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Chapter 6 - The Windenbeste

The first snow had fallen.

I woke up from the couch, my vulpine nose instantly catching the scent of rime and frost on the breeze, but as I looked out the window of Forseti’s living room, I was taken completely by surprise. What I expected to be a simple veneer of frost upon the foliage was instead a half-meter of snow that had blanketed the forest floor. The Upper Peninsula’s wintery reputation had immediately begun to seem earned.

I had been staying at the yellow fox’s home for a week at this point. The days were mostly filled with Forseti engaging in her various Apothecary tasks, as well as driving for DoorDash and editing podcast ephemera. I had grown accustomed to the mildewy scent that hung throughout the home, though it seemed to recede with the coming of winter. Forseti was also very visibly pregnant, but considering she was going to lay eggs instead of a live birth, it wasn’t too surprising how quickly that had come about. I had given up on studying for my classes. My life as a student had been entirely consumed by the black hole. But I did decide that I’d take a peek through the vixen’s meager magical library, in an attempt to absorb every detail of the Awngaimene society that I could. It was the only productive thing I could do while waiting for Marianne to show up with new information. We’d teleport over to Louisiana on the odd occasion to ask a few things, though she’d never come through to our side even once.

And so, a lot of the hours were also spent asleep. And conveniently, both of us lacked any particular urge to wake up before ten or eleven. So when the fox witch was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as soon as the sun rose, I knew immediately that the snow meant something.

“The Windenbeste is hunting!”

This was the first time that this particular supernatural name had come to my awareness, but I was already used to the fox’s habit of stating supernatural lore as if it was common knowledge, and then over-explaining it when my confusion became evident.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and spoke through a yawn, “What’s that?”

Forseti was making instant coffee, when normally she’d take the time to brew it as a pour over. “It’s crazy. So, it’s a magical creature that shows up on the first snowfall- well, that’s not the only time it shows up, but it’s a guaranteed encounter if you visit its hunting grounds, but it has the weirdest hunting habits. The Windenbeste can copy reality, and manifest a mirrored realm. That’s where it usually stays, but it can also send, like, prey to the realm, and that other dimension kind of just stretches forever. It’s a snowy forest with no ending that just repeats, and the Windenbeste kind of just starves its victims, so it can eat them without actually having to, you know, exert exercise in order to hunt.”

Where once I was rubbing my eyes, heavy with tiredness, they were now completely wide. “So, should we be worried, or-”

“Oh, no, this is incredible! The plants and stuff that grow in the little mirror dimension are fantastic for my Apothecary work!”

I let a small silence hang in the air for a brief moment. “That kind of seems like it’s… maybe not the safest thing a person can do.”

But Forseti waved her paws in a way to indicate that the situation was free of stress, “Oh, no, it’s totally safe. The Windenbeste kind of works by, like, feral black bear rules, you can probably beat it in a fight-”

That claim seemed dubious. “You can beat a black bear in a fight?”

“No, I mean, like, you can usually yell at them to scare them off. Same rules apply, this creature can do the whole space-warping thing, but it sucks at actual hunting. So if it traps a witch, such as myself, who has the right sort of spell to get out of the mirror realm, it’s completely foolproof.” Forseti patted her pregnant belly, “Otherwise I wouldn’t do it right now.” Thoroughly occupied with busywork, the energetic vulpine stuffed her backpack full of random nick-nacks. A few mason jars with herbs, a curved, pagan-looking knife, and the Wand of Sutures. The electric kettle, finished with its task of boiling water, let out a cloud of steam that drifted throughout the cabin.

I contemplated the situation a little. When it came to the previous adventure involving an entity composed entirely out of flies, I was a little morose to have missed seeing something like that with my own eyes. My curiosity towards the magical world churned within me like molten metals in a crucible, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally mold something made of steel.

“Would you mind if I came along on this one?”

Forseti cocked her head as she poured the boiling water into a thermos containing the instant coffee crystals, before bafflingly immediately taking a sip, even before she stirred it. The look on her muzzle indicated a regret towards that action. “Oh yeah, for sure! Just, like, make sure you stick close to me. I think the only thing that can go wrong is you getting pulled into the dimension without me, but you should be fine.”

“Thank you, I feel like- I don’t know, I’d like to see more magical things that aren’t actively trying to kill me personally.”

Forseti blinked. “But you do know that this thing is technically actively trying to kill you, right?”

“But it’s not personal, and that’s important to me.”

What Forseti did not tell me was that we had a bit of a drive ahead of us. Apparently, a Windenbeste was known to lay claim to a hunting ground around the northern tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula, somewhere around an unincorporated community known simply as Gay. A pawful of jokes were made, though they didn’t take the sting away from the fact that we had a two-and-a-half hour drive through punishing blizzard conditions ahead of us. And naturally, it was a far shorter distance than the one required to reach the state of Louisiana, but having just finished with a drive like that made any distance longer than an hour seem entirely daunting.

But Forseti had gotten quite used to the icy Upper Peninsula roads, and though we were by no means speeding towards our destination, we were able to make our way safely, even before ten-o’-clock. There was a small, pitiful excuse for a dirt parking lot just off of the road. A trailhead of sorts most likely used to stand here, but it was obvious that no maintenance had taken place for decades. The only remnants were a patchy field of snow-covered leaves, and lichen-eaten wooden posts with any semblance of wordage completely rotted away.

“So,” started the other fox as we climbed out of the vehicle, “Are you warm?” Lake effect snow continued to fall silently, despite its thick, fluffy nature. Forseti was bundled up in a comically thick, brown, polyester coat and black snowpants. “I know you’re an arctic fox, but I kind of don’t know if you’ve got, like, thermal fur instead of just camouflaging fur. I got another coat in the trunk if you need it.”

“Forseti, I’m wearing a coat.”

“Oh yeah, but I’m wearing two coats. I’d feel weird if I didn’t offer.”

“Why are you wearing two coats?”

“Florence, it’s called layering. Winter tactics.”

I chuckled a little, “I feel comfortable, Forseti, it’s fine. It’s actually not that much colder than Chicago- well, Chicago in actual winter. I’m used to this.” I took a sip from my own thermos. I asked for a coffee as well, before we left. “Actually, I can’t believe I forgot to ask this earlier, but what does the Windenbeste look like?”

Forseti wrapped a scarf around her neck, “Oh, it’s kind of stunning, weirdly. It’s got this canine-deer hybrid thing going on, but with a skull head, also antlers, also iridescent blue fur mixed in with normal brown-and-white fur, plus this old-school unicorn thing going on with the body shape. I’m talking book cover of The Last Unicorn. It’s probably one of the most graceful creatures I’ve seen.”

“Wait, are unicorns real?”

The fox witch contemplated this, “You know, I think so, but I can’t think of any actually confirmed cases now that I’m thinking about it.”

A bewildering answer, it was best to move on. “So, what’s the plan, then? We keep our eyes peeled for an elusive, fae being?”

“Oh, it’s definitely going to find us first. We kind of just gotta wander around until it does. Then we get the reagents, perform a ritual to get back here, hit the road, maybe get a few hot chocolates back in Houghton. I am cold.”

“How many times have you done this?”

“Like, more than four.”

That number was at least a little assuring. “I feel comfortable then- Actually, one more thing. Sorry, I’ve got all the questions today-”

“Nah, it’s fine. If a Fangdyne Tystwole didn’t ask a question every other sentence, I’d be suspicious.”

“If I do get split up from you, how would I perform the ritual?”

The crunching of boots on snow stopped, as did Forsy's gait. She turned towards me with a strange, dazed look, as though she were trying to reassure me while also explaining that such a task was completely unrealistic, “So, the Andle’ehnban Doorway is kind of related to the Temporal Doorway spell, the one we used to connect Marianne’s door with ours, but it specifically gets used to bring you out of artificial realms. Dark and mysterious forces love using artificial realms. It’s all here in this mason jar.” She patted at the backpack. I assumed the mason jar was inside.

It was time for me to pounce. “Is there any chance I could learn magic sometime soon?”

But instead of answering directly, Forsy laughed, “Honestly, I wouldn’t start with the Andle’ehnban Doorway. It’s not easy to pull off for someone’s first spell. Honestly, most Awngaimene have to use a prefabricated magic item so they can even get a feel for magic in the first place, and even then, it takes months to apply that to a complicated ritual. Just stick by me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

But then, the fox witch offered something that brought up a sense of hope within me. “Actually, here!” She unslung the backpack from her shoulders and passed it off to me. “I’ve got the Wand of Sutures in here, that’s probs the easiest thing to use first. It grafts damaged tissue to itself, so, like, you can practice with a broken branch. The Wand actually has an incantation that activates the spell, so it’ll help you, y’know, get a feel for how magic works. It’s, um ‘Aghliq Adja.’”

I repeated the phrase under my breath, but then Forseti beckoned, “Actually, do you mind if I hold onto the spell reagents? If one of us gets trapped, it’d probably be best if I held onto it.”

Memories of the fox’s previous hackneyed plans flashed through my mind, but I wasn’t about to lose my nerve now. “There’s no way this can go wrong, right?”

“I feel completely confident, though if you’re worried, we totally don’t have to do this right now.”

I steeled my nerves and went for a lighthearted, comedic attitude. “Forseti, I’m not going to worry. Especially considering the amount of foreshadowing we’re doing right now, it feels inevitable anyway. I’ve made my peace.”

The vixen’s eyes went wide, “Don’t say that, I can actually predict the future.”

“Oh, damn- You said that sort of thing is only intentional, right?”

“No, I did not say that.”

Again, I steeled my nerves, and fished through the backpack, looking for the mason jar. “There’s only the one jar, right?”

“Yes! And it’s annoying, because I can’t burn it.” Forseti turned and traipsed forward, and I followed clumsily behind throughout the deep drifts of freshly fallen snow.

My paw failed to come into contact with anything made of glass, so I stuck my head in the bag to look further. There was a cornucopia of camping gear, though I shouldn’t have been too surprised. The vixen stylized herself as an amateur wilderness survivor.

But then, everything turned black. I pulled my face away to find a sky and forest, drenched in darkness. Forseti completely vanished from my sight. I could only make out the trees directly in front of, and to the sides of myself. The rest of the forest was awash in darkness, and it took a moment for my nocturnal eyes to adjust to the sudden shift. It didn’t help that the inky black of space was completely devoid of stars.

At first, I was in a stupor. I thought that a strand of fur had landed in my eyes, or that I was passing out for no particular reason, but it didn’t take longer than a couple of seconds for me to realize.

Strangely enough, my first impulse was the same one that I felt earlier. I needed to keep my resolve. I needed to make sure that I didn’t panic, first and foremost. I fumbled through my coat pockets for my phone, trying to activate its flashlight to get a glimpse of my immediate surroundings. I wasn’t expecting the Windenbeste’s realm to be as dark as it was. I hadn’t exercised my nocturnal eyes as much as I could have.

My phone illuminated a simple forest, covered in winter’s snow. Only the bright white of the ice and the dull brown of the tree bark manifested in the darkness. The only real noticeable difference between this realm’s weather and the reality I was ripped away from was the fact that it had stopped snowing. I scanned the imposing arboreal monoliths for any sign of the Windenbeste, but I was entirely without success.

Don’t panic yet. You’re not dead yet. I kept repeating those thoughts to myself, a mantra to keep my head cooled. A malicious chill threatened to sneak underneath my skin, but my species were prepared for this climate more than most. And in regards to prepared foxes, the Windenbeste had left me with the entirety of Forseti’s supplies. I fixed the phone flashlight towards the rucksack and took inventory, setting the supplies gingerly unto the snow if I deemed them waterproof enough.

The fox witch definitely overpacked. Maybe she thought it would be better to be safe than sorry, should contingencies fall through, and I silently thanked her for that impulse. There were a couple of mason jars and cloth sachets, stuffed with various herbs and reagents. Only one of them had the label “AB Doorway” written in green Sharpie. The unassuming Wand of Sutures was wrapped in a cheesecloth, and a curved boline sat inside a sheath, but there were more than mere magical reagents available. The fox had brought a folded space blanket, a few water bottles, a few candles, a small shovel, a strange wooden block that seemed to be used for firestarting, a small first aid kit, a box of matches, a few protein bars, a bit of rope, and a small spiral notebook labeled Random Magical Notes Journal #7 I Think: Property of Forseti Fox.

I scoured the notebook for any clue as to how one might perform the Andle’ehnban Doorway spell. A majority of the contents within the journal were field notes, a few magical recipes, and weirdly, words that looked like song lyrics, but the text was tragically lacking in any fully-explained spell procedure. Don’t panic yet. You’re not dead yet.

A stray thought threatened to infiltrate my psyche. You’ve never performed magic before. You don’t know nearly enough about magic to pull off a spell like this. I had to push it aside. I scanned the treeline once more. The Windenbeste was nowhere to be found. Though what could be done at this point? Could I wait for Forsy to come? She only had the means to pull off the spell once, and those very means were passed off to me, just as I was snatched from reality. Maybe the Windenbeste would attempt to hunt the fox, and she could open up the Andle’ehnban Doorway right away. But a strange thought occurred to me. Why would the beast take me, and me alone? Why hadn’t it taken Forseti yet?

So, maybe Forseti would go back to Marquette, acquire new reagents, and return to pull the spell off? There’d be a reasonable amount of time before I thirst to death. Though I imagine she’d try to convince the beast to make herself its quarry before fetching supplies and leaving me to my fate. There was no way to tell. There were no contingencies that I was made aware of. The beast worked remarkably quickly. Though I had little doubt that getting captured would be the only reason that the fox would stay. There was no world in which she was expecting me to perform the spell myself.

I saw my breath in the air, hanging like a fleeting, tiny cloud. I thrust my paws into my pockets. Despite the fact that I was wearing gloves, the tips of my pawpads had started to become cold.

Fire. I could at least start a fire, before doing anything else. I had no worries about running out of food or water at the moment, but even an arctic fox needed the means to keep warm. It wasn’t as though I had a feral fox’s capacity to dig a burrow. I stuck the box of matches into my pocket as well, careful to keep them as far away from any moisture as I could, but I had no real clue how to start a fire, other than gather sticks and throw them into a pile. Thankfully, wooden sticks were one of the few supplies in surplus in this mirror dimension, so I traipsed about the woods, collecting any that fell on top of the snowdrifts.

I do not make it a habit of regularly visiting forests on winter nights, but the silence was jarring. I thought that I would maybe hear at least a breeze, or maybe even the sounds of tree branches rattling, but the dimension was devoid of wind, or at least any audible wind.

About thirty minutes had passed, the thick piles of snow doing me no favors in regards to swift movement, but I held a bushel of sticks under my arm. I didn’t think there was any world in which I could light a fire on top of the snow. I took the shovel, and cleared a sizable circle in which to drop my sticks. Leaning entirely on my assumptions, I took the strange block of densely-packed wood shavings and placed it in the center. I then proceeded to light a few candles, in order to preserve as many matches as possible, and held them underneath the branches, hoping they’d light. Maybe they were too thick, or too wet, or maybe even too frozen. I don’t know nearly enough about wilderness survival to have done this process seemingly, but the branches only charred and smoked gently, failing to catch fire. But I had an idea.

Forseti’s little notebook was full of empty pages towards the back, and I took a great pawful, intending to use them as fuel for the flames. They caught fire immediately, when exposed to the candle, and the intense blaze, as ephemeral as it lasted, was enough to light the strange block on fire almost right away. It almost looked like magic. Without any difficulty, the remainder of the branches managed to catch. Soaking up the new warmth, and basking in the new glow, I sat cross-legged in front of the fire.

It’s funny, the memories from early childhood that stick in your brain.

“Mommy, but there aren’t any stars in the sky!”

But that was a lie. There are always stars in the sky. Living in the city robs you of your ability to see them with the naked eye. My mother had set up a telescope in the backyard, on a spring night absent of clouds.

“My child. My amazing, smart, curious child, do you know what this is?”

“Telescope! Telescope!” Mrs. Emeret taught us that at pre-school.

“Very smart,” The fox used my deadname, “now, we can’t see the deepest depths of the universe when we’re this close downtown. But, look, dear. I can show you the constellations at least.” She beckoned me to the telescope, and with an eagerness only found in a curious child, I scrambled towards the device. She showed me the shapes, and told me the names. Pisces. Sagittarius. Draco.

“That, my dear, is Casseopia.”

And that name was familiar, often told in bedtime stories. But those bedtime stories were no mere Greek myths. When my mother told them, something was different.

“The Archwitch of Aethiopia!” I cried out eagerly.

An antique, weather-worn notebook lay open at my mother’s paws. The older fox was quick to slam it shut and tuck it under her arm. Perhaps she meant to tell me the bedtime story once more, but something had changed. I spoke too fluidly. I’d gotten too old.

But despite her swiftness at hiding the book, my mother was quick to pivot, gently cooing, “Shh, shh,” placing her paws on my shoulder, “very good, my child. The most powerful witch of the Sahara!” For indeed, the Aetheopia of antiquity stretched out further than the boundaries of the modern nation of the same name.

And Casseopia could carve the moon and bend the stars to her will. Or so said the notebook.

“Mom, teach me magic!”

The warmth once again drained from the elder arctic fox’s face. The line of her muzzle thinned, but she didn’t speak without love. “My bright, intelligent, curious child, why do you want to know so much about magic?”

“Mommy, I wanna learn magic! I wanna learn magic!” She wouldn’t budge. And of course! I had forgotten my manners. I was old enough to worry about manners now. “Please, mom? Please?”

But the fox crossed her arms, and spoke with what I remember as sadness. “Magic is scary, dear-” The fox used my deadname. “And it’s- Magic is wonderful, and lets you do so many amazing, incredible things, but there are so many scary monsters, and scary people, who are twice as strong as your mommy. Even stronger.” I stared upon Casseopia once more. I wasn’t paying attention to her completely, though I remember her words now. However, there was no use in listening. I knew my mother was only making up ghost stories to keep me from getting curious. “How do I learn magic, mommy?”

She sighed, “My smart, little fox kit. Magic is scary- Magic is being scared, and the more scared you become, the easier it becomes for you to- to do magic. You don’t want to be scared, do you, my little fox?”

“I wanna learn magic!”

The fox sighed. It’s funny, the memories from early childhood that stick in your brain.

In hindsight, I couldn’t imagine why my own mother wouldn’t want me to learn magic. I had little doubt that she was only making up the notion that being afraid helps you cast spells easier, but I never figured out why she kept me from it. I know that I begged daily for my mother to divulge her secrets. My thoughts wandered as I reminisced, staring into my fire. The warm, smoky scent of burning wood almost felt nostalgic, even though my mother and I never once camped, let alone owned a fireplace. Maybe the scent of fire is nostalgic unto itself.

But doubt flared up, like a tendril of smoke from the fireplace I sat beside. Everyone around me had taken for granted the fact that my mother was still alive, but it didn’t change the fact that Marianne failed to explain a single aspect of the situation. Only a day ago, I asked Forseti why we didn’t simply drive down to my mother’s house in Chicago, now that the Shadow was eviscerated, and she even had her key in the ignition before it struck the vixen that she should ask Marianne first. So she asked her, then promptly canceled the plans, and I was left in the dark.

I didn’t hold any resentment, nor did I trust the cat blindly. She reminded me of my mother, in the way that the Sphynx kept her secrets. And I knew it wasn’t without reason, but a feeling of anguish welled up inside of me that always manifested whenever I couldn’t know something. An anxiety over being left in the dark. It wasn’t a hateful anxiety, just a cold, hollow, inward feeling. A numbness, and an acceptance. I saw in Marianne and Forseti’s interactions that the cat was as tight-lipped over her plans with the other fox as she was with me. Only a longer length of time together allowed the fox to know more about the cat, though I couldn’t help but notice that the two sometimes spent time alone behind closed doors. I had no idea what the clutch of gargoyle eggs was about.

I was lost in my thoughts too much, so when I looked up to see a skulled face staring back at me from the other side of the fire, I startled immediately, frantically spasming. I kept quiet though. Don’t panic yet. You’re not dead yet.

The Windenbeste was as Forseti described, donning a beautifully-colored coat of fur, and shaped as lithely as a professional ballerina, though it would be a lie if I said that the skull and antlers weren’t the first things I noticed. What Forseti failed to describe was a sickly, yellow glow radiating from the skull’s empty eye socket. There was only one eye.

As soon as I returned the creature’s gaze, it almost started to back off, gingerly walking a hindleg towards the treeline. Though I was very much in shock, and unable to move or even think, it was clear that the Windenbeste possessed an equally anxious demeanor. As soon as I moved my own legs to position myself for a quick getaway, the creature acted first, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Forseti had failed to mention another thing before I was vanished. The Windenbeste wasn’t an unintelligent feral animal. I could almost sense what felt like planning and cunning when looking into the single, yellow eye. The creature was checking up on me.

I scoured Forsy’s journal once more for any notes on the Windenbeste, and came up empty-pawed. I remember her saying that the beast wasn’t particularly strong, but I couldn’t automatically deduce if I’d win a fight against it, let alone the fact that killing the beast would likely strand me here. But something told me that the creature wasn’t going to simply let me freeze to death. A flutter of panic welled up in my breast. You’re not dead yet.

The Wand of Sutures. The Andle’ehnban Doorway was out of reach, but a simpler magic tool could help me get a feel for magic, and maybe even figure out another spell from the journal. Maybe I could learn how to subdue the creature, or at the very least, fend off an attack. But I had to learn magic first.

I retrieved a mostly-unsinged branch from the fire and snapped it in half. I then proceeded to fetch the wrapped wand from the backpack, holding it aloft in my right paw. I aimed it at the broken stick, unsure whether or not it had to be touching, and bellowed out “Aghliq Adja.”

Even though I tried to free my mind from any expectation, I was completely taken aback by how the wielding of magic felt. I felt the presence of others, not necessarily in the forest, and not necessarily within my mind, but in my arms, and paws, and bones, and sinews. I felt as though I allowed some other entity complete control over my muscles. It felt like they could manipulate my entire body like a puppet, and were simply choosing not to. My arm felt numb, like an article of clothing, like it was someone else’s appendage, simply coming into contact with my tissues and nervous system at the shoulder. And I felt nauseous. There was a brief flash of absolute disorientation, but it fizzled into mundane head discomfort.

The branch was once again whole.

I picked it up, and waved it around to see how well the spell had worked, and like I suspected, the branch snapped once again at the seams. My spellcraft, it seemed, was lackluster work. And so, I held the Wand of Sutures towards the two portions, and once again shouted, “Aghliq Adja.”

This time, the nausea and headache lessened, but not the feeling of losing control. I contemplated taking a break, it was a wholly uncomfortable sensation. But I had to commit to getting used to this feeling. It dawned on me that I never explicitly asked Forseti where magic came from, and I was dreading to hear the answer.

I waved the stick around again, looking rather foolish, and once more, it snapped at the seam within seconds. I had to try again. Even though the literal nausea was fairly nonexistent, the fact that it felt as though something else could control my body was too much to bear, and I threw up into the snow, making sure to avoid the fire. I had started to shiver, both from the effects of vomiting, in addition to the uncomfortable sensation tied to the Wand of Sutures. I wiped my muzzle on my sleeve, before wrapping myself up in Forsy’s space blanket. Don’t panic yet. You’re not dead yet.

I took a swig of water. “Aghliq Adja!” The feelings persisted. The branch was restored. I hadn’t even focused on what it was that I could do to strengthen the magic, I was just trying to get used to the feeling. I waved it around once more, and it snapped.

So what could I focus on? Was magic strengthened by intention? Or practice? Or simply the tools I had available to me? These questions would find no answer in this abandoned, frigid forest, and Forseti’s madcap writings would fail to illuminate further.

Something did catch my eye, though, towards the middle of the book that I had missed before.

“OK, so the Oigd’yiadttigdeit’s whole thing is that it can, like, transform biological material into other biological material, and so I went to visit Jouxlya, Marianne gets weird about the transformation magic if it isn’t the spell actively giving me a pussy. We found samples of its blood. Also, it turns out that when it dries, it looks like lichen chips? That didn’t make sense, but the biological-whatever didn’t amalgamate like everything else it touches. I really hope no one reads this journal because holy fuck I suck at taking notes. But! Jouxlya thinks this could be a transformation magic reagent? We’d have to invent a spell, but this could be a fun project for later. I’ll tell Hawthorn that I sought out the Oigd’yiadttigdeit soon. I feel like an asshole, but I bet it’d sting less if I can figure out this spell.”

One sentence stuck out in my brain. “We’d have to invent a spell”. Of course it’s not as if certain words can manifest magic all by themselves. But I never thought about how a spell comes into being, and though I had no clue why they’d work, I knew that an animal could figure out how they work easily enough. And sure enough, one of the mason jars’ lids in the fox’s backpack read “Oigd’yiadttigdeit.” And whatever that thing was, I had its blood in my possession.

Maybe the strength of magic was about intention. But maybe it was about desire as well. I couldn’t care less if a broken branch was restored. There was something I really wanted.

I poured a pawful of the strange, dried chips of blood into my gloved paw and stood before the fire. I was focusing on intention. I was focusing on desire. I was submitting to whatever it was that magic was made from. I almost felt silly, like I was reading from a book on Wicca from some mainstream bookstore, throwing salt around like some child. This was something new, and I had to banish the thoughts of doubt, of silliness, of shame. I stretched my arm out above the crackling fire.

“Forces of magic, I beseech thee! Alter my physical form, transform my chromosomes- and transform me into a biological female!”

But the silliness crept back. I chose the simplest way to phrase my request, outside of actually naming the anatomical body parts in question. I also refrained from trying to pronounce the word “Oigd’yiadttigdeit” out loud. I poured every intention and every desire into shaping magic to my whim, but I couldn’t beat back the notion that this plan was hackneyed and dumb, even though I knew the spell was possible. The dried chips of blood crackled in the fire, and nothing happened. And all the same, I felt ill and hollow.

So what now? I could really only wait for Forseti, if she was even able to come up with any sort of plan. I knew now that it would be impossible for me to perform the Andle’ehnban Doorway, and I would only burn up the fox witch’s already meager supplies in the process. My stomach growled. Had I already been in this dimension long enough to become hungry? Though I doubted the accuracy of my phone’s internal clock in this mirror dimension, the clock still ticked away, probably still in Michigan’s time zone while it was unable to update, showing two-o’-clock. I just wished I checked the time before I was snatched away.

I reached for one of the protein bars, but pulled my paw back. Maybe I should ration out my food a little. Maybe I’ll be trapped in this dimension for more than I initially predicted.

And maybe I was starting to panic, and maybe I was starting to think less rationally, but it didn’t matter if I rationed my food. I wasn’t going to starve before dehydrating or freezing to death. One of the bars was an oatmeal, chocolate-chip, almond bar, boasting an absurd amount of calories. Probably due to Forsy’s fungal curse. I removed my glove to tear into the plastic wrapper, but that’s when I had a thought.

Maybe I needed to physically touch the reagents? Maybe the glove got in the way? It felt like it wasn’t that potent of an obstacle, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t have the time to experiment. Whatever this being was, it couldn’t have been too hard to harvest its blood.

And so, I stood before the fire once more, fully intending to keep my composure as serious and stoic as possible, and with the mason jar in my left paw, I poured the dried blood into my right.

I expected to feel the same sensation as the Wand of Sutures. I was wrong. Instead, the blood burned and seared my flesh, or at least that’s what it felt like. The pain was visceral, and it felt as though my paw was getting flayed, and when I looked at it, it wasn’t just my nerves that were getting mutilated. My fur didn’t fall off, but almost sank into the pads of my paws, and I could feel my digits tightening, becoming smaller, thinner, longer. I felt my digits extend, and the sensation that came with it was unbearable. I screamed, running my vocal cords ragged, and the transformation continued. I could feel my paw becoming almost heavier, and certainly harder, and what looked like twisting, bubbling flesh had started to turn almost into definite scales. And yes, after a few seconds, they were indeed scales, a muddled, dark-green, glistening in the firelight, and burning with the same heat. I was on the verge of passing out from the pain, when an unassuming plan brought me out of my state of shock. I plunged my paw into a snowbank, desperate to bring a chill to the burning sensation, and though it took a while, the horrifying pain finally started to recede. I tried to catch my breath and keep from falling unconscious.

I pulled out my paw from the snow and held it aloft in the light of the fire, a dizzy sensation taking over in my brain. My paw had completely transformed into a reptile’s scaled claw, up to the middle of my forearm. I was completely unable to explain what had just happened.

But then, I noticed something shifting behind the fire, and focused my eyes away from my new claw towards the forest. The Windenbeste had returned.

No doubt, my sudden screaming had attracted its attention if it were lurking in this dimension. But all the same, it had returned to check up on me.

Don’t panic yet. You’re not dead yet.

You don’t want to be scared, do you, my little fox?

I was afraid, though. I was afraid. What, I am to think courage alone is the thing that’s going to keep me alive? Just because I can be brave, or amicable, or level-headed, I can get what I want? Such a naive sentiment, to think a steadfast mindset is the only thing one needs to deserve everything. I grabbed the backpack, and ran away from the fireplace. I didn’t even take a second glance to see if the Windenbeste would take chase, nor did I use my sense of smell to catch its scent on the nonexistent breeze. I just ran, for a full minute, arms extended to keep from running into trees. My heart was pounding and my breath was raspy, basically choking on the frozen air. And I started to cry. I should be prepared for this. I should be ready for this strange magical world, for horrifying situations such as these, and instead, I cried.

I didn’t cry for long, though. I didn’t want to attract the Windenbeste to my location. No sound rang out in the woods beside my own whimpering. I looked around pointlessly, for my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the new darkness, but my fireplace was nowhere in sight. I don’t know if I was enacting any real plan, or if I was just desperate. “Magic is fear.” my mother told me. I had spent the entirety of my life, scrounging for the crumbs of esoteric lore, hidden in the world. I made a vow with my friends to discover real magic in the world, and share it immediately. Obsession held a firm grasp on my life, and even at that moment, I knew I would never actively try to shuffle off its hold on my life. I could never learn any lesson from fear. Maybe it was a ghost story to keep my curiosity at bay, or maybe it was true, but I grabbed blindly through Forseti’s backpack, grabbed a mason jar, shined my phone flashlight to see if it was the right one, and let out an immense sigh when I grabbed the correct jar on my first try. I unscrewed the lid, careful not to spill any of the reagents in the case that I failed. Through closed eyes, sobs, and sniveling, I uttered my spell.

“Forces of magic, bring me back to the real world, now!”

I opened my eyes. The forest was still covered in darkness.

“Send me back to the real world, I beg of you!”

No daylight threatened to infiltrate the dark wood.

“Send me back, now, any entity that can hear me!”

Cold. Dark. Quiet.

I sobbed quietly, choking back every noise and swallowing constantly, with a great deal of difficulty at every gulp. Every single one of my brain cells was focused on suffering this panic attack as quietly as possible. I had panicked, but I wasn’t dead yet.

An indiscernible amount of time passed. I blinked the tears from my eyes, desperate to retrain them on the lightless realm. I focused hard on slowing the rate of my quickened breathing. The Windenbeste had pursued me, but failed to catch up. It wasn’t to be assumed that it would defeat me in a fight. Black Bear rules.

But I was stranded in the dark, completely unable to make out where my fire was lit. It would be the only fire I had any reasonable chance at lighting. Doubt lurked in my mind. What chance had I of defeating an allegedly weak creature if I couldn’t even see it in the first place? Though that wasn’t entirely correct, because I still had one other source of light.

I scrambled for my phone, regardless of whether or not I wasted its battery, and though for a moment, I feared giving away my position, the Windenbeste had too great an advantage in sheer darkness, impenetrable by even my vulpine vision. I unlocked the screen and activated the flashlight. My cold digits were slow to open the phone. I scrambled about on it as though shining the flashlight would bring me home. I only wanted to go home. I just needed to see the mason jar.

A skull with a single-yellow eye began to inch its way towards my face. I shut my eyes.

“Please, no, please!”

I felt the wind first, bristling the fur on my face. And then I felt cold precipitation. Light fluffy snow melting wherever it landed. And then, I could sense through my eyelids that light had once again returned to the world.

I was in the forest, in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, in the real world.

And the first thing I heard was a voice, raspy and hoarse, but still committed to shouting out loud with full volume. “Where are you? Take me! I submit- I submit to getting eaten! Go ahead and eat me!”

It was Forseti’s voice.

I climbed to my feetpaws, struggling to find my balance, though I did find it eventually. My scaled hand was met with an unpleasant chill when I pressed it into the snow, and I quickly thrust my glove back on. I didn’t know if my blood would circulate to my new, cold-blooded appendage. Though I was screaming bloody murder earlier, I still had enough of my voice to respond to the other fox’s. “Forseti, I’m here! I’m back!”

There wasn’t even a second of pause before Forsy answered, “Florence, holy fuck, you did it!”

I had done it. I had successfully performed the Andle’ehnban Doorway.

Or so I thought, until I looked at the mason jar in my other paw, and noticed that it was still completely filled with herbs.

None of that mattered, though. I was once again a denizen of reality, safe from starvation. I trudged through the thickly piled snow towards the sound of Forsy’s voice. “I’m coming towards you now!” The snow fell gingerly. It was time to leave.

“So,” inquired the yellow-furred vixen, “you think you pulled the spell off on your own? Without reagents?”

The snow continued to fall, and the roads had become especially treacherous. Forseti didn’t even drive above twenty-five miles-per-hour. We were probably going to wait out the night in a hotel in Houghton, after acquiring much needed food and hot chocolate.

“I don’t know, I did manage to get the Wand of Sutures to work, sort of, so I know I can work magic.”

But the fox turned the corner of her muzzle up, suspicious of that claim. “You said you pulled it off right before the Windenbeste attacked you, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think- You can tell me if this is wrong, but I remember something my mother told me, about fear making one’s magic more powerful.”

Forseti kept her eyes on the road, and answered a question other than the one I asked. “I mean, I don’t wanna harsh your vibe. If you did pull off the Andle’ehnban Doorway, that’s rad as hell. But maybe-” Her voice trailed off, “I don’t know, maybe the Windenbeste just took pity on you or something, and sent you back? When you came back to reality, did it, y’know, feel like when you used the Wand?”

A knot tightened in my chest. She was definitely referring to the chilling feeling tied to magic. “So, you feel that feeling too?”

A brief silence hung in the air, and then: “Yeah, that’s a thing. You get used to it, though.”

“Forseti, what exactly is magic?”

Another brief silence. “That’s the question, isn’t it? I know this answer sucks, but we have no idea where it comes from.” The quiet hum of the car’s engine sang on.

“Should I worry that it’s… that it’s something bad?”

“Oh, no, no! It’s- I mean, there are pretty malicious beings and entities out there, for sure. But we’ve been doing- When I say ‘we,’ I mean the Awngaimene- we’ve been working magic for milenia, pretty problem-free. Wherever magic comes from, there’s no way it’s evil.” And then Forseti laughed, like she was about to make a joke instead of a particularly horrifying statement, “And even if it was this incredible long con to take over mortal life, if it hasn’t happened throughout the entirety of anthro-animal civilization, it probably isn’t going to just happen tomorrow. So we’re good.”

The engine hummed. The snow fell. I decided to steel my resolve instead of questioning the fox’s blasé attitude towards a theory like that. But then again, perhaps my gut reaction was unwarranted. Forseti literally bound her will towards an actual, tangible fungal entity, and turned out alright. If there were such a thing as a general entity acting as the source of all magic, it wasn’t as if I was some exception to its perennial benevolence. But could I learn to get used to the feeling of surrendering control of my body?

I changed the subject, “So you think the Windenbeste- What, took pity on me, and sent me back here?”

Forseti shrugged, keeping both paws on the wheel. “I mean- OK, so this is a crazy theory, but when I was in the woods, it appeared before me, and looked me in the eye for a while, a long while.”

“It did the same for me.”

“And I always assumed it was this wild animal with a magical ability, but it was as if-”

“Yeah! I know what you’re about to say! There was some sort of wisdom in its eyes.”

The other fox nodded assuredly. “Exactly! And here I’m sitting, thinking to myself, ‘Alright, you got me, send me to the realm, I gotta get Florence,’ but it, y’know, didn’t do that. And I thought that maybe it recognized me? It knew I could escape? And then it just disappeared, freaked me out a little.” Forsy sighed a little, “Sorry I got you into this, underestimated everything and- well, everything.”

“Forseti, I’m the one that asked to come along.”

“You saying that is gonna sound a lot less comforting if you end up dying- Sorry, that was morbid.”

But I chuckled instead, “It’s fine. Hey, at least you still have the means to perform a teleportation spell, if you need it still!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a next month thing. I’ve got to study up on this bitch a little more, I think.”

“That makes sense.”

The engine hummed. The snow fell softly. I wasn’t dead yet.

A day had passed. I decided it was time.

I opened the door, and immediately saw the gargoyle, Palais, tidying up the old hallway with a feather duster. He bowed politely, “Hello, ma’am. I do believe Madame Marianne’s in her study, if you’d like me to fetch for her.” His voice was as gentle and articulate as ever, the faint European affectation still audible, though it was still strange to hear from a living gothic grotesque. He no longer felt uncomfortable in his nudity, it seemed.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

I made my way to the lounge, sitting upon a chaise. Marianne came quickly, looking thoroughly annoyed at nothing in particular. “What do you want?” She wasted no time with pleasantries. I was afraid I was interrupting her work.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I’ve decided I want to ask you, specifically-”

“Do try to get to the point as quickly as possible. If this is about your mother-”

“Marianne, I want you to teach me magic.”

That stopped her mid-sentence. I almost expected to receive derision from interrupting the hairless cat, but her face instead dissolved into a new expression. What exactly that expression meant was impossible to deduce, the Sphynx was as unreadable as ever, but she sounded less annoyed. Just plainly-spoken.

“You seem to be under the impression that I’m some sort of Merlin, that magic can only be learned through Apprenticeship. There are-” She waved her paw idly, searching for the words, “-libraries in Marquette, seminars, workshops. The Mulgywai can give you the resources you need.”

“But I’d like for you to be the one to teach me.”

Marianne kept her stoicism constant, but instead of outright refusing, she simply asked, “Why me?”

I removed my glove to show off my scaled claw, something I hadn’t even shown to Forseti yet. “Because you know the sort of magic that can change my body.”

I heard the slightest, drawn-out exhale from the cat’s nose, “And you performed this on your own?”

“No, I used- um, I used a reagent, that I found while- I don’t think I know how to pronounce the name-”

“That doesn’t matter. And I’m assuming you already know the inherent difficulty involved with that particular entity?” She held out a paw, “Let me see your claw.”

I gave the feline my new appendage, but she refused to touch it, simply holding it up with the metal ball tip of her cane. She brought my arm up in front of her old-timey lamps to inspect it. “Yeah, I don’t think the Mulgywai know a lot about this sort of magic, but you do.” I stated, filling the silence.

“I do, indeed.” She traced a claw at the border where fur and scales met, brushing the fur aside to look at the skin underneath. “And you’re aware that I gain absolutely nothing from an exchange like this? You’re comfortable asking me for outright charity?”

I cringed a little, “I’d be willing to do anything you asked-”

“Don’t make pacts with me. I’m just an old woman.” She gently pulled her paws away, and proceeded to study my face intently, almost as if the Foulgydan held mistrust towards me for some reason. “You don’t completely lack skill. Half of the beasts I know would fail to drum up a reaction from the Oigd’yiadttigdeit-” She pronounced the name in a way that clearly indicated that a sizeable portion of the letters were silent, “-And the other half would have died on the spot.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Oh, don’t let me bully you into one of those people that apologize every other sentence, nothing annoys me more.” Marianne sighed, “I have one last question. What is your intention?”

I swallowed hard, prepared to face potential transphobia if the cat’s political demeanor was as old as her body. In my anxiety, I had completely forgotten that she was quite progressive in regards to Forseti. “I want to biologically transition into a woman.”

But the Sphynx’s gaze softened completely, and she almost smiled, “Oh, well that’s a good reason.” She even laughed a little, a sound I’d never heard the furless cat make before. “Damn, forgive me for coming across as suspicious, it’s just- Well, it’s not important.”

“Oh, I didn’t assume that at all.” Though what the feline Foulgydan would be suspicious about, I hadn’t the slightest clue.

“The tradition of taking on an Apprentice is old and archaic. As I said, it is very rarely practiced these days. The practice was used far before Chaaya of the Waxing Moon unified the Awngaimene, so there isn’t a name for it, but it’s a binding practice, and lasts until either of us dies. It’s important that you follow the rules vigorously. And do know, with this form of magic being as strange as it is, and with me being a Frote Foulgydan, there is no other way for me to teach you.”

I steeled my resolve. “I agree to these terms.”

“Don’t agree to the terms until you fucking read them.” Marianne collected herself. “I’ll organize things on my end, there are a few reading materials you’d need to look at, but-” A quick exhale escaped her nose. “I’ll consider taking you on as my Apprentice.”

“Thank you.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve said ‘yes.’”

I steeled my nerves, preparing myself mentally for an onslaught of this behavior in the future. “Or, um- Thank you for considering it.”

The cat cast a gaze out of her window, towards the humid, verdant bayou. I could tell she was avoiding my gaze more than she was looking at something in particular. “Thank me when you get what you want.”