The jump was incredibly easy. Dry-Eyes and Emily were joined by the hare, who wanted to show off his findings with Emily’s camera. He had no worries about getting to see the king.
“All monarchs know the importance of keeping on the good side of scientific institutions,” he’d sniffed imperiously. “We’re the ones who invent weapons.”
Emily carried his travelling satchel for him. Once he’d found out that her backpack could hold a probably infinite volume, he’d gone a little overboard. At least, Emily thought, it didn’t feel like she was carrying practically half a lab.
The three walked through a very boring-looking door in the monastery catacombs into a dim forest slashed by beams of sunlight. Dry-Eyes looked annoyed.
“This isn’t a day’s walk from the castle.”
“What?” Emily looked around anxiously. “How do you know? Did the jump mess up?”
“No.” The hare sat up on his haunches and looked around. “I thought we might stop by and see a friend of mine. He’ll take us through a jump that will place us a day’s walk from the castle.”
The sprite flew down to face the hare. “Rabbit.” Dry-Eyes measured her words, watching the hare bristle. “Could you tell us why we’re taking a social detour?”
“My friend may help speed Emily’s word to the king—he has some influence. Besides, it’ll only delay us by a couple of days.”
“A couple of days.” Dry-Eyes nodded. She rose back up to Emily’s head height. “You’re lucky I like you, child.” Emily shifted her feet. The sprite didn’t look back at the hare as she asked, “Where do we go now?”
He sniffed, testing the air. “About there-ish.”
Dry-Eyes grumbling, they set off in the general direction he’d waved his paw. At first they made good time, but eventually the women had to stop, Dry-Eyes circling Emily’s head while they waited for the hare to catch up. His bounds could draw him ahead of their travelling pace, but he couldn’t keep up the speed for long. Emily offered to carry him but he clicked his teeth, offended.
“That would be terribly undignified. How would it look if I came up to my friend carried in the arms of some mundane human?” Emily argued that she was technically Folk and they finally found a compromise. She’d carry him until they were close and he’d finish the rest of the way on his own four feet.
As the light breaking through the trees dimmed, the hare wriggled in Emily’s arms, scratching her with his nails. She dropped him.
“Done being carried?”
The hare righted himself and shook off bits of dead leaves. “Yes. I believe we’re almost there.” He bounded ahead.
Dry-Eyes flew closer to Emily’s ear. “Almost where? Are we visiting some underground warren of family bunny friends?”
Emily shrugged. Ahead, the hare was gesturing at them to get moving. Sharing one more look of confusion, the women followed his light, bounding shadow into the growing dark.
Before it had grown too dim to safely keep threading through trees and over brush, they came upon a cabin, windows spilling cheery light. Before the hare could scratch at the door, it opened, the light from inside mostly blocked by the blocky body of an upright bear. Emily and Dry-Eyes pulled up short.
Down by the massive, taloned feet, the hare shouted a hello and bounded inside, darting between the bear’s legs. “They’re with me!” the hare called over his shoulder.
Dropping to all four legs so he could see through the door, the bear snuffed at Emily and Dry-Eyes before nodding and shuffling to the side. Carefully, they slid past him into the cabin. The bear closed the door behind them.
“I’m called Crawburn, pleased to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but it might not turn out well.” Claws clicked against each other as he looked at his paw, wiggling his fingers. “Maybe I can introduce myself again on the full moon.”
“The full moon?” Emily found her voice, curious.
“I get my human shape around then. That’s when I build.” The dangerous-looking paw moved in a grand gesture and Emily properly noticed the room she stood in. It was beautifully made, with dark stained panelling and decorative moulding. There was a mixture of chairs and tables, all designed for different body shapes and sizes. Dry-Eyes found a tiny, low-backed chair on a tall side table and settled in. She grinned at the bear.
“We have you at a disadvantage, Crawburn. I’m called Dry-Eyes and the girl gawking over there—”
“Oh.” Emily blinked, embarrassed. “I’m Emily.” She took off her pack and tried to relax, but the sheer presence of the giant bear in the room kept unsettling her. She felt a tug on her pant leg.
“Can I get some of my things out of your bag?” The hare shivered in excitement. “I want to take a picture of Crawburn.”
“You’ll need film then. I don’t have much left.” Emily was already opening her backpack. “And, the camera is not one of ‘your things.’”
Crawburn laughed, a deep and beautiful rumble. “Hare, you have the stupidest priorities.” He settled onto cushions by the fire. “Do you ladies want any sup or drink? You’ll have to help yourself; my paws are clumsy but I keep my cupboards stocked for visitors.”
Emily loaded the camera and handed it to the hare, reminding him to take only one picture. “I’d love a snack if it is freely given.” She glanced at Dry-Eyes, who nodded.
Crawburn grinned horribly, showing long incisors. “Of course, dear. I think I even have dishes in the right size for the little lady. If you’ll bring along that basket of apples I’ll even sit for our impatient friend’s portrait.”
Finding bread and cheese, Emily made a plate for herself and brought it to the table where Dry-Eyes sat in her, along with a miniature tray and knife. “I think you’d know better how much you want. And it’d be kind of gross if I dug my giant fingers in your food.” The sprite busied herself sawing off crumbs while Emily dragged the basket of apples to Crawburn.
The hare shook the developing photograph impatiently.
“It doesn’t happen any faster if you do that.” Emily picked up the camera and put it back in her bag. She settled down in an overstuffed chair next to Dry-Eyes.
“I don’t care.” The hare peered at the image. “Interesting, this is a totally different result than what we got with the other skin changers.” He showed the picture to Emily. It looked like a double exposure of a man and a bear, matching up at the eyes.
“Well, I’m not like the other skin changers. You know that.” The bear crunched an apple.
“We don’t.” Dry-Eyes gestured at the hare with a piece of cheese. “We didn’t even know you existed until your little lepus friend brought us here instead of to the king’s castle.”
Crawburn growled around the apple he was eating, which would have made Emily laugh if the hare hadn’t stopped his excited fidgets to lower his ears.
“I am disappointed in you, hare. Firstly, because you deceived those travelling with you and you know I don’t stand easy for fey-minded nonsense. Secondly, if you’re seeing me on your way to the king, you want me to give or send some word and I now don’t know if I want to.”
The hare fiddled with the edges of the photograph, nibbling at one corner. Emily leaned down and gently took it from him, adding it to the stack he’d taken at the institute.
“It was not my intention to mislead—”
“Oh bullshit, hare.” Dry-Eyes leaned back in her chair, wings twitching slightly as she looked down at him. “Just say you’re sorry so we can stop being worried you’re going to get ate.”
Crawburn snorted and tried to regain his grimace but lost it in booming laughter. The hare was more embarrassed than scared now, his apology lost in the bear’s mirth. With his ears still down, the hare padded to a spot by the fire, well out of reach of the bear’s paw. He pretended to sleep while Dry-Eyes and Emily joined in Crawburn’s laughter.
This post is part of The Audacity Gambit – Serialised. Learn more about when the book was first published here, see the archive and overall content warnings here, and find more of my writing here. I’m over on both Comradery and Patreon, if you feel like supporting my creative endeavours. If you’d like to subscribe to this story, here’s a handy email box for you: