patch release." He handed me a thin sheaf of memos. I'd also get a copy in email, but Drew liked to hand out hard copy.

"Cool," I said. "Anything I should worry about?"

Drew didn't answer. He was too busy peering intently at my face. "You feeling okay, Ash?" he said at last.

"I feel fine. Why?"

He gestured at me, half point, half wave. "The skin on the bridge of your nose is turning black."

"It's what?" I reached to feel my face. A vertical strip of insensitive skin, bumpy but slick and perhaps two inches wide, ran from under my cap halfway down my nose.

"Turning black." Drew had backed up a step while I wasn't paying attention, probably to avoid getting infected with what was obviously some horrible skin disease. "You might want to get that checked out. In fact, I really think you should go to the doctor."

"Yeah... yeah."

I didn't leave immediately, though. I went to the bathroom, first. I knew already what I'd see, but I had to look, anyway.

Despite being made for multiple occupants, then men's room door still had a deadbolt lock on it. I used it. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, took off my cap, and looked into the mirror. The sight was not unexpected, but a jolt nevertheless. My forehead was a mass of scales forming the branches of a dark ''T.'' Its trunk went down my nose, the edges just kissing the corners of my eyes.

"Jesus." My face had definitely not been like that this morning. I felt the horns on my forehead... and then the second pair set further back, more on the top of my head and angled backwards. I'd discovered those yesterday. Were they larger now? It was hard to see them in the mirror, but my fingers told me they probably were.

Yesterday...

I'd found the second set of horns while shampooing my hair. A sudden shock, a scramble for the mirror. But they truly were hard to see. I had convinced myself that I had just never noticed them before. They'd always been there — since Xanadu, anyway. I mean, a second set of horns growing spontaneously from my skull... ludicrous! It made no sense, so obviously I must have just missed them.

And the idea that these painted-on scales were growing, expanding... just my imagination. Of course. It wasn't like I was keeping rigorous track, or anything! How was I supposed to tell whether the last scale before skin was this one or that one? And if the scales were now to the point where they wrapped around my wrist and crawled halfway down my fingers... well, obviously I'm misremembering their extent. Right? Just bring out the skin-colored makeup, slather it on, and ignore it. It's the same as it was yesterday, sure it is.

But it was hard to brush this off. This time the patch on my forehead was definitely, unarguably larger. I was quite certain that my cap had completely covered it this morning. As a matter of fact... I replaced it on my head and tugged it down as far as it would go. My suspicions were, unfortunately, confirmed. It didn't go down as far as it should have. As it once had. It was being held away from my scalp by that second pair of horns. Which in turn meant not only that they were clearly growing, but quite likely were indeed a new addition rather than being an original — if unnoticed — part of the change back in Florida.

I was out of the building not three minutes later.

One of the side benefits of leaving work a little early was that I missed the worst of rush hour. Which isn't to say the traffic was actually ''good.'' This was, after all, San Jose. Every traffic light, every highway slowdown tensed my muscles and strained my nerves.

"This can't be happening to me," I said over and over as I drove. "It just can't!" It was impossible. It was insane. It was infuriating! I ground my teeth over the situation and blasted my horn.

Naturally, I did not go to the doctor. This was no skin disease. There was nothing any doctor could do for me. Only one person could.

I should have known that Jesse wouldn't be home so early. Despite his more obvious changes (well, perhaps not ''more'' obvious, anymore, I amended), he had gone right back to work. He said it was no problem. I often wondered if it was a case of openminded coworkers or if he was using magic somehow. Or if he was just being optimistic. Whichever it was, it seemed to be working out so far, which meant he wouldn't be back for another hour, minimum. I gave him a ring on my cell phone and told him to get home soon. Real soon. Then I went and had dinner.

It was a very uneasy meal. I could feel every other person's eyes on me, on the discolored patch of skin, on my hat as they wondered exactly what it hid. Even then I knew it was an exaggeration, but I still felt it. And the looks the kid behind the counter gave me as he took my order were certainly real enough.

I didn't want to stay long. On the other hand, I didn't relish the idea of some neighbor calling the cops on me if I hung out in his front yard while I waited. It was a kind of balancing act, and for once I hit it perfectly. I pulled into his driveway right after he did.

"Hi, Ash!" he called as we got out of our cars. "What's up?"

"That's exactly what I want to know!" I yelled. I whipped off the baseball cap and pointed at my brow. "What the ''hell'' is up with this?"

His weatherbeaten face creased in a frown. "Let's go inside."

Once we were in his place, I got right back to it. "Look at this! I'm still growing scales! What the hell is happening, here?"

"I was afraid this might happen..." Jesse began, but then halted.

"Afraid of what, damn it?"

"Surely you knew. That you would continue to turn into a dragoness. Into Kyr."

I did know. It hit me like a punch in the belly, anyway. Gamely, I rallied with, "But I can't be! My costume wasn't of Kyr! I only made myself into a partial dragon, not a full one!"

"Wrong. You went as Kyr at the start of his transformation. Only a partial dragon, yes, but a part that was meant to increase."

I swore vehemently. "Why didn't you ''tell'' me this might happen?"

Jesse shrugged and got a Coke from the fridge. "You were having a hard enough time coping with the changes you had. You would have gotten yourself all worked up if I'd told you there might be more coming. In short, you didn't want to hear it."

"Yeah, but—"

"''And'' since I didn't know for sure that they ''were'' coming, there was no point in letting you panic just then."

"I am not panicking!"

Jesse just shrugged again and took a long pull from the can. "If you say so."

"Damn it! I'm not!"

"Then you're throwing a tantrum. But whether it's panic or shit fit, you would have done then what you're doing now. I didn't need that, then." He paused to give me a hard look. "I don't need it now, either."

A ''tantrum?'' "Fuck you! This is important! You're not fucking taking this seriously! And until you do, I am out of here!" I saw myself out, making sure to slam the door behind me.

Luckily, it was Friday, so I had another two days to figure out what I'd do about this. The problem was that there was absolutely nothing I ''could'' do. Kyr had some magic, true, but much of it was inherent to being a dragon, like her her ability to fly or to breathe fire. I couldn't use those, yet. The rest of her magic came from being a wizard's familiar; even if that was available to me now, I didn't know ''how'' to use it.

And neither type of magic would be able to prevent this slow change, anyway. I knew. I'd had Kyr try, way back when she was just my imagination and a sheet full of stats.

Naturally I wasn't about to leave the house like that. Which meant my weekend was spent watching television, interrupted by frequent trips to the bathroom mirror as I inspected myself for changes.

And changes there were! They seemed to come more quickly, now that they had an audience. Over those few days I watched my scalp grow black, my hair vanishing in lieu of bony knobs and bumps covered in scales. They crept down my face, as well, so that by Sunday night everything above my upper lip was covered. My ears had become merely fleshy, scale-covered hollows in my skull. My pupils were slitted, now, and the irises that filled the rest of the eye was a green so deep I thought at times they glowed.

My fingernails had grown long despite every effort I made to keep them short. Sharp talons now tipped every finger. My hands were entirely covered with scales, larger on my palm than the back, and they extended a few inches past each wrist as well. Black peeked out from beneath the edge of my watchband.

And Saturday afternoon I found the first of the scales on my feet. It seemed that this transformation was to proceed from my extremities inwards.

Friday and Saturday, each clear sign of change brought on another round of curses. Some of them prompted thrown objects. But tempers cannot remain forever hot. At some point Sunday I calmed down somewhat. I was still more than a little upset, but there was little point in getting violent over it.

Besides, it was time to do something about work. I picked up the phone and dialed — with excessive care, thanks to these damned talons.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jesse. Uh..." What to say? "Sorry I blew up like that. I guess you were right, I was panicking. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"It's okay. You were upset, and with good reason."

"Mind if I come over there? I need to see you."

"No problem," was the reply.

Jesse took one look at my face when he opened his door, then stood aside. "Come on in."

I waited until we had taken seats in his living room before speaking. "Getting into the role, I see."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't blink, or step back, or show any signs at all of surprise at how far this had gone."

"Ah." His smile was slight but genuine. "A wizard is supposed to be nigh-imperturbable, after all."

I nodded. "Right. Well, I hope you've practiced other facets of being a wizard. Like spellcasting."

"That I have. Small spells, mostly, but a few of higher order."

"Good. I want to reverse this spell. Change me back."

Jesse nodded slowly; evidently he'd anticipated the request. Then he looked at me gravely and said, "People have been trying to nullify Xanadu's spell for a week, now. If anyone's had any success, they're keeping quiet about it. Frankly, I doubt any wizard created ''by'' Xanadu — and that's every wizard, remember — will be able to cancel the spell ''of'' Xanadu."

"I'm not so sure I agree with that. Magic by definition breaks all the rules of logic. Who can say it won't do that here?"

"I'm a wizard, so I can."

I threw up my hands. "All right, whatever. That wasn't what I had in mind, anyway. All you need to do is negate ''your'' spell."

Jesse's bushy gray eyebrows rose for the first time. "''My'' spell? You mean the one cast in the game?"

"Essence Transference, yeah. You never actually cast it, I know, but thanks to my costume concept Xanadu thinks you have. So if you just negate that spell, I should change back."

"It won't work."

"I don't see why not. I've thought this through pretty carefully."

"Yes, but with incorrect data. Or rather, incomplete. At any rate, remember GIGO. It's a good idea, but it just won't work."

"And just what do you know that I do not?" I said with a snarl I could not quite suppress. Was this anger normal or was it part of being a dragon?

Jesse thankfully ignored the tone and concentrated on my actual words. "The change at Kubla Con made me a wizard. And that includes certain knowledge that I suddenly just know." He hastily held up a hand to forestall an angry reply. "Didn't do much for teleporting, I know. I think I was relying too much on it, to soon. But I still know things. And my grimoire is not a cookbook, either. There's more in there than lists of ingredients and instructions on combining them. There's notes on how each spell works. Not only what it does, but how. And after you left here Friday I looked up the Essence Transference spell."

He paused. "And?" I asked into the silence.

"Think of a heart transplant. Once it's done, it's done; you can't stop it from taking place when the patient is walking out of the hospital. The operation's over. Canceling it then can't be done.

"It's the same thing, here. This isn't some kind of ultra-slow polymorph spell. It's a soul transplant, essentially. But in the game — and now in real life, I suppose — you now have the soul of a female black dragon familiar."

''That'' was certainly news! I'd never thought about it that way. Still, "What about all this, then?" I asked, and waved my talons in the air.

"Heart transplants leave scars, which heal but slowly. Think of this as the scar healing. Your body is healing, as it were. But because your essence is that of a black dragoness, that's how you will heal. As a black dragoness."

Interesting. Hardly good, no... but interesting. Still, if that's how it works, then a solution is obvious. "So just cast it on me again. Give me the essence, the soul, of a male human."

"Can't. The notes say it can only be cast on any specific creature once."

"Damn it! That's stupid! Why the heck would there be such an idiotic limit on the spell?"

"Please don't ruin my furniture." Jesse pointed, and I glanced down. My hand had clenched, forcing my talons through the upholstery. I sheepishly extracted them as he continued. "There are two things you need to remember about this spell. First, this spell is not part of the official game spellbook. The GM made it up for the campaign to introduce you to an established high-level game. So if it's a little odd, it's probably because it wasn't completely thought out.

"Secondly, it was made for a game, as were all the spells in my grimoire. And being able to change someone, body and soul, into another creature is pretty powerful! In fact, it's listed as a fifteenth-order spell; Gray technically should not have had any hope of a successful casting in the game, but Keith hadn't said how high it was. Probably Xanadu determined it, somehow. Anyway, making it permanent like this adds a little more power, but is a major limitation because that will be the character's base form for the rest of the game. If it turns out to be a bad choice of target form, tough. The target is stuck."

"So you're saying ''I'm'' stuck?"

"I think so." He surprised me with a grin. "Could have been worse. I could have had a kobold familiar."

"Somehow, I don't feel appreciative." I had to think about this. After a time, Jesse left; there was a clanging from the kitchen, the gurgle of a coffee machine. When he returned I accepted a cup, took a sip, and spoke.

"You do your research into curing this thing. I just can't believe there is a spell that can't be reversed in any way! Meanwhile, cast a polymorph or that disguise spell on me so I can keep going to work."

"The disguise spell wears off after nine hours," Jesse warned. "The polymorph might last four. Maybe."

"So I stop by every morning so you can disguise me again."

"All right," he agreed. "But the other thing you have to keep in mind is that this is ''only'' an illusion. It may hide a tail and wings, when they start coming in, but that won't prevent them from banging into desks, or people from tripping over them. There's also the fact that it conforms to your body, which means you'll look like you're crawling on the carpet once you go quadrupedal. To say nothing of the increased size."

I frowned at that. I'd rather suspected the part about the wings and tail, but I had tried hard not to think at all about the rest. Walking on all fours... I shuddered to think of it, quite literally.

My friend's tone was serious as he continued, "In all honesty, Ash, you should just put in two week's notice with your job. I already did."

"Hmm. Maybe. Mention my name at your work, though. That way, if you stop this transformation, I'll have a foot in the door for your position."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to stop it."

"Don't say that! Damn it, you ''have'' to!" I leaned forward, eyes intent. "You have to!"

I returned the next morning so Jesse could disguise me as myself. Drew was clearly relieved when I showed up unblemished. The day itself went well, other than my computer crashing twice. Drew let me leave early, somewhat to my surprise; he's usually a stickler for the nine-to-five shtick. I used the time to get some food, and apparently I needed it since the spell gave way seconds after I closed the door to my place.

Tuesday, however, went significantly less well. The first time I sat down I got a painful surprise. It felt like I was sitting on a good-sized rock. And when I sat back, I discovered two more rocks behind my shoulders.

Had those appeared last week I would surely have rationalized them away as hives or unusually large blisters. But now, especially after Jesse's comments on Sunday, I knew immediately what they were. My wings and tail were starting to come in.

Every trip to Jesse's these days was urgent. This one was an emergency. I don't think I dropped below the speed limit once before I pulled into his driveway.

"You've got to do something!" I urged him. "Hasn't there been any progress?"

"Not really," he said, shaking his head. "I have an idea, but I need to look something up. I plan to go to the game shop later today and get a sourcebook."

"Good. Good. Here." I yanked my wallet out of my pocket and shoved a hundred at him.

"Um. I don't really need..."

"So you can buy the book! I don't need any more limbs, man."

He hesitated a moment more before taking the bill. "All right."

The drive to work was not comfortable. Neither was my cubicle's chair, even as padded as it was. No matter how I shifted around, my new appendages found a new way to ache. More than anything else, that solidified my decision. I gave Drew my two weeks notice that afternoon. He tried to get me to stay, but not very hard. I think he was beginning to suspect I hadn't quite escaped the convention unscathed.

The only problem came when it became apparent that I might not actually have two weeks. The slow crawling progression of scales continued unabated. It was worrisome enough on my arms and legs, but by Wednesday my head was a knobby, horny, scale-covered mass. I looked more like the Creature from the Black Lagoon than anything else, for a day or two.

Then bones started changing. Thursday my feet began to change, the proportions of the bones below the knee evening out. By Friday I was walking on the balls of my feet, which certainly earned me some odd looks from the people at work. But I had little choice; trying to walk or even stand flatfooted was awkward, even painful. Near the end of the day I was getting used to it, but I still tried one last time not to stand on tippytoes. I overbalanced badly and fell on my ass — a severely unpleasant experience, since the tail had not stopped growing.

Meanwhile, I no longer wore the baseball cap. It no longer even reached my head, hanging off my horns when I tried like they were a hat rack. And the same day I was forced off my heels I noticed that chewing my food felt strange. By dinnertime it was obvious that Kyr's muzzle was forming. It was small, more reminiscent of that of a cat or monkey than a dragon, but it would grow. Of that I had no doubts whatsoever.

And, of course, it did. It was very irritating, and not just because it was yet another sign of my humanity slipping through my fingers. As it grew out, speaking became more and more difficult. A muzzle is not properly designed for speech. (Human speech, anyway; Jesse theorized that I would be perfectly understandable in draconic tongues, were I to find someone who spoke any.) I could talk well enough if I did it very deliberately, but when I was preoccupied I sounded like a drunk. A drunk alligator, sometimes, all hissing.

The only good side of this was that the scale growth was retarded. At least on my head; everywhere else it went on as before. But it was as if only so many could be added and they had decided to push out rather than down. The front, as I was calling it, ended barely below my jaw and stayed there while my skull reshaped itself.

It was not to last. At the start of the work week, as my mouth underwent its last changes — my tongue altering, my teeth becoming longer and ''much'' sharper — the scales once more resumed their downward crawl. And a new problem developed.

Monday morning was normal enough. I woke up, inventoried in my head the latest changes, had breakfast, and headed over to Jesse's. As usual he had no real progress towards a cure, so he just disguised me and sent me on my way.

The first hour or two at work was fine, too, or at least as fine as it got these days. Midway through the morning I noticed my voice had acquired a harsh rasp. Clearing my throat helped only briefly. Indeed, "momentarily" is a more accurate word, for within a few minutes it was back. Coughing or drinking water gave the same results.

The rasp increased throughout the day. It sounded like I had an extremely sore throat, although in truth none of the changes ever actually hurt and this was no exception. Still, the new quality to my voice combined with my altered mouth to make it very hard for me to make myself understood. And it seemed to be getting worse. With some difficulty, I managed to pass it off to my coworkers as laryngitis. Or at least nobody argued with the claim, though I did get some funny looks.

There was no point in speeding over to Jesse's. A few minutes more or less would make no difference, I knew. So it was with a surprising calm that I told him, "My voice is starting to go."

"Yes, I see that." He chuckled for a moment. "Hear that, anyway."

"I don't think it's all that funny," I growled. I could growl quite impressively, now. It was very satisfying to see the wizard back up a pace.

"Sorry. Actually, I've been kind of wondering if this would happen. Keith played a little fast and loose about that."

I grunted agreeably. No race allowed in the game's rulebooks to be summoned as a familiar could talk. The GM had gotten around that by declaring that the "mental rapport" the books said wizards had with their familiars amounted to telepathy. This kept me, as a player, from having to tape my mouth shut to make sure I didn't comment on anything; everyone just pretended the words were relayed through Gray. Technically, though, Kyr had been rendered mute. Only Gray could hear him.

"Don't want to lose my voice," I rasped.

"I understand. Trust me, I understand." Jesse went to his refrigerator and pulled out a mayonnaise jar. Its contents more closely resembled deli-style mustard than mayo, however, with specks of something suspended in the glop. But even mustard wasn't green. It looked spectacularly unhealthy to touch, much less eat.

"I don't know what to do about your voice," Jesse said. "I guess I'll look into that next—"

"Please."

"—but this may help slow down the spread of your scales. Maybe even reverse it, though I'm not as confident on that one. Just spread it on the leading edge of them, like a skin cream. Yeah, like that."

The stuff was viscous and smelled nasty, but I applied it to my neck without hesitation. "How long'll it take?"

"Results? A day, maybe two. If there's no change by Wednesday night, then it's safe to say it didn't work."

"Okay." I cleared my throat uselessly. "In the meantime, work on saving my voice. Please! It's kind of important to me."

"I'll do what I can."

Unfortunately, that turned out not to be very much. My voice continued to deteriorate until, long before the week ended, I was unintelligible to everyone except Jesse. Almost surely it was due to that "rapport" he had with me. But I had to avoid conversations as much as I could and scrawl my thoughts out on a notepad when I could not. It wasn't easy, thanks to my claws, and it didn't help at all that my hands were beginning to change. They were getting ready to become forefeet.

Drew pretended not to notice, or mind. But he let me go early, well before my two weeks were up. I don't blame him; those last few days I barely got anything done.

Jesse's skin ointment — whatever it was made of, and it definitely wasn't mayo or mustard with extra coloring and stuff added in — wasn't working, either. My skin continued to turn dark and scaly. They crawled over my shoulders and began to merge with those coming down my neck. They were reaching for my hips and groin, and it wasn't hard to realize that when they were covered I would no longer be bipedal, or male. I spent a lot of time trying to decide which I dreaded more.

My "extra limbs" were still growing, too. The wings only spread out about two feet to each side, but other than size they looked complete. The tail was thick and muscular, and getting quite long; if I crouched a little I could feel the tip brushing against the floor. I had little control over anything, though. Whenever I tried to move them they just flailed about. But they forced me to give up wearing any clothing on Wednesday, four days after Jesse had advised me to rely on the disguise spell for my modesty. It was yet another reminder that I was no longer human.

Even the most idiotic driver couldn't fail to notice me now, and even if I dared it my tail prevented me from sitting in the driver's seat. So I was stuck in my apartment with nothing to do but be a couch potato and watch myself change.

On Sunday I awoke and quickly discovered a crick in my back. There was no way I could stand up straight. A quick check showed that the scales were over my hips. My groin was... strange. The scales had not transformed the skin there, but rather formed themselves into a tent of sorts. There was a bulge there rather like that of too-tight pants, but by the end of the day even that had been smoothed out. All my plumbing was suddenly internal, which made going to the bathroom something of an adventure.

I didn't get very upset at the changes, anymore. Not even that one. I simply sighed and added another checkmark to the mental list. It was all terribly depressing.

''You've been moping about the place for a week, now. Stop it.''

But it wasn't like I had anything else to do. No job, and everyone else would run if they saw me.

''Oh, I'm not so sure about that. In the right setting...''

But I was sure. Then I blinked. Who the hell was speaking, anyway? There was nobody here but me.

''I'm Jesse, of course. Remember the rapport?''

I did, even if it sounded like the title to a bad poem. "If this means I'm going to have you in my head forever, then I think I'm going to have to find someone to shoot me," I said. Or tried to say.

The words managed to get through. ''Don't be so hasty. You're not reading ''my'' mind, are you? The reverse is true as well, I assure you.'' There was a pause, and I got the impression he was frowning. ''I haven't heard from you in a while. You okay, man?''

"Not really," I growled out loud. For now I wasn't going to try just thinking at him. "For one thing, calling me 'man' is no longer appropriate. In either sense."

Another pause. ''Oh.''

"Yeah."

''Maybe I should come over.''

"Please don't. This is bad enough as it is, without a visitor."

''I'm not a visitor, I'm a friend — or so I hope. Besides, I bet you're hungry.''

Calling it hunger was an understatement by several orders of magnitude. I was, in fact, down to eating pancake mix. "All right."

Jesse didn't take very long, but thoughts of real food made it seem like forever. I spent the time learning how to think-talk to him. I also learned how to think in a manner that he would not overhear, which to say the least was a great relief.

This was the first time since Xanadu that Jesse had come to me instead of the other way around. He stepped inside quickly, laden with groceries, and looked at me appraisingly as I nudged the door shut with my tail. "Geez, man... er, girl. You should have named yourself Bertha, not Kyr!"

I was a little surprised, myself. I hadn't realized I had grown so much. But despite walking on all fours, my head was barely below his. Looking straight at him gave me an excellent view of his beard. ''Never mind that,'' I thought at him, ''where's the food?''

Jesse laughed and began taking it out of the bags. My mouth was suddenly filled with saliva as I saw what he'd brought: meat. Pounds and pounds of meat. "I wasn't sure how much you'd need," he said, grinning.

It turned out he had brought far more than I could eat. I hadn't grown all ''that'' much, yet. I was able to gorge myself before flopping onto the couch.

''Thanks,'' I told him, and meant it.

"No problem," he said. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But while I really was worried about your food supplies, giving you a jumbo-sized meal wasn't the whole reason I wanted to see you."

I eyed him suspiciously. ''Oh?''

"Have you thought about what you're going to do in the future? How you're going to live?"

I shrugged. ''A little. Not much, though. I didn't have to. Not many ways for a dragon to live. Unless you know some farms' herds I could raid?''

"Probably some up north, or east. But I think I've managed to come up with something a little more civilized. The first step, though, is that you should move in with me."

''And why would I ever do that?''

"You said it yourself: you are trapped indoors. It's difficult at best for you to go out even to get food. Paying bills like cable and rent will be a problem when you can't go out to the ATM or write a check. If you live with me, I'll take care of that. Besides," he said, and grinned again, "You ''are'' my familiar. Having you around can be a big help to me."

It made an annoying amount of sense. Still, I resisted. ''And what do you get out of this?'' I asked grumpily.

"Like I said, I get the benefit of having my familiar alongside me where she should be, rather than twenty miles away. And I'm hoping you'll be my partner in my new business venture. I could really use you there."

I looked at him intently. ''Business venture? What business venture?''

It wasn't complicated, but it was unique. At least, I'd never heard of anyone trying to do it. And it might even work, too. At the end of Jesse's spiel, there was really only one thing I could say.

''You want me to do ''what,'' exactly?''

{{Separator|stars}}

The excited jabbering of children was audible all the way in the back yard where my "lair" had been set up. I could, just barely, make out doors slamming shut from two — no, three — cars.

''They're late,'' I thought-spoke to Jesse — or Gray, as he now preferred to be called in public.

''Lighten up. Ten minutes is not that bad,'' he thought back. ''You're just nervous because this is your first birthday party. Hold on.''

''To what?'' I asked. I added a mental grin that I knew he would receive; this rapport thing was pretty versatile. I got a kind of mental chuckle in return.

I waited for most of a minute before Gray spoke again. ''Nine kids, three adults,'' he reported.

''Big group,'' I said.

''I guess somebody has wealthy parents.''

Very true. We were offering rides on dragonback, after all, not planes or even helicopters. People pay fifty dollars or more to bungee jump, and that can be done almost anywhere. But people would have to search long and very hard before they'd find another dragon to ride. We offered a service that was utterly unique, and we expected our prices to only go up.

Not that we were presently cheap. A fifteen-minute jaunt was forty bucks, thirty for kids. Longer trips cost more, up to a few hundred per person for an hours-long tour of San Francisco Bay. I doubted these people would be doing that; I couldn't carry that many people at once on my back. But even at the cheapest, these people would be giving us nearly three hundred dollars just for the rides. Add in the tee shirts and other stuff they might buy... not bad for an afternoon's flying.

''Ash? I'll be out in just a minute. Wrapping up the safety lecture now. You about ready out there?''

''Sure.'' There wasn't much for me to do, frankly, other than look as competent and as harmless as a dragon can look. The only thing I did was stand up. We'd found it's better they see my entire length straight out than for me to try the impossible feat of seeming small.

And then they were out the door. The crowd of boys (and two girls, I saw) shrieked happily when they saw me there. The adults, two women and a man, looked anxious.

"You're sure she's safe?" one of the women asked.

"Positive," Gray said, oozing confidence. "She doesn't want anything to happen to them any more than we do. She's sentient. Say hello, Kyr."

''It's Ash, damn it.'' But I raised one foreleg and waved a greeting. The woman still looked doubtful, but she didn't protest again.

The kids were looking up at me with wide eyes. That was nothing new; after my week-long growth spurt, Gray had measured me at thirty-four feet from the tip of my tail to the front of my muzzle. It was about the length of two parked cars, enough to impress anybody. One boy, bolder than the rest, dared to touch the scales on one leg. When I didn't immediately eat him the rest joined in, rubbing, poking, and pinching all over. That wasn't unusual, either, and once again I was glad that my scales were less sensitive than skin.

"All right, girl. Time to saddle up."

It had taken some doing to persuade someone to make a saddle for me. It had also taken some doing to make me wear the thing. But Gray had persisted, and I had to admit there was no way it'd be safe to let them fly bareback. And we couldn't afford to get sued. We'd been open for business for a month now, and the government was still trying to decide whether to try shutting us down. One easily prevented accident would have disastrous consequences for us, and for the "Magic Rights" movement that had sprouted in the two months since Xanadu.

Kids seemed to love watching me get saddled. It soothed the nerves of people who were a bit leery of thirty-four foot flying reptiles, too, when they saw me placidly submit to the ordeal.

I shifted and stretched to get the straps just so as Gray straightened. "Now, who's first?" he shouted over the noise. Nine hands lifted simultaneously. "She can only carry two at a time, I'm afraid. There were some disappointed groans.

''I'll take the birthday boy first, alone,'' I said. ''They'll consider that fair.''

"I just thought of the solution. The birthday boy can go first! Then the rest of you can pair up."

''You shameless idea thief.'' But I was smiling.

I crouched, and the young boy was lifted and securely buckled in. Gray tugged here and there on the straps as a final check. Then I spread my wings, beat them twice, and launched.

It had taken a while to get the hang of flying, and more for the landings. But it was getting more comfortable by the day. All the practice this venture was giving me had certainly helped. The only thing left was to move the business out of the house. The neighbors were very nervous about me.

But that was for Gray to worry about. Indeed, I was beginning to think he got the bad end of this deal. The magical consulting and spellcasting side to the venture that would have been his bailiwick was getting only a bunch of people who wanted their palms read. And for this side of the partnership, it was he who has to worry about administration, paperwork, safety, and the government. I just had to fly. And not eat anyone, of course.

As a whole, though, the business was clearly a success in the works. We already had at least a few people every day coming in for a ride. I could easily believe we'd have a full schedule by Valentine's Day, maybe even start hiring some help.

It was hardly a life I had ever anticipated living. It certainly wasn't one I would have chosen. But it wasn't bad, not bad at all. I could get to like this. Especially the flying.

I tucked my wings in and dove. Behind me, the boy screamed in joyful terror. He was loving it.

I smiled mentally. ''I'm with you, kid.''

<comments />

{{author endnote|This story was actually a commission. Somebody read my other Xanadu story, [[Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest]], and liked the setting and my writing well enough to pay me to write his character into the setting. The request was for a slow transformation into a female dragon, and he wanted the character to go through as many of the stages of acceptance — anger, denial, bargaining, and so forth — as I could manage to get in there. Xanadu doesn't exactly lend itself to slow changes, so it took some thought before we came up with this little plot device. I also had extensive discussions on what Kyr could do, the relationship between her and her master, and what they might do with their lives. I didn't want this to just be one long description of a transformation, after all. I did want this to be a story.

Overall, I think I succeeded. I like this one, and not just because I made a profit of sorts on it. Ash slowly becoming Kyr, little by little, over the course of a month or so, was fun to write. I personally think I overdid Ash's emotions a bit, though.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Mythical]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Refamiliarization}}

User:Xodiac

2007-09-18T07:59:36Z

Xodiac: Protected "User:Xodiac" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

Xodiac has been a reader and writer of transformation fiction since 1997.

==Stories==

*[[Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, two people must dodge someone trying to kill them even as they try to come to grips with their new bodies — and the new feelings they suddenly have for each other.

*[[Free]]
:Even the most overwhelming grief can be overcome, with the help of the right visitor.

*[[The Fugitive]]
:The men with guns are coming. It's time to fight or flee.

*[[Loving Halloween]]
:The grass is always greener on the other side, as one man discovers while doing a little above-age trick-or-treating.

*[[Refamiliarization]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, a man goes to Kubla Con as his RPG character, and finds he's locked himself into a new career.

*[[Replay]]
:Set in [[User:Posti|BobStein's]] [[:Category:Walk-A-Mile|Walk-a-Mile]] universe, one patron stops in a strange new store, where he just might find exactly what he needs.

*[[Stable Home Life]]
:A tenant finds that his new digs aren't quite the great deal he thought they were.

*[[Ten Seconds]]
:A short mood piece, brief enough that a summary would essentially spoil it.

*[[Where's the Beef?]]
:Set in Bill Hart's [[:Category:Spells_R_Us|Spells 'R' Us]] setting, a frat brother goes to the wrong place for a costume. Somebody's sure in for a surprise!

[[Category:Author]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Xodiac}}

Replay

2007-09-18T07:57:47Z

Xodiac: Protected "Replay" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

Chris was glad to be out of the store, even if it was only for lunch.
He was so tired of being behind the counter; he much preferred to be the customer. And burritos had lost all their charm a while ago. The pizza joint a few stores down made better food. He was thinking of looking for a new job, too; it was as monotonous as the food. The only benefit was that it paid the bills, usually.

His pace slowed as he passed the new store between the two restaurants. It must have finally opened up while he was off for the weekend. "Walk a Mile," he read aloud, and looked in the window. Used shoes. "Oh, good grief," he said, rolling his eyes at the joke.

He paused, then went in. His sneakers were getting rather threadbare; perhaps he could find some cheap replacements. ''As if I could afford any other kind,'' he thought, and snorted.

"Hello, young man," a friendly woman's voice called out as he entered.
A short, shabby-looking woman put a pair of shoes on a shelf and nodded a welcome at him. "You're one of our first customers! Feel free to try any of these on."

Chris glanced at his graying hair in the mirror behind the counter.
''Young man?'' he mused. ''She's hardly older than I, and I'm pushing fifty!'' He nodded politely in response and started browsing the shelves.

The variety of shoes available was amazing. There were pumps and stiletto heels, baby shoes and sneakers of all types. They were not well organized, however. Dance shoes and loafers and even a pair of bunny slippers were all right next to each other. It looked like the stock were put on the shelves wherever there was space available.

In a way, however, the arrangement made a strange kind of sense. After all, where in a traditional footwear display would you catalog a full set of four horseshoes?

"See anything you like?" the dowdy little woman said from behind him, startling him.

"No, I'm just browsing." He walked a few feet down the short aisle and stopped cold. "Hey!"

"Ah, you ''do'' see something!"

Chris pointed at a pair of children's sneakers. They were a bright red, once, but the color had faded with time and what appeared to be rigorous use. The shoelaces were dirty and the fabric had a hole over the spot where the big toe went. "Where'd you get those? I had a pair just like them when I was seven!"

"It's mostly an exchange program," the proprietor said casually.
"Occasionally we just find pair that we feel meets our standards, though, and we put them up."

Chris picked up one of the shoes and looked it over carefully. "I loved mine, wore them until they were dead. In a sudden fit of nostalgia, he blurted, "I'll take them."

"Certainly, dear. Why don't you try them on, then?"

Chris looked at her oddly. She seemed entirely serious. "Lady, I can't wear these. They're made for a kid."

"I can size anything to fit, even those. Go ahead and try them on."

The woman was obviously batty, but he took a seat to humor her. One halfhearted try and he could get out of here. But the shoe fit perfectly. There was no effort to it at all. He stared at his foot, astonished.

"Now the other one," she prompted him. He was too stupefied to disobey. The second fit just as well as the first. "There now, I told you I could fit those."

Chris finally found his voice enough to mumble, "That is totally weird." He wriggled his toes in the sneakers, and had to restrain from giggling when he saw his big toe move through the hole.

"Our return policy is pretty lenient," the older woman told him. "You can try them out for a while, no cost to you. But if you walk more than a mile in them, they're yours."

He tried a few experimental steps around the store. They seemed to be working well enough. "Right. Fine. I'll be seeing you later." He waved to her absently as he walked out the door, lost in thought.

He'd only gone a few steps when he realized he'd never paid for the shoes. For that matter, he'd entirely forgotten about getting a real replacement pair. He put his hand in his pocket and turned around, then stopped suddenly. His wallet was gone. For that matter, so was the little shopping center.

He was still standing on a sidewalk. But instead of the line of closely packed stores was a row of small houses. Picket fences surrounded neatly manicured lawns that seemed somehow familiar.
Everything had changed, including, much to his dismay, himself.

He was a kid. "What the ''hell?''"

"Shh!" Came the hurried whisper from behind him. "Tessa will tell for sure if she hears you say that!"

"''What?''" Chris blurted as he whirled around. His younger sister had died eight years ago in a car crash, along with Jason. Her husband and his best friend. Who was standing in front of him, no older than himself.

"C'mon," the ghost said. "I don't want to be around her. You can never have any fun."

Chris didn't follow. ''You'll have fun enough with her in twelve or thirteen years. What the hell is going on?''

The answer was absolutely obvious, even if it was also absolutely impossible. He looked down at his feet. They ''had'' been his shoes, and somehow — Lord only knows how — he was seven again.

The woman's voice suddenly sounded inside his head. With the day's events he wasn't even sure if it was just a memory. "If you walk more than a mile in them, they're yours."

He could take the shoes off and return to the present. Or the future, depending. But that wasn't very appealing. He'd never gone to college. He'd gone to work for his father at the drugstore straight out of high school and drifted ever since from job to job. There'd been some good times, but such times were few and carefully regimented. He'd sold the years in order to exist, little more.

On the other hand, being seven wasn't especially inviting either.
Chris tried to remember what it had been like. No power at home. In to bed at eight, no questions. A meager allowance. A bike that could use a bit of work, and a pretty small group of friends. School. Rules, rules, and more rules.

But at least a seven-year-old had room to grow. He could ''do'' something with his life, this time.

"Hey, wait up!" he cried, running after his friend.

{{Separator|stars}}

In the shop, the worn-out sneakers he had been wearing disappeared from the floor, to reappear a moment later on the shelf. The old woman
smiled slightly and considered. They'd not be taken very quickly, with
a life such as that. But there was always someone out there willing to buy a fixer-upper.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Walk-A-Mile]] [[Category:Age_Regression]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Replay}}

Stable Home Life

2007-09-18T07:57:28Z

Xodiac: Protected "Stable Home Life" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I looked around my new apartment feeling very pleased with myself. The area had been a farm in a previous life, but encroaching civilization had forced the previous owner to sell the property. There was new construction where fields had been, and the barn had been converted to living space. It still had some of the feel of a barn, though, the apartments laid out in a very organized manner that reminded me of stalls and rough planks and beams visible instead of the more finished look of most apartments. I loved it; the place had character.

Amazingly for a new apartment, it came fully furnished. As far as I was concerned that was absolutely perfect. I had only signed the lease last week and had already moved my meager possessions in and unpacked most of them. Rex, my cat, had been the last to arrive, getting here yesterday. He was busy rubbing himself on everything in sight. I could just imagine, "Mine! Mine! That too! And that! All mine!" going through his kitty mind.

"Am I the first to move in?" I asked the manager. She was a sweet old lady who barely came to my elbow. I had to keep an eye out since I constantly felt like I'd step on her if I wasn't careful.

"Oh my, no," she said. "In fact, you're one of the last."

"The miracle of modern advertising," I said, grinning. We both chuckled at the joke; her advertising consisted of a sign outside reading, "Vacant apartments available."

"You need anything, just let me know," she said one more time. She was actually getting on my nerves that way, but I just nodded. It seemed to satisfy her and she left.

I spent the next few hours getting the last of my things unpacked. I put the last of my book collection on the shelves in the spare room. I owned a lot of books; they covered most of the wall space. The shelves were one of the few pieces of furniture I'd needed to bring into the apartment when I moved in. Luckily, they were one of the few pieces I owned, along with the television. Dorm life makes people frugal in their furnishings.

After dinner I settled down in my favorite chair with one of those books. The cable still wasn't turned on, so it was either that or just go to bed, and I much preferred reading if I was able.

It was hard to concentrate, though. There was a loud thumping coming from one of the apartments next door. It sounded like someone was stomping as hard as they could on the hardwood floors. "Dancer?" I mumbled to myself. If that was it she was the clumsiest dancer on the planet, or maybe it was one of those modern things. I tried to figure out how long this had been going on, to estimate when it might stop, but it was tricky. I'd made a lot of noise of my own shoving the boxes of books into here and putting them on the shelves. It was silent when the manager had left, I knew that, but otherwise I couldn't guess.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Keep it down, willya?"

There was no change, though. Actually, there was. A second later the sound was being duplicated from the apartment on the other side.
Swearing, I got up and went into the main hallway.

"Hey!" I shouted, pounding on the door of the first noisy apartment.
"I'm trying to read, man!" No success even then. I stood there, fuming, for several minutes. "Fine! I'm getting the manager to register a complaint!" I said as I turned to go.

By the time I got to the exit the building was utterly silent.

I swore again and headed back to my books. No reason to bother her if she wasn't needed. Still, I wondered if this was such a great place after all.

It was quiet after that. I heard not a sound from the other apartments, which allowed me to immerse myself deeply into my book. It was an old favorite of mine that I'd had for several years and read at a dozen times. I read it straight through, making it a baker's dozen. It was dark by the time I finished, and Rex had curled up on the back of the chair. My feet had gone to sleep, too. I closed the book with a satisfied sigh and rubbed them to get some feeling back.

And stopped. "What the...?" I mumbled. They felt very odd. I lifted one to look, and gasped. The thing was huge, misshapen. My foot had somehow pulled out of the shoe that couldn't hope to contain it, and my toenails were dark and huge.

I wriggled my foot again, and it moved. It was my foot all right. But it couldn't be! I tried to stand, but immediately fell back into the chair. I couldn't seen to put my foot flat on the ground. "Ok, think... think!" Maybe this was some sort of infection. But it had developed so fast! Besides, it didn't actually hurt, it was just kind of numb, with a bit of tingling on my shins where this... whatever it was ended. But if not an infection, then what?

I looked down at my foot again, hoping to get some better idea, and got the second shock of the evening. It actually looked worse now, if that were possible. My toenails had grown to cover my entire toes, and had actually fused a bit at the back into one mass. A cautious scrape against the rug revealed that I could still feel through it, although the sensations were dulled a bit. And the foot had elongated terribly, and looked thinner as well.

Once more I tried to stand. I had to get to a phone, call the ambulance or something. But that was in the kitchen. I'd only needed one phone in the dorm, and hadn't gotten an extension yet. "Damn!" I cursed as I teetered on my mutant toes. I took a hesitant step, then another, and then fell back once more into the chair.

"Ow! Dammit!" That hurt! It felt like I landed on a rock or something! I twisted around to look accusingly at the chair, but it was innocent. It was still nicely padded and rock-free. A quick feel of my butt, though, revealed something growing there.

A tail. "Oh my god..." I felt around, through the fabric of my pants.
They were starting to get tight, actually, pressed from the rear by my impossible new appendage. I moaned and started to unbuckle my belt when I noticed that my hands were getting numb now as well.

I could only stare silently. They looked like my feet. The nails had grown, turned black, and I had no doubt they'd start to merge together in a minute. My palms had elongated and thinned. I noticed white hair growing on them, and a quick check confirmed it was growing on my feet as well now.

My pants were painfully tight now, and so was my shirt. With every inward breath it seemed to grow tighter, and I could do nothing but moan as I watched the buttons grow taut. Through the space between I could see my chest, covered in white fur.

"Help me! Somebody help meeeee!" But my plea devolved into a meaningless whinny. I could see my nose growing, now, no doubt changing into that of a horse. Rex woke up at my cry and gave a terrified screech of his own before running to hide under my bed. I hardly blamed him.

My clothes began to rip at the seams, finally giving me some relief. I could feel my hips changing, and managed to roll over the side of the chair before sitting because too painful. I landed on all fours, and couldn't get up again. My new tail whipped about, and the last of my shredded clothing fell down around me. And yet... I still wore something. I hadn't noticed as it appeared -- there had been too much happening at once -- but I could feel something around my head. Straps of some sort ran down the length of my face and over the back of my head. A bridle, I realized suddenly. It was still too large for me, but in a minute or two it'd fit fine, I was willing to bet. My face was still expanding, after all.

My vision started getting blurry. Or... wait. No. It was my apartment! Everything, the wall, the floor, even my own books, started to get blurry and fade away, to be replaced by... a stable. Of course.
Dammit, this couldn't be happening! I whinnied loudly again and lunged for the door. It had become an ordinary stall door, and there was no chance of opening it when my hands had turned into hooves. I turned to get space for a good running leap, and bumped up against another wall.
The entire space had shrunk on me! I really was in a horse's stall!

Oddly, the only thing I could think of was to hope Rex was still okay, wherever he was.

{{Separator|stars}}

The manager sighed as she poured herself a cup of tea. She glanced towards the barn; she could still hear the frightened screams of her new horse. He'd get used to it, she thought. They others had.

It had been a stroke of genius to go into business this way, she mused.
Spending a few dozen dollars on some herbs and a few hours preparation was so much cheaper than buying a horse for a few hundred. A simple illusion of new housing would always bring somebody in. Illusionary addresses made it untraceable, too; even if they did tell friends or relatives or even the government where they were moving to, they'd never be found.

"Here kitty," she called to the hallway. Rex hissed at her and ran to another room. She just shrugged. Rex would get used to his new home too, in time. Or she could give him to somebody, if that didn't work.
But she was confident it would.

The manager sipped her tea. More sugar, she thought, and reached for the jar.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Equine]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Stable Home Life}}

Where's the Beef?

2007-09-18T07:56:38Z

Xodiac: Protected "Where's the Beef?" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I work when I want to, not by any schedule. Still, I thought, looking at the Elvis clock on the wall swinging its hips, it was about time.

I took a long breath, then opened the store. Someplace in some mall somewhere a vacant stall was being replaced with the distinct storefront of Spells 'R' Us.

It's not usually more than a few minutes before someone who fits all my requirements comes by, and today was no different. Not ten minutes after I moved the store a young man walked in. He looked like a football linebacker: tall and broad, with brown hair and blue eyes and pretty good looks. If he was the quarterback he'd have more women than he could handle. As it is he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting a date. Probably took them for granted.

Perfect.

I watched on the security monitor (a mundane one — why use magic for absolutely everything?) for a few minutes as he browsed. Sometimes I come out of the back nearly immediately, but I felt like playing with this one. What should I make of him, I wondered. A cheerleader in love with his current best friend? No, too cliche. A little girl too young for grade school, much less college? Hm, perhaps. Or what about an old woman? I haven't done that in a while.

In the end I decided to wait. Sometime things make what to do obvious, like two days ago when three seniors entered making nasty coments about Ricky Martin. The three freshman girls who left were much more appreciative. But here nothing was really suggesting itself here. Time to go up front.

As I emerged from the doorway I moved my fingers in the subtle movement that would activate the Knowledge spell. Everything I needed to know flooded into my brain in an instant. "Hello, Robert. What can I do for you today?" The spell had told me that already, but it's not good to show too much knowledge you're not supposed to have too soon. It scares the customers away, and that's no fun.

"How did you know...?" the young man — he was indeed a linebacker — asked in the usual puzzled tone.

"I'm a wizard, of course." You'd think more people would recognize my robe for what it is. "You don't think a place like this would be run by anything less, do you?"

"Uh... right."

He thinks I'm crazy, or at least playing around. I decided it was time to blow his mind. A little earlier than usual, but what the heck. "So what do you need? A love potion to get that girl you want? Or, no, wait. You already have Alice." Robert's eyes went wide. "What about a present for her? Her birthday is coming up, I understand." His mouth opened in an O of surprise. "Or... wait, I have it. You need a costume!"

Robert's mouth dropped wide open. "But... but.. how did you know that?! I mean... ''how?''"

I smiled, feeling a warm glow deep inside me. I ''live'' for that moment.
But it was time to back off a little; the bait was hooked, but he hasn't quite bitten yet and I could still scare off the fish if I wasn't careful.

"The party's not a new thing. Surely you don't think I didn't know about it from other customers?" He was the first customer for this party, of course, but he'd never know that.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I need a costume for the frat party. But the other stores just have crap like pirates and rabbits and stuff. I was hoping for something more interesting, like a lizardman or something."

"Well, if you want interesting, you've certainly come to the right place. Let me go in back and see what I have in your size. Wait here."

I stepped back through the door. My office had been replaced with the enormous storeroom — the man who invented the Roaming Portal spell was a genius — and the costume section was nearby. Everything was nearby, really, including the costume I had in mind for him.

"Here you go," I said as I re-entered the shop. "I'm afraid this is all I had in your size. It's a minotaur costume."

"A minotaur, huh? That's a bull mixed with a human, right?" Robert asked as he took the bundle from my arms and looked at the mask.

"Pretty much, although in this case it's a cow." I shrugged apologetically, feeling anything but.

Robert's shot his gaze around to me. "A ''cow?'' I can't wear that!"

"Why not? Aren't there prizes for not being recognized? Heck, nobody would even suspect you in that thing! It molds to your body and your body to it; any misplaced bulk will be hidden perfectly. Not that I expect there to be much of that," I said, making sure he noticed me eying his body. I'd picked the costume partly because he was so big. It was too appropriate to resist. "And like I said, it's the only one your size anyway."

That did it. "Okay, how much?"

"Thirty bucks per day."

"That's not cheap," he pointed out.

"It's a good costume. Besides, you only need it tonight."

"True enough." The linebacker pulled out his wallet and counted out thirty dollars. "Here you go. See you tomorrow."

"Just a moment," I called out as I put the money in the register — another mundane item, although there's a few very nonstandard anti-burglary additions I put on it. "There's a few things you need to know."

"What's that?" Robert looked at the door, anxious to get going.

"There's a few rules you need to know. First—"

"Rules? For a costume?" He looked at me like I was insane. "That's stupid."

"That's how it is, my boy," I scolded. "Now, don't rip, break, or otherwise damage the costume in any way. At all." Harder than it sounds, since the club that comes with that minotauress is pretty fragile. "Don't wear it past ten tonight, and bring it in before 10 am tomorrow." That would force him to leave the party ridiculously early, and I knew Robert was not a morning person. "You can't have any alcohol while in the costume or for four hours afterwards." I rather doubted he'd be able to resist, at a frat party. "Don't stain it..." I continued like that for at least two minutes before letting him leave, costume in hand.

I let out a sharp bark of laughter as I returned to the office. Those rules were tedious and complicated. They're hard to pay attention to, much less follow appropriately. He'll be waking up tomorrow as a nice docile dairy cow named Bertha.

The next day I opened in the same mall. I wanted to see my handiwork.

"Hey, wizard! Here you go! Where are you?"

It was Robert! He wasn't a cow at all! I rushed out from the back.

"Oh, hi," he called as he saw me. Then he paused. "What's wrong?" I realized I was staring at him as he set the costume on the counter.

"I, uh..." I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible! "Surprised to see you here, is all."

"Why? I needed to get this back before ten, you said. So here you go." He pushed the bundle at me.

Of course! That has to be it. "Did you even wear it?"

"Oh, sure. Wow, that thing is great. Really made me look like a minotaur woman. Felt like it, too. I even had to piss sitting down!"
Robert shook his head, grinning. "That was an experience, let me tell you."

He wore it? And he's still here? "You stayed away from cigars? No grass eating? No alcohol, milk, or beef? You didn't wear anything other than what came with the costume? You didn't dance?"

Robert shook his head at each question. "No, of course not. You told me not to. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's follow directions."

I looked at him, speechless. He followed the directions.

"I admit, it was hard," he continued when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "I mean, it was a pretty boring party with all those restrictions."

I just stared. He followed the directions!

The young man fidgeted and averted his gaze from me. "I had to leave early, and went to sleep before midnight in order to get here on time."

I can't believe he followed the directions!

"Look, are you all right? Not having a heart attack or anything, are you?"

"No... it's just... Um. Never mind, go home. Have fun. You deserve it."
I scooped up the costume and strode towards the back. By the time I got back to the monitors he was gone.

I dropped by the storeroom and carefully put the costume back on the rack. Then I closed the shop, although not in the normal way. Instead I went to the front and exited the front door, locking it behind me.

There's a good bar in this mall, I knew. Time for a good stiff drink.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Spells_R_Us]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Where's the Beef?}}

Loving Halloween

2007-09-18T07:41:51Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

Chris loved Halloween. It's one of the only times when he got to see people acting kinda goofy and not worrying about who sees.

It's also one of the only times he could put on his Werewolf costume in public. It was beautifully done, with real animal hair, glowing red eyes, mobile jaw, and a tail that he could halfway control by subtle hip movements. He was quite proud of it, having made it himself.

Chris might wear it in public only rarely, but he wore it around the house fairly often after work. He was one of those strange individuals who wished they were something else. He'd wanted to be a werewolf since he saw his first horror film. The grace and power of the form were very alluring.

Halloween night he went trick-or-treating around the area. His neighbors didn't mind that someone in their twenties was begging for candy, they gave to anyone in costume. Indeed, the entire area really got into the Halloween Spirit each year, using home-made decorations and strange items. No store-bought plastic miniature gravestones ever appeared on his block; instead people would rent real ones. His next door neighbor had a real skeleton and coffin in her front yard. And everybody was in costume.

So it was hardly a surprise when a sorceress answered the door.

"Hey, nice," Chris said as she opened the door.

"You like it?" she asked, posing a little. Then she reached for the bucket filled with chocolate.

"I do indeed." And he didn't like just the costume, either. Her body filled the low cut dress admirably. He grinned as she dropped his favorite chocolate bar — full-sized, no less — into his bag.

"You should see me with a wand!" she said proudly as she twirled the one in her fingers like a baton.

The whirling wand slipped from her fingers. She made a grab for it as the centrifugal force sent it flying at Chris' face. She missed. He had barely realized what had happened before it hit.

Chris blacked out for a moment. He knew it was only a moment because he was still standing in front of her. But he'd felt the impact through the mask. That wand must be made of lead, he thought, slightly dazed.

The wand's owner had her fingers curled into her mouth in the classic feminine "oops" pose. "You all right?" she asked timidly.

"Yeah, fine."

"Sorry about that," she said as she retrieved the wand from the porch. "Have another Hershey bar. Compensation."

"No thanks. I couldn't," he said, waving it off.

"Please."

He shrugged and took the proffered chocolate. "Thanks."

"You sure you're all right."

"Positive. Have a happy Halloween," he called as he began to walk to the next house.

Safely out of sight between houses he looked in his candy bag. "Chocolate," Chris grumbled. ''Doesn't anyone ever realize that dogs and chocolate do'' not ''mix?'' He sighed. ''Oh well. It'll be useful trading material.''

He started towards the next house. His tail began to wag again as he saw some kids in costume. He loved Halloween. it was one of the only times he could be himself in public and not be noticed. As the only werewolf to ever come "out of the closet," as it were, he got a lot of people in his face.

Still, the claws sometimes got irritating, as did the looks he got. Being born a werewolf wasn't any easier today than in his grandfather's time, from what he gathered.

He sighed deeply as he shuffled through a leafy lawn. And one more reason to be something else had presented itself. That sorceress was just one of many beautiful women whom he could never date.

If only he'd been born human...

<comments />

{{author endnote|This story was one of my earliest, and was conceived on (of course) Halloween. The miracle is that it was also written on Halloween. It's one of the few stories I've written that was typed up, start to finish, in less than one day. I managed to send this out to the public with about an hour left to the holiday, at least on the pacific coast where I lived. I've always enjoyed little zingers at the end of a story, or twist endings, and this one kind of has both. This is a favorite of mine, short and sweet. I've been told it's a bit too short and vague by some people, but to me it tells you all you need to know, shows you all it needs to show.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Loving Halloween}}

The Fugitive

2007-09-18T07:41:21Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I can hear the helicopter getting closer. Its blades give me plenty of warning, and I'm safely hidden behind a fast food dumpster long before its sleek, featureless black body passes low overhead.

I smile as it turns and is hidden by a building. That is the only celebration I allow. It is, after all, a small victory, like the others I've won tonight. And last night, and for many nights before that.

I slip out with the sound of the chopper still fading. I need to stay on the move, and pick my resting places very carefully. There are people on foot looking for me as well, and if they're in the area a mere dumpster won't escape inspection.

This is a fairly small town, luckily, and it is late. The streets are nearly deserted. From time to time a car approaches more closely than is comfortable, but there are bushes to crouch behind, culverts to dive into, trees to scramble up.

Damn. I should have looked in that dumpster while I was there. Now I have to find another place to find food. There. A house with newspapers piled on the driveway. There's only a few, so the owners haven't been gone long. The food shouldn't be too spoiled. And it might be a good place to spend the night as well.

I prefer to rest in a house. It's more comfortable than most other options. But more importantly, they don't go searching for me there.
Searching door to door would be too invasive. They can't just declare martial law. This is my main advantage.

But they have advantages of their own. I cannot seek shelter from anyone, because they might be one of them, or innocently turn me over to my death. Worse than death. I know what it is they do, transforming the innocents they capture into hideous monsters for their own use.
There's no way I will let them do that to me.

But what ''can'' I do, then? I ponder the question as I eat my third can of ravioli. The only answer I come up with is to keep running.

I angrily throw the half-full can against the wall, spattering tomato sauce all over. Damn it! Why can't they leave me alone? They say I'm a dangerous criminal; there are pictures of me everywhere, even here.
But the only crime I can be honestly accused of is theft. They do this to make someone more likely to turn me in to them. Make me disappear, changed into something unbearable.

The room is suddenly awash in light. The helicopter! Damn, damn damn it! In my preoccupation I didn't notice it as it neared. Now I can hear it thundering directly overhead.

How did they find me? Did I hide imperfectly from a car, or did a neighbor hear the faint tinkle of glass when I broke in? It doesn't matter, they're here now, but still I wonder.

I run from room to room, searching frantically for a place they wouldn't possibly search, and find none. I look for a weapon, and find none more deadly than the knives in the kitchen. No matter, I'll fight tooth and nail if I have to, I won't be taken!

The front door downstairs crashes inwards. I take the knife and hide behind the door. Running won't work with the helicopter to direct the people on the ground. With a bit of luck, I can eliminate them. Then I can worry about evading the chopper.

I can hear their heavy boots on the stairs. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what is to come. Closer... closer... Here they come... now!

{{Separator|stars}}

"They finally got him."

Agent Graham looked up at his partner. "Really? In custody, or just found?"

Agent Brewer grinned. "In custody. Bagged and tagged and on his way here." He frowned. "Took out six men before they got a tranq into him."

Graham's jaw dropped. "''Six?'' But what about their armor?!"

Brewer shook his head. "It was just kevlar, meant to take bullets, not claws. He tore through it pretty easily."

Graham shook with rage. "Damn him!" Heads in the office turned, but he didn't care. "Damn him and the bastard scientists! Who the hell needs a human-tiger cross, anyway?"

Brewer laid a hand on his partner's shoulder. Graham managed to get himself back under control, although the anger still burned in his eyes. "Geneteched supersoldiers are a good moneymaker, even if they are illegal. You know that. But he was the last of this batch."

"Good. I hope they hang the guys who did that to him." Graham paused.
"I wonder why he ran away from the reclamation crews, anyway."

Brewer shrugged. "Some folks just would rather not be human, I guess."

<comments />

{{author endnote|According to my notes, this story came about from a brainstorming session between my good friend Phil Geusz. His muse was running a little dry and I was trying to inspire him with story ideas, and came up with this. He liked it well enough to think it should be written, but not enough to do it himself. He persuaded me to take it on myself. Looking back, he was probably right. This is far from my favorite story. The twist at the end simply isn't big enough to really throw readers for a loop, and the rest of the tale is rather mediocre as well.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Fugitive, The}}

Free

2007-09-18T07:40:53Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

John Maines looked sadly into the room again. The computer, now slightly obsolete, was in one corner, next to a small bookshelf. Both had remained untouched for a year except for his wife's dusting. In the other corner was the ham radio, Zach's main hobby, equally preserved.

Posters of his son's two favorite topics — wildlife and heavy metal
— mixed incongruously on the wall. Zach was a veritable encyclopedia on either subject.

The bed was made, the clothes neatly hung in the closet. Mary had kept the room far cleaner than Zach ever had, a thought that would lift him from his depression whenever it came. Then the inevitable addition
arrived: ''When he was alive.''

His smile immediately disappeared. Zach had been killed a year ago when the steering had failed on the truck he had been driving, causing a nasty crash.

John's grief had been bad enough. The guilt he felt, though, was absolutely terrible. The truck had had sloppy steering for a while, and just before the crash it had gotten pretty bad. If he had taken the damned thing to the shop when Mary had told him to, his son would still be alive.

John blamed himself, and it was eating him from the inside out. He rarely did anything anymore except to go to work and come back. In neither place did he talk much anymore. And what it was doing to his marriage...

"John! John! Come here, quick!"

John immediately ran for the stairs. His wife was not one to rush things. If she said it was urgent, it was.

A few seconds later, he was next to Mary in the family room, looking at a scene he never would have believed if someone had told him of it.
Bowzer, the pet dog, was sitting quietly at the large glass doors, looking out. But it was what he was looking at that was so incredible.

There was a wolf outside.

''Right'' outside. If the door was opened, they could touch it without leaving the house. It was just sitting there, looking at the dog looking at him through a pane of glass.

"Holy crap..." John whispered. They lived in suburbia, not a rural area. There was woods bordering their backyard, but the nearest
''forest'' was nowhere near.

"Bowzer's not barking," Mary pointed out, her voice a whisper as well. "He barks whenever another dog comes within 30 feet of him. But he's not, now."

It took John a moment to realize she was correct. It made the scene feel even more surreal.

The wolf turned his head and looked at the pair of humans. John saw a hint of...something...in its eyes. Then it opened it mouth and began to bark.

The sounds immediately sounded odd to John. He looked at his wife, and saw a worried expression on her face as well. The barking was wrong. ''No, wait. Not wrong. Unnatural.'' And then it clicked.

"Oh my God."

He'd not heard that sequence for a year. Before that, he had heard it often. John raced upstairs, to the room he had left only a minute earlier. He strode quickly to the bookshelf, and looked the titles over as fast as he could. "Whereisit, whereisit, dammit, whereisAHA!" He pulled the book from the shelf and ran back downstairs.

"What is going on?" Mary asked, the entire episode making her nervous.

"Morse code," John said succinctly. He opened the ham radio book to the table of Morse code symbols and quickly checked them. "K2GU was Zach's ID." It checked.

"What are you saying?"

John ignored the question and walked over to the door. Bowzer gave him a quick look and whine, then resumed observing the wolf. The wolf had stopped barking when he approached.

John sat cross-legged next to his dog. "Zach? That you?" Its tail wagged and it opened its mouth in what could only be described as a canine grin.

John couldn't help it. He broke down. "I'm sorry. Oh God I'm so sorry. It was my fault..."

There was another series of barks. John jerked back to life and looked in the book. His tears were still coming, if slower; the task of translating took his mind off his grief and guilt. "No, I'm ''not'' wrong," he said forcefully, looking up from the book. "If I'd taken it into the shop..."

More barking interrupted anything he would added to that. "`Not guilty'," John said out loud when he had translated.

"He always did like Perry Mason," his wife chuckled, wiping her eyes.

John hesitated, then he reached up and pulled the door open. The wolf... Zach... didn't run. John removed his hand from the door and reached out. After a moment, Mary joined him in rubbing their son's fur. After a few seconds of this, it retreated a few steps and resumed the rhythmic barking.

"`Don't worry. Be happy.'," John told his wife as he translated.
Zach nodded his lupine head once. Then he turned and trotted towards the woods.

"Wait!" John cried as he stood and ran a few steps after his son.
He saw Zach stop, hesitate, then turn and walk back to them. "Please.
Don't leave."

Zach tilted his head to the side, the question too obvious to ask.

"I don't want you to leave. If you leave, you'll be..." John swallowed; he had to concentrate to keep from breaking up again.
"...gone."

Zach responded with another series of barks, his longest. Then he licked his father's hand, and trotted off.

"What'd he say?" Mary asked him.

John looked up from the book in his hands in time to see the wolf, at the edge of the woods, look back at him. Then it was gone.

"What'd he say?" Mary repeated, a little more urgently.

John tore his eyes from the spot Zach had entered the woods. He looked at her, really looked, for the first time in a year. He saw the eyes, wet from her own tears. But there was something else. There was a deep concern for him that he had noticed for a year now but never really ''seen'' until now.

"Uh. `Don't grieve. Live. I'm not dead. I'm free.'"

Mary blinked. "Oh," she said, softly.

John pulled her into a close hug. "C'mon. Let's go inside. Let's talk." Mary just nodded. John entered the house with his wife, and closed the door.

And began to heal.

<comments />

{{author endnote|This was one of the earliest stories I wrote. I'm not entirely sure how early, but I ''think'' only ''Trickster's Gold'' came earlier. I'm still happy with this, though it's a bit too sappy for my tastes these days.

K2GU is my father's ham-radio call sign. I'm told they're a lot longer these days, 6 or 8 alphanumerics long or thereabouts. But I didn't want to use some random code and someday have an issue with its real-life owner.

This story was actually published, sort of. Some high-schooler found it and asked permission to publish it in his school's ham-radio club newsletter. I said sure, so long as he made sure to include my name as author. Looking back, that was a pretty stupid condition — if he was good enough to ask for permission, he wasn't going to leave off the author's name. He was supposed to mail me a copy of the newsletter, but he never did, so unfortunately I don't remember who it was who made the request or where the school was.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Animal]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Free}}

Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest

2007-09-18T07:39:10Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

"Hold up, Gary," I murmured softly. "I need to rest again."

His exasperated sigh was audible through both masks, his and mine. "The eyes?"

I nodded, and he guided me to a circular bench that enclosed a palm tree. Sitting was a blessed relief, although thanks to the outfit it was somewhat awkward.

I reminded myself that this costume wasn't a result of just my labor, it was also my concept and design. The idea had been to build costumes based on Robin Hood. He would be a robin, of course, and not a fox like the cartoon. Ultimately he would be accompanied by his band of merry men — most notably Friar Duck and Will a-Scarlet Macaw, along with anyone else I could think up a good avian related pun for. But those others hadn't been finished in time for Kubla Con.

One of Robin's companions ''had'' been finished, though. His lady love, Maid Marian. (She was a horse — ''mare''-ian. I thought it was a great pun, though few others got it without an explanation.)

The problem was, Marian's costume required a renaissance-style dress, and those suckers were heavy and very cumbersome. "Robin" was lucky; even though his sleeves were modified to look like wings, and he had to carry a bow and quiver (modified to be con-safe), the tunic and vest and hat that he wore were nothing compared to a dress, two skirts, a dress, and sleeves — all before adding the mask, gloves and shoes that made her a horse.

And who wore Maid Marian? Me, of course. I didn't presently have a girlfriend, or even know any women as friends well enough to ask them to wear it. Gary's frame was slender enough that he could have passed for female, but he did better as Robin. His small size made him more birdlike, anyway, whereas my frame could certainly be a better fit for a horse. I wasn't fat, mind you, not at all. It was just that I could hardly be called slender like he could, either. The fact that I topped him by a head added to the effect. At any rate, a build like mine might have been good for the horse aspect, but I would never pass as a female. Not without a lot of work. So in addition to all the clothes the public saw, I wore a corset and stuffed bra, along with one of those padded things that bulks out the hips. With all that, and the mask to hide my face, I could pass as a thickset woman.

All of which was a somewhat long way of saying that I was ''hot.'' Being in Orlando, even in November, didn't help much. And the battery powering the fan in the muzzle that kept the air circulating was dying. Moisture was getting blown out of the nostrils slower than I was sweating it into the air, and the plastic eyes had gotten all foggy. It probably looked like my costume had cataracts, and she might as well have. I was about as blind.

For ten minutes we just sat. I tried hard to breathe as little as possible to prevent even more moisture from fogging up the eyes. Eventually I could see more than vague shapes again, and began paying attention to the other costumes. Along with the usual assortment of Klingons, Jedi, and superheroes, some stood out. A few of them were quite good, like the dragon that must have contained at least two men. Others were not so great, like the robot that was clearly assembled in ten minutes from cardboard boxes, spray paint, and a magic marker. And a few were just puzzling. What did a ballerina, a US Marine Captain, or an anthropomorphic white rabbit have to do with science-fiction or fantasy? If the rabbit had been wearing an Elizabethan outfit I could say it was from Caroll, but he was just wearing overalls.

"We're going to be late," Gary complained, though still speaking softly. Although the jaws moved, speaking in these masks was to be avoided. It didn't sound right.

I nodded my reply, but still took my time getting up. The awards ceremony to give out the big prizes — cash, this year! — would be starting any time now, true, but I knew we wouldn't win any of those. I had thought I'd done a good job with what we were wearing, but some of the ones out there were good enough for movies. Besides, we'd already won a prize for "good couple." It was clearly a minor category, and one I've never heard of before at ''any'' con, but I wasn't about to complain. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks.

The main ballroom, where the major awards were to be dispersed, was crowded. All of the chairs within easy reach were occupied, and the walls were jammed with people. Nearly all of them were in costume, though for a sizable number it was just the funny prosthetic animal noses that were being sold in the dealer's room.

A man was ascending the low stage to join a woman in a leafy dryad outfit. He was tall, but beyond that details were impossible to discern because his clothing was a featureless black and he wore a mask. He looked like a very distinguished crow, or maybe raven. He must be the millionaire funding all the prizes, I surmised. I was proved right a moment later when the woman announced, "Eric Winters, everyone!" By then everyone at the con knew that name.

Mr. Winters took the microphone, a cat-person on one side and the dryad on the other. For several seconds he said nothing, waiting for crowd noise to die down a bit. Then he swayed, looking like he was drunk or perhaps suffering from heat exposure.

"What a wimp," I said to myself. Even though he was dressed all in black, my costume had to be a hundred times worse. Although, now that I was thinking about it again, it didn't seem so bad anymore. It was still hot and heavy, but not oppressively so, and my field of view was the best I'd had in hours. Maybe ten times worse, then.

The audience was beginning to murmur nervously. Suddenly several people interspersed throughout the hall screamed almost in unison, and panic took hold of the room.

People and costumes were running everywhere, screaming and bellowing. I laid my ears flat against the cacophony. "What is it? What is happening?" I cried. What caused the panic? I was scared more of the people here than of some danger of which I knew nothing!

"Come, my Lady!" Robin shouted over the din. "This place is unsafe!"

A bright red bar of light flashed nearby, leaving afterimages in my eyes. What looked like a man made of silver was exchanging blows with... "A griffin! My goodness, how didst a griffin get in here? Where art the guards?"

"''Please,'' Marian!"

I looked at Robin. He only called me by name in the most dire of circumstances. I had to admit that this was the most dire I could recall. "Lead on," I ordered.

He took me by the arm and aimed us at the door. Twas a shame he had not brought his sword, for it would have been of great help. Strangely, I couldn't for the life of me remember why he hath left it behind. Surely it would not have called attention to him in ''this'' lot!

For once, my lover was not gentle. Not with me and certainly not with those between us and our exit. We were somewhat aided by the fact that so many others were aimed at the same set of doors, though for some reason Robin was taking us on something of a meandering path which countered that benefit. I was jostled about quite a bit myself by wretches too uncouth or uncaring to properly treat nobility. I had to hike my skirts indecently high to prevent them from being ruined. Something crunched beneath my hooves — a scaly hand, I saw when I looked back. It wasn't moving.

At last Robin pushed aside one final obstacle, a grey-skinned woman whose beautiful dress was ruined by a gaudy overabundance of jewelry. We veered sharply away from the majority of those streaming out of the great hall and ducked inside a smaller room. There was an arrangement of tables on one end, but the rest of the room was occupied by chairs, some in obvious disarray. It was as if an eccentric highborn man had intended fifty people to watch him eat. Most curious.

But there were no people. "This seems safe enough," Robin declared.

"Indeed so."

Whoever's castle this was (I could remember its name — Xanadu — but oddly, not its lord's), was clearly wealthy beyond compare. The chairs were made not of wood, but metal! Such extravagance! Even with the thin layer of padding they looked uncomfortable, however. But those at the long table looked no different, so I took one near the end and sat.

- And immediately snorted in surprise. I jumped to my feet, rubbing my buttocks. Robin's trilling laugh echoed from the walls. "Watch yourself, my love! These seats were not made for tails. Inconsiderate of our host, whosoever that might be, don't you think?" He, too, had taken a chair, but was sitting on it sideways so as not to ruffle his tailfeathers.

I nodded slowly. So he knew not who ruled here either, did he? But there was something strange about his words...

"''A tail?''" I yelped, and turned to look closely at my backside. A part of me cringed at such unladylike behavior. Another was screaming that I had never been a lady! Nor had I ever had hooves, or a muzzle, or a tail. The dress hadn't been tailored for a tail! But now I had all of these, and more. I didn't want to contemplate exactly what more I had; I suspected I'd find out all too soon. "What on Earth didst happen to me?" I stopped there, surprised by how I spoke.

Robin — no, Gary — approached and put his winglike arms around me. "I know thou art distraught, love. Twas a terrible row we just escaped. But you seem unharmed, if a touch disheveled." He smiled, somehow, despite the beak. "Though, verily methinks it only adds to your beauty."

For a few seconds I felt comforted by his words and embrace. My lover had ever been the flatterer! Then I pulled roughly away. Gary had ''certainly'' never been a lover of mine, and Robin hadn't existed ten minutes ago! I shuddered. It was frightening how easy it was to slip into Marian's personality.

Robin looked deeply hurt at my retreat. "Robin -" I stopped. My voice! It was very definitely a woman's, now. There was no chance of pretending to be male even to a blind man. I gathered my nerve and tried again. "Do you know anyone named Gary?" Please...

But he frowned in thought for too long. I knew the answer well before he spoke. "I know none by that name. Wouldst he perchance be a new recruit for my band?"

I shook my head sadly. His name hadn't brought him out of character. Maybe nothing would, but I vowed to try again later. Still, I wondered why he was stuck so firmly as Robin Hood while I was only a part-time Maid Marian. I shook my head again, more firmly. That, too, would have to wait.

"Not some popinjay after your affections, I hope!" Robin exclaimed. "I do so hate competition."

"Thou dost love competition."

"Ah, well. Tis you who knows my heart best." He paused for a moment. "The noise seems much diminished. We should take our leave ere the guards arrive. Tis by God's own grace that they have not already."

It occurred to me that the local sheriff would probably be much more easily countered than the one he was worrying about. At least Nottingham's knew who he was up against. Still, it would not do to be present when the cops arrived. It would be indecent for a woman of my stature to be incarcerated for participating in a common brawl, however uncommonly large.

I grimaced. These personality shifts were going to take some getting used to.

Outside the room, the place had the seeming of a town after flood. Tables that had been covered with some merchant's wares were overturned and broken, his inventory strewn everywhere. The only people to remain were three stormtroopers marching back towards the great hall. We stayed out of their way and their sight until they were past, then headed in the opposite direction, marveling at the wonderful flameless torches and the impossibly clear glass. I had never seen the like!

Our error was quickly made apparent. Twas clearly the direction the great majority of the mob had gone. We could see the throngs outside through more great sheets of that glass. But when we approached closer to see, another marvel revealed itself. As we neared, a portion slid aside of its own accord, revealing itself to be not a window but a door. We both blinked and looked at each other. Then he shrugged and stepped through, leaving me to follow in his wake.

Outside was chaos. But twas the chaos of a tourney, not that of a brawl. Except it missed the festive air. Most of the people looked quite displeased, indeed! Men and creatures were sitting with dejected looks upon their visages. Some were weeping or wandering aimlessly, as if their wits had deserted them.

Strange movement caught my eye: a pair of turning lamps, one burning red, the other blue. The rested on an oddly-shaped box of metal and glass. More were arriving, accompanied by a wail audible for a mile or more. My awe was less than it might have been, however, as I realized they were some sort of vehicle. There were just too many wonders, and my sense of awe was becoming dulled from overuse.

The guards — no, the ''police!'' — were here at last. I glanced at Robin, but while he had seen them arrive he was as yet unaware of their significance. They were already beginning to block off the exits from the parking lot. Within an hour, or maybe half that, none would be able to leave the grounds without their permission.

"The sheriff's men art here," I told Robin.

"Oh?" His head darted about, searching. "Where? I see them not?"

"The cars — the metal boxes with lamps atop them. Those art his."

"Ah... art thou sure, my Lady? Their garb is peculiar."

"A new set of armor doth change not who they be. Tis they, for certain." I hoped Gary would emerge soon. Having to term everything so Robin Hood would understand was an arduous task. And that was when I understood it, myself.

The avian face looked thoughtful. I knew instantly what he had in mind. "Thou art mad if thou thinketh you can force conflict now!"

He trilled, clearly amused. "Against greater numbers, with neither stalwart companions nor plan? Nay, fear not, my love. I dost not be quite so foolish as that!"

I looked at him suspiciously. If he didst not desire a battle, what then? Only one thing came to mind. "Thou art planning a grand jest." Drawing attention to us out of these multitudes was second only to a fight in my estimation of things to be avoided. "We haven't the time! More guards arrive by the moment!" But the gleam in his eye was accompanied now by a stubborn set to his beak. I gulped and tried a different approach, on that I had rather hoped to avoid. I grasped the ends of his wings gently and in the softest, most sincere tone I could muster said, "For me, my... my love?"

For a moment I thought even that might not be enough. Robin Hood was the rogue's rogue. But he was also something of a gentleman. "Since thou dost insist," he said. "Though it doth pain me to leave without tweaking his nose by letting him know who he almost caught in his net." With one backward glance at the police, we left.

Escaping them was simplicity itself. We simply walked out of a side of the parking lot from which there were no sanctioned exits. The police had done little more than block and regulate the ways cars could come and go. By no means was the "net" tight enough yet to catch those without them.

As we walked, Robin turned his head about often to stare at some new wonderment. He said nothing, just taking it all in. And there was so very much to take in! His state made it easy for me to take the lead. And, thanks to how I had somehow not completely become Marian, I even had some idea where to go.

The highway was not far from Xanadu. When it came into view we both stopped and stared. We had thought the cars were going impossibly quick on the local streets, but it was as nothing compared to this!

"What is this place?" Robin said over the din of hundreds of moving cars.

"Tis the highway," I called back. "We needs must ride one of these."

He didn't look precisely scared. Acutely worried, mayhap. "Art thou sure we must? We could always walk."

I nodded. "Twould take days to reach safe haven by hoof." I blinked; that was supposed to be ''by foot.'' "Fret not. These cars dost be harmless if thou dost not stand before them."

"How canst thou be so certain?"

"I am a learned mare."

That mollified him. Together we made our way to the highway. Robin had little trouble with the chain-link fence on its edge; he simply jumped over, aided by a few flaps of his wings. I had somewhat more difficulty. Neither my hooves nor my dress were well suited to climbing. We had to search for some time before finding a tear in the links.

We walked onto the shoulder. I let Robin support me a bit; loose stones unbalanced me whenever they chanced to be beneath my hooves. Then I stuck out a thumb in the traditional manner. It felt a mite peculiar, until I realized I had only three fingers.

One more thing to get used to.

Twice cars slowed and began to drift our way, and twice they regained their incredible speed and passed us by. But a third did not veer off, and stopped a few dozen feet away. It was of the type that looked somewhat like the wagons with which we were both familiar, except the driver's area was enclosed and as always there were no horses to pull it. It also was not in the best of conditions, with rust and dents riddling its body.

The glass window near us was absent. Within was a single occupant, large and bearded. "Need a ride?" he drawled.

"Verily."

"C'mon in, then."

We nodded, then paused. How to enter was not immediately clear. Then Robin scrambled in through the opening.

"I will not crawl inside like that!" I declared, hands on my hips. "Twould be unbecoming!"

"Why don't you use the door then, miss?"

We looked at the man. He was trying hard not to laugh. I could feel my ears redden as I blushed. "Thou dost mock me!"

"Sorry, miss, sorry. I just... never mind. Ya open the door by pulling on that handle there. Yeah, that. Now pull..."

Part of the side swung away, and it was suddenly much easier to get inside. "I thought that was an ornament," I declared as I got in. I had to sit slightly sideways on the padded bench, since, as at Xanadu, he had not thought to accommodate those with tails. Robin had a similar problem, and solved it the same way. It changed the seat from small to truly cramped, but I still managed to close the door — carefully, mindful of my skirts.

The strange wagon started to move. Its speed continued to build until it was the countryside that moved too fast for comfort. By contrast, the nearby wagons were almost still, shifting position slowly. I confess that my hands were clenched tight on the metal door.

"First time ridin' a car, is it?"

Robin nodded stiffly. I noticed he kept his eyes on the man rather than the petrifying view outside. Then I closed my eyes so I didn't have to look at it, either.

"Well, as ya can see it ain't so bad, is it? A little scary at first but ya get used to it quick. By the way, my name's Sam."

"We are honored. I am Robin Hood and this is my Lady love, Marian."

"Uh... right. Good job on those costumes. Damn, they can do anything these days! So where do ya come from, that ya ain't never ridden before?"

"We hail from Sherwood Forest."

A pause. "Right. Well... Oh! Heh, I get it now. ''Robin'' Hood. Clever!" I wondered what was so clever about it. Twas his name, nothing more. "Well, you're pretty far from there, eh?"

"Indeed. Thou didst speak but a moment past of never before meeting people who have ridden in a... car?"

"Yeah, damn near everyone's ridden in these things — unless you're Amish, maybe, and I don't think you are. They just don't wear costumes like yours. Just about everyone owns one, too, except the poor and those damn Amish again."

I didn't have to be watching to see Robin perk up at the mention of the poor. "So tis only rich Lords such as yourself who own these cars, then."

Sam laughed, a deep bass that set my ears to ringing. "I ain't no lord! Just about anyone can buy one if they save up, thank God. Only the really down-and-out can't manage it." His voice shifted, sounding concerned, as he said, "Gonna need a new one myself, pretty soon. This one's in bad shape. Need new everything. Even the radio's busted, which is why I can't play some music for ya."

We rode in silence for a few seconds. I cracked open my eyes, saw a tree zoom past, and immediately shut them again. I spent the time trying to imagine what a radio was and how one might be played.

"Say, where ya goin', anyway? Or are ya just driftin'? If ya are, then I can only bring ya as far as Miami. Not there's a whole lot after that!"

"I dost not think so," Robin said carefully. "Where were we going, Marian? Thou didst have a place in mind, thou claimed."

I did? But after a moment I remembered our destination, and I told it to Sam.

"Well, great! That's just two exits up!" he said cheerfully. "Good thing I asked when I did, eh?"

When I felt the car slow down, I managed to pry my eyes open once more. The scenery still moved much too fast, but I could stand it now. There were fewer buildings than the area near Xanadu, and they were smaller and less garish. Houses. Sam made a few turns, fast and sharp enough to be nauseating, and stopped before one of them.

"Here ya are. I hope y'all have fun at your party. Ya got some damn good costumes."

"Thankee for the kind words, good sir," Robin replied. I bowed my head, acknowledging our benefactor's praise, then opened the door and stepped out.

Our destination was a dwelling that was apparently average, judging by others nearby, but it was in truth as large as a small Lord's hunting retreat. It had but one floor, however, and a large hollow space to one side that took up a great deal of room. It was separated from the indoors by more sheets of flawless glass.

The building was familiar, yet not. I remembered it clearly, and knew it was safe to remain there after leaving Xanadu. But I could not recall what made it safe. Were it not for how we had no other place to go, I might have shied away from this mystery.

My lover had exited and was speaking to Sam. "Thankee for thine help. Take this as a token of my gratitude." From the purse at his hip he withdrew a square-cut ruby perhaps half an inch on each side.

Sam guffawed as he took it in hand. "Thanks, Robin. Ya do the act pretty damn good, there. Too bad it ain't real."

"Tis real enough, I assure thee."

Sam peered at him skeptically. "Perhaps now thou canst buy a new radio," I suggested. He would want an instrument before the long winter months arrive, else the boredom would become acute.

"Ha! If this is real I can buy a new ''car!'' Ha ha! See y'all later, folks. Have a good time." Sam closed the door with a thunk and drove away, still chuckling.

I whirled on my lover. "Where didst thou get those?"

"From the rich, of course!"

"From the guests at Xanadu!" I raged. "Truly thou art mad! Thou stealeth from the guests of our host! Tis a poor way to show gratitude for his hospitality!"

"His hospitality could be better," Robin countered. "Poor seats and a near-battle in the hall, and yet he doth not even deign to show himself! Twas my due, for the inconvenience if for no other reason." I glared at him. He could be so trying at times! "Besides, my sweet, what's done is done. There is no gain in anger now."

I retained my glare for a moment longer, to show I was giving in but did not have to. Then I asked from where he got the gem.

"Twas from that grey lady. Verily, she had more than was good for her soul. I was duty-bound to relieve her of some of her wealth. Half my takings came from her alone!"

''Half?'' "Just how much didst thou steal?"

In response he opened his purse. The small bag was filled with perhaps two score bits of jewelry and loose gems of various sizes and colors. One emerald was near the size of a hen's egg! "My word..." I gasped.

"In all the confusion that abounded, twas simplicity itself to relieve the rich of some of what makes them so haughty."

A girl, mayhap five years of age, was across the street, watching us with wide eyes and open mouth as we argued. I smiled reassuringly at her, and was rewarded with a tentative one in return. I thrust the bag of jewels back at Robin and strode towards the house. "Come. We art attracting attention. This is not the place to show such wealth."

Gaining entry was not quite so simple as opening a door, however, for all we found were locked. But my love had among his many skills those of an accomplished burglar. Twas only a matter of reaching an understanding of these locks.

"There," he said at last as the door from the hollow area opened at last. "After you, my Lady."

I walked into a dwelling that was oddly familiar. Strange furniture filled the room, and the most skillfully done paintings I had seen in my life hung from the walls. Beyond was a room the likes of which I had never seen. In one corner was a large box that quietly hummed and the walls were lined with cabinets filled with plates and goblets filled with glass. Was this the kitchen, then?

Yes, of course it was. I opened the refrigerator and withdrew an apple and a few slices of cheese. I had the feeling it would be wise to avoid the lunch meat. "There is food here, it thou art hungry," I called to Robin.

"Ah, thou art a wonder, my love." Robin nibbled on the base of my neck as he passed — his version of a kiss, it seemed. He paused when he reached the fridge's open door. "Tis cold!"

"Indeed so." There was little else to say.

His face turned thoughtful. "This kingdom in which we find ourselves is rich beyond compare. Beyond dreaming! The Lord who doth maintain this lodge commands such wondrous magics. Twould do much for the poor, methinks."

"Well, mayhap..."

"Mayhap! How could it not be so? Just look at the riches around us!"

"Struth, but... well."

The next few hours were consumed by giving Robin a brief summary of American society. It was somewhat difficult to convince him that most people, even the poor, had refrigerators and flameless lights, and that most of those without them had no place to put them. Unlike the England we remembered, the poor would not starve. Even once he had some idea, however, it did not change the mission he had imposed upon himself to help the poor overcome their hardships.

"Though it may require a change of strategy, perchance," he admitted. I laughed. His persistence was wonderful. It's one of the reasons I love him so dearly.

No, no. I don't. Not love...

In the course of the conversation I did determine one sad fact: Gary was gone. I knew already that he didn't recognize the name; now I knew that his job, his home town, and even his dog were all unfamiliar to him. Perhaps sometime in the future some part of Gary will emerge, but I didst not hold high hopes.

Our discourse was interrupted by the sound of an approaching car. We halted, then moved back into the kitchen. It was out of immediate view of all the doors, so we might have time to determine if the newcomer was friend or foe.

The car stopped in the hollow space. The door from there opened slowly. "Hello? Guys? I know you're here, I saw you in the window..."

As the man entered the kitchen Robin slid in quickly behind him, his belt knife pressed under the man's armpit. "Who art thou?" Robin demanded.

The newcomer was young and thin, and his eyes were wide with fear. "I'm S-Scott. I live here! Don't you remember me, Gary? I let you guys stay here during the con."

I stepped forward. "Our apologies, dear Scott. We didst not know for certain who might pursue us."

Scott stared at me as Robin put his knife away. He looked as if he had been punched. "Shit..."

"Mind your language," Robin said harshly. "A Lady doth be before you!"

"Uh... sorry. You've turned into them, haven't you? Robin Hood and Maid Marian?"

"Those art indeed our names, good sir," Robin told him.

"Of sorts," I amended. Both of them looked at me a touch oddly, but I said nothing more as yet.

With the introductions past, we took a few moments to look each other over. No doubt he wished to see what this curse had wrought on us, and the thought was mutual. It was not difficult to see what had come of Scott. His face had a decidedly feline cast to it, with a small muzzle and ears atop his head framing a mass or orange and black hair. Most interestingly, his eyes had remained entirely human.

"I see thou didst not come away from Xanadu unscathed," I commented.

We moved into the living room as he told us what happened. He hadn't worn a full costume as we had. (Robin cocked his head here, for he didst not recall any costume, but I forestalled any comment with a hand on his wing.) Instead, he had bought a cheap animal nose, held over his own by a band of rubber, and a matching pair of ears. When the curse was cast, his visage became halfway that of a tiger.

"After the riot," Scott told us, "I couldn't find you. For a long while I was sure you were still there, 'cause I was your ride back. By the time I gave up searching, the police had set up a kind of quarantine. The only reason they let me out is because my changes were ''relatively'' minor and I'm a local.

"They art not so minor to mine eyes," Robin said.

"Ah... I did say relatively minor. I mean, just look at you two!"

"What about us?"

Scott didn't quite know what to make of that.

We explained how we made our way here from Xanadu. Beyond that, there was little enough to say. It would never occur to Robin to explain the changes to his mental state, and I was reluctant to clarify the issue to Scott with him present. Our host did attempt some probing questions, which I confess I did a poorer job of answering than I would have anticipated. I could remember a computer, but not how it was used. I knew of television, but only after being reminded of its existence, and had not the slightest of notions about how such a thing could possibly be. But his inquiries were halfhearted at best, as if he feared the answers. It is likely at its end he thought us both equally lost. He seemed discomfited at the conclusion, and it was with a morose air that he announced he would begin work on our evening repast.

I found it interesting that while I found the chicken faintly revolting and had to content myself with the vegetables and a dinner roll, Robin ate it all with little consequence. Still, even such simple fare was tasteful enough to satisfy. But the meal was a somewhat tense affair. Scott was clearly uncomfortable in our presence and ate quickly. He to his bedroom immediately afterwards, pausing only long enough to indicate where we were to sleep.

There wasn't much left to do — that we could do — except prepare for bed. I spent a few minutes explaining to Robin the proper use of a toilet. (He had considered it a basin to wash clothes in, and had been about to resort to using tupperware as a chamberpot — something I doubted Scott would see much humor in.) My own first time using the toilet as a mare was a sensation I would never forget, though twould not do to recount the experience.

That done, I retired to the room Scott had designated as ours. Robin was already there. "What dost thou thinketh of our host?"

"Worried," I replied without a moment's hesitation. "We are not what he expected."

Robin stood before me, looking thoughtful. "What didst he expect, I wonder."

"Who could say?" I could, of course. But how dost one tell a lover — well, a friend — that he is but a figment of a man's imaginings? And how dost one feel when thou art the figment? I knew not the answer to either question.

"He strikes me as morose. But a good man, nevertheless. Merely troubled by the day's events."

"Tis no surprise, surely."

Robin laughed. "Nay, tis not. Twas a very trying day. Very trying." He paused. "Wilst thou be preparing for bed? Or wilst thou be sleeping in all yon finery?"

I honestly hadn't thought about it, but he did have a point. I had no nightgown, and I certainly was not about to sleep in the nude! "My chemise wilst do until we find other garb," I decided.

"Well and good. Thou wilt need assistance with thine dress. With thine permission?"

After a moment's pause I nodded. Donning the dress by myself was by no means an easy feat, and removing it scarcely any easier. Such garb typically requires a handmaiden, but I was under no illusion that I might find one here. Robin could fill the role nicely, however.

His winglike arms and hands were deft as they unknotted the golden silk ribbons that held my bodice closed. He removed the outer dress and folded it neatly over a chair. This he repeated with the underskirt. But when I tried to turn towards the bed, his arms held me, pulled me close. "Thou art a beautiful mare," he whispered.

''Oh, no.'' "I... uh..."

"Truly beautiful," he continued over my stammers. His hands rubbed my sides. "And it has been a long a trying day. Please do permit me to soothe thine fears and comfort thine nerves."

I wouldst welcome some comfort just then, but not in quite that manner! His hands were warm and soothing, yet I stepped back and away. "Thou art forward!" I chided.

My legs struck something and I stumbled. Instantly my love was there, his arms turning my tumble into a graceful seating upon the edge of the bed. "Forward, my life? Yea, perhaps so. But then, I am but a knave, who knows not such manners as those you are privy to. But verily I am an eager student. Speak out, and I wilst halt mine transgressions upon thine person."

''He doth try to seduce me!'' my mind cried. And evidently he was succeeding, for I watched in silence as his hands shifted to cup, then massage my breasts. My body suddenly felt warm, the skin beneath my fur all atingle, and my breathing grew both quicker and deeper. This can not be happening! But my body told me otherwise.

Robin pushed me gently, lowering me back against the sheets. I found myself unable to resist his advances. Unable to ''want'' to resist. His words and ministrations and just the scent of him had quickened my blood. As much as I might fight it, I ''wanted'' him to consummate our love that was deep and oh so true.

The sudden sound of breaking glass shattered the mood. My mate looked understandably displeased, and I fear I emitted a most unladylike whinny of frustrated lust. But then we realized together that this had been no dropped dish. Something of goodly size had made its way inside by means of a window.

Robin fair to leapt away towards his arms. "Stay here whilst I see to this!" he ordered me as he buckled his belt about his waist.

But I was up but a moment later. "Nay. I am coming as well." I didst not bother attempting to don my dress — twould take far too long. But I did pull on the underskirt. A woman must retain ''some'' modesty! Twould not do to run about in one's shift.

The crashing sounds of struggle were audible through the walls as Robin searched frantically for his sword before remembering he had not brought one. He cursed softly and with a single smooth movement strung his bow. "You must. I wouldst not have thee hurt in a fray!"

I strapped my purse about my waist. Twould possibly be more a hindrance than a help in any fray, but twas full of coinage and I was loath to leave it unguarded. "Then I will just have to stay out of harm's way," I said haughtily. "But I wilst be ''damned'' if I will merely sit in this room with hands folded, awaiting word of your success or failure!"

Robin waggled a finger at me. "Such words so not become a Lady!" But he was smiling.

The shouts could no longer be ignored. "Go, then!"

It was back in the room we had first entered that the commotion was. The large sheets of glass were broken, shards scattered all about. The couch upon which Robin and I had sat as we and Scott exchanged tales was broken as well, each half in a different corner of the room.

In its center was a sight fit to put ice in my stomach. Scott stood upright, but suspended a foot or more in the air by sheets of a green-tinged lightning. It traveled over and around his body again and again, but there was no thunder, only a sizzle like frying meat. Scott's hair was on end, some of it beginning to scorch, and his face was a rictus of pain.

Standing before their host was an apparition out of nightmare. It was as if sleek red robes and enough gold to buy an earl's estate had been bestowed upon a corpse, who in turn decided not to let it go to waste mouldering away in a grave. Its skin was mottled with rot and oozing sores, and its fingernails were long and yellow. When it spoke its voice was harsh and raspy. "This is your last chance," it cooed horribly, and I shuddered. Each word felt like maggots were crawling through mine hair. "Your very, very, very last chance. Are you quite certain you won't tell?"

"Never! Heard! Of it!" Sean gasped out in spurts.

"That's too bad," the thing said, its tone still a parody of sweetness. "Now I'll have to tear this place apart. Starting with you."

Robin had had enough. He nocked an arrow and cried, "Hold, varlet! Lest I put a clothyard shaft through thine heart!"

The corpse turned without haste. Then its eyes — blind and milky white, but somehow still seeing — widened in recognition. "You!"

"Yea, tis I, Robin Hood! Now release him!"

The thing looked startled at first. Then it did the unthinkable: it turned up its head and laughed. Long and hard, chest heaving with genuine humor. "Of ''course'' you are! I should have guessed!" With a casual flick of his wrist the lightning vanished, and Scott was sent flying like so much refuse. He hit a wall and tumbled down in a smoking heap, unmoving.

Robin's face clouded. His feathers were quite literally ruffled. My love didst never much enjoy being himself the object of ridicule. His shot was his revenge. At this distance, mere paces away, he could scarcely miss, and I heard the air whistle with the force of its passage as it flew true. The corpse-thing staggered with the impact.

But it did not fall. It reached to the arrow piercing its chest — exactly where the heart was — and yanked the shaft out. It did not flinch as the flesh tore, gobbets spattering on the floor. It threw it away with an ugly chuckle. "Excellent shot, 'Robin.' But you'll find me harder to kill than that."

I cried out in sudden fear as it pointed at us. We dove away in different directions, somehow knowing that this was no harmless gesture, but Robin was struck by an identical curtain of lightning to that which had ensnared our host. From just inside the doorway I watched as he was pulled upright to float where Scott had. "Now. Where is my Aelpa?"

"I know not."

Its face twisted in absolute rage. "You of all people must know! You took it from me! You!" The lightning increased, the sizzling growing until I thought myself deafened. Robin jerked spasmodically in the things power. After long, long seconds of this it softened enough that he could speak.

And still he resisted, as I knew he would. "I know not what this 'Aelpa' is," he stated as nobly as he could manage under the circumstances. "And I fail to remember taking anything at all from one as ugly as thineself. But if I had, twould be mine by right! If thou canst not prevent thine possessions from going astray then thou hast none to blame but thine own self."

Unsurprisingly, our assailant disliked such an answer. A quick motion and the lightning renewed itself once more. My Robin screamed and flailed about, but the evil creature showed no mercy. For most of a minute I helplessly watched my be tortured.

Finally the display somewhat abated. The corpse stepped in close, until its face was bare inches from my lover's beak. "Now listen, birdy," it said softly, the voice still horrible to hear. "I didn't expect to become a Kestagian Mage at Xanadu, but there's no way in Hell that I will pass this opportunity up. So I'm going to give you one last chance, much like I gave your friend." It gestured vaguely to where Scott still lay. "Where is my Aelpa?"

Robin's reply was terse. "Fuck off and die!"

Its face clouded. "You know, birds and glass have a rather nasty relationship. Did you know that?" My love abruptly went sailing across the room to crash into the lone remaining pane of plate glass. And enormous thud was clearly audible just before the pane shattered and he continued through it.

"Robin!" I screamed, and ran to follow my love regardless of the danger. But danger did not disregard me. Before I had made half a dozen strides I felt a burning across my entire body, and I felt myself lifted in the room's center to hang like a butchered goose on display.

"Perhaps you'll be more co-operative," the nightmare before me rasped.

I tried to shrink away. If its voice was belike to maggots in mine hair when it was merely overheard, it felt like worms in mine skull when it was directed at me. I fear that voice still, and can hear it yet in my mind.

"I know not!" I cried immediately, since I knew what question he meant to ask. Beyond the glass I couldst see nothing but blackness, for Robin had been thrust too far and the night had swallowed him. "Let me go! I canst not give you that which you ask! We know not what it is!" I didst not bother to hide my fear. Not fear of death, for that wouldst only allow me to join Robin in his, hopefully to meet in Heaven (no doubt after a suitable length in Purgatory, in his case). Nay, I must confess that I feared the pain to come, for I was no warrior or hero to resist such torments as I had already witnessed. "Kill me or let me go, but wither way do it and be done! I canst tell thee nothing of worth."

I dost not know which path it planned to choose — though of a certain I have my suspicions! But before he could do either there arose behind him Scott, his hair still asmoulder. He swung a great piece of wood I recognized as part of the broken couch, swung and connected with the thing's head. There was a great crack, and I thought for certain that its head was stove in, for the lightning that surrounded me vanished and I dropped bonelessly to the floor. I scrambled frantically away, sure that the corpse would fall, now a corpse in truth. But it didst not. It only turned, anger written plainly on its visage. Scott's lips peeled back in a feline snarl that wouldst surely have been fearsome, but for the greater horror before me. He swung his makeshift club again at the mage's head.

It never struck. The creature uttered something and flung his hand outwards, and the wood crashed to the floor from thumbless paws. Paws that were in turn attached to a tiger, rather than a tiger-man. The mage realized the error just as the beast leapt for its throat, and twas merely a cub that smacked against the thing's chest. It staggered from the hit, but the cub fair to bounced off to sit on the floor, shaking its head to clear it.

"Dammit!" it cried out in Scott's voice. "I thought I was safe from all this transformation shit!"

The entire room grew still for a moment. Twas a strange thing indeed to hear such words come from a tiger, and a cub at that! We all looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, and he himself seemed stunned. Then the corpse drew back its leg for a mighty kick. Scott saw, and scampered away.

The thing snorted, and I know not whether twas in frustration or satisfaction or mayhap even humor. Then it returned its attentions once more to me, and its visage was truly terrible to behold. It stepped forward as if this time to beat me to death instead of torturing me with its magics.

Yet again twas interrupted. A loud mechanical roaring came from outside. As one we turned to look beyond the broken panes. And twas an incredible sight! Twas Scott's own car speeding towards us, Robin my love behind the wheel!

Once more I scrambled hastily to win clear of a danger bearing down upon me. But he steered it away and directly into the evil mage, who in his startlement had not the thought to cast some spell that might save him. Robin drove the car into and over it, actually rolling over it with one of the tires.

"Marian!" he called through the window. "Make haste! Get in!"

I didst not argue. Already I couldst see stirrings beneath the car — even a blow as great as this couldst not kill it! I hurried into the vehicle, sitting sideways again, and Robin scarcely waited for me to close the door before shifting the lever attached to the wheel before his chest. We sped off, backwards, with a bump that hurt mine tail as we ran over our assailant a second time, and another, greater one as we left the building to the outside. The he shifted again, and we were moving forward at a goodly clip away from the damaged house.

"Art thou all right? Thou art not injured?" he asked once we were on our way.

"Nay. I am fine, although mine nerves art shattered beyond doubt. What of thee?"

"Struth, I am surprisingly uninjured, with the sole exception of a truly monstrous headache. But my bow was broken by the fall, I fear, and most of mine arrows lost."

"I've no doubt you can find another. I myself lost mine only dress!"

Robin's laugher lightened mine heart. "And that too can be replaced without difficulty, I'm sure. But where is our host? I am loath to leave him in yon mage's clutches, yet I saw him not when I drove in."

"Of that I know not, I fear. He hast become a mere cub, thanks to foul magic, and afterwards ran off."

For a few moments the car was silent save for its running. Then he said, "He shalt have to make do on his own, then. We canst not risk a search."

I nodded mine agreement but remained silent. A thought more pressing came to mind. "Robin, my love... How canst it be thy knoweth how to use one of these cars? For I know of a certainty I couldst not."

"Ha! Tis because thy kept thine eyes closed for the previous journey! But I watched how friend Sam managed it, and so was able to do it myself when the need arose."

The answer made sense on the surface of it, but the more I pondered the less satisfying it became. He drove far too skillfully to have learned merely by watching, and never once had Sam touched the gearshift. So how, then, didst Robin know its use?

The only thing I couldst think of was that perhaps, despite all earlier tests by Scott and mineself, some part of Gary didst survive. Twas a notion supported by his last words to the mage: "Fuck off and die." Twas scarcely a phrase Robin Hood might speak.

"Gary?" I asked softly, tentatively. But the bird beside me didst not respond. "Robin?"

"Yes, love?"

"Thankee for returning."

He leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek — quite literally. "What else couldst I do? Twas my Lady in the hands of that villain! So once more I rode in to rescue ye, the fine damsel in distress. Though tis a strange steed I rode in on!"

I blew him a raspberry. My mouth was well suited to them now, it seemed.

So. If twas a touch a Gary that hath emerged, twas only a touch. I shouldst have to wait and see what became of it, if anything at all did.

For some unknowable length of time I watched the lights of the city outside as we passed them by. For this time I felt no need to close mine eyes in fear of the remarkable speed. Perhaps the semidarkness quelled such worries. Or mayhap twas something else...

I had noticed an odd thing, now that the tumult was past. I still loved my Robin, and indeed found the thought of living without him painful to contemplate. Yet I couldst also recall being horrified to find myself in his embrace. Indeed, I couldst still remember all of my life ere Xanadu, and whilst it doth seem a strange life I knew it to be the true one I hath lived to that day. But I still most certainly was Maid Marian, ward of King Richard and future wife of the rogue, Robin Hood. It occurred to me that mine two selves somehow merged, melting together into a whole greater than the parts. It made the world new, yet familiar, as if I had by chance met a friend not seen in years. I thought it likely now that whilst I might still be surprised and awed by the things to be found on our future journeys, I wouldst never be shocked by them — no moreso, at least, than any other mortal wouldst be.

"Dost thou have a destination?" I asked at last.

"Nay, unless thou hast one to suggest. But my only thought hast been to put as much road between us and that thing as I am able ere we rest."

"Aim north, then." I got as comfortable as I was able, given the awful seat, and prepared myself for a long ride.

A strange sputtering jerked me awake from a sleep I hadn't realized I had begun. But I found myself curled against my mate, and straightened as the car began to move in fits and starts. "What's happening?" I asked sleepily.

"I know not. The car just started acting strangely. Forgive me for letting it wake thee."

"Of course thou art forgiven, love." I ran my fingers' hooflets through his plumage as I considered. "Steer it over to the side before another car hits us. How long hath I slept?"

Robin dutifully pulled to the shoulder just as the car gave one last gasp and died. "Merely an hour, perhaps more."

Verily it felt like it. Mine head was foggy and slow. It was a testament to how badly the day had worn on me that it was only after we had come to a complete halt that I thought to inquire regarding its fuel. To which Robin replied, "Fuel?"

This explained much.

"I had best explain as we walk," I told him.

Robin cocked his head. "Why not here? Tis as good a place as any to rest the night."

"Methinks thou still doth not realize how this land works, my love. Nay, do not be offended! I mean no slight! But this country, whilst strange to us both — and us both strange to it, ha! — doth be somehow less strange to me. I tell you of a certainty that shouldst we remain with the car here overlong that we will be found. If not that 'Kestagian Mage,' then by the sheriff or his men!"

Robin agitatedly ruffled is feathers. "Lawks! Doth he be everywhere?"

"In a way... come, love, let us not tarry. We canst still use our feet and hooves, each in turn, and mayhap find an inn. And along the way I canst tell thee a touch more about America, and a wonderful, terrible device called a gun."

The walk was not long in distance, but we took it slowly. Robin surprised me by accepting, in abstract at least, the police as a force for common good instead of a tool to oppress the masses. "There are good and evil men on this Earth," he said, "and just as some of the evil wilst gain power, so too wilst some good." He didst agree, then, the he would refrain from attempting to slay officers on sight in a kind of proactive self-defense. I felt this was likely to be the best I wouldst get from him, for the moment, and moved on.

Of the concept of guns he was much more skeptical. That someone couldst build something belike to a crossbow that shoots only the arrow's head at a speed capable of knocking a grown man off his feet, and still have the device fit inside his purse — twas ridiculous! Rifles he couldst believe in, if barely, but for all else he thought me to be jumping at shadows, and declared he wouldst need to see them ere he grew wary.

By then we had exited the highway and were walking city streets. I didst my best to ignore the rude stares of those passing us by in cars. Twas not easy, for I felt nearly naked, walking about in little more than my shift. Luckily, there was a refuge of sorts not far from the highway, a bright sign proclaiming "Denny's" for all to see. "That looks not like an inn," Robin commented when I headed for the entrance.

"True enow," I replied. "But tis likely they can direct us to one, and give us refreshment in the bargain."

"Refreshment! Thou art hungry again so soon?"

"Thou dost know horses," I said gaily at the door. "Always grazing!"

Inside, twas bright and cheery, though the odors that assaulted my muzzle were nothing I'd ever enjoy. The hostess at the counter looked up from her book with a smile that quickly faded as she beheld us. "Not more of them!" Twas clearly meant to be a mutter, but mine ears heard her clearly.

"Good eve, dear lady," Robin said charmingly. Either he hadn't heard her comment or he was ignoring it. "We wouldst enjoy a meal here, if thou canst offer one. And if ye perchance hath directions to an inn then we wouldst be much obliged to thee."

The young woman's face was blank for a few seconds as she puzzled through the speech. "There's a motel maybe four blocks that way," she said at last, pointing hopefully. "It's a Best Western, you can't miss it."

"Doth this 'Best Western' be an inn, then? I am unfamiliar with motels."

"Uh... yeah."

"Excellent! We shalt eat and be on our way, then."

The woman didst not bother hiding her grimace. She led us to a nearly deserted corner of the restaurant before removing herself. The only other patrons in the area were a deer and a white rabbit quietly sharing a table. They perked up noticeably when they spied our entry. With only the quickest of glances at each other they both waved for us to join them.

Robin smiled and strode immediately to their side. I was a touch more reluctant to dine with complete strangers, e'en ones that couldst well have sprung direct from Sherwood Forest itself. But the decision had been made, and I joined my love at their table.

We all took a few moments to check each other out. The rabbit was pure white and about the size of a child. His bright blue eyes stared at me inquisitively, and his hands looked oddly deformed, though I couldst not see them clearly enough to determine how. He wore no clothing. His companion, the deer, was man-sized, with an enormous ten-pointed set of antlers atop his brow that must make dwellings feel cramped. His ears were in constant motion, turning towards the slightest sound. I noticed that his hands were not unlike mine, with four digits bestowed with tiny hooflets on their ends. At first it seemed he, too, was unclothed, but after a moment I noticed he wore a pair of short brown pants that almost perfectly blended with his fur. The cream-colored fur on his chest, however, was uncovered.

"Hey there," said the deer in a soft voice by way of greeting, as I sat down slowly, mindful of my tail.

"Ah... hey," Robin returned uncertainly. I merely nodded my head to them.

"Hiya," the rabbit said. "I'm Phil, and this here's Jon."

"''Buck,''" his companion corrected him. "Given how things are, I might as well get used to that name."

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Good eve. I am Robin Hood, and this is Maid Marian."

The table was engulfed in silence. Finally Buck said, "Well, ''somebody'' had a sense of humor."

The waitress arrived then, a large woman who approached cautiously and stood an extra pace away from the table as we ordered food. Phil and Buck already had theirs before them, large salads each, and I asked one for myself. On the woman's recommendation Robin decided to try the french toast. "Tis just like the French scoundrels to claim the dish for their own, I daresay," he told her.

After she left, Phil enthused, "Sure is nice to see others affected by Xanadu's curse."

"Curse?" Robin asked.

"And why is that?" I said at the same time.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before. Everyone's afraid of us. Think we'll show some inhuman ability or instinct or power and ruin the place. Or maybe just infect them."

Buck added, "I hear there's honest-to-God werewolves roaming Florida, now." His eyes darted about briefly as if he expected one to appear.

Phil nodded. "Yeah, that sort of thing. So they shove us in this corner so we're out of the way, even though we're not like that. Even if we were, though, I for one sure don't see what people wouldn't want to become wererabbits!" He wiggled his long ears humorously for emphasis.

Robin trilled, and I giggled girlishly at his antics. "I didst think twas for privacy," I said.

"Yep. Theirs," the rabbit said. "They don't know how to deal with us, so they keep us out of sight and hope we'll go away. This place might not even have seated us if they didn't have a twenty-four-year-old managing it. Even I was able to intimidate him, and I'm a bunny!"

At this we all laughed. When it died away, Buck asked, "Do you know anything, then, about what the heck happened at Xanadu?"

I shook my head no. Robin said, "Only that there was a great riot. Dost thou have news to tell?"

Now twas Phil's turn to shake his head. "We just know what everyone else knows: everyone who was wearing a costume turned into what they went as. Complete with all the powers and abilities that go with it — I saw two superheroes just fly off, and I bet you can shoot an arrow like nobody else, Robin."

We both nodded thoughtfully. "Doth this be the curse that thou mentioned, then?" my mate asked.

"Tis. I mean, it is."

"And some people didst lose all sense of who they art," I said, trying hard not to look at the bird at my side. Phil blinked once, clearly surprised. Twas only then that I realized that he, like Scott, hath believed 'til then that my old knowledge was gone, and that we both entirely thought of ourselves as Robin Hood and Maid Marian. I suppose tis understandable, with our speech, to assume tis that way for us both. Such preconceptions might even come in useful, shouldst our enemy fall victim to them.

"Well, yeah," Phil managed after a few seconds. "I heard on the radio that how bad it is seems to depend on how well-defined the costume was as a character, and maybe how well it was played."

That made a great deal of sense. Robin Hood hath a great deal to build on, from films and books and lore. An archer unsurpassed and good with sword as well, he was witty, clever, friend to the oppressed and enemy of oppressors and lover to Maid Marian. Tis inevitable that a man taking that role at Xanadu wouldst entirely lose his old self.

And what of Maid Marian? Mine only thoughts to her character when I built the costume were that she wouldst be noble-born and in love with Robin, supporting him as best she were able. Such a relatively sparse description couldst well be why I had so much of mine old self left, even if twere more as just memories and less as thoughts and deeds.

"That's likely why you speak so... well, wrong," Buck said thoughtfully.

I looked at him hard. "Wrong? Tis Olde English, is all!"

But he shook his head. "Not really. I'm no history major — well, okay, I am, but it's for the wrong era to know what real Olde English is. But I know what you're speaking isn't it."

"Most likely," Phil chimed in, "you're speaking how the pre-curse you thought Olde English sounded. It's just another aspect of the mental change. It's not proper speech because you didn't truly think of your character speaking properly."

I considered. "That makes sense enough, I suppose. And what of you both? It doth not seem to have turned out too poorly for you."

Buck snorted in amusement, letting out a deerlike bleat. "That's only because you met us in a quiet, unpopulated area. Put either of us in a noisy crowd and I swear we'd have nervous breakdowns inside twenty minutes. Though I suppose if you meant physically we could have come out of it worse."

"Speak for yourself," Phil grumbled. "At least you have ''hands.'' All I have are these things." He held up his hands, and I couldst see them clearly for the first time. For they were not hands in truth but paws, if a bit more mobile that those on a real rabbit. His fingers hath all been drastically shortened, and the even coating of white fur made them seem to be covered by slick mittens. His fork was wedged between two fingers, mayhap the only way he couldst hold it. "It's going to be nearly impossible to do anything, now."

"It's your own fault for making the gloves like that," Buck pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. But what's fun for a few hours isn't always all that great when you have to live with it for the rest of your life."

I couldst certainly agree with him, there!

Robin spoke now, the first utterance in some while. "My Lady, I hath been considering. Much now makes sense that little didst ere this. But I dost thinketh we art bespelled."

I doth not be certain what mine expression was on hearing those words. Wide-eyed? Open-mouthed? But tis certain that I was shocked to the core. I hath all this day been wondering at the manner to best tell him that truth, and then he doth realize it for himself!

"I understand, now, why you called me by an untrue name. Yea, and friend Scott as well. The strange questions thou both put to me... Didst thou thinketh I wouldst forget? But now tis a weight off my mind, for I see at last the method behind thine seeming madness."

"Thou art not upset?" I asked warily. "That I didst not tell thee? Nor that you are not..."

"Myself? Nay, I am still mine own self!" His laugh echoed throughout the room. "What I was before matters little. And whether I be a day old or a century, I am still Robin Hood!"

The twas much as he had described, a great weight gone from mine mind. Twas wrong of me, not to have faith in my lover. Twould be much unlike my Robin to become morose at misfortune — especially when tis not his misfortune.

"You remember your old self now?" Phil asked.

"Not a whit!" Robin said cheerfully. "And whilst some shalt surely mourn the passing of friend Gary, I shalt miss him not at all."

Buck's ears twitched. "Yet you remember your old name."

"Tis only because others hath mentioned it to me." Robin waved his wing dismissively before turning abruptly to me. "But come, my dear Lady. Thou art at an advantage, I now realize. For thou knoweth mine previous name, and I reckon some of mine previous life as well. Yet I know naught of thine."

I squirmed uncomfortably. I couldst not bear the thought of his knowing that I was male only yesterday. Though judging by his reactions of a moment ago he couldst well just shrug off the news, twould be ''me'' who still must tell it — and before near-strangers, yet! I couldst feel myself blushing beneath my fur, mine ears growing pink at the very thought.

"Though I still retain many memories of myself ere Xanadu," I began, carefully choosing mine words, "methinks twould be best if thou simply calleth me Marian. For that is whose body I clearly wear now, and tis by that name that I think of myself."

"Aah, a secret, is it?" Robin crowed. "Well, tis mine calling to pry out secrets. I shalt make guesses, then. Let me see... a beauty like thine own wouldst have a beautiful name. Marian doth be the most beautiful, of course, but there are others. Gwennyth? Meridith?"

Mine ears positively glowed now, as I realized that he wouldst guess all women's names. That he wouldst never guess rightly wouldst save me from some embarrassment, but only at the cost of embarrassment of a different sort — a lonelier sort, for if no other felt either side of it then I must perforce be the only one who felt both sides at once.

Twas then that our food arrived at last, saving me from enduring more of Robin's guesswork. For a time conversation ceased as we enjoyed our meals. The food was not the freshest I've had, but twas tasty enough. Robin was quite pleased with his own, proclaiming that the French hath for once done something better than any Englishman ever had. Our friends had little left on their plates by then, but they took the opportunity to eat what was there. Phil had trouble with his fork, to no-one's surprise, and punctuated each time it slipped his grasp with mutters that we were all too polite to call him on for content.

"It's a good thing we're all herbivores here," Buck said. "I'm not sure what my reaction would be to eating with a wolf or a lion or something across the table. Too afraid of being the meal, I think."

"Be not hasty with thy judgments," Robin advised around a beakful of bread. "We didst stay briefly with a friend at his house, and he hath become part tiger. Yet we didst not fear for our feathers."

"I daresay that wouldst depend on the person," I pointed out. "Some may well try to eat such as me and thee. Each shalt need to be approached cautiously until we doth be sure of their minds."

"Struth."

"Why didn't you stay with your friend?" Phil asked. "I'm sure staying there would be safer, at least for the next few days until things settle down."

"Or stabilize, anyway," Buck said.

"We were chased from his home. Though not by him!" I added hastily at the looks upon their faces.

At that Robin didst launch into a telling of our escape from Xanadu, the ride to Scott's house, and the battle with the Kestagian Mage. This last came complete with pantomimed throws and shakes at the appropriate times. My mate didst tell the tale ten times better, and with a hundred times the verve, than surely I wouldst have.

"Are you sure he said he was a ''Kestagian'' Mage?" Buck asked, leaning forward.

"So he claimeth."

"Doth this be important?" I asked. "Hath thee dealings with such ere now?"

"Not as such, no. There were no such things before today, remember." Robin and I both nodded understanding — though it seemed even I needed reminding now and again. "But I do know of them. I was an avid gamer before this all happened, after all. Still am, I guess."

I nodded thoughtfully, seeing where this was headed. But Robin cocked his head, puzzled. "What sorts of games didst thou play? And what hath this to do with our adversary?"

"Role-playing games," Buck said. "People generally sit around a table and play characters on a quest, and a lot of actions, like trying to hit someone with a sword, are determined by dice rolled and used against the statistics of the wielder and the target. It's pretty complicated, and fairly irrelevant except for one thing.

"You see, these things come with tons of pre-made monsters to fight against at the gamemaster's choosing. And I remember seeing a listing for a 'Kestagian Mage' in one of the books."

Now this was news! "You know, then, what they art! And how to defeat them!" I exclaimed, clapping mine hands merrily.

"No. They're monsters for ''Traps and Treasures''. It's a D&D competitor, but it's not very good. The formulas are badly flawed, making most things either too underpowered to be useful or so overpowered as to be ridiculous. I've stayed away from playing it. But I was browsing through one of its rulebooks some months back, and I remember seeing an entry for 'Kestagian Mage.'"

"Dost thou remember ''anything'' about them?" Robin pressed. "Any knowledge you giveth wouldst be more than we have now."

The deer thought for a few moments. "Well, they're undead, for one thing, D&D's equivalent of a lich. So fire might do some damage, though I doubt it'd kill one. I remember that they had different powers and weaknesses than liches, too, but not what they are."

So. We didst know a bit more, then, of the one that pursueth us. Mayhap we had a weapon, mayhap not. But knowing it didst come from a game told me how best to proceed. On the morrow, however. Twas far too late now.

"Thankee for thine help," I said to them.

"No problem," Buck replied dismissively. "I didn't help all that much, after all."

"Nay, thou has aided us greatly," said Robin, "and provided fine company besides. Truly doth I call thee friends."

"Well, thanks. Ah, here's the check," Phil said, and paused. "Um, do you have the money to pay for this?"

"Of course," I said, and took a few silver pennies from mine purse. "This, methinks, shouldst suffice for such a meal as that."

"And a bit more, I'd say," Phil said slowly, eyeing the coins. "But most places don't take silver. That is real silver, right?"

"Of course."

"Right. I think I'd better pay for this one."

It hurt mightily to have our meals bought for us as if we were paupers. Still, I didst understand the need, though I didst give him the coins in exchange. In turn, he didst allow us to sleep in his trailer for the night, rather than seeking out an inn. Twas a grand gesture, as he wouldst of a certainty have been caught up in things had the evil mage tracked us down once more. Thus I didst give him a full gold shilling, for I judged the risk didst not be small.

His trailer was in the parking lot, the size of a small peasant's hut. Twas towed by a car much like Sam's, but newer. "Buck and I got together at my place in Tennessee a week ago," Phil explained, "and drove down here for the con. Now I hope to get far enough north that we'll be out of any large-scale quarantine that the feds might try to set up."

Twas a bit cramped inside at first, for it had only been built to sleep two. Phil graciously gave us the beds, taking the car's seat for himself since he was so much smaller. Buck was relegated to a handful of blankets in its cargo bed.

The next morning we ate at Denny's once more, for if the staff was less than congenial at least we were assured service. We didst not desire wasting time in searching about for a place that might do us better. The only difference from our orders of last night was that I joined my mate in having french toast. Horses eat grains, I reasoned, and breads art grains. Thus I thought the choice safe, and was indeed proved right. Twas a nice change from greens.

After we broke our fast we gathered at Phil's car to journey. In truth Robin and I rode in the trailer. We drove but a short distance before halting briefly, and then we were off once more. But again the trip was short, at least as measured in time, before we stopped. This time Phil and Buck entered the trailer with us.

"Well, here I think we part ways," Phil said. "You told us you needed to find a few things, so I'll let you off here. And until you get some of those coins exchanged for cash... well, this should tide you over for a few days." He pressed a handful of bills into Robin's wing.

"My thanks to ye, good sir," Robin said, and bowed. "Ye hath been the very essence of hospitality. But this is overmuch! Tis we who give out money to those in need!"

They laughed. "True enough," Phil said, and Buck nodded his agreement. "But Lady Marian, here, already gave me more in gold and silver than I just gave you. Keep that in mind, by the way; a few of these coins should last you a week or more. Don't waste 'em on trivial crap."

"Language, good sir! There doth be a Lady present."

"Ah. Yes. And to her I offer my apologies."

"Fret not. I hath no doubts that I shalt hear far worse in my life," I said. Then, "But why dost thou leaveth us? Art thou so eager to part ways?"

Buck shook his head emphatically. "No, it's got nothing to do with you, except maybe indirectly. As he said, you need a few things, so we're dropping you off here. But there's no way we're going in. Way, way too many people."

"I also still want to get ahead of any quarantine," Phil added, ears twitching anxiously. "I didn't hear of any on the radio — except for the convention center itself, that is — and it'd be kind of late to set one up now, but who knows? Nobody ever said the feds were smart."

When we stepped outside, we didst find ourselves in a truly enormous field of cars, set before a windowless building the size of a palace. I giggled. "Verily this doth be the perfect place to set us," I told them. "We shalt find all we need here." We said our fare-thee-wells and watched them drive off, and then made our way to the entrance of the mall.

Inside was a wonder, though moreso to Robin than mine own self. He stood a while gaping at the marvelous place even as people gaped at us. "Gawk later, love," I told him. "We shalt have time after our chores are over. How much money didst friend Phil give unto us?"

"This much," he said, handing over the bundle of folded paper.

All told, twas a full thousand dollars between mine hooflets. I wondered briefly if the rabbit had truly given us less than he gained, but I had been not exact regarding exchange rates e'en before this change, and with Marian's knowledge and memories blurring mine own twas impossible to say. Besides, they hath already gone, so twas little use worrying over the fairness of the exchange.

Still, I knew that this was no small sum. Twould surely tide us over for a week or two, or even three were we careful. I placed it all in my purse; Robin was a good man, and a wonder for gaining cash, but generally helpless when it came to holding onto it.

I still was displeased at the loss of my dress and having to walk about, I felt, barely clothed. Thus our first chores was to find me a new dress. And chore it was. The propetiers were little help. Those that didn't shy away from our approach couldst only show what they had, and what they had wouldst show more fur than cloth, as often as not. Not that Robin wouldst mind me trying one of them!

After a long search I relented, and tried one of the garments. The woman aiding me seemed to think it too dowdy, but at least it covered a decent amount of flesh. Much to my surprise — and Robin's, and most notably the merchant's! — upon fastening the last button the cloth seemed to melt and run along mine body. Its color changed from a brown that matched my fur to a light blue, with frills and lace. I couldst feel another layer of skirts unfurling about my legs, until in the end I wore a gown fitting for one of my station and a beautiful style that I much enjoyed.

A few trials proved that anything I wore wouldst behave in this way, though each dress changed in a different manner. Though Robin was sore disappointed at the loss of seeing me in modern garb, I was well pleased, for I thus wouldst not require custom tailoring in order to own suitable clothes. And since the dresses reverted upon removal, they were much simpler to store and lighter to carry.

The next task was to find Robin a new bow. After a few inquiries we found there was a good-sized sporting goods store in the mall. And amongst all the various balls and shirts and jackets was a wall full of equipment for hunting. Decoys, scents, camouflage, bullets and bows. Verily, quite a few bows.

"Hath thee any guns?" Robin asked the young lad behind the counter.

"Um... uh, no. No," he stammered. The boy looked like he hath been struck on the head, the way he looked at us was so peculiar. "We got ammo, but the chain won't let us sell the actual weapons inside a mall." He scratched his head in thought, looking so comically puzzled that I couldst not restrain the giggles that escaped mine lips. "What do you want with a gun, anyway? Robin Hood used... whatchamacallem... arrows."

"Indeed so! But... ah, well. Another time, perchance." Robin shrugged. "Since I am an archer, I doth require a bow. Bring out your finest, so that I might try a wing on it."

"Uh... wing. Right." In short order the lad — his name, according to the tag on his breast, was Howard, and he fit the name — set down two bows on the counter before us. One was of the familiar double-curved sort, though made of hard plastic instead of good English yew. The other was some contraption that didst seems more pulleys than bow.

"And what is that, then?" Robin cried. He picked it up and turned it about in his hands to marvel at.

"Um, it's called a, a compound bow."

"It doth look more belike to a ship's rigging than a weapon!"

"I think thou hath hit on it, love," I said. "Tis likely that is how twas devised."

Robin was shown how to change the tension on the bowstring. He immediately tested his might against the full strength of the draw, and found it to be to his satisfaction. Twas a great improvement over the old type he hath been used to, he declared. And when he learned it fired with strength greater than it drew, his mind was set. He wouldst never willingly use regular bows again.

We bought the compound bow, after some time testing to see if this one was indeed the best of the lot. We also didst buy some dozens of arrows. They were made of metal, which we thought odd. ("Wooden arrows sometimes shatter when shot from a compound bow, sometimes even in the air. They're just too weak to take the bow's power," Howard told us, which impressed us both all over again.) And lastly, we bought the tools and waxes and glues necessary to properly maintain the weapon, along with a variety of arrowheads. They were perforce necessary, but strangely not sold with the arrows.

Between Robin's purchases and mine own, we had used up over half of Phil's largesse. But there was still one more place of import, one more visit to make ere we could rest and eat our midday meal.

"This is a place of mystic research?" Robin asked doubtfully as he took in the mess. Thin rectangular boxes were stacked everywhere, interspersed liberally with puzzles and more esoteric items. "The clutter doth seem aright for a wizard's den, but the things look not mystical to mine eyes."

"Still, tis the place."

"Oh, my God! Awesome!" This from the person behind the counter. Short and thin, he was even younger than was Howard; I doubted a razor hath touched his chin more than a dozen times. "I'd heard about that convention yesterday, I wish I'd gone! I had the greatest costume for Halloween, too..."

"After all the worried, frightened looks we had gotten since yesterday, the boy's sheer envy was a welcome relief. Still, we had wandered long, and were weary. Twas a poor state in which to properly receive a fan.

Thankee. Truly, thankee," I said with a curtsey. "But we hath need of thine assistance."

"Really? Oh, God. This is so cool!" he gushed. "Oh, I'm Max. Pleased to meetcha! Welcome to The Gamesman!"

"Thankee. I -"

"So whacha need help with? An RPG, right? You guys became characters from a game! That's so cool! What system?"

"Uh..." I faltered to a halt. Max's enthusiasm was becoming overwhelming.

"'Traps and Treasures,'" Robin supplied.

"Yes. Thankee, love."

Max's face screwed up like he had bitten into a beef pie and found it filled with offal. "Why would you use ''that'' system? It's a piece of shit!"

Robin's voice was dangerously low when he said, "Watch thy tongue, child, lest I cut it off. Tis a Lady ye speak to!"

Max blanched when he realized Robin's eyes were hard and one wing rested on the knife at his side. "Uh, s-sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean... uh, this way!"

"Many thanks."

We found but three books under the 'Traps and Treasures' title, and one was a duplicate of another. Max didst apologize profusely for the lack of choice, telling us at length how the store was phasing out the system from its shelves. He acted as if afraid we wouldst grow offended at him for it. Twas a pitiful sight, like a puppy kicked and now afraid even as it was still eager to please.

We were well pleased to buy the two books and be away from him.

Lunch was a noisy affair, loud enough that my ears were laid flat as we ate. Robin had a beef burrito, whereas I needs must satisfy myself with one filled merely with beans and rice. I was unsure if horses ate such fare, and thus it was something of an experiment. So far it was turning out well enough. I was glad that vegetarian dishes hath become increasingly popular over the last few years, making the available dishes tolerably broad.

I watched him eat his food with envy, despite the disgustingly meaty odors wafting from his side of the table. Twas most unfair. Twas my idea, my work, my costumes, yet twas he who hath all the gains. Wit, skill with many weapons, and he couldst even fly, or at least glide for a bit. And what hath I? A major dietary restriction, hooves, and a dress. True, like my love Robin I had gained some skills, but embroidery was useless, as was the ability to efficiently run a castle staff (unless I didst somehow become manager of a large hotel, I reckoned). That I had a shapely body and had retained my own mind to some degree seemed little comfort.

All the walking about the mall's hard floors had made mine hooves sore. I sighed and rubbed my aching fetlocks, and tried hard to ignore the stares of fascinated and curious shoppers so I couldst concentrate on the books.

That was another good thing — though in reality it shouldst be considered the lack of a bad thing. I couldst still read. Robin, it turned out, couldst not.

Twas therefore up to me to pore over the volumes in search of information that might prove useful. The task was not quick, even once I found the area pertaining to Kestagian Mages, for what I needed was inconveniently spread out amongst multiple chapters.

"Listen to this," I told him, interrupting his inspection of the silk plant next to our table. "A Kestagian Mage is an evil wizard that doth be powerful enough to place his soul in a container for safekeeping. No reason doth be given for why it must be an evil mage, I shouldst add. At any rate, this maketh him effectively immortal. Ye canst do anything thy wish to him, but his essence will remain, and it casnt cast healing spells on whatever doth be left of his body, even were it merely ash."

"So it doth be unstoppable."

"Nay. Remember this doth be a game, and tis a poor game that doth not ever let the player win."

"I knoweth some games like that. And by all reports, this doth be a poor game."

I giggled. "Verily, verily. Thou shouldst see what such artifacts as the Rock of Rama-Lama or the Sceptre of Sidhe-Baup canst do! But tis not the case this time, or not in that way. The creature's weakness is his Aelpa. Which is what it thought you had, and I daresay it may be correct."

Robin cocked his head. "Oh?"

"Tis what the game hath named the vessel for the thing's soul. Tis always a diamond, and a mage who has a Kestagian's Aelpa canst do certain things to or with the creature. Cast spells through him like an artifact, using the Kestagian's magic rather than his own. Control him, bind him, or of course destroy him."

Robin's eyes turned thoughtful. "I canst see why our little friend wouldst be so eager to regain it, then. Let us see what I hath in the way of diamonds."

For one terrible moment, as Robin reached for the bag full of gems and jewelry at his side, I didst imagine he was going to simply dump the contents out on the table. But all he didst was to open the drawstring and poke through it with one wing, much like a child examining his marbles. Every now and again he wouldst snatch something from within, but it remained discretely in his palm.

At the end of it, twas a total of seven gems deposited on the tray. The smallest was a circle perhaps a quarter of an inch across; the largest was shaped like an elongated teardrop, and was nearly two inches in length.

"So, then," Robin mused aloud, "all we must do is find the correct diamond amongst these and smash it, and he shalt be undone?" He fingered the largest. "Twould be a true shame, were this the one."

"Nay. It wouldst not be."

"What? But of course it wouldst! See here, tis a gem unsurpassed!"

"Ye misunderstand me. This," I said, tapping the pages with a hooflet, "says the gem cannot be destroyed by normal means. Tis only vulnerable to magic."

"Then we find a mage..."

I shook my head. "All those at Xanadu wouldst have scattered ere now, and I know not of others. Another way dost be to restrain the enemy, and then maketh him swallow it. With his soul within his body once more, he canst be killed by whatever means thou desire."

"Dost thou have any ideas how to restrain a mage who doth not will it?"

I paused for long moments, frowning. "Nay. The game doth assume there wouldst be a mage in the party."

"Methinks it a foolish assumption," Robin said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Doth there be anything else told about him, or his Aelpa?"

"Quite a bit," I said, and flipped to a new chapter. "The Aelpa does many things, but two of real interest to us. The first is that it allows him to effortlessly assume a disguise, usually that of a normal human. Methinks that is why we doth not remember him from Xanadu; he looked like any other person with a lot of jewelry. But the main tidbit wouldst be how it is tracked by its true owner."

"Ah!"

"Yea, verily tis how he didst find us. If we like, we canst simply discard the diamonds and be done with him." I didst not like the notion of leaving an evil mage free to wreck what havoc he willed, but I felt the option needs must be exposed.

Robin's beak somehow managed a frown. "Nay... I want him dealt with. I didst not much like how he treated thee."

"Agreed, on both counts," I said. "But there is one very interesting thing to note, regarding the tracking. To wit, his accuracy in knowing his Aelpa's location doth be of ''inverse'' proportion to its distance from him!"

"I doth not be sure I understand thee..."

"I meaneth that when he is ten miles away from it, he canst pin its location down to the inch, for whatever good it does. He canst point straight at it," I said, and demonstrated. "At a mile, he knoweth where it is to within a foot. But at a thousand feet he canst only tell that it is somewhere in a ten-foot cube — and he canst not be certain it doth be at the center, either. And when he doth get to within a hundred feet of it -" and now I smiled "- he canst only tell that he is within a hundred feet. Beyond that he simply canst not get a better fix."

Robin thought on that for a few moment. "He still canst find it by traversing the boundary at a hundred feet," he mused. "He couldst find the center that way."

"True enough. I suspect that most of the people running this game assumeth it to be a gradual decrease in accuracy, with these measurements as milestones of sorts. But that doth not be how tis written, and I am unsure how the curse would translate it. But e'en if it shouldst be a sharp jump like thou noticed, our opponent must think of the tactic before he canst use it, and I hath not been too impressed by his cleverness yet."

"Nor I, now that ye mention it."

"Exactly. And thus I think I have a plan for how to handle this."

Robin sat up straighter in his chair and sent a sharp look my way. "''Thou'' hath a plan for battle? A woman?"

I blew him another raspberry. "Thou hath no cause to look so surprised, dear! I doth not be just some pretty mare to hang off your arm and embroider thine shirts for thee!"

"My apologies, dear Lady." Robin actually stood and bowed to me. "I didst not mean to mock. What, then, is thy plan?"

It didst not take long to tell, for twas quite simple. Robin pointed out a few flaws, made a few suggestions, and asked no small number of questions. But there was little preparation needed. We had only to wait.

That night, as the mall was near to closing, we casually strolled into one of the department stores and headed towards the rear. Twas there that the bathrooms were, but we didst avoid them for the same reason we avoided the changing rooms scattered about the store: workers were savvy enough by now to check those after hours. Instead we went to one of the janitor's closets. Robin picked the lock with some hairpins we'd bought earlier, and we slipped inside unnoticed. Other than a quick check to confirm that it didst not lock on the inside, our task was simply to keep silent and wait once more.

Twas very dark in there, and I actually dozed for some time. I was awakened by a feathery nudge. "They hath been gone for nearly an hour," he whispered. "I thinketh that be long enough."

I nodded, then remembered that birds hath poor night vision. He couldst not possibly see me. "We art lucky the mage hath waited this long. We shouldst hurry, now."

Without another word Robin cracked open the door to peer outside. It must have met his satisfaction, for the rest of him followed a moment later. By the time I blinked my eyes into adjusting themselves to the greater light — twas dim, but far brighter than the closet — Robin had already crossed the hall and was picking the yet another lock with a remarkable skill and silence.

I said a silent prayer to the Lord that the hinges wouldst not squeak as they moved.

They didst not. Robin entered the room beyond silently and unobserved whilst I stayed motionless outside, lest the clops of mine hooves give the game away. There was a cry from within, then a soft thump. My heart raced, hoping... and then Robin poked his beak back into the hallway. "Tis clear, now."

I entered, and took in the sight. A young woman in a security guard's uniform lay sprawled on the floor. Above her was a bank of monitors, numbering half a dozen. Notebook full of paperwork lined the shelves along one wall.

"Surely thou hath not..." I gestured at the woman.

Robin shook his head. "She merely sleeps, though her head shalt ache terribly on the waking."

I released a breath I didst not realize I held. What we had already done was bad enough, but killing her wouldst have made our future very tenuous indeed. "Tie her and gag her, then, whilst I search for the proper notebook."

There was no rope in the security center, of course, so he resorted to tying her hands with a power cord cut from a radio. Before he dragged her off to confine her in the same closet we'd just left, I made sure to take the nametag from her lapel. I wouldst need it soon.

Finally I didst find the correct page of the correct notebook. "Say nothing," I reminded Robin. He nodded, and I took a deep breath. This wouldst be the most difficult part of the night, other than the battle itself. If I made an error here, things wouldst likely turn out very poorly indeed — and an error was more likely than not.

I read the numbers from the page one more time, memorizing them. Then I reached for the phone and dialed.

"AmerAlarm," the woman on the other end said pleasantly. "This is Michelle Young. How can we help you?"

"Hey, hi Michelle. This is account 15539-2377. Could you put all the alarms and alerts on hold, please?" I concentrated furiously on the words as I spoke them. Twas a major effort to speak this way, without any Olde English at all seeping into mine speech.

"Certainly, ma'am. Do you have the pass code there with you?"

"That I do. It's, ah, 612934."

"Thank you," Michelle replied. "And how long do you want this to go for?"

"Until 0800," I said, making sure to use modern military time. I couldst feel sweat on my brow at the effort of saying things correctly. "We're going to be running some tests all night."

"All right, you're all set. And what is your name, please?"

"Sandy. Sandy Middleton," I told her, reading from the nametag.

"Got it. The police will not be called in on any alarms or alerts until eight o'clock tomorrow. Thank you for calling AmerAlarm, Miss Middleton!"

"Thanks a lot. Later!" I hung up the phone and dropped heavily into the chair. (Thankfully, there was an actual opening that didst fit my tail well.) Twas done! All those years of watching cop shows had just paid off. I wiped the sweat off and smiled reassuringly at my mate.

"I am most glad twas thee who made the call," he said gravely. "I could never have spoken as thou just hast."

I nodded wearily. We were lucky the guard had been a woman and we both knew it — even if it had pained Robin to strike her down from behind. And it had, I knew.

Once I had collected myself we left the room. I had to step over the broken broomhandle Robin had wedged beneath the closet's doorjamb on the way out to the store proper, but otherwise paid it no mind.

The sound of my hooves against the tile floor was eerie in the silence. The store was nearly all dark, with only patches of light at the exits and a few places within. It lent the place a downright spooky air. I hoped twould not be a long wait. I had waited enough that day, and was tired of it.

Thankfully, the department I was to wait in was well lit. It made sense enough — the jewelry section hath perhaps the highest-priced items in the store. And twould do well for the plan, as well. What it wouldst do for me was another matter.

We didst not bother to pick any locks, this time. We simply smashed the glass cases open. Somewhere, most probably back in the security room, alarms began to sound, but we ignored them. Twas a wondrously seductive feeling, to wreck such damage with neither restraint nor worry of interruption.

But twas not without purpose. The cases needed to be open for my plan to work, and the diamonds on display wouldst be difficult to find amongst all the broken glass. To make it harder yet we removed the dark felt trays at the cases' bottoms. We didst not take any jewelry, however, and it had not been easy at all to convince Robin of ''that'' aspect, for certain!

That done, twas nothing left to do. I kissed Robin's cheek once for luck, then he jogged away to take his position.

I may have been — I ''was'' — tired of waiting, but that didst not mean I was done with it. For a long time I simply stood there, or paced. Twas no small risk for me to be standing there in that pool of light like a worm on a hook.

For twas exactly the role I filed: bait. With me here, amongst the ruined cases, the mage wouldst have little choice but to believe we had hidden his Aelpa in amongst the more common diamonds. A purloined letter, of sorts. And thus he wouldst be forced to search the wreckage for it, leaving himself open for Robin to play ''his'' role.

We couldst only hope I was not killed before he could.

And so I stood, and paced, and worried. Mine thoughts and fears ran wild. Wouldst he come? Wouldst we know it? Or doth he have some magical means of arrival we wouldst never detect? Couldst we even defeat him, or was this a futile effort?

When doth the guard's relief show up?

My eyes widened as I realized I had failed to consider it. But the shifts were likely a mere eight hours, and the logical time for a changeover wouldst thus be midnight, not eight o'clock.

Desperately I wheeled about, searching for a clock. But there was none. No doubt there were some in with the electronics, but in here there were only... I fair to leapt at a case and rooted through the shards for a watch.

11:22

Two other watches confirmed the time. We wouldst have to leave immediately were we to avoid the police. I tossed them back in the case and turned to leave, mouth open to call out.

Twas at that moment that I heard a voice from the darkness, not twenty paces distant. "So ''there'' you are," it rasped, instantly setting my fur on end. "But where, oh where, is good Robin Hood, hmm?"

That question was the one thing we couldst not adequately hide or explain away. Twas our main weakness, and our one hope — that he wouldst be too concerned over recovering his Aelpa to ask it — had just failed. "He left," I said simply, and stepped to one side. I couldst barely see him in the gloom, but it was clear enough that he had, whether by luck or design, approached from exactly the opposite side from where Robin lay, putting me in the line of fire.

"Sir Robin ran away? Brave, ''brave,'' Sir Robin?" the Kestagian mocked, and stepped into the light. If anything, he looked worse than he had last night. His head looked soft, like the skull was still too badly broken to hold the correct shape. "Now why don't I believe that?"

He gestured suddenly, and I flung myself to the floor in a tangle of skirts as a bolt of lightning crackled by overhead. There was the crunching of glass under a booted heel as the mage jumped the cases to get at me again. "Robin!" I cried desperately as I scrambled to get up, or at least around a corner. Why hath he not fired?

The soft-edged whir of an arrow cutting through the air answered that. It hit the decaying mage with a meaty smack, embedding itself perfectly where the heart shouldst be. He staggered back, forced by the impact to steady himself against a case.

But he didst not fall. "''There'' you are, Robin!" he cried out almost joyfully. "I almost started to believe her!" His hand moved, and something I couldst not rightly see flew from him at my love. There was a squawk, and the mage trotted his way, leaving me on the floor.

"I was worried, oh yes I was," he enthused. I gathered my skirts and took the opportunity to get out of the maze of displays. "Worried I wouldn't be able to pay you back for last night. Wasn't nice, running me over like that! Now I have to kill you, you know. You do know that, right?"

I couldst hear Robin as he ran along the aisles. Why had the mage not fallen? I had managed to fashion a pouch for the diamonds and attach it behind the missile's broadhead tip. That shouldst have been the end of it! What went wrong?

There was another whir, another meaty impact. Again it was met with laughter, not anguish. There was a whoosh and a flash as the Kestagian tossed fire from his fingertips. "You never learn, do you? That whole ambush, just to futilely shoot me again! You're pathetic!"

More arrows, another fireball. But this time there was a cry of pain — from Robin. The mage was ''playing'' with him, enjoying drawing out the hunt because he hath proven himself invulnerable to anything we couldst throw at him. Robin was still running around the outer aisles; if he kept this up he wouldst make a complete circuit of the store.

I began to trot, myself, trying hard to get away and keep ahead of them. The sound of mine hooves gave me away, but twould be even worse were I caught in the midst of this battle with no viable weapon, and no available weapon wouldst suffice. The smooth tile was not the best for running on, especially in the state of near-panic that was growing within me. I fell to mine knees as I skidded around one corner.

I sobbed once as I got up. Twas such a ''good'' plan! It didst not deserve to fail! ''We'' didst not deserve it, didst not deserve to be toyed with and ''tortured'' by a sadist who is himself immune from harm! But deserving or no, twas happening.

Another slip, another skid, this one violent enough to knock mine muzzle against the floor. Twas well it did, for it didst also knock some sense back into my skull. I looked around. My flight had taken me to the department in which Robin had hid himself: men's shoes. I stifled a giggle at the incongruous thought that mayhap I shouldst try some on so I couldst run better.

Tis then I noticed the lump, nearly right in front of my nose.

I snatched it up instantly and bounded to my hooves. Twas no wonder Robin's shot failed! The enormous force of the compound bow had ripped the pouch away from the arrow when he released his shot. On another day it might have been humorous, like some cartoon, but tonight it just may spell our downfall. But if I couldst get the diamonds to Robin, perhaps we might still live to see the morrow.

Now I trotted through the store with a different purpose. But when I rounded the last corner, my hoped crashed. The Kestagian was no longer enjoying the chase; he was enjoying the ''catch.''

As last night, Robin was held suspended in midair, legs and wings spread wide. There didst not be any lightning running through his feathers, yet patches had been burned away during the chase, leaving ugly wounds on the flesh beneath. And even as I watched a number of feathers flew away from his body, seemingly of their own accord, trailing blood as they sailed off.

"Gonna pluck you, little chicken," the mage gloated, and Robin jerked as another handful was ripped bloodily away. "I'll rip you apart and serve you for dinner! Then I'll find my Aelpa and make glue out of your dear, ''sweet'' love!"

Robin's roar of anguish couldst not possibly be due merely to the painful loss of his plumage. I couldst see his muscles bunch as he tried to free himself from whatever force held him. But his captor only glanced his way and his limbs thrust themselves to full extension — and beyond. It didst look like wings and legs wouldst be flying away next, not merely handfuls of feathers, and a red haze clouded mine sight.

Mine jog turned into a run, a sprint. I cared not at all for the noise mine hooves made now as I bolted for them. The mage was still intent on the torture of Robin — of my love, my mate, my life! He didst not turn at the sound of mine approach, not until I was a bare handful of yards away.

Despite the surprise evident on his face he still managed to raise a hand in my direction. Twas not enough time to fire off whatever spell he had in mind, however, before I slammed into him, knocking him back with all the force and weight of a pony. The air whuffed from his lungs as he reeled on his feet, and mine fist shot out to punch him. The fist holding the diamonds.

Horses art not weak creatures, even when they walked on two legs rather than four. The hard hooflets that covered the last joint of each finger wouldst make for a debilitating blow to anyone, shouldst I ever put the full strength of mine arms behind them. Panicked by the pursuit and enraged over my lover's torture, twas devastating. Mine hand hit his chest and kept going through skin already weakened by rot and a multitude of arrows. His ribs crunched beneath my hooflets as I followed through.

The creature looked down at his chest, at mine arm plunging deep into it. Slowly he backed himself away, and my arm emerged from within with a sickening slurp. But I had released the pouch, and all the diamonds remained somewhere in his body.

The game book had said to return a Kestagian's soul to him by somehow making him swallow his Aelpa. But it had also stated that life wouldst return to the mage once it was "within his body." Now he screamed, wailing loudly as life returned to his body — the same body that had been shot a dozen times and sported a gaping hole in its chest. Blood poured from his wounds, thick and foul-smelling. He collapsed to his knees and clutched feebly at his chest, perhaps to remove the pouch. But twas thrust deep. He wailed one last time, eyes full of disbelief, and died in a growing pool of blood.

I stood for long seconds over the body. Gore matted my fur to the elbow and had spattered all over my brand new dress, but I had eyes only on the body before me. As hard as it may have been for him to believe his life was over, twas even harder for me to believe I had been the one to end it.

Then I didst remember Robin, and I rushed to his side. He looked unwell, indeed not much better than the Kestagian. Patches of feathers had been burnt or ripped away, and he moved stiffly as he regained his feet.

"Is it dead?" he asked, his words sounding strange because he didst not dare move even his beak overmuch.

"Tis," I said, and kissed him full on the mouth. Neither beaks nor muzzles were well designed for it, but I didst manage. "And we art not. We hath won, love!"

"Wonderful. You did wonderful, dear."

"I daresay. Tis good to see you play the role of damsel in distress for once!"

He tried to give me a raspberry this time, but beaks art not built for them like muzzles. He settled for rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, but I fear we must... must away from this place." Robin swayed on his feet momentarily. "I need a place to recover."

"Mayhap we canst find a friendly inn this night," I suggested.

"Good. Yes. Then we canst plot out... our future plans. What doth we do about all those poor you told me about. Those ones without homes to put their fridges in."

I let him lean on me as we made our way to the emergency exit where we had stored our day's purchases. "Dost thou really think thou canst help so many people? Tis a noble goal, but..."

"I know not! Tis why I must plan! But I shalt say this for certain," he said, and even wounded he managed to trill an enthusiastic laugh, "I doth be Robin Hood! If anybody canst help the poor, tis I!"

I giggled, and poked him in the ribs. "Do not forget his sidekick, lover, and wife!"

"Ack! Mercy, my Lady! Nay, I shalt never forget thee!"

I smiled. "Good."

We stepped outside together, in each other's arms, and left the wailing of alarms at our backs.

<comments />

{{author endnote|I had helped Bryan work out some of the rules and differences between it and No More Fakes, a predecessor universe with a similar mass transformation at its center. But even after he posted the first Xanadu story, it was quite some time before I did this one. Bryan pretty much pressured me into making it, though, and suggested using one of my fursuits as the basis for it. It didn't take long for me to decide which one to use, but it did take a week or two of thinking before I managed to find a plot that was more than, "Ack, I'm no longer me, what will I do with my life now?" Once I managed that, though, the story took only a little while to write (well, for me it was only a little while), about a month. Other than the slight embarrassment of it being a transgender story (and the obvious corollary that I own and wear a fursuit of a female character), though, I'm happy with it.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest}}

Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest

2007-09-18T07:33:41Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

"Hold up, Gary," I murmured softly. "I need to rest again."

His exasperated sigh was audible through both masks, his and mine. "The eyes?"

I nodded, and he guided me to a circular bench that enclosed a palm tree. Sitting was a blessed relief, although thanks to the outfit it was somewhat awkward.

I reminded myself that this costume wasn't a result of just my labor, it was also my concept and design. The idea had been to build costumes based on Robin Hood. He would be a robin, of course, and not a fox like the cartoon. Ultimately he would be accompanied by his band of merry men — most notably Friar Duck and Will a-Scarlet Macaw, along with anyone else I could think up a good avian related pun for. But those others hadn't been finished in time for Kubla Con.

One of Robin's companions ''had'' been finished, though. His lady love, Maid Marian. (She was a horse — ''mare''-ian. I thought it was a great pun, though few others got it without an explanation.)

The problem was, Marian's costume required a renaissance-style dress, and those suckers were heavy and very cumbersome. "Robin" was lucky; even though his sleeves were modified to look like wings, and he had to carry a bow and quiver (modified to be con-safe), the tunic and vest and hat that he wore were nothing compared to a dress, two skirts, a dress, and sleeves — all before adding the mask, gloves and shoes that made her a horse.

And who wore Maid Marian? Me, of course. I didn't presently have a girlfriend, or even know any women as friends well enough to ask them to wear it. Gary's frame was slender enough that he could have passed for female, but he did better as Robin. His small size made him more birdlike, anyway, whereas my frame could certainly be a better fit for a horse. I wasn't fat, mind you, not at all. It was just that I could hardly be called slender like he could, either. The fact that I topped him by a head added to the effect. At any rate, a build like mine might have been good for the horse aspect, but I would never pass as a female. Not without a lot of work. So in addition to all the clothes the public saw, I wore a corset and stuffed bra, along with one of those padded things that bulks out the hips. With all that, and the mask to hide my face, I could pass as a thickset woman.

All of which was a somewhat long way of saying that I was ''hot.'' Being in Orlando, even in November, didn't help much. And the battery powering the fan in the muzzle that kept the air circulating was dying. Moisture was getting blown out of the nostrils slower than I was sweating it into the air, and the plastic eyes had gotten all foggy. It probably looked like my costume had cataracts, and she might as well have. I was about as blind.

For ten minutes we just sat. I tried hard to breathe as little as possible to prevent even more moisture from fogging up the eyes. Eventually I could see more than vague shapes again, and began paying attention to the other costumes. Along with the usual assortment of Klingons, Jedi, and superheroes, some stood out. A few of them were quite good, like the dragon that must have contained at least two men. Others were not so great, like the robot that was clearly assembled in ten minutes from cardboard boxes, spray paint, and a magic marker. And a few were just puzzling. What did a ballerina, a US Marine Captain, or an anthropomorphic white rabbit have to do with science-fiction or fantasy? If the rabbit had been wearing an Elizabethan outfit I could say it was from Caroll, but he was just wearing overalls.

"We're going to be late," Gary complained, though still speaking softly. Although the jaws moved, speaking in these masks was to be avoided. It didn't sound right.

I nodded my reply, but still took my time getting up. The awards ceremony to give out the big prizes — cash, this year! — would be starting any time now, true, but I knew we wouldn't win any of those. I had thought I'd done a good job with what we were wearing, but some of the ones out there were good enough for movies. Besides, we'd already won a prize for "good couple." It was clearly a minor category, and one I've never heard of before at ''any'' con, but I wasn't about to complain. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks.

The main ballroom, where the major awards were to be dispersed, was crowded. All of the chairs within easy reach were occupied, and the walls were jammed with people. Nearly all of them were in costume, though for a sizable number it was just the funny prosthetic animal noses that were being sold in the dealer's room.

A man was ascending the low stage to join a woman in a leafy dryad outfit. He was tall, but beyond that details were impossible to discern because his clothing was a featureless black and he wore a mask. He looked like a very distinguished crow, or maybe raven. He must be the millionaire funding all the prizes, I surmised. I was proved right a moment later when the woman announced, "Eric Winters, everyone!" By then everyone at the con knew that name.

Mr. Winters took the microphone, a cat-person on one side and the dryad on the other. For several seconds he said nothing, waiting for crowd noise to die down a bit. Then he swayed, looking like he was drunk or perhaps suffering from heat exposure.

"What a wimp," I said to myself. Even though he was dressed all in black, my costume had to be a hundred times worse. Although, now that I was thinking about it again, it didn't seem so bad anymore. It was still hot and heavy, but not oppressively so, and my field of view was the best I'd had in hours. Maybe ten times worse, then.

The audience was beginning to murmur nervously. Suddenly several people interspersed throughout the hall screamed almost in unison, and panic took hold of the room.

People and costumes were running everywhere, screaming and bellowing. I laid my ears flat against the cacophony. "What is it? What is happening?" I cried. What caused the panic? I was scared more of the people here than of some danger of which I knew nothing!

"Come, my Lady!" Robin shouted over the din. "This place is unsafe!"

A bright red bar of light flashed nearby, leaving afterimages in my eyes. What looked like a man made of silver was exchanging blows with... "A griffin! My goodness, how didst a griffin get in here? Where art the guards?"

"''Please,'' Marian!"

I looked at Robin. He only called me by name in the most dire of circumstances. I had to admit that this was the most dire I could recall. "Lead on," I ordered.

He took me by the arm and aimed us at the door. Twas a shame he had not brought his sword, for it would have been of great help. Strangely, I couldn't for the life of me remember why he hath left it behind. Surely it would not have called attention to him in ''this'' lot!

For once, my lover was not gentle. Not with me and certainly not with those between us and our exit. We were somewhat aided by the fact that so many others were aimed at the same set of doors, though for some reason Robin was taking us on something of a meandering path which countered that benefit. I was jostled about quite a bit myself by wretches too uncouth or uncaring to properly treat nobility. I had to hike my skirts indecently high to prevent them from being ruined. Something crunched beneath my hooves — a scaly hand, I saw when I looked back. It wasn't moving.

At last Robin pushed aside one final obstacle, a grey-skinned woman whose beautiful dress was ruined by a gaudy overabundance of jewelry. We veered sharply away from the majority of those streaming out of the great hall and ducked inside a smaller room. There was an arrangement of tables on one end, but the rest of the room was occupied by chairs, some in obvious disarray. It was as if an eccentric highborn man had intended fifty people to watch him eat. Most curious.

But there were no people. "This seems safe enough," Robin declared.

"Indeed so."

Whoever's castle this was (I could remember its name — Xanadu — but oddly, not its lord's), was clearly wealthy beyond compare. The chairs were made not of wood, but metal! Such extravagance! Even with the thin layer of padding they looked uncomfortable, however. But those at the long table looked no different, so I took one near the end and sat.

- And immediately snorted in surprise. I jumped to my feet, rubbing my buttocks. Robin's trilling laugh echoed from the walls. "Watch yourself, my love! These seats were not made for tails. Inconsiderate of our host, whosoever that might be, don't you think?" He, too, had taken a chair, but was sitting on it sideways so as not to ruffle his tailfeathers.

I nodded slowly. So he knew not who ruled here either, did he? But there was something strange about his words...

"''A tail?''" I yelped, and turned to look closely at my backside. A part of me cringed at such unladylike behavior. Another was screaming that I had never been a lady! Nor had I ever had hooves, or a muzzle, or a tail. The dress hadn't been tailored for a tail! But now I had all of these, and more. I didn't want to contemplate exactly what more I had; I suspected I'd find out all too soon. "What on Earth didst happen to me?" I stopped there, surprised by how I spoke.

Robin — no, Gary — approached and put his winglike arms around me. "I know thou art distraught, love. Twas a terrible row we just escaped. But you seem unharmed, if a touch disheveled." He smiled, somehow, despite the beak. "Though, verily methinks it only adds to your beauty."

For a few seconds I felt comforted by his words and embrace. My lover had ever been the flatterer! Then I pulled roughly away. Gary had ''certainly'' never been a lover of mine, and Robin hadn't existed ten minutes ago! I shuddered. It was frightening how easy it was to slip into Marian's personality.

Robin looked deeply hurt at my retreat. "Robin -" I stopped. My voice! It was very definitely a woman's, now. There was no chance of pretending to be male even to a blind man. I gathered my nerve and tried again. "Do you know anyone named Gary?" Please...

But he frowned in thought for too long. I knew the answer well before he spoke. "I know none by that name. Wouldst he perchance be a new recruit for my band?"

I shook my head sadly. His name hadn't brought him out of character. Maybe nothing would, but I vowed to try again later. Still, I wondered why he was stuck so firmly as Robin Hood while I was only a part-time Maid Marian. I shook my head again, more firmly. That, too, would have to wait.

"Not some popinjay after your affections, I hope!" Robin exclaimed. "I do so hate competition."

"Thou dost love competition."

"Ah, well. Tis you who knows my heart best." He paused for a moment. "The noise seems much diminished. We should take our leave ere the guards arrive. Tis by God's own grace that they have not already."

It occurred to me that the local sheriff would probably be much more easily countered than the one he was worrying about. At least Nottingham's knew who he was up against. Still, it would not do to be present when the cops arrived. It would be indecent for a woman of my stature to be incarcerated for participating in a common brawl, however uncommonly large.

I grimaced. These personality shifts were going to take some getting used to.

Outside the room, the place had the seeming of a town after flood. Tables that had been covered with some merchant's wares were overturned and broken, his inventory strewn everywhere. The only people to remain were three stormtroopers marching back towards the great hall. We stayed out of their way and their sight until they were past, then headed in the opposite direction, marveling at the wonderful flameless torches and the impossibly clear glass. I had never seen the like!

Our error was quickly made apparent. Twas clearly the direction the great majority of the mob had gone. We could see the throngs outside through more great sheets of that glass. But when we approached closer to see, another marvel revealed itself. As we neared, a portion slid aside of its own accord, revealing itself to be not a window but a door. We both blinked and looked at each other. Then he shrugged and stepped through, leaving me to follow in his wake.

Outside was chaos. But twas the chaos of a tourney, not that of a brawl. Except it missed the festive air. Most of the people looked quite displeased, indeed! Men and creatures were sitting with dejected looks upon their visages. Some were weeping or wandering aimlessly, as if their wits had deserted them.

Strange movement caught my eye: a pair of turning lamps, one burning red, the other blue. The rested on an oddly-shaped box of metal and glass. More were arriving, accompanied by a wail audible for a mile or more. My awe was less than it might have been, however, as I realized they were some sort of vehicle. There were just too many wonders, and my sense of awe was becoming dulled from overuse.

The guards — no, the ''police!'' — were here at last. I glanced at Robin, but while he had seen them arrive he was as yet unaware of their significance. They were already beginning to block off the exits from the parking lot. Within an hour, or maybe half that, none would be able to leave the grounds without their permission.

"The sheriff's men art here," I told Robin.

"Oh?" His head darted about, searching. "Where? I see them not?"

"The cars — the metal boxes with lamps atop them. Those art his."

"Ah... art thou sure, my Lady? Their garb is peculiar."

"A new set of armor doth change not who they be. Tis they, for certain." I hoped Gary would emerge soon. Having to term everything so Robin Hood would understand was an arduous task. And that was when I understood it, myself.

The avian face looked thoughtful. I knew instantly what he had in mind. "Thou art mad if thou thinketh you can force conflict now!"

He trilled, clearly amused. "Against greater numbers, with neither stalwart companions nor plan? Nay, fear not, my love. I dost not be quite so foolish as that!"

I looked at him suspiciously. If he didst not desire a battle, what then? Only one thing came to mind. "Thou art planning a grand jest." Drawing attention to us out of these multitudes was second only to a fight in my estimation of things to be avoided. "We haven't the time! More guards arrive by the moment!" But the gleam in his eye was accompanied now by a stubborn set to his beak. I gulped and tried a different approach, on that I had rather hoped to avoid. I grasped the ends of his wings gently and in the softest, most sincere tone I could muster said, "For me, my... my love?"

For a moment I thought even that might not be enough. Robin Hood was the rogue's rogue. But he was also something of a gentleman. "Since thou dost insist," he said. "Though it doth pain me to leave without tweaking his nose by letting him know who he almost caught in his net." With one backward glance at the police, we left.

Escaping them was simplicity itself. We simply walked out of a side of the parking lot from which there were no sanctioned exits. The police had done little more than block and regulate the ways cars could come and go. By no means was the "net" tight enough yet to catch those without them.

As we walked, Robin turned his head about often to stare at some new wonderment. He said nothing, just taking it all in. And there was so very much to take in! His state made it easy for me to take the lead. And, thanks to how I had somehow not completely become Marian, I even had some idea where to go.

The highway was not far from Xanadu. When it came into view we both stopped and stared. We had thought the cars were going impossibly quick on the local streets, but it was as nothing compared to this!

"What is this place?" Robin said over the din of hundreds of moving cars.

"Tis the highway," I called back. "We needs must ride one of these."

He didn't look precisely scared. Acutely worried, mayhap. "Art thou sure we must? We could always walk."

I nodded. "Twould take days to reach safe haven by hoof." I blinked; that was supposed to be ''by foot.'' "Fret not. These cars dost be harmless if thou dost not stand before them."

"How canst thou be so certain?"

"I am a learned mare."

That mollified him. Together we made our way to the highway. Robin had little trouble with the chain-link fence on its edge; he simply jumped over, aided by a few flaps of his wings. I had somewhat more difficulty. Neither my hooves nor my dress were well suited to climbing. We had to search for some time before finding a tear in the links.

We walked onto the shoulder. I let Robin support me a bit; loose stones unbalanced me whenever they chanced to be beneath my hooves. Then I stuck out a thumb in the traditional manner. It felt a mite peculiar, until I realized I had only three fingers.

One more thing to get used to.

Twice cars slowed and began to drift our way, and twice they regained their incredible speed and passed us by. But a third did not veer off, and stopped a few dozen feet away. It was of the type that looked somewhat like the wagons with which we were both familiar, except the driver's area was enclosed and as always there were no horses to pull it. It also was not in the best of conditions, with rust and dents riddling its body.

The glass window near us was absent. Within was a single occupant, large and bearded. "Need a ride?" he drawled.

"Verily."

"C'mon in, then."

We nodded, then paused. How to enter was not immediately clear. Then Robin scrambled in through the opening.

"I will not crawl inside like that!" I declared, hands on my hips. "Twould be unbecoming!"

"Why don't you use the door then, miss?"

We looked at the man. He was trying hard not to laugh. I could feel my ears redden as I blushed. "Thou dost mock me!"

"Sorry, miss, sorry. I just... never mind. Ya open the door by pulling on that handle there. Yeah, that. Now pull..."

Part of the side swung away, and it was suddenly much easier to get inside. "I thought that was an ornament," I declared as I got in. I had to sit slightly sideways on the padded bench, since, as at Xanadu, he had not thought to accommodate those with tails. Robin had a similar problem, and solved it the same way. It changed the seat from small to truly cramped, but I still managed to close the door — carefully, mindful of my skirts.

The strange wagon started to move. Its speed continued to build until it was the countryside that moved too fast for comfort. By contrast, the nearby wagons were almost still, shifting position slowly. I confess that my hands were clenched tight on the metal door.

"First time ridin' a car, is it?"

Robin nodded stiffly. I noticed he kept his eyes on the man rather than the petrifying view outside. Then I closed my eyes so I didn't have to look at it, either.

"Well, as ya can see it ain't so bad, is it? A little scary at first but ya get used to it quick. By the way, my name's Sam."

"We are honored. I am Robin Hood and this is my Lady love, Marian."

"Uh... right. Good job on those costumes. Damn, they can do anything these days! So where do ya come from, that ya ain't never ridden before?"

"We hail from Sherwood Forest."

A pause. "Right. Well... Oh! Heh, I get it now. ''Robin'' Hood. Clever!" I wondered what was so clever about it. Twas his name, nothing more. "Well, you're pretty far from there, eh?"

"Indeed. Thou didst speak but a moment past of never before meeting people who have ridden in a... car?"

"Yeah, damn near everyone's ridden in these things — unless you're Amish, maybe, and I don't think you are. They just don't wear costumes like yours. Just about everyone owns one, too, except the poor and those damn Amish again."

I didn't have to be watching to see Robin perk up at the mention of the poor. "So tis only rich Lords such as yourself who own these cars, then."

Sam laughed, a deep bass that set my ears to ringing. "I ain't no lord! Just about anyone can buy one if they save up, thank God. Only the really down-and-out can't manage it." His voice shifted, sounding concerned, as he said, "Gonna need a new one myself, pretty soon. This one's in bad shape. Need new everything. Even the radio's busted, which is why I can't play some music for ya."

We rode in silence for a few seconds. I cracked open my eyes, saw a tree zoom past, and immediately shut them again. I spent the time trying to imagine what a radio was and how one might be played.

"Say, where ya goin', anyway? Or are ya just driftin'? If ya are, then I can only bring ya as far as Miami. Not there's a whole lot after that!"

"I dost not think so," Robin said carefully. "Where were we going, Marian? Thou didst have a place in mind, thou claimed."

I did? But after a moment I remembered our destination, and I told it to Sam.

"Well, great! That's just two exits up!" he said cheerfully. "Good thing I asked when I did, eh?"

When I felt the car slow down, I managed to pry my eyes open once more. The scenery still moved much too fast, but I could stand it now. There were fewer buildings than the area near Xanadu, and they were smaller and less garish. Houses. Sam made a few turns, fast and sharp enough to be nauseating, and stopped before one of them.

"Here ya are. I hope y'all have fun at your party. Ya got some damn good costumes."

"Thankee for the kind words, good sir," Robin replied. I bowed my head, acknowledging our benefactor's praise, then opened the door and stepped out.

Our destination was a dwelling that was apparently average, judging by others nearby, but it was in truth as large as a small Lord's hunting retreat. It had but one floor, however, and a large hollow space to one side that took up a great deal of room. It was separated from the indoors by more sheets of flawless glass.

The building was familiar, yet not. I remembered it clearly, and knew it was safe to remain there after leaving Xanadu. But I could not recall what made it safe. Were it not for how we had no other place to go, I might have shied away from this mystery.

My lover had exited and was speaking to Sam. "Thankee for thine help. Take this as a token of my gratitude." From the purse at his hip he withdrew a square-cut ruby perhaps half an inch on each side.

Sam guffawed as he took it in hand. "Thanks, Robin. Ya do the act pretty damn good, there. Too bad it ain't real."

"Tis real enough, I assure thee."

Sam peered at him skeptically. "Perhaps now thou canst buy a new radio," I suggested. He would want an instrument before the long winter months arrive, else the boredom would become acute.

"Ha! If this is real I can buy a new ''car!'' Ha ha! See y'all later, folks. Have a good time." Sam closed the door with a thunk and drove away, still chuckling.

I whirled on my lover. "Where didst thou get those?"

"From the rich, of course!"

"From the guests at Xanadu!" I raged. "Truly thou art mad! Thou stealeth from the guests of our host! Tis a poor way to show gratitude for his hospitality!"

"His hospitality could be better," Robin countered. "Poor seats and a near-battle in the hall, and yet he doth not even deign to show himself! Twas my due, for the inconvenience if for no other reason." I glared at him. He could be so trying at times! "Besides, my sweet, what's done is done. There is no gain in anger now."

I retained my glare for a moment longer, to show I was giving in but did not have to. Then I asked from where he got the gem.

"Twas from that grey lady. Verily, she had more than was good for her soul. I was duty-bound to relieve her of some of her wealth. Half my takings came from her alone!"

''Half?'' "Just how much didst thou steal?"

In response he opened his purse. The small bag was filled with perhaps two score bits of jewelry and loose gems of various sizes and colors. One emerald was near the size of a hen's egg! "My word..." I gasped.

"In all the confusion that abounded, twas simplicity itself to relieve the rich of some of what makes them so haughty."

A girl, mayhap five years of age, was across the street, watching us with wide eyes and open mouth as we argued. I smiled reassuringly at her, and was rewarded with a tentative one in return. I thrust the bag of jewels back at Robin and strode towards the house. "Come. We art attracting attention. This is not the place to show such wealth."

Gaining entry was not quite so simple as opening a door, however, for all we found were locked. But my love had among his many skills those of an accomplished burglar. Twas only a matter of reaching an understanding of these locks.

"There," he said at last as the door from the hollow area opened at last. "After you, my Lady."

I walked into a dwelling that was oddly familiar. Strange furniture filled the room, and the most skillfully done paintings I had seen in my life hung from the walls. Beyond was a room the likes of which I had never seen. In one corner was a large box that quietly hummed and the walls were lined with cabinets filled with plates and goblets filled with glass. Was this the kitchen, then?

Yes, of course it was. I opened the refrigerator and withdrew an apple and a few slices of cheese. I had the feeling it would be wise to avoid the lunch meat. "There is food here, it thou art hungry," I called to Robin.

"Ah, thou art a wonder, my love." Robin nibbled on the base of my neck as he passed — his version of a kiss, it seemed. He paused when he reached the fridge's open door. "Tis cold!"

"Indeed so." There was little else to say.

His face turned thoughtful. "This kingdom in which we find ourselves is rich beyond compare. Beyond dreaming! The Lord who doth maintain this lodge commands such wondrous magics. Twould do much for the poor, methinks."

"Well, mayhap..."

"Mayhap! How could it not be so? Just look at the riches around us!"

"Struth, but... well."

The next few hours were consumed by giving Robin a brief summary of American society. It was somewhat difficult to convince him that most people, even the poor, had refrigerators and flameless lights, and that most of those without them had no place to put them. Unlike the England we remembered, the poor would not starve. Even once he had some idea, however, it did not change the mission he had imposed upon himself to help the poor overcome their hardships.

"Though it may require a change of strategy, perchance," he admitted. I laughed. His persistence was wonderful. It's one of the reasons I love him so dearly.

No, no. I don't. Not love...

In the course of the conversation I did determine one sad fact: Gary was gone. I knew already that he didn't recognize the name; now I knew that his job, his home town, and even his dog were all unfamiliar to him. Perhaps sometime in the future some part of Gary will emerge, but I didst not hold high hopes.

Our discourse was interrupted by the sound of an approaching car. We halted, then moved back into the kitchen. It was out of immediate view of all the doors, so we might have time to determine if the newcomer was friend or foe.

The car stopped in the hollow space. The door from there opened slowly. "Hello? Guys? I know you're here, I saw you in the window..."

As the man entered the kitchen Robin slid in quickly behind him, his belt knife pressed under the man's armpit. "Who art thou?" Robin demanded.

The newcomer was young and thin, and his eyes were wide with fear. "I'm S-Scott. I live here! Don't you remember me, Gary? I let you guys stay here during the con."

I stepped forward. "Our apologies, dear Scott. We didst not know for certain who might pursue us."

Scott stared at me as Robin put his knife away. He looked as if he had been punched. "Shit..."

"Mind your language," Robin said harshly. "A Lady doth be before you!"

"Uh... sorry. You've turned into them, haven't you? Robin Hood and Maid Marian?"

"Those art indeed our names, good sir," Robin told him.

"Of sorts," I amended. Both of them looked at me a touch oddly, but I said nothing more as yet.

With the introductions past, we took a few moments to look each other over. No doubt he wished to see what this curse had wrought on us, and the thought was mutual. It was not difficult to see what had come of Scott. His face had a decidedly feline cast to it, with a small muzzle and ears atop his head framing a mass or orange and black hair. Most interestingly, his eyes had remained entirely human.

"I see thou didst not come away from Xanadu unscathed," I commented.

We moved into the living room as he told us what happened. He hadn't worn a full costume as we had. (Robin cocked his head here, for he didst not recall any costume, but I forestalled any comment with a hand on his wing.) Instead, he had bought a cheap animal nose, held over his own by a band of rubber, and a matching pair of ears. When the curse was cast, his visage became halfway that of a tiger.

"After the riot," Scott told us, "I couldn't find you. For a long while I was sure you were still there, 'cause I was your ride back. By the time I gave up searching, the police had set up a kind of quarantine. The only reason they let me out is because my changes were ''relatively'' minor and I'm a local.

"They art not so minor to mine eyes," Robin said.

"Ah... I did say relatively minor. I mean, just look at you two!"

"What about us?"

Scott didn't quite know what to make of that.

We explained how we made our way here from Xanadu. Beyond that, there was little enough to say. It would never occur to Robin to explain the changes to his mental state, and I was reluctant to clarify the issue to Scott with him present. Our host did attempt some probing questions, which I confess I did a poorer job of answering than I would have anticipated. I could remember a computer, but not how it was used. I knew of television, but only after being reminded of its existence, and had not the slightest of notions about how such a thing could possibly be. But his inquiries were halfhearted at best, as if he feared the answers. It is likely at its end he thought us both equally lost. He seemed discomfited at the conclusion, and it was with a morose air that he announced he would begin work on our evening repast.

I found it interesting that while I found the chicken faintly revolting and had to content myself with the vegetables and a dinner roll, Robin ate it all with little consequence. Still, even such simple fare was tasteful enough to satisfy. But the meal was a somewhat tense affair. Scott was clearly uncomfortable in our presence and ate quickly. He to his bedroom immediately afterwards, pausing only long enough to indicate where we were to sleep.

There wasn't much left to do — that we could do — except prepare for bed. I spent a few minutes explaining to Robin the proper use of a toilet. (He had considered it a basin to wash clothes in, and had been about to resort to using tupperware as a chamberpot — something I doubted Scott would see much humor in.) My own first time using the toilet as a mare was a sensation I would never forget, though twould not do to recount the experience.

That done, I retired to the room Scott had designated as ours. Robin was already there. "What dost thou thinketh of our host?"

"Worried," I replied without a moment's hesitation. "We are not what he expected."

Robin stood before me, looking thoughtful. "What didst he expect, I wonder."

"Who could say?" I could, of course. But how dost one tell a lover — well, a friend — that he is but a figment of a man's imaginings? And how dost one feel when thou art the figment? I knew not the answer to either question.

"He strikes me as morose. But a good man, nevertheless. Merely troubled by the day's events."

"Tis no surprise, surely."

Robin laughed. "Nay, tis not. Twas a very trying day. Very trying." He paused. "Wilst thou be preparing for bed? Or wilst thou be sleeping in all yon finery?"

I honestly hadn't thought about it, but he did have a point. I had no nightgown, and I certainly was not about to sleep in the nude! "My chemise wilst do until we find other garb," I decided.

"Well and good. Thou wilt need assistance with thine dress. With thine permission?"

After a moment's pause I nodded. Donning the dress by myself was by no means an easy feat, and removing it scarcely any easier. Such garb typically requires a handmaiden, but I was under no illusion that I might find one here. Robin could fill the role nicely, however.

His winglike arms and hands were deft as they unknotted the golden silk ribbons that held my bodice closed. He removed the outer dress and folded it neatly over a chair. This he repeated with the underskirt. But when I tried to turn towards the bed, his arms held me, pulled me close. "Thou art a beautiful mare," he whispered.

''Oh, no.'' "I... uh..."

"Truly beautiful," he continued over my stammers. His hands rubbed my sides. "And it has been a long a trying day. Please do permit me to soothe thine fears and comfort thine nerves."

I wouldst welcome some comfort just then, but not in quite that manner! His hands were warm and soothing, yet I stepped back and away. "Thou art forward!" I chided.

My legs struck something and I stumbled. Instantly my love was there, his arms turning my tumble into a graceful seating upon the edge of the bed. "Forward, my life? Yea, perhaps so. But then, I am but a knave, who knows not such manners as those you are privy to. But verily I am an eager student. Speak out, and I wilst halt mine transgressions upon thine person."

''He doth try to seduce me!'' my mind cried. And evidently he was succeeding, for I watched in silence as his hands shifted to cup, then massage my breasts. My body suddenly felt warm, the skin beneath my fur all atingle, and my breathing grew both quicker and deeper. This can not be happening! But my body told me otherwise.

Robin pushed me gently, lowering me back against the sheets. I found myself unable to resist his advances. Unable to ''want'' to resist. His words and ministrations and just the scent of him had quickened my blood. As much as I might fight it, I ''wanted'' him to consummate our love that was deep and oh so true.

The sudden sound of breaking glass shattered the mood. My mate looked understandably displeased, and I fear I emitted a most unladylike whinny of frustrated lust. But then we realized together that this had been no dropped dish. Something of goodly size had made its way inside by means of a window.

Robin fair to leapt away towards his arms. "Stay here whilst I see to this!" he ordered me as he buckled his belt about his waist.

But I was up but a moment later. "Nay. I am coming as well." I didst not bother attempting to don my dress — twould take far too long. But I did pull on the underskirt. A woman must retain ''some'' modesty! Twould not do to run about in one's shift.

The crashing sounds of struggle were audible through the walls as Robin searched frantically for his sword before remembering he had not brought one. He cursed softly and with a single smooth movement strung his bow. "You must. I wouldst not have thee hurt in a fray!"

I strapped my purse about my waist. Twould possibly be more a hindrance than a help in any fray, but twas full of coinage and I was loath to leave it unguarded. "Then I will just have to stay out of harm's way," I said haughtily. "But I wilst be ''damned'' if I will merely sit in this room with hands folded, awaiting word of your success or failure!"

Robin waggled a finger at me. "Such words so not become a Lady!" But he was smiling.

The shouts could no longer be ignored. "Go, then!"

It was back in the room we had first entered that the commotion was. The large sheets of glass were broken, shards scattered all about. The couch upon which Robin and I had sat as we and Scott exchanged tales was broken as well, each half in a different corner of the room.

In its center was a sight fit to put ice in my stomach. Scott stood upright, but suspended a foot or more in the air by sheets of a green-tinged lightning. It traveled over and around his body again and again, but there was no thunder, only a sizzle like frying meat. Scott's hair was on end, some of it beginning to scorch, and his face was a rictus of pain.

Standing before their host was an apparition out of nightmare. It was as if sleek red robes and enough gold to buy an earl's estate had been bestowed upon a corpse, who in turn decided not to let it go to waste mouldering away in a grave. Its skin was mottled with rot and oozing sores, and its fingernails were long and yellow. When it spoke its voice was harsh and raspy. "This is your last chance," it cooed horribly, and I shuddered. Each word felt like maggots were crawling through mine hair. "Your very, very, very last chance. Are you quite certain you won't tell?"

"Never! Heard! Of it!" Sean gasped out in spurts.

"That's too bad," the thing said, its tone still a parody of sweetness. "Now I'll have to tear this place apart. Starting with you."

Robin had had enough. He nocked an arrow and cried, "Hold, varlet! Lest I put a clothyard shaft through thine heart!"

The corpse turned without haste. Then its eyes — blind and milky white, but somehow still seeing — widened in recognition. "You!"

"Yea, tis I, Robin Hood! Now release him!"

The thing looked startled at first. Then it did the unthinkable: it turned up its head and laughed. Long and hard, chest heaving with genuine humor. "Of ''course'' you are! I should have guessed!" With a casual flick of his wrist the lightning vanished, and Scott was sent flying like so much refuse. He hit a wall and tumbled down in a smoking heap, unmoving.

Robin's face clouded. His feathers were quite literally ruffled. My love didst never much enjoy being himself the object of ridicule. His shot was his revenge. At this distance, mere paces away, he could scarcely miss, and I heard the air whistle with the force of its passage as it flew true. The corpse-thing staggered with the impact.

But it did not fall. It reached to the arrow piercing its chest — exactly where the heart was — and yanked the shaft out. It did not flinch as the flesh tore, gobbets spattering on the floor. It threw it away with an ugly chuckle. "Excellent shot, 'Robin.' But you'll find me harder to kill than that."

I cried out in sudden fear as it pointed at us. We dove away in different directions, somehow knowing that this was no harmless gesture, but Robin was struck by an identical curtain of lightning to that which had ensnared our host. From just inside the doorway I watched as he was pulled upright to float where Scott had. "Now. Where is my Aelpa?"

"I know not."

Its face twisted in absolute rage. "You of all people must know! You took it from me! You!" The lightning increased, the sizzling growing until I thought myself deafened. Robin jerked spasmodically in the things power. After long, long seconds of this it softened enough that he could speak.

And still he resisted, as I knew he would. "I know not what this 'Aelpa' is," he stated as nobly as he could manage under the circumstances. "And I fail to remember taking anything at all from one as ugly as thineself. But if I had, twould be mine by right! If thou canst not prevent thine possessions from going astray then thou hast none to blame but thine own self."

Unsurprisingly, our assailant disliked such an answer. A quick motion and the lightning renewed itself once more. My Robin screamed and flailed about, but the evil creature showed no mercy. For most of a minute I helplessly watched my be tortured.

Finally the display somewhat abated. The corpse stepped in close, until its face was bare inches from my lover's beak. "Now listen, birdy," it said softly, the voice still horrible to hear. "I didn't expect to become a Kestagian Mage at Xanadu, but there's no way in Hell that I will pass this opportunity up. So I'm going to give you one last chance, much like I gave your friend." It gestured vaguely to where Scott still lay. "Where is my Aelpa?"

Robin's reply was terse. "Fuck off and die!"

Its face clouded. "You know, birds and glass have a rather nasty relationship. Did you know that?" My love abruptly went sailing across the room to crash into the lone remaining pane of plate glass. And enormous thud was clearly audible just before the pane shattered and he continued through it.

"Robin!" I screamed, and ran to follow my love regardless of the danger. But danger did not disregard me. Before I had made half a dozen strides I felt a burning across my entire body, and I felt myself lifted in the room's center to hang like a butchered goose on display.

"Perhaps you'll be more co-operative," the nightmare before me rasped.

I tried to shrink away. If its voice was belike to maggots in mine hair when it was merely overheard, it felt like worms in mine skull when it was directed at me. I fear that voice still, and can hear it yet in my mind.

"I know not!" I cried immediately, since I knew what question he meant to ask. Beyond the glass I couldst see nothing but blackness, for Robin had been thrust too far and the night had swallowed him. "Let me go! I canst not give you that which you ask! We know not what it is!" I didst not bother to hide my fear. Not fear of death, for that wouldst only allow me to join Robin in his, hopefully to meet in Heaven (no doubt after a suitable length in Purgatory, in his case). Nay, I must confess that I feared the pain to come, for I was no warrior or hero to resist such torments as I had already witnessed. "Kill me or let me go, but wither way do it and be done! I canst tell thee nothing of worth."

I dost not know which path it planned to choose — though of a certain I have my suspicions! But before he could do either there arose behind him Scott, his hair still asmoulder. He swung a great piece of wood I recognized as part of the broken couch, swung and connected with the thing's head. There was a great crack, and I thought for certain that its head was stove in, for the lightning that surrounded me vanished and I dropped bonelessly to the floor. I scrambled frantically away, sure that the corpse would fall, now a corpse in truth. But it didst not. It only turned, anger written plainly on its visage. Scott's lips peeled back in a feline snarl that wouldst surely have been fearsome, but for the greater horror before me. He swung his makeshift club again at the mage's head.

It never struck. The creature uttered something and flung his hand outwards, and the wood crashed to the floor from thumbless paws. Paws that were in turn attached to a tiger, rather than a tiger-man. The mage realized the error just as the beast leapt for its throat, and twas merely a cub that smacked against the thing's chest. It staggered from the hit, but the cub fair to bounced off to sit on the floor, shaking its head to clear it.

"Dammit!" it cried out in Scott's voice. "I thought I was safe from all this transformation shit!"

The entire room grew still for a moment. Twas a strange thing indeed to hear such words come from a tiger, and a cub at that! We all looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, and he himself seemed stunned. Then the corpse drew back its leg for a mighty kick. Scott saw, and scampered away.

The thing snorted, and I know not whether twas in frustration or satisfaction or mayhap even humor. Then it returned its attentions once more to me, and its visage was truly terrible to behold. It stepped forward as if this time to beat me to death instead of torturing me with its magics.

Yet again twas interrupted. A loud mechanical roaring came from outside. As one we turned to look beyond the broken panes. And twas an incredible sight! Twas Scott's own car speeding towards us, Robin my love behind the wheel!

Once more I scrambled hastily to win clear of a danger bearing down upon me. But he steered it away and directly into the evil mage, who in his startlement had not the thought to cast some spell that might save him. Robin drove the car into and over it, actually rolling over it with one of the tires.

"Marian!" he called through the window. "Make haste! Get in!"

I didst not argue. Already I couldst see stirrings beneath the car — even a blow as great as this couldst not kill it! I hurried into the vehicle, sitting sideways again, and Robin scarcely waited for me to close the door before shifting the lever attached to the wheel before his chest. We sped off, backwards, with a bump that hurt mine tail as we ran over our assailant a second time, and another, greater one as we left the building to the outside. The he shifted again, and we were moving forward at a goodly clip away from the damaged house.

"Art thou all right? Thou art not injured?" he asked once we were on our way.

"Nay. I am fine, although mine nerves art shattered beyond doubt. What of thee?"

"Struth, I am surprisingly uninjured, with the sole exception of a truly monstrous headache. But my bow was broken by the fall, I fear, and most of mine arrows lost."

"I've no doubt you can find another. I myself lost mine only dress!"

Robin's laugher lightened mine heart. "And that too can be replaced without difficulty, I'm sure. But where is our host? I am loath to leave him in yon mage's clutches, yet I saw him not when I drove in."

"Of that I know not, I fear. He hast become a mere cub, thanks to foul magic, and afterwards ran off."

For a few moments the car was silent save for its running. Then he said, "He shalt have to make do on his own, then. We canst not risk a search."

I nodded mine agreement but remained silent. A thought more pressing came to mind. "Robin, my love... How canst it be thy knoweth how to use one of these cars? For I know of a certainty I couldst not."

"Ha! Tis because thy kept thine eyes closed for the previous journey! But I watched how friend Sam managed it, and so was able to do it myself when the need arose."

The answer made sense on the surface of it, but the more I pondered the less satisfying it became. He drove far too skillfully to have learned merely by watching, and never once had Sam touched the gearshift. So how, then, didst Robin know its use?

The only thing I couldst think of was that perhaps, despite all earlier tests by Scott and mineself, some part of Gary didst survive. Twas a notion supported by his last words to the mage: "Fuck off and die." Twas scarcely a phrase Robin Hood might speak.

"Gary?" I asked softly, tentatively. But the bird beside me didst not respond. "Robin?"

"Yes, love?"

"Thankee for returning."

He leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek — quite literally. "What else couldst I do? Twas my Lady in the hands of that villain! So once more I rode in to rescue ye, the fine damsel in distress. Though tis a strange steed I rode in on!"

I blew him a raspberry. My mouth was well suited to them now, it seemed.

So. If twas a touch a Gary that hath emerged, twas only a touch. I shouldst have to wait and see what became of it, if anything at all did.

For some unknowable length of time I watched the lights of the city outside as we passed them by. For this time I felt no need to close mine eyes in fear of the remarkable speed. Perhaps the semidarkness quelled such worries. Or mayhap twas something else...

I had noticed an odd thing, now that the tumult was past. I still loved my Robin, and indeed found the thought of living without him painful to contemplate. Yet I couldst also recall being horrified to find myself in his embrace. Indeed, I couldst still remember all of my life ere Xanadu, and whilst it doth seem a strange life I knew it to be the true one I hath lived to that day. But I still most certainly was Maid Marian, ward of King Richard and future wife of the rogue, Robin Hood. It occurred to me that mine two selves somehow merged, melting together into a whole greater than the parts. It made the world new, yet familiar, as if I had by chance met a friend not seen in years. I thought it likely now that whilst I might still be surprised and awed by the things to be found on our future journeys, I wouldst never be shocked by them — no moreso, at least, than any other mortal wouldst be.

"Dost thou have a destination?" I asked at last.

"Nay, unless thou hast one to suggest. But my only thought hast been to put as much road between us and that thing as I am able ere we rest."

"Aim north, then." I got as comfortable as I was able, given the awful seat, and prepared myself for a long ride.

A strange sputtering jerked me awake from a sleep I hadn't realized I had begun. But I found myself curled against my mate, and straightened as the car began to move in fits and starts. "What's happening?" I asked sleepily.

"I know not. The car just started acting strangely. Forgive me for letting it wake thee."

"Of course thou art forgiven, love." I ran my fingers' hooflets through his plumage as I considered. "Steer it over to the side before another car hits us. How long hath I slept?"

Robin dutifully pulled to the shoulder just as the car gave one last gasp and died. "Merely an hour, perhaps more."

Verily it felt like it. Mine head was foggy and slow. It was a testament to how badly the day had worn on me that it was only after we had come to a complete halt that I thought to inquire regarding its fuel. To which Robin replied, "Fuel?"

This explained much.

"I had best explain as we walk," I told him.

Robin cocked his head. "Why not here? Tis as good a place as any to rest the night."

"Methinks thou still doth not realize how this land works, my love. Nay, do not be offended! I mean no slight! But this country, whilst strange to us both — and us both strange to it, ha! — doth be somehow less strange to me. I tell you of a certainty that shouldst we remain with the car here overlong that we will be found. If not that 'Kestagian Mage,' then by the sheriff or his men!"

Robin agitatedly ruffled is feathers. "Lawks! Doth he be everywhere?"

"In a way... come, love, let us not tarry. We canst still use our feet and hooves, each in turn, and mayhap find an inn. And along the way I canst tell thee a touch more about America, and a wonderful, terrible device called a gun."

The walk was not long in distance, but we took it slowly. Robin surprised me by accepting, in abstract at least, the police as a force for common good instead of a tool to oppress the masses. "There are good and evil men on this Earth," he said, "and just as some of the evil wilst gain power, so too wilst some good." He didst agree, then, the he would refrain from attempting to slay officers on sight in a kind of proactive self-defense. I felt this was likely to be the best I wouldst get from him, for the moment, and moved on.

Of the concept of guns he was much more skeptical. That someone couldst build something belike to a crossbow that shoots only the arrow's head at a speed capable of knocking a grown man off his feet, and still have the device fit inside his purse — twas ridiculous! Rifles he couldst believe in, if barely, but for all else he thought me to be jumping at shadows, and declared he wouldst need to see them ere he grew wary.

By then we had exited the highway and were walking city streets. I didst my best to ignore the rude stares of those passing us by in cars. Twas not easy, for I felt nearly naked, walking about in little more than my shift. Luckily, there was a refuge of sorts not far from the highway, a bright sign proclaiming "Denny's" for all to see. "That looks not like an inn," Robin commented when I headed for the entrance.

"True enow," I replied. "But tis likely they can direct us to one, and give us refreshment in the bargain."

"Refreshment! Thou art hungry again so soon?"

"Thou dost know horses," I said gaily at the door. "Always grazing!"

Inside, twas bright and cheery, though the odors that assaulted my muzzle were nothing I'd ever enjoy. The hostess at the counter looked up from her book with a smile that quickly faded as she beheld us. "Not more of them!" Twas clearly meant to be a mutter, but mine ears heard her clearly.

"Good eve, dear lady," Robin said charmingly. Either he hadn't heard her comment or he was ignoring it. "We wouldst enjoy a meal here, if thou canst offer one. And if ye perchance hath directions to an inn then we wouldst be much obliged to thee."

The young woman's face was blank for a few seconds as she puzzled through the speech. "There's a motel maybe four blocks that way," she said at last, pointing hopefully. "It's a Best Western, you can't miss it."

"Doth this 'Best Western' be an inn, then? I am unfamiliar with motels."

"Uh... yeah."

"Excellent! We shalt eat and be on our way, then."

The woman didst not bother hiding her grimace. She led us to a nearly deserted corner of the restaurant before removing herself. The only other patrons in the area were a deer and a white rabbit quietly sharing a table. They perked up noticeably when they spied our entry. With only the quickest of glances at each other they both waved for us to join them.

Robin smiled and strode immediately to their side. I was a touch more reluctant to dine with complete strangers, e'en ones that couldst well have sprung direct from Sherwood Forest itself. But the decision had been made, and I joined my love at their table.

We all took a few moments to check each other out. The rabbit was pure white and about the size of a child. His bright blue eyes stared at me inquisitively, and his hands looked oddly deformed, though I couldst not see them clearly enough to determine how. He wore no clothing. His companion, the deer, was man-sized, with an enormous ten-pointed set of antlers atop his brow that must make dwellings feel cramped. His ears were in constant motion, turning towards the slightest sound. I noticed that his hands were not unlike mine, with four digits bestowed with tiny hooflets on their ends. At first it seemed he, too, was unclothed, but after a moment I noticed he wore a pair of short brown pants that almost perfectly blended with his fur. The cream-colored fur on his chest, however, was uncovered.

"Hey there," said the deer in a soft voice by way of greeting, as I sat down slowly, mindful of my tail.

"Ah... hey," Robin returned uncertainly. I merely nodded my head to them.

"Hiya," the rabbit said. "I'm Phil, and this here's Jon."

"''Buck,''" his companion corrected him. "Given how things are, I might as well get used to that name."

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Good eve. I am Robin Hood, and this is Maid Marian."

The table was engulfed in silence. Finally Buck said, "Well, ''somebody'' had a sense of humor."

The waitress arrived then, a large woman who approached cautiously and stood an extra pace away from the table as we ordered food. Phil and Buck already had theirs before them, large salads each, and I asked one for myself. On the woman's recommendation Robin decided to try the french toast. "Tis just like the French scoundrels to claim the dish for their own, I daresay," he told her.

After she left, Phil enthused, "Sure is nice to see others affected by Xanadu's curse."

"Curse?" Robin asked.

"And why is that?" I said at the same time.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before. Everyone's afraid of us. Think we'll show some inhuman ability or instinct or power and ruin the place. Or maybe just infect them."

Buck added, "I hear there's honest-to-God werewolves roaming Florida, now." His eyes darted about briefly as if he expected one to appear.

Phil nodded. "Yeah, that sort of thing. So they shove us in this corner so we're out of the way, even though we're not like that. Even if we were, though, I for one sure don't see what people wouldn't want to become wererabbits!" He wiggled his long ears humorously for emphasis.

Robin trilled, and I giggled girlishly at his antics. "I didst think twas for privacy," I said.

"Yep. Theirs," the rabbit said. "They don't know how to deal with us, so they keep us out of sight and hope we'll go away. This place might not even have seated us if they didn't have a twenty-four-year-old managing it. Even I was able to intimidate him, and I'm a bunny!"

At this we all laughed. When it died away, Buck asked, "Do you know anything, then, about what the heck happened at Xanadu?"

I shook my head no. Robin said, "Only that there was a great riot. Dost thou have news to tell?"

Now twas Phil's turn to shake his head. "We just know what everyone else knows: everyone who was wearing a costume turned into what they went as. Complete with all the powers and abilities that go with it — I saw two superheroes just fly off, and I bet you can shoot an arrow like nobody else, Robin."

We both nodded thoughtfully. "Doth this be the curse that thou mentioned, then?" my mate asked.

"Tis. I mean, it is."

"And some people didst lose all sense of who they art," I said, trying hard not to look at the bird at my side. Phil blinked once, clearly surprised. Twas only then that I realized that he, like Scott, hath believed 'til then that my old knowledge was gone, and that we both entirely thought of ourselves as Robin Hood and Maid Marian. I suppose tis understandable, with our speech, to assume tis that way for us both. Such preconceptions might even come in useful, shouldst our enemy fall victim to them.

"Well, yeah," Phil managed after a few seconds. "I heard on the radio that how bad it is seems to depend on how well-defined the costume was as a character, and maybe how well it was played."

That made a great deal of sense. Robin Hood hath a great deal to build on, from films and books and lore. An archer unsurpassed and good with sword as well, he was witty, clever, friend to the oppressed and enemy of oppressors and lover to Maid Marian. Tis inevitable that a man taking that role at Xanadu wouldst entirely lose his old self.

And what of Maid Marian? Mine only thoughts to her character when I built the costume were that she wouldst be noble-born and in love with Robin, supporting him as best she were able. Such a relatively sparse description couldst well be why I had so much of mine old self left, even if twere more as just memories and less as thoughts and deeds.

"That's likely why you speak so... well, wrong," Buck said thoughtfully.

I looked at him hard. "Wrong? Tis Olde English, is all!"

But he shook his head. "Not really. I'm no history major — well, okay, I am, but it's for the wrong era to know what real Olde English is. But I know what you're speaking isn't it."

"Most likely," Phil chimed in, "you're speaking how the pre-curse you thought Olde English sounded. It's just another aspect of the mental change. It's not proper speech because you didn't truly think of your character speaking properly."

I considered. "That makes sense enough, I suppose. And what of you both? It doth not seem to have turned out too poorly for you."

Buck snorted in amusement, letting out a deerlike bleat. "That's only because you met us in a quiet, unpopulated area. Put either of us in a noisy crowd and I swear we'd have nervous breakdowns inside twenty minutes. Though I suppose if you meant physically we could have come out of it worse."

"Speak for yourself," Phil grumbled. "At least you have ''hands.'' All I have are these things." He held up his hands, and I couldst see them clearly for the first time. For they were not hands in truth but paws, if a bit more mobile that those on a real rabbit. His fingers hath all been drastically shortened, and the even coating of white fur made them seem to be covered by slick mittens. His fork was wedged between two fingers, mayhap the only way he couldst hold it. "It's going to be nearly impossible to do anything, now."

"It's your own fault for making the gloves like that," Buck pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. But what's fun for a few hours isn't always all that great when you have to live with it for the rest of your life."

I couldst certainly agree with him, there!

Robin spoke now, the first utterance in some while. "My Lady, I hath been considering. Much now makes sense that little didst ere this. But I dost thinketh we art bespelled."

I doth not be certain what mine expression was on hearing those words. Wide-eyed? Open-mouthed? But tis certain that I was shocked to the core. I hath all this day been wondering at the manner to best tell him that truth, and then he doth realize it for himself!

"I understand, now, why you called me by an untrue name. Yea, and friend Scott as well. The strange questions thou both put to me... Didst thou thinketh I wouldst forget? But now tis a weight off my mind, for I see at last the method behind thine seeming madness."

"Thou art not upset?" I asked warily. "That I didst not tell thee? Nor that you are not..."

"Myself? Nay, I am still mine own self!" His laugh echoed throughout the room. "What I was before matters little. And whether I be a day old or a century, I am still Robin Hood!"

The twas much as he had described, a great weight gone from mine mind. Twas wrong of me, not to have faith in my lover. Twould be much unlike my Robin to become morose at misfortune — especially when tis not his misfortune.

"You remember your old self now?" Phil asked.

"Not a whit!" Robin said cheerfully. "And whilst some shalt surely mourn the passing of friend Gary, I shalt miss him not at all."

Buck's ears twitched. "Yet you remember your old name."

"Tis only because others hath mentioned it to me." Robin waved his wing dismissively before turning abruptly to me. "But come, my dear Lady. Thou art at an advantage, I now realize. For thou knoweth mine previous name, and I reckon some of mine previous life as well. Yet I know naught of thine."

I squirmed uncomfortably. I couldst not bear the thought of his knowing that I was male only yesterday. Though judging by his reactions of a moment ago he couldst well just shrug off the news, twould be ''me'' who still must tell it — and before near-strangers, yet! I couldst feel myself blushing beneath my fur, mine ears growing pink at the very thought.

"Though I still retain many memories of myself ere Xanadu," I began, carefully choosing mine words, "methinks twould be best if thou simply calleth me Marian. For that is whose body I clearly wear now, and tis by that name that I think of myself."

"Aah, a secret, is it?" Robin crowed. "Well, tis mine calling to pry out secrets. I shalt make guesses, then. Let me see... a beauty like thine own wouldst have a beautiful name. Marian doth be the most beautiful, of course, but there are others. Gwennyth? Meridith?"

Mine ears positively glowed now, as I realized that he wouldst guess all women's names. That he wouldst never guess rightly wouldst save me from some embarrassment, but only at the cost of embarrassment of a different sort — a lonelier sort, for if no other felt either side of it then I must perforce be the only one who felt both sides at once.

Twas then that our food arrived at last, saving me from enduring more of Robin's guesswork. For a time conversation ceased as we enjoyed our meals. The food was not the freshest I've had, but twas tasty enough. Robin was quite pleased with his own, proclaiming that the French hath for once done something better than any Englishman ever had. Our friends had little left on their plates by then, but they took the opportunity to eat what was there. Phil had trouble with his fork, to no-one's surprise, and punctuated each time it slipped his grasp with mutters that we were all too polite to call him on for content.

"It's a good thing we're all herbivores here," Buck said. "I'm not sure what my reaction would be to eating with a wolf or a lion or something across the table. Too afraid of being the meal, I think."

"Be not hasty with thy judgments," Robin advised around a beakful of bread. "We didst stay briefly with a friend at his house, and he hath become part tiger. Yet we didst not fear for our feathers."

"I daresay that wouldst depend on the person," I pointed out. "Some may well try to eat such as me and thee. Each shalt need to be approached cautiously until we doth be sure of their minds."

"Struth."

"Why didn't you stay with your friend?" Phil asked. "I'm sure staying there would be safer, at least for the next few days until things settle down."

"Or stabilize, anyway," Buck said.

"We were chased from his home. Though not by him!" I added hastily at the looks upon their faces.

At that Robin didst launch into a telling of our escape from Xanadu, the ride to Scott's house, and the battle with the Kestagian Mage. This last came complete with pantomimed throws and shakes at the appropriate times. My mate didst tell the tale ten times better, and with a hundred times the verve, than surely I wouldst have.

"Are you sure he said he was a ''Kestagian'' Mage?" Buck asked, leaning forward.

"So he claimeth."

"Doth this be important?" I asked. "Hath thee dealings with such ere now?"

"Not as such, no. There were no such things before today, remember." Robin and I both nodded understanding — though it seemed even I needed reminding now and again. "But I do know of them. I was an avid gamer before this all happened, after all. Still am, I guess."

I nodded thoughtfully, seeing where this was headed. But Robin cocked his head, puzzled. "What sorts of games didst thou play? And what hath this to do with our adversary?"

"Role-playing games," Buck said. "People generally sit around a table and play characters on a quest, and a lot of actions, like trying to hit someone with a sword, are determined by dice rolled and used against the statistics of the wielder and the target. It's pretty complicated, and fairly irrelevant except for one thing.

"You see, these things come with tons of pre-made monsters to fight against at the gamemaster's choosing. And I remember seeing a listing for a 'Kestagian Mage' in one of the books."

Now this was news! "You know, then, what they art! And how to defeat them!" I exclaimed, clapping mine hands merrily.

"No. They're monsters for ''Traps and Treasures''. It's a D&D competitor, but it's not very good. The formulas are badly flawed, making most things either too underpowered to be useful or so overpowered as to be ridiculous. I've stayed away from playing it. But I was browsing through one of its rulebooks some months back, and I remember seeing an entry for 'Kestagian Mage.'"

"Dost thou remember ''anything'' about them?" Robin pressed. "Any knowledge you giveth wouldst be more than we have now."

The deer thought for a few moments. "Well, they're undead, for one thing, D&D's equivalent of a lich. So fire might do some damage, though I doubt it'd kill one. I remember that they had different powers and weaknesses than liches, too, but not what they are."

So. We didst know a bit more, then, of the one that pursueth us. Mayhap we had a weapon, mayhap not. But knowing it didst come from a game told me how best to proceed. On the morrow, however. Twas far too late now.

"Thankee for thine help," I said to them.

"No problem," Buck replied dismissively. "I didn't help all that much, after all."

"Nay, thou has aided us greatly," said Robin, "and provided fine company besides. Truly doth I call thee friends."

"Well, thanks. Ah, here's the check," Phil said, and paused. "Um, do you have the money to pay for this?"

"Of course," I said, and took a few silver pennies from mine purse. "This, methinks, shouldst suffice for such a meal as that."

"And a bit more, I'd say," Phil said slowly, eyeing the coins. "But most places don't take silver. That is real silver, right?"

"Of course."

"Right. I think I'd better pay for this one."

It hurt mightily to have our meals bought for us as if we were paupers. Still, I didst understand the need, though I didst give him the coins in exchange. In turn, he didst allow us to sleep in his trailer for the night, rather than seeking out an inn. Twas a grand gesture, as he wouldst of a certainty have been caught up in things had the evil mage tracked us down once more. Thus I didst give him a full gold shilling, for I judged the risk didst not be small.

His trailer was in the parking lot, the size of a small peasant's hut. Twas towed by a car much like Sam's, but newer. "Buck and I got together at my place in Tennessee a week ago," Phil explained, "and drove down here for the con. Now I hope to get far enough north that we'll be out of any large-scale quarantine that the feds might try to set up."

Twas a bit cramped inside at first, for it had only been built to sleep two. Phil graciously gave us the beds, taking the car's seat for himself since he was so much smaller. Buck was relegated to a handful of blankets in its cargo bed.

The next morning we ate at Denny's once more, for if the staff was less than congenial at least we were assured service. We didst not desire wasting time in searching about for a place that might do us better. The only difference from our orders of last night was that I joined my mate in having french toast. Horses eat grains, I reasoned, and breads art grains. Thus I thought the choice safe, and was indeed proved right. Twas a nice change from greens.

After we broke our fast we gathered at Phil's car to journey. In truth Robin and I rode in the trailer. We drove but a short distance before halting briefly, and then we were off once more. But again the trip was short, at least as measured in time, before we stopped. This time Phil and Buck entered the trailer with us.

"Well, here I think we part ways," Phil said. "You told us you needed to find a few things, so I'll let you off here. And until you get some of those coins exchanged for cash... well, this should tide you over for a few days." He pressed a handful of bills into Robin's wing.

"My thanks to ye, good sir," Robin said, and bowed. "Ye hath been the very essence of hospitality. But this is overmuch! Tis we who give out money to those in need!"

They laughed. "True enough," Phil said, and Buck nodded his agreement. "But Lady Marian, here, already gave me more in gold and silver than I just gave you. Keep that in mind, by the way; a few of these coins should last you a week or more. Don't waste 'em on trivial crap."

"Language, good sir! There doth be a Lady present."

"Ah. Yes. And to her I offer my apologies."

"Fret not. I hath no doubts that I shalt hear far worse in my life," I said. Then, "But why dost thou leaveth us? Art thou so eager to part ways?"

Buck shook his head emphatically. "No, it's got nothing to do with you, except maybe indirectly. As he said, you need a few things, so we're dropping you off here. But there's no way we're going in. Way, way too many people."

"I also still want to get ahead of any quarantine," Phil added, ears twitching anxiously. "I didn't hear of any on the radio — except for the convention center itself, that is — and it'd be kind of late to set one up now, but who knows? Nobody ever said the feds were smart."

When we stepped outside, we didst find ourselves in a truly enormous field of cars, set before a windowless building the size of a palace. I giggled. "Verily this doth be the perfect place to set us," I told them. "We shalt find all we need here." We said our fare-thee-wells and watched them drive off, and then made our way to the entrance of the mall.

Inside was a wonder, though moreso to Robin than mine own self. He stood a while gaping at the marvelous place even as people gaped at us. "Gawk later, love," I told him. "We shalt have time after our chores are over. How much money didst friend Phil give unto us?"

"This much," he said, handing over the bundle of folded paper.

All told, twas a full thousand dollars between mine hooflets. I wondered briefly if the rabbit had truly given us less than he gained, but I had been not exact regarding exchange rates e'en before this change, and with Marian's knowledge and memories blurring mine own twas impossible to say. Besides, they hath already gone, so twas little use worrying over the fairness of the exchange.

Still, I knew that this was no small sum. Twould surely tide us over for a week or two, or even three were we careful. I placed it all in my purse; Robin was a good man, and a wonder for gaining cash, but generally helpless when it came to holding onto it.

I still was displeased at the loss of my dress and having to walk about, I felt, barely clothed. Thus our first chores was to find me a new dress. And chore it was. The propetiers were little help. Those that didn't shy away from our approach couldst only show what they had, and what they had wouldst show more fur than cloth, as often as not. Not that Robin wouldst mind me trying one of them!

After a long search I relented, and tried one of the garments. The woman aiding me seemed to think it too dowdy, but at least it covered a decent amount of flesh. Much to my surprise — and Robin's, and most notably the merchant's! — upon fastening the last button the cloth seemed to melt and run along mine body. Its color changed from a brown that matched my fur to a light blue, with frills and lace. I couldst feel another layer of skirts unfurling about my legs, until in the end I wore a gown fitting for one of my station and a beautiful style that I much enjoyed.

A few trials proved that anything I wore wouldst behave in this way, though each dress changed in a different manner. Though Robin was sore disappointed at the loss of seeing me in modern garb, I was well pleased, for I thus wouldst not require custom tailoring in order to own suitable clothes. And since the dresses reverted upon removal, they were much simpler to store and lighter to carry.

The next task was to find Robin a new bow. After a few inquiries we found there was a good-sized sporting goods store in the mall. And amongst all the various balls and shirts and jackets was a wall full of equipment for hunting. Decoys, scents, camouflage, bullets and bows. Verily, quite a few bows.

"Hath thee any guns?" Robin asked the young lad behind the counter.

"Um... uh, no. No," he stammered. The boy looked like he hath been struck on the head, the way he looked at us was so peculiar. "We got ammo, but the chain won't let us sell the actual weapons inside a mall." He scratched his head in thought, looking so comically puzzled that I couldst not restrain the giggles that escaped mine lips. "What do you want with a gun, anyway? Robin Hood used... whatchamacallem... arrows."

"Indeed so! But... ah, well. Another time, perchance." Robin shrugged. "Since I am an archer, I doth require a bow. Bring out your finest, so that I might try a wing on it."

"Uh... wing. Right." In short order the lad — his name, according to the tag on his breast, was Howard, and he fit the name — set down two bows on the counter before us. One was of the familiar double-curved sort, though made of hard plastic instead of good English yew. The other was some contraption that didst seems more pulleys than bow.

"And what is that, then?" Robin cried. He picked it up and turned it about in his hands to marvel at.

"Um, it's called a, a compound bow."

"It doth look more belike to a ship's rigging than a weapon!"

"I think thou hath hit on it, love," I said. "Tis likely that is how twas devised."

Robin was shown how to change the tension on the bowstring. He immediately tested his might against the full strength of the draw, and found it to be to his satisfaction. Twas a great improvement over the old type he hath been used to, he declared. And when he learned it fired with strength greater than it drew, his mind was set. He wouldst never willingly use regular bows again.

We bought the compound bow, after some time testing to see if this one was indeed the best of the lot. We also didst buy some dozens of arrows. They were made of metal, which we thought odd. ("Wooden arrows sometimes shatter when shot from a compound bow, sometimes even in the air. They're just too weak to take the bow's power," Howard told us, which impressed us both all over again.) And lastly, we bought the tools and waxes and glues necessary to properly maintain the weapon, along with a variety of arrowheads. They were perforce necessary, but strangely not sold with the arrows.

Between Robin's purchases and mine own, we had used up over half of Phil's largesse. But there was still one more place of import, one more visit to make ere we could rest and eat our midday meal.

"This is a place of mystic research?" Robin asked doubtfully as he took in the mess. Thin rectangular boxes were stacked everywhere, interspersed liberally with puzzles and more esoteric items. "The clutter doth seem aright for a wizard's den, but the things look not mystical to mine eyes."

"Still, tis the place."

"Oh, my God! Awesome!" This from the person behind the counter. Short and thin, he was even younger than was Howard; I doubted a razor hath touched his chin more than a dozen times. "I'd heard about that convention yesterday, I wish I'd gone! I had the greatest costume for Halloween, too..."

"After all the worried, frightened looks we had gotten since yesterday, the boy's sheer envy was a welcome relief. Still, we had wandered long, and were weary. Twas a poor state in which to properly receive a fan.

Thankee. Truly, thankee," I said with a curtsey. "But we hath need of thine assistance."

"Really? Oh, God. This is so cool!" he gushed. "Oh, I'm Max. Pleased to meetcha! Welcome to The Gamesman!"

"Thankee. I -"

"So whacha need help with? An RPG, right? You guys became characters from a game! That's so cool! What system?"

"Uh..." I faltered to a halt. Max's enthusiasm was becoming overwhelming.

"'Traps and Treasures,'" Robin supplied.

"Yes. Thankee, love."

Max's face screwed up like he had bitten into a beef pie and found it filled with offal. "Why would you use ''that'' system? It's a piece of shit!"

Robin's voice was dangerously low when he said, "Watch thy tongue, child, lest I cut it off. Tis a Lady ye speak to!"

Max blanched when he realized Robin's eyes were hard and one wing rested on the knife at his side. "Uh, s-sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean... uh, this way!"

"Many thanks."

We found but three books under the 'Traps and Treasures' title, and one was a duplicate of another. Max didst apologize profusely for the lack of choice, telling us at length how the store was phasing out the system from its shelves. He acted as if afraid we wouldst grow offended at him for it. Twas a pitiful sight, like a puppy kicked and now afraid even as it was still eager to please.

We were well pleased to buy the two books and be away from him.

Lunch was a noisy affair, loud enough that my ears were laid flat as we ate. Robin had a beef burrito, whereas I needs must satisfy myself with one filled merely with beans and rice. I was unsure if horses ate such fare, and thus it was something of an experiment. So far it was turning out well enough. I was glad that vegetarian dishes hath become increasingly popular over the last few years, making the available dishes tolerably broad.

I watched him eat his food with envy, despite the disgustingly meaty odors wafting from his side of the table. Twas most unfair. Twas my idea, my work, my costumes, yet twas he who hath all the gains. Wit, skill with many weapons, and he couldst even fly, or at least glide for a bit. And what hath I? A major dietary restriction, hooves, and a dress. True, like my love Robin I had gained some skills, but embroidery was useless, as was the ability to efficiently run a castle staff (unless I didst somehow become manager of a large hotel, I reckoned). That I had a shapely body and had retained my own mind to some degree seemed little comfort.

All the walking about the mall's hard floors had made mine hooves sore. I sighed and rubbed my aching fetlocks, and tried hard to ignore the stares of fascinated and curious shoppers so I couldst concentrate on the books.

That was another good thing — though in reality it shouldst be considered the lack of a bad thing. I couldst still read. Robin, it turned out, couldst not.

Twas therefore up to me to pore over the volumes in search of information that might prove useful. The task was not quick, even once I found the area pertaining to Kestagian Mages, for what I needed was inconveniently spread out amongst multiple chapters.

"Listen to this," I told him, interrupting his inspection of the silk plant next to our table. "A Kestagian Mage is an evil wizard that doth be powerful enough to place his soul in a container for safekeeping. No reason doth be given for why it must be an evil mage, I shouldst add. At any rate, this maketh him effectively immortal. Ye canst do anything thy wish to him, but his essence will remain, and it casnt cast healing spells on whatever doth be left of his body, even were it merely ash."

"So it doth be unstoppable."

"Nay. Remember this doth be a game, and tis a poor game that doth not ever let the player win."

"I knoweth some games like that. And by all reports, this doth be a poor game."

I giggled. "Verily, verily. Thou shouldst see what such artifacts as the Rock of Rama-Lama or the Sceptre of Sidhe-Baup canst do! But tis not the case this time, or not in that way. The creature's weakness is his Aelpa. Which is what it thought you had, and I daresay it may be correct."

Robin cocked his head. "Oh?"

"Tis what the game hath named the vessel for the thing's soul. Tis always a diamond, and a mage who has a Kestagian's Aelpa canst do certain things to or with the creature. Cast spells through him like an artifact, using the Kestagian's magic rather than his own. Control him, bind him, or of course destroy him."

Robin's eyes turned thoughtful. "I canst see why our little friend wouldst be so eager to regain it, then. Let us see what I hath in the way of diamonds."

For one terrible moment, as Robin reached for the bag full of gems and jewelry at his side, I didst imagine he was going to simply dump the contents out on the table. But all he didst was to open the drawstring and poke through it with one wing, much like a child examining his marbles. Every now and again he wouldst snatch something from within, but it remained discretely in his palm.

At the end of it, twas a total of seven gems deposited on the tray. The smallest was a circle perhaps a quarter of an inch across; the largest was shaped like an elongated teardrop, and was nearly two inches in length.

"So, then," Robin mused aloud, "all we must do is find the correct diamond amongst these and smash it, and he shalt be undone?" He fingered the largest. "Twould be a true shame, were this the one."

"Nay. It wouldst not be."

"What? But of course it wouldst! See here, tis a gem unsurpassed!"

"Ye misunderstand me. This," I said, tapping the pages with a hooflet, "says the gem cannot be destroyed by normal means. Tis only vulnerable to magic."

"Then we find a mage..."

I shook my head. "All those at Xanadu wouldst have scattered ere now, and I know not of others. Another way dost be to restrain the enemy, and then maketh him swallow it. With his soul within his body once more, he canst be killed by whatever means thou desire."

"Dost thou have any ideas how to restrain a mage who doth not will it?"

I paused for long moments, frowning. "Nay. The game doth assume there wouldst be a mage in the party."

"Methinks it a foolish assumption," Robin said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Doth there be anything else told about him, or his Aelpa?"

"Quite a bit," I said, and flipped to a new chapter. "The Aelpa does many things, but two of real interest to us. The first is that it allows him to effortlessly assume a disguise, usually that of a normal human. Methinks that is why we doth not remember him from Xanadu; he looked like any other person with a lot of jewelry. But the main tidbit wouldst be how it is tracked by its true owner."

"Ah!"

"Yea, verily tis how he didst find us. If we like, we canst simply discard the diamonds and be done with him." I didst not like the notion of leaving an evil mage free to wreck what havoc he willed, but I felt the option needs must be exposed.

Robin's beak somehow managed a frown. "Nay... I want him dealt with. I didst not much like how he treated thee."

"Agreed, on both counts," I said. "But there is one very interesting thing to note, regarding the tracking. To wit, his accuracy in knowing his Aelpa's location doth be of ''inverse'' proportion to its distance from him!"

"I doth not be sure I understand thee..."

"I meaneth that when he is ten miles away from it, he canst pin its location down to the inch, for whatever good it does. He canst point straight at it," I said, and demonstrated. "At a mile, he knoweth where it is to within a foot. But at a thousand feet he canst only tell that it is somewhere in a ten-foot cube — and he canst not be certain it doth be at the center, either. And when he doth get to within a hundred feet of it -" and now I smiled "- he canst only tell that he is within a hundred feet. Beyond that he simply canst not get a better fix."

Robin thought on that for a few moment. "He still canst find it by traversing the boundary at a hundred feet," he mused. "He couldst find the center that way."

"True enough. I suspect that most of the people running this game assumeth it to be a gradual decrease in accuracy, with these measurements as milestones of sorts. But that doth not be how tis written, and I am unsure how the curse would translate it. But e'en if it shouldst be a sharp jump like thou noticed, our opponent must think of the tactic before he canst use it, and I hath not been too impressed by his cleverness yet."

"Nor I, now that ye mention it."

"Exactly. And thus I think I have a plan for how to handle this."

Robin sat up straighter in his chair and sent a sharp look my way. "''Thou'' hath a plan for battle? A woman?"

I blew him another raspberry. "Thou hath no cause to look so surprised, dear! I doth not be just some pretty mare to hang off your arm and embroider thine shirts for thee!"

"My apologies, dear Lady." Robin actually stood and bowed to me. "I didst not mean to mock. What, then, is thy plan?"

It didst not take long to tell, for twas quite simple. Robin pointed out a few flaws, made a few suggestions, and asked no small number of questions. But there was little preparation needed. We had only to wait.

That night, as the mall was near to closing, we casually strolled into one of the department stores and headed towards the rear. Twas there that the bathrooms were, but we didst avoid them for the same reason we avoided the changing rooms scattered about the store: workers were savvy enough by now to check those after hours. Instead we went to one of the janitor's closets. Robin picked the lock with some hairpins we'd bought earlier, and we slipped inside unnoticed. Other than a quick check to confirm that it didst not lock on the inside, our task was simply to keep silent and wait once more.

Twas very dark in there, and I actually dozed for some time. I was awakened by a feathery nudge. "They hath been gone for nearly an hour," he whispered. "I thinketh that be long enough."

I nodded, then remembered that birds hath poor night vision. He couldst not possibly see me. "We art lucky the mage hath waited this long. We shouldst hurry, now."

Without another word Robin cracked open the door to peer outside. It must have met his satisfaction, for the rest of him followed a moment later. By the time I blinked my eyes into adjusting themselves to the greater light — twas dim, but far brighter than the closet — Robin had already crossed the hall and was picking the yet another lock with a remarkable skill and silence.

I said a silent prayer to the Lord that the hinges wouldst not squeak as they moved.

They didst not. Robin entered the room beyond silently and unobserved whilst I stayed motionless outside, lest the clops of mine hooves give the game away. There was a cry from within, then a soft thump. My heart raced, hoping... and then Robin poked his beak back into the hallway. "Tis clear, now."

I entered, and took in the sight. A young woman in a security guard's uniform lay sprawled on the floor. Above her was a bank of monitors, numbering half a dozen. Notebook full of paperwork lined the shelves along one wall.

"Surely thou hath not..." I gestured at the woman.

Robin shook his head. "She merely sleeps, though her head shalt ache terribly on the waking."

I released a breath I didst not realize I held. What we had already done was bad enough, but killing her wouldst have made our future very tenuous indeed. "Tie her and gag her, then, whilst I search for the proper notebook."

There was no rope in the security center, of course, so he resorted to tying her hands with a power cord cut from a radio. Before he dragged her off to confine her in the same closet we'd just left, I made sure to take the nametag from her lapel. I wouldst need it soon.

Finally I didst find the correct page of the correct notebook. "Say nothing," I reminded Robin. He nodded, and I took a deep breath. This wouldst be the most difficult part of the night, other than the battle itself. If I made an error here, things wouldst likely turn out very poorly indeed — and an error was more likely than not.

I read the numbers from the page one more time, memorizing them. Then I reached for the phone and dialed.

"AmerAlarm," the woman on the other end said pleasantly. "This is Michelle Young. How can we help you?"

"Hey, hi Michelle. This is account 15539-2377. Could you put all the alarms and alerts on hold, please?" I concentrated furiously on the words as I spoke them. Twas a major effort to speak this way, without any Olde English at all seeping into mine speech.

"Certainly, ma'am. Do you have the pass code there with you?"

"That I do. It's, ah, 612934."

"Thank you," Michelle replied. "And how long do you want this to go for?"

"Until 0800," I said, making sure to use modern military time. I couldst feel sweat on my brow at the effort of saying things correctly. "We're going to be running some tests all night."

"All right, you're all set. And what is your name, please?"

"Sandy. Sandy Middleton," I told her, reading from the nametag.

"Got it. The police will not be called in on any alarms or alerts until eight o'clock tomorrow. Thank you for calling AmerAlarm, Miss Middleton!"

"Thanks a lot. Later!" I hung up the phone and dropped heavily into the chair. (Thankfully, there was an actual opening that didst fit my tail well.) Twas done! All those years of watching cop shows had just paid off. I wiped the sweat off and smiled reassuringly at my mate.

"I am most glad twas thee who made the call," he said gravely. "I could never have spoken as thou just hast."

I nodded wearily. We were lucky the guard had been a woman and we both knew it — even if it had pained Robin to strike her down from behind. And it had, I knew.

Once I had collected myself we left the room. I had to step over the broken broomhandle Robin had wedged beneath the closet's doorjamb on the way out to the store proper, but otherwise paid it no mind.

The sound of my hooves against the tile floor was eerie in the silence. The store was nearly all dark, with only patches of light at the exits and a few places within. It lent the place a downright spooky air. I hoped twould not be a long wait. I had waited enough that day, and was tired of it.

Thankfully, the department I was to wait in was well lit. It made sense enough — the jewelry section hath perhaps the highest-priced items in the store. And twould do well for the plan, as well. What it wouldst do for me was another matter.

We didst not bother to pick any locks, this time. We simply smashed the glass cases open. Somewhere, most probably back in the security room, alarms began to sound, but we ignored them. Twas a wondrously seductive feeling, to wreck such damage with neither restraint nor worry of interruption.

But twas not without purpose. The cases needed to be open for my plan to work, and the diamonds on display wouldst be difficult to find amongst all the broken glass. To make it harder yet we removed the dark felt trays at the cases' bottoms. We didst not take any jewelry, however, and it had not been easy at all to convince Robin of ''that'' aspect, for certain!

That done, twas nothing left to do. I kissed Robin's cheek once for luck, then he jogged away to take his position.

I may have been — I ''was'' — tired of waiting, but that didst not mean I was done with it. For a long time I simply stood there, or paced. Twas no small risk for me to be standing there in that pool of light like a worm on a hook.

For twas exactly the role I filed: bait. With me here, amongst the ruined cases, the mage wouldst have little choice but to believe we had hidden his Aelpa in amongst the more common diamonds. A purloined letter, of sorts. And thus he wouldst be forced to search the wreckage for it, leaving himself open for Robin to play ''his'' role.

We couldst only hope I was not killed before he could.

And so I stood, and paced, and worried. Mine thoughts and fears ran wild. Wouldst he come? Wouldst we know it? Or doth he have some magical means of arrival we wouldst never detect? Couldst we even defeat him, or was this a futile effort?

When doth the guard's relief show up?

My eyes widened as I realized I had failed to consider it. But the shifts were likely a mere eight hours, and the logical time for a changeover wouldst thus be midnight, not eight o'clock.

Desperately I wheeled about, searching for a clock. But there was none. No doubt there were some in with the electronics, but in here there were only... I fair to leapt at a case and rooted through the shards for a watch.

11:22

Two other watches confirmed the time. We wouldst have to leave immediately were we to avoid the police. I tossed them back in the case and turned to leave, mouth open to call out.

Twas at that moment that I heard a voice from the darkness, not twenty paces distant. "So ''there'' you are," it rasped, instantly setting my fur on end. "But where, oh where, is good Robin Hood, hmm?"

That question was the one thing we couldst not adequately hide or explain away. Twas our main weakness, and our one hope — that he wouldst be too concerned over recovering his Aelpa to ask it — had just failed. "He left," I said simply, and stepped to one side. I couldst barely see him in the gloom, but it was clear enough that he had, whether by luck or design, approached from exactly the opposite side from where Robin lay, putting me in the line of fire.

"Sir Robin ran away? Brave, ''brave,'' Sir Robin?" the Kestagian mocked, and stepped into the light. If anything, he looked worse than he had last night. His head looked soft, like the skull was still too badly broken to hold the correct shape. "Now why don't I believe that?"

He gestured suddenly, and I flung myself to the floor in a tangle of skirts as a bolt of lightning crackled by overhead. There was the crunching of glass under a booted heel as the mage jumped the cases to get at me again. "Robin!" I cried desperately as I scrambled to get up, or at least around a corner. Why hath he not fired?

The soft-edged whir of an arrow cutting through the air answered that. It hit the decaying mage with a meaty smack, embedding itself perfectly where the heart shouldst be. He staggered back, forced by the impact to steady himself against a case.

But he didst not fall. "''There'' you are, Robin!" he cried out almost joyfully. "I almost started to believe her!" His hand moved, and something I couldst not rightly see flew from him at my love. There was a squawk, and the mage trotted his way, leaving me on the floor.

"I was worried, oh yes I was," he enthused. I gathered my skirts and took the opportunity to get out of the maze of displays. "Worried I wouldn't be able to pay you back for last night. Wasn't nice, running me over like that! Now I have to kill you, you know. You do know that, right?"

I couldst hear Robin as he ran along the aisles. Why had the mage not fallen? I had managed to fashion a pouch for the diamonds and attach it behind the missile's broadhead tip. That shouldst have been the end of it! What went wrong?

There was another whir, another meaty impact. Again it was met with laughter, not anguish. There was a whoosh and a flash as the Kestagian tossed fire from his fingertips. "You never learn, do you? That whole ambush, just to futilely shoot me again! You're pathetic!"

More arrows, another fireball. But this time there was a cry of pain — from Robin. The mage was ''playing'' with him, enjoying drawing out the hunt because he hath proven himself invulnerable to anything we couldst throw at him. Robin was still running around the outer aisles; if he kept this up he wouldst make a complete circuit of the store.

I began to trot, myself, trying hard to get away and keep ahead of them. The sound of mine hooves gave me away, but twould be even worse were I caught in the midst of this battle with no viable weapon, and no available weapon wouldst suffice. The smooth tile was not the best for running on, especially in the state of near-panic that was growing within me. I fell to mine knees as I skidded around one corner.

I sobbed once as I got up. Twas such a ''good'' plan! It didst not deserve to fail! ''We'' didst not deserve it, didst not deserve to be toyed with and ''tortured'' by a sadist who is himself immune from harm! But deserving or no, twas happening.

Another slip, another skid, this one violent enough to knock mine muzzle against the floor. Twas well it did, for it didst also knock some sense back into my skull. I looked around. My flight had taken me to the department in which Robin had hid himself: men's shoes. I stifled a giggle at the incongruous thought that mayhap I shouldst try some on so I couldst run better.

Tis then I noticed the lump, nearly right in front of my nose.

I snatched it up instantly and bounded to my hooves. Twas no wonder Robin's shot failed! The enormous force of the compound bow had ripped the pouch away from the arrow when he released his shot. On another day it might have been humorous, like some cartoon, but tonight it just may spell our downfall. But if I couldst get the diamonds to Robin, perhaps we might still live to see the morrow.

Now I trotted through the store with a different purpose. But when I rounded the last corner, my hoped crashed. The Kestagian was no longer enjoying the chase; he was enjoying the ''catch.''

As last night, Robin was held suspended in midair, legs and wings spread wide. There didst not be any lightning running through his feathers, yet patches had been burned away during the chase, leaving ugly wounds on the flesh beneath. And even as I watched a number of feathers flew away from his body, seemingly of their own accord, trailing blood as they sailed off.

"Gonna pluck you, little chicken," the mage gloated, and Robin jerked as another handful was ripped bloodily away. "I'll rip you apart and serve you for dinner! Then I'll find my Aelpa and make glue out of your dear, ''sweet'' love!"

Robin's roar of anguish couldst not possibly be due merely to the painful loss of his plumage. I couldst see his muscles bunch as he tried to free himself from whatever force held him. But his captor only glanced his way and his limbs thrust themselves to full extension — and beyond. It didst look like wings and legs wouldst be flying away next, not merely handfuls of feathers, and a red haze clouded mine sight.

Mine jog turned into a run, a sprint. I cared not at all for the noise mine hooves made now as I bolted for them. The mage was still intent on the torture of Robin — of my love, my mate, my life! He didst not turn at the sound of mine approach, not until I was a bare handful of yards away.

Despite the surprise evident on his face he still managed to raise a hand in my direction. Twas not enough time to fire off whatever spell he had in mind, however, before I slammed into him, knocking him back with all the force and weight of a pony. The air whuffed from his lungs as he reeled on his feet, and mine fist shot out to punch him. The fist holding the diamonds.

Horses art not weak creatures, even when they walked on two legs rather than four. The hard hooflets that covered the last joint of each finger wouldst make for a debilitating blow to anyone, shouldst I ever put the full strength of mine arms behind them. Panicked by the pursuit and enraged over my lover's torture, twas devastating. Mine hand hit his chest and kept going through skin already weakened by rot and a multitude of arrows. His ribs crunched beneath my hooflets as I followed through.

The creature looked down at his chest, at mine arm plunging deep into it. Slowly he backed himself away, and my arm emerged from within with a sickening slurp. But I had released the pouch, and all the diamonds remained somewhere in his body.

The game book had said to return a Kestagian's soul to him by somehow making him swallow his Aelpa. But it had also stated that life wouldst return to the mage once it was "within his body." Now he screamed, wailing loudly as life returned to his body — the same body that had been shot a dozen times and sported a gaping hole in its chest. Blood poured from his wounds, thick and foul-smelling. He collapsed to his knees and clutched feebly at his chest, perhaps to remove the pouch. But twas thrust deep. He wailed one last time, eyes full of disbelief, and died in a growing pool of blood.

I stood for long seconds over the body. Gore matted my fur to the elbow and had spattered all over my brand new dress, but I had eyes only on the body before me. As hard as it may have been for him to believe his life was over, twas even harder for me to believe I had been the one to end it.

Then I didst remember Robin, and I rushed to his side. He looked unwell, indeed not much better than the Kestagian. Patches of feathers had been burnt or ripped away, and he moved stiffly as he regained his feet.

"Is it dead?" he asked, his words sounding strange because he didst not dare move even his beak overmuch.

"Tis," I said, and kissed him full on the mouth. Neither beaks nor muzzles were well designed for it, but I didst manage. "And we art not. We hath won, love!"

"Wonderful. You did wonderful, dear."

"I daresay. Tis good to see you play the role of damsel in distress for once!"

He tried to give me a raspberry this time, but beaks art not built for them like muzzles. He settled for rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, but I fear we must... must away from this place." Robin swayed on his feet momentarily. "I need a place to recover."

"Mayhap we canst find a friendly inn this night," I suggested.

"Good. Yes. Then we canst plot out... our future plans. What doth we do about all those poor you told me about. Those ones without homes to put their fridges in."

I let him lean on me as we made our way to the emergency exit where we had stored our day's purchases. "Dost thou really think thou canst help so many people? Tis a noble goal, but..."

"I know not! Tis why I must plan! But I shalt say this for certain," he said, and even wounded he managed to trill an enthusiastic laugh, "I doth be Robin Hood! If anybody canst help the poor, tis I!"

I giggled, and poked him in the ribs. "Do not forget his sidekick, lover, and wife!"

"Ack! Mercy, my Lady! Nay, I shalt never forget thee!"

I smiled. "Good."

We stepped outside together, in each other's arms, and left the wailing of alarms at our backs.

<comments />

{{author endnote|'''Author's Comments'''<p>

I had helped Bryan work out some of the rules and differences between it and No More Fakes, a predecessor universe with a similar mass transformation at its center. But even after he posted the first Xanadu story, it was quite some time before I did this one. Bryan pretty much pressured me into making it, though, and suggested using one of my fursuits as the basis for it. It didn't take long for me to decide which one to use, but it did take a week or two of thinking before I managed to find a plot that was more than, "Ack, I'm no longer me, what will I do with my life now?" Once I managed that, though, the story took only a little while to write (well, for me it was only a little while), about a month. Other than the slight embarrassment of it being a transgender story (and the obvious corollary that I own and wear a fursuit of a female character), though, I'm happy with it.}}

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest}}

Loving Halloween

2007-09-18T02:42:54Z

Xodiac: added author's comments

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

Chris loved Halloween. It's one of the only times when he got to see people acting kinda goofy and not worrying about who sees.

It's also one of the only times he could put on his Werewolf costume in public. It was beautifully done, with real animal hair, glowing red eyes, mobile jaw, and a tail that he could halfway control by subtle hip movements. He was quite proud of it, having made it himself.

Chris might wear it in public only rarely, but he wore it around the house fairly often after work. He was one of those strange individuals who wished they were something else. He'd wanted to be a werewolf since he saw his first horror film. The grace and power of the form were very alluring.

Halloween night he went trick-or-treating around the area. His neighbors didn't mind that someone in their twenties was begging for candy, they gave to anyone in costume. Indeed, the entire area really got into the Halloween Spirit each year, using home-made decorations and strange items. No store-bought plastic miniature gravestones ever appeared on his block; instead people would rent real ones. His next door neighbor had a real skeleton and coffin in her front yard. And everybody was in costume.

So it was hardly a surprise when a sorceress answered the door.

"Hey, nice," Chris said as she opened the door.

"You like it?" she asked, posing a little. Then she reached for the bucket filled with chocolate.

"I do indeed." And he didn't like just the costume, either. Her body filled the low cut dress admirably. He grinned as she dropped his favorite chocolate bar — full-sized, no less — into his bag.

"You should see me with a wand!" she said proudly as she twirled the one in her fingers like a baton.

The whirling wand slipped from her fingers. She made a grab for it as the centrifugal force sent it flying at Chris' face. She missed. He had barely realized what had happened before it hit.

Chris blacked out for a moment. He knew it was only a moment because he was still standing in front of her. But he'd felt the impact through the mask. That wand must be made of lead, he thought, slightly dazed.

The wand's owner had her fingers curled into her mouth in the classic feminine "oops" pose. "You all right?" she asked timidly.

"Yeah, fine."

"Sorry about that," she said as she retrieved the wand from the porch. "Have another Hershey bar. Compensation."

"No thanks. I couldn't," he said, waving it off.

"Please."

He shrugged and took the proffered chocolate. "Thanks."

"You sure you're all right."

"Positive. Have a happy Halloween," he called as he began to walk to the next house.

Safely out of sight between houses he looked in his candy bag. "Chocolate," Chris grumbled. ''Doesn't anyone ever realize that dogs and chocolate do'' not ''mix?'' He sighed. ''Oh well. It'll be useful trading material.''

He started towards the next house. His tail began to wag again as he saw some kids in costume. He loved Halloween. it was one of the only times he could be himself in public and not be noticed. As the only werewolf to ever come "out of the closet," as it were, he got a lot of people in his face.

Still, the claws sometimes got irritating, as did the looks he got. Being born a werewolf wasn't any easier today than in his grandfather's time, from what he gathered.

He sighed deeply as he shuffled through a leafy lawn. And one more reason to be something else had presented itself. That sorceress was just one of many beautiful women whom he could never date.

If only he'd been born human...

<comments />

----

'''Author's Comments'''

This story was one of my earliest, and was conceived on (of course) Halloween. The miracle is that it was also written on Halloween. It's one of the few stories I've written that was typed up, start to finish, in less than one day. I managed to send this out to the public with about an hour left to the holiday, at least on the pacific coast where I lived. I've always enjoyed little zingers at the end of a story, or twist endings, and this one kind of has both. This is a favorite of mine, short and sweet. I've been told it's a bit too short and vague by some people, but to me it tells you all you need to know, shows you all it needs to show.

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Loving Halloween}}

The Fugitive

2007-09-18T02:36:07Z

Xodiac: Protected "The Fugitive" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I can hear the helicopter getting closer. Its blades give me plenty of warning, and I'm safely hidden behind a fast food dumpster long before its sleek, featureless black body passes low overhead.

I smile as it turns and is hidden by a building. That is the only celebration I allow. It is, after all, a small victory, like the others I've won tonight. And last night, and for many nights before that.

I slip out with the sound of the chopper still fading. I need to stay on the move, and pick my resting places very carefully. There are people on foot looking for me as well, and if they're in the area a mere dumpster won't escape inspection.

This is a fairly small town, luckily, and it is late. The streets are nearly deserted. From time to time a car approaches more closely than is comfortable, but there are bushes to crouch behind, culverts to dive into, trees to scramble up.

Damn. I should have looked in that dumpster while I was there. Now I have to find another place to find food. There. A house with newspapers piled on the driveway. There's only a few, so the owners haven't been gone long. The food shouldn't be too spoiled. And it might be a good place to spend the night as well.

I prefer to rest in a house. It's more comfortable than most other options. But more importantly, they don't go searching for me there.
Searching door to door would be too invasive. They can't just declare martial law. This is my main advantage.

But they have advantages of their own. I cannot seek shelter from anyone, because they might be one of them, or innocently turn me over to my death. Worse than death. I know what it is they do, transforming the innocents they capture into hideous monsters for their own use.
There's no way I will let them do that to me.

But what ''can'' I do, then? I ponder the question as I eat my third can of ravioli. The only answer I come up with is to keep running.

I angrily throw the half-full can against the wall, spattering tomato sauce all over. Damn it! Why can't they leave me alone? They say I'm a dangerous criminal; there are pictures of me everywhere, even here.
But the only crime I can be honestly accused of is theft. They do this to make someone more likely to turn me in to them. Make me disappear, changed into something unbearable.

The room is suddenly awash in light. The helicopter! Damn, damn damn it! In my preoccupation I didn't notice it as it neared. Now I can hear it thundering directly overhead.

How did they find me? Did I hide imperfectly from a car, or did a neighbor hear the faint tinkle of glass when I broke in? It doesn't matter, they're here now, but still I wonder.

I run from room to room, searching frantically for a place they wouldn't possibly search, and find none. I look for a weapon, and find none more deadly than the knives in the kitchen. No matter, I'll fight tooth and nail if I have to, I won't be taken!

The front door downstairs crashes inwards. I take the knife and hide behind the door. Running won't work with the helicopter to direct the people on the ground. With a bit of luck, I can eliminate them. Then I can worry about evading the chopper.

I can hear their heavy boots on the stairs. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what is to come. Closer... closer... Here they come... now!

{{Separator|stars}}

"They finally got him."

Agent Graham looked up at his partner. "Really? In custody, or just found?"

Agent Brewer grinned. "In custody. Bagged and tagged and on his way here." He frowned. "Took out six men before they got a tranq into him."

Graham's jaw dropped. "''Six?'' But what about their armor?!"

Brewer shook his head. "It was just kevlar, meant to take bullets, not claws. He tore through it pretty easily."

Graham shook with rage. "Damn him!" Heads in the office turned, but he didn't care. "Damn him and the bastard scientists! Who the hell needs a human-tiger cross, anyway?"

Brewer laid a hand on his partner's shoulder. Graham managed to get himself back under control, although the anger still burned in his eyes. "Geneteched supersoldiers are a good moneymaker, even if they are illegal. You know that. But he was the last of this batch."

"Good. I hope they hang the guys who did that to him." Graham paused.
"I wonder why he ran away from the reclamation crews, anyway."

Brewer shrugged. "Some folks just would rather not be human, I guess."

<comments />

----

'''Author's Comments'''

According to my notes, this story came about from a brainstorming session between my good friend Phil Geusz. His muse was running a little dry and I was trying to inspire him with story ideas, and came up with this. He liked it well enough to think it should be written, but not enough to do it himself. He persuaded me to take it on myself. Looking back, he was probably right. This is far from my favorite story. The twist at the end simply isn't big enough to really throw readers for a loop, and the rest of the tale is rather mediocre as well.

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Fugitive, The}}

The Fugitive

2007-09-18T02:35:54Z

Xodiac: added author's comments

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I can hear the helicopter getting closer. Its blades give me plenty of warning, and I'm safely hidden behind a fast food dumpster long before its sleek, featureless black body passes low overhead.

I smile as it turns and is hidden by a building. That is the only celebration I allow. It is, after all, a small victory, like the others I've won tonight. And last night, and for many nights before that.

I slip out with the sound of the chopper still fading. I need to stay on the move, and pick my resting places very carefully. There are people on foot looking for me as well, and if they're in the area a mere dumpster won't escape inspection.

This is a fairly small town, luckily, and it is late. The streets are nearly deserted. From time to time a car approaches more closely than is comfortable, but there are bushes to crouch behind, culverts to dive into, trees to scramble up.

Damn. I should have looked in that dumpster while I was there. Now I have to find another place to find food. There. A house with newspapers piled on the driveway. There's only a few, so the owners haven't been gone long. The food shouldn't be too spoiled. And it might be a good place to spend the night as well.

I prefer to rest in a house. It's more comfortable than most other options. But more importantly, they don't go searching for me there.
Searching door to door would be too invasive. They can't just declare martial law. This is my main advantage.

But they have advantages of their own. I cannot seek shelter from anyone, because they might be one of them, or innocently turn me over to my death. Worse than death. I know what it is they do, transforming the innocents they capture into hideous monsters for their own use.
There's no way I will let them do that to me.

But what ''can'' I do, then? I ponder the question as I eat my third can of ravioli. The only answer I come up with is to keep running.

I angrily throw the half-full can against the wall, spattering tomato sauce all over. Damn it! Why can't they leave me alone? They say I'm a dangerous criminal; there are pictures of me everywhere, even here.
But the only crime I can be honestly accused of is theft. They do this to make someone more likely to turn me in to them. Make me disappear, changed into something unbearable.

The room is suddenly awash in light. The helicopter! Damn, damn damn it! In my preoccupation I didn't notice it as it neared. Now I can hear it thundering directly overhead.

How did they find me? Did I hide imperfectly from a car, or did a neighbor hear the faint tinkle of glass when I broke in? It doesn't matter, they're here now, but still I wonder.

I run from room to room, searching frantically for a place they wouldn't possibly search, and find none. I look for a weapon, and find none more deadly than the knives in the kitchen. No matter, I'll fight tooth and nail if I have to, I won't be taken!

The front door downstairs crashes inwards. I take the knife and hide behind the door. Running won't work with the helicopter to direct the people on the ground. With a bit of luck, I can eliminate them. Then I can worry about evading the chopper.

I can hear their heavy boots on the stairs. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what is to come. Closer... closer... Here they come... now!

{{Separator|stars}}

"They finally got him."

Agent Graham looked up at his partner. "Really? In custody, or just found?"

Agent Brewer grinned. "In custody. Bagged and tagged and on his way here." He frowned. "Took out six men before they got a tranq into him."

Graham's jaw dropped. "''Six?'' But what about their armor?!"

Brewer shook his head. "It was just kevlar, meant to take bullets, not claws. He tore through it pretty easily."

Graham shook with rage. "Damn him!" Heads in the office turned, but he didn't care. "Damn him and the bastard scientists! Who the hell needs a human-tiger cross, anyway?"

Brewer laid a hand on his partner's shoulder. Graham managed to get himself back under control, although the anger still burned in his eyes. "Geneteched supersoldiers are a good moneymaker, even if they are illegal. You know that. But he was the last of this batch."

"Good. I hope they hang the guys who did that to him." Graham paused.
"I wonder why he ran away from the reclamation crews, anyway."

Brewer shrugged. "Some folks just would rather not be human, I guess."

<comments />

----

'''Author's Comments'''

According to my notes, this story came about from a brainstorming session between my good friend Phil Geusz. His muse was running a little dry and I was trying to inspire him with story ideas, and came up with this. He liked it well enough to think it should be written, but not enough to do it himself. He persuaded me to take it on myself. Looking back, he was probably right. This is far from my favorite story. The twist at the end simply isn't big enough to really throw readers for a loop, and the rest of the tale is rather mediocre as well.

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Fugitive, The}}

Free

2007-09-18T02:30:51Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

John Maines looked sadly into the room again. The computer, now slightly obsolete, was in one corner, next to a small bookshelf. Both had remained untouched for a year except for his wife's dusting. In the other corner was the ham radio, Zach's main hobby, equally preserved.

Posters of his son's two favorite topics — wildlife and heavy metal
— mixed incongruously on the wall. Zach was a veritable encyclopedia on either subject.

The bed was made, the clothes neatly hung in the closet. Mary had kept the room far cleaner than Zach ever had, a thought that would lift him from his depression whenever it came. Then the inevitable addition
arrived: ''When he was alive.''

His smile immediately disappeared. Zach had been killed a year ago when the steering had failed on the truck he had been driving, causing a nasty crash.

John's grief had been bad enough. The guilt he felt, though, was absolutely terrible. The truck had had sloppy steering for a while, and just before the crash it had gotten pretty bad. If he had taken the damned thing to the shop when Mary had told him to, his son would still be alive.

John blamed himself, and it was eating him from the inside out. He rarely did anything anymore except to go to work and come back. In neither place did he talk much anymore. And what it was doing to his marriage...

"John! John! Come here, quick!"

John immediately ran for the stairs. His wife was not one to rush things. If she said it was urgent, it was.

A few seconds later, he was next to Mary in the family room, looking at a scene he never would have believed if someone had told him of it.
Bowzer, the pet dog, was sitting quietly at the large glass doors, looking out. But it was what he was looking at that was so incredible.

There was a wolf outside.

''Right'' outside. If the door was opened, they could touch it without leaving the house. It was just sitting there, looking at the dog looking at him through a pane of glass.

"Holy crap..." John whispered. They lived in suburbia, not a rural area. There was woods bordering their backyard, but the nearest
''forest'' was nowhere near.

"Bowzer's not barking," Mary pointed out, her voice a whisper as well. "He barks whenever another dog comes within 30 feet of him. But he's not, now."

It took John a moment to realize she was correct. It made the scene feel even more surreal.

The wolf turned his head and looked at the pair of humans. John saw a hint of...something...in its eyes. Then it opened it mouth and began to bark.

The sounds immediately sounded odd to John. He looked at his wife, and saw a worried expression on her face as well. The barking was wrong. ''No, wait. Not wrong. Unnatural.'' And then it clicked.

"Oh my God."

He'd not heard that sequence for a year. Before that, he had heard it often. John raced upstairs, to the room he had left only a minute earlier. He strode quickly to the bookshelf, and looked the titles over as fast as he could. "Whereisit, whereisit, dammit, whereisAHA!" He pulled the book from the shelf and ran back downstairs.

"What is going on?" Mary asked, the entire episode making her nervous.

"Morse code," John said succinctly. He opened the ham radio book to the table of Morse code symbols and quickly checked them. "K2GU was Zach's ID." It checked.

"What are you saying?"

John ignored the question and walked over to the door. Bowzer gave him a quick look and whine, then resumed observing the wolf. The wolf had stopped barking when he approached.

John sat cross-legged next to his dog. "Zach? That you?" Its tail wagged and it opened its mouth in what could only be described as a canine grin.

John couldn't help it. He broke down. "I'm sorry. Oh God I'm so sorry. It was my fault..."

There was another series of barks. John jerked back to life and looked in the book. His tears were still coming, if slower; the task of translating took his mind off his grief and guilt. "No, I'm ''not'' wrong," he said forcefully, looking up from the book. "If I'd taken it into the shop..."

More barking interrupted anything he would added to that. "`Not guilty'," John said out loud when he had translated.

"He always did like Perry Mason," his wife chuckled, wiping her eyes.

John hesitated, then he reached up and pulled the door open. The wolf... Zach... didn't run. John removed his hand from the door and reached out. After a moment, Mary joined him in rubbing their son's fur. After a few seconds of this, it retreated a few steps and resumed the rhythmic barking.

"`Don't worry. Be happy.'," John told his wife as he translated.
Zach nodded his lupine head once. Then he turned and trotted towards the woods.

"Wait!" John cried as he stood and ran a few steps after his son.
He saw Zach stop, hesitate, then turn and walk back to them. "Please.
Don't leave."

Zach tilted his head to the side, the question too obvious to ask.

"I don't want you to leave. If you leave, you'll be..." John swallowed; he had to concentrate to keep from breaking up again.
"...gone."

Zach responded with another series of barks, his longest. Then he licked his father's hand, and trotted off.

"What'd he say?" Mary asked him.

John looked up from the book in his hands in time to see the wolf, at the edge of the woods, look back at him. Then it was gone.

"What'd he say?" Mary repeated, a little more urgently.

John tore his eyes from the spot Zach had entered the woods. He looked at her, really looked, for the first time in a year. He saw the eyes, wet from her own tears. But there was something else. There was a deep concern for him that he had noticed for a year now but never really ''seen'' until now.

"Uh. `Don't grieve. Live. I'm not dead. I'm free.'"

Mary blinked. "Oh," she said, softly.

John pulled her into a close hug. "C'mon. Let's go inside. Let's talk." Mary just nodded. John entered the house with his wife, and closed the door.

And began to heal.

<comments />

----

'''Author's Comments'''

This was one of the earliest stories I wrote. I'm not entirely sure how early, but I ''think'' only ''Trickster's Gold'' came earlier. I'm still happy with this, though it's a bit too sappy for my tastes these days.

K2GU is my father's ham-radio call sign. I'm told they're a lot longer these days, 6 or 8 alphanumerics long or thereabouts. But I didn't want to use some random code and someday have an issue with its real-life owner.

This story was actually published, sort of. Some high-schooler found it and asked permission to publish it in his school's ham-radio club newsletter. I said sure, so long as he made sure to include my name as author. Looking back, that was a pretty stupid condition — if he was good enough to ask for permission, he wasn't going to leave off the author's name. He was supposed to mail me a copy of the newsletter, but he never did, so unfortunately I don't remember who it was who made the request or where the school was.

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Animal]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Free}}

Free

2007-09-18T02:29:32Z

Xodiac: added author's comments

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

John Maines looked sadly into the room again. The computer, now slightly obsolete, was in one corner, next to a small bookshelf. Both had remained untouched for a year except for his wife's dusting. In the other corner was the ham radio, Zach's main hobby, equally preserved.

Posters of his son's two favorite topics — wildlife and heavy metal
— mixed incongruously on the wall. Zach was a veritable encyclopedia on either subject.

The bed was made, the clothes neatly hung in the closet. Mary had kept the room far cleaner than Zach ever had, a thought that would lift him from his depression whenever it came. Then the inevitable addition
arrived: ''When he was alive.''

His smile immediately disappeared. Zach had been killed a year ago when the steering had failed on the truck he had been driving, causing a nasty crash.

John's grief had been bad enough. The guilt he felt, though, was absolutely terrible. The truck had had sloppy steering for a while, and just before the crash it had gotten pretty bad. If he had taken the damned thing to the shop when Mary had told him to, his son would still be alive.

John blamed himself, and it was eating him from the inside out. He rarely did anything anymore except to go to work and come back. In neither place did he talk much anymore. And what it was doing to his marriage...

"John! John! Come here, quick!"

John immediately ran for the stairs. His wife was not one to rush things. If she said it was urgent, it was.

A few seconds later, he was next to Mary in the family room, looking at a scene he never would have believed if someone had told him of it.
Bowzer, the pet dog, was sitting quietly at the large glass doors, looking out. But it was what he was looking at that was so incredible.

There was a wolf outside.

''Right'' outside. If the door was opened, they could touch it without leaving the house. It was just sitting there, looking at the dog looking at him through a pane of glass.

"Holy crap..." John whispered. They lived in suburbia, not a rural area. There was woods bordering their backyard, but the nearest
''forest'' was nowhere near.

"Bowzer's not barking," Mary pointed out, her voice a whisper as well. "He barks whenever another dog comes within 30 feet of him. But he's not, now."

It took John a moment to realize she was correct. It made the scene feel even more surreal.

The wolf turned his head and looked at the pair of humans. John saw a hint of...something...in its eyes. Then it opened it mouth and began to bark.

The sounds immediately sounded odd to John. He looked at his wife, and saw a worried expression on her face as well. The barking was wrong. ''No, wait. Not wrong. Unnatural.'' And then it clicked.

"Oh my God."

He'd not heard that sequence for a year. Before that, he had heard it often. John raced upstairs, to the room he had left only a minute earlier. He strode quickly to the bookshelf, and looked the titles over as fast as he could. "Whereisit, whereisit, dammit, whereisAHA!" He pulled the book from the shelf and ran back downstairs.

"What is going on?" Mary asked, the entire episode making her nervous.

"Morse code," John said succinctly. He opened the ham radio book to the table of Morse code symbols and quickly checked them. "K2GU was Zach's ID." It checked.

"What are you saying?"

John ignored the question and walked over to the door. Bowzer gave him a quick look and whine, then resumed observing the wolf. The wolf had stopped barking when he approached.

John sat cross-legged next to his dog. "Zach? That you?" Its tail wagged and it opened its mouth in what could only be described as a canine grin.

John couldn't help it. He broke down. "I'm sorry. Oh God I'm so sorry. It was my fault..."

There was another series of barks. John jerked back to life and looked in the book. His tears were still coming, if slower; the task of translating took his mind off his grief and guilt. "No, I'm ''not'' wrong," he said forcefully, looking up from the book. "If I'd taken it into the shop..."

More barking interrupted anything he would added to that. "`Not guilty'," John said out loud when he had translated.

"He always did like Perry Mason," his wife chuckled, wiping her eyes.

John hesitated, then he reached up and pulled the door open. The wolf... Zach... didn't run. John removed his hand from the door and reached out. After a moment, Mary joined him in rubbing their son's fur. After a few seconds of this, it retreated a few steps and resumed the rhythmic barking.

"`Don't worry. Be happy.'," John told his wife as he translated.
Zach nodded his lupine head once. Then he turned and trotted towards the woods.

"Wait!" John cried as he stood and ran a few steps after his son.
He saw Zach stop, hesitate, then turn and walk back to them. "Please.
Don't leave."

Zach tilted his head to the side, the question too obvious to ask.

"I don't want you to leave. If you leave, you'll be..." John swallowed; he had to concentrate to keep from breaking up again.
"...gone."

Zach responded with another series of barks, his longest. Then he licked his father's hand, and trotted off.

"What'd he say?" Mary asked him.

John looked up from the book in his hands in time to see the wolf, at the edge of the woods, look back at him. Then it was gone.

"What'd he say?" Mary repeated, a little more urgently.

John tore his eyes from the spot Zach had entered the woods. He looked at her, really looked, for the first time in a year. He saw the eyes, wet from her own tears. But there was something else. There was a deep concern for him that he had noticed for a year now but never really ''seen'' until now.

"Uh. `Don't grieve. Live. I'm not dead. I'm free.'"

Mary blinked. "Oh," she said, softly.

John pulled her into a close hug. "C'mon. Let's go inside. Let's talk." Mary just nodded. John entered the house with his wife, and closed the door.

And began to heal.

<comments />

----

'''Author's Comments'''

This was one of my earliest stories I wrote. I'm still happy with it, though it's a bit too sappy for my tastes these days.

K2GU is my father's ham-radio call sign. I'm told they're a lot longer these days, 6 or 8 alphanumerics long or thereabouts. But I didn't want to use some random code and someday have an issue with its real-life owner.

This story was actually published, sort of. Some high-schooler found it and asked permission to publish it in his school's ham-radio club newsletter. I said sure, so long as he made sure to include my name as author. Looking back, that was a pretty stupid condition — if he was good enough to ask for permission, he wasn't going to leave off the author's name. He was supposed to mail me a copy of the newsletter, but he never did, so unfortunately I don't remember who it was who made the request or where the school was.

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Animal]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Free}}

User:Xodiac

2007-09-18T02:19:10Z

Xodiac: Protected "User:Xodiac" [edit=sysop:move=sysop] [cascading]

Xodiac has been a reader and writer of transformation fiction since 1997.

==Stories==

*[[Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, two people must dodge someone trying to kill them even as they try to come to grips with their new bodies — and the new feelings they suddenly have for each other.

*[[Free]]
:Even the most overwhelming grief can be overcome, with the help of the right visitor.

*[[The Fugitive]]
:The men with guns are coming. It's time to fight or flee.

*[[Loving Halloween]]
:The grass is always greener on the other side, as one man discovers while doing a little above-age trick-or-treating.

*[[Refamiliarization]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, a man goes to Kubla Con as his RPG character, and finds he's locked himself into a new career.

*[[Replay]]
:Set in [[User:Posti|BobStein's]] [[:Category:Walk-A-Mile|Walk-a-Mile]] universe, one patron stops in a strange new store, where he just might find exactly what he needs.

*[[Stable Home Life]]
:A tenant finds that his new digs aren't quite the great deal he thought they were.

*[[Ten Seconds]]
:A short mood piece, brief enough that a summary would essentially spoil it.

*[[Where's the Beef?]]
:Set in Bill Hart's [[:Category:Spells_R_Us|Spells 'R' Us]] setting, a frat brother goes to the wrong place for a costume. Somebody's sure in for a surprise!

[[Category:Author]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Xodiac}}

Free

2007-09-18T02:18:55Z

Xodiac: Protected "Free" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

John Maines looked sadly into the room again. The computer, now slightly obsolete, was in one corner, next to a small bookshelf. Both had remained untouched for a year except for his wife's dusting. In the other corner was the ham radio, Zach's main hobby, equally preserved.

Posters of his son's two favorite topics — wildlife and heavy metal
— mixed incongruously on the wall. Zach was a veritable encyclopedia on either subject.

The bed was made, the clothes neatly hung in the closet. Mary had kept the room far cleaner than Zach ever had, a thought that would lift him from his depression whenever it came. Then the inevitable addition
arrived: ''When he was alive.''

His smile immediately disappeared. Zach had been killed a year ago when the steering had failed on the truck he had been driving, causing a nasty crash.

John's grief had been bad enough. The guilt he felt, though, was absolutely terrible. The truck had had sloppy steering for a while, and just before the crash it had gotten pretty bad. If he had taken the damned thing to the shop when Mary had told him to, his son would still be alive.

John blamed himself, and it was eating him from the inside out. He rarely did anything anymore except to go to work and come back. In neither place did he talk much anymore. And what it was doing to his marriage...

"John! John! Come here, quick!"

John immediately ran for the stairs. His wife was not one to rush things. If she said it was urgent, it was.

A few seconds later, he was next to Mary in the family room, looking at a scene he never would have believed if someone had told him of it.
Bowzer, the pet dog, was sitting quietly at the large glass doors, looking out. But it was what he was looking at that was so incredible.

There was a wolf outside.

''Right'' outside. If the door was opened, they could touch it without leaving the house. It was just sitting there, looking at the dog looking at him through a pane of glass.

"Holy crap..." John whispered. They lived in suburbia, not a rural area. There was woods bordering their backyard, but the nearest
''forest'' was nowhere near.

"Bowzer's not barking," Mary pointed out, her voice a whisper as well. "He barks whenever another dog comes within 30 feet of him. But he's not, now."

It took John a moment to realize she was correct. It made the scene feel even more surreal.

The wolf turned his head and looked at the pair of humans. John saw a hint of...something...in its eyes. Then it opened it mouth and began to bark.

The sounds immediately sounded odd to John. He looked at his wife, and saw a worried expression on her face as well. The barking was wrong. ''No, wait. Not wrong. Unnatural.'' And then it clicked.

"Oh my God."

He'd not heard that sequence for a year. Before that, he had heard it often. John raced upstairs, to the room he had left only a minute earlier. He strode quickly to the bookshelf, and looked the titles over as fast as he could. "Whereisit, whereisit, dammit, whereisAHA!" He pulled the book from the shelf and ran back downstairs.

"What is going on?" Mary asked, the entire episode making her nervous.

"Morse code," John said succinctly. He opened the ham radio book to the table of Morse code symbols and quickly checked them. "K2GU was Zach's ID." It checked.

"What are you saying?"

John ignored the question and walked over to the door. Bowzer gave him a quick look and whine, then resumed observing the wolf. The wolf had stopped barking when he approached.

John sat cross-legged next to his dog. "Zach? That you?" Its tail wagged and it opened its mouth in what could only be described as a canine grin.

John couldn't help it. He broke down. "I'm sorry. Oh God I'm so sorry. It was my fault..."

There was another series of barks. John jerked back to life and looked in the book. His tears were still coming, if slower; the task of translating took his mind off his grief and guilt. "No, I'm ''not'' wrong," he said forcefully, looking up from the book. "If I'd taken it into the shop..."

More barking interrupted anything he would added to that. "`Not guilty'," John said out loud when he had translated.

"He always did like Perry Mason," his wife chuckled, wiping her eyes.

John hesitated, then he reached up and pulled the door open. The wolf... Zach... didn't run. John removed his hand from the door and reached out. After a moment, Mary joined him in rubbing their son's fur. After a few seconds of this, it retreated a few steps and resumed the rhythmic barking.

"`Don't worry. Be happy.'," John told his wife as he translated.
Zach nodded his lupine head once. Then he turned and trotted towards the woods.

"Wait!" John cried as he stood and ran a few steps after his son.
He saw Zach stop, hesitate, then turn and walk back to them. "Please.
Don't leave."

Zach tilted his head to the side, the question too obvious to ask.

"I don't want you to leave. If you leave, you'll be..." John swallowed; he had to concentrate to keep from breaking up again.
"...gone."

Zach responded with another series of barks, his longest. Then he licked his father's hand, and trotted off.

"What'd he say?" Mary asked him.

John looked up from the book in his hands in time to see the wolf, at the edge of the woods, look back at him. Then it was gone.

"What'd he say?" Mary repeated, a little more urgently.

John tore his eyes from the spot Zach had entered the woods. He looked at her, really looked, for the first time in a year. He saw the eyes, wet from her own tears. But there was something else. There was a deep concern for him that he had noticed for a year now but never really ''seen'' until now.

"Uh. `Don't grieve. Live. I'm not dead. I'm free.'"

Mary blinked. "Oh," she said, softly.

John pulled her into a close hug. "C'mon. Let's go inside. Let's talk." Mary just nodded. John entered the house with his wife, and closed the door.

And began to heal.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Animal]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Free}}

Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest

2007-09-18T02:17:50Z

Xodiac: added author comments

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

"Hold up, Gary," I murmured softly. "I need to rest again."

His exasperated sigh was audible through both masks, his and mine. "The eyes?"

I nodded, and he guided me to a circular bench that enclosed a palm tree. Sitting was a blessed relief, although thanks to the outfit it was somewhat awkward.

I reminded myself that this costume wasn't a result of just my labor, it was also my concept and design. The idea had been to build costumes based on Robin Hood. He would be a robin, of course, and not a fox like the cartoon. Ultimately he would be accompanied by his band of merry men — most notably Friar Duck and Will a-Scarlet Macaw, along with anyone else I could think up a good avian related pun for. But those others hadn't been finished in time for Kubla Con.

One of Robin's companions ''had'' been finished, though. His lady love, Maid Marian. (She was a horse — ''mare''-ian. I thought it was a great pun, though few others got it without an explanation.)

The problem was, Marian's costume required a renaissance-style dress, and those suckers were heavy and very cumbersome. "Robin" was lucky; even though his sleeves were modified to look like wings, and he had to carry a bow and quiver (modified to be con-safe), the tunic and vest and hat that he wore were nothing compared to a dress, two skirts, a dress, and sleeves — all before adding the mask, gloves and shoes that made her a horse.

And who wore Maid Marian? Me, of course. I didn't presently have a girlfriend, or even know any women as friends well enough to ask them to wear it. Gary's frame was slender enough that he could have passed for female, but he did better as Robin. His small size made him more birdlike, anyway, whereas my frame could certainly be a better fit for a horse. I wasn't fat, mind you, not at all. It was just that I could hardly be called slender like he could, either. The fact that I topped him by a head added to the effect. At any rate, a build like mine might have been good for the horse aspect, but I would never pass as a female. Not without a lot of work. So in addition to all the clothes the public saw, I wore a corset and stuffed bra, along with one of those padded things that bulks out the hips. With all that, and the mask to hide my face, I could pass as a thickset woman.

All of which was a somewhat long way of saying that I was ''hot.'' Being in Orlando, even in November, didn't help much. And the battery powering the fan in the muzzle that kept the air circulating was dying. Moisture was getting blown out of the nostrils slower than I was sweating it into the air, and the plastic eyes had gotten all foggy. It probably looked like my costume had cataracts, and she might as well have. I was about as blind.

For ten minutes we just sat. I tried hard to breathe as little as possible to prevent even more moisture from fogging up the eyes. Eventually I could see more than vague shapes again, and began paying attention to the other costumes. Along with the usual assortment of Klingons, Jedi, and superheroes, some stood out. A few of them were quite good, like the dragon that must have contained at least two men. Others were not so great, like the robot that was clearly assembled in ten minutes from cardboard boxes, spray paint, and a magic marker. And a few were just puzzling. What did a ballerina, a US Marine Captain, or an anthropomorphic white rabbit have to do with science-fiction or fantasy? If the rabbit had been wearing an Elizabethan outfit I could say it was from Caroll, but he was just wearing overalls.

"We're going to be late," Gary complained, though still speaking softly. Although the jaws moved, speaking in these masks was to be avoided. It didn't sound right.

I nodded my reply, but still took my time getting up. The awards ceremony to give out the big prizes — cash, this year! — would be starting any time now, true, but I knew we wouldn't win any of those. I had thought I'd done a good job with what we were wearing, but some of the ones out there were good enough for movies. Besides, we'd already won a prize for "good couple." It was clearly a minor category, and one I've never heard of before at ''any'' con, but I wasn't about to complain. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks.

The main ballroom, where the major awards were to be dispersed, was crowded. All of the chairs within easy reach were occupied, and the walls were jammed with people. Nearly all of them were in costume, though for a sizable number it was just the funny prosthetic animal noses that were being sold in the dealer's room.

A man was ascending the low stage to join a woman in a leafy dryad outfit. He was tall, but beyond that details were impossible to discern because his clothing was a featureless black and he wore a mask. He looked like a very distinguished crow, or maybe raven. He must be the millionaire funding all the prizes, I surmised. I was proved right a moment later when the woman announced, "Eric Winters, everyone!" By then everyone at the con knew that name.

Mr. Winters took the microphone, a cat-person on one side and the dryad on the other. For several seconds he said nothing, waiting for crowd noise to die down a bit. Then he swayed, looking like he was drunk or perhaps suffering from heat exposure.

"What a wimp," I said to myself. Even though he was dressed all in black, my costume had to be a hundred times worse. Although, now that I was thinking about it again, it didn't seem so bad anymore. It was still hot and heavy, but not oppressively so, and my field of view was the best I'd had in hours. Maybe ten times worse, then.

The audience was beginning to murmur nervously. Suddenly several people interspersed throughout the hall screamed almost in unison, and panic took hold of the room.

People and costumes were running everywhere, screaming and bellowing. I laid my ears flat against the cacophony. "What is it? What is happening?" I cried. What caused the panic? I was scared more of the people here than of some danger of which I knew nothing!

"Come, my Lady!" Robin shouted over the din. "This place is unsafe!"

A bright red bar of light flashed nearby, leaving afterimages in my eyes. What looked like a man made of silver was exchanging blows with... "A griffin! My goodness, how didst a griffin get in here? Where art the guards?"

"''Please,'' Marian!"

I looked at Robin. He only called me by name in the most dire of circumstances. I had to admit that this was the most dire I could recall. "Lead on," I ordered.

He took me by the arm and aimed us at the door. Twas a shame he had not brought his sword, for it would have been of great help. Strangely, I couldn't for the life of me remember why he hath left it behind. Surely it would not have called attention to him in ''this'' lot!

For once, my lover was not gentle. Not with me and certainly not with those between us and our exit. We were somewhat aided by the fact that so many others were aimed at the same set of doors, though for some reason Robin was taking us on something of a meandering path which countered that benefit. I was jostled about quite a bit myself by wretches too uncouth or uncaring to properly treat nobility. I had to hike my skirts indecently high to prevent them from being ruined. Something crunched beneath my hooves — a scaly hand, I saw when I looked back. It wasn't moving.

At last Robin pushed aside one final obstacle, a grey-skinned woman whose beautiful dress was ruined by a gaudy overabundance of jewelry. We veered sharply away from the majority of those streaming out of the great hall and ducked inside a smaller room. There was an arrangement of tables on one end, but the rest of the room was occupied by chairs, some in obvious disarray. It was as if an eccentric highborn man had intended fifty people to watch him eat. Most curious.

But there were no people. "This seems safe enough," Robin declared.

"Indeed so."

Whoever's castle this was (I could remember its name — Xanadu — but oddly, not its lord's), was clearly wealthy beyond compare. The chairs were made not of wood, but metal! Such extravagance! Even with the thin layer of padding they looked uncomfortable, however. But those at the long table looked no different, so I took one near the end and sat.

- And immediately snorted in surprise. I jumped to my feet, rubbing my buttocks. Robin's trilling laugh echoed from the walls. "Watch yourself, my love! These seats were not made for tails. Inconsiderate of our host, whosoever that might be, don't you think?" He, too, had taken a chair, but was sitting on it sideways so as not to ruffle his tailfeathers.

I nodded slowly. So he knew not who ruled here either, did he? But there was something strange about his words...

"''A tail?''" I yelped, and turned to look closely at my backside. A part of me cringed at such unladylike behavior. Another was screaming that I had never been a lady! Nor had I ever had hooves, or a muzzle, or a tail. The dress hadn't been tailored for a tail! But now I had all of these, and more. I didn't want to contemplate exactly what more I had; I suspected I'd find out all too soon. "What on Earth didst happen to me?" I stopped there, surprised by how I spoke.

Robin — no, Gary — approached and put his winglike arms around me. "I know thou art distraught, love. Twas a terrible row we just escaped. But you seem unharmed, if a touch disheveled." He smiled, somehow, despite the beak. "Though, verily methinks it only adds to your beauty."

For a few seconds I felt comforted by his words and embrace. My lover had ever been the flatterer! Then I pulled roughly away. Gary had ''certainly'' never been a lover of mine, and Robin hadn't existed ten minutes ago! I shuddered. It was frightening how easy it was to slip into Marian's personality.

Robin looked deeply hurt at my retreat. "Robin -" I stopped. My voice! It was very definitely a woman's, now. There was no chance of pretending to be male even to a blind man. I gathered my nerve and tried again. "Do you know anyone named Gary?" Please...

But he frowned in thought for too long. I knew the answer well before he spoke. "I know none by that name. Wouldst he perchance be a new recruit for my band?"

I shook my head sadly. His name hadn't brought him out of character. Maybe nothing would, but I vowed to try again later. Still, I wondered why he was stuck so firmly as Robin Hood while I was only a part-time Maid Marian. I shook my head again, more firmly. That, too, would have to wait.

"Not some popinjay after your affections, I hope!" Robin exclaimed. "I do so hate competition."

"Thou dost love competition."

"Ah, well. Tis you who knows my heart best." He paused for a moment. "The noise seems much diminished. We should take our leave ere the guards arrive. Tis by God's own grace that they have not already."

It occurred to me that the local sheriff would probably be much more easily countered than the one he was worrying about. At least Nottingham's knew who he was up against. Still, it would not do to be present when the cops arrived. It would be indecent for a woman of my stature to be incarcerated for participating in a common brawl, however uncommonly large.

I grimaced. These personality shifts were going to take some getting used to.

Outside the room, the place had the seeming of a town after flood. Tables that had been covered with some merchant's wares were overturned and broken, his inventory strewn everywhere. The only people to remain were three stormtroopers marching back towards the great hall. We stayed out of their way and their sight until they were past, then headed in the opposite direction, marveling at the wonderful flameless torches and the impossibly clear glass. I had never seen the like!

Our error was quickly made apparent. Twas clearly the direction the great majority of the mob had gone. We could see the throngs outside through more great sheets of that glass. But when we approached closer to see, another marvel revealed itself. As we neared, a portion slid aside of its own accord, revealing itself to be not a window but a door. We both blinked and looked at each other. Then he shrugged and stepped through, leaving me to follow in his wake.

Outside was chaos. But twas the chaos of a tourney, not that of a brawl. Except it missed the festive air. Most of the people looked quite displeased, indeed! Men and creatures were sitting with dejected looks upon their visages. Some were weeping or wandering aimlessly, as if their wits had deserted them.

Strange movement caught my eye: a pair of turning lamps, one burning red, the other blue. The rested on an oddly-shaped box of metal and glass. More were arriving, accompanied by a wail audible for a mile or more. My awe was less than it might have been, however, as I realized they were some sort of vehicle. There were just too many wonders, and my sense of awe was becoming dulled from overuse.

The guards — no, the ''police!'' — were here at last. I glanced at Robin, but while he had seen them arrive he was as yet unaware of their significance. They were already beginning to block off the exits from the parking lot. Within an hour, or maybe half that, none would be able to leave the grounds without their permission.

"The sheriff's men art here," I told Robin.

"Oh?" His head darted about, searching. "Where? I see them not?"

"The cars — the metal boxes with lamps atop them. Those art his."

"Ah... art thou sure, my Lady? Their garb is peculiar."

"A new set of armor doth change not who they be. Tis they, for certain." I hoped Gary would emerge soon. Having to term everything so Robin Hood would understand was an arduous task. And that was when I understood it, myself.

The avian face looked thoughtful. I knew instantly what he had in mind. "Thou art mad if thou thinketh you can force conflict now!"

He trilled, clearly amused. "Against greater numbers, with neither stalwart companions nor plan? Nay, fear not, my love. I dost not be quite so foolish as that!"

I looked at him suspiciously. If he didst not desire a battle, what then? Only one thing came to mind. "Thou art planning a grand jest." Drawing attention to us out of these multitudes was second only to a fight in my estimation of things to be avoided. "We haven't the time! More guards arrive by the moment!" But the gleam in his eye was accompanied now by a stubborn set to his beak. I gulped and tried a different approach, on that I had rather hoped to avoid. I grasped the ends of his wings gently and in the softest, most sincere tone I could muster said, "For me, my... my love?"

For a moment I thought even that might not be enough. Robin Hood was the rogue's rogue. But he was also something of a gentleman. "Since thou dost insist," he said. "Though it doth pain me to leave without tweaking his nose by letting him know who he almost caught in his net." With one backward glance at the police, we left.

Escaping them was simplicity itself. We simply walked out of a side of the parking lot from which there were no sanctioned exits. The police had done little more than block and regulate the ways cars could come and go. By no means was the "net" tight enough yet to catch those without them.

As we walked, Robin turned his head about often to stare at some new wonderment. He said nothing, just taking it all in. And there was so very much to take in! His state made it easy for me to take the lead. And, thanks to how I had somehow not completely become Marian, I even had some idea where to go.

The highway was not far from Xanadu. When it came into view we both stopped and stared. We had thought the cars were going impossibly quick on the local streets, but it was as nothing compared to this!

"What is this place?" Robin said over the din of hundreds of moving cars.

"Tis the highway," I called back. "We needs must ride one of these."

He didn't look precisely scared. Acutely worried, mayhap. "Art thou sure we must? We could always walk."

I nodded. "Twould take days to reach safe haven by hoof." I blinked; that was supposed to be ''by foot.'' "Fret not. These cars dost be harmless if thou dost not stand before them."

"How canst thou be so certain?"

"I am a learned mare."

That mollified him. Together we made our way to the highway. Robin had little trouble with the chain-link fence on its edge; he simply jumped over, aided by a few flaps of his wings. I had somewhat more difficulty. Neither my hooves nor my dress were well suited to climbing. We had to search for some time before finding a tear in the links.

We walked onto the shoulder. I let Robin support me a bit; loose stones unbalanced me whenever they chanced to be beneath my hooves. Then I stuck out a thumb in the traditional manner. It felt a mite peculiar, until I realized I had only three fingers.

One more thing to get used to.

Twice cars slowed and began to drift our way, and twice they regained their incredible speed and passed us by. But a third did not veer off, and stopped a few dozen feet away. It was of the type that looked somewhat like the wagons with which we were both familiar, except the driver's area was enclosed and as always there were no horses to pull it. It also was not in the best of conditions, with rust and dents riddling its body.

The glass window near us was absent. Within was a single occupant, large and bearded. "Need a ride?" he drawled.

"Verily."

"C'mon in, then."

We nodded, then paused. How to enter was not immediately clear. Then Robin scrambled in through the opening.

"I will not crawl inside like that!" I declared, hands on my hips. "Twould be unbecoming!"

"Why don't you use the door then, miss?"

We looked at the man. He was trying hard not to laugh. I could feel my ears redden as I blushed. "Thou dost mock me!"

"Sorry, miss, sorry. I just... never mind. Ya open the door by pulling on that handle there. Yeah, that. Now pull..."

Part of the side swung away, and it was suddenly much easier to get inside. "I thought that was an ornament," I declared as I got in. I had to sit slightly sideways on the padded bench, since, as at Xanadu, he had not thought to accommodate those with tails. Robin had a similar problem, and solved it the same way. It changed the seat from small to truly cramped, but I still managed to close the door — carefully, mindful of my skirts.

The strange wagon started to move. Its speed continued to build until it was the countryside that moved too fast for comfort. By contrast, the nearby wagons were almost still, shifting position slowly. I confess that my hands were clenched tight on the metal door.

"First time ridin' a car, is it?"

Robin nodded stiffly. I noticed he kept his eyes on the man rather than the petrifying view outside. Then I closed my eyes so I didn't have to look at it, either.

"Well, as ya can see it ain't so bad, is it? A little scary at first but ya get used to it quick. By the way, my name's Sam."

"We are honored. I am Robin Hood and this is my Lady love, Marian."

"Uh... right. Good job on those costumes. Damn, they can do anything these days! So where do ya come from, that ya ain't never ridden before?"

"We hail from Sherwood Forest."

A pause. "Right. Well... Oh! Heh, I get it now. ''Robin'' Hood. Clever!" I wondered what was so clever about it. Twas his name, nothing more. "Well, you're pretty far from there, eh?"

"Indeed. Thou didst speak but a moment past of never before meeting people who have ridden in a... car?"

"Yeah, damn near everyone's ridden in these things — unless you're Amish, maybe, and I don't think you are. They just don't wear costumes like yours. Just about everyone owns one, too, except the poor and those damn Amish again."

I didn't have to be watching to see Robin perk up at the mention of the poor. "So tis only rich Lords such as yourself who own these cars, then."

Sam laughed, a deep bass that set my ears to ringing. "I ain't no lord! Just about anyone can buy one if they save up, thank God. Only the really down-and-out can't manage it." His voice shifted, sounding concerned, as he said, "Gonna need a new one myself, pretty soon. This one's in bad shape. Need new everything. Even the radio's busted, which is why I can't play some music for ya."

We rode in silence for a few seconds. I cracked open my eyes, saw a tree zoom past, and immediately shut them again. I spent the time trying to imagine what a radio was and how one might be played.

"Say, where ya goin', anyway? Or are ya just driftin'? If ya are, then I can only bring ya as far as Miami. Not there's a whole lot after that!"

"I dost not think so," Robin said carefully. "Where were we going, Marian? Thou didst have a place in mind, thou claimed."

I did? But after a moment I remembered our destination, and I told it to Sam.

"Well, great! That's just two exits up!" he said cheerfully. "Good thing I asked when I did, eh?"

When I felt the car slow down, I managed to pry my eyes open once more. The scenery still moved much too fast, but I could stand it now. There were fewer buildings than the area near Xanadu, and they were smaller and less garish. Houses. Sam made a few turns, fast and sharp enough to be nauseating, and stopped before one of them.

"Here ya are. I hope y'all have fun at your party. Ya got some damn good costumes."

"Thankee for the kind words, good sir," Robin replied. I bowed my head, acknowledging our benefactor's praise, then opened the door and stepped out.

Our destination was a dwelling that was apparently average, judging by others nearby, but it was in truth as large as a small Lord's hunting retreat. It had but one floor, however, and a large hollow space to one side that took up a great deal of room. It was separated from the indoors by more sheets of flawless glass.

The building was familiar, yet not. I remembered it clearly, and knew it was safe to remain there after leaving Xanadu. But I could not recall what made it safe. Were it not for how we had no other place to go, I might have shied away from this mystery.

My lover had exited and was speaking to Sam. "Thankee for thine help. Take this as a token of my gratitude." From the purse at his hip he withdrew a square-cut ruby perhaps half an inch on each side.

Sam guffawed as he took it in hand. "Thanks, Robin. Ya do the act pretty damn good, there. Too bad it ain't real."

"Tis real enough, I assure thee."

Sam peered at him skeptically. "Perhaps now thou canst buy a new radio," I suggested. He would want an instrument before the long winter months arrive, else the boredom would become acute.

"Ha! If this is real I can buy a new ''car!'' Ha ha! See y'all later, folks. Have a good time." Sam closed the door with a thunk and drove away, still chuckling.

I whirled on my lover. "Where didst thou get those?"

"From the rich, of course!"

"From the guests at Xanadu!" I raged. "Truly thou art mad! Thou stealeth from the guests of our host! Tis a poor way to show gratitude for his hospitality!"

"His hospitality could be better," Robin countered. "Poor seats and a near-battle in the hall, and yet he doth not even deign to show himself! Twas my due, for the inconvenience if for no other reason." I glared at him. He could be so trying at times! "Besides, my sweet, what's done is done. There is no gain in anger now."

I retained my glare for a moment longer, to show I was giving in but did not have to. Then I asked from where he got the gem.

"Twas from that grey lady. Verily, she had more than was good for her soul. I was duty-bound to relieve her of some of her wealth. Half my takings came from her alone!"

''Half?'' "Just how much didst thou steal?"

In response he opened his purse. The small bag was filled with perhaps two score bits of jewelry and loose gems of various sizes and colors. One emerald was near the size of a hen's egg! "My word..." I gasped.

"In all the confusion that abounded, twas simplicity itself to relieve the rich of some of what makes them so haughty."

A girl, mayhap five years of age, was across the street, watching us with wide eyes and open mouth as we argued. I smiled reassuringly at her, and was rewarded with a tentative one in return. I thrust the bag of jewels back at Robin and strode towards the house. "Come. We art attracting attention. This is not the place to show such wealth."

Gaining entry was not quite so simple as opening a door, however, for all we found were locked. But my love had among his many skills those of an accomplished burglar. Twas only a matter of reaching an understanding of these locks.

"There," he said at last as the door from the hollow area opened at last. "After you, my Lady."

I walked into a dwelling that was oddly familiar. Strange furniture filled the room, and the most skillfully done paintings I had seen in my life hung from the walls. Beyond was a room the likes of which I had never seen. In one corner was a large box that quietly hummed and the walls were lined with cabinets filled with plates and goblets filled with glass. Was this the kitchen, then?

Yes, of course it was. I opened the refrigerator and withdrew an apple and a few slices of cheese. I had the feeling it would be wise to avoid the lunch meat. "There is food here, it thou art hungry," I called to Robin.

"Ah, thou art a wonder, my love." Robin nibbled on the base of my neck as he passed — his version of a kiss, it seemed. He paused when he reached the fridge's open door. "Tis cold!"

"Indeed so." There was little else to say.

His face turned thoughtful. "This kingdom in which we find ourselves is rich beyond compare. Beyond dreaming! The Lord who doth maintain this lodge commands such wondrous magics. Twould do much for the poor, methinks."

"Well, mayhap..."

"Mayhap! How could it not be so? Just look at the riches around us!"

"Struth, but... well."

The next few hours were consumed by giving Robin a brief summary of American society. It was somewhat difficult to convince him that most people, even the poor, had refrigerators and flameless lights, and that most of those without them had no place to put them. Unlike the England we remembered, the poor would not starve. Even once he had some idea, however, it did not change the mission he had imposed upon himself to help the poor overcome their hardships.

"Though it may require a change of strategy, perchance," he admitted. I laughed. His persistence was wonderful. It's one of the reasons I love him so dearly.

No, no. I don't. Not love...

In the course of the conversation I did determine one sad fact: Gary was gone. I knew already that he didn't recognize the name; now I knew that his job, his home town, and even his dog were all unfamiliar to him. Perhaps sometime in the future some part of Gary will emerge, but I didst not hold high hopes.

Our discourse was interrupted by the sound of an approaching car. We halted, then moved back into the kitchen. It was out of immediate view of all the doors, so we might have time to determine if the newcomer was friend or foe.

The car stopped in the hollow space. The door from there opened slowly. "Hello? Guys? I know you're here, I saw you in the window..."

As the man entered the kitchen Robin slid in quickly behind him, his belt knife pressed under the man's armpit. "Who art thou?" Robin demanded.

The newcomer was young and thin, and his eyes were wide with fear. "I'm S-Scott. I live here! Don't you remember me, Gary? I let you guys stay here during the con."

I stepped forward. "Our apologies, dear Scott. We didst not know for certain who might pursue us."

Scott stared at me as Robin put his knife away. He looked as if he had been punched. "Shit..."

"Mind your language," Robin said harshly. "A Lady doth be before you!"

"Uh... sorry. You've turned into them, haven't you? Robin Hood and Maid Marian?"

"Those art indeed our names, good sir," Robin told him.

"Of sorts," I amended. Both of them looked at me a touch oddly, but I said nothing more as yet.

With the introductions past, we took a few moments to look each other over. No doubt he wished to see what this curse had wrought on us, and the thought was mutual. It was not difficult to see what had come of Scott. His face had a decidedly feline cast to it, with a small muzzle and ears atop his head framing a mass or orange and black hair. Most interestingly, his eyes had remained entirely human.

"I see thou didst not come away from Xanadu unscathed," I commented.

We moved into the living room as he told us what happened. He hadn't worn a full costume as we had. (Robin cocked his head here, for he didst not recall any costume, but I forestalled any comment with a hand on his wing.) Instead, he had bought a cheap animal nose, held over his own by a band of rubber, and a matching pair of ears. When the curse was cast, his visage became halfway that of a tiger.

"After the riot," Scott told us, "I couldn't find you. For a long while I was sure you were still there, 'cause I was your ride back. By the time I gave up searching, the police had set up a kind of quarantine. The only reason they let me out is because my changes were ''relatively'' minor and I'm a local.

"They art not so minor to mine eyes," Robin said.

"Ah... I did say relatively minor. I mean, just look at you two!"

"What about us?"

Scott didn't quite know what to make of that.

We explained how we made our way here from Xanadu. Beyond that, there was little enough to say. It would never occur to Robin to explain the changes to his mental state, and I was reluctant to clarify the issue to Scott with him present. Our host did attempt some probing questions, which I confess I did a poorer job of answering than I would have anticipated. I could remember a computer, but not how it was used. I knew of television, but only after being reminded of its existence, and had not the slightest of notions about how such a thing could possibly be. But his inquiries were halfhearted at best, as if he feared the answers. It is likely at its end he thought us both equally lost. He seemed discomfited at the conclusion, and it was with a morose air that he announced he would begin work on our evening repast.

I found it interesting that while I found the chicken faintly revolting and had to content myself with the vegetables and a dinner roll, Robin ate it all with little consequence. Still, even such simple fare was tasteful enough to satisfy. But the meal was a somewhat tense affair. Scott was clearly uncomfortable in our presence and ate quickly. He to his bedroom immediately afterwards, pausing only long enough to indicate where we were to sleep.

There wasn't much left to do — that we could do — except prepare for bed. I spent a few minutes explaining to Robin the proper use of a toilet. (He had considered it a basin to wash clothes in, and had been about to resort to using tupperware as a chamberpot — something I doubted Scott would see much humor in.) My own first time using the toilet as a mare was a sensation I would never forget, though twould not do to recount the experience.

That done, I retired to the room Scott had designated as ours. Robin was already there. "What dost thou thinketh of our host?"

"Worried," I replied without a moment's hesitation. "We are not what he expected."

Robin stood before me, looking thoughtful. "What didst he expect, I wonder."

"Who could say?" I could, of course. But how dost one tell a lover — well, a friend — that he is but a figment of a man's imaginings? And how dost one feel when thou art the figment? I knew not the answer to either question.

"He strikes me as morose. But a good man, nevertheless. Merely troubled by the day's events."

"Tis no surprise, surely."

Robin laughed. "Nay, tis not. Twas a very trying day. Very trying." He paused. "Wilst thou be preparing for bed? Or wilst thou be sleeping in all yon finery?"

I honestly hadn't thought about it, but he did have a point. I had no nightgown, and I certainly was not about to sleep in the nude! "My chemise wilst do until we find other garb," I decided.

"Well and good. Thou wilt need assistance with thine dress. With thine permission?"

After a moment's pause I nodded. Donning the dress by myself was by no means an easy feat, and removing it scarcely any easier. Such garb typically requires a handmaiden, but I was under no illusion that I might find one here. Robin could fill the role nicely, however.

His winglike arms and hands were deft as they unknotted the golden silk ribbons that held my bodice closed. He removed the outer dress and folded it neatly over a chair. This he repeated with the underskirt. But when I tried to turn towards the bed, his arms held me, pulled me close. "Thou art a beautiful mare," he whispered.

''Oh, no.'' "I... uh..."

"Truly beautiful," he continued over my stammers. His hands rubbed my sides. "And it has been a long a trying day. Please do permit me to soothe thine fears and comfort thine nerves."

I wouldst welcome some comfort just then, but not in quite that manner! His hands were warm and soothing, yet I stepped back and away. "Thou art forward!" I chided.

My legs struck something and I stumbled. Instantly my love was there, his arms turning my tumble into a graceful seating upon the edge of the bed. "Forward, my life? Yea, perhaps so. But then, I am but a knave, who knows not such manners as those you are privy to. But verily I am an eager student. Speak out, and I wilst halt mine transgressions upon thine person."

''He doth try to seduce me!'' my mind cried. And evidently he was succeeding, for I watched in silence as his hands shifted to cup, then massage my breasts. My body suddenly felt warm, the skin beneath my fur all atingle, and my breathing grew both quicker and deeper. This can not be happening! But my body told me otherwise.

Robin pushed me gently, lowering me back against the sheets. I found myself unable to resist his advances. Unable to ''want'' to resist. His words and ministrations and just the scent of him had quickened my blood. As much as I might fight it, I ''wanted'' him to consummate our love that was deep and oh so true.

The sudden sound of breaking glass shattered the mood. My mate looked understandably displeased, and I fear I emitted a most unladylike whinny of frustrated lust. But then we realized together that this had been no dropped dish. Something of goodly size had made its way inside by means of a window.

Robin fair to leapt away towards his arms. "Stay here whilst I see to this!" he ordered me as he buckled his belt about his waist.

But I was up but a moment later. "Nay. I am coming as well." I didst not bother attempting to don my dress — twould take far too long. But I did pull on the underskirt. A woman must retain ''some'' modesty! Twould not do to run about in one's shift.

The crashing sounds of struggle were audible through the walls as Robin searched frantically for his sword before remembering he had not brought one. He cursed softly and with a single smooth movement strung his bow. "You must. I wouldst not have thee hurt in a fray!"

I strapped my purse about my waist. Twould possibly be more a hindrance than a help in any fray, but twas full of coinage and I was loath to leave it unguarded. "Then I will just have to stay out of harm's way," I said haughtily. "But I wilst be ''damned'' if I will merely sit in this room with hands folded, awaiting word of your success or failure!"

Robin waggled a finger at me. "Such words so not become a Lady!" But he was smiling.

The shouts could no longer be ignored. "Go, then!"

It was back in the room we had first entered that the commotion was. The large sheets of glass were broken, shards scattered all about. The couch upon which Robin and I had sat as we and Scott exchanged tales was broken as well, each half in a different corner of the room.

In its center was a sight fit to put ice in my stomach. Scott stood upright, but suspended a foot or more in the air by sheets of a green-tinged lightning. It traveled over and around his body again and again, but there was no thunder, only a sizzle like frying meat. Scott's hair was on end, some of it beginning to scorch, and his face was a rictus of pain.

Standing before their host was an apparition out of nightmare. It was as if sleek red robes and enough gold to buy an earl's estate had been bestowed upon a corpse, who in turn decided not to let it go to waste mouldering away in a grave. Its skin was mottled with rot and oozing sores, and its fingernails were long and yellow. When it spoke its voice was harsh and raspy. "This is your last chance," it cooed horribly, and I shuddered. Each word felt like maggots were crawling through mine hair. "Your very, very, very last chance. Are you quite certain you won't tell?"

"Never! Heard! Of it!" Sean gasped out in spurts.

"That's too bad," the thing said, its tone still a parody of sweetness. "Now I'll have to tear this place apart. Starting with you."

Robin had had enough. He nocked an arrow and cried, "Hold, varlet! Lest I put a clothyard shaft through thine heart!"

The corpse turned without haste. Then its eyes — blind and milky white, but somehow still seeing — widened in recognition. "You!"

"Yea, tis I, Robin Hood! Now release him!"

The thing looked startled at first. Then it did the unthinkable: it turned up its head and laughed. Long and hard, chest heaving with genuine humor. "Of ''course'' you are! I should have guessed!" With a casual flick of his wrist the lightning vanished, and Scott was sent flying like so much refuse. He hit a wall and tumbled down in a smoking heap, unmoving.

Robin's face clouded. His feathers were quite literally ruffled. My love didst never much enjoy being himself the object of ridicule. His shot was his revenge. At this distance, mere paces away, he could scarcely miss, and I heard the air whistle with the force of its passage as it flew true. The corpse-thing staggered with the impact.

But it did not fall. It reached to the arrow piercing its chest — exactly where the heart was — and yanked the shaft out. It did not flinch as the flesh tore, gobbets spattering on the floor. It threw it away with an ugly chuckle. "Excellent shot, 'Robin.' But you'll find me harder to kill than that."

I cried out in sudden fear as it pointed at us. We dove away in different directions, somehow knowing that this was no harmless gesture, but Robin was struck by an identical curtain of lightning to that which had ensnared our host. From just inside the doorway I watched as he was pulled upright to float where Scott had. "Now. Where is my Aelpa?"

"I know not."

Its face twisted in absolute rage. "You of all people must know! You took it from me! You!" The lightning increased, the sizzling growing until I thought myself deafened. Robin jerked spasmodically in the things power. After long, long seconds of this it softened enough that he could speak.

And still he resisted, as I knew he would. "I know not what this 'Aelpa' is," he stated as nobly as he could manage under the circumstances. "And I fail to remember taking anything at all from one as ugly as thineself. But if I had, twould be mine by right! If thou canst not prevent thine possessions from going astray then thou hast none to blame but thine own self."

Unsurprisingly, our assailant disliked such an answer. A quick motion and the lightning renewed itself once more. My Robin screamed and flailed about, but the evil creature showed no mercy. For most of a minute I helplessly watched my be tortured.

Finally the display somewhat abated. The corpse stepped in close, until its face was bare inches from my lover's beak. "Now listen, birdy," it said softly, the voice still horrible to hear. "I didn't expect to become a Kestagian Mage at Xanadu, but there's no way in Hell that I will pass this opportunity up. So I'm going to give you one last chance, much like I gave your friend." It gestured vaguely to where Scott still lay. "Where is my Aelpa?"

Robin's reply was terse. "Fuck off and die!"

Its face clouded. "You know, birds and glass have a rather nasty relationship. Did you know that?" My love abruptly went sailing across the room to crash into the lone remaining pane of plate glass. And enormous thud was clearly audible just before the pane shattered and he continued through it.

"Robin!" I screamed, and ran to follow my love regardless of the danger. But danger did not disregard me. Before I had made half a dozen strides I felt a burning across my entire body, and I felt myself lifted in the room's center to hang like a butchered goose on display.

"Perhaps you'll be more co-operative," the nightmare before me rasped.

I tried to shrink away. If its voice was belike to maggots in mine hair when it was merely overheard, it felt like worms in mine skull when it was directed at me. I fear that voice still, and can hear it yet in my mind.

"I know not!" I cried immediately, since I knew what question he meant to ask. Beyond the glass I couldst see nothing but blackness, for Robin had been thrust too far and the night had swallowed him. "Let me go! I canst not give you that which you ask! We know not what it is!" I didst not bother to hide my fear. Not fear of death, for that wouldst only allow me to join Robin in his, hopefully to meet in Heaven (no doubt after a suitable length in Purgatory, in his case). Nay, I must confess that I feared the pain to come, for I was no warrior or hero to resist such torments as I had already witnessed. "Kill me or let me go, but wither way do it and be done! I canst tell thee nothing of worth."

I dost not know which path it planned to choose — though of a certain I have my suspicions! But before he could do either there arose behind him Scott, his hair still asmoulder. He swung a great piece of wood I recognized as part of the broken couch, swung and connected with the thing's head. There was a great crack, and I thought for certain that its head was stove in, for the lightning that surrounded me vanished and I dropped bonelessly to the floor. I scrambled frantically away, sure that the corpse would fall, now a corpse in truth. But it didst not. It only turned, anger written plainly on its visage. Scott's lips peeled back in a feline snarl that wouldst surely have been fearsome, but for the greater horror before me. He swung his makeshift club again at the mage's head.

It never struck. The creature uttered something and flung his hand outwards, and the wood crashed to the floor from thumbless paws. Paws that were in turn attached to a tiger, rather than a tiger-man. The mage realized the error just as the beast leapt for its throat, and twas merely a cub that smacked against the thing's chest. It staggered from the hit, but the cub fair to bounced off to sit on the floor, shaking its head to clear it.

"Dammit!" it cried out in Scott's voice. "I thought I was safe from all this transformation shit!"

The entire room grew still for a moment. Twas a strange thing indeed to hear such words come from a tiger, and a cub at that! We all looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, and he himself seemed stunned. Then the corpse drew back its leg for a mighty kick. Scott saw, and scampered away.

The thing snorted, and I know not whether twas in frustration or satisfaction or mayhap even humor. Then it returned its attentions once more to me, and its visage was truly terrible to behold. It stepped forward as if this time to beat me to death instead of torturing me with its magics.

Yet again twas interrupted. A loud mechanical roaring came from outside. As one we turned to look beyond the broken panes. And twas an incredible sight! Twas Scott's own car speeding towards us, Robin my love behind the wheel!

Once more I scrambled hastily to win clear of a danger bearing down upon me. But he steered it away and directly into the evil mage, who in his startlement had not the thought to cast some spell that might save him. Robin drove the car into and over it, actually rolling over it with one of the tires.

"Marian!" he called through the window. "Make haste! Get in!"

I didst not argue. Already I couldst see stirrings beneath the car — even a blow as great as this couldst not kill it! I hurried into the vehicle, sitting sideways again, and Robin scarcely waited for me to close the door before shifting the lever attached to the wheel before his chest. We sped off, backwards, with a bump that hurt mine tail as we ran over our assailant a second time, and another, greater one as we left the building to the outside. The he shifted again, and we were moving forward at a goodly clip away from the damaged house.

"Art thou all right? Thou art not injured?" he asked once we were on our way.

"Nay. I am fine, although mine nerves art shattered beyond doubt. What of thee?"

"Struth, I am surprisingly uninjured, with the sole exception of a truly monstrous headache. But my bow was broken by the fall, I fear, and most of mine arrows lost."

"I've no doubt you can find another. I myself lost mine only dress!"

Robin's laugher lightened mine heart. "And that too can be replaced without difficulty, I'm sure. But where is our host? I am loath to leave him in yon mage's clutches, yet I saw him not when I drove in."

"Of that I know not, I fear. He hast become a mere cub, thanks to foul magic, and afterwards ran off."

For a few moments the car was silent save for its running. Then he said, "He shalt have to make do on his own, then. We canst not risk a search."

I nodded mine agreement but remained silent. A thought more pressing came to mind. "Robin, my love... How canst it be thy knoweth how to use one of these cars? For I know of a certainty I couldst not."

"Ha! Tis because thy kept thine eyes closed for the previous journey! But I watched how friend Sam managed it, and so was able to do it myself when the need arose."

The answer made sense on the surface of it, but the more I pondered the less satisfying it became. He drove far too skillfully to have learned merely by watching, and never once had Sam touched the gearshift. So how, then, didst Robin know its use?

The only thing I couldst think of was that perhaps, despite all earlier tests by Scott and mineself, some part of Gary didst survive. Twas a notion supported by his last words to the mage: "Fuck off and die." Twas scarcely a phrase Robin Hood might speak.

"Gary?" I asked softly, tentatively. But the bird beside me didst not respond. "Robin?"

"Yes, love?"

"Thankee for returning."

He leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek — quite literally. "What else couldst I do? Twas my Lady in the hands of that villain! So once more I rode in to rescue ye, the fine damsel in distress. Though tis a strange steed I rode in on!"

I blew him a raspberry. My mouth was well suited to them now, it seemed.

So. If twas a touch a Gary that hath emerged, twas only a touch. I shouldst have to wait and see what became of it, if anything at all did.

For some unknowable length of time I watched the lights of the city outside as we passed them by. For this time I felt no need to close mine eyes in fear of the remarkable speed. Perhaps the semidarkness quelled such worries. Or mayhap twas something else...

I had noticed an odd thing, now that the tumult was past. I still loved my Robin, and indeed found the thought of living without him painful to contemplate. Yet I couldst also recall being horrified to find myself in his embrace. Indeed, I couldst still remember all of my life ere Xanadu, and whilst it doth seem a strange life I knew it to be the true one I hath lived to that day. But I still most certainly was Maid Marian, ward of King Richard and future wife of the rogue, Robin Hood. It occurred to me that mine two selves somehow merged, melting together into a whole greater than the parts. It made the world new, yet familiar, as if I had by chance met a friend not seen in years. I thought it likely now that whilst I might still be surprised and awed by the things to be found on our future journeys, I wouldst never be shocked by them — no moreso, at least, than any other mortal wouldst be.

"Dost thou have a destination?" I asked at last.

"Nay, unless thou hast one to suggest. But my only thought hast been to put as much road between us and that thing as I am able ere we rest."

"Aim north, then." I got as comfortable as I was able, given the awful seat, and prepared myself for a long ride.

A strange sputtering jerked me awake from a sleep I hadn't realized I had begun. But I found myself curled against my mate, and straightened as the car began to move in fits and starts. "What's happening?" I asked sleepily.

"I know not. The car just started acting strangely. Forgive me for letting it wake thee."

"Of course thou art forgiven, love." I ran my fingers' hooflets through his plumage as I considered. "Steer it over to the side before another car hits us. How long hath I slept?"

Robin dutifully pulled to the shoulder just as the car gave one last gasp and died. "Merely an hour, perhaps more."

Verily it felt like it. Mine head was foggy and slow. It was a testament to how badly the day had worn on me that it was only after we had come to a complete halt that I thought to inquire regarding its fuel. To which Robin replied, "Fuel?"

This explained much.

"I had best explain as we walk," I told him.

Robin cocked his head. "Why not here? Tis as good a place as any to rest the night."

"Methinks thou still doth not realize how this land works, my love. Nay, do not be offended! I mean no slight! But this country, whilst strange to us both — and us both strange to it, ha! — doth be somehow less strange to me. I tell you of a certainty that shouldst we remain with the car here overlong that we will be found. If not that 'Kestagian Mage,' then by the sheriff or his men!"

Robin agitatedly ruffled is feathers. "Lawks! Doth he be everywhere?"

"In a way... come, love, let us not tarry. We canst still use our feet and hooves, each in turn, and mayhap find an inn. And along the way I canst tell thee a touch more about America, and a wonderful, terrible device called a gun."

The walk was not long in distance, but we took it slowly. Robin surprised me by accepting, in abstract at least, the police as a force for common good instead of a tool to oppress the masses. "There are good and evil men on this Earth," he said, "and just as some of the evil wilst gain power, so too wilst some good." He didst agree, then, the he would refrain from attempting to slay officers on sight in a kind of proactive self-defense. I felt this was likely to be the best I wouldst get from him, for the moment, and moved on.

Of the concept of guns he was much more skeptical. That someone couldst build something belike to a crossbow that shoots only the arrow's head at a speed capable of knocking a grown man off his feet, and still have the device fit inside his purse — twas ridiculous! Rifles he couldst believe in, if barely, but for all else he thought me to be jumping at shadows, and declared he wouldst need to see them ere he grew wary.

By then we had exited the highway and were walking city streets. I didst my best to ignore the rude stares of those passing us by in cars. Twas not easy, for I felt nearly naked, walking about in little more than my shift. Luckily, there was a refuge of sorts not far from the highway, a bright sign proclaiming "Denny's" for all to see. "That looks not like an inn," Robin commented when I headed for the entrance.

"True enow," I replied. "But tis likely they can direct us to one, and give us refreshment in the bargain."

"Refreshment! Thou art hungry again so soon?"

"Thou dost know horses," I said gaily at the door. "Always grazing!"

Inside, twas bright and cheery, though the odors that assaulted my muzzle were nothing I'd ever enjoy. The hostess at the counter looked up from her book with a smile that quickly faded as she beheld us. "Not more of them!" Twas clearly meant to be a mutter, but mine ears heard her clearly.

"Good eve, dear lady," Robin said charmingly. Either he hadn't heard her comment or he was ignoring it. "We wouldst enjoy a meal here, if thou canst offer one. And if ye perchance hath directions to an inn then we wouldst be much obliged to thee."

The young woman's face was blank for a few seconds as she puzzled through the speech. "There's a motel maybe four blocks that way," she said at last, pointing hopefully. "It's a Best Western, you can't miss it."

"Doth this 'Best Western' be an inn, then? I am unfamiliar with motels."

"Uh... yeah."

"Excellent! We shalt eat and be on our way, then."

The woman didst not bother hiding her grimace. She led us to a nearly deserted corner of the restaurant before removing herself. The only other patrons in the area were a deer and a white rabbit quietly sharing a table. They perked up noticeably when they spied our entry. With only the quickest of glances at each other they both waved for us to join them.

Robin smiled and strode immediately to their side. I was a touch more reluctant to dine with complete strangers, e'en ones that couldst well have sprung direct from Sherwood Forest itself. But the decision had been made, and I joined my love at their table.

We all took a few moments to check each other out. The rabbit was pure white and about the size of a child. His bright blue eyes stared at me inquisitively, and his hands looked oddly deformed, though I couldst not see them clearly enough to determine how. He wore no clothing. His companion, the deer, was man-sized, with an enormous ten-pointed set of antlers atop his brow that must make dwellings feel cramped. His ears were in constant motion, turning towards the slightest sound. I noticed that his hands were not unlike mine, with four digits bestowed with tiny hooflets on their ends. At first it seemed he, too, was unclothed, but after a moment I noticed he wore a pair of short brown pants that almost perfectly blended with his fur. The cream-colored fur on his chest, however, was uncovered.

"Hey there," said the deer in a soft voice by way of greeting, as I sat down slowly, mindful of my tail.

"Ah... hey," Robin returned uncertainly. I merely nodded my head to them.

"Hiya," the rabbit said. "I'm Phil, and this here's Jon."

"''Buck,''" his companion corrected him. "Given how things are, I might as well get used to that name."

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Good eve. I am Robin Hood, and this is Maid Marian."

The table was engulfed in silence. Finally Buck said, "Well, ''somebody'' had a sense of humor."

The waitress arrived then, a large woman who approached cautiously and stood an extra pace away from the table as we ordered food. Phil and Buck already had theirs before them, large salads each, and I asked one for myself. On the woman's recommendation Robin decided to try the french toast. "Tis just like the French scoundrels to claim the dish for their own, I daresay," he told her.

After she left, Phil enthused, "Sure is nice to see others affected by Xanadu's curse."

"Curse?" Robin asked.

"And why is that?" I said at the same time.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before. Everyone's afraid of us. Think we'll show some inhuman ability or instinct or power and ruin the place. Or maybe just infect them."

Buck added, "I hear there's honest-to-God werewolves roaming Florida, now." His eyes darted about briefly as if he expected one to appear.

Phil nodded. "Yeah, that sort of thing. So they shove us in this corner so we're out of the way, even though we're not like that. Even if we were, though, I for one sure don't see what people wouldn't want to become wererabbits!" He wiggled his long ears humorously for emphasis.

Robin trilled, and I giggled girlishly at his antics. "I didst think twas for privacy," I said.

"Yep. Theirs," the rabbit said. "They don't know how to deal with us, so they keep us out of sight and hope we'll go away. This place might not even have seated us if they didn't have a twenty-four-year-old managing it. Even I was able to intimidate him, and I'm a bunny!"

At this we all laughed. When it died away, Buck asked, "Do you know anything, then, about what the heck happened at Xanadu?"

I shook my head no. Robin said, "Only that there was a great riot. Dost thou have news to tell?"

Now twas Phil's turn to shake his head. "We just know what everyone else knows: everyone who was wearing a costume turned into what they went as. Complete with all the powers and abilities that go with it — I saw two superheroes just fly off, and I bet you can shoot an arrow like nobody else, Robin."

We both nodded thoughtfully. "Doth this be the curse that thou mentioned, then?" my mate asked.

"Tis. I mean, it is."

"And some people didst lose all sense of who they art," I said, trying hard not to look at the bird at my side. Phil blinked once, clearly surprised. Twas only then that I realized that he, like Scott, hath believed 'til then that my old knowledge was gone, and that we both entirely thought of ourselves as Robin Hood and Maid Marian. I suppose tis understandable, with our speech, to assume tis that way for us both. Such preconceptions might even come in useful, shouldst our enemy fall victim to them.

"Well, yeah," Phil managed after a few seconds. "I heard on the radio that how bad it is seems to depend on how well-defined the costume was as a character, and maybe how well it was played."

That made a great deal of sense. Robin Hood hath a great deal to build on, from films and books and lore. An archer unsurpassed and good with sword as well, he was witty, clever, friend to the oppressed and enemy of oppressors and lover to Maid Marian. Tis inevitable that a man taking that role at Xanadu wouldst entirely lose his old self.

And what of Maid Marian? Mine only thoughts to her character when I built the costume were that she wouldst be noble-born and in love with Robin, supporting him as best she were able. Such a relatively sparse description couldst well be why I had so much of mine old self left, even if twere more as just memories and less as thoughts and deeds.

"That's likely why you speak so... well, wrong," Buck said thoughtfully.

I looked at him hard. "Wrong? Tis Olde English, is all!"

But he shook his head. "Not really. I'm no history major — well, okay, I am, but it's for the wrong era to know what real Olde English is. But I know what you're speaking isn't it."

"Most likely," Phil chimed in, "you're speaking how the pre-curse you thought Olde English sounded. It's just another aspect of the mental change. It's not proper speech because you didn't truly think of your character speaking properly."

I considered. "That makes sense enough, I suppose. And what of you both? It doth not seem to have turned out too poorly for you."

Buck snorted in amusement, letting out a deerlike bleat. "That's only because you met us in a quiet, unpopulated area. Put either of us in a noisy crowd and I swear we'd have nervous breakdowns inside twenty minutes. Though I suppose if you meant physically we could have come out of it worse."

"Speak for yourself," Phil grumbled. "At least you have ''hands.'' All I have are these things." He held up his hands, and I couldst see them clearly for the first time. For they were not hands in truth but paws, if a bit more mobile that those on a real rabbit. His fingers hath all been drastically shortened, and the even coating of white fur made them seem to be covered by slick mittens. His fork was wedged between two fingers, mayhap the only way he couldst hold it. "It's going to be nearly impossible to do anything, now."

"It's your own fault for making the gloves like that," Buck pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. But what's fun for a few hours isn't always all that great when you have to live with it for the rest of your life."

I couldst certainly agree with him, there!

Robin spoke now, the first utterance in some while. "My Lady, I hath been considering. Much now makes sense that little didst ere this. But I dost thinketh we art bespelled."

I doth not be certain what mine expression was on hearing those words. Wide-eyed? Open-mouthed? But tis certain that I was shocked to the core. I hath all this day been wondering at the manner to best tell him that truth, and then he doth realize it for himself!

"I understand, now, why you called me by an untrue name. Yea, and friend Scott as well. The strange questions thou both put to me... Didst thou thinketh I wouldst forget? But now tis a weight off my mind, for I see at last the method behind thine seeming madness."

"Thou art not upset?" I asked warily. "That I didst not tell thee? Nor that you are not..."

"Myself? Nay, I am still mine own self!" His laugh echoed throughout the room. "What I was before matters little. And whether I be a day old or a century, I am still Robin Hood!"

The twas much as he had described, a great weight gone from mine mind. Twas wrong of me, not to have faith in my lover. Twould be much unlike my Robin to become morose at misfortune — especially when tis not his misfortune.

"You remember your old self now?" Phil asked.

"Not a whit!" Robin said cheerfully. "And whilst some shalt surely mourn the passing of friend Gary, I shalt miss him not at all."

Buck's ears twitched. "Yet you remember your old name."

"Tis only because others hath mentioned it to me." Robin waved his wing dismissively before turning abruptly to me. "But come, my dear Lady. Thou art at an advantage, I now realize. For thou knoweth mine previous name, and I reckon some of mine previous life as well. Yet I know naught of thine."

I squirmed uncomfortably. I couldst not bear the thought of his knowing that I was male only yesterday. Though judging by his reactions of a moment ago he couldst well just shrug off the news, twould be ''me'' who still must tell it — and before near-strangers, yet! I couldst feel myself blushing beneath my fur, mine ears growing pink at the very thought.

"Though I still retain many memories of myself ere Xanadu," I began, carefully choosing mine words, "methinks twould be best if thou simply calleth me Marian. For that is whose body I clearly wear now, and tis by that name that I think of myself."

"Aah, a secret, is it?" Robin crowed. "Well, tis mine calling to pry out secrets. I shalt make guesses, then. Let me see... a beauty like thine own wouldst have a beautiful name. Marian doth be the most beautiful, of course, but there are others. Gwennyth? Meridith?"

Mine ears positively glowed now, as I realized that he wouldst guess all women's names. That he wouldst never guess rightly wouldst save me from some embarrassment, but only at the cost of embarrassment of a different sort — a lonelier sort, for if no other felt either side of it then I must perforce be the only one who felt both sides at once.

Twas then that our food arrived at last, saving me from enduring more of Robin's guesswork. For a time conversation ceased as we enjoyed our meals. The food was not the freshest I've had, but twas tasty enough. Robin was quite pleased with his own, proclaiming that the French hath for once done something better than any Englishman ever had. Our friends had little left on their plates by then, but they took the opportunity to eat what was there. Phil had trouble with his fork, to no-one's surprise, and punctuated each time it slipped his grasp with mutters that we were all too polite to call him on for content.

"It's a good thing we're all herbivores here," Buck said. "I'm not sure what my reaction would be to eating with a wolf or a lion or something across the table. Too afraid of being the meal, I think."

"Be not hasty with thy judgments," Robin advised around a beakful of bread. "We didst stay briefly with a friend at his house, and he hath become part tiger. Yet we didst not fear for our feathers."

"I daresay that wouldst depend on the person," I pointed out. "Some may well try to eat such as me and thee. Each shalt need to be approached cautiously until we doth be sure of their minds."

"Struth."

"Why didn't you stay with your friend?" Phil asked. "I'm sure staying there would be safer, at least for the next few days until things settle down."

"Or stabilize, anyway," Buck said.

"We were chased from his home. Though not by him!" I added hastily at the looks upon their faces.

At that Robin didst launch into a telling of our escape from Xanadu, the ride to Scott's house, and the battle with the Kestagian Mage. This last came complete with pantomimed throws and shakes at the appropriate times. My mate didst tell the tale ten times better, and with a hundred times the verve, than surely I wouldst have.

"Are you sure he said he was a ''Kestagian'' Mage?" Buck asked, leaning forward.

"So he claimeth."

"Doth this be important?" I asked. "Hath thee dealings with such ere now?"

"Not as such, no. There were no such things before today, remember." Robin and I both nodded understanding — though it seemed even I needed reminding now and again. "But I do know of them. I was an avid gamer before this all happened, after all. Still am, I guess."

I nodded thoughtfully, seeing where this was headed. But Robin cocked his head, puzzled. "What sorts of games didst thou play? And what hath this to do with our adversary?"

"Role-playing games," Buck said. "People generally sit around a table and play characters on a quest, and a lot of actions, like trying to hit someone with a sword, are determined by dice rolled and used against the statistics of the wielder and the target. It's pretty complicated, and fairly irrelevant except for one thing.

"You see, these things come with tons of pre-made monsters to fight against at the gamemaster's choosing. And I remember seeing a listing for a 'Kestagian Mage' in one of the books."

Now this was news! "You know, then, what they art! And how to defeat them!" I exclaimed, clapping mine hands merrily.

"No. They're monsters for ''Traps and Treasures''. It's a D&D competitor, but it's not very good. The formulas are badly flawed, making most things either too underpowered to be useful or so overpowered as to be ridiculous. I've stayed away from playing it. But I was browsing through one of its rulebooks some months back, and I remember seeing an entry for 'Kestagian Mage.'"

"Dost thou remember ''anything'' about them?" Robin pressed. "Any knowledge you giveth wouldst be more than we have now."

The deer thought for a few moments. "Well, they're undead, for one thing, D&D's equivalent of a lich. So fire might do some damage, though I doubt it'd kill one. I remember that they had different powers and weaknesses than liches, too, but not what they are."

So. We didst know a bit more, then, of the one that pursueth us. Mayhap we had a weapon, mayhap not. But knowing it didst come from a game told me how best to proceed. On the morrow, however. Twas far too late now.

"Thankee for thine help," I said to them.

"No problem," Buck replied dismissively. "I didn't help all that much, after all."

"Nay, thou has aided us greatly," said Robin, "and provided fine company besides. Truly doth I call thee friends."

"Well, thanks. Ah, here's the check," Phil said, and paused. "Um, do you have the money to pay for this?"

"Of course," I said, and took a few silver pennies from mine purse. "This, methinks, shouldst suffice for such a meal as that."

"And a bit more, I'd say," Phil said slowly, eyeing the coins. "But most places don't take silver. That is real silver, right?"

"Of course."

"Right. I think I'd better pay for this one."

It hurt mightily to have our meals bought for us as if we were paupers. Still, I didst understand the need, though I didst give him the coins in exchange. In turn, he didst allow us to sleep in his trailer for the night, rather than seeking out an inn. Twas a grand gesture, as he wouldst of a certainty have been caught up in things had the evil mage tracked us down once more. Thus I didst give him a full gold shilling, for I judged the risk didst not be small.

His trailer was in the parking lot, the size of a small peasant's hut. Twas towed by a car much like Sam's, but newer. "Buck and I got together at my place in Tennessee a week ago," Phil explained, "and drove down here for the con. Now I hope to get far enough north that we'll be out of any large-scale quarantine that the feds might try to set up."

Twas a bit cramped inside at first, for it had only been built to sleep two. Phil graciously gave us the beds, taking the car's seat for himself since he was so much smaller. Buck was relegated to a handful of blankets in its cargo bed.

The next morning we ate at Denny's once more, for if the staff was less than congenial at least we were assured service. We didst not desire wasting time in searching about for a place that might do us better. The only difference from our orders of last night was that I joined my mate in having french toast. Horses eat grains, I reasoned, and breads art grains. Thus I thought the choice safe, and was indeed proved right. Twas a nice change from greens.

After we broke our fast we gathered at Phil's car to journey. In truth Robin and I rode in the trailer. We drove but a short distance before halting briefly, and then we were off once more. But again the trip was short, at least as measured in time, before we stopped. This time Phil and Buck entered the trailer with us.

"Well, here I think we part ways," Phil said. "You told us you needed to find a few things, so I'll let you off here. And until you get some of those coins exchanged for cash... well, this should tide you over for a few days." He pressed a handful of bills into Robin's wing.

"My thanks to ye, good sir," Robin said, and bowed. "Ye hath been the very essence of hospitality. But this is overmuch! Tis we who give out money to those in need!"

They laughed. "True enough," Phil said, and Buck nodded his agreement. "But Lady Marian, here, already gave me more in gold and silver than I just gave you. Keep that in mind, by the way; a few of these coins should last you a week or more. Don't waste 'em on trivial crap."

"Language, good sir! There doth be a Lady present."

"Ah. Yes. And to her I offer my apologies."

"Fret not. I hath no doubts that I shalt hear far worse in my life," I said. Then, "But why dost thou leaveth us? Art thou so eager to part ways?"

Buck shook his head emphatically. "No, it's got nothing to do with you, except maybe indirectly. As he said, you need a few things, so we're dropping you off here. But there's no way we're going in. Way, way too many people."

"I also still want to get ahead of any quarantine," Phil added, ears twitching anxiously. "I didn't hear of any on the radio — except for the convention center itself, that is — and it'd be kind of late to set one up now, but who knows? Nobody ever said the feds were smart."

When we stepped outside, we didst find ourselves in a truly enormous field of cars, set before a windowless building the size of a palace. I giggled. "Verily this doth be the perfect place to set us," I told them. "We shalt find all we need here." We said our fare-thee-wells and watched them drive off, and then made our way to the entrance of the mall.

Inside was a wonder, though moreso to Robin than mine own self. He stood a while gaping at the marvelous place even as people gaped at us. "Gawk later, love," I told him. "We shalt have time after our chores are over. How much money didst friend Phil give unto us?"

"This much," he said, handing over the bundle of folded paper.

All told, twas a full thousand dollars between mine hooflets. I wondered briefly if the rabbit had truly given us less than he gained, but I had been not exact regarding exchange rates e'en before this change, and with Marian's knowledge and memories blurring mine own twas impossible to say. Besides, they hath already gone, so twas little use worrying over the fairness of the exchange.

Still, I knew that this was no small sum. Twould surely tide us over for a week or two, or even three were we careful. I placed it all in my purse; Robin was a good man, and a wonder for gaining cash, but generally helpless when it came to holding onto it.

I still was displeased at the loss of my dress and having to walk about, I felt, barely clothed. Thus our first chores was to find me a new dress. And chore it was. The propetiers were little help. Those that didn't shy away from our approach couldst only show what they had, and what they had wouldst show more fur than cloth, as often as not. Not that Robin wouldst mind me trying one of them!

After a long search I relented, and tried one of the garments. The woman aiding me seemed to think it too dowdy, but at least it covered a decent amount of flesh. Much to my surprise — and Robin's, and most notably the merchant's! — upon fastening the last button the cloth seemed to melt and run along mine body. Its color changed from a brown that matched my fur to a light blue, with frills and lace. I couldst feel another layer of skirts unfurling about my legs, until in the end I wore a gown fitting for one of my station and a beautiful style that I much enjoyed.

A few trials proved that anything I wore wouldst behave in this way, though each dress changed in a different manner. Though Robin was sore disappointed at the loss of seeing me in modern garb, I was well pleased, for I thus wouldst not require custom tailoring in order to own suitable clothes. And since the dresses reverted upon removal, they were much simpler to store and lighter to carry.

The next task was to find Robin a new bow. After a few inquiries we found there was a good-sized sporting goods store in the mall. And amongst all the various balls and shirts and jackets was a wall full of equipment for hunting. Decoys, scents, camouflage, bullets and bows. Verily, quite a few bows.

"Hath thee any guns?" Robin asked the young lad behind the counter.

"Um... uh, no. No," he stammered. The boy looked like he hath been struck on the head, the way he looked at us was so peculiar. "We got ammo, but the chain won't let us sell the actual weapons inside a mall." He scratched his head in thought, looking so comically puzzled that I couldst not restrain the giggles that escaped mine lips. "What do you want with a gun, anyway? Robin Hood used... whatchamacallem... arrows."

"Indeed so! But... ah, well. Another time, perchance." Robin shrugged. "Since I am an archer, I doth require a bow. Bring out your finest, so that I might try a wing on it."

"Uh... wing. Right." In short order the lad — his name, according to the tag on his breast, was Howard, and he fit the name — set down two bows on the counter before us. One was of the familiar double-curved sort, though made of hard plastic instead of good English yew. The other was some contraption that didst seems more pulleys than bow.

"And what is that, then?" Robin cried. He picked it up and turned it about in his hands to marvel at.

"Um, it's called a, a compound bow."

"It doth look more belike to a ship's rigging than a weapon!"

"I think thou hath hit on it, love," I said. "Tis likely that is how twas devised."

Robin was shown how to change the tension on the bowstring. He immediately tested his might against the full strength of the draw, and found it to be to his satisfaction. Twas a great improvement over the old type he hath been used to, he declared. And when he learned it fired with strength greater than it drew, his mind was set. He wouldst never willingly use regular bows again.

We bought the compound bow, after some time testing to see if this one was indeed the best of the lot. We also didst buy some dozens of arrows. They were made of metal, which we thought odd. ("Wooden arrows sometimes shatter when shot from a compound bow, sometimes even in the air. They're just too weak to take the bow's power," Howard told us, which impressed us both all over again.) And lastly, we bought the tools and waxes and glues necessary to properly maintain the weapon, along with a variety of arrowheads. They were perforce necessary, but strangely not sold with the arrows.

Between Robin's purchases and mine own, we had used up over half of Phil's largesse. But there was still one more place of import, one more visit to make ere we could rest and eat our midday meal.

"This is a place of mystic research?" Robin asked doubtfully as he took in the mess. Thin rectangular boxes were stacked everywhere, interspersed liberally with puzzles and more esoteric items. "The clutter doth seem aright for a wizard's den, but the things look not mystical to mine eyes."

"Still, tis the place."

"Oh, my God! Awesome!" This from the person behind the counter. Short and thin, he was even younger than was Howard; I doubted a razor hath touched his chin more than a dozen times. "I'd heard about that convention yesterday, I wish I'd gone! I had the greatest costume for Halloween, too..."

"After all the worried, frightened looks we had gotten since yesterday, the boy's sheer envy was a welcome relief. Still, we had wandered long, and were weary. Twas a poor state in which to properly receive a fan.

Thankee. Truly, thankee," I said with a curtsey. "But we hath need of thine assistance."

"Really? Oh, God. This is so cool!" he gushed. "Oh, I'm Max. Pleased to meetcha! Welcome to The Gamesman!"

"Thankee. I -"

"So whacha need help with? An RPG, right? You guys became characters from a game! That's so cool! What system?"

"Uh..." I faltered to a halt. Max's enthusiasm was becoming overwhelming.

"'Traps and Treasures,'" Robin supplied.

"Yes. Thankee, love."

Max's face screwed up like he had bitten into a beef pie and found it filled with offal. "Why would you use ''that'' system? It's a piece of shit!"

Robin's voice was dangerously low when he said, "Watch thy tongue, child, lest I cut it off. Tis a Lady ye speak to!"

Max blanched when he realized Robin's eyes were hard and one wing rested on the knife at his side. "Uh, s-sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean... uh, this way!"

"Many thanks."

We found but three books under the 'Traps and Treasures' title, and one was a duplicate of another. Max didst apologize profusely for the lack of choice, telling us at length how the store was phasing out the system from its shelves. He acted as if afraid we wouldst grow offended at him for it. Twas a pitiful sight, like a puppy kicked and now afraid even as it was still eager to please.

We were well pleased to buy the two books and be away from him.

Lunch was a noisy affair, loud enough that my ears were laid flat as we ate. Robin had a beef burrito, whereas I needs must satisfy myself with one filled merely with beans and rice. I was unsure if horses ate such fare, and thus it was something of an experiment. So far it was turning out well enough. I was glad that vegetarian dishes hath become increasingly popular over the last few years, making the available dishes tolerably broad.

I watched him eat his food with envy, despite the disgustingly meaty odors wafting from his side of the table. Twas most unfair. Twas my idea, my work, my costumes, yet twas he who hath all the gains. Wit, skill with many weapons, and he couldst even fly, or at least glide for a bit. And what hath I? A major dietary restriction, hooves, and a dress. True, like my love Robin I had gained some skills, but embroidery was useless, as was the ability to efficiently run a castle staff (unless I didst somehow become manager of a large hotel, I reckoned). That I had a shapely body and had retained my own mind to some degree seemed little comfort.

All the walking about the mall's hard floors had made mine hooves sore. I sighed and rubbed my aching fetlocks, and tried hard to ignore the stares of fascinated and curious shoppers so I couldst concentrate on the books.

That was another good thing — though in reality it shouldst be considered the lack of a bad thing. I couldst still read. Robin, it turned out, couldst not.

Twas therefore up to me to pore over the volumes in search of information that might prove useful. The task was not quick, even once I found the area pertaining to Kestagian Mages, for what I needed was inconveniently spread out amongst multiple chapters.

"Listen to this," I told him, interrupting his inspection of the silk plant next to our table. "A Kestagian Mage is an evil wizard that doth be powerful enough to place his soul in a container for safekeeping. No reason doth be given for why it must be an evil mage, I shouldst add. At any rate, this maketh him effectively immortal. Ye canst do anything thy wish to him, but his essence will remain, and it casnt cast healing spells on whatever doth be left of his body, even were it merely ash."

"So it doth be unstoppable."

"Nay. Remember this doth be a game, and tis a poor game that doth not ever let the player win."

"I knoweth some games like that. And by all reports, this doth be a poor game."

I giggled. "Verily, verily. Thou shouldst see what such artifacts as the Rock of Rama-Lama or the Sceptre of Sidhe-Baup canst do! But tis not the case this time, or not in that way. The creature's weakness is his Aelpa. Which is what it thought you had, and I daresay it may be correct."

Robin cocked his head. "Oh?"

"Tis what the game hath named the vessel for the thing's soul. Tis always a diamond, and a mage who has a Kestagian's Aelpa canst do certain things to or with the creature. Cast spells through him like an artifact, using the Kestagian's magic rather than his own. Control him, bind him, or of course destroy him."

Robin's eyes turned thoughtful. "I canst see why our little friend wouldst be so eager to regain it, then. Let us see what I hath in the way of diamonds."

For one terrible moment, as Robin reached for the bag full of gems and jewelry at his side, I didst imagine he was going to simply dump the contents out on the table. But all he didst was to open the drawstring and poke through it with one wing, much like a child examining his marbles. Every now and again he wouldst snatch something from within, but it remained discretely in his palm.

At the end of it, twas a total of seven gems deposited on the tray. The smallest was a circle perhaps a quarter of an inch across; the largest was shaped like an elongated teardrop, and was nearly two inches in length.

"So, then," Robin mused aloud, "all we must do is find the correct diamond amongst these and smash it, and he shalt be undone?" He fingered the largest. "Twould be a true shame, were this the one."

"Nay. It wouldst not be."

"What? But of course it wouldst! See here, tis a gem unsurpassed!"

"Ye misunderstand me. This," I said, tapping the pages with a hooflet, "says the gem cannot be destroyed by normal means. Tis only vulnerable to magic."

"Then we find a mage..."

I shook my head. "All those at Xanadu wouldst have scattered ere now, and I know not of others. Another way dost be to restrain the enemy, and then maketh him swallow it. With his soul within his body once more, he canst be killed by whatever means thou desire."

"Dost thou have any ideas how to restrain a mage who doth not will it?"

I paused for long moments, frowning. "Nay. The game doth assume there wouldst be a mage in the party."

"Methinks it a foolish assumption," Robin said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Doth there be anything else told about him, or his Aelpa?"

"Quite a bit," I said, and flipped to a new chapter. "The Aelpa does many things, but two of real interest to us. The first is that it allows him to effortlessly assume a disguise, usually that of a normal human. Methinks that is why we doth not remember him from Xanadu; he looked like any other person with a lot of jewelry. But the main tidbit wouldst be how it is tracked by its true owner."

"Ah!"

"Yea, verily tis how he didst find us. If we like, we canst simply discard the diamonds and be done with him." I didst not like the notion of leaving an evil mage free to wreck what havoc he willed, but I felt the option needs must be exposed.

Robin's beak somehow managed a frown. "Nay... I want him dealt with. I didst not much like how he treated thee."

"Agreed, on both counts," I said. "But there is one very interesting thing to note, regarding the tracking. To wit, his accuracy in knowing his Aelpa's location doth be of ''inverse'' proportion to its distance from him!"

"I doth not be sure I understand thee..."

"I meaneth that when he is ten miles away from it, he canst pin its location down to the inch, for whatever good it does. He canst point straight at it," I said, and demonstrated. "At a mile, he knoweth where it is to within a foot. But at a thousand feet he canst only tell that it is somewhere in a ten-foot cube — and he canst not be certain it doth be at the center, either. And when he doth get to within a hundred feet of it -" and now I smiled "- he canst only tell that he is within a hundred feet. Beyond that he simply canst not get a better fix."

Robin thought on that for a few moment. "He still canst find it by traversing the boundary at a hundred feet," he mused. "He couldst find the center that way."

"True enough. I suspect that most of the people running this game assumeth it to be a gradual decrease in accuracy, with these measurements as milestones of sorts. But that doth not be how tis written, and I am unsure how the curse would translate it. But e'en if it shouldst be a sharp jump like thou noticed, our opponent must think of the tactic before he canst use it, and I hath not been too impressed by his cleverness yet."

"Nor I, now that ye mention it."

"Exactly. And thus I think I have a plan for how to handle this."

Robin sat up straighter in his chair and sent a sharp look my way. "''Thou'' hath a plan for battle? A woman?"

I blew him another raspberry. "Thou hath no cause to look so surprised, dear! I doth not be just some pretty mare to hang off your arm and embroider thine shirts for thee!"

"My apologies, dear Lady." Robin actually stood and bowed to me. "I didst not mean to mock. What, then, is thy plan?"

It didst not take long to tell, for twas quite simple. Robin pointed out a few flaws, made a few suggestions, and asked no small number of questions. But there was little preparation needed. We had only to wait.

That night, as the mall was near to closing, we casually strolled into one of the department stores and headed towards the rear. Twas there that the bathrooms were, but we didst avoid them for the same reason we avoided the changing rooms scattered about the store: workers were savvy enough by now to check those after hours. Instead we went to one of the janitor's closets. Robin picked the lock with some hairpins we'd bought earlier, and we slipped inside unnoticed. Other than a quick check to confirm that it didst not lock on the inside, our task was simply to keep silent and wait once more.

Twas very dark in there, and I actually dozed for some time. I was awakened by a feathery nudge. "They hath been gone for nearly an hour," he whispered. "I thinketh that be long enough."

I nodded, then remembered that birds hath poor night vision. He couldst not possibly see me. "We art lucky the mage hath waited this long. We shouldst hurry, now."

Without another word Robin cracked open the door to peer outside. It must have met his satisfaction, for the rest of him followed a moment later. By the time I blinked my eyes into adjusting themselves to the greater light — twas dim, but far brighter than the closet — Robin had already crossed the hall and was picking the yet another lock with a remarkable skill and silence.

I said a silent prayer to the Lord that the hinges wouldst not squeak as they moved.

They didst not. Robin entered the room beyond silently and unobserved whilst I stayed motionless outside, lest the clops of mine hooves give the game away. There was a cry from within, then a soft thump. My heart raced, hoping... and then Robin poked his beak back into the hallway. "Tis clear, now."

I entered, and took in the sight. A young woman in a security guard's uniform lay sprawled on the floor. Above her was a bank of monitors, numbering half a dozen. Notebook full of paperwork lined the shelves along one wall.

"Surely thou hath not..." I gestured at the woman.

Robin shook his head. "She merely sleeps, though her head shalt ache terribly on the waking."

I released a breath I didst not realize I held. What we had already done was bad enough, but killing her wouldst have made our future very tenuous indeed. "Tie her and gag her, then, whilst I search for the proper notebook."

There was no rope in the security center, of course, so he resorted to tying her hands with a power cord cut from a radio. Before he dragged her off to confine her in the same closet we'd just left, I made sure to take the nametag from her lapel. I wouldst need it soon.

Finally I didst find the correct page of the correct notebook. "Say nothing," I reminded Robin. He nodded, and I took a deep breath. This wouldst be the most difficult part of the night, other than the battle itself. If I made an error here, things wouldst likely turn out very poorly indeed — and an error was more likely than not.

I read the numbers from the page one more time, memorizing them. Then I reached for the phone and dialed.

"AmerAlarm," the woman on the other end said pleasantly. "This is Michelle Young. How can we help you?"

"Hey, hi Michelle. This is account 15539-2377. Could you put all the alarms and alerts on hold, please?" I concentrated furiously on the words as I spoke them. Twas a major effort to speak this way, without any Olde English at all seeping into mine speech.

"Certainly, ma'am. Do you have the pass code there with you?"

"That I do. It's, ah, 612934."

"Thank you," Michelle replied. "And how long do you want this to go for?"

"Until 0800," I said, making sure to use modern military time. I couldst feel sweat on my brow at the effort of saying things correctly. "We're going to be running some tests all night."

"All right, you're all set. And what is your name, please?"

"Sandy. Sandy Middleton," I told her, reading from the nametag.

"Got it. The police will not be called in on any alarms or alerts until eight o'clock tomorrow. Thank you for calling AmerAlarm, Miss Middleton!"

"Thanks a lot. Later!" I hung up the phone and dropped heavily into the chair. (Thankfully, there was an actual opening that didst fit my tail well.) Twas done! All those years of watching cop shows had just paid off. I wiped the sweat off and smiled reassuringly at my mate.

"I am most glad twas thee who made the call," he said gravely. "I could never have spoken as thou just hast."

I nodded wearily. We were lucky the guard had been a woman and we both knew it — even if it had pained Robin to strike her down from behind. And it had, I knew.

Once I had collected myself we left the room. I had to step over the broken broomhandle Robin had wedged beneath the closet's doorjamb on the way out to the store proper, but otherwise paid it no mind.

The sound of my hooves against the tile floor was eerie in the silence. The store was nearly all dark, with only patches of light at the exits and a few places within. It lent the place a downright spooky air. I hoped twould not be a long wait. I had waited enough that day, and was tired of it.

Thankfully, the department I was to wait in was well lit. It made sense enough — the jewelry section hath perhaps the highest-priced items in the store. And twould do well for the plan, as well. What it wouldst do for me was another matter.

We didst not bother to pick any locks, this time. We simply smashed the glass cases open. Somewhere, most probably back in the security room, alarms began to sound, but we ignored them. Twas a wondrously seductive feeling, to wreck such damage with neither restraint nor worry of interruption.

But twas not without purpose. The cases needed to be open for my plan to work, and the diamonds on display wouldst be difficult to find amongst all the broken glass. To make it harder yet we removed the dark felt trays at the cases' bottoms. We didst not take any jewelry, however, and it had not been easy at all to convince Robin of ''that'' aspect, for certain!

That done, twas nothing left to do. I kissed Robin's cheek once for luck, then he jogged away to take his position.

I may have been — I ''was'' — tired of waiting, but that didst not mean I was done with it. For a long time I simply stood there, or paced. Twas no small risk for me to be standing there in that pool of light like a worm on a hook.

For twas exactly the role I filed: bait. With me here, amongst the ruined cases, the mage wouldst have little choice but to believe we had hidden his Aelpa in amongst the more common diamonds. A purloined letter, of sorts. And thus he wouldst be forced to search the wreckage for it, leaving himself open for Robin to play ''his'' role.

We couldst only hope I was not killed before he could.

And so I stood, and paced, and worried. Mine thoughts and fears ran wild. Wouldst he come? Wouldst we know it? Or doth he have some magical means of arrival we wouldst never detect? Couldst we even defeat him, or was this a futile effort?

When doth the guard's relief show up?

My eyes widened as I realized I had failed to consider it. But the shifts were likely a mere eight hours, and the logical time for a changeover wouldst thus be midnight, not eight o'clock.

Desperately I wheeled about, searching for a clock. But there was none. No doubt there were some in with the electronics, but in here there were only... I fair to leapt at a case and rooted through the shards for a watch.

11:22

Two other watches confirmed the time. We wouldst have to leave immediately were we to avoid the police. I tossed them back in the case and turned to leave, mouth open to call out.

Twas at that moment that I heard a voice from the darkness, not twenty paces distant. "So ''there'' you are," it rasped, instantly setting my fur on end. "But where, oh where, is good Robin Hood, hmm?"

That question was the one thing we couldst not adequately hide or explain away. Twas our main weakness, and our one hope — that he wouldst be too concerned over recovering his Aelpa to ask it — had just failed. "He left," I said simply, and stepped to one side. I couldst barely see him in the gloom, but it was clear enough that he had, whether by luck or design, approached from exactly the opposite side from where Robin lay, putting me in the line of fire.

"Sir Robin ran away? Brave, ''brave,'' Sir Robin?" the Kestagian mocked, and stepped into the light. If anything, he looked worse than he had last night. His head looked soft, like the skull was still too badly broken to hold the correct shape. "Now why don't I believe that?"

He gestured suddenly, and I flung myself to the floor in a tangle of skirts as a bolt of lightning crackled by overhead. There was the crunching of glass under a booted heel as the mage jumped the cases to get at me again. "Robin!" I cried desperately as I scrambled to get up, or at least around a corner. Why hath he not fired?

The soft-edged whir of an arrow cutting through the air answered that. It hit the decaying mage with a meaty smack, embedding itself perfectly where the heart shouldst be. He staggered back, forced by the impact to steady himself against a case.

But he didst not fall. "''There'' you are, Robin!" he cried out almost joyfully. "I almost started to believe her!" His hand moved, and something I couldst not rightly see flew from him at my love. There was a squawk, and the mage trotted his way, leaving me on the floor.

"I was worried, oh yes I was," he enthused. I gathered my skirts and took the opportunity to get out of the maze of displays. "Worried I wouldn't be able to pay you back for last night. Wasn't nice, running me over like that! Now I have to kill you, you know. You do know that, right?"

I couldst hear Robin as he ran along the aisles. Why had the mage not fallen? I had managed to fashion a pouch for the diamonds and attach it behind the missile's broadhead tip. That shouldst have been the end of it! What went wrong?

There was another whir, another meaty impact. Again it was met with laughter, not anguish. There was a whoosh and a flash as the Kestagian tossed fire from his fingertips. "You never learn, do you? That whole ambush, just to futilely shoot me again! You're pathetic!"

More arrows, another fireball. But this time there was a cry of pain — from Robin. The mage was ''playing'' with him, enjoying drawing out the hunt because he hath proven himself invulnerable to anything we couldst throw at him. Robin was still running around the outer aisles; if he kept this up he wouldst make a complete circuit of the store.

I began to trot, myself, trying hard to get away and keep ahead of them. The sound of mine hooves gave me away, but twould be even worse were I caught in the midst of this battle with no viable weapon, and no available weapon wouldst suffice. The smooth tile was not the best for running on, especially in the state of near-panic that was growing within me. I fell to mine knees as I skidded around one corner.

I sobbed once as I got up. Twas such a ''good'' plan! It didst not deserve to fail! ''We'' didst not deserve it, didst not deserve to be toyed with and ''tortured'' by a sadist who is himself immune from harm! But deserving or no, twas happening.

Another slip, another skid, this one violent enough to knock mine muzzle against the floor. Twas well it did, for it didst also knock some sense back into my skull. I looked around. My flight had taken me to the department in which Robin had hid himself: men's shoes. I stifled a giggle at the incongruous thought that mayhap I shouldst try some on so I couldst run better.

Tis then I noticed the lump, nearly right in front of my nose.

I snatched it up instantly and bounded to my hooves. Twas no wonder Robin's shot failed! The enormous force of the compound bow had ripped the pouch away from the arrow when he released his shot. On another day it might have been humorous, like some cartoon, but tonight it just may spell our downfall. But if I couldst get the diamonds to Robin, perhaps we might still live to see the morrow.

Now I trotted through the store with a different purpose. But when I rounded the last corner, my hoped crashed. The Kestagian was no longer enjoying the chase; he was enjoying the ''catch.''

As last night, Robin was held suspended in midair, legs and wings spread wide. There didst not be any lightning running through his feathers, yet patches had been burned away during the chase, leaving ugly wounds on the flesh beneath. And even as I watched a number of feathers flew away from his body, seemingly of their own accord, trailing blood as they sailed off.

"Gonna pluck you, little chicken," the mage gloated, and Robin jerked as another handful was ripped bloodily away. "I'll rip you apart and serve you for dinner! Then I'll find my Aelpa and make glue out of your dear, ''sweet'' love!"

Robin's roar of anguish couldst not possibly be due merely to the painful loss of his plumage. I couldst see his muscles bunch as he tried to free himself from whatever force held him. But his captor only glanced his way and his limbs thrust themselves to full extension — and beyond. It didst look like wings and legs wouldst be flying away next, not merely handfuls of feathers, and a red haze clouded mine sight.

Mine jog turned into a run, a sprint. I cared not at all for the noise mine hooves made now as I bolted for them. The mage was still intent on the torture of Robin — of my love, my mate, my life! He didst not turn at the sound of mine approach, not until I was a bare handful of yards away.

Despite the surprise evident on his face he still managed to raise a hand in my direction. Twas not enough time to fire off whatever spell he had in mind, however, before I slammed into him, knocking him back with all the force and weight of a pony. The air whuffed from his lungs as he reeled on his feet, and mine fist shot out to punch him. The fist holding the diamonds.

Horses art not weak creatures, even when they walked on two legs rather than four. The hard hooflets that covered the last joint of each finger wouldst make for a debilitating blow to anyone, shouldst I ever put the full strength of mine arms behind them. Panicked by the pursuit and enraged over my lover's torture, twas devastating. Mine hand hit his chest and kept going through skin already weakened by rot and a multitude of arrows. His ribs crunched beneath my hooflets as I followed through.

The creature looked down at his chest, at mine arm plunging deep into it. Slowly he backed himself away, and my arm emerged from within with a sickening slurp. But I had released the pouch, and all the diamonds remained somewhere in his body.

The game book had said to return a Kestagian's soul to him by somehow making him swallow his Aelpa. But it had also stated that life wouldst return to the mage once it was "within his body." Now he screamed, wailing loudly as life returned to his body — the same body that had been shot a dozen times and sported a gaping hole in its chest. Blood poured from his wounds, thick and foul-smelling. He collapsed to his knees and clutched feebly at his chest, perhaps to remove the pouch. But twas thrust deep. He wailed one last time, eyes full of disbelief, and died in a growing pool of blood.

I stood for long seconds over the body. Gore matted my fur to the elbow and had spattered all over my brand new dress, but I had eyes only on the body before me. As hard as it may have been for him to believe his life was over, twas even harder for me to believe I had been the one to end it.

Then I didst remember Robin, and I rushed to his side. He looked unwell, indeed not much better than the Kestagian. Patches of feathers had been burnt or ripped away, and he moved stiffly as he regained his feet.

"Is it dead?" he asked, his words sounding strange because he didst not dare move even his beak overmuch.

"Tis," I said, and kissed him full on the mouth. Neither beaks nor muzzles were well designed for it, but I didst manage. "And we art not. We hath won, love!"

"Wonderful. You did wonderful, dear."

"I daresay. Tis good to see you play the role of damsel in distress for once!"

He tried to give me a raspberry this time, but beaks art not built for them like muzzles. He settled for rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, but I fear we must... must away from this place." Robin swayed on his feet momentarily. "I need a place to recover."

"Mayhap we canst find a friendly inn this night," I suggested.

"Good. Yes. Then we canst plot out... our future plans. What doth we do about all those poor you told me about. Those ones without homes to put their fridges in."

I let him lean on me as we made our way to the emergency exit where we had stored our day's purchases. "Dost thou really think thou canst help so many people? Tis a noble goal, but..."

"I know not! Tis why I must plan! But I shalt say this for certain," he said, and even wounded he managed to trill an enthusiastic laugh, "I doth be Robin Hood! If anybody canst help the poor, tis I!"

I giggled, and poked him in the ribs. "Do not forget his sidekick, lover, and wife!"

"Ack! Mercy, my Lady! Nay, I shalt never forget thee!"

I smiled. "Good."

We stepped outside together, in each other's arms, and left the wailing of alarms at our backs.

<comments />

----

'''Author's Comments'''

I had helped Bryan work out some of the rules and differences between it and No More Fakes, a predecessor universe with a similar mass transformation at its center. But even after he posted the first Xanadu story, it was quite some time before I did this one. Bryan pretty much pressured me into making it, though, and suggested using one of my fursuits as the basis for it. It didn't take long for me to decide which one to use, but it did take a week or two of thinking before I managed to find a plot that was more than, "Ack, I'm no longer me, what will I do with my life now?" Once I managed that, though, the story took only a little while to write (well, for me it was only a little while), about a month. Other than the slight embarrassment of it being a transgender story (and the obvious corollary that I own and wear a fursuit of a female character), though, I'm happy with it.

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest}}

Where's the Beef?

2007-09-16T00:27:16Z

Xodiac: corrected typos, minor wording changes

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I work when I want to, not by any schedule. Still, I thought, looking at the Elvis clock on the wall swinging its hips, it was about time.

I took a long breath, then opened the store. Someplace in some mall somewhere a vacant stall was being replaced with the distinct storefront of Spells 'R' Us.

It's not usually more than a few minutes before someone who fits all my requirements comes by, and today was no different. Not ten minutes after I moved the store a young man walked in. He looked like a football linebacker: tall and broad, with brown hair and blue eyes and pretty good looks. If he was the quarterback he'd have more women than he could handle. As it is he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting a date. Probably took them for granted.

Perfect.

I watched on the security monitor (a mundane one — why use magic for absolutely everything?) for a few minutes as he browsed. Sometimes I come out of the back nearly immediately, but I felt like playing with this one. What should I make of him, I wondered. A cheerleader in love with his current best friend? No, too cliche. A little girl too young for grade school, much less college? Hm, perhaps. Or what about an old woman? I haven't done that in a while.

In the end I decided to wait. Sometime things make what to do obvious, like two days ago when three seniors entered making nasty coments about Ricky Martin. The three freshman girls who left were much more appreciative. But here nothing was really suggesting itself here. Time to go up front.

As I emerged from the doorway I moved my fingers in the subtle movement that would activate the Knowledge spell. Everything I needed to know flooded into my brain in an instant. "Hello, Robert. What can I do for you today?" The spell had told me that already, but it's not good to show too much knowledge you're not supposed to have too soon. It scares the customers away, and that's no fun.

"How did you know...?" the young man — he was indeed a linebacker — asked in the usual puzzled tone.

"I'm a wizard, of course." You'd think more people would recognize my robe for what it is. "You don't think a place like this would be run by anything less, do you?"

"Uh... right."

He thinks I'm crazy, or at least playing around. I decided it was time to blow his mind. A little earlier than usual, but what the heck. "So what do you need? A love potion to get that girl you want? Or, no, wait. You already have Alice." Robert's eyes went wide. "What about a present for her? Her birthday is coming up, I understand." His mouth opened in an O of surprise. "Or... wait, I have it. You need a costume!"

Robert's mouth dropped wide open. "But... but.. how did you know that?! I mean... ''how?''"

I smiled, feeling a warm glow deep inside me. I ''live'' for that moment.
But it was time to back off a little; the bait was hooked, but he hasn't quite bitten yet and I could still scare off the fish if I wasn't careful.

"The party's not a new thing. Surely you don't think I didn't know about it from other customers?" He was the first customer for this party, of course, but he'd never know that.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I need a costume for the frat party. But the other stores just have crap like pirates and rabbits and stuff. I was hoping for something more interesting, like a lizardman or something."

"Well, if you want interesting, you've certainly come to the right place. Let me go in back and see what I have in your size. Wait here."

I stepped back through the door. My office had been replaced with the enormous storeroom — the man who invented the Roaming Portal spell was a genius — and the costume section was nearby. Everything was nearby, really, including the costume I had in mind for him.

"Here you go," I said as I re-entered the shop. "I'm afraid this is all I had in your size. It's a minotaur costume."

"A minotaur, huh? That's a bull mixed with a human, right?" Robert asked as he took the bundle from my arms and looked at the mask.

"Pretty much, although in this case it's a cow." I shrugged apologetically, feeling anything but.

Robert's shot his gaze around to me. "A ''cow?'' I can't wear that!"

"Why not? Aren't there prizes for not being recognized? Heck, nobody would even suspect you in that thing! It molds to your body and your body to it; any misplaced bulk will be hidden perfectly. Not that I expect there to be much of that," I said, making sure he noticed me eying his body. I'd picked the costume partly because he was so big. It was too appropriate to resist. "And like I said, it's the only one your size anyway."

That did it. "Okay, how much?"

"Thirty bucks per day."

"That's not cheap," he pointed out.

"It's a good costume. Besides, you only need it tonight."

"True enough." The linebacker pulled out his wallet and counted out thirty dollars. "Here you go. See you tomorrow."

"Just a moment," I called out as I put the money in the register — another mundane item, although there's a few very nonstandard anti-burglary additions I put on it. "There's a few things you need to know."

"What's that?" Robert looked at the door, anxious to get going.

"There's a few rules you need to know. First—"

"Rules? For a costume?" He looked at me like I was insane. "That's stupid."

"That's how it is, my boy," I scolded. "Now, don't rip, break, or otherwise damage the costume in any way. At all." Harder than it sounds, since the club that comes with that minotauress is pretty fragile. "Don't wear it past ten tonight, and bring it in before 10 am tomorrow." That would force him to leave the party ridiculously early, and I knew Robert was not a morning person. "You can't have any alcohol while in the costume or for four hours afterwards." I rather doubted he'd be able to resist, at a frat party. "Don't stain it..." I continued like that for at least two minutes before letting him leave, costume in hand.

I let out a sharp bark of laughter as I returned to the office. Those rules were tedious and complicated. They're hard to pay attention to, much less follow appropriately. He'll be waking up tomorrow as a nice docile dairy cow named Bertha.

The next day I opened in the same mall. I wanted to see my handiwork.

"Hey, wizard! Here you go! Where are you?"

It was Robert! He wasn't a cow at all! I rushed out from the back.

"Oh, hi," he called as he saw me. Then he paused. "What's wrong?" I realized I was staring at him as he set the costume on the counter.

"I, uh..." I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible! "Surprised to see you here, is all."

"Why? I needed to get this back before ten, you said. So here you go." He pushed the bundle at me.

Of course! That has to be it. "Did you even wear it?"

"Oh, sure. Wow, that thing is great. Really made me look like a minotaur woman. Felt like it, too. I even had to piss sitting down!"
Robert shook his head, grinning. "That was an experience, let me tell you."

He wore it? And he's still here? "You stayed away from cigars? No grass eating? No alcohol, milk, or beef? You didn't wear anything other than what came with the costume? You didn't dance?"

Robert shook his head at each question. "No, of course not. You told me not to. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's follow directions."

I looked at him, speechless. He followed the directions.

"I admit, it was hard," he continued when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "I mean, it was a pretty boring party with all those restrictions."

I just stared. He followed the directions!

The young man fidgeted and averted his gaze from me. "I had to leave early, and went to sleep before midnight in order to get here on time."

I can't believe he followed the directions!

"Look, are you all right? Not having a heart attack or anything, are you?"

"No... it's just... Um. Never mind, go home. Have fun. You deserve it."
I scooped up the costume and strode towards the back. By the time I got back to the monitors he was gone.

I dropped by the storeroom and carefully put the costume back on the rack. Then I closed the shop, although not in the normal way. Instead I went to the front and exited the front door, locking it behind me.

There's a good bar in this mall, I knew. Time for a good stiff drink.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Spells_R_Us]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Where's the Beef?}}

Where's the Beef?

2007-09-12T23:40:23Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I work when I want to, not by any schedule.
Still, I thought, looking at the Elvis clock on the wall, it was about time.

I took a long breath, then opened the store. Someplace in some mall somewhere a vacant stall was being replaced with the distinct storefront of Spells 'R' Us.

It's not usually more than a few minutes before someone who fits all my requirements comes by, and today was no different. Not ten minutes after I moved the store a young man walked in. He looked like a football linebacker: tall and broad, with brown hair and blue eyes and pretty good looks. If he was the quarterback he'd have more women than he could handle. As it is he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting a date. Probably took them for granted.

Perfect.

I watched on the security monitor (a mundane one — why use magic for absolutely everything?) for a few minutes as he browsed. Sometimes I come out of the back nearly immediately, but I felt like playing with this one. What should I make of him, I wondered. A cheerleader in love with his current best friend? No, too cliche. A little girl too young for grade school, much less college? Hm, perhaps. Or what about an old woman? I haven't done that in a while.

In the end I decided to wait. Sometime things make what to do obvious, like two days ago when three seniors entered making nasty coments about Ricky Martin. The three freshman girls who left were much more appreciative. But here nothing was really suggesting itself here. Time to go up front.

As I emerged from the doorway I fingers in the subtle movement that would activate the Knowledge spell. Everything I needed to know flooded into my brain in an instant. "Hello, Robert. What can I do for you today?" The spell had told me that already, but it's not good to show too much knowledge you're not supposed to have too soon. It scares the customers away, and that's no fun.

"How did you know...?" the young man — he was indeed a linebacker — asked in the usual puzzled tone.

"I'm a wizard, of course." You'd think more people would recognize my robe for what it is. "You don't think a place like this would be run by anything less, do you?"

"Uh... right."

He thinks I'm crazy, or at least playing around. I decided it was time to blow his mind. A little earlier than usual, but what the heck. "So what do you need? A love potion to get that girl you want? Or, no, wait. You already have Alice." Robert's eyes went wide. "What about a present for her? Her birthday is coming up, I understand." His mouth opened in an O of surprise. "Or... wait, I have it. You need a costume!"

Robert's mouth dropped wide open. "But... but.. how did you know that?! I mean... how!"

I smiled, feeling a warm glow deep inside me. I live for that moment.
But it was time to back off a little; the bait was hooked, but he hasn't quite bitten yet and I could still scare off the fish if I wasn't careful.

"The party's not a new thing. Surely you don't think I know about it from other customers?" He was the first customer for this party, of course, but he'd never know that.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I need a costume for the frat party. But the other stores just have crap like pirates and rabbits and stuff. I was hoping for something more interesting, like a lizardman or something."

"Well, if you want interesting, you've certainly come to the right place. Let me go in back and see what I have in your size. Wait here."

I stepped back through the door. My office had been replaced with the enormous storeroom — the man who invented the Roaming Portal spell was a genius — and the costume section was nearby. Everything was nearby, really, including the costume I had in mind for him.

"Here you go," I said as I re-entered the shop. "I'm afraid this is all I had in your size. It's a minotaur costume."

"A minotaur, huh? That's a bull mixed with a human, right?" Robert asked asx he took the bundle from my arms and looked at the mask.

"Pretty much, although in this case it's a cow." I shrugged apologetically, feeling anything but.

Robert's shot his gaze around to me. "A cow?! I can't wear that!"

"Why not? Aren't there prizes for not being recognized? Heck, nobody would even suspect you in that thing! It molds to your body and your body to it; any misplaced bulk will be hidden perfectly. Not that I expect there to be much of that," I said, making sure he noticed me eying his body. I'd picked the costume partly because he was so big.
It was too appropriate to resist. "And like I said, it's the only one your size anyway."

That did it. "Okay, how much?"

"Thirty bucks per day."

"That's not cheap," he pointed out.

"It's a good costume. Besides, you only need it tonight."

"True enough." The linebacker pulled out his wallet and counted out thirty dollars. "Here you go. See you tomorrow."

"Just a moment," I called out as I put the money in the register — another mundane item, although there's a few anti-burglary additions I put on it. "There's a few things you need to know."

"What's that?" Robert looked at the door, anxious to get going.

"There's a few rules you need to know. First—"

"Rules? For a costume?" He looked at me like I was insane. "That's stupid."

"That's how it is, my boy," I scolded. "Now, don't rip, break, or otherwise damage the costume in any way. At all." Harder than it sounds, since the club that comes with that minotauress is pretty fragile. "Don't wear it past ten pm tonight, and bring it in before 10 am tomorrow." That would force him to leave the party ridiculously early, and I knew Robert was not a morning person. "You can't have any alcohol while in the costume or for the four hours afterwards." I rather doubted he'd be able to resist, at a frat party. "Don't stain it..." I continued like that for at least two minutes before letting him leave, costume in hand.

I let out a sharp bark of laughter as I returned to the office. Those rules were tedious and complicated. They're hard to pay attention to, much less follow appropriately. He'll be waking up tomorrow as a nice docile dairy cow named Bertha.

The next day I opened in the same mall. I wanted to see my handiwork.

"Hey, wizard! Here you go! Where are you?"

It was Robert! He wasn't a cow at all! I rushed out from the back.

"Oh, hi. What's wrong?" I realized I was staring at him as he set the costume on the counter.

"I, uh..." I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible! "Surprised to see you here, is all."

"Why? I needed to get this back before ten, you said. So here you go." He pushed the bundle at me.

Of course! That has to be it. "Did you even wear it?"

"Oh, sure. Wow, that thing is great. Really made me look like a minotaur woman. Felt like it, too. I even had to piss sitting down!"
Robert shook his head, grinning. "That was an experience, let me tell you."

He wore it? And he's still here? "You stayed away from cigars? No grass eating? No alcohol, milk, or beef? You didn't wear anything other than what came with the costume? You didn't dance?"

Robert shook his head at each question. "No, of course not. You told me not to. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's follow directions."

I looked at him, speechless. He followed the directions.

"I admit, it was hard," he continued when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "I mean, it was a pretty boring party with all those restrictions."

I just stared. He followed the directions!

The young man fidgeted and averted his gaze from me. "I had to leave early, and went to sleep before midnight in order to get here on time."

I can't believe he followed the directions!

"Look, are you all right? Not having a heart attack or anything, are you?"

"No... it's just... Never mind. Go home. Have fun. You deserve it."
I scooped up the costume and strode towards the back. By the time I got to the monitors he was gone.

I dropped by the storeroom and carefully put the costume back on the rack. Then I closed the shop, although not in the normal way. Instead I went to the front and exited the front door, locking it behind me.

There's a good bar in this mall, I knew. Time for a good stiff drink.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Spells_R_Us]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Where's the Beef?}}

Ten Seconds

2007-09-12T23:40:07Z

Xodiac:

==by [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I stand upon the edge, looking down. It's a long drop. A quarter mile, I'm told. Quite a ways to fall.

I don't back away.

I raise my arm before me, and see not the gangly human arms I see in the mirror every day, belonging to a too-tall man with a too-long face and scraggly hair. I see a wing, ready to make my body soar.

To fly...

I am not high. I am not drunk. I am not insane. I have thought about this, long and hard. I read a book not long ago; they mention that once a body hits terminal velocity, it would seem like the earth is moving quickly towards it, rather than the other way around. Freefall.

What else is flight but that? A split second of pain, an unmeasurable instant of agony, is worth ten seconds of that kind of freedom, I think.

It's the only freedom I'm likely to get. I feel trapped, caged by my life like an exotic bird from the Amazon. A dead-end job, a dead-end family, a dead-end life. Nobody knows me, no matter how often I told them or how loud I shouted it out. My potential is unrealized. What it is potential for, I don't know, but surely I had some. Had, past tense.

Again I look over the edge. I can see clearly all the way down, make out the ripples on the river that winds its way through the canyon. It's beautiful, and I take a moment to admire the scene.

I click my beak, considering, and leap before I can think it over again. I spread my wings, and fly.

For ten seconds.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Ten Seconds}}

Stable Home Life

2007-09-12T23:39:42Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I looked around my new apartment feeling very pleased with myself. The area had been a farm in a previous life, but encroaching civilization had forced the previous owner to sell the property. There was new construction where fields had been, and the barn had been converted to living space. It still had some of the feel of a barn, though, the apartments laid out in a very organized manner that reminded me of stalls and rough planks and beams visible instead of the more finished look of most apartments. I loved it; the place had character.

Amazingly for a new apartment, it came fully furnished. As far as I was concerned that was absolutely perfect. I had only signed the lease last week and had already moved my meager possessions in and unpacked most of them. Rex, my cat, had been the last to arrive, getting here yesterday. He was busy rubbing himself on everything in sight. I could just imagine, "Mine! Mine! That too! And that! All mine!" going through his kitty mind.

"Am I the first to move in?" I asked the manager. She was a sweet old lady who barely came to my elbow. I had to keep an eye out since I constantly felt like I'd step on her if I wasn't careful.

"Oh my, no," she said. "In fact, you're one of the last."

"The miracle of modern advertising," I said, grinning. We both chuckled at the joke; her advertising consisted of a sign outside reading, "Vacant apartments available."

"You need anything, just let me know," she said one more time. She was actually getting on my nerves that way, but I just nodded. It seemed to satisfy her and she left.

I spent the next few hours getting the last of my things unpacked. I put the last of my book collection on the shelves in the spare room. I owned a lot of books; they covered most of the wall space. The shelves were one of the few pieces of furniture I'd needed to bring into the apartment when I moved in. Luckily, they were one of the few pieces I owned, along with the television. Dorm life makes people frugal in their furnishings.

After dinner I settled down in my favorite chair with one of those books. The cable still wasn't turned on, so it was either that or just go to bed, and I much preferred reading if I was able.

It was hard to concentrate, though. There was a loud thumping coming from one of the apartments next door. It sounded like someone was stomping as hard as they could on the hardwood floors. "Dancer?" I mumbled to myself. If that was it she was the clumsiest dancer on the planet, or maybe it was one of those modern things. I tried to figure out how long this had been going on, to estimate when it might stop, but it was tricky. I'd made a lot of noise of my own shoving the boxes of books into here and putting them on the shelves. It was silent when the manager had left, I knew that, but otherwise I couldn't guess.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Keep it down, willya?"

There was no change, though. Actually, there was. A second later the sound was being duplicated from the apartment on the other side.
Swearing, I got up and went into the main hallway.

"Hey!" I shouted, pounding on the door of the first noisy apartment.
"I'm trying to read, man!" No success even then. I stood there, fuming, for several minutes. "Fine! I'm getting the manager to register a complaint!" I said as I turned to go.

By the time I got to the exit the building was utterly silent.

I swore again and headed back to my books. No reason to bother her if she wasn't needed. Still, I wondered if this was such a great place after all.

It was quiet after that. I heard not a sound from the other apartments, which allowed me to immerse myself deeply into my book. It was an old favorite of mine that I'd had for several years and read at a dozen times. I read it straight through, making it a baker's dozen. It was dark by the time I finished, and Rex had curled up on the back of the chair. My feet had gone to sleep, too. I closed the book with a satisfied sigh and rubbed them to get some feeling back.

And stopped. "What the...?" I mumbled. They felt very odd. I lifted one to look, and gasped. The thing was huge, misshapen. My foot had somehow pulled out of the shoe that couldn't hope to contain it, and my toenails were dark and huge.

I wriggled my foot again, and it moved. It was my foot all right. But it couldn't be! I tried to stand, but immediately fell back into the chair. I couldn't seen to put my foot flat on the ground. "Ok, think... think!" Maybe this was some sort of infection. But it had developed so fast! Besides, it didn't actually hurt, it was just kind of numb, with a bit of tingling on my shins where this... whatever it was ended. But if not an infection, then what?

I looked down at my foot again, hoping to get some better idea, and got the second shock of the evening. It actually looked worse now, if that were possible. My toenails had grown to cover my entire toes, and had actually fused a bit at the back into one mass. A cautious scrape against the rug revealed that I could still feel through it, although the sensations were dulled a bit. And the foot had elongated terribly, and looked thinner as well.

Once more I tried to stand. I had to get to a phone, call the ambulance or something. But that was in the kitchen. I'd only needed one phone in the dorm, and hadn't gotten an extension yet. "Damn!" I cursed as I teetered on my mutant toes. I took a hesitant step, then another, and then fell back once more into the chair.

"Ow! Dammit!" That hurt! It felt like I landed on a rock or something! I twisted around to look accusingly at the chair, but it was innocent. It was still nicely padded and rock-free. A quick feel of my butt, though, revealed something growing there.

A tail. "Oh my god..." I felt around, through the fabric of my pants.
They were starting to get tight, actually, pressed from the rear by my impossible new appendage. I moaned and started to unbuckle my belt when I noticed that my hands were getting numb now as well.

I could only stare silently. They looked like my feet. The nails had grown, turned black, and I had no doubt they'd start to merge together in a minute. My palms had elongated and thinned. I noticed white hair growing on them, and a quick check confirmed it was growing on my feet as well now.

My pants were painfully tight now, and so was my shirt. With every inward breath it seemed to grow tighter, and I could do nothing but moan as I watched the buttons grow taut. Through the space between I could see my chest, covered in white fur.

"Help me! Somebody help meeeee!" But my plea devolved into a meaningless whinny. I could see my nose growing, now, no doubt changing into that of a horse. Rex woke up at my cry and gave a terrified screech of his own before running to hide under my bed. I hardly blamed him.

My clothes began to rip at the seams, finally giving me some relief. I could feel my hips changing, and managed to roll over the side of the chair before sitting because too painful. I landed on all fours, and couldn't get up again. My new tail whipped about, and the last of my shredded clothing fell down around me. And yet... I still wore something. I hadn't noticed as it appeared -- there had been too much happening at once -- but I could feel something around my head. Straps of some sort ran down the length of my face and over the back of my head. A bridle, I realized suddenly. It was still too large for me, but in a minute or two it'd fit fine, I was willing to bet. My face was still expanding, after all.

My vision started getting blurry. Or... wait. No. It was my apartment! Everything, the wall, the floor, even my own books, started to get blurry and fade away, to be replaced by... a stable. Of course.
Dammit, this couldn't be happening! I whinnied loudly again and lunged for the door. It had become an ordinary stall door, and there was no chance of opening it when my hands had turned into hooves. I turned to get space for a good running leap, and bumped up against another wall.
The entire space had shrunk on me! I really was in a horse's stall!

Oddly, the only thing I could think of was to hope Rex was still okay, wherever he was.

{{Separator|stars}}

The manager sighed as she poured herself a cup of tea. She glanced towards the barn; she could still hear the frightened screams of her new horse. He'd get used to it, she thought. They others had.

It had been a stroke of genius to go into business this way, she mused.
Spending a few dozen dollars on some herbs and a few hours preparation was so much cheaper than buying a horse for a few hundred. A simple illusion of new housing would always bring somebody in. Illusionary addresses made it untraceable, too; even if they did tell friends or relatives or even the government where they were moving to, they'd never be found.

"Here kitty," she called to the hallway. Rex hissed at her and ran to another room. She just shrugged. Rex would get used to his new home too, in time. Or she could give him to somebody, if that didn't work.
But she was confident it would.

The manager sipped her tea. More sugar, she thought, and reached for the jar.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Equine]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Stable Home Life}}

Replay

2007-09-12T23:39:15Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

Chris was glad to be out of the store, even if it was only for lunch.
He was so tired of being behind the counter; he much preferred to be the customer. And burritos had lost all their charm a while ago. The pizza joint a few stores down made better food. He was thinking of looking for a new job, too; it was as monotonous as the food. The only benefit was that it paid the bills, usually.

His pace slowed as he passed the new store between the two restaurants. It must have finally opened up while he was off for the weekend. "Walk a Mile," he read aloud, and looked in the window. Used shoes. "Oh, good grief," he said, rolling his eyes at the joke.

He paused, then went in. His sneakers were getting rather threadbare; perhaps he could find some cheap replacements. ''As if I could afford any other kind,'' he thought, and snorted.

"Hello, young man," a friendly woman's voice called out as he entered.
A short, shabby-looking woman put a pair of shoes on a shelf and nodded a welcome at him. "You're one of our first customers! Feel free to try any of these on."

Chris glanced at his graying hair in the mirror behind the counter.
''Young man?'' he mused. ''She's hardly older than I, and I'm pushing fifty!'' He nodded politely in response and started browsing the shelves.

The variety of shoes available was amazing. There were pumps and stiletto heels, baby shoes and sneakers of all types. They were not well organized, however. Dance shoes and loafers and even a pair of bunny slippers were all right next to each other. It looked like the stock were put on the shelves wherever there was space available.

In a way, however, the arrangement made a strange kind of sense. After all, where in a traditional footwear display would you catalog a full set of four horseshoes?

"See anything you like?" the dowdy little woman said from behind him, startling him.

"No, I'm just browsing." He walked a few feet down the short aisle and stopped cold. "Hey!"

"Ah, you ''do'' see something!"

Chris pointed at a pair of children's sneakers. They were a bright red, once, but the color had faded with time and what appeared to be rigorous use. The shoelaces were dirty and the fabric had a hole over the spot where the big toe went. "Where'd you get those? I had a pair just like them when I was seven!"

"It's mostly an exchange program," the proprietor said casually.
"Occasionally we just find pair that we feel meets our standards, though, and we put them up."

Chris picked up one of the shoes and looked it over carefully. "I loved mine, wore them until they were dead. In a sudden fit of nostalgia, he blurted, "I'll take them."

"Certainly, dear. Why don't you try them on, then?"

Chris looked at her oddly. She seemed entirely serious. "Lady, I can't wear these. They're made for a kid."

"I can size anything to fit, even those. Go ahead and try them on."

The woman was obviously batty, but he took a seat to humor her. One halfhearted try and he could get out of here. But the shoe fit perfectly. There was no effort to it at all. He stared at his foot, astonished.

"Now the other one," she prompted him. He was too stupefied to disobey. The second fit just as well as the first. "There now, I told you I could fit those."

Chris finally found his voice enough to mumble, "That is totally weird." He wriggled his toes in the sneakers, and had to restrain from giggling when he saw his big toe move through the hole.

"Our return policy is pretty lenient," the older woman told him. "You can try them out for a while, no cost to you. But if you walk more than a mile in them, they're yours."

He tried a few experimental steps around the store. They seemed to be working well enough. "Right. Fine. I'll be seeing you later." He waved to her absently as he walked out the door, lost in thought.

He'd only gone a few steps when he realized he'd never paid for the shoes. For that matter, he'd entirely forgotten about getting a real replacement pair. He put his hand in his pocket and turned around, then stopped suddenly. His wallet was gone. For that matter, so was the little shopping center.

He was still standing on a sidewalk. But instead of the line of closely packed stores was a row of small houses. Picket fences surrounded neatly manicured lawns that seemed somehow familiar.
Everything had changed, including, much to his dismay, himself.

He was a kid. "What the ''hell?''"

"Shh!" Came the hurried whisper from behind him. "Tessa will tell for sure if she hears you say that!"

"''What?''" Chris blurted as he whirled around. His younger sister had died eight years ago in a car crash, along with Jason. Her husband and his best friend. Who was standing in front of him, no older than himself.

"C'mon," the ghost said. "I don't want to be around her. You can never have any fun."

Chris didn't follow. ''You'll have fun enough with her in twelve or thirteen years. What the hell is going on?''

The answer was absolutely obvious, even if it was also absolutely impossible. He looked down at his feet. They ''had'' been his shoes, and somehow — Lord only knows how — he was seven again.

The woman's voice suddenly sounded inside his head. With the day's events he wasn't even sure if it was just a memory. "If you walk more than a mile in them, they're yours."

He could take the shoes off and return to the present. Or the future, depending. But that wasn't very appealing. He'd never gone to college. He'd gone to work for his father at the drugstore straight out of high school and drifted ever since from job to job. There'd been some good times, but such times were few and carefully regimented. He'd sold the years in order to exist, little more.

On the other hand, being seven wasn't especially inviting either.
Chris tried to remember what it had been like. No power at home. In to bed at eight, no questions. A meager allowance. A bike that could use a bit of work, and a pretty small group of friends. School. Rules, rules, and more rules.

But at least a seven-year-old had room to grow. He could ''do'' something with his life, this time.

"Hey, wait up!" he cried, running after his friend.

{{Separator|stars}}

In the shop, the worn-out sneakers he had been wearing disappeared from the floor, to reappear a moment later on the shelf. The old woman
smiled slightly and considered. They'd not be taken very quickly, with
a life such as that. But there was always someone out there willing to buy a fixer-upper.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Walk-A-Mile]] [[Category:Age_Regression]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Replay}}

Refamiliarization

2007-09-12T23:38:58Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

For the hundredth time that day I looked enviously around me at the multitudes of costumes wandering Kubla Con. Aliens and animals mixed with humans in uniforms out of popular science fiction shows and movies, and some of them were superb. But saving for cross-country airfare had eaten most of the funds I might have spent on a more complete outfit for myself.

At least I wasn't alone in my... uncostumedness, if that was even a word. I'd seen plenty of other people walking around without costumes, and even more had bought animal noses in order to get in the spirit of things, even minimally. I rubbed the equally minimalist horns glued to my forehead absently for a moment before snatching my hand away. So the sparsity of my outfit didn't stand out all that much.

That would change soon, at least a little. One of the dealers was selling sets of wings; mostly feathery white angel wings, but there were some black sets there as well, and a single pair of black batlike wings. With the convention ending tomorrow, I could afford to splurge a little on them, and even at a mere three feet across they were perfect.

When Jesse and I had heard that costuming was going to be a major part of this year's con, rather than the usual sideline, we'd decided to actually wear something, even if it was minor. After some thinking, we decided to walk around as the characters we played every Tuesday and Thursday in our gaming sessions. Jesse's was easy: a gray wig, a staff, some robes, and a leatherbound book were all that was needed to make him into a passable wizard.

Coming as my character was a bit more problematical, because Kyr was a dragon. I had entered only recently into a campaign that had been underway for almost three years, so I'd had to find some way for my new character to join up with the party. I did it by getting caught burglarizing the party mage's tower. Gray the wizard, Jesse's character, had been justifiably upset that Kyr had managed to kill his old dragon familiar, and so the thief took up the role instead. My character made for a somewhat underpowered dragon, but Kyr's power levels were just about right to fit in with the rest of the party of seasoned, experienced adventurers.

But there had been no way I could afford the several hundred — or several thousand — dollars I'd have needed to buy a full dragon suit. So I'd made do with a set of rubber horns and some painted-on scales in a few places, and simply pretended I was Kyr before Gray's "essence transference" spell, which had given Kyr the familiar's form and powers, had taken more than token effect.

Finally, ''finally,'' the fat woman in front of me gave up on knocking the price of her purchases down another twenty bucks and just paid up. The guy on the other side of the table smiled apologetically as he turned to me. "Sorry about that. So, after a set of wings, eh? Part of your costume?"

"They will be, yeah." I set my credit card down with a plastic snap. He snatched it up and began processing it.

"You a demon?"

I grimaced. "Naw." I hated being mistaken for a demon, even if it was a fair guess. "Dragon. Well, part dragon."

"Gonna be a bit more dragon in a minute. Ah! There we go. Sign here?"

It was impossible to stop my mouth from spreading to a wide grin as I turned away, wings in hand. I couldn't wait to try them on.

Without warning a child a few feet ahead of me squealed and doubled over. The gray plastic mouse nose that had overlain his own seemed to ripple, and gray fur spread rapidly back from it even as he shrank. In the space of a second or two he vanished from sight, engulfed in clothing.

"Jimmy?" his mother cried, looking at the pile openmouthed. "Jimmy!"

All around me were cries of surprise and fear. Here and there the sound was cut off, or transmuted into some other noise.

I looked around wildly. Had someone dropped LSD into all the water pitchers? Right in front of me people were changing, turning into elves and robots and animals; some of the latter seemed to stop partway through. Those people who were unaffected, like myself, were staring at them in shock.

What finally convinced me it was real, that people were really changing into their costumes, was that even some of those who ''had'' changed were looking around with stunned expressions. They were looking down at their own hands and bodies, too — and none of the people who hadn't been affected were looking at themselves. The idea that a hallucination could possibly be this... consistent was absurd.

"Holy shit!" I said. My voice was soft, but it was very, very heartfelt.

I could hear shouts and screams in the hallway outside as people began to panic. There were other sounds, too: gunshots and high-pitched whines that immediately made me think of lasers, along with bellows of anger or pain. It must be all the people at the awards ceremony, I realized. A sinking feeling grew in my stomach as I thought of all the people in costume that must have been crammed into that one room, and I thanked God Jesse and I hadn't gone. We'd been interested enough in ''seeing'' the costumes, and had thus attended the masquerade yesterday, but it mattered little to us who won. And by the sound of the chaos outside the dealer's room, it was a good thing, too.

Not that there was no chaos and panic in here. Several people (and other things) had already bolted for the exits. But the dealer's room had been largely empty, thanks to the awards ceremony, and it seemed to have affected the response. By and large people reacted like they might to a fire drill after actually smelling smoke. Urgently, but not hysterically.

Still, it would be a good idea to get out of there. At the very least I wanted to find Jesse. Last I'd seen, he was heading over to the game room to get in a few last sessions. It wasn't all that far away, but to get there I'd have to get through the mess in the halls.

It turned out to be a surprisingly simple task. It was more a mob than a riot, really; people were panicked but not actually violent. The greater difficulties were simply to avoid getting in anyone's way, which might ''make'' them belligerent, and keeping myself from tripping and getting trampled. Beyond that all I needed to do was to peel away into the corridor leading to some of the other rooms of interest, including the game room, rather than let myself be swept to the exit along with most everyone else.

A dozen or so people were at the game room talking animatedly about what had just happened, but it still felt like an island of calm amidst the chaos. It probably helped that few people who were interested in gaming had worn costumes in the first place, though there were exceptions. Jesse, of course, was one of them, and I found him easily at one table, surrounded by other gamers.

"Ash!" he shouted in greeting as I entered. He stood and abandoned the conversation to greet me, somewhat to the annoyance of the others, I saw. "Jeez, man, it's good to see you. I was worried."

He took a seat at an empty table. "Yeah," I said as I took a chair opposite him. "It's kinda crazy out there. Looks like you guys are fine, though." While it was noisier than usual even for the game room, it was clear that nobody had really lost it when the change hit. Nothing was smashed or even overturned.

"Well, we're not going nuts, it that's what you mean," Jesse said, confirming my earlier thoughts, and a few nearby heads nodded agreeably. "I wouldn't really call this ''fine,'' though!"

At that he gestured sharply at his face. For a few seconds I saw nothing wrong with it. It was simply the weatherbeaten, slightly past prime face of the wizard Gray. Then it hit me, and I reeled back as if struck. This was the ''face'' of Gray, not Jesse made up as him. The are lines were no longer makeup, the locks of white hair had not been bleached.

"Jeez, you're really him, aren't you?" I asked softly. "You turned into Gray."

"Yeah. Dammit, I look like I'm fucking fifty!"

"Isn't Gray more like a hundred fifty?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, around there. Hundred forty-one, I think. But I look fifty. I ''feel'' fifty! How am I supposed to get a date, now?"

Now it was my turn to shrug. "Older guys get married too. My uncle met his wife when he was forty-six." I smiled encouragingly. "Besides, there's probably a lot of prestige in dating a wizard! As useful as engineers and rarer than rock stars."

Jesse looked at me like I was an idiot. "Don't be a dick." It was odd to hear those words coming from that face. Incongruous. "It's not like I'm really a wizard. I can't ''actually'' cast any spells. Hell, magic doesn't exist."

"Oh, really. Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

He snorted, then nodded, acknowledging the point. "And have you?"

I shook my head no. "I didn't change."

His eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, really," he said in his best imitation of my voice.

"Yes, really. If I had changed, I would be a dragon." I pointedly looked down at myself, arms spread wide. "Do you see a dragon sitting across from you?"

"Of course not. But what do you call these, hmm?" I looked up in time to see him leaning across the table, arm extended towards me. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing he flicked his forefinger at my scalp. But instead of striking flesh there was a distinct click, and I felt the vibration travel down into my skull. But it was hardly the same thing as tapping the skull itself.

"Holy shit!" I said again. My hands flew up to my forehead and felt the horns poking out of my skin there. It was immediately obvious they were made of bone now, not rubber. I gave one a few experimental tugs, but they were firmly attached. Indeed, I actually winced when I tried to twist it.

"You didn't know?"

"No! In all the mess I forgot about them." I looked at the miniature pair of wings on the table beside me. "I guess those are kind of moot now. Damn, they weren't cheap, either..."

Jesse laughed. "Maybe not! Maybe if you put them on you'll have a nice set of wings! Have you thought of that?"

I hadn't. I rolled the idea around for a moment before shaking my head. "No, thanks. I don't feel like being part of a freak show. Horns are enough for me. More than enough."

"You have scales, too, you know."

I looked. The patches of charcoal gray I had brushed onto the backs of each hand glistened, now; the lines separating one scale from another were deep fissures, rather than mere black paint. "Shit." The rest of my hand was unaffected; the scales faded back to skin exactly where I had stopped painting. I ran my fingers over one patch. It felt smooth, but just short of being slick. I could feel my fingers, too, but faintly. Dragon scales were supposed to be tougher than skin; apparently they were less sensitive, as well.

Jesse was looking at me with a peculiar expression on his now-wrinkled face. It took me a moment to realize he was expecting something, another to recognize exactly what. "That feels... weird. Kind of like being touched through clothes, but not. Just... weird."

It wasn't a really good description, but it was the best I could do. And it seemed to satisfy him, judging by his thoughtful nod. "You have some here, too," he said, touching his forehead. He waited for me to feel between my horns (two words that will take some getting used to!), but I believed him well enough to resist the temptation. Eventually he asked, "Anything else different?"

"On me?" He nodded, and I thought it over briefly. "No... I don't think so. That's all the costume I wore."

"Even... you know. There?"

"What?" But I knew what he meant even before I was finished with the single syllable. Kyr had been a man before he took op Gray's previous familiar's position and powers and form. But the old familiar had been a ''female'' dragon, and the gamemaster had decided that that aspect would be transferred over as well.

I hadn't really minded, at the time. It was only a character, after all. (Said character, of course, ''did'' mind, and he'd gained a few personality quirks and mannerisms thanks to it.) Still, that was just a game, and this was real.

But a hasty check revealed everything was still where it should be. "Nothing wrong there," I said. "Nothing changed but the parts I costumed, thank God."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Oh, heck yeah."

We both fell silent. I found myself rubbing a horn as I contemplated exactly what to do next.

{{Separator|stars}}

"This is intolerable! Idiots! Morons! What the hell do they think this will accomplish?"

"They think it'll keep us all in one place where they can keep an eye on us," I said, not bothering to look up from the television to where Jesse pointed. I knew quite well what I'd see out the window, after all, since it had been there for the last two days. Our hotel room had a wonderful view of the police mobile headquarters that had been set up nine stories down and across the street, where the cops were coordinating the quarantine they had set up. Nobody who had been affected at the con was supposed to get out (or in, though why anyone would return was beyond me). It was an open secret, though, that some were escaping anyway — there were shots on the news of a gargoyle or demon or something that was already flying around New York City, for one thing. Compared to all the various aliens, mages, and superheroes, not to mention all the things like that demon, things that could just fly over any cordon... well, the cops were simply out of their league.

There were persistent rumors that the National Guard, even the Army, were going to take over Any Time Now, but there was never any concrete information. There were also rumors that the quarantine would be lifted and everyone could go home. Almost nobody believed ''those'' stories, however. Surely the government wouldn't do something so obviously sensible.

"But it's stupid! Their cursed cordon leaks like a sieve!" Jesse ranted as he paced beside the bed.

"Yup."

"There's reports all over the place of things showing up. One was on Leno!"

"Yup."

"And our plane back was supposed to leave today. I don't suppose they'll let us catch our flight."

"Nope."

Jesse stopped stomping around the room long enough to glare at me. "And can you ''please'' give me something a little more than monosyllabic replies?"

"Sure." I paused just long enough for my friend to think that was all; making him go nuts was amusing enough to keep ''me'' from going stir crazy. When his mouth was open, ready to spew a heated rejoinder, I added, "When your statements deserve them." He shut his mouth with a snap; this was fun! "Besides, there's not a whole lot we can do about it."

Jesse smiled oddly at me. "That's what you think."

Then I did look squarely at him. I scratched the backs of my hands as I thought; the line between skin and scales itched nearly constantly. "What do you mean?" I eventually asked warily.

"I'm supposed to be a mage, right? I think it might be time to try one of the spells in my grimoire."

I sat up a little straighter, all itching forgotten. Now this was interesting! Every now and then Jesse had looked through the book that had become his repository of spells, muttering occasionally. Yet he hadn't cast a single one, hadn't even tried despite the growing evidence that people who'd been dressed as any kind of magic user had become able to cast spells. But if he was going to make an attempt at last... oh yes. Interesting, indeed.

"So which spell are you going to use?" I asked. "Something to disguise us as cops? Or, hey, do you have invisibility in there? You remember, the one that got us past that goblin horde last month?" I'd always wondered what it'd really be like to be invisible.

"No, no, no," Jesse said. He was flipping quickly through his spellbook. Suddenly he stopped and thrust it all me, all dramatic. "''This'' one."

I glanced at the page briefly before returning my gaze to him. "You know I can't read that crap." The blank pages that had filled the leatherbound book that Jesse had toted around as Gray's grimoire had been replaced by masses of runes and diagrams. I couldn't read a word of it. In fact, it made my eyes hurt to look at them for too long — which is to say, more than five seconds or so.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry." He had the grace to look embarrassed. But then his enthusiasm returned full bore. "It's Trakam's Teleportation!"

"Are you ''insane?''" I almost screamed. "There's a one-in-a-hundred chance of failure on that thing! And you want to cast ''that'' as your very first spell ever?"

"It won't be my first! I cast a few this morning while you were asleep."

"Really? Which spells?"

"Sangred's Silent Room and Ichanhor's Illusionary Disguise."

"Fine, you got some practice in. But if you screw up the Silent Room, all you get is a burst of noise, or a headache. Screw up on teleporting and it can get nasty."

"Well, yes," he admitted. "But just about ''anything'' above a fourth order spell can have some really bad consequences if the mage flubs it, so unless you think I'm incompetent and should keep to the tame stuff like light shows and lightening burdens, then we'll be taking that risk eventually."

He had a point, but I wasn't ready to admit that quite yet. "I just think you should practice some more. Build up to it."

"I've found, over the last few days, that I have some knowledge and instincts that I could only have gained from Gray. And he's a ninth order mage. So I'm pretty sure I can get this right."

"You're sure, huh?"

"Hey, I'm teleporting both of us, remember? It's my life, too. Sure, I'm sure."

I still had my doubts. He'd countered my most major objections, though; protesting further would only make me seem petty or cowardly. Worse, it'd just make him dig in his heels. "Let me pack first, will you?"

A few minutes later I dropped my bags at my feet, adjusted the baseball cap that hid my horns, and nodded to my friend. "Ready when you are."

Jesse had already packed. But he hadn't been idle. A circle six feet wide had been drawn on the carpet in pink chalk. A few lines crossed through the center in no pattern I recognized. "Stand in the circle, and try not to muss up the lines," he said.

"And the luggage?"

"You'll have to carry it."

I didn't realize, at first, that he meant I was to carry ''all'' the luggage. But he had to keep his arms free to make the gestures necessary to work the spell. Or so he said. So I had to hold four bags up off the carpet but within the circle's borders. I think I only managed because none was particularly large. Still, it wasn't easy. And it became even less easy when Jesse stepped in there with me.

"All right. Let's go."

I nodded. "Please, let's." None of the bags were heavy, but all four together was no small load. "By the way, where'd you get the chalk?"

"My pocket."

"But—"

"Shush."

I shushed.

Jesse’s voice began as a low murmur that I could barely hear and slowly grew. He spoke a language that I did not know and rather suspected didn't exist last week. His arms moved like a conductor's, flailing about in a way that suggested chaos at first glance but revealed patterns to those who continued to watch.

The room turned hazy, fading to gray nothingness. Even the carpet disappeared, though the chalk lines remained. It was just us and those lines, floating together in a sea of gray. We remained like that for what felt like several minutes, Jesse chanting all the while, before the familiar shapes of his living room began to fade in.

Then things started to go wrong.

The scene abruptly wavered like a television with bad reception and began to fade back into nothingness. At the same time, a bolt of nausea shot through my stomach and my legs felt like rubber, nearly making me stumble out of the circle. "Jesse..."

My friend's voice, already loud, became a shout and more insistent. Still things worsened. The grayness was darkening rapidly, and my hands and feet were beginning to tingle painfully. I could feel fire shooting up my limbs.

"Jesse!"

And just as suddenly, everything was fine. The nothingness vanished with a snap, replaced by the living room only glimpsed earlier. It all looked solid enough, though I stamped the floor to make sure. Yup. And the floor had the chalk circle on it now, I saw.

Jesse strode over to an easy chair and plopped into it heavily, head in his hands. I dropped the bags besides the couch before taking a seat. The corner of one bag, I noted, was missing. It had probably swung outside the circle when I stumbled. It was one of Jesse's. Serves him right.

"I think," he said in a shaky voice, "that I just rolled a ninety-nine."

Rolling one hundred would have been a critical failure, in the game. "Sounds about right," I said.

"Maybe I should practice a bit before I do any more major spells." His tone made it sound like it was the first time it had been proposed, and that it was his idea.

I looked down at the ruined bag, and the cross-section of its contents. "Yeah. You do that."

After the hectic events of the last few days, it was something of a relief to return to my simple job as a computer programmer. I had made no secret of going to a convention in Florida, and by the time I got back everyone on the planet had heard what had happened at that particular con. So it was no surprise when I was barraged with questions. What really happened? What was it like? How did I evade the quarantine? Was I affected at all? The first two questions I answered truthfully, for the most part, and enjoyed being the center of attention for a while. The other two, though, I was forced to lie over, lest I bring on the kind of attention I didn't want.

But that was two days ago. Today, with rare exception, it was just the usual monotony of work. Code, email, lunch, meeting, code some more.

It was late in the day when Drew, my boss, stopped by my cubicle. "Hey, Ash, they got the specs finalized on the next patch release." He handed me a thin sheaf of memos. I'd also get a copy in email, but Drew liked to hand out hard copy.

"Cool," I said. "Anything I should worry about?"

Drew didn't answer. He was too busy peering intently at my face. "You feeling okay, Ash?" he said at last.

"I feel fine. Why?"

He gestured at me, half point, half wave. "The skin on the bridge of your nose is turning black."

"It's what?" I reached to feel my face. A vertical strip of insensitive skin, bumpy but slick and perhaps two inches wide, ran from under my cap halfway down my nose.

"Turning black." Drew had backed up a step while I wasn't paying attention, probably to avoid getting infected with what was obviously some horrible skin disease. "You might want to get that checked out. In fact, I really think you should go to the doctor."

"Yeah... yeah."

I didn't leave immediately, though. I went to the bathroom, first. I knew already what I'd see, but I had to look, anyway.

Despite being made for multiple occupants, then men's room door still had a deadbolt lock on it. I used it. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, took off my cap, and looked into the mirror. The sight was not unexpected, but a jolt nevertheless. My forehead was a mass of scales forming the branches of a dark ''T.'' Its trunk went down my nose, the edges just kissing the corners of my eyes.

"Jesus." My face had definitely not been like that this morning. I felt the horns on my forehead... and then the second pair set further back, more on the top of my head and angled backwards. I'd discovered those yesterday. Were they larger now? It was hard to see them in the mirror, but my fingers told me they probably were.

Yesterday...

I'd found the second set of horns while shampooing my hair. A sudden shock, a scramble for the mirror. But they truly were hard to see. I had convinced myself that I had just never noticed them before. They'd always been there — since Xanadu, anyway. I mean, a second set of horns growing spontaneously from my skull... ludicrous! It made no sense, so obviously I must have just missed them.

And the idea that these painted-on scales were growing, expanding... just my imagination. Of course. It wasn't like I was keeping rigorous track, or anything! How was I supposed to tell whether the last scale before skin was this one or that one? And if the scales were now to the point where they wrapped around my wrist and crawled halfway down my fingers... well, obviously I'm misremembering their extent. Right? Just bring out the skin-colored makeup, slather it on, and ignore it. It's the same as it was yesterday, sure it is.

But it was hard to brush this off. This time the patch on my forehead was definitely, unarguably larger. I was quite certain that my cap had completely covered it this morning. As a matter of fact... I replaced it on my head and tugged it down as far as it would go. My suspicions were, unfortunately, confirmed. It didn't go down as far as it should have. As it once had. It was being held away from my scalp by that second pair of horns. Which in turn meant not only that they were clearly growing, but quite likely were indeed a new addition rather than being an original — if unnoticed — part of the change back in Florida.

I was out of the building not three minutes later.

One of the side benefits of leaving work a little early was that I missed the worst of rush hour. Which isn't to say the traffic was actually ''good.'' This was, after all, San Jose. Every traffic light, every highway slowdown tensed my muscles and strained my nerves.

"This can't be happening to me," I said over and over as I drove. "It just can't!" It was impossible. It was insane. It was infuriating! I ground my teeth over the situation and blasted my horn.

Naturally, I did not go to the doctor. This was no skin disease. There was nothing any doctor could do for me. Only one person could.

I should have known that Jesse wouldn't be home so early. Despite his more obvious changes (well, perhaps not ''more'' obvious, anymore, I amended), he had gone right back to work. He said it was no problem. I often wondered if it was a case of openminded coworkers or if he was using magic somehow. Or if he was just being optimistic. Whichever it was, it seemed to be working out so far, which meant he wouldn't be back for another hour, minimum. I gave him a ring on my cell phone and told him to get home soon. Real soon. Then I went and had dinner.

It was a very uneasy meal. I could feel every other person's eyes on me, on the discolored patch of skin, on my hat as they wondered exactly what it hid. Even then I knew it was an exaggeration, but I still felt it. And the looks the kid behind the counter gave me as he took my order were certainly real enough.

I didn't want to stay long. On the other hand, I didn't relish the idea of some neighbor calling the cops on me if I hung out in his front yard while I waited. It was a kind of balancing act, and for once I hit it perfectly. I pulled into his driveway right after he did.

"Hi, Ash!" he called as we got out of our cars. "What's up?"

"That's exactly what I want to know!" I yelled. I whipped off the baseball cap and pointed at my brow. "What the ''hell'' is up with this?"

His weatherbeaten face creased in a frown. "Let's go inside."

Once we were in his place, I got right back to it. "Look at this! I'm still growing scales! What the hell is happening, here?"

"I was afraid this might happen..." Jesse began, but then halted.

"Afraid of what, damn it?"

"Surely you knew. That you would continue to turn into a dragoness. Into Kyr."

I did know. It hit me like a punch in the belly, anyway. Gamely, I rallied with, "But I can't be! My costume wasn't of Kyr! I only made myself into a partial dragon, not a full one!"

"Wrong. You went as Kyr at the start of his transformation. Only a partial dragon, yes, but a part that was meant to increase."

I swore vehemently. "Why didn't you ''tell'' me this might happen?"

Jesse shrugged and got a Coke from the fridge. "You were having a hard enough time coping with the changes you had. You would have gotten yourself all worked up if I'd told you there might be more coming. In short, you didn't want to hear it."

"Yeah, but—"

"''And'' since I didn't know for sure that they ''were'' coming, there was no point in letting you panic just then."

"I am not panicking!"

Jesse just shrugged again and took a long pull from the can. "If you say so."

"Damn it! I'm not!"

"Then you're throwing a tantrum. But whether it's panic or shit fit, you would have done then what you're doing now. I didn't need that, then." He paused to give me a hard look. "I don't need it now, either."

A ''tantrum?'' "Fuck you! This is important! You're not fucking taking this seriously! And until you do, I am out of here!" I saw myself out, making sure to slam the door behind me.

Luckily, it was Friday, so I had another two days to figure out what I'd do about this. The problem was that there was absolutely nothing I ''could'' do. Kyr had some magic, true, but much of it was inherent to being a dragon, like her her ability to fly or to breathe fire. I couldn't use those, yet. The rest of her magic came from being a wizard's familiar; even if that was available to me now, I didn't know ''how'' to use it.

And neither type of magic would be able to prevent this slow change, anyway. I knew. I'd had Kyr try, way back when she was just my imagination and a sheet full of stats.

Naturally I wasn't about to leave the house like that. Which meant my weekend was spent watching television, interrupted by frequent trips to the bathroom mirror as I inspected myself for changes.

And changes there were! They seemed to come more quickly, now that they had an audience. Over those few days I watched my scalp grow black, my hair vanishing in lieu of bony knobs and bumps covered in scales. They crept down my face, as well, so that by Sunday night everything above my upper lip was covered. My ears had become merely fleshy, scale-covered hollows in my skull. My pupils were slitted, now, and the irises that filled the rest of the eye was a green so deep I thought at times they glowed.

My fingernails had grown long despite every effort I made to keep them short. Sharp talons now tipped every finger. My hands were entirely covered with scales, larger on my palm than the back, and they extended a few inches past each wrist as well. Black peeked out from beneath the edge of my watchband.

And Saturday afternoon I found the first of the scales on my feet. It seemed that this transformation was to proceed from my extremities inwards.

Friday and Saturday, each clear sign of change brought on another round of curses. Some of them prompted thrown objects. But tempers cannot remain forever hot. At some point Sunday I calmed down somewhat. I was still more than a little upset, but there was little point in getting violent over it.

Besides, it was time to do something about work. I picked up the phone and dialed — with excessive care, thanks to these damned talons.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jesse. Uh..." What to say? "Sorry I blew up like that. I guess you were right, I was panicking. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"It's okay. You were upset, and with good reason."

"Mind if I come over there? I need to see you."

"No problem," was the reply.

Jesse took one look at my face when he opened his door, then stood aside. "Come on in."

I waited until we had taken seats in his living room before speaking. "Getting into the role, I see."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't blink, or step back, or show any signs at all of surprise at how far this had gone."

"Ah." His smile was slight but genuine. "A wizard is supposed to be nigh-imperturbable, after all."

I nodded. "Right. Well, I hope you've practiced other facets of being a wizard. Like spellcasting."

"That I have. Small spells, mostly, but a few of higher order."

"Good. I want to reverse this spell. Change me back."

Jesse nodded slowly; evidently he'd anticipated the request. Then he looked at me gravely and said, "People have been trying to nullify Xanadu's spell for a week, now. If anyone's had any success, they're keeping quiet about it. Frankly, I doubt any wizard created ''by'' Xanadu — and that's every wizard, remember — will be able to cancel the spell ''of'' Xanadu."

"I'm not so sure I agree with that. Magic by definition breaks all the rules of logic. Who can say it won't do that here?"

"I'm a wizard, so I can."

I threw up my hands. "All right, whatever. That wasn't what I had in mind, anyway. All you need to do is negate ''your'' spell."

Jesse's bushy gray eyebrows rose for the first time. "''My'' spell? You mean the one cast in the game?"

"Essence Transference, yeah. You never actually cast it, I know, but thanks to my costume concept Xanadu thinks you have. So if you just negate that spell, I should change back."

"It won't work."

"I don't see why not. I've thought this through pretty carefully."

"Yes, but with incorrect data. Or rather, incomplete. At any rate, remember GIGO. It's a good idea, but it just won't work."

"And just what do you know that I do not?" I said with a snarl I could not quite suppress. Was this anger normal or was it part of being a dragon?

Jesse thankfully ignored the tone and concentrated on my actual words. "The change at Kubla Con made me a wizard. And that includes certain knowledge that I suddenly just know." He hastily held up a hand to forestall an angry reply. "Didn't do much for teleporting, I know. I think I was relying too much on it, to soon. But I still know things. And my grimoire is not a cookbook, either. There's more in there than lists of ingredients and instructions on combining them. There's notes on how each spell works. Not only what it does, but how. And after you left here Friday I looked up the Essence Transference spell."

He paused. "And?" I asked into the silence.

"Think of a heart transplant. Once it's done, it's done; you can't stop it from taking place when the patient is walking out of the hospital. The operation's over. Canceling it then can't be done.

"It's the same thing, here. This isn't some kind of ultra-slow polymorph spell. It's a soul transplant, essentially. But in the game — and now in real life, I suppose — you now have the soul of a female black dragon familiar."

''That'' was certainly news! I'd never thought about it that way. Still, "What about all this, then?" I asked, and waved my talons in the air.

"Heart transplants leave scars, which heal but slowly. Think of this as the scar healing. Your body is healing, as it were. But because your essence is that of a black dragoness, that's how you will heal. As a black dragoness."

Interesting. Hardly good, no... but interesting. Still, if that's how it works, then a solution is obvious. "So just cast it on me again. Give me the essence, the soul, of a male human."

"Can't. The notes say it can only be cast on any specific creature once."

"Damn it! That's stupid! Why the heck would there be such an idiotic limit on the spell?"

"Please don't ruin my furniture." Jesse pointed, and I glanced down. My hand had clenched, forcing my talons through the upholstery. I sheepishly extracted them as he continued. "There are two things you need to remember about this spell. First, this spell is not part of the official game spellbook. The GM made it up for the campaign to introduce you to an established high-level game. So if it's a little odd, it's probably because it wasn't completely thought out.

"Secondly, it was made for a game, as were all the spells in my grimoire. And being able to change someone, body and soul, into another creature is pretty powerful! In fact, it's listed as a fifteenth-order spell; Gray technically should not have had any hope of a successful casting in the game, but Keith hadn't said how high it was. Probably Xanadu determined it, somehow. Anyway, making it permanent like this adds a little more power, but is a major limitation because that will be the character's base form for the rest of the game. If it turns out to be a bad choice of target form, tough. The target is stuck."

"So you're saying ''I'm'' stuck?"

"I think so." He surprised me with a grin. "Could have been worse. I could have had a kobold familiar."

"Somehow, I don't feel appreciative." I had to think about this. After a time, Jesse left; there was a clanging from the kitchen, the gurgle of a coffee machine. When he returned I accepted a cup, took a sip, and spoke.

"You do your research into curing this thing. I just can't believe there is a spell that can't be reversed in any way! Meanwhile, cast a polymorph or that disguise spell on me so I can keep going to work."

"The disguise spell wears off after nine hours," Jesse warned. "The polymorph might last four. Maybe."

"So I stop by every morning so you can disguise me again."

"All right," he agreed. "But the other thing you have to keep in mind is that this is ''only'' an illusion. It may hide a tail and wings, when they start coming in, but that won't prevent them from banging into desks, or people from tripping over them. There's also the fact that it conforms to your body, which means you'll look like you're crawling on the carpet once you go quadrupedal. To say nothing of the increased size."

I frowned at that. I'd rather suspected the part about the wings and tail, but I had tried hard not to think at all about the rest. Walking on all fours... I shuddered to think of it, quite literally.

My friend's tone was serious as he continued, "In all honesty, Ash, you should just put in two week's notice with your job. I already did."

"Hmm. Maybe. Mention my name at your work, though. That way, if you stop this transformation, I'll have a foot in the door for your position."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to stop it."

"Don't say that! Damn it, you ''have'' to!" I leaned forward, eyes intent. "You have to!"

I returned the next morning so Jesse could disguise me as myself. Drew was clearly relieved when I showed up unblemished. The day itself went well, other than my computer crashing twice. Drew let me leave early, somewhat to my surprise; he's usually a stickler for the nine-to-five shtick. I used the time to get some food, and apparently I needed it since the spell gave way seconds after I closed the door to my place.

Tuesday, however, went significantly less well. The first time I sat down I got a painful surprise. It felt like I was sitting on a good-sized rock. And when I sat back, I discovered two more rocks behind my shoulders.

Had those appeared last week I would surely have rationalized them away as hives or unusually large blisters. But now, especially after Jesse's comments on Sunday, I knew immediately what they were. My wings and tail were starting to come in.

Every trip to Jesse's these days was urgent. This one was an emergency. I don't think I dropped below the speed limit once before I pulled into his driveway.

"You've got to do something!" I urged him. "Hasn't there been any progress?"

"Not really," he said, shaking his head. "I have an idea, but I need to look something up. I plan to go to the game shop later today and get a sourcebook."

"Good. Good. Here." I yanked my wallet out of my pocket and shoved a hundred at him.

"Um. I don't really need..."

"So you can buy the book! I don't need any more limbs, man."

He hesitated a moment more before taking the bill. "All right."

The drive to work was not comfortable. Neither was my cubicle's chair, even as padded as it was. No matter how I shifted around, my new appendages found a new way to ache. More than anything else, that solidified my decision. I gave Drew my two weeks notice that afternoon. He tried to get me to stay, but not very hard. I think he was beginning to suspect I hadn't quite escaped the convention unscathed.

The only problem came when it became apparent that I might not actually have two weeks. The slow crawling progression of scales continued unabated. It was worrisome enough on my arms and legs, but by Wednesday my head was a knobby, horny, scale-covered mass. I looked more like the Creature from the Black Lagoon than anything else, for a day or two.

Then bones started changing. Thursday my feet began to change, the proportions of the bones below the knee evening out. By Friday I was walking on the balls of my feet, which certainly earned me some odd looks from the people at work. But I had little choice; trying to walk or even stand flatfooted was awkward, even painful. Near the end of the day I was getting used to it, but I still tried one last time not to stand on tippytoes. I overbalanced badly and fell on my ass — a severely unpleasant experience, since the tail had not stopped growing.

Meanwhile, I no longer wore the baseball cap. It no longer even reached my head, hanging off my horns when I tried like they were a hat rack. And the same day I was forced off my heels I noticed that chewing my food felt strange. By dinnertime it was obvious that Kyr's muzzle was forming. It was small, more reminiscent of that of a cat or monkey than a dragon, but it would grow. Of that I had no doubts whatsoever.

And, of course, it did. It was very irritating, and not just because it was yet another sign of my humanity slipping through my fingers. As it grew out, speaking became more and more difficult. A muzzle is not properly designed for speech. (Human speech, anyway; Jesse theorized that I would be perfectly understandable in draconic tongues, were I to find someone who spoke any.) I could talk well enough if I did it very deliberately, but when I was preoccupied I sounded like a drunk. A drunk alligator, sometimes, all hissing.

The only good side of this was that the scale growth was retarded. At least on my head; everywhere else it went on as before. But it was as if only so many could be added and they had decided to push out rather than down. The front, as I was calling it, ended barely below my jaw and stayed there while my skull reshaped itself.

It was not to last. At the start of the work week, as my mouth underwent its last changes — my tongue altering, my teeth becoming longer and ''much'' sharper — the scales once more resumed their downward crawl. And a new problem developed.

Monday morning was normal enough. I woke up, inventoried in my head the latest changes, had breakfast, and headed over to Jesse's. As usual he had no real progress towards a cure, so he just disguised me and sent me on my way.

The first hour or two at work was fine, too, or at least as fine as it got these days. Midway through the morning I noticed my voice had acquired a harsh rasp. Clearing my throat helped only briefly. Indeed, "momentarily" is a more accurate word, for within a few minutes it was back. Coughing or drinking water gave the same results.

The rasp increased throughout the day. It sounded like I had an extremely sore throat, although in truth none of the changes ever actually hurt and this was no exception. Still, the new quality to my voice combined with my altered mouth to make it very hard for me to make myself understood. And it seemed to be getting worse. With some difficulty, I managed to pass it off to my coworkers as laryngitis. Or at least nobody argued with the claim, though I did get some funny looks.

There was no point in speeding over to Jesse's. A few minutes more or less would make no difference, I knew. So it was with a surprising calm that I told him, "My voice is starting to go."

"Yes, I see that." He chuckled for a moment. "Hear that, anyway."

"I don't think it's all that funny," I growled. I could growl quite impressively, now. It was very satisfying to see the wizard back up a pace.

"Sorry. Actually, I've been kind of wondering if this would happen. Keith played a little fast and loose about that."

I grunted agreeably. No race allowed in the game's rulebooks to be summoned as a familiar could talk. The GM had gotten around that by declaring that the "mental rapport" the books said wizards had with their familiars amounted to telepathy. This kept me, as a player, from having to tape my mouth shut to make sure I didn't comment on anything; everyone just pretended the words were relayed through Gray. Technically, though, Kyr had been rendered mute. Only Gray could hear him.

"Don't want to lose my voice," I rasped.

"I understand. Trust me, I understand." Jesse went to his refrigerator and pulled out a mayonnaise jar. Its contents more closely resembled deli-style mustard than mayo, however, with specks of something suspended in the glop. But even mustard wasn't green. It looked spectacularly unhealthy to touch, much less eat.

"I don't know what to do about your voice," Jesse said. "I guess I'll look into that next—"

"Please."

"—but this may help slow down the spread of your scales. Maybe even reverse it, though I'm not as confident on that one. Just spread it on the leading edge of them, like a skin cream. Yeah, like that."

The stuff was viscous and smelled nasty, but I applied it to my neck without hesitation. "How long'll it take?"

"Results? A day, maybe two. If there's no change by Wednesday night, then it's safe to say it didn't work."

"Okay." I cleared my throat uselessly. "In the meantime, work on saving my voice. Please! It's kind of important to me."

"I'll do what I can."

Unfortunately, that turned out not to be very much. My voice continued to deteriorate until, long before the week ended, I was unintelligible to everyone except Jesse. Almost surely it was due to that "rapport" he had with me. But I had to avoid conversations as much as I could and scrawl my thoughts out on a notepad when I could not. It wasn't easy, thanks to my claws, and it didn't help at all that my hands were beginning to change. They were getting ready to become forefeet.

Drew pretended not to notice, or mind. But he let me go early, well before my two weeks were up. I don't blame him; those last few days I barely got anything done.

Jesse's skin ointment — whatever it was made of, and it definitely wasn't mayo or mustard with extra coloring and stuff added in — wasn't working, either. My skin continued to turn dark and scaly. They crawled over my shoulders and began to merge with those coming down my neck. They were reaching for my hips and groin, and it wasn't hard to realize that when they were covered I would no longer be bipedal, or male. I spent a lot of time trying to decide which I dreaded more.

My "extra limbs" were still growing, too. The wings only spread out about two feet to each side, but other than size they looked complete. The tail was thick and muscular, and getting quite long; if I crouched a little I could feel the tip brushing against the floor. I had little control over anything, though. Whenever I tried to move them they just flailed about. But they forced me to give up wearing any clothing on Wednesday, four days after Jesse had advised me to rely on the disguise spell for my modesty. It was yet another reminder that I was no longer human.

Even the most idiotic driver couldn't fail to notice me now, and even if I dared it my tail prevented me from sitting in the driver's seat. So I was stuck in my apartment with nothing to do but be a couch potato and watch myself change.

On Sunday I awoke and quickly discovered a crick in my back. There was no way I could stand up straight. A quick check showed that the scales were over my hips. My groin was... strange. The scales had not transformed the skin there, but rather formed themselves into a tent of sorts. There was a bulge there rather like that of too-tight pants, but by the end of the day even that had been smoothed out. All my plumbing was suddenly internal, which made going to the bathroom something of an adventure.

I didn't get very upset at the changes, anymore. Not even that one. I simply sighed and added another checkmark to the mental list. It was all terribly depressing.

''You've been moping about the place for a week, now. Stop it.''

But it wasn't like I had anything else to do. No job, and everyone else would run if they saw me.

''Oh, I'm not so sure about that. In the right setting...''

But I was sure. Then I blinked. Who the hell was speaking, anyway? There was nobody here but me.

''I'm Jesse, of course. Remember the rapport?''

I did, even if it sounded like the title to a bad poem. "If this means I'm going to have you in my head forever, then I think I'm going to have to find someone to shoot me," I said. Or tried to say.

The words managed to get through. ''Don't be so hasty. You're not reading ''my'' mind, are you? The reverse is true as well, I assure you.'' There was a pause, and I got the impression he was frowning. ''I haven't heard from you in a while. You okay, man?''

"Not really," I growled out loud. For now I wasn't going to try just thinking at him. "For one thing, calling me 'man' is no longer appropriate. In either sense."

Another pause. ''Oh.''

"Yeah."

''Maybe I should come over.''

"Please don't. This is bad enough as it is, without a visitor."

''I'm not a visitor, I'm a friend — or so I hope. Besides, I bet you're hungry.''

Calling it hunger was an understatement by several orders of magnitude. I was, in fact, down to eating pancake mix. "All right."

Jesse didn't take very long, but thoughts of real food made it seem like forever. I spent the time learning how to think-talk to him. I also learned how to think in a manner that he would not overhear, which to say the least was a great relief.

This was the first time since Xanadu that Jesse had come to me instead of the other way around. He stepped inside quickly, laden with groceries, and looked at me appraisingly as I nudged the door shut with my tail. "Geez, man... er, girl. You should have named yourself Bertha, not Kyr!"

I was a little surprised, myself. I hadn't realized I had grown so much. But despite walking on all fours, my head was barely below his. Looking straight at him gave me an excellent view of his beard. ''Never mind that,'' I thought at him, ''where's the food?''

Jesse laughed and began taking it out of the bags. My mouth was suddenly filled with saliva as I saw what he'd brought: meat. Pounds and pounds of meat. "I wasn't sure how much you'd need," he said, grinning.

It turned out he had brought far more than I could eat. I hadn't grown all ''that'' much, yet. I was able to gorge myself before flopping onto the couch.

''Thanks,'' I told him, and meant it.

"No problem," he said. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But while I really was worried about your food supplies, giving you a jumbo-sized meal wasn't the whole reason I wanted to see you."

I eyed him suspiciously. ''Oh?''

"Have you thought about what you're going to do in the future? How you're going to live?"

I shrugged. ''A little. Not much, though. I didn't have to. Not many ways for a dragon to live. Unless you know some farms' herds I could raid?''

"Probably some up north, or east. But I think I've managed to come up with something a little more civilized. The first step, though, is that you should move in with me."

''And why would I ever do that?''

"You said it yourself: you are trapped indoors. It's difficult at best for you to go out even to get food. Paying bills like cable and rent will be a problem when you can't go out to the ATM or write a check. If you live with me, I'll take care of that. Besides," he said, and grinned again, "You ''are'' my familiar. Having you around can be a big help to me."

It made an annoying amount of sense. Still, I resisted. ''And what do you get out of this?'' I asked grumpily.

"Like I said, I get the benefit of having my familiar alongside me where she should be, rather than twenty miles away. And I'm hoping you'll be my partner in my new business venture. I could really use you there."

I looked at him intently. ''Business venture? What business venture?''

It wasn't complicated, but it was unique. At least, I'd never heard of anyone trying to do it. And it might even work, too. At the end of Jesse's spiel, there was really only one thing I could say.

''You want me to do ''what,'' exactly?''

{{Separator|stars}}

The excited jabbering of children was audible all the way in the back yard where my "lair" had been set up. I could, just barely, make out doors slamming shut from two — no, three — cars.

''They're late,'' I thought-spoke to Jesse — or Gray, as he now preferred to be called in public.

''Lighten up. Ten minutes is not that bad,'' he thought back. ''You're just nervous because this is your first birthday party. Hold on.''

''To what?'' I asked. I added a mental grin that I knew he would receive; this rapport thing was pretty versatile. I got a kind of mental chuckle in return.

I waited for most of a minute before Gray spoke again. ''Nine kids, three adults,'' he reported.

''Big group,'' I said.

''I guess somebody has wealthy parents.''

Very true. We were offering rides on dragonback, after all, not planes or even helicopters. People pay fifty dollars or more to bungee jump, and that can be done almost anywhere. But people would have to search long and very hard before they'd find another dragon to ride. We offered a service that was utterly unique, and we expected our prices to only go up.

Not that we were presently cheap. A fifteen-minute jaunt was forty bucks, thirty for kids. Longer trips cost more, up to a few hundred per person for an hours-long tour of San Francisco Bay. I doubted these people would be doing that; I couldn't carry that many people at once on my back. But even at the cheapest, these people would be giving us nearly three hundred dollars just for the rides. Add in the tee shirts and other stuff they might buy... not bad for an afternoon's flying.

''Ash? I'll be out in just a minute. Wrapping up the safety lecture now. You about ready out there?''

''Sure.'' There wasn't much for me to do, frankly, other than look as competent and as harmless as a dragon can look. The only thing I did was stand up. We'd found it's better they see my entire length straight out than for me to try the impossible feat of seeming small.

And then they were out the door. The crowd of boys (and two girls, I saw) shrieked happily when they saw me there. The adults, two women and a man, looked anxious.

"You're sure she's safe?" one of the women asked.

"Positive," Gray said, oozing confidence. "She doesn't want anything to happen to them any more than we do. She's sentient. Say hello, Kyr."

''It's Ash, damn it.'' But I raised one foreleg and waved a greeting. The woman still looked doubtful, but she didn't protest again.

The kids were looking up at me with wide eyes. That was nothing new; after my week-long growth spurt, Gray had measured me at thirty-four feet from the tip of my tail to the front of my muzzle. It was about the length of two parked cars, enough to impress anybody. One boy, bolder than the rest, dared to touch the scales on one leg. When I didn't immediately eat him the rest joined in, rubbing, poking, and pinching all over. That wasn't unusual, either, and once again I was glad that my scales were less sensitive than skin.

"All right, girl. Time to saddle up."

It had taken some doing to persuade someone to make a saddle for me. It had also taken some doing to make me wear the thing. But Gray had persisted, and I had to admit there was no way it'd be safe to let them fly bareback. And we couldn't afford to get sued. We'd been open for business for a month now, and the government was still trying to decide whether to try shutting us down. One easily prevented accident would have disastrous consequences for us, and for the "Magic Rights" movement that had sprouted in the two months since Xanadu.

Kids seemed to love watching me get saddled. It soothed the nerves of people who were a bit leery of thirty-four foot flying reptiles, too, when they saw me placidly submit to the ordeal.

I shifted and stretched to get the straps just so as Gray straightened. "Now, who's first?" he shouted over the noise. Nine hands lifted simultaneously. "She can only carry two at a time, I'm afraid. There were some disappointed groans.

''I'll take the birthday boy first, alone,'' I said. ''They'll consider that fair.''

"I just thought of the solution. The birthday boy can go first! Then the rest of you can pair up."

''You shameless idea thief.'' But I was smiling.

I crouched, and the young boy was lifted and securely buckled in. Gray tugged here and there on the straps as a final check. Then I spread my wings, beat them twice, and launched.

It had taken a while to get the hang of flying, and more for the landings. But it was getting more comfortable by the day. All the practice this venture was giving me had certainly helped. The only thing left was to move the business out of the house. The neighbors were very nervous about me.

But that was for Gray to worry about. Indeed, I was beginning to think he got the bad end of this deal. The magical consulting and spellcasting side to the venture that would have been his bailiwick was getting only a bunch of people who wanted their palms read. And for this side of the partnership, it was he who has to worry about administration, paperwork, safety, and the government. I just had to fly. And not eat anyone, of course.

As a whole, though, the business was clearly a success in the works. We already had at least a few people every day coming in for a ride. I could easily believe we'd have a full schedule by Valentine's Day, maybe even start hiring some help.

It was hardly a life I had ever anticipated living. It certainly wasn't one I would have chosen. But it wasn't bad, not bad at all. I could get to like this. Especially the flying.

I tucked my wings in and dove. Behind me, the boy screamed in joyful terror. He was loving it.

I smiled mentally. ''I'm with you, kid.''

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Mythical]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Refamiliarization}}

Loving Halloween

2007-09-12T23:38:34Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

Chris loved Halloween. It's one of the only times when he got to see people acting kinda goofy and not worrying about who sees.

It's also one of the only times he could put on his Werewolf costume in public. It was beautifully done, with real animal hair, glowing red eyes, mobile jaw, and a tail that he could halfway control by subtle hip movements. He was quite proud of it, having made it himself.

Chris might wear it in public only rarely, but he wore it around the house fairly often after work. He was one of those strange individuals who wished they were something else. He'd wanted to be a werewolf since he saw his first horror film. The grace and power of the form were very alluring.

Halloween night he went trick-or-treating around the area. His neighbors didn't mind that someone in their twenties was begging for candy, they gave to anyone in costume. Indeed, the entire area really got into the Halloween Spirit each year, using home-made decorations and strange items. No store-bought plastic miniature gravestones ever appeared on his block; instead people would rent real ones. His next door neighbor had a real skeleton and coffin in her front yard. And everybody was in costume.

So it was hardly a surprise when a sorceress answered the door.

"Hey, nice," Chris said as she opened the door.

"You like it?" she asked, posing a little. Then she reached for the bucket filled with chocolate.

"I do indeed." And he didn't like just the costume, either. Her body filled the low cut dress admirably. He grinned as she dropped his favorite chocolate bar — full-sized, no less — into his bag.

"You should see me with a wand!" she said proudly as she twirled the one in her fingers like a baton.

The whirling wand slipped from her fingers. She made a grab for it as the centrifugal force sent it flying at Chris' face. She missed. He had barely realized what had happened before it hit.

Chris blacked out for a moment. He knew it was only a moment because he was still standing in front of her. But he'd felt the impact through the mask. That wand must be made of lead, he thought, slightly dazed.

The wand's owner had her fingers curled into her mouth in the classic feminine "oops" pose. "You all right?" she asked timidly.

"Yeah, fine."

"Sorry about that," she said as she retrieved the wand from the porch. "Have another Hershey bar. Compensation."

"No thanks. I couldn't," he said, waving it off.

"Please."

He shrugged and took the proffered chocolate. "Thanks."

"You sure you're all right."

"Positive. Have a happy Halloween," he called as he began to walk to the next house.

Safely out of sight between houses he looked in his candy bag. "Chocolate," Chris grumbled. ''Doesn't anyone ever realize that dogs and chocolate do'' not ''mix?'' He sighed. ''Oh well. It'll be useful trading material.''

He started towards the next house. His tail began to wag again as he saw some kids in costume. He loved Halloween. it was one of the only times he could be himself in public and not be noticed. As the only werewolf to ever come "out of the closet," as it were, he got a lot of people in his face.

Still, the claws sometimes got irritating, as did the looks he got. Being born a werewolf wasn't any easier today than in his grandfather's time, from what he gathered.

He sighed deeply as he shuffled through a leafy lawn. And one more reason to be something else had presented itself. That sorceress was just one of many beautiful women whom he could never date.

If only he'd been born human...

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[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Loving Halloween}}

The Fugitive

2007-09-12T23:38:09Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

I can hear the helicopter getting closer. Its blades give me plenty of warning, and I'm safely hidden behind a fast food dumpster long before its sleek, featureless black body passes low overhead.

I smile as it turns and is hidden by a building. That is the only celebration I allow. It is, after all, a small victory, like the others I've won tonight. And last night, and for many nights before that.

I slip out with the sound of the chopper still fading. I need to stay on the move, and pick my resting places very carefully. There are people on foot looking for me as well, and if they're in the area a mere dumpster won't escape inspection.

This is a fairly small town, luckily, and it is late. The streets are nearly deserted. From time to time a car approaches more closely than is comfortable, but there are bushes to crouch behind, culverts to dive into, trees to scramble up.

Damn. I should have looked in that dumpster while I was there. Now I have to find another place to find food. There. A house with newspapers piled on the driveway. There's only a few, so the owners haven't been gone long. The food shouldn't be too spoiled. And it might be a good place to spend the night as well.

I prefer to rest in a house. It's more comfortable than most other options. But more importantly, they don't go searching for me there.
Searching door to door would be too invasive. They can't just declare martial law. This is my main advantage.

But they have advantages of their own. I cannot seek shelter from anyone, because they might be one of them, or innocently turn me over to my death. Worse than death. I know what it is they do, transforming the innocents they capture into hideous monsters for their own use.
There's no way I will let them do that to me.

But what ''can'' I do, then? I ponder the question as I eat my third can of ravioli. The only answer I come up with is to keep running.

I angrily throw the half-full can against the wall, spattering tomato sauce all over. Damn it! Why can't they leave me alone? They say I'm a dangerous criminal; there are pictures of me everywhere, even here.
But the only crime I can be honestly accused of is theft. They do this to make someone more likely to turn me in to them. Make me disappear, changed into something unbearable.

The room is suddenly awash in light. The helicopter! Damn, damn damn it! In my preoccupation I didn't notice it as it neared. Now I can hear it thundering directly overhead.

How did they find me? Did I hide imperfectly from a car, or did a neighbor hear the faint tinkle of glass when I broke in? It doesn't matter, they're here now, but still I wonder.

I run from room to room, searching frantically for a place they wouldn't possibly search, and find none. I look for a weapon, and find none more deadly than the knives in the kitchen. No matter, I'll fight tooth and nail if I have to, I won't be taken!

The front door downstairs crashes inwards. I take the knife and hide behind the door. Running won't work with the helicopter to direct the people on the ground. With a bit of luck, I can eliminate them. Then I can worry about evading the chopper.

I can hear their heavy boots on the stairs. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what is to come. Closer... closer... Here they come... now!

{{Separator|stars}}

"They finally got him."

Agent Graham looked up at his partner. "Really? In custody, or just found?"

Agent Brewer grinned. "In custody. Bagged and tagged and on his way here." He frowned. "Took out six men before they got a tranq into him."

Graham's jaw dropped. "''Six?'' But what about their armor?!"

Brewer shook his head. "It was just kevlar, meant to take bullets, not claws. He tore through it pretty easily."

Graham shook with rage. "Damn him!" Heads in the office turned, but he didn't care. "Damn him and the bastard scientists! Who the hell needs a human-tiger cross, anyway?"

Brewer laid a hand on his partner's shoulder. Graham managed to get himself back under control, although the anger still burned in his eyes. "Geneteched supersoldiers are a good moneymaker, even if they are illegal. You know that. But he was the last of this batch."

"Good. I hope they hang the guys who did that to him." Graham paused.
"I wonder why he ran away from the reclamation crews, anyway."

Brewer shrugged. "Some folks just would rather not be human, I guess."

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[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Fugitive, The}}

Free

2007-09-12T23:37:45Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

John Maines looked sadly into the room again. The computer, now slightly obsolete, was in one corner, next to a small bookshelf. Both had remained untouched for a year except for his wife's dusting. In the other corner was the ham radio, Zach's main hobby, equally preserved.

Posters of his son's two favorite topics — wildlife and heavy metal
— mixed incongruously on the wall. Zach was a veritable encyclopedia on either subject.

The bed was made, the clothes neatly hung in the closet. Mary had kept the room far cleaner than Zach ever had, a thought that would lift him from his depression whenever it came. Then the inevitable addition
arrived: ''When he was alive.''

His smile immediately disappeared. Zach had been killed a year ago when the steering had failed on the truck he had been driving, causing a nasty crash.

John's grief had been bad enough. The guilt he felt, though, was absolutely terrible. The truck had had sloppy steering for a while, and just before the crash it had gotten pretty bad. If he had taken the damned thing to the shop when Mary had told him to, his son would still be alive.

John blamed himself, and it was eating him from the inside out. He rarely did anything anymore except to go to work and come back. In neither place did he talk much anymore. And what it was doing to his marriage...

"John! John! Come here, quick!"

John immediately ran for the stairs. His wife was not one to rush things. If she said it was urgent, it was.

A few seconds later, he was next to Mary in the family room, looking at a scene he never would have believed if someone had told him of it.
Bowzer, the pet dog, was sitting quietly at the large glass doors, looking out. But it was what he was looking at that was so incredible.

There was a wolf outside.

''Right'' outside. If the door was opened, they could touch it without leaving the house. It was just sitting there, looking at the dog looking at him through a pane of glass.

"Holy crap..." John whispered. They lived in suburbia, not a rural area. There was woods bordering their backyard, but the nearest
''forest'' was nowhere near.

"Bowzer's not barking," Mary pointed out, her voice a whisper as well. "He barks whenever another dog comes within 30 feet of him. But he's not, now."

It took John a moment to realize she was correct. It made the scene feel even more surreal.

The wolf turned his head and looked at the pair of humans. John saw a hint of...something...in its eyes. Then it opened it mouth and began to bark.

The sounds immediately sounded odd to John. He looked at his wife, and saw a worried expression on her face as well. The barking was wrong. ''No, wait. Not wrong. Unnatural.'' And then it clicked.

"Oh my God."

He'd not heard that sequence for a year. Before that, he had heard it often. John raced upstairs, to the room he had left only a minute earlier. He strode quickly to the bookshelf, and looked the titles over as fast as he could. "Whereisit, whereisit, dammit, whereisAHA!" He pulled the book from the shelf and ran back downstairs.

"What is going on?" Mary asked, the entire episode making her nervous.

"Morse code," John said succinctly. He opened the ham radio book to the table of Morse code symbols and quickly checked them. "K2GU was Zach's ID." It checked.

"What are you saying?"

John ignored the question and walked over to the door. Bowzer gave him a quick look and whine, then resumed observing the wolf. The wolf had stopped barking when he approached.

John sat cross-legged next to his dog. "Zach? That you?" Its tail wagged and it opened its mouth in what could only be described as a canine grin.

John couldn't help it. He broke down. "I'm sorry. Oh God I'm so sorry. It was my fault..."

There was another series of barks. John jerked back to life and looked in the book. His tears were still coming, if slower; the task of translating took his mind off his grief and guilt. "No, I'm ''not'' wrong," he said forcefully, looking up from the book. "If I'd taken it into the shop..."

More barking interrupted anything he would added to that. "`Not guilty'," John said out loud when he had translated.

"He always did like Perry Mason," his wife chuckled, wiping her eyes.

John hesitated, then he reached up and pulled the door open. The wolf... Zach... didn't run. John removed his hand from the door and reached out. After a moment, Mary joined him in rubbing their son's fur. After a few seconds of this, it retreated a few steps and resumed the rhythmic barking.

"`Don't worry. Be happy.'," John told his wife as he translated.
Zach nodded his lupine head once. Then he turned and trotted towards the woods.

"Wait!" John cried as he stood and ran a few steps after his son.
He saw Zach stop, hesitate, then turn and walk back to them. "Please.
Don't leave."

Zach tilted his head to the side, the question too obvious to ask.

"I don't want you to leave. If you leave, you'll be..." John swallowed; he had to concentrate to keep from breaking up again.
"...gone."

Zach responded with another series of barks, his longest. Then he licked his father's hand, and trotted off.

"What'd he say?" Mary asked him.

John looked up from the book in his hands in time to see the wolf, at the edge of the woods, look back at him. Then it was gone.

"What'd he say?" Mary repeated, a little more urgently.

John tore his eyes from the spot Zach had entered the woods. He looked at her, really looked, for the first time in a year. He saw the eyes, wet from her own tears. But there was something else. There was a deep concern for him that he had noticed for a year now but never really ''seen'' until now.

"Uh. `Don't grieve. Live. I'm not dead. I'm free.'"

Mary blinked. "Oh," she said, softly.

John pulled her into a close hug. "C'mon. Let's go inside. Let's talk." Mary just nodded. John entered the house with his wife, and closed the door.

And began to heal.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Animal]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Free}}

Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest

2007-09-12T23:37:22Z

Xodiac:

==By [[User:Xodiac|Xodiac]]==

"Hold up, Gary," I murmured softly. "I need to rest again."

His exasperated sigh was audible through both masks, his and mine. "The eyes?"

I nodded, and he guided me to a circular bench that enclosed a palm tree. Sitting was a blessed relief, although thanks to the outfit it was somewhat awkward.

I reminded myself that this costume wasn't a result of just my labor, it was also my concept and design. The idea had been to build costumes based on Robin Hood. He would be a robin, of course, and not a fox like the cartoon. Ultimately he would be accompanied by his band of merry men — most notably Friar Duck and Will a-Scarlet Macaw, along with anyone else I could think up a good avian related pun for. But those others hadn't been finished in time for Kubla Con.

One of Robin's companions ''had'' been finished, though. His lady love, Maid Marian. (She was a horse — ''mare''-ian. I thought it was a great pun, though few others got it without an explanation.)

The problem was, Marian's costume required a renaissance-style dress, and those suckers were heavy and very cumbersome. "Robin" was lucky; even though his sleeves were modified to look like wings, and he had to carry a bow and quiver (modified to be con-safe), the tunic and vest and hat that he wore were nothing compared to a dress, two skirts, a dress, and sleeves — all before adding the mask, gloves and shoes that made her a horse.

And who wore Maid Marian? Me, of course. I didn't presently have a girlfriend, or even know any women as friends well enough to ask them to wear it. Gary's frame was slender enough that he could have passed for female, but he did better as Robin. His small size made him more birdlike, anyway, whereas my frame could certainly be a better fit for a horse. I wasn't fat, mind you, not at all. It was just that I could hardly be called slender like he could, either. The fact that I topped him by a head added to the effect. At any rate, a build like mine might have been good for the horse aspect, but I would never pass as a female. Not without a lot of work. So in addition to all the clothes the public saw, I wore a corset and stuffed bra, along with one of those padded things that bulks out the hips. With all that, and the mask to hide my face, I could pass as a thickset woman.

All of which was a somewhat long way of saying that I was ''hot.'' Being in Orlando, even in November, didn't help much. And the battery powering the fan in the muzzle that kept the air circulating was dying. Moisture was getting blown out of the nostrils slower than I was sweating it into the air, and the plastic eyes had gotten all foggy. It probably looked like my costume had cataracts, and she might as well have. I was about as blind.

For ten minutes we just sat. I tried hard to breathe as little as possible to prevent even more moisture from fogging up the eyes. Eventually I could see more than vague shapes again, and began paying attention to the other costumes. Along with the usual assortment of Klingons, Jedi, and superheroes, some stood out. A few of them were quite good, like the dragon that must have contained at least two men. Others were not so great, like the robot that was clearly assembled in ten minutes from cardboard boxes, spray paint, and a magic marker. And a few were just puzzling. What did a ballerina, a US Marine Captain, or an anthropomorphic white rabbit have to do with science-fiction or fantasy? If the rabbit had been wearing an Elizabethan outfit I could say it was from Caroll, but he was just wearing overalls.

"We're going to be late," Gary complained, though still speaking softly. Although the jaws moved, speaking in these masks was to be avoided. It didn't sound right.

I nodded my reply, but still took my time getting up. The awards ceremony to give out the big prizes — cash, this year! — would be starting any time now, true, but I knew we wouldn't win any of those. I had thought I'd done a good job with what we were wearing, but some of the ones out there were good enough for movies. Besides, we'd already won a prize for "good couple." It was clearly a minor category, and one I've never heard of before at ''any'' con, but I wasn't about to complain. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks.

The main ballroom, where the major awards were to be dispersed, was crowded. All of the chairs within easy reach were occupied, and the walls were jammed with people. Nearly all of them were in costume, though for a sizable number it was just the funny prosthetic animal noses that were being sold in the dealer's room.

A man was ascending the low stage to join a woman in a leafy dryad outfit. He was tall, but beyond that details were impossible to discern because his clothing was a featureless black and he wore a mask. He looked like a very distinguished crow, or maybe raven. He must be the millionaire funding all the prizes, I surmised. I was proved right a moment later when the woman announced, "Eric Winters, everyone!" By then everyone at the con knew that name.

Mr. Winters took the microphone, a cat-person on one side and the dryad on the other. For several seconds he said nothing, waiting for crowd noise to die down a bit. Then he swayed, looking like he was drunk or perhaps suffering from heat exposure.

"What a wimp," I said to myself. Even though he was dressed all in black, my costume had to be a hundred times worse. Although, now that I was thinking about it again, it didn't seem so bad anymore. It was still hot and heavy, but not oppressively so, and my field of view was the best I'd had in hours. Maybe ten times worse, then.

The audience was beginning to murmur nervously. Suddenly several people interspersed throughout the hall screamed almost in unison, and panic took hold of the room.

People and costumes were running everywhere, screaming and bellowing. I laid my ears flat against the cacophony. "What is it? What is happening?" I cried. What caused the panic? I was scared more of the people here than of some danger of which I knew nothing!

"Come, my Lady!" Robin shouted over the din. "This place is unsafe!"

A bright red bar of light flashed nearby, leaving afterimages in my eyes. What looked like a man made of silver was exchanging blows with... "A griffin! My goodness, how didst a griffin get in here? Where art the guards?"

"''Please,'' Marian!"

I looked at Robin. He only called me by name in the most dire of circumstances. I had to admit that this was the most dire I could recall. "Lead on," I ordered.

He took me by the arm and aimed us at the door. Twas a shame he had not brought his sword, for it would have been of great help. Strangely, I couldn't for the life of me remember why he hath left it behind. Surely it would not have called attention to him in ''this'' lot!

For once, my lover was not gentle. Not with me and certainly not with those between us and our exit. We were somewhat aided by the fact that so many others were aimed at the same set of doors, though for some reason Robin was taking us on something of a meandering path which countered that benefit. I was jostled about quite a bit myself by wretches too uncouth or uncaring to properly treat nobility. I had to hike my skirts indecently high to prevent them from being ruined. Something crunched beneath my hooves — a scaly hand, I saw when I looked back. It wasn't moving.

At last Robin pushed aside one final obstacle, a grey-skinned woman whose beautiful dress was ruined by a gaudy overabundance of jewelry. We veered sharply away from the majority of those streaming out of the great hall and ducked inside a smaller room. There was an arrangement of tables on one end, but the rest of the room was occupied by chairs, some in obvious disarray. It was as if an eccentric highborn man had intended fifty people to watch him eat. Most curious.

But there were no people. "This seems safe enough," Robin declared.

"Indeed so."

Whoever's castle this was (I could remember its name — Xanadu — but oddly, not its lord's), was clearly wealthy beyond compare. The chairs were made not of wood, but metal! Such extravagance! Even with the thin layer of padding they looked uncomfortable, however. But those at the long table looked no different, so I took one near the end and sat.

- And immediately snorted in surprise. I jumped to my feet, rubbing my buttocks. Robin's trilling laugh echoed from the walls. "Watch yourself, my love! These seats were not made for tails. Inconsiderate of our host, whosoever that might be, don't you think?" He, too, had taken a chair, but was sitting on it sideways so as not to ruffle his tailfeathers.

I nodded slowly. So he knew not who ruled here either, did he? But there was something strange about his words...

"''A tail?''" I yelped, and turned to look closely at my backside. A part of me cringed at such unladylike behavior. Another was screaming that I had never been a lady! Nor had I ever had hooves, or a muzzle, or a tail. The dress hadn't been tailored for a tail! But now I had all of these, and more. I didn't want to contemplate exactly what more I had; I suspected I'd find out all too soon. "What on Earth didst happen to me?" I stopped there, surprised by how I spoke.

Robin — no, Gary — approached and put his winglike arms around me. "I know thou art distraught, love. Twas a terrible row we just escaped. But you seem unharmed, if a touch disheveled." He smiled, somehow, despite the beak. "Though, verily methinks it only adds to your beauty."

For a few seconds I felt comforted by his words and embrace. My lover had ever been the flatterer! Then I pulled roughly away. Gary had ''certainly'' never been a lover of mine, and Robin hadn't existed ten minutes ago! I shuddered. It was frightening how easy it was to slip into Marian's personality.

Robin looked deeply hurt at my retreat. "Robin -" I stopped. My voice! It was very definitely a woman's, now. There was no chance of pretending to be male even to a blind man. I gathered my nerve and tried again. "Do you know anyone named Gary?" Please...

But he frowned in thought for too long. I knew the answer well before he spoke. "I know none by that name. Wouldst he perchance be a new recruit for my band?"

I shook my head sadly. His name hadn't brought him out of character. Maybe nothing would, but I vowed to try again later. Still, I wondered why he was stuck so firmly as Robin Hood while I was only a part-time Maid Marian. I shook my head again, more firmly. That, too, would have to wait.

"Not some popinjay after your affections, I hope!" Robin exclaimed. "I do so hate competition."

"Thou dost love competition."

"Ah, well. Tis you who knows my heart best." He paused for a moment. "The noise seems much diminished. We should take our leave ere the guards arrive. Tis by God's own grace that they have not already."

It occurred to me that the local sheriff would probably be much more easily countered than the one he was worrying about. At least Nottingham's knew who he was up against. Still, it would not do to be present when the cops arrived. It would be indecent for a woman of my stature to be incarcerated for participating in a common brawl, however uncommonly large.

I grimaced. These personality shifts were going to take some getting used to.

Outside the room, the place had the seeming of a town after flood. Tables that had been covered with some merchant's wares were overturned and broken, his inventory strewn everywhere. The only people to remain were three stormtroopers marching back towards the great hall. We stayed out of their way and their sight until they were past, then headed in the opposite direction, marveling at the wonderful flameless torches and the impossibly clear glass. I had never seen the like!

Our error was quickly made apparent. Twas clearly the direction the great majority of the mob had gone. We could see the throngs outside through more great sheets of that glass. But when we approached closer to see, another marvel revealed itself. As we neared, a portion slid aside of its own accord, revealing itself to be not a window but a door. We both blinked and looked at each other. Then he shrugged and stepped through, leaving me to follow in his wake.

Outside was chaos. But twas the chaos of a tourney, not that of a brawl. Except it missed the festive air. Most of the people looked quite displeased, indeed! Men and creatures were sitting with dejected looks upon their visages. Some were weeping or wandering aimlessly, as if their wits had deserted them.

Strange movement caught my eye: a pair of turning lamps, one burning red, the other blue. The rested on an oddly-shaped box of metal and glass. More were arriving, accompanied by a wail audible for a mile or more. My awe was less than it might have been, however, as I realized they were some sort of vehicle. There were just too many wonders, and my sense of awe was becoming dulled from overuse.

The guards — no, the ''police!'' — were here at last. I glanced at Robin, but while he had seen them arrive he was as yet unaware of their significance. They were already beginning to block off the exits from the parking lot. Within an hour, or maybe half that, none would be able to leave the grounds without their permission.

"The sheriff's men art here," I told Robin.

"Oh?" His head darted about, searching. "Where? I see them not?"

"The cars — the metal boxes with lamps atop them. Those art his."

"Ah... art thou sure, my Lady? Their garb is peculiar."

"A new set of armor doth change not who they be. Tis they, for certain." I hoped Gary would emerge soon. Having to term everything so Robin Hood would understand was an arduous task. And that was when I understood it, myself.

The avian face looked thoughtful. I knew instantly what he had in mind. "Thou art mad if thou thinketh you can force conflict now!"

He trilled, clearly amused. "Against greater numbers, with neither stalwart companions nor plan? Nay, fear not, my love. I dost not be quite so foolish as that!"

I looked at him suspiciously. If he didst not desire a battle, what then? Only one thing came to mind. "Thou art planning a grand jest." Drawing attention to us out of these multitudes was second only to a fight in my estimation of things to be avoided. "We haven't the time! More guards arrive by the moment!" But the gleam in his eye was accompanied now by a stubborn set to his beak. I gulped and tried a different approach, on that I had rather hoped to avoid. I grasped the ends of his wings gently and in the softest, most sincere tone I could muster said, "For me, my... my love?"

For a moment I thought even that might not be enough. Robin Hood was the rogue's rogue. But he was also something of a gentleman. "Since thou dost insist," he said. "Though it doth pain me to leave without tweaking his nose by letting him know who he almost caught in his net." With one backward glance at the police, we left.

Escaping them was simplicity itself. We simply walked out of a side of the parking lot from which there were no sanctioned exits. The police had done little more than block and regulate the ways cars could come and go. By no means was the "net" tight enough yet to catch those without them.

As we walked, Robin turned his head about often to stare at some new wonderment. He said nothing, just taking it all in. And there was so very much to take in! His state made it easy for me to take the lead. And, thanks to how I had somehow not completely become Marian, I even had some idea where to go.

The highway was not far from Xanadu. When it came into view we both stopped and stared. We had thought the cars were going impossibly quick on the local streets, but it was as nothing compared to this!

"What is this place?" Robin said over the din of hundreds of moving cars.

"Tis the highway," I called back. "We needs must ride one of these."

He didn't look precisely scared. Acutely worried, mayhap. "Art thou sure we must? We could always walk."

I nodded. "Twould take days to reach safe haven by hoof." I blinked; that was supposed to be ''by foot.'' "Fret not. These cars dost be harmless if thou dost not stand before them."

"How canst thou be so certain?"

"I am a learned mare."

That mollified him. Together we made our way to the highway. Robin had little trouble with the chain-link fence on its edge; he simply jumped over, aided by a few flaps of his wings. I had somewhat more difficulty. Neither my hooves nor my dress were well suited to climbing. We had to search for some time before finding a tear in the links.

We walked onto the shoulder. I let Robin support me a bit; loose stones unbalanced me whenever they chanced to be beneath my hooves. Then I stuck out a thumb in the traditional manner. It felt a mite peculiar, until I realized I had only three fingers.

One more thing to get used to.

Twice cars slowed and began to drift our way, and twice they regained their incredible speed and passed us by. But a third did not veer off, and stopped a few dozen feet away. It was of the type that looked somewhat like the wagons with which we were both familiar, except the driver's area was enclosed and as always there were no horses to pull it. It also was not in the best of conditions, with rust and dents riddling its body.

The glass window near us was absent. Within was a single occupant, large and bearded. "Need a ride?" he drawled.

"Verily."

"C'mon in, then."

We nodded, then paused. How to enter was not immediately clear. Then Robin scrambled in through the opening.

"I will not crawl inside like that!" I declared, hands on my hips. "Twould be unbecoming!"

"Why don't you use the door then, miss?"

We looked at the man. He was trying hard not to laugh. I could feel my ears redden as I blushed. "Thou dost mock me!"

"Sorry, miss, sorry. I just... never mind. Ya open the door by pulling on that handle there. Yeah, that. Now pull..."

Part of the side swung away, and it was suddenly much easier to get inside. "I thought that was an ornament," I declared as I got in. I had to sit slightly sideways on the padded bench, since, as at Xanadu, he had not thought to accommodate those with tails. Robin had a similar problem, and solved it the same way. It changed the seat from small to truly cramped, but I still managed to close the door — carefully, mindful of my skirts.

The strange wagon started to move. Its speed continued to build until it was the countryside that moved too fast for comfort. By contrast, the nearby wagons were almost still, shifting position slowly. I confess that my hands were clenched tight on the metal door.

"First time ridin' a car, is it?"

Robin nodded stiffly. I noticed he kept his eyes on the man rather than the petrifying view outside. Then I closed my eyes so I didn't have to look at it, either.

"Well, as ya can see it ain't so bad, is it? A little scary at first but ya get used to it quick. By the way, my name's Sam."

"We are honored. I am Robin Hood and this is my Lady love, Marian."

"Uh... right. Good job on those costumes. Damn, they can do anything these days! So where do ya come from, that ya ain't never ridden before?"

"We hail from Sherwood Forest."

A pause. "Right. Well... Oh! Heh, I get it now. ''Robin'' Hood. Clever!" I wondered what was so clever about it. Twas his name, nothing more. "Well, you're pretty far from there, eh?"

"Indeed. Thou didst speak but a moment past of never before meeting people who have ridden in a... car?"

"Yeah, damn near everyone's ridden in these things — unless you're Amish, maybe, and I don't think you are. They just don't wear costumes like yours. Just about everyone owns one, too, except the poor and those damn Amish again."

I didn't have to be watching to see Robin perk up at the mention of the poor. "So tis only rich Lords such as yourself who own these cars, then."

Sam laughed, a deep bass that set my ears to ringing. "I ain't no lord! Just about anyone can buy one if they save up, thank God. Only the really down-and-out can't manage it." His voice shifted, sounding concerned, as he said, "Gonna need a new one myself, pretty soon. This one's in bad shape. Need new everything. Even the radio's busted, which is why I can't play some music for ya."

We rode in silence for a few seconds. I cracked open my eyes, saw a tree zoom past, and immediately shut them again. I spent the time trying to imagine what a radio was and how one might be played.

"Say, where ya goin', anyway? Or are ya just driftin'? If ya are, then I can only bring ya as far as Miami. Not there's a whole lot after that!"

"I dost not think so," Robin said carefully. "Where were we going, Marian? Thou didst have a place in mind, thou claimed."

I did? But after a moment I remembered our destination, and I told it to Sam.

"Well, great! That's just two exits up!" he said cheerfully. "Good thing I asked when I did, eh?"

When I felt the car slow down, I managed to pry my eyes open once more. The scenery still moved much too fast, but I could stand it now. There were fewer buildings than the area near Xanadu, and they were smaller and less garish. Houses. Sam made a few turns, fast and sharp enough to be nauseating, and stopped before one of them.

"Here ya are. I hope y'all have fun at your party. Ya got some damn good costumes."

"Thankee for the kind words, good sir," Robin replied. I bowed my head, acknowledging our benefactor's praise, then opened the door and stepped out.

Our destination was a dwelling that was apparently average, judging by others nearby, but it was in truth as large as a small Lord's hunting retreat. It had but one floor, however, and a large hollow space to one side that took up a great deal of room. It was separated from the indoors by more sheets of flawless glass.

The building was familiar, yet not. I remembered it clearly, and knew it was safe to remain there after leaving Xanadu. But I could not recall what made it safe. Were it not for how we had no other place to go, I might have shied away from this mystery.

My lover had exited and was speaking to Sam. "Thankee for thine help. Take this as a token of my gratitude." From the purse at his hip he withdrew a square-cut ruby perhaps half an inch on each side.

Sam guffawed as he took it in hand. "Thanks, Robin. Ya do the act pretty damn good, there. Too bad it ain't real."

"Tis real enough, I assure thee."

Sam peered at him skeptically. "Perhaps now thou canst buy a new radio," I suggested. He would want an instrument before the long winter months arrive, else the boredom would become acute.

"Ha! If this is real I can buy a new ''car!'' Ha ha! See y'all later, folks. Have a good time." Sam closed the door with a thunk and drove away, still chuckling.

I whirled on my lover. "Where didst thou get those?"

"From the rich, of course!"

"From the guests at Xanadu!" I raged. "Truly thou art mad! Thou stealeth from the guests of our host! Tis a poor way to show gratitude for his hospitality!"

"His hospitality could be better," Robin countered. "Poor seats and a near-battle in the hall, and yet he doth not even deign to show himself! Twas my due, for the inconvenience if for no other reason." I glared at him. He could be so trying at times! "Besides, my sweet, what's done is done. There is no gain in anger now."

I retained my glare for a moment longer, to show I was giving in but did not have to. Then I asked from where he got the gem.

"Twas from that grey lady. Verily, she had more than was good for her soul. I was duty-bound to relieve her of some of her wealth. Half my takings came from her alone!"

''Half?'' "Just how much didst thou steal?"

In response he opened his purse. The small bag was filled with perhaps two score bits of jewelry and loose gems of various sizes and colors. One emerald was near the size of a hen's egg! "My word..." I gasped.

"In all the confusion that abounded, twas simplicity itself to relieve the rich of some of what makes them so haughty."

A girl, mayhap five years of age, was across the street, watching us with wide eyes and open mouth as we argued. I smiled reassuringly at her, and was rewarded with a tentative one in return. I thrust the bag of jewels back at Robin and strode towards the house. "Come. We art attracting attention. This is not the place to show such wealth."

Gaining entry was not quite so simple as opening a door, however, for all we found were locked. But my love had among his many skills those of an accomplished burglar. Twas only a matter of reaching an understanding of these locks.

"There," he said at last as the door from the hollow area opened at last. "After you, my Lady."

I walked into a dwelling that was oddly familiar. Strange furniture filled the room, and the most skillfully done paintings I had seen in my life hung from the walls. Beyond was a room the likes of which I had never seen. In one corner was a large box that quietly hummed and the walls were lined with cabinets filled with plates and goblets filled with glass. Was this the kitchen, then?

Yes, of course it was. I opened the refrigerator and withdrew an apple and a few slices of cheese. I had the feeling it would be wise to avoid the lunch meat. "There is food here, it thou art hungry," I called to Robin.

"Ah, thou art a wonder, my love." Robin nibbled on the base of my neck as he passed — his version of a kiss, it seemed. He paused when he reached the fridge's open door. "Tis cold!"

"Indeed so." There was little else to say.

His face turned thoughtful. "This kingdom in which we find ourselves is rich beyond compare. Beyond dreaming! The Lord who doth maintain this lodge commands such wondrous magics. Twould do much for the poor, methinks."

"Well, mayhap..."

"Mayhap! How could it not be so? Just look at the riches around us!"

"Struth, but... well."

The next few hours were consumed by giving Robin a brief summary of American society. It was somewhat difficult to convince him that most people, even the poor, had refrigerators and flameless lights, and that most of those without them had no place to put them. Unlike the England we remembered, the poor would not starve. Even once he had some idea, however, it did not change the mission he had imposed upon himself to help the poor overcome their hardships.

"Though it may require a change of strategy, perchance," he admitted. I laughed. His persistence was wonderful. It's one of the reasons I love him so dearly.

No, no. I don't. Not love...

In the course of the conversation I did determine one sad fact: Gary was gone. I knew already that he didn't recognize the name; now I knew that his job, his home town, and even his dog were all unfamiliar to him. Perhaps sometime in the future some part of Gary will emerge, but I didst not hold high hopes.

Our discourse was interrupted by the sound of an approaching car. We halted, then moved back into the kitchen. It was out of immediate view of all the doors, so we might have time to determine if the newcomer was friend or foe.

The car stopped in the hollow space. The door from there opened slowly. "Hello? Guys? I know you're here, I saw you in the window..."

As the man entered the kitchen Robin slid in quickly behind him, his belt knife pressed under the man's armpit. "Who art thou?" Robin demanded.

The newcomer was young and thin, and his eyes were wide with fear. "I'm S-Scott. I live here! Don't you remember me, Gary? I let you guys stay here during the con."

I stepped forward. "Our apologies, dear Scott. We didst not know for certain who might pursue us."

Scott stared at me as Robin put his knife away. He looked as if he had been punched. "Shit..."

"Mind your language," Robin said harshly. "A Lady doth be before you!"

"Uh... sorry. You've turned into them, haven't you? Robin Hood and Maid Marian?"

"Those art indeed our names, good sir," Robin told him.

"Of sorts," I amended. Both of them looked at me a touch oddly, but I said nothing more as yet.

With the introductions past, we took a few moments to look each other over. No doubt he wished to see what this curse had wrought on us, and the thought was mutual. It was not difficult to see what had come of Scott. His face had a decidedly feline cast to it, with a small muzzle and ears atop his head framing a mass or orange and black hair. Most interestingly, his eyes had remained entirely human.

"I see thou didst not come away from Xanadu unscathed," I commented.

We moved into the living room as he told us what happened. He hadn't worn a full costume as we had. (Robin cocked his head here, for he didst not recall any costume, but I forestalled any comment with a hand on his wing.) Instead, he had bought a cheap animal nose, held over his own by a band of rubber, and a matching pair of ears. When the curse was cast, his visage became halfway that of a tiger.

"After the riot," Scott told us, "I couldn't find you. For a long while I was sure you were still there, 'cause I was your ride back. By the time I gave up searching, the police had set up a kind of quarantine. The only reason they let me out is because my changes were ''relatively'' minor and I'm a local.

"They art not so minor to mine eyes," Robin said.

"Ah... I did say relatively minor. I mean, just look at you two!"

"What about us?"

Scott didn't quite know what to make of that.

We explained how we made our way here from Xanadu. Beyond that, there was little enough to say. It would never occur to Robin to explain the changes to his mental state, and I was reluctant to clarify the issue to Scott with him present. Our host did attempt some probing questions, which I confess I did a poorer job of answering than I would have anticipated. I could remember a computer, but not how it was used. I knew of television, but only after being reminded of its existence, and had not the slightest of notions about how such a thing could possibly be. But his inquiries were halfhearted at best, as if he feared the answers. It is likely at its end he thought us both equally lost. He seemed discomfited at the conclusion, and it was with a morose air that he announced he would begin work on our evening repast.

I found it interesting that while I found the chicken faintly revolting and had to content myself with the vegetables and a dinner roll, Robin ate it all with little consequence. Still, even such simple fare was tasteful enough to satisfy. But the meal was a somewhat tense affair. Scott was clearly uncomfortable in our presence and ate quickly. He to his bedroom immediately afterwards, pausing only long enough to indicate where we were to sleep.

There wasn't much left to do — that we could do — except prepare for bed. I spent a few minutes explaining to Robin the proper use of a toilet. (He had considered it a basin to wash clothes in, and had been about to resort to using tupperware as a chamberpot — something I doubted Scott would see much humor in.) My own first time using the toilet as a mare was a sensation I would never forget, though twould not do to recount the experience.

That done, I retired to the room Scott had designated as ours. Robin was already there. "What dost thou thinketh of our host?"

"Worried," I replied without a moment's hesitation. "We are not what he expected."

Robin stood before me, looking thoughtful. "What didst he expect, I wonder."

"Who could say?" I could, of course. But how dost one tell a lover — well, a friend — that he is but a figment of a man's imaginings? And how dost one feel when thou art the figment? I knew not the answer to either question.

"He strikes me as morose. But a good man, nevertheless. Merely troubled by the day's events."

"Tis no surprise, surely."

Robin laughed. "Nay, tis not. Twas a very trying day. Very trying." He paused. "Wilst thou be preparing for bed? Or wilst thou be sleeping in all yon finery?"

I honestly hadn't thought about it, but he did have a point. I had no nightgown, and I certainly was not about to sleep in the nude! "My chemise wilst do until we find other garb," I decided.

"Well and good. Thou wilt need assistance with thine dress. With thine permission?"

After a moment's pause I nodded. Donning the dress by myself was by no means an easy feat, and removing it scarcely any easier. Such garb typically requires a handmaiden, but I was under no illusion that I might find one here. Robin could fill the role nicely, however.

His winglike arms and hands were deft as they unknotted the golden silk ribbons that held my bodice closed. He removed the outer dress and folded it neatly over a chair. This he repeated with the underskirt. But when I tried to turn towards the bed, his arms held me, pulled me close. "Thou art a beautiful mare," he whispered.

''Oh, no.'' "I... uh..."

"Truly beautiful," he continued over my stammers. His hands rubbed my sides. "And it has been a long a trying day. Please do permit me to soothe thine fears and comfort thine nerves."

I wouldst welcome some comfort just then, but not in quite that manner! His hands were warm and soothing, yet I stepped back and away. "Thou art forward!" I chided.

My legs struck something and I stumbled. Instantly my love was there, his arms turning my tumble into a graceful seating upon the edge of the bed. "Forward, my life? Yea, perhaps so. But then, I am but a knave, who knows not such manners as those you are privy to. But verily I am an eager student. Speak out, and I wilst halt mine transgressions upon thine person."

''He doth try to seduce me!'' my mind cried. And evidently he was succeeding, for I watched in silence as his hands shifted to cup, then massage my breasts. My body suddenly felt warm, the skin beneath my fur all atingle, and my breathing grew both quicker and deeper. This can not be happening! But my body told me otherwise.

Robin pushed me gently, lowering me back against the sheets. I found myself unable to resist his advances. Unable to ''want'' to resist. His words and ministrations and just the scent of him had quickened my blood. As much as I might fight it, I ''wanted'' him to consummate our love that was deep and oh so true.

The sudden sound of breaking glass shattered the mood. My mate looked understandably displeased, and I fear I emitted a most unladylike whinny of frustrated lust. But then we realized together that this had been no dropped dish. Something of goodly size had made its way inside by means of a window.

Robin fair to leapt away towards his arms. "Stay here whilst I see to this!" he ordered me as he buckled his belt about his waist.

But I was up but a moment later. "Nay. I am coming as well." I didst not bother attempting to don my dress — twould take far too long. But I did pull on the underskirt. A woman must retain ''some'' modesty! Twould not do to run about in one's shift.

The crashing sounds of struggle were audible through the walls as Robin searched frantically for his sword before remembering he had not brought one. He cursed softly and with a single smooth movement strung his bow. "You must. I wouldst not have thee hurt in a fray!"

I strapped my purse about my waist. Twould possibly be more a hindrance than a help in any fray, but twas full of coinage and I was loath to leave it unguarded. "Then I will just have to stay out of harm's way," I said haughtily. "But I wilst be ''damned'' if I will merely sit in this room with hands folded, awaiting word of your success or failure!"

Robin waggled a finger at me. "Such words so not become a Lady!" But he was smiling.

The shouts could no longer be ignored. "Go, then!"

It was back in the room we had first entered that the commotion was. The large sheets of glass were broken, shards scattered all about. The couch upon which Robin and I had sat as we and Scott exchanged tales was broken as well, each half in a different corner of the room.

In its center was a sight fit to put ice in my stomach. Scott stood upright, but suspended a foot or more in the air by sheets of a green-tinged lightning. It traveled over and around his body again and again, but there was no thunder, only a sizzle like frying meat. Scott's hair was on end, some of it beginning to scorch, and his face was a rictus of pain.

Standing before their host was an apparition out of nightmare. It was as if sleek red robes and enough gold to buy an earl's estate had been bestowed upon a corpse, who in turn decided not to let it go to waste mouldering away in a grave. Its skin was mottled with rot and oozing sores, and its fingernails were long and yellow. When it spoke its voice was harsh and raspy. "This is your last chance," it cooed horribly, and I shuddered. Each word felt like maggots were crawling through mine hair. "Your very, very, very last chance. Are you quite certain you won't tell?"

"Never! Heard! Of it!" Sean gasped out in spurts.

"That's too bad," the thing said, its tone still a parody of sweetness. "Now I'll have to tear this place apart. Starting with you."

Robin had had enough. He nocked an arrow and cried, "Hold, varlet! Lest I put a clothyard shaft through thine heart!"

The corpse turned without haste. Then its eyes — blind and milky white, but somehow still seeing — widened in recognition. "You!"

"Yea, tis I, Robin Hood! Now release him!"

The thing looked startled at first. Then it did the unthinkable: it turned up its head and laughed. Long and hard, chest heaving with genuine humor. "Of ''course'' you are! I should have guessed!" With a casual flick of his wrist the lightning vanished, and Scott was sent flying like so much refuse. He hit a wall and tumbled down in a smoking heap, unmoving.

Robin's face clouded. His feathers were quite literally ruffled. My love didst never much enjoy being himself the object of ridicule. His shot was his revenge. At this distance, mere paces away, he could scarcely miss, and I heard the air whistle with the force of its passage as it flew true. The corpse-thing staggered with the impact.

But it did not fall. It reached to the arrow piercing its chest — exactly where the heart was — and yanked the shaft out. It did not flinch as the flesh tore, gobbets spattering on the floor. It threw it away with an ugly chuckle. "Excellent shot, 'Robin.' But you'll find me harder to kill than that."

I cried out in sudden fear as it pointed at us. We dove away in different directions, somehow knowing that this was no harmless gesture, but Robin was struck by an identical curtain of lightning to that which had ensnared our host. From just inside the doorway I watched as he was pulled upright to float where Scott had. "Now. Where is my Aelpa?"

"I know not."

Its face twisted in absolute rage. "You of all people must know! You took it from me! You!" The lightning increased, the sizzling growing until I thought myself deafened. Robin jerked spasmodically in the things power. After long, long seconds of this it softened enough that he could speak.

And still he resisted, as I knew he would. "I know not what this 'Aelpa' is," he stated as nobly as he could manage under the circumstances. "And I fail to remember taking anything at all from one as ugly as thineself. But if I had, twould be mine by right! If thou canst not prevent thine possessions from going astray then thou hast none to blame but thine own self."

Unsurprisingly, our assailant disliked such an answer. A quick motion and the lightning renewed itself once more. My Robin screamed and flailed about, but the evil creature showed no mercy. For most of a minute I helplessly watched my be tortured.

Finally the display somewhat abated. The corpse stepped in close, until its face was bare inches from my lover's beak. "Now listen, birdy," it said softly, the voice still horrible to hear. "I didn't expect to become a Kestagian Mage at Xanadu, but there's no way in Hell that I will pass this opportunity up. So I'm going to give you one last chance, much like I gave your friend." It gestured vaguely to where Scott still lay. "Where is my Aelpa?"

Robin's reply was terse. "Fuck off and die!"

Its face clouded. "You know, birds and glass have a rather nasty relationship. Did you know that?" My love abruptly went sailing across the room to crash into the lone remaining pane of plate glass. And enormous thud was clearly audible just before the pane shattered and he continued through it.

"Robin!" I screamed, and ran to follow my love regardless of the danger. But danger did not disregard me. Before I had made half a dozen strides I felt a burning across my entire body, and I felt myself lifted in the room's center to hang like a butchered goose on display.

"Perhaps you'll be more co-operative," the nightmare before me rasped.

I tried to shrink away. If its voice was belike to maggots in mine hair when it was merely overheard, it felt like worms in mine skull when it was directed at me. I fear that voice still, and can hear it yet in my mind.

"I know not!" I cried immediately, since I knew what question he meant to ask. Beyond the glass I couldst see nothing but blackness, for Robin had been thrust too far and the night had swallowed him. "Let me go! I canst not give you that which you ask! We know not what it is!" I didst not bother to hide my fear. Not fear of death, for that wouldst only allow me to join Robin in his, hopefully to meet in Heaven (no doubt after a suitable length in Purgatory, in his case). Nay, I must confess that I feared the pain to come, for I was no warrior or hero to resist such torments as I had already witnessed. "Kill me or let me go, but wither way do it and be done! I canst tell thee nothing of worth."

I dost not know which path it planned to choose — though of a certain I have my suspicions! But before he could do either there arose behind him Scott, his hair still asmoulder. He swung a great piece of wood I recognized as part of the broken couch, swung and connected with the thing's head. There was a great crack, and I thought for certain that its head was stove in, for the lightning that surrounded me vanished and I dropped bonelessly to the floor. I scrambled frantically away, sure that the corpse would fall, now a corpse in truth. But it didst not. It only turned, anger written plainly on its visage. Scott's lips peeled back in a feline snarl that wouldst surely have been fearsome, but for the greater horror before me. He swung his makeshift club again at the mage's head.

It never struck. The creature uttered something and flung his hand outwards, and the wood crashed to the floor from thumbless paws. Paws that were in turn attached to a tiger, rather than a tiger-man. The mage realized the error just as the beast leapt for its throat, and twas merely a cub that smacked against the thing's chest. It staggered from the hit, but the cub fair to bounced off to sit on the floor, shaking its head to clear it.

"Dammit!" it cried out in Scott's voice. "I thought I was safe from all this transformation shit!"

The entire room grew still for a moment. Twas a strange thing indeed to hear such words come from a tiger, and a cub at that! We all looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, and he himself seemed stunned. Then the corpse drew back its leg for a mighty kick. Scott saw, and scampered away.

The thing snorted, and I know not whether twas in frustration or satisfaction or mayhap even humor. Then it returned its attentions once more to me, and its visage was truly terrible to behold. It stepped forward as if this time to beat me to death instead of torturing me with its magics.

Yet again twas interrupted. A loud mechanical roaring came from outside. As one we turned to look beyond the broken panes. And twas an incredible sight! Twas Scott's own car speeding towards us, Robin my love behind the wheel!

Once more I scrambled hastily to win clear of a danger bearing down upon me. But he steered it away and directly into the evil mage, who in his startlement had not the thought to cast some spell that might save him. Robin drove the car into and over it, actually rolling over it with one of the tires.

"Marian!" he called through the window. "Make haste! Get in!"

I didst not argue. Already I couldst see stirrings beneath the car — even a blow as great as this couldst not kill it! I hurried into the vehicle, sitting sideways again, and Robin scarcely waited for me to close the door before shifting the lever attached to the wheel before his chest. We sped off, backwards, with a bump that hurt mine tail as we ran over our assailant a second time, and another, greater one as we left the building to the outside. The he shifted again, and we were moving forward at a goodly clip away from the damaged house.

"Art thou all right? Thou art not injured?" he asked once we were on our way.

"Nay. I am fine, although mine nerves art shattered beyond doubt. What of thee?"

"Struth, I am surprisingly uninjured, with the sole exception of a truly monstrous headache. But my bow was broken by the fall, I fear, and most of mine arrows lost."

"I've no doubt you can find another. I myself lost mine only dress!"

Robin's laugher lightened mine heart. "And that too can be replaced without difficulty, I'm sure. But where is our host? I am loath to leave him in yon mage's clutches, yet I saw him not when I drove in."

"Of that I know not, I fear. He hast become a mere cub, thanks to foul magic, and afterwards ran off."

For a few moments the car was silent save for its running. Then he said, "He shalt have to make do on his own, then. We canst not risk a search."

I nodded mine agreement but remained silent. A thought more pressing came to mind. "Robin, my love... How canst it be thy knoweth how to use one of these cars? For I know of a certainty I couldst not."

"Ha! Tis because thy kept thine eyes closed for the previous journey! But I watched how friend Sam managed it, and so was able to do it myself when the need arose."

The answer made sense on the surface of it, but the more I pondered the less satisfying it became. He drove far too skillfully to have learned merely by watching, and never once had Sam touched the gearshift. So how, then, didst Robin know its use?

The only thing I couldst think of was that perhaps, despite all earlier tests by Scott and mineself, some part of Gary didst survive. Twas a notion supported by his last words to the mage: "Fuck off and die." Twas scarcely a phrase Robin Hood might speak.

"Gary?" I asked softly, tentatively. But the bird beside me didst not respond. "Robin?"

"Yes, love?"

"Thankee for returning."

He leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek — quite literally. "What else couldst I do? Twas my Lady in the hands of that villain! So once more I rode in to rescue ye, the fine damsel in distress. Though tis a strange steed I rode in on!"

I blew him a raspberry. My mouth was well suited to them now, it seemed.

So. If twas a touch a Gary that hath emerged, twas only a touch. I shouldst have to wait and see what became of it, if anything at all did.

For some unknowable length of time I watched the lights of the city outside as we passed them by. For this time I felt no need to close mine eyes in fear of the remarkable speed. Perhaps the semidarkness quelled such worries. Or mayhap twas something else...

I had noticed an odd thing, now that the tumult was past. I still loved my Robin, and indeed found the thought of living without him painful to contemplate. Yet I couldst also recall being horrified to find myself in his embrace. Indeed, I couldst still remember all of my life ere Xanadu, and whilst it doth seem a strange life I knew it to be the true one I hath lived to that day. But I still most certainly was Maid Marian, ward of King Richard and future wife of the rogue, Robin Hood. It occurred to me that mine two selves somehow merged, melting together into a whole greater than the parts. It made the world new, yet familiar, as if I had by chance met a friend not seen in years. I thought it likely now that whilst I might still be surprised and awed by the things to be found on our future journeys, I wouldst never be shocked by them — no moreso, at least, than any other mortal wouldst be.

"Dost thou have a destination?" I asked at last.

"Nay, unless thou hast one to suggest. But my only thought hast been to put as much road between us and that thing as I am able ere we rest."

"Aim north, then." I got as comfortable as I was able, given the awful seat, and prepared myself for a long ride.

A strange sputtering jerked me awake from a sleep I hadn't realized I had begun. But I found myself curled against my mate, and straightened as the car began to move in fits and starts. "What's happening?" I asked sleepily.

"I know not. The car just started acting strangely. Forgive me for letting it wake thee."

"Of course thou art forgiven, love." I ran my fingers' hooflets through his plumage as I considered. "Steer it over to the side before another car hits us. How long hath I slept?"

Robin dutifully pulled to the shoulder just as the car gave one last gasp and died. "Merely an hour, perhaps more."

Verily it felt like it. Mine head was foggy and slow. It was a testament to how badly the day had worn on me that it was only after we had come to a complete halt that I thought to inquire regarding its fuel. To which Robin replied, "Fuel?"

This explained much.

"I had best explain as we walk," I told him.

Robin cocked his head. "Why not here? Tis as good a place as any to rest the night."

"Methinks thou still doth not realize how this land works, my love. Nay, do not be offended! I mean no slight! But this country, whilst strange to us both — and us both strange to it, ha! — doth be somehow less strange to me. I tell you of a certainty that shouldst we remain with the car here overlong that we will be found. If not that 'Kestagian Mage,' then by the sheriff or his men!"

Robin agitatedly ruffled is feathers. "Lawks! Doth he be everywhere?"

"In a way... come, love, let us not tarry. We canst still use our feet and hooves, each in turn, and mayhap find an inn. And along the way I canst tell thee a touch more about America, and a wonderful, terrible device called a gun."

The walk was not long in distance, but we took it slowly. Robin surprised me by accepting, in abstract at least, the police as a force for common good instead of a tool to oppress the masses. "There are good and evil men on this Earth," he said, "and just as some of the evil wilst gain power, so too wilst some good." He didst agree, then, the he would refrain from attempting to slay officers on sight in a kind of proactive self-defense. I felt this was likely to be the best I wouldst get from him, for the moment, and moved on.

Of the concept of guns he was much more skeptical. That someone couldst build something belike to a crossbow that shoots only the arrow's head at a speed capable of knocking a grown man off his feet, and still have the device fit inside his purse — twas ridiculous! Rifles he couldst believe in, if barely, but for all else he thought me to be jumping at shadows, and declared he wouldst need to see them ere he grew wary.

By then we had exited the highway and were walking city streets. I didst my best to ignore the rude stares of those passing us by in cars. Twas not easy, for I felt nearly naked, walking about in little more than my shift. Luckily, there was a refuge of sorts not far from the highway, a bright sign proclaiming "Denny's" for all to see. "That looks not like an inn," Robin commented when I headed for the entrance.

"True enow," I replied. "But tis likely they can direct us to one, and give us refreshment in the bargain."

"Refreshment! Thou art hungry again so soon?"

"Thou dost know horses," I said gaily at the door. "Always grazing!"

Inside, twas bright and cheery, though the odors that assaulted my muzzle were nothing I'd ever enjoy. The hostess at the counter looked up from her book with a smile that quickly faded as she beheld us. "Not more of them!" Twas clearly meant to be a mutter, but mine ears heard her clearly.

"Good eve, dear lady," Robin said charmingly. Either he hadn't heard her comment or he was ignoring it. "We wouldst enjoy a meal here, if thou canst offer one. And if ye perchance hath directions to an inn then we wouldst be much obliged to thee."

The young woman's face was blank for a few seconds as she puzzled through the speech. "There's a motel maybe four blocks that way," she said at last, pointing hopefully. "It's a Best Western, you can't miss it."

"Doth this 'Best Western' be an inn, then? I am unfamiliar with motels."

"Uh... yeah."

"Excellent! We shalt eat and be on our way, then."

The woman didst not bother hiding her grimace. She led us to a nearly deserted corner of the restaurant before removing herself. The only other patrons in the area were a deer and a white rabbit quietly sharing a table. They perked up noticeably when they spied our entry. With only the quickest of glances at each other they both waved for us to join them.

Robin smiled and strode immediately to their side. I was a touch more reluctant to dine with complete strangers, e'en ones that couldst well have sprung direct from Sherwood Forest itself. But the decision had been made, and I joined my love at their table.

We all took a few moments to check each other out. The rabbit was pure white and about the size of a child. His bright blue eyes stared at me inquisitively, and his hands looked oddly deformed, though I couldst not see them clearly enough to determine how. He wore no clothing. His companion, the deer, was man-sized, with an enormous ten-pointed set of antlers atop his brow that must make dwellings feel cramped. His ears were in constant motion, turning towards the slightest sound. I noticed that his hands were not unlike mine, with four digits bestowed with tiny hooflets on their ends. At first it seemed he, too, was unclothed, but after a moment I noticed he wore a pair of short brown pants that almost perfectly blended with his fur. The cream-colored fur on his chest, however, was uncovered.

"Hey there," said the deer in a soft voice by way of greeting, as I sat down slowly, mindful of my tail.

"Ah... hey," Robin returned uncertainly. I merely nodded my head to them.

"Hiya," the rabbit said. "I'm Phil, and this here's Jon."

"''Buck,''" his companion corrected him. "Given how things are, I might as well get used to that name."

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Good eve. I am Robin Hood, and this is Maid Marian."

The table was engulfed in silence. Finally Buck said, "Well, ''somebody'' had a sense of humor."

The waitress arrived then, a large woman who approached cautiously and stood an extra pace away from the table as we ordered food. Phil and Buck already had theirs before them, large salads each, and I asked one for myself. On the woman's recommendation Robin decided to try the french toast. "Tis just like the French scoundrels to claim the dish for their own, I daresay," he told her.

After she left, Phil enthused, "Sure is nice to see others affected by Xanadu's curse."

"Curse?" Robin asked.

"And why is that?" I said at the same time.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before. Everyone's afraid of us. Think we'll show some inhuman ability or instinct or power and ruin the place. Or maybe just infect them."

Buck added, "I hear there's honest-to-God werewolves roaming Florida, now." His eyes darted about briefly as if he expected one to appear.

Phil nodded. "Yeah, that sort of thing. So they shove us in this corner so we're out of the way, even though we're not like that. Even if we were, though, I for one sure don't see what people wouldn't want to become wererabbits!" He wiggled his long ears humorously for emphasis.

Robin trilled, and I giggled girlishly at his antics. "I didst think twas for privacy," I said.

"Yep. Theirs," the rabbit said. "They don't know how to deal with us, so they keep us out of sight and hope we'll go away. This place might not even have seated us if they didn't have a twenty-four-year-old managing it. Even I was able to intimidate him, and I'm a bunny!"

At this we all laughed. When it died away, Buck asked, "Do you know anything, then, about what the heck happened at Xanadu?"

I shook my head no. Robin said, "Only that there was a great riot. Dost thou have news to tell?"

Now twas Phil's turn to shake his head. "We just know what everyone else knows: everyone who was wearing a costume turned into what they went as. Complete with all the powers and abilities that go with it — I saw two superheroes just fly off, and I bet you can shoot an arrow like nobody else, Robin."

We both nodded thoughtfully. "Doth this be the curse that thou mentioned, then?" my mate asked.

"Tis. I mean, it is."

"And some people didst lose all sense of who they art," I said, trying hard not to look at the bird at my side. Phil blinked once, clearly surprised. Twas only then that I realized that he, like Scott, hath believed 'til then that my old knowledge was gone, and that we both entirely thought of ourselves as Robin Hood and Maid Marian. I suppose tis understandable, with our speech, to assume tis that way for us both. Such preconceptions might even come in useful, shouldst our enemy fall victim to them.

"Well, yeah," Phil managed after a few seconds. "I heard on the radio that how bad it is seems to depend on how well-defined the costume was as a character, and maybe how well it was played."

That made a great deal of sense. Robin Hood hath a great deal to build on, from films and books and lore. An archer unsurpassed and good with sword as well, he was witty, clever, friend to the oppressed and enemy of oppressors and lover to Maid Marian. Tis inevitable that a man taking that role at Xanadu wouldst entirely lose his old self.

And what of Maid Marian? Mine only thoughts to her character when I built the costume were that she wouldst be noble-born and in love with Robin, supporting him as best she were able. Such a relatively sparse description couldst well be why I had so much of mine old self left, even if twere more as just memories and less as thoughts and deeds.

"That's likely why you speak so... well, wrong," Buck said thoughtfully.

I looked at him hard. "Wrong? Tis Olde English, is all!"

But he shook his head. "Not really. I'm no history major — well, okay, I am, but it's for the wrong era to know what real Olde English is. But I know what you're speaking isn't it."

"Most likely," Phil chimed in, "you're speaking how the pre-curse you thought Olde English sounded. It's just another aspect of the mental change. It's not proper speech because you didn't truly think of your character speaking properly."

I considered. "That makes sense enough, I suppose. And what of you both? It doth not seem to have turned out too poorly for you."

Buck snorted in amusement, letting out a deerlike bleat. "That's only because you met us in a quiet, unpopulated area. Put either of us in a noisy crowd and I swear we'd have nervous breakdowns inside twenty minutes. Though I suppose if you meant physically we could have come out of it worse."

"Speak for yourself," Phil grumbled. "At least you have ''hands.'' All I have are these things." He held up his hands, and I couldst see them clearly for the first time. For they were not hands in truth but paws, if a bit more mobile that those on a real rabbit. His fingers hath all been drastically shortened, and the even coating of white fur made them seem to be covered by slick mittens. His fork was wedged between two fingers, mayhap the only way he couldst hold it. "It's going to be nearly impossible to do anything, now."

"It's your own fault for making the gloves like that," Buck pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. But what's fun for a few hours isn't always all that great when you have to live with it for the rest of your life."

I couldst certainly agree with him, there!

Robin spoke now, the first utterance in some while. "My Lady, I hath been considering. Much now makes sense that little didst ere this. But I dost thinketh we art bespelled."

I doth not be certain what mine expression was on hearing those words. Wide-eyed? Open-mouthed? But tis certain that I was shocked to the core. I hath all this day been wondering at the manner to best tell him that truth, and then he doth realize it for himself!

"I understand, now, why you called me by an untrue name. Yea, and friend Scott as well. The strange questions thou both put to me... Didst thou thinketh I wouldst forget? But now tis a weight off my mind, for I see at last the method behind thine seeming madness."

"Thou art not upset?" I asked warily. "That I didst not tell thee? Nor that you are not..."

"Myself? Nay, I am still mine own self!" His laugh echoed throughout the room. "What I was before matters little. And whether I be a day old or a century, I am still Robin Hood!"

The twas much as he had described, a great weight gone from mine mind. Twas wrong of me, not to have faith in my lover. Twould be much unlike my Robin to become morose at misfortune — especially when tis not his misfortune.

"You remember your old self now?" Phil asked.

"Not a whit!" Robin said cheerfully. "And whilst some shalt surely mourn the passing of friend Gary, I shalt miss him not at all."

Buck's ears twitched. "Yet you remember your old name."

"Tis only because others hath mentioned it to me." Robin waved his wing dismissively before turning abruptly to me. "But come, my dear Lady. Thou art at an advantage, I now realize. For thou knoweth mine previous name, and I reckon some of mine previous life as well. Yet I know naught of thine."

I squirmed uncomfortably. I couldst not bear the thought of his knowing that I was male only yesterday. Though judging by his reactions of a moment ago he couldst well just shrug off the news, twould be ''me'' who still must tell it — and before near-strangers, yet! I couldst feel myself blushing beneath my fur, mine ears growing pink at the very thought.

"Though I still retain many memories of myself ere Xanadu," I began, carefully choosing mine words, "methinks twould be best if thou simply calleth me Marian. For that is whose body I clearly wear now, and tis by that name that I think of myself."

"Aah, a secret, is it?" Robin crowed. "Well, tis mine calling to pry out secrets. I shalt make guesses, then. Let me see... a beauty like thine own wouldst have a beautiful name. Marian doth be the most beautiful, of course, but there are others. Gwennyth? Meridith?"

Mine ears positively glowed now, as I realized that he wouldst guess all women's names. That he wouldst never guess rightly wouldst save me from some embarrassment, but only at the cost of embarrassment of a different sort — a lonelier sort, for if no other felt either side of it then I must perforce be the only one who felt both sides at once.

Twas then that our food arrived at last, saving me from enduring more of Robin's guesswork. For a time conversation ceased as we enjoyed our meals. The food was not the freshest I've had, but twas tasty enough. Robin was quite pleased with his own, proclaiming that the French hath for once done something better than any Englishman ever had. Our friends had little left on their plates by then, but they took the opportunity to eat what was there. Phil had trouble with his fork, to no-one's surprise, and punctuated each time it slipped his grasp with mutters that we were all too polite to call him on for content.

"It's a good thing we're all herbivores here," Buck said. "I'm not sure what my reaction would be to eating with a wolf or a lion or something across the table. Too afraid of being the meal, I think."

"Be not hasty with thy judgments," Robin advised around a beakful of bread. "We didst stay briefly with a friend at his house, and he hath become part tiger. Yet we didst not fear for our feathers."

"I daresay that wouldst depend on the person," I pointed out. "Some may well try to eat such as me and thee. Each shalt need to be approached cautiously until we doth be sure of their minds."

"Struth."

"Why didn't you stay with your friend?" Phil asked. "I'm sure staying there would be safer, at least for the next few days until things settle down."

"Or stabilize, anyway," Buck said.

"We were chased from his home. Though not by him!" I added hastily at the looks upon their faces.

At that Robin didst launch into a telling of our escape from Xanadu, the ride to Scott's house, and the battle with the Kestagian Mage. This last came complete with pantomimed throws and shakes at the appropriate times. My mate didst tell the tale ten times better, and with a hundred times the verve, than surely I wouldst have.

"Are you sure he said he was a ''Kestagian'' Mage?" Buck asked, leaning forward.

"So he claimeth."

"Doth this be important?" I asked. "Hath thee dealings with such ere now?"

"Not as such, no. There were no such things before today, remember." Robin and I both nodded understanding — though it seemed even I needed reminding now and again. "But I do know of them. I was an avid gamer before this all happened, after all. Still am, I guess."

I nodded thoughtfully, seeing where this was headed. But Robin cocked his head, puzzled. "What sorts of games didst thou play? And what hath this to do with our adversary?"

"Role-playing games," Buck said. "People generally sit around a table and play characters on a quest, and a lot of actions, like trying to hit someone with a sword, are determined by dice rolled and used against the statistics of the wielder and the target. It's pretty complicated, and fairly irrelevant except for one thing.

"You see, these things come with tons of pre-made monsters to fight against at the gamemaster's choosing. And I remember seeing a listing for a 'Kestagian Mage' in one of the books."

Now this was news! "You know, then, what they art! And how to defeat them!" I exclaimed, clapping mine hands merrily.

"No. They're monsters for ''Traps and Treasures''. It's a D&D competitor, but it's not very good. The formulas are badly flawed, making most things either too underpowered to be useful or so overpowered as to be ridiculous. I've stayed away from playing it. But I was browsing through one of its rulebooks some months back, and I remember seeing an entry for 'Kestagian Mage.'"

"Dost thou remember ''anything'' about them?" Robin pressed. "Any knowledge you giveth wouldst be more than we have now."

The deer thought for a few moments. "Well, they're undead, for one thing, D&D's equivalent of a lich. So fire might do some damage, though I doubt it'd kill one. I remember that they had different powers and weaknesses than liches, too, but not what they are."

So. We didst know a bit more, then, of the one that pursueth us. Mayhap we had a weapon, mayhap not. But knowing it didst come from a game told me how best to proceed. On the morrow, however. Twas far too late now.

"Thankee for thine help," I said to them.

"No problem," Buck replied dismissively. "I didn't help all that much, after all."

"Nay, thou has aided us greatly," said Robin, "and provided fine company besides. Truly doth I call thee friends."

"Well, thanks. Ah, here's the check," Phil said, and paused. "Um, do you have the money to pay for this?"

"Of course," I said, and took a few silver pennies from mine purse. "This, methinks, shouldst suffice for such a meal as that."

"And a bit more, I'd say," Phil said slowly, eyeing the coins. "But most places don't take silver. That is real silver, right?"

"Of course."

"Right. I think I'd better pay for this one."

It hurt mightily to have our meals bought for us as if we were paupers. Still, I didst understand the need, though I didst give him the coins in exchange. In turn, he didst allow us to sleep in his trailer for the night, rather than seeking out an inn. Twas a grand gesture, as he wouldst of a certainty have been caught up in things had the evil mage tracked us down once more. Thus I didst give him a full gold shilling, for I judged the risk didst not be small.

His trailer was in the parking lot, the size of a small peasant's hut. Twas towed by a car much like Sam's, but newer. "Buck and I got together at my place in Tennessee a week ago," Phil explained, "and drove down here for the con. Now I hope to get far enough north that we'll be out of any large-scale quarantine that the feds might try to set up."

Twas a bit cramped inside at first, for it had only been built to sleep two. Phil graciously gave us the beds, taking the car's seat for himself since he was so much smaller. Buck was relegated to a handful of blankets in its cargo bed.

The next morning we ate at Denny's once more, for if the staff was less than congenial at least we were assured service. We didst not desire wasting time in searching about for a place that might do us better. The only difference from our orders of last night was that I joined my mate in having french toast. Horses eat grains, I reasoned, and breads art grains. Thus I thought the choice safe, and was indeed proved right. Twas a nice change from greens.

After we broke our fast we gathered at Phil's car to journey. In truth Robin and I rode in the trailer. We drove but a short distance before halting briefly, and then we were off once more. But again the trip was short, at least as measured in time, before we stopped. This time Phil and Buck entered the trailer with us.

"Well, here I think we part ways," Phil said. "You told us you needed to find a few things, so I'll let you off here. And until you get some of those coins exchanged for cash... well, this should tide you over for a few days." He pressed a handful of bills into Robin's wing.

"My thanks to ye, good sir," Robin said, and bowed. "Ye hath been the very essence of hospitality. But this is overmuch! Tis we who give out money to those in need!"

They laughed. "True enough," Phil said, and Buck nodded his agreement. "But Lady Marian, here, already gave me more in gold and silver than I just gave you. Keep that in mind, by the way; a few of these coins should last you a week or more. Don't waste 'em on trivial crap."

"Language, good sir! There doth be a Lady present."

"Ah. Yes. And to her I offer my apologies."

"Fret not. I hath no doubts that I shalt hear far worse in my life," I said. Then, "But why dost thou leaveth us? Art thou so eager to part ways?"

Buck shook his head emphatically. "No, it's got nothing to do with you, except maybe indirectly. As he said, you need a few things, so we're dropping you off here. But there's no way we're going in. Way, way too many people."

"I also still want to get ahead of any quarantine," Phil added, ears twitching anxiously. "I didn't hear of any on the radio — except for the convention center itself, that is — and it'd be kind of late to set one up now, but who knows? Nobody ever said the feds were smart."

When we stepped outside, we didst find ourselves in a truly enormous field of cars, set before a windowless building the size of a palace. I giggled. "Verily this doth be the perfect place to set us," I told them. "We shalt find all we need here." We said our fare-thee-wells and watched them drive off, and then made our way to the entrance of the mall.

Inside was a wonder, though moreso to Robin than mine own self. He stood a while gaping at the marvelous place even as people gaped at us. "Gawk later, love," I told him. "We shalt have time after our chores are over. How much money didst friend Phil give unto us?"

"This much," he said, handing over the bundle of folded paper.

All told, twas a full thousand dollars between mine hooflets. I wondered briefly if the rabbit had truly given us less than he gained, but I had been not exact regarding exchange rates e'en before this change, and with Marian's knowledge and memories blurring mine own twas impossible to say. Besides, they hath already gone, so twas little use worrying over the fairness of the exchange.

Still, I knew that this was no small sum. Twould surely tide us over for a week or two, or even three were we careful. I placed it all in my purse; Robin was a good man, and a wonder for gaining cash, but generally helpless when it came to holding onto it.

I still was displeased at the loss of my dress and having to walk about, I felt, barely clothed. Thus our first chores was to find me a new dress. And chore it was. The propetiers were little help. Those that didn't shy away from our approach couldst only show what they had, and what they had wouldst show more fur than cloth, as often as not. Not that Robin wouldst mind me trying one of them!

After a long search I relented, and tried one of the garments. The woman aiding me seemed to think it too dowdy, but at least it covered a decent amount of flesh. Much to my surprise — and Robin's, and most notably the merchant's! — upon fastening the last button the cloth seemed to melt and run along mine body. Its color changed from a brown that matched my fur to a light blue, with frills and lace. I couldst feel another layer of skirts unfurling about my legs, until in the end I wore a gown fitting for one of my station and a beautiful style that I much enjoyed.

A few trials proved that anything I wore wouldst behave in this way, though each dress changed in a different manner. Though Robin was sore disappointed at the loss of seeing me in modern garb, I was well pleased, for I thus wouldst not require custom tailoring in order to own suitable clothes. And since the dresses reverted upon removal, they were much simpler to store and lighter to carry.

The next task was to find Robin a new bow. After a few inquiries we found there was a good-sized sporting goods store in the mall. And amongst all the various balls and shirts and jackets was a wall full of equipment for hunting. Decoys, scents, camouflage, bullets and bows. Verily, quite a few bows.

"Hath thee any guns?" Robin asked the young lad behind the counter.

"Um... uh, no. No," he stammered. The boy looked like he hath been struck on the head, the way he looked at us was so peculiar. "We got ammo, but the chain won't let us sell the actual weapons inside a mall." He scratched his head in thought, looking so comically puzzled that I couldst not restrain the giggles that escaped mine lips. "What do you want with a gun, anyway? Robin Hood used... whatchamacallem... arrows."

"Indeed so! But... ah, well. Another time, perchance." Robin shrugged. "Since I am an archer, I doth require a bow. Bring out your finest, so that I might try a wing on it."

"Uh... wing. Right." In short order the lad — his name, according to the tag on his breast, was Howard, and he fit the name — set down two bows on the counter before us. One was of the familiar double-curved sort, though made of hard plastic instead of good English yew. The other was some contraption that didst seems more pulleys than bow.

"And what is that, then?" Robin cried. He picked it up and turned it about in his hands to marvel at.

"Um, it's called a, a compound bow."

"It doth look more belike to a ship's rigging than a weapon!"

"I think thou hath hit on it, love," I said. "Tis likely that is how twas devised."

Robin was shown how to change the tension on the bowstring. He immediately tested his might against the full strength of the draw, and found it to be to his satisfaction. Twas a great improvement over the old type he hath been used to, he declared. And when he learned it fired with strength greater than it drew, his mind was set. He wouldst never willingly use regular bows again.

We bought the compound bow, after some time testing to see if this one was indeed the best of the lot. We also didst buy some dozens of arrows. They were made of metal, which we thought odd. ("Wooden arrows sometimes shatter when shot from a compound bow, sometimes even in the air. They're just too weak to take the bow's power," Howard told us, which impressed us both all over again.) And lastly, we bought the tools and waxes and glues necessary to properly maintain the weapon, along with a variety of arrowheads. They were perforce necessary, but strangely not sold with the arrows.

Between Robin's purchases and mine own, we had used up over half of Phil's largesse. But there was still one more place of import, one more visit to make ere we could rest and eat our midday meal.

"This is a place of mystic research?" Robin asked doubtfully as he took in the mess. Thin rectangular boxes were stacked everywhere, interspersed liberally with puzzles and more esoteric items. "The clutter doth seem aright for a wizard's den, but the things look not mystical to mine eyes."

"Still, tis the place."

"Oh, my God! Awesome!" This from the person behind the counter. Short and thin, he was even younger than was Howard; I doubted a razor hath touched his chin more than a dozen times. "I'd heard about that convention yesterday, I wish I'd gone! I had the greatest costume for Halloween, too..."

"After all the worried, frightened looks we had gotten since yesterday, the boy's sheer envy was a welcome relief. Still, we had wandered long, and were weary. Twas a poor state in which to properly receive a fan.

Thankee. Truly, thankee," I said with a curtsey. "But we hath need of thine assistance."

"Really? Oh, God. This is so cool!" he gushed. "Oh, I'm Max. Pleased to meetcha! Welcome to The Gamesman!"

"Thankee. I -"

"So whacha need help with? An RPG, right? You guys became characters from a game! That's so cool! What system?"

"Uh..." I faltered to a halt. Max's enthusiasm was becoming overwhelming.

"'Traps and Treasures,'" Robin supplied.

"Yes. Thankee, love."

Max's face screwed up like he had bitten into a beef pie and found it filled with offal. "Why would you use ''that'' system? It's a piece of shit!"

Robin's voice was dangerously low when he said, "Watch thy tongue, child, lest I cut it off. Tis a Lady ye speak to!"

Max blanched when he realized Robin's eyes were hard and one wing rested on the knife at his side. "Uh, s-sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean... uh, this way!"

"Many thanks."

We found but three books under the 'Traps and Treasures' title, and one was a duplicate of another. Max didst apologize profusely for the lack of choice, telling us at length how the store was phasing out the system from its shelves. He acted as if afraid we wouldst grow offended at him for it. Twas a pitiful sight, like a puppy kicked and now afraid even as it was still eager to please.

We were well pleased to buy the two books and be away from him.

Lunch was a noisy affair, loud enough that my ears were laid flat as we ate. Robin had a beef burrito, whereas I needs must satisfy myself with one filled merely with beans and rice. I was unsure if horses ate such fare, and thus it was something of an experiment. So far it was turning out well enough. I was glad that vegetarian dishes hath become increasingly popular over the last few years, making the available dishes tolerably broad.

I watched him eat his food with envy, despite the disgustingly meaty odors wafting from his side of the table. Twas most unfair. Twas my idea, my work, my costumes, yet twas he who hath all the gains. Wit, skill with many weapons, and he couldst even fly, or at least glide for a bit. And what hath I? A major dietary restriction, hooves, and a dress. True, like my love Robin I had gained some skills, but embroidery was useless, as was the ability to efficiently run a castle staff (unless I didst somehow become manager of a large hotel, I reckoned). That I had a shapely body and had retained my own mind to some degree seemed little comfort.

All the walking about the mall's hard floors had made mine hooves sore. I sighed and rubbed my aching fetlocks, and tried hard to ignore the stares of fascinated and curious shoppers so I couldst concentrate on the books.

That was another good thing — though in reality it shouldst be considered the lack of a bad thing. I couldst still read. Robin, it turned out, couldst not.

Twas therefore up to me to pore over the volumes in search of information that might prove useful. The task was not quick, even once I found the area pertaining to Kestagian Mages, for what I needed was inconveniently spread out amongst multiple chapters.

"Listen to this," I told him, interrupting his inspection of the silk plant next to our table. "A Kestagian Mage is an evil wizard that doth be powerful enough to place his soul in a container for safekeeping. No reason doth be given for why it must be an evil mage, I shouldst add. At any rate, this maketh him effectively immortal. Ye canst do anything thy wish to him, but his essence will remain, and it casnt cast healing spells on whatever doth be left of his body, even were it merely ash."

"So it doth be unstoppable."

"Nay. Remember this doth be a game, and tis a poor game that doth not ever let the player win."

"I knoweth some games like that. And by all reports, this doth be a poor game."

I giggled. "Verily, verily. Thou shouldst see what such artifacts as the Rock of Rama-Lama or the Sceptre of Sidhe-Baup canst do! But tis not the case this time, or not in that way. The creature's weakness is his Aelpa. Which is what it thought you had, and I daresay it may be correct."

Robin cocked his head. "Oh?"

"Tis what the game hath named the vessel for the thing's soul. Tis always a diamond, and a mage who has a Kestagian's Aelpa canst do certain things to or with the creature. Cast spells through him like an artifact, using the Kestagian's magic rather than his own. Control him, bind him, or of course destroy him."

Robin's eyes turned thoughtful. "I canst see why our little friend wouldst be so eager to regain it, then. Let us see what I hath in the way of diamonds."

For one terrible moment, as Robin reached for the bag full of gems and jewelry at his side, I didst imagine he was going to simply dump the contents out on the table. But all he didst was to open the drawstring and poke through it with one wing, much like a child examining his marbles. Every now and again he wouldst snatch something from within, but it remained discretely in his palm.

At the end of it, twas a total of seven gems deposited on the tray. The smallest was a circle perhaps a quarter of an inch across; the largest was shaped like an elongated teardrop, and was nearly two inches in length.

"So, then," Robin mused aloud, "all we must do is find the correct diamond amongst these and smash it, and he shalt be undone?" He fingered the largest. "Twould be a true shame, were this the one."

"Nay. It wouldst not be."

"What? But of course it wouldst! See here, tis a gem unsurpassed!"

"Ye misunderstand me. This," I said, tapping the pages with a hooflet, "says the gem cannot be destroyed by normal means. Tis only vulnerable to magic."

"Then we find a mage..."

I shook my head. "All those at Xanadu wouldst have scattered ere now, and I know not of others. Another way dost be to restrain the enemy, and then maketh him swallow it. With his soul within his body once more, he canst be killed by whatever means thou desire."

"Dost thou have any ideas how to restrain a mage who doth not will it?"

I paused for long moments, frowning. "Nay. The game doth assume there wouldst be a mage in the party."

"Methinks it a foolish assumption," Robin said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Doth there be anything else told about him, or his Aelpa?"

"Quite a bit," I said, and flipped to a new chapter. "The Aelpa does many things, but two of real interest to us. The first is that it allows him to effortlessly assume a disguise, usually that of a normal human. Methinks that is why we doth not remember him from Xanadu; he looked like any other person with a lot of jewelry. But the main tidbit wouldst be how it is tracked by its true owner."

"Ah!"

"Yea, verily tis how he didst find us. If we like, we canst simply discard the diamonds and be done with him." I didst not like the notion of leaving an evil mage free to wreck what havoc he willed, but I felt the option needs must be exposed.

Robin's beak somehow managed a frown. "Nay... I want him dealt with. I didst not much like how he treated thee."

"Agreed, on both counts," I said. "But there is one very interesting thing to note, regarding the tracking. To wit, his accuracy in knowing his Aelpa's location doth be of ''inverse'' proportion to its distance from him!"

"I doth not be sure I understand thee..."

"I meaneth that when he is ten miles away from it, he canst pin its location down to the inch, for whatever good it does. He canst point straight at it," I said, and demonstrated. "At a mile, he knoweth where it is to within a foot. But at a thousand feet he canst only tell that it is somewhere in a ten-foot cube — and he canst not be certain it doth be at the center, either. And when he doth get to within a hundred feet of it -" and now I smiled "- he canst only tell that he is within a hundred feet. Beyond that he simply canst not get a better fix."

Robin thought on that for a few moment. "He still canst find it by traversing the boundary at a hundred feet," he mused. "He couldst find the center that way."

"True enough. I suspect that most of the people running this game assumeth it to be a gradual decrease in accuracy, with these measurements as milestones of sorts. But that doth not be how tis written, and I am unsure how the curse would translate it. But e'en if it shouldst be a sharp jump like thou noticed, our opponent must think of the tactic before he canst use it, and I hath not been too impressed by his cleverness yet."

"Nor I, now that ye mention it."

"Exactly. And thus I think I have a plan for how to handle this."

Robin sat up straighter in his chair and sent a sharp look my way. "''Thou'' hath a plan for battle? A woman?"

I blew him another raspberry. "Thou hath no cause to look so surprised, dear! I doth not be just some pretty mare to hang off your arm and embroider thine shirts for thee!"

"My apologies, dear Lady." Robin actually stood and bowed to me. "I didst not mean to mock. What, then, is thy plan?"

It didst not take long to tell, for twas quite simple. Robin pointed out a few flaws, made a few suggestions, and asked no small number of questions. But there was little preparation needed. We had only to wait.

That night, as the mall was near to closing, we casually strolled into one of the department stores and headed towards the rear. Twas there that the bathrooms were, but we didst avoid them for the same reason we avoided the changing rooms scattered about the store: workers were savvy enough by now to check those after hours. Instead we went to one of the janitor's closets. Robin picked the lock with some hairpins we'd bought earlier, and we slipped inside unnoticed. Other than a quick check to confirm that it didst not lock on the inside, our task was simply to keep silent and wait once more.

Twas very dark in there, and I actually dozed for some time. I was awakened by a feathery nudge. "They hath been gone for nearly an hour," he whispered. "I thinketh that be long enough."

I nodded, then remembered that birds hath poor night vision. He couldst not possibly see me. "We art lucky the mage hath waited this long. We shouldst hurry, now."

Without another word Robin cracked open the door to peer outside. It must have met his satisfaction, for the rest of him followed a moment later. By the time I blinked my eyes into adjusting themselves to the greater light — twas dim, but far brighter than the closet — Robin had already crossed the hall and was picking the yet another lock with a remarkable skill and silence.

I said a silent prayer to the Lord that the hinges wouldst not squeak as they moved.

They didst not. Robin entered the room beyond silently and unobserved whilst I stayed motionless outside, lest the clops of mine hooves give the game away. There was a cry from within, then a soft thump. My heart raced, hoping... and then Robin poked his beak back into the hallway. "Tis clear, now."

I entered, and took in the sight. A young woman in a security guard's uniform lay sprawled on the floor. Above her was a bank of monitors, numbering half a dozen. Notebook full of paperwork lined the shelves along one wall.

"Surely thou hath not..." I gestured at the woman.

Robin shook his head. "She merely sleeps, though her head shalt ache terribly on the waking."

I released a breath I didst not realize I held. What we had already done was bad enough, but killing her wouldst have made our future very tenuous indeed. "Tie her and gag her, then, whilst I search for the proper notebook."

There was no rope in the security center, of course, so he resorted to tying her hands with a power cord cut from a radio. Before he dragged her off to confine her in the same closet we'd just left, I made sure to take the nametag from her lapel. I wouldst need it soon.

Finally I didst find the correct page of the correct notebook. "Say nothing," I reminded Robin. He nodded, and I took a deep breath. This wouldst be the most difficult part of the night, other than the battle itself. If I made an error here, things wouldst likely turn out very poorly indeed — and an error was more likely than not.

I read the numbers from the page one more time, memorizing them. Then I reached for the phone and dialed.

"AmerAlarm," the woman on the other end said pleasantly. "This is Michelle Young. How can we help you?"

"Hey, hi Michelle. This is account 15539-2377. Could you put all the alarms and alerts on hold, please?" I concentrated furiously on the words as I spoke them. Twas a major effort to speak this way, without any Olde English at all seeping into mine speech.

"Certainly, ma'am. Do you have the pass code there with you?"

"That I do. It's, ah, 612934."

"Thank you," Michelle replied. "And how long do you want this to go for?"

"Until 0800," I said, making sure to use modern military time. I couldst feel sweat on my brow at the effort of saying things correctly. "We're going to be running some tests all night."

"All right, you're all set. And what is your name, please?"

"Sandy. Sandy Middleton," I told her, reading from the nametag.

"Got it. The police will not be called in on any alarms or alerts until eight o'clock tomorrow. Thank you for calling AmerAlarm, Miss Middleton!"

"Thanks a lot. Later!" I hung up the phone and dropped heavily into the chair. (Thankfully, there was an actual opening that didst fit my tail well.) Twas done! All those years of watching cop shows had just paid off. I wiped the sweat off and smiled reassuringly at my mate.

"I am most glad twas thee who made the call," he said gravely. "I could never have spoken as thou just hast."

I nodded wearily. We were lucky the guard had been a woman and we both knew it — even if it had pained Robin to strike her down from behind. And it had, I knew.

Once I had collected myself we left the room. I had to step over the broken broomhandle Robin had wedged beneath the closet's doorjamb on the way out to the store proper, but otherwise paid it no mind.

The sound of my hooves against the tile floor was eerie in the silence. The store was nearly all dark, with only patches of light at the exits and a few places within. It lent the place a downright spooky air. I hoped twould not be a long wait. I had waited enough that day, and was tired of it.

Thankfully, the department I was to wait in was well lit. It made sense enough — the jewelry section hath perhaps the highest-priced items in the store. And twould do well for the plan, as well. What it wouldst do for me was another matter.

We didst not bother to pick any locks, this time. We simply smashed the glass cases open. Somewhere, most probably back in the security room, alarms began to sound, but we ignored them. Twas a wondrously seductive feeling, to wreck such damage with neither restraint nor worry of interruption.

But twas not without purpose. The cases needed to be open for my plan to work, and the diamonds on display wouldst be difficult to find amongst all the broken glass. To make it harder yet we removed the dark felt trays at the cases' bottoms. We didst not take any jewelry, however, and it had not been easy at all to convince Robin of ''that'' aspect, for certain!

That done, twas nothing left to do. I kissed Robin's cheek once for luck, then he jogged away to take his position.

I may have been — I ''was'' — tired of waiting, but that didst not mean I was done with it. For a long time I simply stood there, or paced. Twas no small risk for me to be standing there in that pool of light like a worm on a hook.

For twas exactly the role I filed: bait. With me here, amongst the ruined cases, the mage wouldst have little choice but to believe we had hidden his Aelpa in amongst the more common diamonds. A purloined letter, of sorts. And thus he wouldst be forced to search the wreckage for it, leaving himself open for Robin to play ''his'' role.

We couldst only hope I was not killed before he could.

And so I stood, and paced, and worried. Mine thoughts and fears ran wild. Wouldst he come? Wouldst we know it? Or doth he have some magical means of arrival we wouldst never detect? Couldst we even defeat him, or was this a futile effort?

When doth the guard's relief show up?

My eyes widened as I realized I had failed to consider it. But the shifts were likely a mere eight hours, and the logical time for a changeover wouldst thus be midnight, not eight o'clock.

Desperately I wheeled about, searching for a clock. But there was none. No doubt there were some in with the electronics, but in here there were only... I fair to leapt at a case and rooted through the shards for a watch.

11:22

Two other watches confirmed the time. We wouldst have to leave immediately were we to avoid the police. I tossed them back in the case and turned to leave, mouth open to call out.

Twas at that moment that I heard a voice from the darkness, not twenty paces distant. "So ''there'' you are," it rasped, instantly setting my fur on end. "But where, oh where, is good Robin Hood, hmm?"

That question was the one thing we couldst not adequately hide or explain away. Twas our main weakness, and our one hope — that he wouldst be too concerned over recovering his Aelpa to ask it — had just failed. "He left," I said simply, and stepped to one side. I couldst barely see him in the gloom, but it was clear enough that he had, whether by luck or design, approached from exactly the opposite side from where Robin lay, putting me in the line of fire.

"Sir Robin ran away? Brave, ''brave,'' Sir Robin?" the Kestagian mocked, and stepped into the light. If anything, he looked worse than he had last night. His head looked soft, like the skull was still too badly broken to hold the correct shape. "Now why don't I believe that?"

He gestured suddenly, and I flung myself to the floor in a tangle of skirts as a bolt of lightning crackled by overhead. There was the crunching of glass under a booted heel as the mage jumped the cases to get at me again. "Robin!" I cried desperately as I scrambled to get up, or at least around a corner. Why hath he not fired?

The soft-edged whir of an arrow cutting through the air answered that. It hit the decaying mage with a meaty smack, embedding itself perfectly where the heart shouldst be. He staggered back, forced by the impact to steady himself against a case.

But he didst not fall. "''There'' you are, Robin!" he cried out almost joyfully. "I almost started to believe her!" His hand moved, and something I couldst not rightly see flew from him at my love. There was a squawk, and the mage trotted his way, leaving me on the floor.

"I was worried, oh yes I was," he enthused. I gathered my skirts and took the opportunity to get out of the maze of displays. "Worried I wouldn't be able to pay you back for last night. Wasn't nice, running me over like that! Now I have to kill you, you know. You do know that, right?"

I couldst hear Robin as he ran along the aisles. Why had the mage not fallen? I had managed to fashion a pouch for the diamonds and attach it behind the missile's broadhead tip. That shouldst have been the end of it! What went wrong?

There was another whir, another meaty impact. Again it was met with laughter, not anguish. There was a whoosh and a flash as the Kestagian tossed fire from his fingertips. "You never learn, do you? That whole ambush, just to futilely shoot me again! You're pathetic!"

More arrows, another fireball. But this time there was a cry of pain — from Robin. The mage was ''playing'' with him, enjoying drawing out the hunt because he hath proven himself invulnerable to anything we couldst throw at him. Robin was still running around the outer aisles; if he kept this up he wouldst make a complete circuit of the store.

I began to trot, myself, trying hard to get away and keep ahead of them. The sound of mine hooves gave me away, but twould be even worse were I caught in the midst of this battle with no viable weapon, and no available weapon wouldst suffice. The smooth tile was not the best for running on, especially in the state of near-panic that was growing within me. I fell to mine knees as I skidded around one corner.

I sobbed once as I got up. Twas such a ''good'' plan! It didst not deserve to fail! ''We'' didst not deserve it, didst not deserve to be toyed with and ''tortured'' by a sadist who is himself immune from harm! But deserving or no, twas happening.

Another slip, another skid, this one violent enough to knock mine muzzle against the floor. Twas well it did, for it didst also knock some sense back into my skull. I looked around. My flight had taken me to the department in which Robin had hid himself: men's shoes. I stifled a giggle at the incongruous thought that mayhap I shouldst try some on so I couldst run better.

Tis then I noticed the lump, nearly right in front of my nose.

I snatched it up instantly and bounded to my hooves. Twas no wonder Robin's shot failed! The enormous force of the compound bow had ripped the pouch away from the arrow when he released his shot. On another day it might have been humorous, like some cartoon, but tonight it just may spell our downfall. But if I couldst get the diamonds to Robin, perhaps we might still live to see the morrow.

Now I trotted through the store with a different purpose. But when I rounded the last corner, my hoped crashed. The Kestagian was no longer enjoying the chase; he was enjoying the ''catch.''

As last night, Robin was held suspended in midair, legs and wings spread wide. There didst not be any lightning running through his feathers, yet patches had been burned away during the chase, leaving ugly wounds on the flesh beneath. And even as I watched a number of feathers flew away from his body, seemingly of their own accord, trailing blood as they sailed off.

"Gonna pluck you, little chicken," the mage gloated, and Robin jerked as another handful was ripped bloodily away. "I'll rip you apart and serve you for dinner! Then I'll find my Aelpa and make glue out of your dear, ''sweet'' love!"

Robin's roar of anguish couldst not possibly be due merely to the painful loss of his plumage. I couldst see his muscles bunch as he tried to free himself from whatever force held him. But his captor only glanced his way and his limbs thrust themselves to full extension — and beyond. It didst look like wings and legs wouldst be flying away next, not merely handfuls of feathers, and a red haze clouded mine sight.

Mine jog turned into a run, a sprint. I cared not at all for the noise mine hooves made now as I bolted for them. The mage was still intent on the torture of Robin — of my love, my mate, my life! He didst not turn at the sound of mine approach, not until I was a bare handful of yards away.

Despite the surprise evident on his face he still managed to raise a hand in my direction. Twas not enough time to fire off whatever spell he had in mind, however, before I slammed into him, knocking him back with all the force and weight of a pony. The air whuffed from his lungs as he reeled on his feet, and mine fist shot out to punch him. The fist holding the diamonds.

Horses art not weak creatures, even when they walked on two legs rather than four. The hard hooflets that covered the last joint of each finger wouldst make for a debilitating blow to anyone, shouldst I ever put the full strength of mine arms behind them. Panicked by the pursuit and enraged over my lover's torture, twas devastating. Mine hand hit his chest and kept going through skin already weakened by rot and a multitude of arrows. His ribs crunched beneath my hooflets as I followed through.

The creature looked down at his chest, at mine arm plunging deep into it. Slowly he backed himself away, and my arm emerged from within with a sickening slurp. But I had released the pouch, and all the diamonds remained somewhere in his body.

The game book had said to return a Kestagian's soul to him by somehow making him swallow his Aelpa. But it had also stated that life wouldst return to the mage once it was "within his body." Now he screamed, wailing loudly as life returned to his body — the same body that had been shot a dozen times and sported a gaping hole in its chest. Blood poured from his wounds, thick and foul-smelling. He collapsed to his knees and clutched feebly at his chest, perhaps to remove the pouch. But twas thrust deep. He wailed one last time, eyes full of disbelief, and died in a growing pool of blood.

I stood for long seconds over the body. Gore matted my fur to the elbow and had spattered all over my brand new dress, but I had eyes only on the body before me. As hard as it may have been for him to believe his life was over, twas even harder for me to believe I had been the one to end it.

Then I didst remember Robin, and I rushed to his side. He looked unwell, indeed not much better than the Kestagian. Patches of feathers had been burnt or ripped away, and he moved stiffly as he regained his feet.

"Is it dead?" he asked, his words sounding strange because he didst not dare move even his beak overmuch.

"Tis," I said, and kissed him full on the mouth. Neither beaks nor muzzles were well designed for it, but I didst manage. "And we art not. We hath won, love!"

"Wonderful. You did wonderful, dear."

"I daresay. Tis good to see you play the role of damsel in distress for once!"

He tried to give me a raspberry this time, but beaks art not built for them like muzzles. He settled for rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, but I fear we must... must away from this place." Robin swayed on his feet momentarily. "I need a place to recover."

"Mayhap we canst find a friendly inn this night," I suggested.

"Good. Yes. Then we canst plot out... our future plans. What doth we do about all those poor you told me about. Those ones without homes to put their fridges in."

I let him lean on me as we made our way to the emergency exit where we had stored our day's purchases. "Dost thou really think thou canst help so many people? Tis a noble goal, but..."

"I know not! Tis why I must plan! But I shalt say this for certain," he said, and even wounded he managed to trill an enthusiastic laugh, "I doth be Robin Hood! If anybody canst help the poor, tis I!"

I giggled, and poked him in the ribs. "Do not forget his sidekick, lover, and wife!"

"Ack! Mercy, my Lady! Nay, I shalt never forget thee!"

I smiled. "Good."

We stepped outside together, in each other's arms, and left the wailing of alarms at our backs.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Transgender]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest}}

Where's the Beef?

2007-09-12T23:30:23Z

Xodiac:

==By Xodiac==

It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I work when I want to, not by any schedule.
Still, I thought, looking at the Elvis clock on the wall, it was about time.

I took a long breath, then opened the store. Someplace in some mall somewhere a vacant stall was being replaced with the distinct storefront of Spells 'R' Us.

It's not usually more than a few minutes before someone who fits all my requirements comes by, and today was no different. Not ten minutes after I moved the store a young man walked in. He looked like a football linebacker: tall and broad, with brown hair and blue eyes and pretty good looks. If he was the quarterback he'd have more women than he could handle. As it is he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting a date. Probably took them for granted.

Perfect.

I watched on the security monitor (a mundane one — why use magic for absolutely everything?) for a few minutes as he browsed. Sometimes I come out of the back nearly immediately, but I felt like playing with this one. What should I make of him, I wondered. A cheerleader in love with his current best friend? No, too cliche. A little girl too young for grade school, much less college? Hm, perhaps. Or what about an old woman? I haven't done that in a while.

In the end I decided to wait. Sometime things make what to do obvious, like two days ago when three seniors entered making nasty coments about Ricky Martin. The three freshman girls who left were much more appreciative. But here nothing was really suggesting itself here. Time to go up front.

As I emerged from the doorway I fingers in the subtle movement that would activate the Knowledge spell. Everything I needed to know flooded into my brain in an instant. "Hello, Robert. What can I do for you today?" The spell had told me that already, but it's not good to show too much knowledge you're not supposed to have too soon. It scares the customers away, and that's no fun.

"How did you know...?" the young man — he was indeed a linebacker — asked in the usual puzzled tone.

"I'm a wizard, of course." You'd think more people would recognize my robe for what it is. "You don't think a place like this would be run by anything less, do you?"

"Uh... right."

He thinks I'm crazy, or at least playing around. I decided it was time to blow his mind. A little earlier than usual, but what the heck. "So what do you need? A love potion to get that girl you want? Or, no, wait. You already have Alice." Robert's eyes went wide. "What about a present for her? Her birthday is coming up, I understand." His mouth opened in an O of surprise. "Or... wait, I have it. You need a costume!"

Robert's mouth dropped wide open. "But... but.. how did you know that?! I mean... how!"

I smiled, feeling a warm glow deep inside me. I live for that moment.
But it was time to back off a little; the bait was hooked, but he hasn't quite bitten yet and I could still scare off the fish if I wasn't careful.

"The party's not a new thing. Surely you don't think I know about it from other customers?" He was the first customer for this party, of course, but he'd never know that.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I need a costume for the frat party. But the other stores just have crap like pirates and rabbits and stuff. I was hoping for something more interesting, like a lizardman or something."

"Well, if you want interesting, you've certainly come to the right place. Let me go in back and see what I have in your size. Wait here."

I stepped back through the door. My office had been replaced with the enormous storeroom — the man who invented the Roaming Portal spell was a genius — and the costume section was nearby. Everything was nearby, really, including the costume I had in mind for him.

"Here you go," I said as I re-entered the shop. "I'm afraid this is all I had in your size. It's a minotaur costume."

"A minotaur, huh? That's a bull mixed with a human, right?" Robert asked asx he took the bundle from my arms and looked at the mask.

"Pretty much, although in this case it's a cow." I shrugged apologetically, feeling anything but.

Robert's shot his gaze around to me. "A cow?! I can't wear that!"

"Why not? Aren't there prizes for not being recognized? Heck, nobody would even suspect you in that thing! It molds to your body and your body to it; any misplaced bulk will be hidden perfectly. Not that I expect there to be much of that," I said, making sure he noticed me eying his body. I'd picked the costume partly because he was so big.
It was too appropriate to resist. "And like I said, it's the only one your size anyway."

That did it. "Okay, how much?"

"Thirty bucks per day."

"That's not cheap," he pointed out.

"It's a good costume. Besides, you only need it tonight."

"True enough." The linebacker pulled out his wallet and counted out thirty dollars. "Here you go. See you tomorrow."

"Just a moment," I called out as I put the money in the register — another mundane item, although there's a few anti-burglary additions I put on it. "There's a few things you need to know."

"What's that?" Robert looked at the door, anxious to get going.

"There's a few rules you need to know. First—"

"Rules? For a costume?" He looked at me like I was insane. "That's stupid."

"That's how it is, my boy," I scolded. "Now, don't rip, break, or otherwise damage the costume in any way. At all." Harder than it sounds, since the club that comes with that minotauress is pretty fragile. "Don't wear it past ten pm tonight, and bring it in before 10 am tomorrow." That would force him to leave the party ridiculously early, and I knew Robert was not a morning person. "You can't have any alcohol while in the costume or for the four hours afterwards." I rather doubted he'd be able to resist, at a frat party. "Don't stain it..." I continued like that for at least two minutes before letting him leave, costume in hand.

I let out a sharp bark of laughter as I returned to the office. Those rules were tedious and complicated. They're hard to pay attention to, much less follow appropriately. He'll be waking up tomorrow as a nice docile dairy cow named Bertha.

The next day I opened in the same mall. I wanted to see my handiwork.

"Hey, wizard! Here you go! Where are you?"

It was Robert! He wasn't a cow at all! I rushed out from the back.

"Oh, hi. What's wrong?" I realized I was staring at him as he set the costume on the counter.

"I, uh..." I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible! "Surprised to see you here, is all."

"Why? I needed to get this back before ten, you said. So here you go." He pushed the bundle at me.

Of course! That has to be it. "Did you even wear it?"

"Oh, sure. Wow, that thing is great. Really made me look like a minotaur woman. Felt like it, too. I even had to piss sitting down!"
Robert shook his head, grinning. "That was an experience, let me tell you."

He wore it? And he's still here? "You stayed away from cigars? No grass eating? No alcohol, milk, or beef? You didn't wear anything other than what came with the costume? You didn't dance?"

Robert shook his head at each question. "No, of course not. You told me not to. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's follow directions."

I looked at him, speechless. He followed the directions.

"I admit, it was hard," he continued when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "I mean, it was a pretty boring party with all those restrictions."

I just stared. He followed the directions!

The young man fidgeted and averted his gaze from me. "I had to leave early, and went to sleep before midnight in order to get here on time."

I can't believe he followed the directions!

"Look, are you all right? Not having a heart attack or anything, are you?"

"No... it's just... Never mind. Go home. Have fun. You deserve it."
I scooped up the costume and strode towards the back. By the time I got to the monitors he was gone.

I dropped by the storeroom and carefully put the costume back on the rack. Then I closed the shop, although not in the normal way. Instead I went to the front and exited the front door, locking it behind me.

There's a good bar in this mall, I knew. Time for a good stiff drink.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Spells_R_Us]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Where's the Beef?}}

Category:Spells R Us

2007-09-12T23:29:21Z

Xodiac: New page: Category:Stories by setting

[[Category:Stories by setting]]

User:Xodiac

2007-09-12T23:28:39Z

Xodiac:

Xodiac has been a reader and writer of transformation fiction since 1997.

==Stories==

*[[Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, two people must dodge someone trying to kill them even as they try to come to grips with their new bodies — and the new feelings they suddenly have for each other.

*[[Free]]
:Even the most overwhelming grief can be overcome, with the help of the right visitor.

*[[The Fugitive]]
:The men with guns are coming. It's time to fight or flee.

*[[Loving Halloween]]
:The grass is always greener on the other side, as one man discovers while doing a little above-age trick-or-treating.

*[[Refamiliarization]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, a man goes to Kubla Con as his RPG character, and finds he's locked himself into a new career.

*[[Replay]]
:Set in [[User:Posti|BobStein's]] [[:Category:Walk-A-Mile|Walk-a-Mile]] universe, one patron stops in a strange new store, where he just might find exactly what he needs.

*[[Stable Home Life]]
:A tenant finds that his new digs aren't quite the great deal he thought they were.

*[[Ten Seconds]]
:A short mood piece, brief enough that a summary would essentially spoil it.

*[[Where's the Beef?]]
:Set in Bill Hart's [[:Category:Spells_R_Us|Spells 'R' Us]] setting, a frat brother goes to the wrong place for a costume. Somebody's sure in for a surprise!

[[Category:Author]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Xodiac}}

Where's the Beef?

2007-09-12T23:26:20Z

Xodiac:

==By Xodiac==

It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I work when I want to, not by any schedule.
Still, I thought, looking at the Elvis clock on the wall, it was about time.

I took a long breath, then opened the store. Someplace in some mall somewhere a vacant stall was being replaced with the distinct storefront of Spells 'R' Us.

It's not usually more than a few minutes before someone who fits all my requirements comes by, and today was no different. Not ten minutes after I moved the store a young man walked in. He looked like a football linebacker: tall and broad, with brown hair and blue eyes and pretty good looks. If he was the quarterback he'd have more women than he could handle. As it is he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting a date. Probably took them for granted.

Perfect.

I watched on the security monitor (a mundane one — why use magic for absolutely everything?) for a few minutes as he browsed. Sometimes I come out of the back nearly immediately, but I felt like playing with this one. What should I make of him, I wondered. A cheerleader in love with his current best friend? No, too cliche. A little girl too young for grade school, much less college? Hm, perhaps. Or what about an old woman? I haven't done that in a while.

In the end I decided to wait. Sometime things make what to do obvious, like two days ago when three seniors entered making nasty coments about Ricky Martin. The three freshman girls who left were much more appreciative. But here nothing was really suggesting itself here. Time to go up front.

As I emerged from the doorway I fingers in the subtle movement that would activate the Knowledge spell. Everything I needed to know flooded into my brain in an instant. "Hello, Robert. What can I do for you today?" The spell had told me that already, but it's not good to show too much knowledge you're not supposed to have too soon. It scares the customers away, and that's no fun.

"How did you know...?" the young man — he was indeed a linebacker — asked in the usual puzzled tone.

"I'm a wizard, of course." You'd think more people would recognize my robe for what it is. "You don't think a place like this would be run by anything less, do you?"

"Uh... right."

He thinks I'm crazy, or at least playing around. I decided it was time to blow his mind. A little earlier than usual, but what the heck. "So what do you need? A love potion to get that girl you want? Or, no, wait. You already have Alice." Robert's eyes went wide. "What about a present for her? Her birthday is coming up, I understand." His mouth opened in an O of surprise. "Or... wait, I have it. You need a costume!"

Robert's mouth dropped wide open. "But... but.. how did you know that?! I mean... how!"

I smiled, feeling a warm glow deep inside me. I live for that moment.
But it was time to back off a little; the bait was hooked, but he hasn't quite bitten yet and I could still scare off the fish if I wasn't careful.

"The party's not a new thing. Surely you don't think I know about it from other customers?" He was the first customer for this party, of course, but he'd never know that.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I need a costume for the frat party. But the other stores just have crap like pirates and rabbits and stuff. I was hoping for something more interesting, like a lizardman or something."

"Well, if you want interesting, you've certainly come to the right place. Let me go in back and see what I have in your size. Wait here."

I stepped back through the door. My office had been replaced with the enormous storeroom — the man who invented the Roaming Portal spell was a genius — and the costume section was nearby. Everything was nearby, really, including the costume I had in mind for him.

"Here you go," I said as I re-entered the shop. "I'm afraid this is all I had in your size. It's a minotaur costume."

"A minotaur, huh? That's a bull mixed with a human, right?" Robert asked asx he took the bundle from my arms and looked at the mask.

"Pretty much, although in this case it's a cow." I shrugged apologetically, feeling anything but.

Robert's shot his gaze around to me. "A cow?! I can't wear that!"

"Why not? Aren't there prizes for not being recognized? Heck, nobody would even suspect you in that thing! It molds to your body and your body to it; any misplaced bulk will be hidden perfectly. Not that I expect there to be much of that," I said, making sure he noticed me eying his body. I'd picked the costume partly because he was so big.
It was too appropriate to resist. "And like I said, it's the only one your size anyway."

That did it. "Okay, how much?"

"Thirty bucks per day."

"That's not cheap," he pointed out.

"It's a good costume. Besides, you only need it tonight."

"True enough." The linebacker pulled out his wallet and counted out thirty dollars. "Here you go. See you tomorrow."

"Just a moment," I called out as I put the money in the register — another mundane item, although there's a few anti-burglary additions I put on it. "There's a few things you need to know."

"What's that?" Robert looked at the door, anxious to get going.

"There's a few rules you need to know. First—"

"Rules? For a costume?" He looked at me like I was insane. "That's stupid."

"That's how it is, my boy," I scolded. "Now, don't rip, break, or otherwise damage the costume in any way. At all." Harder than it sounds, since the club that comes with that minotauress is pretty fragile. "Don't wear it past ten pm tonight, and bring it in before 10 am tomorrow." That would force him to leave the party ridiculously early, and I knew Robert was not a morning person. "You can't have any alcohol while in the costume or for the four hours afterwards." I rather doubted he'd be able to resist, at a frat party. "Don't stain it..." I continued like that for at least two minutes before letting him leave, costume in hand.

I let out a sharp bark of laughter as I returned to the office. Those rules were tedious and complicated. They're hard to pay attention to, much less follow appropriately. He'll be waking up tomorrow as a nice docile dairy cow named Bertha.

The next day I opened in the same mall. I wanted to see my handiwork.

"Hey, wizard! Here you go! Where are you?"

It was Robert! He wasn't a cow at all! I rushed out from the back.

"Oh, hi. What's wrong?" I realized I was staring at him as he set the costume on the counter.

"I, uh..." I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible! "Surprised to see you here, is all."

"Why? I needed to get this back before ten, you said. So here you go." He pushed the bundle at me.

Of course! That has to be it. "Did you even wear it?"

"Oh, sure. Wow, that thing is great. Really made me look like a minotaur woman. Felt like it, too. I even had to piss sitting down!"
Robert shook his head, grinning. "That was an experience, let me tell you."

He wore it? And he's still here? "You stayed away from cigars? No grass eating? No alcohol, milk, or beef? You didn't wear anything other than what came with the costume? You didn't dance?"

Robert shook his head at each question. "No, of course not. You told me not to. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's follow directions."

I looked at him, speechless. He followed the directions.

"I admit, it was hard," he continued when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "I mean, it was a pretty boring party with all those restrictions."

I just stared. He followed the directions!

The young man fidgeted and averted his gaze from me. "I had to leave early, and went to sleep before midnight in order to get here on time."

I can't believe he followed the directions!

"Look, are you all right? Not having a heart attack or anything, are you?"

"No... it's just... Never mind. Go home. Have fun. You deserve it."
I scooped up the costume and strode towards the back. By the time I got to the monitors he was gone.

I dropped by the storeroom and carefully put the costume back on the rack. Then I closed the shop, although not in the normal way. Instead I went to the front and exited the front door, locking it behind me.

There's a good bar in this mall, I knew. Time for a good stiff drink.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Spell_R_Us]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Where's the Beef?}}

Where's the Beef?

2007-09-12T23:25:27Z

Xodiac: New page: ==By Xodiac== It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I wo...

==By Xodiac==

It was a slow day at the shop. But then, nearly every day was, until I let the storefront be noticed. But I like to take things easy. Like your average telecommuter, I work when I want to, not by any schedule.
Still, I thought, looking at the Elvis clock on the wall, it was about time.

I took a long breath, then opened the store. Someplace in some mall somewhere a vacant stall was being replaced with the distinct storefront of Spells 'R' Us.

It's not usually more than a few minutes before someone who fits all my requirements comes by, and today was no different. Not ten minutes after I moved the store a young man walked in. He looked like a football linebacker: tall and broad, with brown hair and blue eyes and pretty good looks. If he was the quarterback he'd have more women than he could handle. As it is he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting a date. Probably took them for granted.

Perfect.

I watched on the security monitor (a mundane one -- why use magic for absolutely everything?) for a few minutes as he browsed. Sometimes I come out of the back nearly immediately, but I felt like playing with this one. What should I make of him, I wondered. A cheerleader in love with his current best friend? No, too cliche. A little girl too young for grade school, much less college? Hm, perhaps. Or what about an old woman? I haven't done that in a while.

In the end I decided to wait. Sometime things make what to do obvious, like two days ago when three seniors entered making nasty coments about Ricky Martin. The three freshman girls who left were much more appreciative. But here nothing was really suggesting itself here. Time to go up front.

As I emerged from the doorway I fingers in the subtle movement that would activate the Knowledge spell. Everything I needed to know flooded into my brain in an instant. "Hello, Robert. What can I do for you today?" The spell had told me that already, but it's not good to show too much knowledge you're not supposed to have too soon. It scares the customers away, and that's no fun.

"How did you know...?" the young man -- he was indeed a linebacker -- asked in the usual puzzled tone.

"I'm a wizard, of course." You'd think more people would recognize my robe for what it is. "You don't think a place like this would be run by anything less, do you?"

"Uh... right."

He thinks I'm crazy, or at least playing around. I decided it was time to blow his mind. A little earlier than usual, but what the heck. "So what do you need? A love potion to get that girl you want? Or, no, wait. You already have Alice." Robert's eyes went wide. "What about a present for her? Her birthday is coming up, I understand." His mouth opened in an O of surprise. "Or... wait, I have it. You need a costume!"

Robert's mouth dropped wide open. "But... but.. how did you know that?! I mean... how!"

I smiled, feeling a warm glow deep inside me. I live for that moment.
But it was time to back off a little; the bait was hooked, but he hasn't quite bitten yet and I could still scare off the fish if I wasn't careful.

"The party's not a new thing. Surely you don't think I know about it from other customers?" He was the first customer for this party, of course, but he'd never know that.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I need a costume for the frat party. But the other stores just have crap like pirates and rabbits and stuff. I was hoping for something more interesting, like a lizardman or something."

"Well, if you want interesting, you've certainly come to the right place. Let me go in back and see what I have in your size. Wait here."

I stepped back through the door. My office had been replaced with the enormous storeroom -- the man who invented the Roaming Portal spell was a genius -- and the costume section was nearby. Everything was nearby, really, including the costume I had in mind for him.

"Here you go," I said as I re-entered the shop. "I'm afraid this is all I had in your size. It's a minotaur costume."

"A minotaur, huh? That's a bull mixed with a human, right?" Robert asked asx he took the bundle from my arms and looked at the mask.

"Pretty much, although in this case it's a cow." I shrugged apologetically, feeling anything but.

Robert's shot his gaze around to me. "A cow?! I can't wear that!"

"Why not? Aren't there prizes for not being recognized? Heck, nobody would even suspect you in that thing! It molds to your body and your body to it; any misplaced bulk will be hidden perfectly. Not that I expect there to be much of that," I said, making sure he noticed me eying his body. I'd picked the costume partly because he was so big.
It was too appropriate to resist. "And like I said, it's the only one your size anyway."

That did it. "Okay, how much?"

"Thirty bucks per day."

"That's not cheap," he pointed out.

"It's a good costume. Besides, you only need it tonight."

"True enough." The linebacker pulled out his wallet and counted out thirty dollars. "Here you go. See you tomorrow."

"Just a moment," I called out as I put the money in the register -- another mundane item, although there's a few anti-burglary additions I put on it. "There's a few things you need to know."

"What's that?" Robert looked at the door, anxious to get going.

"There's a few rules you need to know. First--"

"Rules? For a costume?" He looked at me like I was insane. "That's stupid."

"That's how it is, my boy," I scolded. "Now, don't rip, break, or otherwise damage the costume in any way. At all." Harder than it sounds, since the club that comes with that minotauress is pretty fragile. "Don't wear it past ten pm tonight, and bring it in before 10 am tomorrow." That would force him to leave the party ridiculously early, and I knew Robert was not a morning person. "You can't have any alcohol while in the costume or for the four hours afterwards." I rather doubted he'd be able to resist, at a frat party. "Don't stain it..." I continued like that for at least two minutes before letting him leave, costume in hand.

I let out a sharp bark of laughter as I returned to the office. Those rules were tedious and complicated. They're hard to pay attention to, much less follow appropriately. He'll be waking up tomorrow as a nice docile dairy cow named Bertha.

The next day I opened in the same mall. I wanted to see my handiwork.

"Hey, wizard! Here you go! Where are you?"

It was Robert! He wasn't a cow at all! I rushed out from the back.

"Oh, hi. What's wrong?" I realized I was staring at him as he set the costume on the counter.

"I, uh..." I had to shake my head to clear my thoughts. This was impossible! "Surprised to see you here, is all."

"Why? I needed to get this back before ten, you said. So here you go." He pushed the bundle at me.

Of course! That has to be it. "Did you even wear it?"

"Oh, sure. Wow, that thing is great. Really made me look like a minotaur woman. Felt like it, too. I even had to piss sitting down!"
Robert shook his head, grinning. "That was an experience, let me tell you."

He wore it? And he's still here? "You stayed away from cigars? No grass eating? No alcohol, milk, or beef? You didn't wear anything other than what came with the costume? You didn't dance?"

Robert shook his head at each question. "No, of course not. You told me not to. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's follow directions."

I looked at him, speechless. He followed the directions.

"I admit, it was hard," he continued when he realized I wasn't going to say anything. "I mean, it was a pretty boring party with all those restrictions."

I just stared. He followed the directions!

The young man fidgeted and averted his gaze from me. "I had to leave early, and went to sleep before midnight in order to get here on time."

I can't believe he followed the directions!

"Look, are you all right? Not having a heart attack or anything, are you?"

"No... it's just... Never mind. Go home. Have fun. You deserve it."
I scooped up the costume and strode towards the back. By the time I got to the monitors he was gone.

I dropped by the storeroom and carefully put the costume back on the rack. Then I closed the shop, although not in the normal way. Instead I went to the front and exited the front door, locking it behind me.

There's a good bar in this mall, I knew. Time for a good stiff drink.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Spell_R_Us]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]] [[Category:Ambiguous]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Where's the Beef?}}

User:Xodiac

2007-09-12T23:22:44Z

Xodiac:

Xodiac has been a reader and writer of transformation fiction since 1997.

==Stories==

*[[Far Indeed From Sherwood Forest]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, two people must dodge someone trying to kill them even as they try to come to grips with their new bodies — and the new feelings they suddenly have for each other.

*[[Free]]
:Even the most overwhelming grief can be overcome, with the help of the right visitor.

*[[The Fugitive]]
:The men with guns are coming. It's time to fight or flee.

*[[Loving Halloween]]
:The grass is always greener on the other side, as one man discovers while doing a little above-age trick-or-treating.

*[[Refamiliarization]]
:Set in [[User:Bryan|Bryan Derksen's]] [[:Category:Xanadu|Xanadu]] universe, a man goes to Kubla Con as his RPG character, and finds he's locked himself into a new career.

*[[Replay]]
:Set in [[User:Posti|BobStein's]] [[:Category:Walk-A-Mile|Walk-a-Mile]] universe, one patron stops in a strange new store, where he just might find exactly what he needs.

*[[Stable Home Life]]
:A tenant finds that his new digs aren't quite the great deal he thought they were.

*[[Ten Seconds]]
:A short mood piece, brief enough that a summary would essentially spoil it.

*[[Where's the Beef?]]
:Set in Bill Hart's ''SRU'' setting, a frat brother goes to the wrong place for a costume. Somebody's sure in for a surprise!

[[Category:Author]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Xodiac}}

Replay

2007-09-12T23:20:06Z

Xodiac: New page: ==By Xodiac== Chris was glad to be out of the store, even if it was only for lunch. He was so tired of being behind the counter; he much preferred to be the customer. And burritos had l...

==By Xodiac==

Chris was glad to be out of the store, even if it was only for lunch.
He was so tired of being behind the counter; he much preferred to be the customer. And burritos had lost all their charm a while ago. The pizza joint a few stores down made better food. He was thinking of looking for a new job, too; it was as monotonous as the food. The only benefit was that it paid the bills, usually.

His pace slowed as he passed the new store between the two restaurants. It must have finally opened up while he was off for the weekend. "Walk a Mile," he read aloud, and looked in the window. Used shoes. "Oh, good grief," he said, rolling his eyes at the joke.

He paused, then went in. His sneakers were getting rather threadbare; perhaps he could find some cheap replacements. ''As if I could afford any other kind,'' he thought, and snorted.

"Hello, young man," a friendly woman's voice called out as he entered.
A short, shabby-looking woman put a pair of shoes on a shelf and nodded a welcome at him. "You're one of our first customers! Feel free to try any of these on."

Chris glanced at his graying hair in the mirror behind the counter.
''Young man?'' he mused. ''She's hardly older than I, and I'm pushing fifty!'' He nodded politely in response and started browsing the shelves.

The variety of shoes available was amazing. There were pumps and stiletto heels, baby shoes and sneakers of all types. They were not well organized, however. Dance shoes and loafers and even a pair of bunny slippers were all right next to each other. It looked like the stock were put on the shelves wherever there was space available.

In a way, however, the arrangement made a strange kind of sense. After all, where in a traditional footwear display would you catalog a full set of four horseshoes?

"See anything you like?" the dowdy little woman said from behind him, startling him.

"No, I'm just browsing." He walked a few feet down the short aisle and stopped cold. "Hey!"

"Ah, you ''do'' see something!"

Chris pointed at a pair of children's sneakers. They were a bright red, once, but the color had faded with time and what appeared to be rigorous use. The shoelaces were dirty and the fabric had a hole over the spot where the big toe went. "Where'd you get those? I had a pair just like them when I was seven!"

"It's mostly an exchange program," the proprietor said casually.
"Occasionally we just find pair that we feel meets our standards, though, and we put them up."

Chris picked up one of the shoes and looked it over carefully. "I loved mine, wore them until they were dead. In a sudden fit of nostalgia, he blurted, "I'll take them."

"Certainly, dear. Why don't you try them on, then?"

Chris looked at her oddly. She seemed entirely serious. "Lady, I can't wear these. They're made for a kid."

"I can size anything to fit, even those. Go ahead and try them on."

The woman was obviously batty, but he took a seat to humor her. One halfhearted try and he could get out of here. But the shoe fit perfectly. There was no effort to it at all. He stared at his foot, astonished.

"Now the other one," she prompted him. He was too stupefied to disobey. The second fit just as well as the first. "There now, I told you I could fit those."

Chris finally found his voice enough to mumble, "That is totally weird." He wriggled his toes in the sneakers, and had to restrain from giggling when he saw his big toe move through the hole.

"Our return policy is pretty lenient," the older woman told him. "You can try them out for a while, no cost to you. But if you walk more than a mile in them, they're yours."

He tried a few experimental steps around the store. They seemed to be working well enough. "Right. Fine. I'll be seeing you later." He waved to her absently as he walked out the door, lost in thought.

He'd only gone a few steps when he realized he'd never paid for the shoes. For that matter, he'd entirely forgotten about getting a real replacement pair. He put his hand in his pocket and turned around, then stopped suddenly. His wallet was gone. For that matter, so was the little shopping center.

He was still standing on a sidewalk. But instead of the line of closely packed stores was a row of small houses. Picket fences surrounded neatly manicured lawns that seemed somehow familiar.
Everything had changed, including, much to his dismay, himself.

He was a kid. "What the ''hell?''"

"Shh!" Came the hurried whisper from behind him. "Tessa will tell for sure if she hears you say that!"

"''What?''" Chris blurted as he whirled around. His younger sister had died eight years ago in a car crash, along with Jason. Her husband and his best friend. Who was standing in front of him, no older than himself.

"C'mon," the ghost said. "I don't want to be around her. You can never have any fun."

Chris didn't follow. ''You'll have fun enough with her in twelve or thirteen years. What the hell is going on?''

The answer was absolutely obvious, even if it was also absolutely impossible. He looked down at his feet. They ''had'' been his shoes, and somehow — Lord only knows how — he was seven again.

The woman's voice suddenly sounded inside his head. With the day's events he wasn't even sure if it was just a memory. "If you walk more than a mile in them, they're yours."

He could take the shoes off and return to the present. Or the future, depending. But that wasn't very appealing. He'd never gone to college. He'd gone to work for his father at the drugstore straight out of high school and drifted ever since from job to job. There'd been some good times, but such times were few and carefully regimented. He'd sold the years in order to exist, little more.

On the other hand, being seven wasn't especially inviting either.
Chris tried to remember what it had been like. No power at home. In to bed at eight, no questions. A meager allowance. A bike that could use a bit of work, and a pretty small group of friends. School. Rules, rules, and more rules.

But at least a seven-year-old had room to grow. He could ''do'' something with his life, this time.

"Hey, wait up!" he cried, running after his friend.

{{Separator|stars}}

In the shop, the worn-out sneakers he had been wearing disappeared from the floor, to reappear a moment later on the shelf. The old woman
smiled slightly and considered. They'd not be taken very quickly, with
a life such as that. But there was always someone out there willing to buy a fixer-upper.

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Walk-A-Mile]] [[Category:Age_Regression]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Replay}}

The Fugitive

2007-09-12T23:15:09Z

Xodiac:

==By Xodiac==

I can hear the helicopter getting closer. Its blades give me plenty of warning, and I'm safely hidden behind a fast food dumpster long before its sleek, featureless black body passes low overhead.

I smile as it turns and is hidden by a building. That is the only celebration I allow. It is, after all, a small victory, like the others I've won tonight. And last night, and for many nights before that.

I slip out with the sound of the chopper still fading. I need to stay on the move, and pick my resting places very carefully. There are people on foot looking for me as well, and if they're in the area a mere dumpster won't escape inspection.

This is a fairly small town, luckily, and it is late. The streets are nearly deserted. From time to time a car approaches more closely than is comfortable, but there are bushes to crouch behind, culverts to dive into, trees to scramble up.

Damn. I should have looked in that dumpster while I was there. Now I have to find another place to find food. There. A house with newspapers piled on the driveway. There's only a few, so the owners haven't been gone long. The food shouldn't be too spoiled. And it might be a good place to spend the night as well.

I prefer to rest in a house. It's more comfortable than most other options. But more importantly, they don't go searching for me there.
Searching door to door would be too invasive. They can't just declare martial law. This is my main advantage.

But they have advantages of their own. I cannot seek shelter from anyone, because they might be one of them, or innocently turn me over to my death. Worse than death. I know what it is they do, transforming the innocents they capture into hideous monsters for their own use.
There's no way I will let them do that to me.

But what ''can'' I do, then? I ponder the question as I eat my third can of ravioli. The only answer I come up with is to keep running.

I angrily throw the half-full can against the wall, spattering tomato sauce all over. Damn it! Why can't they leave me alone? They say I'm a dangerous criminal; there are pictures of me everywhere, even here.
But the only crime I can be honestly accused of is theft. They do this to make someone more likely to turn me in to them. Make me disappear, changed into something unbearable.

The room is suddenly awash in light. The helicopter! Damn, damn damn it! In my preoccupation I didn't notice it as it neared. Now I can hear it thundering directly overhead.

How did they find me? Did I hide imperfectly from a car, or did a neighbor hear the faint tinkle of glass when I broke in? It doesn't matter, they're here now, but still I wonder.

I run from room to room, searching frantically for a place they wouldn't possibly search, and find none. I look for a weapon, and find none more deadly than the knives in the kitchen. No matter, I'll fight tooth and nail if I have to, I won't be taken!

The front door downstairs crashes inwards. I take the knife and hide behind the door. Running won't work with the helicopter to direct the people on the ground. With a bit of luck, I can eliminate them. Then I can worry about evading the chopper.

I can hear their heavy boots on the stairs. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what is to come. Closer... closer... Here they come... now!

{{Separator|stars}}

"They finally got him."

Agent Graham looked up at his partner. "Really? In custody, or just found?"

Agent Brewer grinned. "In custody. Bagged and tagged and on his way here." He frowned. "Took out six men before they got a tranq into him."

Graham's jaw dropped. "''Six?'' But what about their armor?!"

Brewer shook his head. "It was just kevlar, meant to take bullets, not claws. He tore through it pretty easily."

Graham shook with rage. "Damn him!" Heads in the office turned, but he didn't care. "Damn him and the bastard scientists! Who the hell needs a human-tiger cross, anyway?"

Brewer laid a hand on his partner's shoulder. Graham managed to get himself back under control, although the anger still burned in his eyes. "Geneteched supersoldiers are a good moneymaker, even if they are illegal. You know that. But he was the last of this batch."

"Good. I hope they hang the guys who did that to him." Graham paused.
"I wonder why he ran away from the reclamation crews, anyway."

Brewer shrugged. "Some folks just would rather not be human, I guess."

<comments />

[[Category:Story]] [[Category:Xodiac]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]
{{DEFAULTSORT:Fugitive, The}}

The Fugitive

2007-09-12T23:14:27Z

Xodiac: New page: ==By Xodiac== I can hear the helicopter getting closer. Its blades give me plenty of warning, and I'm safely hidden behind a fast food dumpster long before its sleek, featureless black b...