Wheeling Gull Isle pi day

Hey! he said brightly when Heda materialized at his side, her shoulder brushing his.

Before he could ask her how she was doing today and what she might like to eat for lunch, she asked him about that day in the “lion’s den.” Caracal turned to look her fully in the face before looking forward again, his stride unbroken by the question.

I stayed there all night, he told her, still looking ahead, and listened. But nobody ever spoke to me, at least not literally. But… Caracal drew in a deep breath. I had the strangest dream a few nights later. I dreamed I was another creature altogether. It’s hard to describe but I didn’t have any fur—except on my head, lots of it there—and I walked on two legs. I had a very weird, flat face and flat teeth too. And I was a girl. So weird!

He glanced over at Heda to gauge her expression, then redirected his gaze to the horizon as the beach began to curve away from the mainland. His shoulder bumped his friend’s.

But it gets even weirder, he continued. I found my skin—as in, my real, wolf skin—and put it on, like… Well, he didn’t know how to describe it. And then I was me again, only I was still this weird girl on the inside. It was like our voices blended into one inside my head. Actually, I’d forgotten this part but… He blinked hard. She told me she was my writer.

Now he came to a halt, facing Heda again. He made a face. It had been a very peculiar dream. And Caracal wasn’t sure he’d really answered Heda’s question. He sensed he had, in his own way, but he wasn’t sure it was really the answer she was looking for.