Part 19 (2/2)

”But right now, you're human, yes?” Ivy asked.

”Yes,” Ether said.

”And later you will change shape, yes?” Ivy asked.

”As soon as the situation requires it,” Ether said.

”So, humans can change shape then,” Ivy said.

”Absolutely not!” Ether corrected.

”You are a human, you just said! And if humans can't change shape, then you can't change back!” Ivy said.

Ether turned to face her. Her eyes were narrowed and her fist clenched in frustrated anger.

”I will not waste time and energy forcing understanding into an unwilling mind,” she fumed.

”Uh huh. That just means I win,” Ivy said.

”You did not win. There was nothing to win,” Ether snapped.

”Well, you are talking to me now. You weren't before,” Ivy said.

”Yes, a mistake I will rectify at once,” she said.

She crossed her arms and turned away again. Ivy smiled.

”For someone who claims to be 'above' emotions, you certainly get mad easily,” she said.

Ether whipped around, rage in her eyes. The sight before her was Ivy with a satisfied smile.

”Now I am going to stop talking to you,” she said.

Grinning triumphantly and crossing her arms, she sat on the ground and leaned against Myranda's back. She wasn't tired, not remotely, but she closed her eyes. She could downright feel the rage in Ether. The creature who acted so superior was no different from herself. It was a satisfying discovery. For her part, Ether fairly shook with anger. She had never felt so manipulated, and she had never hated a being more. She had never hated before. The fact that this pretender had instilled such a feeling, such a weakness, only intensified it. Her rage was a fire that was fueled by its own existence. Finally, she released it in its most literal form, s.h.i.+fting to flame. The thought of directing her wrath at Ivy lingered in her mind, but instead she used it to reduce a sizable mount of snow to boiling water. The edge of her rage thus blunted, she s.h.i.+fted to water to spend the rest of the night restoring a fraction of her power.

When morning came, Lain was the first to rise, as he had never truly slept. The wind blew with frustrating steadiness from the mountains. It carried little information he sought. Quietly, Ivy joined him. She looked him over with curiosity. He sniffed at the air, she imitated. She continued looking him over, comparing him to herself. He was like her. More like her by far than anything else she had seen or smelled. She had fur, he had fur. She had pointed ears, he had pointed ears. She had a tail . . .

”Where is your tail?” she asked.

He looked at her for a moment, then turned back to his task. Ivy frowned.

”When I was younger it was cut off and sold,” he said after a moment.

”That's terrible. Why?” she asked.

Again Lain hesitated before answering.

”It was more highly valued than I,” he said.

” . . . You and I . . . are we the same?” she asked.

”We are,” he said.

”Then . . . is that going to happen to me?” she asked.

”No,” he answered immediately. ”That will not happen to you.”

Ivy smiled. The sudden snap and crackle of ice drew their attention. Ether had chosen to rise. After climbing from the frozen pool, she s.h.i.+fted to her human form once more. Ivy gave her a sneer.

”Well, now that this exercise in weakness is over, I trust we can continue,” she said.

”Not yet. Myranda isn't up yet,” Ivy said.

”Myranda is meaningless. She and the lizard have fulfilled what little role they had,” Ether said.

”Well, I'm not leaving without her,” Ivy said.

Ether's eyes narrowed. Quickly she forced composure on herself. She would not give this creature the satisfaction of showing anger.

”Very well. If you wish to waste time and further damage our cause, by all means, do so,” she said.

”No need,” came Myranda's voice wearily.

She hoisted herself to her feet and stretched her stiff joints. She had barely slept, and was chilled to the core, but she refused to burden the others. Myn restored her own warmth with a few bursts of flame. Myranda opened and closed her hands a few times until the feeling began to return to her fingers. Lain continued on his way, setting a pace that most easily matched. Myranda had to fairly run to keep up. As she did, she allowed tiny doses of magic to restore enough warmth to her ailing body to convince herself she was out of danger. In the distance there was a fair sized stand of trees beside a small, icy lake. Myranda searched her memory for the name of either, but in all likelihood this unremarkable spot in this icy plain simply didn't warrant one.

”What are you thinking about?” Ivy asked, breaking the trance-like wandering of Myranda's mind.

”I was wondering if this place had a name,” she said.

”Why?” she asked.

”Well, it helps me to keep from thinking about less pleasant things,” Myranda answered.

”Well, you and I could talk. No one else seems to like to talk,” Ivy said.

”Yes . . . I would like that very much,” Myranda said.

Thus engaged in the rare luxury of mutual conversation, the journey seemed to pa.s.s more quickly. It was a little difficult at first. Ivy didn't know enough about herself to answer any questions Myranda asked, and Myranda had to take special care not to upset her again. Instead, Ivy asked scores of questions about Myranda and the others, and about the world in general. She seemed to be only vaguely aware of some of the most significant events of the past few decades. Hearing of the war bothered her, but she seemed very interested in anything Myranda had to say about Kenvard. Ivy was mid-sentence when a gust of wind from the south caused her, as well as Lain and Myn, to lock their eyes on the horizon.

”What is it?” Myranda asked.

”I smell something,” Ivy said.

”Nearby,” Lain added, almost silently.

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