The morning came too soon for Abby. Bleary-eyed, she looked out through a window of brilliant glass stained orange. They were hundreds of feet in the air and the forest that had given Abby so much trouble earlier shone like an immense emerald in the distance.

Eyes still half-closed, Abby looked beside her and in her groggy stupor expected to see a small bundle of fur dozing off next to her head. But Lucy wasn't there and he wasn't small. He was an Aelurian, a massive cat creature of human proportions covered in fur and boasting an impressive pair of fangs and claws. She sighed, missing the cat's warmth, and sat up.

Margo, whom she thought would come bounding into her room, a flurry of energy and smiles, didn't show up. Instead, a slow knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Abby said, raising her hands above her head while she gave a small yawn.

Wearing robes the color of rust and sopping wet, Sebbi stood in the doorway. His figure gave Abby a small shock, and she remained still, arms up, mouth agape, face furiously red.

"Se-Sebbi," she stammered, making quick work to lower her arms and place them over the nightgown Fraga's daughter, Menna had given her last night. It wasn't shear but it was large, with a swooping neckline that showed a bit too much of Abby's collarbone.

They've seen you naked, her inner voice spat. Countless times as cats. Why was this any different?

Her voice had brought up a good question but Abby didn't have any good answers. Still, it didn't matter. Abby was thirteen, Sebbi was an Aelurian who could speak and probably, under all the fur, blush just as hard as she was now.

Quickly, Sebbi turned away from Abby and drew his attention to a particularly boring carved wooden desk. His feigned interest in it put a smile on Abby's face.

"I was told to come get you," he said, scratching at the tangle of fur on the back of his head that seemed unwilling to ever untangle itself.

"Ah, I see," Abby said and then, wanting to ease the awkwardness in the air, continued to say, "if you keep scratching your head like that, you'll have a bald spot." Like my doll, she thought. But as quickly as it came, the thought faded. Abby didn't have that doll anymore. It had burned up in the fire.

Drip. Drip.

More droplets of water fell from Sebbi, splattering the stone floor. "I scratch when I'm nervous," he said in a low growl.

Abby chuckled. "I've noticed. I just blush."

Sebbi looked down at her and smiled. "I'm probably blushing too under all this fur."

He grumbled and gave his head a little shake, more water dripping onto the floor. Sebbi now stood surrounded by a puddle of water, a quarter thick, that smelled strangely of flowers.

"Sebbi, why are you so wet?"

The cat-man looked miserably at the pool of water and gave it a thud with his tail. A small wave crashed against his sandaled foot. "They made me take a bath. I hate baths," he snarled.

Abby broke out in giggles. She couldn't help it. Sebbi towered over, streamlined and thick and twice her height and here he was complaining about a bath. Though, to be honest, Abby didn't like them all that much either. Too many foul scented soaps and bubble potions for her.

Sebbi returned his gaze to the floor where his pool of water was slowly expanding. "That old hag said I smelled." He extended his claws, and immediately his gaze was back on the unremarkable dresser, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Abby could tell he was thinking of shredding the dresser into wood chips.

"You smell?" Abby asked once her laughter subsided. Sebbi nodded. Abby'd been around him for a few days and she hadn't noticed he'd smelled. "I don't think you smell," Abby said thinking back to when Sebbi had helped her down the rock. "Though, you definitely have a scent."

This news of Sebbi smelling didn't help appease the cat-man's souring mood.

Abby was quick to clarify. "You smell like wet grass and leaves."

He frowned and swatted at the tasseled cord hanging around his waist. "That's what the hag said too before she pushed me in the bath."

"But it's not a bad scent," Abby protested and then before she could stop herself before she could even think of stopping herself, she said, very unabashedly, "You smell like home."

Abby gaped. Why had she said it like that? She felt herself blush and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. She'd gone straight past that horrible shade of tomato red to maroon, her face blotchy with purple-colored horror. She looked straight at the floor, playing with the long sleeve of the robe Menna had left for her. Sebbi didn't say anything and it was making the awkwardness all the worse.

Great, Abby thought. She just had to use her big mouth to say something weird again. 

Though, there'd been truth in what she'd said. She shouldn't have said it out loud, but Sebbi did smell like home. She could almost picture it when she breathed him in. The hills, like deep green waves cresting and falling across the horizon. Laos seated comfortably in the distance on the edge of the Fragilli, raucous noise echoing from the streets. And there, on the top of the hill, furthest back behind the stone house Abby had called home, sat a slouching Simon Ogretree, surrounded by other dead trees, the place where Abby felt the most at home.

Sebbi's scent reminded Abby of the way the trees' sparse yellowed leaves blew on the wind, the smell of grass, the feeling of sunlight beating down on her neck, the sea breeze come nightfall. Sebbi smelled like home, there was no doubt in that, but why, why oh why, had she spoken those words out loud?

Abby looked down miserably at her hands, unsure of where to go from the verbal hole she'd dug for herself, but Sebbi seemed determined to end the awkwardness.

"I'm sure Lucy and I smell the same," Sebbi said, stepping out of his puddle. His fur had begun to dry, frizzy strands of fur zig-zagging outward from his face and body.

Abby hadn't thought of that. She'd only ever really smelled Sebbi because he'd been so close to her. Maybe, they did smell the same. Maybe what she'd said, hadn't been all that awkward. Her cheeks began to cool. And then, Lucy, wearing robes of deep magenta, bounded into the room and plopped onto Abby's bed. It creaked under his weight, but it'd been built with an Aelurian in mind, so the old wood just bowed a bit instead of splintering into pieces.

"Love," he said, wrapping his long arms around Abby. "Morning!" He beamed at Abby, his fur free of any dirt or leaves and brushed through, each strand lying neatly along his face and body. He smelled like soap.

"Did you get a bath too?" she asked as she reached up to scratch him behind his ear. She froze mid-way, realizing she only used to scratch him when he'd been a regular old cat. Now that he was much, much bigger, it might be a little strange to scratch him. "Sorry," she said, placing her hand back on her lap. "Force of habit."

Lucy placed his large, furred hand on top of hers. "It's okay," he said. "I don't mind if you continue to pet me."

Sebbi snorted. "I do," he hissed.

As if noticing his brother's presence in the room for the very first time, Lucy looked toward him and cocking his head said, "And why's that?" He smiled. "She pet me all the time before."

"You were a cat," Sebbi hissed.

Lucy looked down at himself, then back at Sebbi. "I still am a cat," he said, swatting his tail back and forth for effect.

Sebbi growled. "You know what I mean."

With a grin and a glint in his eyes, Lucy said, "Oh, I do, do I?"

Sebbi wheeled around, and with that familiar Sebbi scowl, stormed from the room. 

Abby crossed her arms and looked at Lucy.

"What?" he asked his hand across his chest.

Abby quirked an eyebrow but didn't speak.

Lucy looked uncomfortably from her to the window. "What?" he asked again. "I didn't do anything."

"Why must you ruffle his feathers?"

Lucy sighed. "By the looks of his fur, he doesn't need his feathers more ruffled up than they already are."

Abby slapped the cat-man gently on his arm. "You know what I mean."

Lucy waved an arm. "He's my little brother, it's what I do." Then, turning back toward Abby, he said, "Besides, something weird happened between you two, the air in here was stifling."

Abby blushed. "Ho-how did—"

Lucy's lips pulled into a wide smile. "I didn't," he whispered. "Not until now."

Flustered she had been ousted by a cat-man who smelled more floral then the gardens of Midena, Abby grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at Lucy with all her might. It hit him squarely in the face before falling to the floor with a thud.

"Ow," he said, grabbing his nose. One of his whiskers was bent. "Why'd you do that?"

"You deserved it," she said, smiling.

Lucy bent over and plucked the pillow off the ground. "This is heavy you know," he said. "You heard the sound it made as it landed on the floor. You could have broken my handsome face."

"My," Abby began. "That would have been devastating. You without your looks, why you'd have to rely on your personality and," she grimaced and shook her head, "I don't think you'd last very long on personality alone."

Instead of looking angered, Lucy wrapped Abby up in another of his big embraces. Whispering in her ear he said, "You get me."

Abby chuckled. Even if they couldn't sleep in the same bed anymore, Lucy could still be beside her and what's more, she could talk all she wanted to him. Abby took a breath and wrinkled her nose. Lucy's fur was perfumed in floral scents but underneath it all, she thought she caught the faintest whiff of something deep and rich, like the smell of freshly laundered sheets.

Sebbi and Lucy didn't smell the same.

Breakfast was a strange, seedy pudding Abby had never seen before. Fraga told her it was called, "dragon's hide," because of the way it looked. Unfortunately, Abby thought the name dragon's hide could have also applied to the pudding's texture as well. It was hard to swallow each gulp of pudding—Aelurians apparently were against utensils—but Abby was grateful to have a big mug of warm milk to wash it all down. By the time they were finished, Fraga was dragging Margo off and while Menna set to clearing off the table, offered the bath to Abby. She obliged.

Menna took her to a large circular room, which like the rest of the temple, had been carved from the stone, and polished many times over until it reflected the sun that flooded in from the far side of the room, where large windows had been carved out. The wind moved through the room and took with it the stagnant, frail air that filled the other rooms. Abby nodded toward Menna, thanked her, and watched as she scurried back toward the upper rooms.

Left alone, Abby couldn't remember the last time she'd been in a bath alone. She'd always been accompanied by Mimi who'd lathered her hair for her and reprimanded her when she hadn't cleaned thoroughly enough behind her ears. Come to think of it, Abby hadn't done much of anything on her own. Her clothes had always been picked out for her, her baths drawn, and no matter how much she felt like she was alone, she hadn't been, until now.

Abby removed her robe and slipped a few toes into the sparkling, clear water. "Oh!" she yelped, quickly removing her toes. It was icy cold. She looked around but found no faucet, no thermostat to adjust the temperature.

"Come to think of it," she said quietly, "how'd they even get the water in here in the first place?" Had Menna and the others filled the pool by bucket? No, that would have taken to long and they had all been present at breakfast. So, how had it gotten here?

Pushing the myriad of questions from her mind, Abby steeled her nerve and dipped her toes back into the icy water only, this time, the water wasn't freezing. It was warm.

"How?" she said, dipping her leg into the pool. Delightfully warm water splashed against her skin. "But it was freezing a few moments ago."

She was shoulder deep in the water now, it still just as warm as it had been. She moved toward the middle, running her feet along the bottom, searching for any drains. There were none. Then she moved to the far end of the pool, where a few smoothed raised stones lined the basin. She rested her neck along one and closed her eyes.

She thought of the sea. And then, a pop sounded. The water started to lap against her. Her eyes snapped open and she saw the water rising and falling like waves. The water had grown a bright green, the color of the Fragilli during sundown. The breeze that swept around her now was briny and curious, Abby cupped a bit of the water and brought it to her mouth. Immediately, she spat it out. "Salt," she said, wishing she could wash the taste from her mouth. Another pop and the water stopped moving, the color running clear. Abby took a sip of this water, cool and crisp like mountain runoff.

"What in the world?"

"It's magick," a quiet voice spoke up. Menna stood in the chamber, a robe and a few fresh towels in her arms. "Do you not have magick in your world?"

Abby shook her head. "Not like this," she said running her hands through the crystal clear water.

Menna nodded thoughtfully. "You're from Exul?"

"We call it Mirea, but yes, I am."

Abby shoved her head underneath the water and shot up. Menna smiled. "You know, if you wanted to, you could even breath under the water."

Abby's eyes sparkle. "Is this what mages learn up here? To control elements like water?" she asked excitedly. Not noticing the growing frown on Menna's face, she continued. "I saw Fraga use fire. And Margo, I think froze time or something. Is that magick you learn here too?"

"If that is what you think the Order is for," Menna said, throwing the towels and robe to the ground, "That we come here to enchant water for our unwanted hemma guests, then you are mistaken," she spat.

Abby froze in the middle of the water. She hadn't known what she'd done. "Menna," she began, "Menna, I'm--"

"There is a cost to magick," Menna said coolly. "We do not sacrifice that which we cherish above all else just to perform silly tricks."

"I'm sorry, Menna," Abby said. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm really, truly sorry."

Menna's face grew soft, her shoulders slumped. "Fine," she said tersely and turned to leave.

Before she could, Abby, unable to stop herself spoke up, "Menna, if you don't mind me asking, what is it you sacrifice to use magick?"

Menna stopped. Her tail thudded hard against the stone floor. Without turning back to face Abby, she answered, "Life," and left the chamber.

Life. Though the word had been said barely above a whisper, it seemed to have echoed throughout the bathing chamber like a gunshot. Abby stood in the pool, skin getting as wrinkled as a prune, wondering if Menna had told her the truth. The young cat-woman had no reason to lie to Abby but at the same time, she also had no reason to tell her the truth. But it couldn't be. To use magick, you had to sacrifice your life? What did that mean? Margo had used magick and she was still as alive as you could get--

Her necklace.

She'd kept that nearer to her than her few hunks of cheese, and what could mousy Margo value more than her cheese? Maybe her life. Maybe that stone and its odd two-tone coloring were more than just a stone. Maybe, it was a way for Margo to measure her time left, maybe the color drained from it each time she used magick? If that was the case, then that'd mean when Margo had protected them, stopped everything so Abby could say goodbye to her father—

Had Margo given up some of her life just so Abby could have her goodbye?

Abby shook her head. No, it couldn't be. Why would Margo have done that? Certainly, the price of magick couldn't be that high, could it?

By the time, Abby had managed to get out of the bath, she was as wrinkled and pink as a newborn rabbit. She dressed in the robes Menna had left for her, a bright red robe two sizes too big for her with a hole cut out in the back for the tail she didn't have. It came with a braided cord which Abby was able to comfortably wrap around her waist four times. She looked like a squashed version of a wizard from one of her picture books, cartoonish and silly. Modern wizards like the great Wizard Kellog had swapped long robes along time ago for streamlined tunics and straight legged trousers. He'd said once that fashion didn't make the wizard, the magick did, though a well-made suit couldn't hurt.

Pulling up at the sleeves which fell a few feet longer than her fingers, she trudged back up to the main hall, tripping on the robe every other step. By the time she was reunited with everyone, she was sure they would laugh. But they didn't. They all shared similar grim expressions as they stood huddled together around a table. Abby inched closer. Stretched out on the table was a dark red cloth.

No one seemed to notice her. Abby walked closer and then she noticed the edges of the cloth weren't red, they were white. The red was a stain, spreading and spreading. Blood, it was blood. Drops of it dripped onto the stone. She heard someone sobbing, softly, saw tears fall onto the cloth. Lucy had an arm hovering just over Margo's hunched shoulder, wavering between touching her and not.

Abby gulped.

Fraga was the one to notice her, and with no softness in her voice, she said, "Hestor's dead." 

Abbernathy Fun Fact 14: One of my favorite characters in Abby's story, not including Abby herself, has yet to make his debut. ^-^