White Witch, Black Magic

“Good sunrise,” Nyra greets me as I climb from my hammock.

It must be the next morning. Nyra is perched on the same branch she was when I went to sleep, still fiddling with her flute. I wonder if she ever sleeps.

“Good morning,” I reply.

“Mourning?” she questions. “Whom are you mourning?”

“Not mourning. It’s morning, the time frame when people are getting up. It’s before afternoon and after yesterday’s night.”

“Oh.”

“Are the others up yet?”

“Yes. They are down at the Witherin Meadow. When you’ve finished eating, follow the red roses to the Court.”

“The Court?”

“Yes.”

“About yesterday, well, I wanted to ask you about yourself.”

“You may wish to ask, but I do not wish to tell.”

“Nyra—”

In one fluid motion she stands and jumps. One hand catches the branch above her; the other tucks her flute into her hip pouch. She swings up onto the limb and leaps to the next one, climbing up the network of boughs inside the tree. I watch her slither through an opening in the side of the tree and disappear.

I sigh. That went really well, I think. You may wish to ask, but I do not wish to tell? What doesn’t she want to tell me?

Not knowing what else to do, I follow her instructions and head to the Witherin Meadow for breakfast. The others are there, like she promised they’d be, as is a trail of roses to follow.

“She didn’t tell you what this ‘court’ is?” Jake asks me when I tell him what Nyra said.

“No. She only said to come here, then follow the roses.”

“The red roses.”

“Yes, the red ones. Do you see any others?”

“No,” Jake replies. “But we’ll be sure not to follow any white ones, should they try and lead us astray.”

“We could always paint them red,” Avaysia says.

Bella grins. “Seriously? Painting the roses red?” We look at her. “And, of course, none of you get it. It’s a song from Alice in Wonderland, which, of course, none of you have heard of.”

“The more time I spend with you, the stranger you seem to be,” Wren tells her.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“View it as what you like, but it was just an observation.”

“Back to the matter at hand,” I say, redirecting the conversation. “What is this Court?”

“Only one way to find out.” Jake grins. “Use our noses to follow the roses.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

We walk along the trail of blood-red roses. Bella is humming to herself. I don’t recognize the song. I don’t bother to ask, though. It’s something from her world that I won’t understand. It’s probably her painting roses song.

Wren stoops and plucks one of the roses from the trail. He twirls it through his fingers as we walk. Then he moves over so he’s next to Avaysia. He hands her the rose, careful to keep her from touching the thorns.

“Why are you giving me this?” she asks.

“Because I thought you might like it. Because it’s pretty, and it reminded me of you, because your pretty…ugh. Never mind.” Wren’s cheeks are the same color as the flower.

Avaysia giggles. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”

Jake makes a gagging sound and pretends to puke. “Too—much—corny—sweetness!” he gasps, falling to his knees in the grass. “Can’t—bear—too much.”

He falls on his face and flops around. Bella and I laugh. Avaysia is trying to hide her face, which is now scarlet, behind the rose. Wren has his head in his hands. His face is very red, too.

Jake picks a rose, bounces to his feet, and kneels in front of me. “Emma! Emma, my beloved, won’t you follow the red roses with me?”

Bella is laughing so hard tears are running down her face. Avaysia is crouched on the ground, hiding in her skirt. Wren looks like he’s going to punch something. He starts coming at Jake, who yells in mock terror.

“Never fear, Emma my darling!” he cries.

He drops the rose and scoops me up. Before I can react, he’s slung me over his shoulder and is jogging down the trail. Wren storms after us. Avaysia is still hiding. Bella falls on her bottom in the grass and begins rolling around laughing, clutching her sides and gasping for air.

Jake scoops my feet under his arm, pulling me off his shoulder. I clutch his shoulder, sure I’m going to fall, but Jake catches me. He carries me cradled in his arms, the way a mother carries her child.

“You really pissed Wren off,” I say.

“He needs to lighten up. All this mushy stuff with him and Vay is just weird. Besides, it was fun.”

“He really shouldn’t do that to Avaysia, though. Poor thing. She’s already being forced to marry some jerk. He shouldn’t make her fall for him, because she’s just going to have to marry the guy anyways.”

“Bet you they kiss by the time we get to Flumen.”

“Wren wouldn’t do that to her.”

“So take the bet,” he goads me.

“Fine. You’re on.”

Jake suddenly stops walking.

“Jake? You alright?” He doesn’t answer. I feel his arms going slack around me. “Jake, no!” I say as he drops me. “Ouch!” I cry as I hit the ground.

“Oh, Emma, I’m sorry, it’s just…wow.”

“I don’t weigh that much,” I say indignantly.

“No, you’re light as a feather. It’s not that. It’s that.”

I look away from Jake and at what made him drop me. What I see staring back at me would have made me drop anything I was carrying, too. There are hundreds of unicorns milling around on the hillside. There are fat ones and skinny ones; old ones with horns so long it’s a wonder they don’t poke each other; little foals so young they don’t yet have horns at all, and everything in between.

“Oh, wow,” I breathe.

A pair of young unicorns comes cantering up to Jake and me. One is brown with a white star, the other brown with a white sock. The one with the star nickers in a way that reminds me of Hattie giggling.

Look, Aldain, she seems to be saying. People!

“Yes,” I tell her. “I’m Emma, and this is Jake. We’re friends of Nyra’s.”

The unicorns toss their heads, the tiny stubs that will grow into horns flashing in the sun.

Atlanta said humans couldn’t understand us unless we wanted them to, the one with the sock says. She said only Nyra could do that. Alycea, how does she know what we’re saying?

“You mean, I’m not supposed to understand your conversation?” I ask Aldain and Alycea.

She’s doing it again! Alycea says.

I realize that the unicorns aren’t really talking, because their mouths aren’t moving. They seem to be thinking the conversation, and somehow I’m hearing it. I turn to Jake, wondering if he can hear it as well, but he seems confused.

“Emma, are you talking to them?” he asks.

“Yes. Can’t you hear them?”

“No.”

Why does she understand our language when he does not? Alycea wants to know.

Aldain swishes his tail nervously and prances back and forth. Freak of nature, perhaps?

“Hey!” I protest. “I heard that!”

“Heard what?” Jake demands.

“Aldain—”

“Who?”

“Aldain. The unicorn baby with the sock.”

Baby my hoof! Aldain grumbles. I’m just small for my age.

No, you’re a little foal.

If I’m a foal you are, too. We’re the same age!

I’m a filly. We age faster. She says it like it’s an obvious fact an he’s an idiot.

I can almost see Aldain sticking his tongue out. I want to laugh, but Jake has heard none of this and is still waiting for me to tell him what Aldain said.

“What did Oli-pain—”

Al-dane! Oli-pain…why I oughta—

Aldain, stop it, Alycea protests.

“He’s name is Aldain, not Oli-pain.”

“Well what did All-ald-aldain say?”

“He called me a freak of nature, because I can understand him.”

Aldain, you’d better watch your thoughts around her, or she’ll tell your myita on you.

“What’s a myita, Alycea?”

A myita? Aldain, how do you describe a myita?

I dunno. The unicorn that cares for you, I guess. Usually the one who gave birth to you.

“Oh, a mother,” I say.

Mother? No, a myita.

“What do you call your father?”

Father? You mean padrina?

“Padrina. I like the sound of that. Myita and Padrina.”

“Jake, you’d better say you’re sorry! Wren’s out for bood!” Bella calls, coming out of the forest.

I’d completely forgotten about them. The two unicorn foals drove them from my mind.

Look sharp, Alycea. More people, Aldain knickers.

“Oh my gosh!” Bella gasps. “Unicorns! Babies by the look of it.”

We’re not babies! the young unicorns protest together.

I’m a filly, Alycea says proudly.

Colt, Aldain adds.

But definitely not babies!

Yeah, they’re in the Foaling Cave.

I grin. “They’re mad at you, Bella. Alycea and Aldain aren’t babies. They’re foals. A filly and a colt.”

“You guys use the same words here for horses?”

“What?”

“In my world, we use mare and stallion for female and male horses, and filly and colt for girl and boy foals. Then a gelding is a boy horse that’s been neutered.”

Aldain voices—thinks, whatever—what’s going through my mind.

Whhaaat?

Aldain, what is she talking about?

No idea, Leece.

Don’t call me that!

“I hate to interrupt your argument guys, but I have a question,” I say.

Bella asks, “What argument?” at the same time as Alycea, while the both Aldain and Jake think/say, “We weren’t arguing!”

“Jake and Bella, I wasn’t talking to you, Alycea and Aldain, where can I find the Court?”

Court? Alycea asks. What’d you do to get sent there?

Are you in trouble? Aldain looks like he’d like nothing better than for the answer to be yes. Lots and lots of trouble? Is Atlanta gonna kick you out?

Aldain, you wait till I tell your myita. She is gonna hoof you so hard…

Aww, Leece, I’m just playin’.

Alycea flicks her tail and swats Aldain. Don’t forget, she can hear everything you say. So watch your mouth.

You watch yours!

The banter reminds me of my brothers and me. Mama used to say we were driving her nuts with our constant squabbling, and now I see what she means. These two could go at it all day if I let them.

“I’m not in trouble, and I’m not telling anything to anyone’s myita. Now, where’s the Court?” I say.

“What’s a myita?” Bella asks as Alycea says This way, Miss.

“Emma. Call me Emma.”

“What?”

Bella looks very confused, but Alycea nods. Follow me, Emma.

Emma? What a strange name. How’d your myita come up with it? Aldain wants to know.

Alycea rolls her eyes and prances off. I follow her while Aldain pesters me with questions. Jake and Bella trail behind. I hear Jake explaining to Bella that I can understand the unicorns for some reason, and that I’ve been saying things that don’t make sense for a while.

“I’m answering their questions,” I say to Bella and Jake. “It only seems nonsensical to you because you can only hear a third of the conversation.”

Cause y’all are dumb humans! Aldain adds.

Aldain! Be polite. Didn’t your myita teach you to behave better than that?

“Guys! Wait up!” Wren calls.

He and Avaysia have finally decided to stop dilly-dallying and show up. I notice they keep a careful two feet between them, but that Avaysia still clutches her rose. She smiles at it and gives it a delicate sniff whenever she thinks no one is watching her.

This is Unicorn Grove, Emma, Alycea tells me.

It’s where all us unicorns live, ’cept for the higher ups. They’re all over in the High Gardens.

Aldain has an interesting way of talking. He rolls together words and drops syllables. He says over in as ovrin, making it one word. It reminds me a bit of Zoë, back at Avaysia’s castle.

“And what’s Court?” I ask.

’S where all the eldest and wisest unicorns meet ta discuss things a great importance.

He says importance so it rhymes with dance.

Alycea leads us through what Aldain called Unicorn Grove. We follow a dirt path up a hill. The path zig-zags back and forth when the hill is too steep. Tacking, I think it’s called. Grass grows on either side of the path. Little areas are sectioned off, like houses, but there’s nothing built there. Arrays of flowers mark out various shapes in the grass.

Unicorns mill about, munching grass and playing. I can hear a lot of their thoughts. It’s like standing in a crowded room where everyone is talking over each other. The unicorns must have a way to make their thoughts more direct, but I’m picking up everything. I try to tune out everyone except Alycea and Aldain.

When the dirt path turns to stone, Alycea stops. We’re not to go any further, Emma, she says.

Only on spec-ee-al occasions dewy git to go up there. Aldain adds. He says dewy instead of do we. Aldain flips his tail at us. Good luck within whatever y’all been called up here for.

“Thank you,” I say. I turn back to the others. “They can’t go any farther.”

’Cept on spec-ee-al occasions.

“Except on special occasions,” I amend.

It ain’t ‘special’. It’s ‘spec-ee-al’.

Is there a difference? Alycea asks.

There’s all the difference in the world, Leece!

I ignore them, choosing instead to listen to my friends.

“So we continue on our own?” Wren asks.

“Yup.”

I step onto the stone path.

Wouldn’t be somethin’ ifin it blew up on ’er?”

Aldain, that’s not funny! I like Emma.

Meh.

Her friends are a bit strange, though.

Meh. Wonder if she can still hear us?

“I can,” I say.

I meant strange in a good way, Alycea says.

Sure you did, Leece.

Shut up.

Meh.

I decide not to get involved in their conversation. I continue leading the others up the path. As we move away, their voices fade, as if they really were talking out loud.

Don’t step on the path, Aldain. You’ll get in trouble.

Meh.

Will you stop saying that?

Don’t cha like it? It’s my new catch phrase.

Don’t step on the path!

Whadda ya think of my phrase?

Meh.

Why I oughta hit cha with my hoof where the sun don’t shine!

You can’t.

Why not?

I’m a filly! The sun shines everywhere on fillies.

Meh.

C’mon, let’s go.

Don’t you ever wanna know what’s up there?

You’ve been up there.

Don’t you wanna know what’s up there when they don’t know we’re comin’?

No. Aldain, don’t—!

I hear the clatter of hooves on stone and know Aldain must have jumped onto the path. Their voices are very faint now, but I manage to hear Alycea’s shrieks.

I’m gonna tell your myita! You’re in sooo much trouble!

Leece! Don’t! Aww, crap, she’s gonna kill me! Leece!

Then they’re gone, and I’m left with an empty head.

“Well, that’s that,” I say.

“What’s what?” Bella asks.

“I can’t hear them anymore. We’re out of range, I guess.”

“What, like cell service? Oh, right. Never mind.”

“What’s cell service?” Avaysia asks.

“Never mind, Vay.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“You two sound just like Alycea and Aldain.”

“We do?” Bella asks.

“Which do I sound like?”

“Alycea. Aldain would call her Leece and she’d tell him not to. So, of course, he’d do it all the more.”

“Ha ha!” Avaysia taunts. “I sound like a girl and you sound like a boy! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

“Oh, can it, Vay.”

Avaysia opens her mouth to reply, but Jake cuts her off. “Will you two knock it off, already? We’re in the presence of…unicorns in charge? I don’t really know what to call them.”

“Unicorns In Charge? The UIC?” Wren says.

“Sure.”

I told you humans are strange. I would send them on their way immediately.

Patience, Atlanta. I will hear their tale.

While Bella and Avaysia were bickering, we reached the end of the path. Atlanta stands there, speaking with another unicorn. His fur is mostly gray, but it looks like it used to be black. Age has taken the shin from his fur and the sparkle from his horn, but his dark eyes are still young. His horn is long and twisted. It’s a pearly white color, as are the extra long tendrils of fur that hang off his chin like a beard.

They’re standing in yet another grassy meadow (this place seems to be full of meadows). The flowers here are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, or even heard of. They have five petals, each tipped in light purple, and yellow centers. They remind me of stars.

My name is Crayonta, the elder unicorn says. I am the leader of all the unicorns here. Atlanta, whom you’ve already met, is my most trusted advisor. She advises me to send you all on your way. What say you?

I’ve been growing used to the voices in my head, but the others are caught off guard. This unicorn, Crayonta, must be intentionally sharing his words with all of us.

“Did anyone else hear that?” Jake asks nervously.

Be not afraid little human. Tell us your story.

“Okay, that’s weird. Really, really weird,” Bella says.

I wonder how she can be totally calm when sucked from her world into mine and dragged through the Woods of Death. Then, when faced with a mouse or a voice in her head, she freaks out.

“My name is Emma Vivaskari Rose,” I begin. “My friends and I have been traveling through the Sylvian Woods, going from Regnum to Flumen.”

Why?

“Avaysia—the blonde one—she’s getting married in Flumen. To Prince Alexander. Wren—” I point him out “—and I were chosen to escort her.”

Where did the other two come from, Emma Vivaskari Rose?

“We sort of picked them up along the way.”

Picked them up?

“It’s a long story.”

Make it short, Atlanta interrupts. We haven’t got all day.

Actually, we do, Crayonta contradicts. Now, picked up how?

“Well, Jake here is a thief. He was trying to rob us, but Wren and I caught him. Then he escaped, and we chased him down. We almost got turned into an ogre’s dinner, but Jake saved us. And Bella is from another world. She fell through some weird portal thing-ma-bob.”

Interesting.

Lies.

Now, Atlanta, just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it’s not true. You should be more open to these things. If you don’t free your mind from fear from the unknown, you’ll never succeed me as leader here. They’ll never choose you.

“Choose?” Bella says. “You guys elect a leader?”

Of course.

Bella punches the air. “Yes! See, this proves to all those Communist freaks that Democracy works, that’s it’s smarter. Even unicorns use it!”

Interesting, Crayonta says again.

“Sorry,” Bella apologizes. “I should have kept that in my head.”

Do not worry. Please continue your story, Emma Vivaskari Rose.

“Please, just call me Emma.”

As you wish. Continue, Emma. You were running from an ogre, taking the blonde—Avaysia, did you call her?—to her wedding.

“Yes. Well, before we picked up Bella or Jake, we drank water that turned us into rabbits, and I discovered I’m a witch. Then after the ogre, a dragon attacked us and killed one of our horses. There was a huge rainstorm. After that was over, another of our horses, Winter, tried to run off with Avaysia. Jake and I managed to catch her, but I took a blow to the head and nearly died. Then Atlanta showed up and brought us here.”

I see.

Do you, Crayonta? Can we be sure they’re safe?

We’re unicorns. What can they possibly do to us?

Oh, all sorts. I learned the hard way not to trust humans.

Meh.

I almost laugh. Hearing Aldain’s indifferent little phrase coming from this wise elder just makes it that much more amusing. None of the others seem to be amused by this exchange, and I wonder if I was meant to hear it or not.

“Jake, what did Crayonta just say?”

“He said, ‘I see’. Can’t you hear him? He’s inside your head!”

“But that’s the last thing he said?”

What are you talking about Emma?

“Oh. Um, well, I heard you brief conversation with Atlanta, and I think I wasn’t supposed to.”

How did you hear that? I wasn’t trying to include any of you.

She’s been spending too much time with my son. Then she met Nyra, and it clicked. She can now read all our thoughts, whether sent to her or not.

All, Atlanta? Or just the ones we intend someone to hear?

I don’t know.

Ahh.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to control it. I don’t mean to butt in—”

Emma, it’s fine. It’s most interesting. You said you are a budding witch?

“Um, yes, Sir.”

Why were you and Wren bringing Avaysia through the forest in the first place? Don’t you children know how dangerous it is?

“Yes, Sir. It’s just that Avaysia’s getting married and—”

She must really love the guy if she’s willing to drag you all through those trees.

“Well, no, Sir. It’s more complicated than that.”

Complicated? She either loves the boy or she does not.

“She doesn’t.”

Then why the long road trip?

“Because I’m preventing a war,” Avaysia says. “I have a necklace that offers the wearer protection. The father of my betrothed believes that when I marry his son the power will transfer to him—my husband, I mean. Then my father-in-law will have my husband switch the necklace to him.”

And if your family doesn’t comply, they’ll wage a war?

“Yes.”

He’ll send troops through the forest?

“I guess so.”

It’s not going to work, Atlanta says.

Open-mindedness, Atlanta. Remember.

I’m not speculating and being pessimistic about possible outcomes. I know it won’t work.

And how do you know?

Because I gave Avaysia the necklace. Right after she met that horrible prince the first time. I knew what would happen, and I wanted to protect her. I didn’t know she’d be forced to marry that particular boy, but I knew someone somewhere would take her in exchange for peace. That’s the way these men work. That’s why humans disgust me so.

Interesting.

“You gave me this necklace?” Avaysia must be completely stunned. I know I am.

Yes. I was trying to help. Now I wonder if it was a bad idea.

“No, it was a great idea! Do you know how many times this thing has saved me? It saved my hands from horrible burns! Emma would’ve punched me into a pulp if I hadn’t been wearing it!”

Were you girls squabbling? Crayonta asks.

“You could say that,” I say.

“They were more than squabbling. They were trying to kill each other,” Wren tells him.

“Why do I miss all the fun?” Jake asks.

“I wasn’t here for this, either,” Bella replies. “But I don’t know if I’d call that fun. At least it’s better than the mind games the girls in my world play.”

“Trust me. They play them here, too,” I say. “I’d rather just punch someone, get punched, and be done with the whole thing.”

“Me, too.”

We’ve wandered a bit from the topic, don’t you think? Atlanta interrupts.

Just a little, Crayonta agrees.

“So, what’s our fate?” Bella asks.

“Bella! Don’t be so blunt about it. That’s how you tick off the royalty, or whoever is in charge.

“Sorry. I just wanted to know if we get to stay here a little longer of if they’re going to chuck us out.”

Well you certainly can’t stay here for too long. That boy of hers would worry, Crayonta says, nodding his horn at Avaysia. And we wouldn’t want that.

A little worry would do that boy some good.

Atlanta!

Sorry.

Emma, are you listening to this?

“Uh, maybe?”

Like saying that doesn’t incriminate her. Emma, if you wanted to lie (which would be a bad idea) you wouldn’t want to answer questions we say telepathically if you weren’t supposed to hear the question.

“But I don’t know what’s meant for all of us and what’s supposed to be secret! It’s not like you have to worry, though. I’m still trying to figure out what you’re talking about half the time!”

Are we confusing you?

“No, Crayonta, it’s just a lot to hold in my head. I’m really not used to being bombarded with telepathic messages that I may or may not be meant to heard.”

She did this when I first found them. Neverard and I were having a private conversation and she butted in. She blundered about, completely lost, interrupting everything. We had to push her out, and even though she claimed to be trying not to listen in, if felt like she was trying as hard as she could to stay in the converstation.

“Sorry!”

“There seems to be an awful lot of apologizing lately,” Jake observes. “And I’d still like to know if we get to stay or if we’re going.”

You may stay—

Crayonta, please—

Atlanta, enough. I know you mistrust the humans, and I do not blame you, not after what happened with Bal—”

“Do not speak his name!”

“I was going to think it, actually.” Atlanta hisses. Crayonta continues on with what he was saying. “However,” he says. “These are good and true children, and they will bring us no harm. Bella, Avaysia, Jake, Wren, and Emma, you are welcome to stay here for today and spend tonight in Big Oak with Nyra. Tomorrow, however, you must be on your way. I will send you with a unicorn to guide you. Good day.

I feel Crayonta disconnect himself from the mental network. Atlanta sends us one quick message before leaving as well.

Go.

We do.

We walk back down the stones and to the dirt path. It seems much longer than it did on the way up. Alycea and Aldain aren’t there when we get back, so we just follow the dirt trail back to our rose path.

When we get to Big Oak, Nyra is waiting for us.

“Do you ever go anywere else, Nymeria?” I ask.

“Yes,” she replies. “I have been everywhere in the Land of the Unicorns, and many places besides.”

“You always seem to be sitting here, playing your flute.”

“That is because I most enjoy this place. This is where I feel most connected with the world around me and the creatures in it. And my flute makes communication between the birds and myself easier.”

“And the unicorns enjoy your music.”

“Yes.”

We all stand there for a minute, not saying anything. Then a sparrow flies down and lights on Nyra’s shoulder. He chirps at her for a minute. I try and understand him the way I can the unicorns, but it’s harder.

Nyra talks to the bird with her flute, chirping out her own message. He hops to her hand, and she tosses him into the air. He flaps into the branches above.

“That sparrow brings me interesting news. He says that you, Emma, were listening in on every telepathic conversation here.”

“Not all of them.”

“But you could hear them all?”

“Yes. I was trying not to listen, but it’s really hard.”

“That is impressive. Even I cannot read that deeply into them.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It could be.”

“How come I can understand the unicorns, but not the bird?”

“The language of the birds is less complicated, and therefore less similar to the language you use. This makes it harder for you to pick up. But I will teach you.”

“You will?”

“No. Do you not recall this morning? You already possess the skill. You cannot be taught.”

“If I can already understand them, why can’t I tell what their saying?”

“Because you hear, but you do not listen.”

“What?”

“Leave us,” Nyra says to my friends. “This will be easier to explain to just her.”

“Can’t you teach the rest of us?” Bella asks.

Nyra looks irritated. “I am not teaching anyone anything.”

“Can’t you help us to listen? Help us to use the skill we already posses?” Bella is so eager, but Nyra is adamant.

“Go!” she says, pointing with her flute. “Now.”

Bella hangs her head and allows the others lead her away. I watch them depart, then turn back to Nyra. She is—yet again—sitting cross-legged on the ground, her flute to her lips. I sit across from her, waiting for her to say something. She doesn’t.

I sit there, staring at Nyra, willing her to do something other than play her flute. When I can’t stand it any longer, I reach out and gently tap her knee.

“Yes?” she asks.

“Are you going to teach me the song of the birds?”

“Just listen.”

She begins to play again. It doesn’t take long for the birds to call back. I try to relax and understand the chirps. I can tell by the pitch of the flute that they’re discussing something exciting. The less I try to focus, the more sense it makes.

Going to learn? the bird chirps.

I know not. She may; she’s more open than the others.

I want to say something, to let Nyra and the sparrow know I can hear them. But I don’t want to say it out loud. I wish I had a flute like Nyra.

I tap out my message on my knees. I’m here. I’m listening.

Welcome, Emma! the sparrow chirps.

Interesting choice of communication, Nyra comments.

Not like I have a flute. This was the best I could do.

I like it! It’s new! Original! The sparrow says everything excitedly, like everything is amazing and fresh.

We sit like that for a while, having a conversation through our minds. When the others get sick of wandering around and come back to check on us, we must make an interesting sight: Nyra and me sitting facing each other, her playing her flute, me tapping on my knees. The sparrow flaps around us, sometimes lighting on a head or shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?” Bella asks.

“Having a conversation with a sparrow.”

“You get weirder every time I see you,” Jake says.

“I thought that was Bella?”

“Her, too.”

For the first time, Nyra smiles.