It wasn't as simple as telling the parents their daughter was an imposter.

Tension hung over the family in the days after my miraculous return. The lock on the tavern's front door was checked three times before bed. Chores were completed in suspenseful silence, as if an attack was suspected at any moment.

Sampson's obsession with the wolf continued, as did his copious consumption of ale. Angela became more protective, to the point where Moira was often found wearing a length of rope around her waist, with the other end secured around her mother.

And there was the changeling, poised and ready, keeping a watchful eye on me at all times.

I was tense, too. Every minute that passed without action was a minute wasted. Cunning had never been my strongest attribute—nor had good sense. I needed them both now, for my list of goals was short but difficult:

Expose the changeling.

Find the real Moira and bring her home.

The tavern felt less like a safe place and more like the setting for an impending battle. 

It crossed my mind more than a few times that my enemy might change me into a wolf again. I didn't know how the magic worked or if it could be summoned a second time, but I trusted that the changeling had a few tricks up its sleeve.

The hutch, I noticed, had been neglected in my absence. It was obvious the changeling had finished the other hares, and the dwelling was half torn apart, with nobody bothering to rebuild it.

Each morning I joined Sampson to set the traps, but now there was a new task added to our routine: Hunting a wolf.

I never spoke against the fruitless pursuit, but wandered through the trees with Sampson, watching in silence as the man drank himself into a state of discontent. I no longer played with Moira after my chores. Instead, I retreated into my room to rehearse my plans. Changing into the wolf, I loathed to admit, was a crucial piece.

Or rather, changing into the wolf with my control intact.

I had to keep faith that such a thing was possible.

At night, I tried to will myself into shedding my human body. The changeling could do it, so I certainly had the power, didn't I? 

Grow fur, I'd demand my body. Grow claws and teeth—now!

My body didn't listen.

Days were passing, and Moira could be slipping into further danger. I couldn't wait to master the animal. Wolf or not, the time to act had arrived.

The family ate its last dinner in silence.

There were no guests at the tavern save the one man who'd been present for my naked entrance. He had a thin build shrouded by a cloak and a forlorn face framed by messy black hair. He was the sort of person who didn't seek friendly conversation, but kept to himself and only spoke when he wanted food or drink.

A man who left things alone. I appreciated him for that.

He finished his meal and left after placing a coin on his seat.

The family was alone, and now I had my chance to strike.

"Angela," I began in my sweetest voice, "I wanted to speak with you, but I don't wish to be rude."

"What is it?"

"It seems...well...ever since I came back things have been a little different."

"In what way?"

"You and Sampson always look concerned."

"We are. We don't want danger to come to you or Moira." She winced before adding, "Again."

"But...you used to smile more. And Sampson used to laugh. Even Moira—" I turned to the child, who had purposefully sat herself near me to keep watch, "—doesn't seem as happy. I wish things could be like they were before."

Moira's eyes narrowed. A tingle ran across my spine and I feared it hadn't been a shiver, but the first warning of the wolf. I ignored it and gave a dramatic sigh.

"I wish there was a way for me to give you and Sampson a rest from your worries."

I'd rehearsed these words a hundred times. I hoped my act was convincing, and would sway the woman to my purpose.

All my practice proved pointless, however, when Angela proposed my plan for me.

"Come to the kitchen and help me with dishes."

I followed her through the door and she turned to me, speaking in a low, hushed tone.

"I've been wanting to ask a favor." Her eyes went to the floor. "With all that's happened, Sampson and I haven't had much time...alone. Perhaps we've felt guilty of neglecting you and Moira...Maybe it's our punishment for allowing you to be taken away—"

"No! Please, don't think like that."

"If we could just have a moment alone..." She blushed. "There's a reckoning we need to have. No, a conversation. About important things. It might not be what Sampson wants to hear, and I'd rather Moira not see her parents in such a state. If it's not too big an ask, I was hoping you wouldn't mind keeping Moira in your room. Just for tonight! Just while Sampson and I talk. We could move her crib next to your bed. I want to be sure she'll be safe, and I know you'll protect her." Her eyes rose to meet mine and there was a great shame in her expression. "I shouldn't be asking this of you."

I took her hand and squeezed it.

"You and Sampson saved my life. Watching Moira for one night is the least I can offer, so I'm happy to do it."

Angela burst from the kitchen with a beaming smile, and I followed after.

"Moira," she called in a giddy voice, "tonight we have a special surprise for you! We're going to move your crib into Josiah's room, and he's going to watch over you! Won't that be fun?"

The child's face went red. Without warning, Moira threw a marvelous tantrum. She shrieked and punched the air. She screamed that she didn't want to go with me, she didn't like me, she was afraid, she needed her mother.

Every tactic was attempted.

And it almost worked.

"Maybe we should try another night," Angela said as she struggled with Moira, "when she's in a better mood."

"She'll exhaust herself and sleep more soundly," I promised. I leaned in and whispered to her, "You have important matters to tend to."

I cast a pitiful glance at Sampson, who'd barely spoken a word the entire evening and was now half asleep over his mug.

Angela gave a grim nod.

"Spot on, Josiah."

I helped Angela move Moira's crib into my room. The child continued to wail and pound her fists against Angela's legs, but the mother would not be moved. When Angela picked Moira up to place her in the crib, the child pulled her mother's hair and tried to bite her shoulder.

"I've never seen her like this! It's like she's possessed!"

"Probably another growing pain," I suggested over Moira's cries.

The child stood in the crib, red-faced and clutching for her mother.

"Pay no attention to her crying," I told Angela. "I'm with her, everything will be fine."

Angela dodged tiny fists to place a kiss on Moira's head. She gave one to me before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

"We'll see you in the morning," I called to the door.

Whatever's left of us.

I locked the door and turned to the changeling. I didn't know if the creature would use magic to escape, but I was ready for an attempt to be made.

The changeling erupted into more crying, but it ceased after a few minutes when it realized Angela would not be placating a brat that night. It turned its attention to the crib and began tearing into the mattress and pillow. Feathers danced in the air, and I leaned against the door with a sly grin, watching with growing amusement as the creature wore itself out.

A ripped pillow and blanket landed near my feet. Teeth marks were embedded into the wooden frame of the crib.

The changeling could chew it to dust, for all I cared.

It was an oddly powerful feeling, being in the room with a monster. There was an eerie familiarity, and I recalled the moment when the demon inside of Pa had trapped me in our home. How scared and helpless I was.

This time it was different. I was older and stronger. No longer afraid of the darkness.

I was convinced I had the upper hand.

At last, Moira fell onto her bottom and crossed her arms.

"I'm glad you've gotten that out of your body," I sneered, repeating a line Pa would give when I proved petulant. "Now we can talk."

"Damn your talking! Damn your eyes and the air you breathe!"

It was funny to hear such foulness from so tiny a voice.

"Now, now. That's no way to speak to an elder."

"Elder?" Moira's eyebrow raised. "How old do you think we are, boy?"

"You don't look a day over three years."

"Daft idiot! If you knew how—"

"I don't care how old you are or how powerful your magic is. I don't believe you're as strong as you claim."

"Oh?"

"You would have attacked me or escaped. Instead, you've ruined a bed. Not much to be threatened by."

A small tingle ran over my arms.

"Turned you into that animal, we did. Could do it again."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please, don't. How ever will I handle you with claws and teeth?"

My reply gave the changeling pause. Its eyes held a whisper of fear.

"What will you do with us?"

"I'll have answers from you."

"And?"

"We'll see what else after."

"Is it wishes you need, boy? Maybe wings to fly or food that never rots. Maybe it's—"

"I don't believe you can give any of those things. You've got little tricks and nothing more. And you know how to take the joy from those around you."

Moira nodded. "That is power."

"Or a poor excuse for it."

"Fool's can't understand the finer points of deception and draining."

"Is that what you're doing? Draining the life of everyone in the tavern?"

"Make 'em sad. Make 'em mad. Make 'em tired. Never glad."

"Why?"

"Gives us strength, doesn't it?"

"I thought you were old and dying."

"Course we are! Just time enough for a bit of fun."

"That's not fun, that's hideous."

A wicked glint flashed in the changeling's eyes.

"That's what we do."

"And your precious Mum? Where is she?"

"Far."

"How far?"

"Miles and years."

"I saw your friends snap and disappear. They created a window with magic. They can travel quickly, why can't you?"

"We like it here."

"No. You were telling the truth before. You're old and you don't have any real power. That's good news for me."

"You dare?!" The changeling raised its fist. "We'll show you power, yes!"

I waited for something to happen, but after a moment the changeling's brave words were proven lies.

With a huff, Moira's hand lowered.

"The real Moira will be brought back," I said. "And because you cannot bring her here, you'll have to show me the way to your home."

"Why would we do that?"

Be convincing, I thought.

"I hoped you'd ask. When you changed me, you said I'd be stuck until I learned how to become a boy again. Well, I did just that. I can control the wolf now, and when I transform, you'll be trapped in this room with it."

"Why would we bring a wolf to our queen?"

"You won't see the morning sun unless you do."

"We could let you eat us up, so the humans find what remains of the girl."

"You're not brave enough for that."

"Brave enough, maybe not. Spiteful though? Most definitely."

Heat rose in my stomach. A prick of pain hit the back of my neck.

Stop it, I demanded my body.

"If that's the path you choose," I said through gritted teeth, "it's a problem I'm ready to deal with."

Noise from another room startled us. Something shattered against the wall, and muffled shouting came after. Sampson and Angela were arguing.

"We do fine work," the changeling said, "those two will tear each other to pieces."

A punch landed in my stomach from the inside. I bent over and blew out several puffs of air.

Stop, I screamed in my mind. STOP THIS INSTANT!

In a few seconds the pain lessened—but did not disappear.

I stood to find Moira peering at me with curious eyes.

"We'll begin our journey now," I declared.

I moved to my bed and slipped a hand under my pillow.

"To our queen then, wolf," the changeling said with a sigh. "But you must open the door first."

I was prepared for this.

From beneath the pillow, I pulled a length of chain. One end was circled to create a necklace that could be tightened and loosened. Sampson used it to haul bigger game from the forest, and I had stolen it two mornings ago. In his current daily state, and with the dwindling of animals as the season shifted, the chain's disappearance had gone unnoticed thus far.

One of the many lessons taken from our parents was how to defend against lesser wicked beasts. I silently thanked Ma and Pa for their discipline, for it was because of them that I remembered iron hurt imps and goblins. It wouldn't kill them, but certainly hamper their power and strength.

I hoped changelings shared the same weakness.

"You'll wear this."

Moira jumped back at the sight of the chain. She thrashed her head to and fro and spat and cursed at the object.

"We cannot wear it—we won't! It will kill us!"

"We'll not leave until you put it on."

"Never! Not in all our lifetimes! We'll die before!"

"Then I'll put it on you."

The changeling cowered.

"Horrible! Wretched! Foul! Damned human irons! No, no, no!"

It snapped its teeth and scratched my arms as I took hold of its body. It resumed screaming and wailing, but I slipped the loop over its head all the same.

The second the iron touched it, the changeling's skin sizzled and a wisp of smoke rose from the connection. The changeling released a long hiss as the iron slightly melted into its flesh, settling like a heavy lock around its neck. It would leave a grotesque mark, but there was something satisfying in that thought.

"You put us on a leash," it moaned.

"Needed a way to keep hold of you." 

I wrapped the other end of the chain around my hand and gave a slight tug to ensure the hold was secure.

Another round of yelling came from Sampson and Angela's room. I cast a concerned glance at the door, having no desire to hear them in distress. Grateful as I was that their attention was occupied, a tinge of worry hit my mind, of what they would think if the changeling and I were still gone when morning came. I assured myself that when the real Moira was returned, all despair would disappear. 

I yanked on the chain.

"Climb out of the crib."

I assumed the most difficult obstacle was yet to come, for I was certain the changeling would scream as we made our way out of the tavern, or try to overturn a chair or table to create commotion. To my surprise, the creature remained silently compliant, only releasing a series of whimpers and gasps in response to the pain around its neck. From the main room of the tavern Angela and Sampson's voices were more clear, and their hateful words made me wince. I scowled at the changeling, who wore a satisfied sneer.

"Ah, we do good work," it mumbled.

"More reason to get you away from this place. Move."

The moon was bright, but I had little use for it as my eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and I could see as well as if it had been dusk. I assumed the wolf had something to do with it, and almost wanted to thank it for strengthening my vision. When we reached the porch I checked the chain on my prisoner's neck, making sure it could not slip free, then pushed the beast in front of me.

"Take me to your home."

I'm not sure which hurt more, the changeling's skin or its pride. It rose to its feet and spat near mine.

"When we're free, we'll tear your eyes out," it promised.

"I'll be watching, and if I think you're trying to escape, if I get the slightest sense that you're looking for a weakness in the iron, the wolf will tear your throat."

The changeling scoffed. "The boy has never killed. It's plain to our eyes."

"Your eyes lie. Walk."

We made our way into the trees.

"Humans think they've got all the know-how," the changeling mused. "Fables and rules. Mostly lies. Mostly."

"The iron wasn't a lie."

"Was a clever trick," the changeling begrudged. "How did it know?"

"Be quiet."

Its steps were too slow for my patience.

"Go faster. I expect to find your home before sunrise. If not—"

"Our life is contained to this one night?"

"It is."

"Oooh. Bad thing, bad news. Might've said sooner. We'll never reach Mum in time to save us."

"There are secret pathways throughout the woods. At some point you'll get desperate enough to show me one."

The changeling continued its meandering pace, grumbling as it went. As night wore on my guide attempted to goad me into a fight, but I ignored the impulse to fall for its distractions. 

Our pace was easy, but sweat broke across my brow.

An urging rose within me.

I clenched my teeth and forced it down.

When dawn approached the changeling grew excited, and I could feel by the desperate pull of the leash that we were approaching something meaningful. It stopped and turned to me.

"Well, where are we going?" I asked. "Sun's about to rise, your time is ending."

It pointed at a thicket of trees ahead.

"There!"

It extended the full length of the chain to race toward the trees.

"Come, come!"

The scent of smoke hit my nose. That meant a fire. Did changelings bother with such things?

Together, we pushed through the low branches.

I wasn't sure what I expected to see. Some sort of castle, maybe, or ruins crawling with green-skinned devils.

"There it is," the changeling announced. "Home."

My heart fell.

Before us sat the tavern, with smoke rising from its chimney.

We'd spent the entire night walking in a circle, and I'd been so focused on keeping my prisoner secure that I hadn't realized it, not once.

This pointless quest had been planned from the start.

I looked down at the changeling and felt fury take hold. The monster grinned, satisfied by its deception.

"What will the boy do now?"

My reply came as a sharp ring of pain through my body.

"No," I groaned. "No, not now—not here!"

I'd fought it back all night long.

"I will not be changed!"

"Does it need our help?" the changeling offered.

I wrapped my hands around its neck. The changeling sputtered and gasped, but it was not a scream my grip cut off.

It was triumphant laughter.

A voice in my mind uttered a single word:

Free.

The hair on my arms stood up. Something pushed on my insides.

I didn't have the strength to fight it, and fell into the transformation with hopeless resignation.