Since giving up its ruse, the changeling had remained silent, but when Sampson and Angela disappeared it attempted an attack on the man who bought us. 

The man must have suspected it, as he nimbly dodged the fingers that tried to scratch him, then yanked on the leash and pulled the changeling to the ground.

"Amusing as your desperation is, we've got little time for it." 

He snapped his fingers, and in a shocking display of magic the skin on the changeling's face and body began to fall away. Moira's face tore down the center, revealing green beneath. The changeling fought to keep its disguise, grabbing pieces of fake skin from the ground and slapping them back onto its gruesome face.

It was no use, and in less than a minute the façade was gone, shattered into slivers that lay upon the ground like shards of broken glass. The horrid face that was left sported a hundred wrinkles and a scowl filled with gnarled, cracked teeth. Without a costume to shield it, the iron chain sunk deeper into the creature's neck and shoulders. The monster howled, but the man remained unmoved. He stood back, admiring his work, until the changeling's voice waned and its breath became labored. 

"One thing you lot are good for," the man remarked smugly, "is proving to be the most foolish entertainment."

With the first prisoner subdued, the man turned his attention to me.

"Need to get that trap off you. But first we need to make sure you won't try to run."

"How could I?" I hissed in pain. "My leg's caught."

"An animal in distress will always attempt escape, even at the cost of a limb." 

He produced a length of rope and slipped a circle of it around my neck to create a second leash. The man was so convinced that his first prisoner would not run that he dropped the end of the iron chain to administer to me. He assumed rightly, and the changeling did nothing but lay on the ground and gasp for air.

"This should keep you," the man said as he knotted the rope. 

He opened the trap and lifted my leg from it, then gently placed it on the ground. There was more pain, I found, in the releasing of the teeth than in their biting. Before I could ask what he was doing, the man smothered a paste over my skin and wrapped it in a cloth. It happened so fast that I had no clue where he was procuring his items from, but I figured a man capable of melting a changeling's skin had more than a little magic.

"My legs have all the bad luck," I mumbled to myself as I watched him work.

"What was that?" 

"Nothing."

He helped me to my feet, a surprisingly kind motion, and made sure I could balance enough to walk. When I moved it was painful, and with a heavy limp.

"Don't worry that," the man said of my altered gait, "it won't last. For now, at least, it gives me the advantage of keeping you from running away. You're lucky that trap didn't bite clear through your bones."

"Are we traveling far?" I ventured to ask.

"Not as far as you'd think. The two of you will take the lead, and I will guide your direction."

"Can't walk," the changeling groaned. "Iron's too hot! Makes us too weak to carry our weight!"

The man's answer was a hard pull that brought the changeling to its feet. It whined and complained, but began to walk all the same.

We'd barely traveled an hour when the man stopped our party. After tying our leashes to a tree, he sat against the trunk and sighed. I had no interest in speaking to him, but was curious why he needed to rest so soon.

The man pulled a slip of paper and a quill from his pockets and began to write. When he was finished, he rolled the paper into a tube before turning his attention to the ground. He sifted through the dirt until he found a worm, and after a brief examination of the annelid he smiled. He brought it close to his mouth and whispered something I could not hear, then, with the utmost care, he wrapped the worm around the paper, placed it back into the small hole he'd dug, and buried it.

The changeling and I exchanged a confused glance. The man leaned back against the tree, and when he noticed the odd stares coming from his captives he chuckled. 

"Worms are the fastest and most reliable way to travel a letter," he said as if it made perfect sense. "Should be little time now."

Unfortunately, he was right.

The man produced a pipe. He packed and lit it, then took a few slow puffs. I had just enough seconds to wonder where the fire to light the leaf came from before the ground began to shake.

The changeling and I exchanged another look, this time full of worry. Whatever was happening, it meant nothing good for either of us. Our captor stood and moved from the tree. He watched with glee, taking more drags of his pipe, as the ground where he'd placed the worm cracked and opened.

An ominous doorway formed in the earth, widening enough to fit a man as big as Pa through. From the hole spilled an eerie orange glow, which bathed all of our faces in its hue. A pair of hands appeared from the hole, humanlike at first glance, but recognized as something different by the dark, curved talons in place of nails. Another pair, identical to the first, joined quickly after, and all four claws dug into the outer edge of the hole to pull their owners up and out.

What crawled from the earth were two of the strangest things I've ever seen. They had the bare chests of men, but their heads resembled crows. Their arms and legs were shaped like a human but were covered in black feathers. Around their necks hung magnificent cowls, dark as night and shining under the sun. Their feet were the same as their hands, with five toes all ending in talons. Their beady eyes glowed with the same orange as the hole they had risen from. Inside one of their beaks was the worm and letter, which were both quickly devoured in a rapid gulp.

"Took you long enough," the man joked. The crow men returned his greeting with blank stares and cocked heads. "I'll ask you again to stop eating my letter bearers. They'll be less willing to carry messages if you keep killing them."

The crows nodded, but it was clear even to me that it was not an agreement to honor the man's wish.

"Won't waste our time," the man said. He moved to the changeling and presented it with a bow. "Found a changeling taken in by a poor tavern family. Nothing special about the creature, and rather old by the look of it. Only good as feeder, I know, so the usual price will do." 

The changeling gawked, obviously offended, but the man had already moved on to me. I was presented with another courteous bow.

"Now this is something special. You see a boy, yes, but it is not a boy. It is a wolf, and very young, too. You'll get many seasons from him if he proves worthy." The man gestured for his guests to come closer. "Please, inspect both at your leisure."

The crow men gave the changeling no more than an unimpressed glance. Insulted, the changeling snapped at them but was quickly put in its place by a harsh slap from the man.

When the crow men came to me their eyes glowed brightly, showing a keen interest and excitement. To my horror, they began to poke and prod me with their talons. They opened my mouth to examine my teeth. They scratched my arms until I winced in pain. They passed my middle and I covered myself with my hands—I was naked after my recent change and had no intention of allowing them to inspect there—but the crow men's focus drifted downward to my bandaged leg. They pushed on the wound, and when I yelped they turned to the man expectantly.

"A minor injury," he said with a shrug, "but fully capable of healing without a limp. He's a fighter, that one, I can tell. He even tried to be a hero at the tavern. Imagine what you could do with that."

The crow men tore the cloth from my body. One of them grabbed my leg while the other waved its hand over the wound. In an instant the skin began to knit together, and by the time I took three breaths the gashes were gone without a trace of scarring.

My leg was released and the crow men nodded and motioned for me to move. Hesitantly, I put my weight onto the hurt leg and found I was able to walk without impediment. The man chuckled. 

"See? Nothing to worry over. Nothing to do but sit back and watch the profit roll in from his entertainment. Now, about my own profit—"

The crow men tossed a pouch of coins at the man's feet. He counted the contents quickly and shook his head.

"Need more for the wolf, I'm afraid. He's a rare find and you know it."

I expected an argument, but the crow men simply produced another sack of coins and threw it to the ground. The man did not count the money this time.

"Aye, that should do it. A pleasure, as always."

He turned and walked into the trees, whistling a happy tune as he went.

The crow men waved their hands and the bindings that held their captives disappeared. My companion was desperate, and when it was free it attempted an escape.

Quick as a snap one of the crow men threw a strange weapon towards it; a long chain with a curved hook at the end. The hook sank into the changeling's shoulder, and it was slowly dragged toward the glowing hole. With a final cry for help, the changeling disappeared into the ground with its captor.

The remaining crow man looked at me as if waiting for me to flee.

"It doesn't matter if I run, does it?" I asked.

The crow man blinked.

I held my hand out in surrender and was promptly slung over the crow man's shoulder. As it walked to the orange pit, I shuddered. I wanted to be brave, but could not stop the sobs from leaving my lips, and watched my tears fall and disappear into the glossy cowl.

The crow man jumped into the hole, and then there was nothing but orange all around me.

The color disappeared after a second or two, and the orange was replaced with a void as black as the plumage that adorned my new jailor.