“She took a ski trip yesterday with some other young people from the lodge. I think she lost the necklace somewhere along the trail. For her whole life, I’ve warned her to take care of that necklace. And now she’s taken that so much to heart that she thinks her life is less important than a stupid shiny string of rocks!”
“I .... think you’re right,” Maggie said slowly. “I found her crying in the room yesterday. She was talking about her mom. I just thought she was upset because it’s Christmastime and she misses having a mom, but it seemed like more than that.”
“She’s out there somewhere.” Sam stared out at the snow. “I’ll get a search party together. There can’t be too many places?—”
“No, listen.” Maggie gripped his arm firmly. Conviction settled on her. “I can find her.”
Breaking out of his fugue of worry and self-recrimination, Sam turned to look at her directly. “How?”
“Remember what you said yesterday, that we couldn’t really get lost, because I could scout the way home? I have wings, Sam. From the air, from high enough up, she’ll stand out like a beacon in that pink coat.”
Sam gazed at her for a few seconds. “Your arrangement with Hester depends on not shifting,” he said quietly.
“I know. But what does that matter, if Charlie is in danger? So Hester will kick me out.” Maggie squared her shoulders. “It won’t be the first time I’ve been fired. You get a backup team of searchers together here, and I’ll go scout ahead. I hope that soon I’ll be able to bring your daughter back to you.”
Sam was absolutely still; then, to Maggie’s shock, he swept her in his arms and kissed her, hard.
Once again she felt herself melting under his touch, her always-restless magpie utterly stilled.
When the kiss broke, Sam kept hold of her for a moment longer. “Bring yourself back safe too,” he said, staring at her.
No one had ever worried about her before.
“I’m going to try,” Maggie said.
MAGGIE
As soon asMaggie stepped out on the porch, the reality of what she was about to do hit her.
The wind was kicking up strongly, blowing snow off the trees and whirling snowflakes like the inside of a shaken snow globe. She had seen the storm forecast. It was going to get worse. Much worse.
Every wild animal with any sense had found a sheltered place to hole up and wait it out.
In all likelihood, Charlie was just as well off as any wild creature. Sam had said she turned into a mountain goat, which meant that these mountains were the native home of the wild members of her kind. Charlie might not have the experience of a wild mountain goat, but she had the instincts and the physical form. She was designed to handle cold temperatures. She would probably be fine.
But probably wasn’t good enough. Charlie was only fourteen. She might not think of shifting. Or she might wander into danger in the blizzard, over the edge of a cliff or into a hidden ravine.
Maggie stepped to the side, out of sight of the windows, and stripped swiftly, bundling her clothes on the seat of a porch swing. Hopefully Sam would think to bring them in.
As soon as the wind hit her bare skin, the heat was instantly leeched out of her. Even so, it took her a moment to find the conviction to shift.
She had tried so hard not to. She had struggled with such determination to keep control over her shift form.
Now she was about to find out how much control she really had.
She shifted. As feathers spread across her body, the cold was suddenly less severe. But it was not negligible. Birds could get hypothermia, too. They could be blown off course and slammed into trees by unpredictable winds.
This weather was more dangerous to her than to Charlie.
But Maggie was confident she could find her. And she needed to get to work, before the wind got worse and visibility grew so bad she could no longer see the ground.
She flapped into the air, tumbled a couple of times as she got the hang of navigating the wind, and soared upward.
Oh, it felt so good to fly again. Even half-blinded from the storm, with gusts of wind buffeting her wings, she luxuriated in the freedom and the joy of movement.
She had been trying so hard, even before coming to the lodge, to shift as little as possible. Her shift form had always been her joy and delight. But it also had frequently been out of control. Turning into a magpie felt like letting slip the bonds of her human body, setting herself free ... but that freedom had come at a steep price.
Her worst fear was that she would feel her human reason slip away, as it so often had when she shifted before. It wasn’t that she completely lost control to her magpie, but it had become hard to see any reason why she shouldn’t take this or that shiny thing, or slip into places she knew she ought not to be. It was like being drunk; she didn’t stop being herself, but her impulse control went into the basement.
