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Chapter 11 - Zuma and the Teleraine Academy

Zuma the Puma had just landed at Sawyer International Airport. Marquette’s tiny little airstrip really only had flights going to Chicago and Detroit, but the latter city made for a convenient enough flight connection for the cat who began his journey in Boston.

A heavy sleet tormented the tarmac, and the mid-afternoon flight was delayed by thirty minutes. The mycelium underneath my skin started to ache as the temperature shifted. But no amount of minor discomfort or small delay could have stopped my tail from wagging like a flag in a hurricane. As soon as the puma had crossed the gate’s threshold, I was already mid-pounce.

“Hey hun!” I shouted, before jamming my muzzle into his for a kiss. After riposting with a light peck, Zuma repeated, “Hello, hun!”

I retrieved a plastic water bottle that I picked up from a gas station. Out of fear of flying, the puma never got a flight without also booking WIFI, and as it turned out, they skipped drink service on both flights, much to the dismay of the puma’s parched muzzle. He practically swallowed half of the water by the time he noticed Florence behind me.

“It’s good to meet you finally, Zuma,” spoke the arctic fox, who was very eager to meet the big cat. I would have insisted that I pick up Zuma by myself if it weren’t for the fact that…

“Forseti, new-friend-of-Forseti’s, thank you for picking us up.” A scrawny, chestnut-furred pine marten, dressed in a gray button-up and a black tie, as if he worked in middle management, and accompanied the ensemble with wiry glasses with small, perfect circles for the lenses. He extended his paw for a firm shake. This was Zuma’s roommate and mission partner, Clare, of House Bondwynn.

The four of us were jammed into the lush-colored booths at Marquette’s Taco Bell. The decor was dappled with hues that reminded me of Arizona; a state I’d never really visited. It’s hard for me to be in a desert for long, considering my fungal disposition.

When I lived in Chicago, the puma and I made a point to visit the famous Chicago-Style pizza place, Giordano’s, every time the feline flew into town. Naturally, Marquette was lacking in Chicago-Style pizza places, and the connection was often in Detroit instead, so Taco Bell took over for that tradition. The country of Germany is completely devoid of Taco Bell, and considering the fact that Zuma was originally born there, he’d developed an infatuation with the Mexican fast food chain since moving overseas. Naturally, being American, I came into the world with a Taco Bell infatuation organically developed.

And now, we were sharing that tradition with Florence and Clare. After all, Zuma was enrolled with the Teleraine Academy, and it was very tricky to ask for time away from the mysterious institution’s obligations without a good reason. The Academy was apparently investigating “a matter that led to a significant amount of damages,” though I was not privy to that matter’s details. All I knew was that it involved Marquette. Naturally, Zuma was quick to jump onto that assignment if it meant that he could visit me. But the members of the Academy are a suspicious bunch, and never send a single pupil to do an investigation alone. Ergo, the pine marten was sent to carry out the mission as well, by merit of being Zuma’s roommate. The whole system had a weird Mormon vibe to it.

But the puma and the pine marten had a whole three days to carry out the investigation before their return flight, and we could relax for a moment, not that I didn’t notice Clare’s constant tapping paws and quick-spoken sentences. He was a particularly nervous mustelid, not that we’d hung out often before.

I failed to remember that character trait immediately, as I was sipping my Baja Blast, mostly catching up in between gulps, “So, did the Marquette Awngaimene mess with the Academy?”

And Zuma almost answered, if he wasn’t chewing on a Crunchwrap Supreme, but Clare beat him to the punch. “You know that’s classified, fox.” He shot me a glare that was almost intimidating.

Naturally, I don’t ever probe the puma for details on this sort of thing, and the question was more conversational than interrogative. “Oh yeah, sorry Clare. I was just being chatty, I don’t gotta know if it’s, like, a secret.”

“Well, you have to break the habit of being-” He stuck up literal air quotes, “‘-Chatty’ when it comes to the Academy.”

“For sure.” I was just about to ask about the flight when Florence cut me off mid-breath. “So, um- Apologies, I’m a Fangdyne Tystwole, I’ve got to catch up still, but what’s the Teleraine Academy? I only know the broad strokes.”

Clare turned his glare towards the vixen as though he could zoom in with his glasses. “I was just about to ask who you were- I assumed you and Forseti were related.”

“No, I’m simply-” The Tystole cast a confused look in my direction, “Am I- what; your ward? House guest? Or, roommate?”

I made a faux-sad look as I withdrew the straw from my muzzle, “Damn, Florence, I was gonna say, I thought of us as good friends.”

Florence looked aghast. “Oh, I’m so sorry- That’s what I meant-”

“It’s fine, I’m teasing.” Clare cleared his throat and began his explanation. “Well, as you might suspect, I’m not allowed to get into detail, but the Teleraine Academy is a millenia-old institution currently based in New England. We…” There was a noticeable pause. I think it was intentional. “Cooperate with the Awngaimene, and keep magic a secret, but we are not the same society. Our work and research is more focused- More dangerous, even, than the Awngaimene’s own- well, for lack of a better word, ‘folksy’ approach. There are a lot of policies- A lot of rules, it isn’t worth getting into until you read about it in your- What is it called? The Mulgywai’s welcome packet?”

“Actually, I’m apprenticing under Marianne.”

Clare looked nonplussed. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Oh, I thought she was well-known-” Florence sunk into her booth, sliding a little ways under the table. She felt really proud about that declaration, and it saddened me to see that energy transfer into embarrassment.

Zuma was about to explain; “Clare, Marianne is-” But the mustelid interrupted with an abrupt sigh, indicating that he wanted everyone’s attention once more. “I was going to say, that’s all I feel like mentioning about the Academy. I’m not unaware- I’m sure you’re thinking that I’m a particularly paranoid person. But do know that I wear that- or, I bear that adjective with pride.” He then proceeded to sip his Diet Coke loudly.

The rest of our little lunch was spent in casual conversation, talking about the journey, and the weather, and global news. Clare was adamant about keeping talk of magic to a minimum in such a public place, even if the lobby was empty, and no one pressed him on the issue. Towards the end of our meal, I looked down at my phone, to see that Zuma had texted me.

We need to go for a walk. Clare has been annoying me all day.

And so, I casually brought up that the puma and I would benefit from a little time alone as a couple, as long as we were to all walk around the same park. The pine marten wasn’t so much of an asshole that he’d refuse; we’d developed a good enough report for me to earn his fickle trust. Though it was funny to watch his fur crawl at the thought of splitting apart from his mission partner. The compromise involved us driving to Presque Isle; a small, yet astonishingly stunning nature trail jutting out into Lake Superior. Puma and I were far enough ahead to have our private little conversation, while also remaining within sight of Clare and Florence, who followed behind at a distance. I couldn’t begin to fathom what those two were going to talk about, but Florence didn’t seem too doomed by the prospect.

Semi-frozen slush crunched underpaw as we gently glided underneath the dripping, leaf-barren trees. The sounds of waves were quite audible. I imagined the bad weather churned up the Great Lake, just a little. The two of us wore matching, light blue rain jackets made out of a synthetic fabric.

My husband jumped right into a well-earned rant. “I’ve been wanting to rant about this for the past two hours. That was one of the worst flight experiences I’ve ever had in my life. First of all, there was a lynx cub behind me from Boston to Detroit; and you know I fucking hate kids, but this kid was the actual worst. He kicked at my seat and- He didn’t cry, but he kept loudly complaining about his ears, or being thirsty, to his mom. And he kept fucking shaking his- I don’t even know what the word is. Like a water bottle, but for milk. And he just kept shaking it and getting milk everywhere. His mother just had headphones on- I don’t know how she even could, but she deliberately ignored her own cub for the entire flight. And on top of that, both flights forgot the drink service. And on top of that, there was the worst turbulence I’d ever felt in my life from Detroit to Marquette. That’s why I was texting you so much.”

I looked at my husband with the look of a wife whose husband had just returned from the war. “I’m so sorry, that sounds like a horrible experience.”

“And that’s even just the first three things off the top of my head. There were easily more. Clare kept complaining about how he’s convinced he accidentally got served only decaf coffee this morning; even though he got two different coffees from the airport. So he’s been ‘pretending’ to have a caffeine headache all day when I know he’s just making it up. And he insisted we get a motel; a cheap, shitty motel, mind you, not a hotel, because he wants to ‘get a strategy going’ or whatever for this- Well, I can’t talk about it, but you know.”

“That’s honestly for the best. Florence and Touchstone are living at my place for a sec, I don’t think I’d have room for Clare.”

“I wish he would just get a hotel, and let me stay over with you. But no, he’s gotta be a complete asshole about this trip. I only ever got to see you maybe twice this year, and I thought I was lucky that we had this surprise third time, but nope; Clare wants us here and gone in three days.”

Zuma and Clare had known each other for a while, and were actually quite close as friends, so I didn’t doubt that this rant against him was entirely situational. They had an argumentative relationship that always cooled down the next day. But either way, there was no world in which I could put up with the pine marten as often as the puma had to. I can stand a rules stickler, but Clare had a certain knack of complaining about the most arbitrary violations to the rules. And that’s not even to mention his nervous disposition, but the Daggrebosko could be blamed for that.

“Are you renting a car?”

“That’s the thing; he wants you to drive us around everywhere, but he doesn’t want to tell you about what we’re doing, even though I’m pretty sure he’s just going to have us visit the Mulgywai and let you know anyway once we talk to them.”

“That guy needs, like- I don’t know, to discover weed or something.”

“Of course that would be your solution,” challenged the puma in a joking tone, “You drug addict.”

“Weed isn’t a drug.” I counter-argued, jabbing the cat lightly.

“Hun, caffeine is a drug, and you’re just as addicted to coffee as Clare, so my point stands.”

“I’ve seen you drink two two-liters of Coke Zero in a single night.”

“I’ve had more than just four liters in one night before, Aaron.” And then, as if I had triggered a pavlovian response, Zuma retrieved a half-finished bottle of Coke that he got from the airport and finished it in one sip.

I was about to make another comedic bit, when the puma caught me off guard; “So, I’m sorry that I have to be an asshole and bring this up now, but have you told Florence about her mother yet?”

I unconsciously cast my gaze towards the muddy ground. “No, not yet.” I had kept my husband up to date about every aspect of the situation regarding Florence and the Archlitch. I even told him about the information I kept secret, and time and time again, the puma told me that it would be best if I told the arctic fox about her homicidal mother immediately. But time and time again, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I really think you should do it, today even. You really have to stop being non-confrontational about this, that’s not a good habit of yours.”

And Zuma was right, but the defensive side of me still felt the urge to argue the point. “Well, it’s not that I’m worried about an argument or anything-”

“Being non-confrontational isn’t just about being worried about getting someone angry, Aaron. This is going to make her very depressed, you and I both know that. But it’s better if you do it now than if you do it later.”

“I’m- I’ll do it tonight. But I really think we should handle this Teleraine thing first.”

“If you say so.” Zuma said, rubbing my shoulder gently. “I trust you.” It touched me that he was seemingly very concerned for an animal that was basically a stranger to him. “I don’t want to be an asshole, but I was thinking about it the entire flight over, and I wanted to bring it up as soon as possible.”

“I love you a bunch, hun.”

“I love you too, sweetie.” I placed a peck on the puma’s cheek. It was quick and light; Zuma wasn’t the biggest fan of public displays of affection, but we were both comfortable with something short and sweet like that. “Thank you for letting me rant about the flight. I was close to doing it six times at Taco Bell. But I think Clare cut me off every time.”

“I wish I could fly with you next time”

“I wish there was an easy way to take the train. I really hate that about America.”

“To be fair, there are a few Great Lakes in the way.” Then, I immediately changed the subject, but it dawned on me that I forgot to ask the question I’d been meaning to ask all day. “Oh, I was going to ask! How’s the Illusion Magic going?”

A huge smile grew on the Teleraine feline’s face. “Yes! I’ve gotten pretty good at doing it by intuition!” And suddenly, one of the pine trees in front of us immediately went up in a burning conflagration.

Naturally, this was Illusion Magic, but I still had to ask; “Wait, OK- So are you making a projection right now? Or are you tricking my brain into seeing it? I’m not good at telling the difference between the two.”

“This is a glamour illusion-” The sort of spell that tricks my brain, “I can do both, I just don’t know if there are any Tystwole animals wandering right now. I don’t want to get the fire department called on us.” We passed safely underneath the towering arboreal inferno that existed only inside of our imagination.

“Can you do both by intuition?”

“Yes, pretty easily actually.”

“That’s incredible!”

“Well, I do attend the most prestigious magic institution in the world, so I’d say; yeah, I do have pretty good teachers.”

“So, like, if you’re learning glamour stuff right now, you could probably go down a Psychic route if you wanted?”

“Nah, I don’t like people enough to want to read their minds.”

“That’s fair, I think that’d give me a headache.”

“Actually,” started the puma with a tinge of intrigue, “You’ve inspired me a bit. I started learning Apothecary work again, as a secondary study. I know I gave it a pause a few years ago, but I really want to get back into it. That’s why I was able to come here- Well, you’ll see what we’re here for once we visit the Mulgywai. I don’t want to be an asshole to Clare and discuss it first.”

“You’re a cat with refined principles-” We had suddenly reached a point of the trail where one could see out past the trees to a stunning inlet, pounded endlessly by the stormy waves. Ice and snow dappled the smooth stones of the Black Rocks, but the majesty of nature wasn’t the first thing that caught my attention. Out on the lake, startlingly close to the cliffs, was a massive white-and-red freighter ship. As soon as I saw it, I startled audibly, and fell back on my tail out of fear. But the closeness of the vessel wasn’t the only startling thing about it. Something else seemed off…

“Wait, puma, is that the fucking Edmund Fitzgerald?”

The cat laughed maniacally, “I knew you’d recognize it!”

“I probably wouldn’t have if you didn’t place it so close- This is a glamour, right? There’s no way you could get away with something that big without someone seeing.”

“Of course it’s a glamour, dumbass.” teased the puma lovingly, “But yeah, I can make people hallucinate some pretty massive things now.”

I began to sing. “The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down to the big lake they call-”

“You don’t have to sing the entire song. It’s a six-minute song.”

“I still know all the words.” To that song and a bunch of other Gary Lightpaw tunes.

“Yes, I know that, hun. You don’t have to prove it.” But instead of antagonizing me further, the cat began to sing as well. Not as pretty as me, naturally, but I studied the voice in college. “On the big lake they call Gitche Gumee.”

And then, we both sang at once. “The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead when the skies of November turn gloomy…”

Florence did a flashback when I was reading her chapter, and I thought it would be a really cool idea, but I’m only going to do one.

A tram took me from the Edinburgh International Airport to the city’s train station, a train took me from Edinburgh to Perth, a second train took me from Perth to Inverness, and finally, a ride from a white tiger took me from Inverness to a secluded home in the middle of the Highlands.

His name was Zippo, and he was a close friend of a fox named Jouxlya.

The home wasn’t particularly large, and in fact, it wasn’t even the tiger’s actual house. He was renting it out for a seminar that he was running on the relationship between magic and anatomy. Also in attendance were a few Awngaimene animals from various parts of Canada; Ciro the Coyote, and Mako the Otter, though the last member of the group had a significantly shorter flight. His name was Zuma the Puma, and he came from Germany.

Sitting at the base of a particularly large munro, the house stuck out due to the absolute lack of trees on the hill’s barren, igneous face. A small little brook lapped along lazily at the building’s side. The home only had one floor, and a separate building that looked like a combination between a garage and a barn. We had driven a considerable distance towards the Inner Hebrides.

The tiger showed me to my room. Apparently, the coyote and puma shared a guest room, while the tiger and otter bunked together in the main bedroom. But as the white-furred feline explained, Zuma had a pointed interest in moving in with the tiger and otter when it became necessary to add a fifth guest, and as soon as I entered into Ciro’s room, it became clear why.

“Hello, pleasure to meet you, Forseti.” His voice was soft and polite, and he wore a headband around the fur atop his head. His yellow fur had only moved one or two shades towards red when compared to mine. “I’ve left your side of the room as clean as possible. It is impossible to keep a room clean while practicing Earth Magic, though, so I apologize in advance.”

As the coyote claimed, mud was completely caked into two-thirds of the room, still glistening wet. The aforementioned headband and headfur were also drenched in mud. The canine’s sheets were completely buried underneath a layer of Highland soil, and the tables were absolutely littered with loose stones and piles of dirt, though the earth witch was able to find a couple colorful pieces of red jasper, banded chalcedony, and gleaming pyrite. It didn’t escape my notice that a few streaks of mud lined the sheets of what would be my bed as well.

But I could do nothing more than shrug. “To be perfectly honest, with this mushroom thing I got going on, I should probably also apologize in advance.”

Ciro’s eyes went wide, “Oh, I just thought about that. This is going to go horribly.”

Zippo was eavesdropping from the hallway, though these new revelations prompted him to declare in his moderate Scottish accent, “The both of you are effectively banned from the other bedroom.” He had already proceeded to take his shirt off and switch to a comfortable pair of black sweatpants.

Neither of us had a counter-argument. “The master bedroom shower’s still up for grabs, though, right?” I teased.

“I feel like I haven’t known you long enough to be able to say this, but I’m going to say it anyway: Shut up, fox.” I giggled, but with enough bass in my voice to not accidentally convince the tiger that I was an actual fairy.

“Pleasure to meet you too, though, Ciro; forgot to say.”

And then, from the other room, I heard a voice ring out with the thickest Scottish accent I had ever heard in my life. I couldn’t even understand half of the words being said.

“Who dare-” Something I couldn’t make out- “at the ancestral home of-” Something I couldn’t make out- “Of Clan-” Something I couldn’t make out.

Zippo shook his head in embarrassment. “Mako, I told you that we were having a guest over.” He leisurely began to march down the hallway towards the master bedroom. “Why the fuck would you channel the chief of a clan-”

It seemed as though the other Canadian Awngaimene was held in the sway of a supernatural possession, as he proceeded to cut the tiger off in a deep bark.

“I-” Something I couldn’t make out- “Your authority-”

Zippo was quick to use a simple phrase that I’d heard the exorcist Lavitia use many times before, “Avgrosd Ghorlgnam, I release you,” I hazarded a peek into the hallway to watch the tiger as he casually burnt a sachet of magical herbs in one paw while clutching a black wand in the other.

“You dare-” Something I couldn’t make out, and then an entirely different voice that was much higher in timbre, and flustered with shame, whimpered, “Ahh, so sorry, sir. Raghnall’s powerful enough to sneak in if I’m not actively careful.”

“You should be more careful! He’s a chief of a clan, not a witch-”

“Technically, he was only a tanist,” contradicted the otter, now in his right mind.

“That’s beside the point!”

“Is this place haunted?” I casually asked the coyote, still curiously following along with the tiger and otter’s conversation.

“Oh yes, totally.”

Mako popped his head into the hallway. Despite his meek little voice, the brown-furred otter was a complete punk in his appearance. His ears were littered in piercings; one of them an actual, literal safety pin, and his nose had a distinct circular ring that stuck out more than the others. “My name’s Mako, sorry that I couldn’t banish the clan chief before you arrived.”

“You’re all good. I think I’m entirely unharmed so far by that having happened.” The otter came over, though when I went to shake his paw, he opted for a hug instead, which I returned warmly.

The dirty coyote then admitted in an offended tone, “How come you forgot to hug me?” A few globs of mud dripped to the floor.

“Oh, I was getting to it-”

Ciro took those few words as permission enough, and wrapped his slightly larger canine frame around mine, completely smearing my shirt in dirt in the process. After a second of trepidation, I relented and squeezed back, because I’m not all that afraid of mud.

“I was gonna ask, Mako. You’re an exorcist?”

“I’m more of a spiritual channeler, but I dabble a little in exorcism. I may even look into work with Summoning in the future.”

“That’s cool. I think I told Zippo, so maybe he told you, but I’m a bit of a basic healer guy, and I do some stuff with the Record, but mostly I’m just cursed by a Fungal Entity and do a lot of fungal stuff.”

Mako sheepishly cleared his throat. “Yeah, maybe I’d appreciate it if you did what Zippo said. Probably don’t use our bathroom.”

“So there’s more than one bathroom?”

Zippo then stormed into the hallway. “There’s only one bathroom with a shower, so you’re going to have to bathe in the stream.”

“It’s cold,” warned Ciro with a whisper, probably speaking from experience.

From what Jouxlya told me, as well as what came up in the conversation on the drive over, I already knew that the tiger was an accomplished witch who didn’t focus on one particular area of magic, though he did introduce himself primarily as a skilled Apothecary. And indeed, the four of us would train under his tutelage for the next few months. It seemed as though Ciro, Mako, and Zippo were all a similar age, about ten years older than me, but I had yet to have met the mysterious fifth guest of the house, and wondered if I’d be the youngest of the group.

Then, the puma came in. The first thing I noticed was his wrinkled nose, seemingly horribly offended by a strange scent.

“It’s a fucking fox? Why didn’t you tell me he’d be a fucking fox?”

He was dressed in a pair of silver exercise shorts and a T-Shirt with the Taco Bell logo printed on it. He was drinking from an entire two-liter of Pepsi Max. Or I guess one-point-five liters, because we were in a different country with stricter laws on soda portions.

“Are you racist against foxes now?” joked the tiger, punching the puma playfully on his shoulder.

Zuma smiled at me in the way that high school bullies do to the main characters of children’s shows. “Only because they have a particular smell. Worse than coyotes, actually, in my opinion.” I lost the fight against my impulses and unconsciously smelled under my arm, seemingly under the impression that it wouldn’t smell like mold.

“I bathe…” I weakly defended, using enough sarcasm in my voice to indicate that I wasn’t actually offended.

“But not unless you bathe in the stream, right?” reminded Zippo.

“Yes, Zippo.”

The tiger was suddenly stern. “Yes, sir.” He spoke in a way to indicate that I should repeat that phrase exactly.

“Yes, sir.”

Zuma then came over, and hugged me as he saw his friends do. “My name’s Zuma- Oh, wow, I was doing a bit earlier, but you actually smell-”

“It’s not just a fox thing! It’s also a mushroom curse thing!”

“Did you fly across the ocean like that-”

“Puma, stop insulting the fox,” warned Zippo, though not without an additional mocking tone.

“Stop defending him. You don’t like mushrooms either.”

“That’s because mushrooms are disgusting,” then mocked the coyote.

“This is the worst day of my life.” Everyone then broke into deep, rich laughter at my self-diagnosed distress. And then, the otter began cackling like he was literally the Wicked Witch of the West, before speaking in an entirely different voice, full of resonant tenor and a strange, fruity flirtiness “Hmm nobody told me that the guest would be a fox, you’re bringing me a new toy to break in, Tiger?”

But the tiger sighed as though annoyed. “Heinrich, please go away-”

The otter then proceeded to slap the big cat on his ass. “What are you going to do about it, stud?”

Zippo brought out another sachet; probably the same components that had aided in the banishment earlier “I literally have a dozen of these.”

“Killjoy.” The otter then sauntered towards my direction with a strange sway in his hips that seemed entirely uncharacteristic to the aquatic mammal I was talking to before. It almost seemed stilted, due to the added weight of his rudder tail. He was obviously under the influence of possession again.

The otter, or moreso the hyena, continued. “Fine, I’ll vamoose. I’m Heinrich the Chaste, the Hyena. Famous Foulgydan. Occultist Alchemist extraordinaire, sticking around in the afterlife because this meek little otter gets off on getting taken control of by a strong, dominant magician.” The hyena-possessed otter then slapped my ass. “Don’t you worry your sweet little head though, fox, we’ll have playtime soon enough.” And then, Mako blinked twice, proceeded to blush, and squeaked out, “So, um, sorry about that.”

I shrugged again. “Who am I to critique people for weird first impressions?” I pulled a small, brown mushroom cap from the armpit I was inspecting earlier, flicked it into my room, and proceeded to bring the derailed conversation safely atop a new set of rails. “So you’re all, like, pretty close already, I take it? Have you been doing this, like, seminar for long?”

“Oh, we’re only doing the seminar for, you know, Jouxlya’s apprentice,” clarified the puma. “We’re sort of our own little… friend group.”

I squinted my eyes in confusion, “But you’re all, like, not from the same country.”

Mako then jumped in, “The modern advent of the internet and online gaming are very useful tools for making friends with people in other countries.”

Zippo added an additional piece of information. “Especially if everybody involved has a similar interest in role playing and heavy dungeon-”

“Wait-” I interrupted, having just cracked the case. “Are you all D&D players?” I had dabbled in the practice myself, but my question still betrayed a difficult-to-remove tinge of mockery.

I picked up on a snide comment, whispered by the puma towards the tiger. “He’s not very bright.” But I didn’t indicate that I heard it, instead allowing the coyote to jump into an explanation. “That is true. We do all play D&D and go LARP-ing and other fairly nerdy things, but we do hang out for more- well… other reasons.” The coyote then winked at me, but I completely missed it. I instead grinned like the main character of Rumpelstiltskin, having just heard the little fiend declare his own name. “So I just joined the witch nerd club?”

“Well, I guess,” answered the puma, “Awngaimine nerds. It’s 2018. Being a nerd is socially and financially a boon.”

“Yeah, that makes sense...Wait, have you all actually gone out to LARP?”

“Aren’t you an actor?”

The three of us had just pulled up to Great Lakes Gas just as the sleet turned to snow. I dropped Florence off first; Marianne needed her for something that I neglected to ask about. Zuma was a little upset that I couldn’t reveal the secret about the other fox’s mother first, but I didn’t want to talk about it with Clare in the car.

Fons, the turtle, was the animal behind the counter, and likewise, the Mulgywai liaison for us that evening as well. He was dressed in a vest, over the deep blue polo that served as his uniform, both tucked neatly into his shell. “Dahbin io,” droned Fons out of obligation, and I was the first to respond with “Awngaimene.” The monotone dropped as the reptile looked up and saw exactly which animals constituted our little party. “Long time, no see, Zuma.” chimed the turtle, putting down a book that I’m pretty sure was Slaughterhouse Five. I was glad that Touchstone wasn’t there to make any unwarranted ska references.

“Ebenfa- Likewise.” answered the puma, almost speaking in German.

“Also, I’ve been meaning to say, um, fox. I’m so sorry about pushing you to see The Lady Juxtaposed a few weeks ago. I didn’t think The Lady Juxtaposed was gonna up and send you on a suicide mission.”

I was a tad bit nervous about speaking of the Foulgydan at this particular gas station. “You had no way of knowing- But also, is the Lady Juxtaposed, um-”

“I would not be talking about The Lady Juxtaposed openly if The Lady Juxtaposed was here.” Fons flashed a sheepish smile. One tends to get shy when gossiping about one’s boss while at work. “So, what brings you in today? Something new with the Shadow Entity- er, Archlitch situation?”

As Fons got up from his counter to flip the store sign to close, Clare butted in, managing to be the first animal to answer, “I have to say, I only just learned that the Archlitch was real a few days ago, and I don’t want to be in town if it’s around.”

“Relax, Clare,” I comforted with a tone of annoyance, flicking my ears unconsciously, “That whole situation’s going on in Chicago.”

“That would have been nice to know. You’re lucky our connection was in Detroit.”

Fons cast his gaze confusingly to Zuma and I, “Is- I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met, are you with the Academy?”

“I’d prefer to talk about these sorts of things in more private locations,” barked the stubborn mustelid.

“Yeah, we can talk about this in the office.”

And so, the four of us started to move down the staircase to chat in the same room where Florence had her meeting with Foulgydan Annadax. But before I made my way behind the counter, Clare literally put up a paw to stop me in my tracks. “I’m sorry, Forseti, but I must insist you stay behind.”

But the shelled reptile Mulgywai insisted further, “Sorry, um, sir- But it’s Awngaimene policy. I’m not allowed to be alone in a room when it comes to matters related to the Academy-which-should-not-be-named. And Zuma doesn’t count anymore.”

“Like I told you a hundred times,” scolded Zuma to the pine marten.

Though the other Teleraine pupil exploded defensively before admitting defeat, “Well, that’s fine then! If it's a policy, I’m comfortable with it!”

And it wasn’t before too long that Clare, Zuma, and I found ourselves sitting in the ugly, uncomfortable waiting-room chairs in the dull, white office. Clare wasted no time getting to his point. “I’ll waste no time getting to the point. The Teleraine Academy experienced significant damages at the paws of an Awngaimene infiltrator. I am not at liberty to get into the details, but we have not been able to identify the infiltrator. What we do know is that they received the assistance of an Apothecary from Marquette, and that we need to interrogate them as to who they sold their potion to.”

An awkward silence hung over the room. Fons and I snuck quick glances at each other with our jaws hung in astonishment.

“Um- I’m sorry, I still don’t think I know your name-” began the turtle, “But I thought you knew; Forseti is Marquette’s Apothecary.”

But Zuma was the first to clear the confusion. “Yeah, but there are two healers here, right? Who took over for Jouxlya?”

“Um, hun-” I began, “I took over for Jouxlya?”

“Then who’s the other Apothecary? I forgot who lives here!” admitted the puma, raising his voice. “I didn’t memorize everybody’s name.”

But the Mulgywai was a bit nervous about giving away private information. “I don’t think I can just give you the address of our other Apothecary. That’s confidential.”

“Well,” started Clare, “It’s for important Academy business, and we need to-”

Zuma tried to interrupt, “Clare, you’re not gonna get far by-” But Fons ended up interrupting the two of them further, “Yeah, but- Clare, yeah? You have no jurisdiction here.”

“Sir Mulgywai, a crime was committed, we have a right to investigate-”

“Also, wait-” stammered the turtle. No one was finishing their sentences whatsoever with this conversation. “Your name’s ‘Clare?’”

“Yes,” answered the mustelid. His mustelid eyes narrowed immediately, drowning in the white fur around his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m sorry, I don’t want to assume your gender, but isn’t-”

“Clare can be a boy’s name.” I swear I saw venom dripping from the pine marten’s muzzle. I imagined this particular question came up often in his life.

Though Fons was quick to withdraw. “Nevermind, as I was saying. I could call the other Apothecary, and see if they’d be willing to meet up, but if they refuse, there isn’t really anything else I can do for you.”

“Then call them,” demanded the mustelid.

Fons shrugged and wordlessly withdrew his phone from his pocket. The four of us just sort of awkwardly sat there, listening to the muted dial tone from across the room. I was entirely convinced that the call would go to voicemail, but the turtle was able to get a hold.

“Hey there, Sappha, Fons here-” It wasn’t lost on me that Fons had slipped up.

“Dude, you just name dropped her-”

The reptile’s eyes went wide as his jaw dropped in astonishment. “I’m a fucking idiot. I am so sorry.” Fons kept speaking, but focused his conversation into the phone. “Oh, no, yeah. I was talking to someone else in the room- Actually, that’s a lie. I was going to ask if I could have a few Teleraine members come over for questioning about a theft or something. But I just said your name-” A pause. “Yeah, totally sorry.” A pause. “No, yeah, it is Zuma, but it’s not- This is an actual Teleraine Academy- Well, y’know, thing.” A pause. “Oh, no, no. You’re not in trouble- Well, unless you actively helped organize the robbery, but I doubt that.” A pause. “Of course it wasn’t Forseti. His husband attends the Academy.” A pause. “I can let them know. Again, so sorry, please don’t tell the Lady-” Fons flicked his tongue out in awkward self-depreciation. “She hung up.”

Clare leaned forward. “And?”

“Sappha’s comfortable meeting up tomorrow, at her place around noon. She’s currently preoccupied, so you’ll have to wait.”

I subconsciously tore my claws through my ugly chair’s upholstery. While Fons and Clare were in the middle of their spat, Zuma was the first to take notice.

“You don’t have to be there, hun-”

“Fucking Sappha- God, I am not in the mood to meet up with Sappha, let me tell you.”

“Hun, you don’t have to go in. You can just wait in the car.”

Sappha was Marquette’s other Apothecary, and though the avian nuthatch was a year younger than me, she’d been training in the apothecary arts since childhood. Naturally, she was my most despised rival.

“Yeah, you’re right. I just- She really pisses me-”

“Hun, I’m aware. Everyone in this room is aware.”

The three of us had made our way back to the Foxhole not much later. Zuma and Clare had checked into their motel on the way back, literally making it to the building at the exact minute listed as their check-in time, but neither mammal really did much with their room besides throwing their bags in a corner and hopping back into my car.

In fact, the puma and pine marten had made themselves more comfortable in my living room than they did in their motel room. Touchstone was doing some sort of work related to his laptop, but I didn’t investigate further. I noticed that Florence was missing, but the black-feathered songbird told me that the other fox was out behind the house, staring into the forest as the last red-and-yellow leaves clung to the trees in desperation, in her words.

The arctic fox wore her head fur over her eyes, the black-dyed tips brushing against her cheeks. She had taken to showing off her draconic arm more often, despite the fact that the weather was steadily becoming drastically chillier. The sleet had turned into a more gentle rain. “Hey there, Florence! All good?” I asked, immediately regretting it, because as a whole, Florence was not doing good, and it was a little shitty of me to ask. But the vulpine disregarded my social faux pas and flashed a toothy smile my way as I approached. “I’m fine today! How was visiting the Mulgywai?”

“Surprisingly not completely annoying.”

Florence giggled a little, “I can’t imagine you all enjoy hanging out with Clare all that often?”

I returned a hearty laugh, “Damn, you don’t gotta get his ass like that.”

“I shouldn’t tease like that, I imagine this whole situation’s probably also annoying for him.”

“Oh yeah, but I don’t have to tolerate him for it.” I laughed once more, but then shifted to a more serious tone as I took a spot beside the fox to stare at the fall-drenched wilderness. “You’re, uh, outside by yourself.”

“Yeah, I just- I wanted to meditate. In the forest a little. Connect to my, I don’t know, witchy roots a bit. I don’t mind the rain that much.”

“I’m a pretty solid rain fan too. But yeah, anything you need at all?”

“I mean- Defeating the Archlitch. Mostly that. Also waiting on updates from Jacks and Row, they’re meeting with Resurrection Mary again today. But no, I don’t need anything right now. I’m…” There was a noticeable pause. “I’m OK for right now- well, you know.”

“Let me know if that changes at all.” I nudged her shoulder lightly.

“Actually, I did have one question.”

“Shoot.”

“So everytime anyone brings up the Teleraine Academy, they always talk about it like it’s some horrible thing. Or- you know, they treat it the same way they treat Marianne.”

“For sure, for sure.”

“So why did Zuma enroll?”

I erupted with full-body laughter, much to the confusion of the white-furred fox. Her confused look materialized into vocalization. “Is- am I missing something-”

“No, no, not at- I totally forgot to bring it up! Don’t tell him I told you this, because he’s taken to drinking the respect-the-Academy Kool-Aid just a little bit as of late, but you know how he was born in Germany, right?”

“Right.”

“This was the easiest way for him to get citizenship. The Academy covers that sort of thing better than the Mulgywai.”

Florence blinked in confusion. “Wait- but aren’t you married?”

“Oh, Gods- Yeah, we are, but it’s- It’s not a quick process, like in the movies, you actually have to wait for-fucking-ever and do a bunch of paperwork stuff and it’s expensive, and very-much-so not an automatic thing. This was the easier plan.”

There was a brief moment of silence. “Like, really?”

“Yep. And also the Academy covers insurance for the both of us, so that’s really nice.”

“You’re both insane for that.”

“Insane, yes, but definitely not bankrupt or deported.”

When night falls on the Upper Peninsula, in the autumnal quarter of the year, there is naught for the good folk of Michigan to pass the time with that achieves such a seamless passing as speedily as drinking does. And so, Zuma, Florence, Clare, Touchstone, Hawthorn, and yours truly, drove on over to Esu’s to engage in such a pastime; Claudia couldn’t make it and didn’t explain why. Lavitia and Old Man Willoughby were serving drinks, diligently as ever, and a good dozen other animals showed up as well, but I’m not going to namedrop every single Awngaimene that lives in Marquette. That would be annoying.

I did, however, notice Hauksborque Stoney and the wolf from Chicago, Mark, hanging out at the table next to us. From the errant bits of eavesdropping that I could muster, I could tell that the two were discussing workout regiments and professional wrestlers, and he was invited on the rat’s behalf. The wolf didn’t seem to hold any particular resentment towards me, so that was nice.

Not wanting to crowd our already-crowded table, Lavitia and, to a far lesser degree, the ghost of the bear kept mostly to conversing with the patrons atop the barstools, only making a passing snide comment our way if she came within earshot. I did notice the horny shrew, Moss Agate, sitting at a high rodent’s seat at the bar.

I was the designated driver that evening, because Clare didn’t want to be a passenger in my car if I wasn’t the one driving it. And no, it wasn’t just a matter of car insurance, he didn’t want his or Zuma’s ID checked and registered in any police databases that weren’t in New England or- No, the explanation didn’t really make much sense to me, either. Zuma was drinking a gin martini; a cocktail that Lavitia spent weeks mastering, and one that Zuma spent weeks taste-testing. I was enjoying plain tonic water. The steady rain from earlier developed into a heavy shower. The errant clap of thunder struck every now and again.

“So what kind of magic have you been learning these days, Clare?” I asked.

We were once again amidst magical company, and the appletini clutched betwixt Clare’s paws caused him to drop his reservation against discussing Academy matters. He wanted to show off, thinking that his drink was as classy as Zuma’s. “Well, I’ve been focusing on Summoner’s Magic, as you know; I actually just finished making a pact a few weeks ago, but that’s- You know, it’s demanding magic. There’s a lot I have to do on my end to uphold the pacts, especially now that I’m engaged in three at a time. But I think it’s good work, the Summoner’s Fraternity is getting that closest that I’ve ever seen to making contact with-” He waved his free paw around, searching for the right words, “Another realm, world, what have you.” He then started to take a long sip.

Hawthorn, who had an occupationally-based interest in magical beings, started to pose a question. “What did you make a pact with-”

But the pine marten summoner continued his story mid-question. “I think we’ve gone the furthest- Oh, so sorry, Hawthorn, was it?”

“Oh no, you’re- You’re fine.”

“As I was saying; I don’t think any magical- well, group of animals, have gotten this close since- Well, since the Affair of the Blighted Court.”

That reference caused my jaw to drop. “You’re not all gonna die are you?” The Affair of the Blighted Court was an event in Awngaimene History where a collection of the oldest, wisest Foulgydan met to parley with a magical entity that they knew resided on the top of Mount Belukha in Siberia in 993 C.E. It was rumored that a gateway existed on the mountain. The Foulgydan meant to appeal to the being, believing the Awngaimene Society worthy of admission into a higher plane of existence. The being came down from the mountain, and there were no survivors.

But Summoners never dared ask to witness the great beyond, and only made pacts with beings who dwelt in our physical world. “Forseti, I appreciate the concern. But don’t worry, not repeating the Affair is our highest priority.”

Hawthorn then posed another question, after sipping his Pabst Blue Ribbon. “From what I’ve researched, Summoner’s Magic takes- Um, yeah, no, I was going to ask that- It’s true that the being you make a pact with changes your psyche permanently, right?”

Clare chortled haughtily, “You’re Marquette’s Mracksiogne, from what Zuma tells me, correct? The One-Eyed Wolf?”

“Yes,” responded the wolf with a curt nod.

“The psychological change implied with Summoning is usually the first thing they teach you when you learn about the Craft, I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

Hawthorn shrugged. “I think Summoner’s Magic is mostly a Teleraine thing.”

This took the summoner off-guard, “Really?”

“Yeah, um- No one really has written- Or, no one I know has written about it.”

Swirling her half-full French 75; the white-furred vixen was really developing a taste for the cocktails of the Roaring Twenties, Florence proceeded to take her turn in regards to expressing curiosity. “Is that the same thing as Forseti’s mushroom curse?” I subconsciously pulled at the russet caps that were growing from my arm as the other fox brought them up. Zuma noticed and whispered, “Don’t do that at the table, hun.” I apologized quietly.

The mustelid summoner as he answered Florence. “It’s kind of similar? But Forseti’s merely cursed, and- Have you made a pact, fox?”

I shrugged, “More of a mutual symbiosis. And I share my body with a being.” I didn’t feel like bringing up the Archlitch.

“Then no, we’re not too similar. I can summon the entities I’ve bonded with at-will; they literally teleport. I just have to adhere exactly to their contract; and the wolf was right, my personality is forever altered, but not too dramatically.” Everyone cast their gaze towards the ceiling or the floor, on the verge of strongly disagreeing.

Touchstone then brought a talon up to his chin, posing quasi-suavely, “Could you summon something right now?” But Lavitia, as attentive as ever, stormed across the bar floor to our table, “Nobody’s gonna be summoning anything this evening if they don’t want to be thrown out into the rain.”

“Sure thing, ma’am. I tease, I tease,” teased the bird. But Clare wouldn’t have done it, either way. “I can’t expose my magic like that with such a large group of people, anyway.”

“I mean, like-” I began, “It’s not like we’re going to tell the greater public anyway.”

“It’s horrible practice to expose your own magic to strangers,” shouted the pine marten defensively. He actively pulled his martini glass towards his chest, and I could see the deep green-tinted cocktail stain his white shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice.

The avian thief then chided the Teleraine summoner further, before taking a sip from his own martini. “Friend, this isn’t an anime. When’s the last time you’ve ever seen two Awngaimene get in a magical fight?”

“We have Varsity Spellcraft Duels at the Academy.”

I brought my paw up to my muzzle to keep myself from laughing. “That is the most Harry Potter-ass thing I’ve ever-”

But Zuma was quick to cut me off, “I don’t think you’ve ever read Harry Potter. They literally have a specific sport.” I forgot about Quiddidge. I also didn’t bother to look up the spelling.

“I don’t know, I never read it.”

“You need to work on your bits, sweetie. I can’t believe you used to be a comedian.”

Florence then piped up curiously. “You used to be a comedian?”

“Well, actor, but I did a lot of comedy stuff.”

The other fox nodded, “OK, I was thinking ‘actor,’ that makes sense.”

Zuma lovingly bullied me further. “And he had to literally discover magic because his comedy was so bad-”

“You’re fucking- You’re fucking, uh, a big baby bitch.” I didn’t have a comeback.

“Point and case,” added the feline definitively, winning the argument.

Clare, sounding slowly tipsier and tipsier, then pointed a digit my way. “Didn’t Zuma tell me that you thought you saw the G’hialgiange? Even after witnessing it with your own eyes and avoiding the ferryman’s curse?”

Half of the table was laughing at me. “Everybody shut up about the G’hialgiange for a thousand years.” The mustelid was cackling like a fairy tale witch, and it dawned on me as the pine marten clutched an empty glass that he was horrible at holding his liquor, but I took the moral high road and decided not to incorporate that into my comeback. “Do you all remember when I killed a God last week?”

“Self-proclaimed God,” countered Zuma.

But Hawthorn failed to pick up on the fact that I was employing the use of irony and put a paw on my shoulder. “Are you actually upset, or-”

I felt the flesh under my facefur blush slightly, “Oh, no, no, Hawthorn, I’m totally good. I’m doing bits.”

Hawthorn blushed back, “Oh, sorry-”

“No, you’re all good!”

Touchstone changed the subject. “So, I was going to ask-”

Reveling in his drunkenness, the pine marten completely disregarded the blackbird’s infiltration into the conversation and lifted up a simple, white tea light used to decorate the table. “Forgive me, I’ve been looking at this all evening. Would anyone mind if I ate this?”

Touchstone was stupefied, “I don’t think I know how to answer that.” But the Teleraine puma was quick to explain, “He eats fire. It’s a part of a pact. You were saying?”

The avian rogue once again slipped into his cool demeanor as the rest of us casually watched the mustelid summoner bring the tiny candle to his mouth, lick at the exposed flame, immediately burn his tongue, gasp in pain, and then swallow nothing in particular, once again listening into the conversation as though nothing had happened.

“Clare, and Zuma- And forgive my curiosity, but what exactly brought you two up here? It’s not exactly summer break.”

Clare shrunk in his seat. “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

But Zuma, after sighing in exacerbation, returned with, “Clare, half the animals at this table know already. We don’t have to be assholes about it.”

The pine marten stared into his empty glass for a few seconds as all of us stared at him in anticipation. “Fine, sure- But can I have another one of these?”

“The candle or the cocktail?” I joked, proving my comedic superiority after all. But Lavitia appeared like a sudden gust of wind, stealing my thunder and placing another fully-crafted appletini in the pine marten’s paws. “Here you go, dear.” She could have been better at gauging the sobriety of her patrons.

Clare was spellbound. “How did you-

“Bartender’s intuition. Anyone else like anything?” Everyone’s drinks were half-full, and the rest of us responded with our own variation on “All’s good.” In any event, we were infinitely curious about the Teleraine Academy gossip.

Clare took a long sip from his cocktail, and mumbled, “I don’t know; Zuma, you tell the story.”

The puma groaned, “Fine. So, as it turns out, somebody was actually able to sneak past all of the Teleraine Academy’s security measures, and steal the Two Pricks of All Knowledge, collected from Great Zimbabwe during the Third Clandestine Wars; the Conquest of the Divine Seat of Madness. I won’t get into too much detail-” I was surprised he didn’t stop to breathe at that point- “But the Deans of the Academy as really pissed off, because-”

“I’m so sorry,” chirped Florence, who looked like she was eager to ask her question for ages, “The Two Pricks of All Knowledge? That’s not a joke name, right?”

Clare was quick to come to the Two Pricks’ defense. “It’s a very real name, fox, and a very powerful artifact. They let you experience another animal’s memories as if they were your own.”

“They should rename them,” joked Florence under her breath, her tone indicating a mild buzz. Zuma carried on with his monologue.

“It’s obviously a dangerous artifact to have gone missing, but the Deans are especially pissed, since when they used Forensic Magic, they found out that the thief used a Potion of Altered Blood.”

Uh oh.

“They were able to use Forensic Magic to figure out the potion’s origins, which are, obviously, here- Probably Sappha, but that’s literally the only lead we have. I mean, obviously, hun, I wanted to come here to see you, but it’s all so fucking annoying because we have nothing else to go on, besides figuring out whoever Sappha sold that potion to. And I’m invested, I really want to figure this one out.”

Refer to Chapter 1 if you forgot why this was suddenly very alarming for me.

Clare then proceeded to tack on. “But now you know why I wanted to keep it secret. I don’t even think-” He hiccuped,”...the Awngaimene know about the Two Prick’s existence, let alone that we-” He hiccuped again, “...lost it.”

I could tell that my own muzzle gave away a look of concern, and I could feel my own ears fully prick upwards as though pulled by strings, but when I snuck a glance over to Touchstone, I was relieved to find that he kept his composure. Thankfully, the One-Eyed Wolf was the first to respond, before either Touchstone or I said anything incriminating. “I know we all- um, er, I know Forseti, specifically, doesn’t like Sappha, but I don’t think she’d try to rob the Academy.”

“Burgle, not rob,” corrected the blackbird rogue fairly immediately.

“She probably didn’t know what she sold it for,” explained Clare, “We just need to figure out the customer.” He then chuckled drunkenly, “We’re not going to Imbound her or anything, don’t worry.”

I was tempted to shout “Touchstone, would you please meet with me in the bathroom?” But that would have been equal parts awkward and suspicious, so I texted him instead. Ask me to push you to the bathroom. The fact that the bird was in a wheelchair made that request seem reasonable.

But before Touch could check his text, Mark and Stoney came over to our table. The wolf approached me specifically. “Hey there, ma’am- er, man. I never got to apologize for barking at you earlier. I was in bouncer mode.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mark, I literally drugged you.” I heard Clare quietly mumble a confused, “What?”

But the wolf bouncer clapped me on my back in a friendly manner, “No, that’s what I want to apologize for. I was ready to fight, and you took the peaceful option. I’m also pretty sure you saved Mars’ and mine lives- That was grammatically horrible, but you know what I mean. I owe you a drink, man.”

I laughed gently, “I’ll take you up on that some other night. I’m driving.”

“That’s respectable.”

“What are you doing here, if I might ask? I thought you and Marsden wouldn’t want to hang around Awngaimene?”

The bodybuilding rat then proceeded to clap Mark’s back, “I invited him! That whole Archlitch situation might take a while, least I can do is try and make him and the peacock comfortable!”

“Yeah, Mars has always-”

Stoney cut him off without registering it, “Plus, he’s literally the first Awngaimene I’ve ever met that follows professional wrestling and MMA. You are, all of you, a bunch of nerds. And I mean that with love.”

“Well,” began Hawthorn, shaking the other lupine’s paw, “You and your… husband?”

“Engaged, actually.”

Hawthorn smiled, tail-wagging. “Aww, congrats, you two!” A few other members of our little group responded in a similar way, even though the peacock was annoying, and the wolf continued. “Yeah- Mars will probably come visit soon, he’s always had a… I don’t want to say resentment, but- Sorry, I don’t really know the Awngaimene words that much, but he was a Fang-Diving Tystwole, I think? And really got burned by the animals over in Taunton because- It’s a long story, but I’m just his partner. I have no idea how this magic stuff works. I’m in my mid-forties, though, I’m too old to turn this into a whole young-adult-novel thing.”

It was a bit enlightening to hear Mark’s tale, but I was snapped back into reality when Touchstone suddenly chimed in. “Hey, Forsy, would you mind taking me to the bathroom?”

My response came with a voice like a backed up drain, finally clearing up. “Yes, yes, I can definitely do that, Touch.”

Touchstone joked to cover up my suspicious behavior. “Well you don’t have to make it a sexual thing. Unless you want to.” The two of us left the scene as I heard my husband ask the rat, “Oh hey, Stoney, none of these guys follow football. Did you hear that the Chevali Firebirds new wide receiver’s in the running-”

“Wait, which football?” inquired Florence.

“American football, the actual football.” Zuma was very fond of American culture, and decidedly not fond of his own nation’s take on “football,” and the fan culture therein. The bird and I were then out of earshot. I pushed Touchstone, not towards the bathroom, but instead further down the hallway. There, we found a closet that seemed to find no real use outside of overflow storage; salt, napkins, soap, and other things that Lavitia nor Willoughby wouldn’t need at that moment. Willoughby couldn’t even touch the salt. I shut the door quietly, no one noticed us go into the closet.

“So,” I began, “How are we going to handle this?”

“They’re definitely going to figure out that you made the potion if they go to Sappha.”

“Right.”

“But we can’t stop them from going to Sappha.”

“Also right- But also, just to be clear, it wasn’t you who robbed the Academy, right?”

“Burgled.”

“It wasn’t you who burgled the Academy, right? You don’t use magic.”

Touchstone clicked his tongue against his beak, “Well, it was my Gods-damned grandfather who committed the burglary.” The Thief of Night Breezes.

“OK. OK, but why? And why did you have me make a potion for him?”

“I couldn’t tell you. He asked me to ask you to make it, and I couldn’t get a real answer out of him. You know how he is when people ask him questions.”

“So, you gave the Potion of Altered Blood to your grandpa at the House St. Nicholas Reunion?”

“Correct.”

“So, we tell Clare and Zuma-”

“I’m not going to snitch. I’m not a fan of my family, but I’m also not a snitch.”

I wasn’t going to argue with him on that point. “For sure, for sure. Well. I guess…” I didn’t have a plan.

“We have time before tomorrow, I’ll work up a plan, but in the meantime, act natural. Take them to Sappha. I’ll call my grandpa tonight, get some details.”

“OK, I trust you on this.”

“Good, let’s get back, then. Or, in roughly a minute, so it doesn’t seem too quick.”

There was a gentle rustle behind a pile of packaged paper towels. The nervous voice of an Awngaimene squirrel named Eric then piped up, “So, uh, is this a bad time to tell you two that we’re, um-” Another voice chimed in; Moss Agate, the shrew. “Yeah, this is my making-out corner.”

An awkward silence hung in the air. I was the first to break it. “You don’t tell Clare, I don’t tell Lavitia?”

“Works for me,” responded Moss.