Every year the new form takes her by surprise. She knows it’s coming, she can feel the change, the pull, the call, the sheer excitement of anticipation, but she never manages to guess what she will be once the magic in Selidor finishes its work. Some years she grows scales, some years she has a tail and some years she spreads wings to take to the suntouched skies. This is one of those years.
This year the wings are made for preening, not for flying. The skies did not call her up, instead all the flowers on the ground invited … Read more →