The next day had advanced quite far when Henry woke; he suspected he had slept for at least ten hours. Thanatos still lay sleeping when Henry untangled himself from the crumpled furs and undid the clasp of his sword belt to rid himself of the sheathed sword that pressed into his side.

Someone had left his backpack by the entrance, together with a set of fresh clothes, a towel, and a human-made lantern that emitted a soft, pleasant light.

Henry's mind immediately jumped to the outstanding bath. He grabbed his things, including the lantern, and, after some consideration, his sword too . . . just in case.

"Going to finally meet your eagerly awaited hot spring?"

"You bet," Henry said and spun around to Thanatos, who had raised his head, still dazed from sleep. He attempted to stretch his wings—not an easy feat in the considerably narrow cave.

"I will see you at breakfast then," the flier mumbled and Henry registered the furious growling of his own stomach for the first time. For a second, he considered eating first, but no. This bath couldn't wait a moment longer.

"Let us meet later by the lake. I'll eat and you can fill me in on any news."

The flier nodded and so they parted ways. Henry quickly found his way out of the system of halls and tunnels that made up the colony. Accompanied by the sounds of heavily rushing water, he made his way toward one of the caves behind the lake. When he found one that was hidden by a ledge, he finally began peeling off his clothes, disgustedly tossing them aside.

Entering the hot water was the best thing Henry had experienced since his fall. Better than the meal, even better than flying with Thanatos. None of it even came close.

Floating in the soothing, steaming pond and feeling the soft current tug at his skin, Henry closed his eyes, thinking he could stay here for the rest of his life. And so, despite feeling a growing hunger, he did nothing but relish the water, the steady, calm rushing, and the feeling of safety and tranquility he had nearly forgotten over the last month.

Half an hour must have passed when Henry finally rose, reluctantly acknowledging that all the stains and dirt he had collected likely wouldn't come off without a proper scrubbing.

Hoping the water would get deeper, he grabbed the lantern and waded further into the cave. The water level rose indeed, but never above his waist and the current was not strong, so he traversed effortlessly. Soon, Henry discovered the cave was a dead end; the water poured in through a hole at the back and created a small waterfall, which fed the river streaming into the lake outside.

The surface of the falling water was smooth, and the reflection from his light made it a decent mirror, but when he held the lantern higher to take a look, he froze in terror . . . at the face staring back at him out of the waterfall.

It took Henry a second to understand it was his own. Disbelievingly, he raised a hand and touched his cheek, half-expecting the reflection to not follow his movement. He hadn't had the chance to look into a mirror since he had left Regalia. He had specifically not sought mirroring surfaces out because . . . had he feared this? That what he would see would frighten him?

His mind reeled to what he had always looked like in mirrors. The man staring at him from the waterfall may have had his rough features—the shape of his face, his eyes, and hair—but otherwise, he surely had to be a stranger . . . With bulging, sunken eyes framed by purple bags and hollow cheeks. His hair was unkempt and too long; the tips nearly grazed his shoulders. It all—especially the downy beard he had neglected to shave—gave him the appearance of someone much older than sixteen.

What frightened him most, however, was how emaciated he looked. His shoulder bones were acute under his papery skin, as were his ribs. He must have lost at least twenty-five pounds. Head to toe, he was covered in stains, cuts, and bruises, some of which had already turned into scars, most prominently the still-fresh claw mark across his shoulder. They were red and white lines, marking his once flawless pale skin.

Henry stared at what had become of him for a while, trying to process it, and eventually turned away, carefully placing the lantern on a narrow ledge next to the waterfall. How could a single month in exile have changed him so much? Henry looked back again and suddenly, the sight filled him with despair, not shock.

He had always cared for his appearance and always invested time in it. He had worked out and cared for his hair and his skin . . . back when he could afford it.

Well, it wasn't like there were many girls for him to impress with his good looks out here. Henry gritted his teeth, playing with the golden earrings he had almost forgotten that he still had.

And he wouldn't have any reason to worry about anyone recognizing him, should he ever encounter humans, Henry thought bitterly as he waded over to his backpack with his personal necessities. He hadn't even recognized himself.

But it was not so bad because it was all fixable, he reminded himself. And it was about time for him to fix it.

***

After more than an hour of scrubbing and grooming, Henry still wasn't quite who he had been before, but at least the face that stared back at him from the waterfall looked somewhat like him again.

He had shaved, trimmed his hair back to its old length, arduously using his sword for the lack of better tools, and scrubbed his skin until no stains remained. He even cleaned his earrings; as he fastened the last of the three shiny golden rings, he pondered if he should maybe replace them. Even a small quantity of gold suddenly felt unsuitable to wear. Then again, he had nothing to put in their stead, and he was unwilling to leave the earholes unoccupied.

After shaving and tending to his hair, Henry thought he at least looked his age again. Well, for the most part. His features had still matured over the last few weeks, more than he had thought possible in such a short time.

Henry vividly remembered the face of the boy with the charming grin and the lively eyes, with his familiar body that had been well-nourished but toned—evidence he'd led the carefree life of a prince and yet had still worked out a lot. He thought of the boy so full of spirit and attractive confidence he used to see when looking into a mirror and shook his head at the gaunt, exhausted, and evidently pushed-to-his-limits shadow he saw now.

But eventually, he had to accept that he would likely never be that boy again. Not in body, and not in mind. The thought frightened him so much that he ceased his attempts and waded back to the entrance of the cave.

Reluctantly, he got out of the water, dried off, and re-bandaged his shoulder, which had started bleeding again from the scrubbing. Then he slipped into the fresh clothes—a relaxed, wide shirt with sleeves that fell just above the elbows, cinched at the waist by a belt with an intricate clasp, a pair of long pants from a sturdier material, and a matching pair of sandals. He combed his hair and packed away his things, then began making his way toward the great lake.

Only then did Henry acknowledge the growl of his stomach and how eagerly he anticipated breakfast. From the way he looked, he needed all the food he could get.

Despite the hunger, the drowsiness from the hot water, and the ache of his countless injuries and strained joints . . . now that he had bathed and changed his clothes, Henry felt better than he had in a long time. He felt like a human again instead of an animal on the run.

Enlivened by his successful morning, Henry quickened his pace, turning the corner around the rocks that had shielded him from the beach . . . on which he, to his surprise, spotted a picnic blanket and two familiar figures, helping themselves to the food they'd apparently packed: Platonius and Curie.

"Is there any room for me?" he called, waving the lantern in their direction. Curie rejoiced, squeaking and jumping up and down, and Platonius smiled.

"We were waiting for you. Thanatos said that he meant to meet up with you here later."

Henry sprinted the last few yards and plopped down next to the nibblers. He immediately reached for one of the grilled fish they had prepared, barely registering Platonius' widening eyes.

"Oh?"

Henry grinned. "I succeeded, didn't I? After—what, almost two hours? of trying to make myself look like an actual human again."

Platonius shook his head. "To be perfectly honest, had I not smelled you, I may not have recognized you."

"I'll take that as a yes." Henry reached into a basket filled with round, sweet pieces of fruit. "And as a compliment!"

***

"So, what is keeping Thanatos?" Henry finally asked about ten or so minutes into their picnic when the flier had still not arrived.

Curie had curled up on his lap, eating away at a single fish nearly as big as herself, and Platonius had already finished two of the same size. They both seemed to have washed and groomed themselves as well and they were visibly happy to be back home.

"When I last saw him, he was headed in the opposite direction from where we came yesterday," Platonius replied. "I don't know what he was looking for. But Henry—it was a pleasure to eat with you, but now it is time for Curie and I to go check up on her parents."

"Have I met her father yet?" Henry asked, tearing chunks from his second fish and placing them on a piece of bread to make a sandwich. He remembered Lovelace, but none of the nibblers he'd met so far had acted like her partner.

Platonius shook his head. "Teslas? No, I doubt that. He is . . . well, he is a quite gifted craftsman, but he prefers not to leave his workshop. He does not normally enjoy the company of anyone but his family." The nibbler laughed awkwardly. "We did see him yesterday after we returned, and he did express the wish to meet you and Thanatos, but, as I know him, he's probably already forgotten."

"Well, you have to introduce us at some point," Henry said and then asked what had occupied his mind over the course of the meal. "Has Lovelace mentioned how long we may stay?"

He urgently hoped they could stay at least a while longer. Now that they had rested and eaten, Henry had begun worrying they would be sent away. He didn't want to leave yet—this was, contrary to his expectations, by far the friendliest place he'd seen since his exile.

Platonius shook his head, guessing Henry's fears. "I do not think Lovelace will mind if you stay a little longer. She may ask you to help out, but we will shelter you gladly, at least for a while."

Henry threw the nibbler an overjoyed smile. "That would be excellent. It's quite the spot." He waved a hand toward the waterfall.

"It is," Platonius nodded. "That's why our ancestors chose this place to live after the gnawers had driven them into the jungle." Then the nibbler stood and beckoned Curie "Come on, let us see Mother and Father."

"Yes!" The baby chirped. She followed on her grandfather's tail, but not without rubbing her nose on Henry's shoulder one last time.

"We will see you," Platonius said to Henry, who shot them a wide grin and watched as they entered the vine curtain.

Henry waved until they had disappeared and then ate for another ten minutes, to the point where he couldn't stomach another bite. If he ate a little more for a while, maybe he could regain some weight.

He had just started packing away the remaining bread and fruit when the vines behind him rustled. He froze mid-movement and jumped around, raising a loaf of bread like a weapon. Then he recognized the familiar shape of a great black flier descending down onto the beach and eased up.

"Dammit!" Henry shook the bread loaf. "You scared me half to death—Death! And you're late." He laughed at his own joke as he sat back down, cross-legged, watching Thanatos land beside him.

"Since when does the capable warrior scare so easily?" the flier said and Henry death glared at him.

"So you are done with the hot spring, huh . . . Wait—what the hell?!"

Henry whipped around, confused. "Really?" He made a face at the flier's widened eyes. "Even you, who have traveled and lived with me for a month, do not recognize me? I mean, I get it; I barely recognized myself, but come on!"

"You—" Thanatos continued to stare at him as if he had spontaneously grown a third eye. "In my defense, I did not go out of my way to look at you more closely before. Most of the time, it was dark, and I am not so used to using my eyes to perceive, especially for something as mundane as appearances, but . . ." He narrowed his eyes. "Just . . . how old exactly are you?"

"Sixteen," Henry said, rolling his eyes. "Why?"

"Six—what?!" Thanatos' eyes widened and Henry glared at him again.

"I am—"

"For a human, you are . . . a child." The flier's voice sounded strange, as if he were conceding defeat. He sank back down across from Henry, shaking his head. "The beard made you look considerably older."

"I am of age!" yelled Henry, leaping to his feet.

"I know how slowly humans age," Thanatos interjected. "I have lived among them before. And you are a child. This . . ." He lowered his eyes, visibly re-evaluating everything that had happened and that he had seen from Henry so far. "This explains . . . so much. Everything, actually."

"I just said that I am of age!" Henry repeated, but Thanatos didn't even take notice.

"Of course you would be both smart and clueless. You would be reckless, restless, and naive, and you would require guidance—" He looked up, a look of utter terror in his eyes. "Oh no."

"Quit it," hissed Henry, pointing a finger at the flier. "I don't need a babysitter or a caregiver. You shall not treat me differently just because I am a little younger than you believed."

"Do you know how many times I have thought to myself something like, "He has neglected to grow out of his bratty phase"?" Thanatos said conversationally, stretching out beside the blanket and letting his eyes fall shut. "All while that was just what you were—a brat."

"I said you shall—"

"And you shall not give me orders, brat."

"Neither shall you!" Henry cried and blew out an angry breath. "I am of age and I will not be treated differently just because I am not old like you."

"I—" Thanatos' head flew up. "That . . . is not . . . I am not that—"

Henry laughed at the flier's mortified face until his stomach ached and he could no longer sit straight. "You are old," he wheezed. "If you think of me as a child, you have to be—"

"At least you look your age again," Thanatos cut him off sourly. "So there will be no more confusion."

Henry ceased laughing immediately. "You're right." He made a face. "I cannot blame you for not recognizing me; earlier, when I saw my reflection as it was before, it scared me half to death, also."

"If this is how you normally look, I can see why."

"No!" Henry cried in a sudden fit. "I do not look like before. I . . ." He hesitated. "I changed so much already; what will happen to me in, like, a year . . . ?"

Thanatos sighed, turning to face him. His expression was content, with a trace of amusement. "Oh, so now we are having that phase." Before Henry could interject, the flier continued: "Never mind that. Your life transformed so radically that a few physical changes were inevitable. You will get used to it, I promise."

Then he closed his eyes again, as if the conversation were over.

"You . . . wait, how long will it . . . What do you mean 'used to it'?" Henry had just spilled his most topical fear, and all he had gotten as a response was 'It's just a phase'.

Thanatos actually laughed this time. "Only that, someday, you will find out that you can only change as much as you allow yourself to change. For now . . . try not to overthink it."

"Oh, but if you can only change as much as you allow yourself to change, why did I lose, like, thirty pounds over the last month? I do not remember ever consenting to that!"

Thanatos laughed more. "Oh yes, what an important, irreversible change indeed."

The flier sounded oddly carefree, and, despite his lingering annoyance, Henry decided to leave it be. He was not in the mood for a prolonged argument. And, even if he'd never admit it, he made a mental note to give Thanatos' words some thought later. Only as much as he allowed himself to change . . . That was a theory worth testing.

"Hey," Henry said instead while stuffing the last supplies back into the picnic basket. "This is a nice place, no? You know what? Why do we not stay here awhile? Platonius said Lovelace would likely allow it."

"Oh?" Thanatos perked up. "What happened to "the jungle is a death trap, I'm not going there"?"

"Well, we passed the death trap part earlier."

Thanatos had no reply to that. When he didn't respond to his question either, Henry crossed his arms. "Come on, let us stay."

Thanatos raised a figurative eyebrow. "I thought you said you needed no babysitter. Why are you asking my permission, then?"

Henry's mouth snapped shut and the flier laughed. "Fine," he said eventually. "If you so desperately need my permission—"

"I do not!"

"If," Thanatos cut him off emphatically, "you so desperately need my permission, you have it. I have no other plans, anyway."

Henry glared at him, but he didn't say anything. Being able to stay here was more important than not being made fun of . . . maybe.