Oriane smiled at Sam, who tentatively smiled back, and sat down. “Thank you for the dinner,” she said to Wendy, enunciating carefully, though her accent was still strong. “It is very fine.”
“You’re welcome,” Wendy said with her bright smile. “Do you like waffles? We have several possible fixings, beginning with real maple syrup, and three kinds of jam…”
It turned out that waffles were a common street food in France, though not with maple syrup. Oriane tasted a little, and pronounced it excellent.
Breakfast went much easier than Alejo had dared to hope. Oriane depended on him to act as ready dictionary, which he was happy to do. He noted that Oriane repeated words to herself. Sam was also listening closely—his class at school had Spanish for half an hour a day. His vocabulary was pretty small, but he brightened when he heard a word he knew. Alejo remembered that feeling from his own childhood, the discovery that language actually worked.
When breakfast was done, Alejo said to Sam, “I’m going to be teaching Oriane about flying, and stealthing. Do you want to come watch? You could help us by telling us if you see her or not.”
Sam grinned as if he’d been offered the world. “Oh, yes!”
* * *
The rest of the day went far better than Alejo had begun the morning expecting. The day was cloudy, with a brisk wind, making the waves choppy, so that even the most indefatigable surfers were not inclined to be out there. That left the beach free for lessons and experiments.
Oriane had already figured out how to use her wings. Sort of. At first, she flew low to the ground. She found landings the most difficult. Alejo demonstrated how to glide, paddling her long, clawed toes before touching down. When that worked, she dared a flight over the water—banked—faltered—fell with a splash. She shifted back to human form, wet, miserable, and glum, but Alejo said, “Try staying in your shift form. At least I dry out faster when I stay in mine.”
His heart squeezed when she obediently shifted back, shook all over, then pranced up onto the beach. She was listening to him—learning. From him. He was a parent.
“Okay, let’s try stealthing.”
She dipped her chin in a nod, and he explained, still in Spanish, the inner mechanism for mythic shifter stealthing.
Her face screwed up as she concentrated, but she got it very quickly. Then they played a game, with Oriane stealthing then running to various points about the beach as Sam tried to find her. When he finally figured out to watch for footprints in the sand, Alejo suggested that she try stealthing while in flight. “Let’s keep it simple at first. Just get some height, stealth, then glide down…”
A little after noon, Wendy appeared, carrying her picnic basket. Sam began hopping around, his heavy glasses bouncing on his nose. Oriane shifted back, now merely damp. As Wendy greeted them, and began spreading the picnic blanket—with four small hands’ worth of willing help—Alejo tested the wordsmy family. It felt new and strange, but not a bad strange. It was as if a bolt he hadn’t been aware of had slid into a socket, causing all the clicks and turns of a lock firmly setting itself right.
“I made several kinds of sandwiches, Oriane,” Wendy said. “Not being sure what you like and don’t like. Don’t be afraid you’ll hurt my feelings if there’s something you don’t care for. I promise, everything here will get eaten by somebody!”
Oriane had been eyeing a peanut butter sandwich doubtfully, until Sam grabbed it.
“Bon,” she said, and took a ham and cheese.
As the hungry kids wolfed down their food, Wendy sat next to Alejo. MATE,his serpent boomed with satisfaction. His lion purred,FAMILY.
When everyone was stuffed at last, he smiled at Wendy. “That was excellent. Thank you. Want to stay and watch some flying?” he asked, hugging her up against him.
“Sure!”
Oriane was eager to fly again. She self-consciously smiled at Wendy, then shifted, daintily trotted down the beach, lion claws kicking up sand behind her. She extended her wings, and with awhump!she took off.
Wendy clapped, successfully interpreting a thirteen-year-old’s desire to show off. Alejo cupped his hands. “Try to fly in a circle now! Remember to use the wind, don’t fight it!”
When he saw Oriane struggling, he shifted and took off, zooming into the air to demonstrate. Oriane banked, her great, sparkling eyes following him as she tried to mimic his wing patterns. They flew low over the sand, and when Alejo sensed she had the idea, he led her out over the water.
She continued to copy him, and this time she made a successful circle—then of course had to strike out on her own.
Alejo headed back in, delighting in Sam’s open-mouthed wonder. He was about to land when a tickle at the extreme edge of his awareness caused him to snap his wings once, twice, gaining altitude: something was out there. Something with senses like his, doing a long, slow sweep.
“Stealth,” he called Oriane, forcing his voice to cheerfulness.
Oriane instantly stealthed, and Sam clapped his hands. “I can’t see you!”
He dropped to the sand in a dive, shifting mid-air, so that his feet landed as if coming off a step. He was about to shout to Oriane, but she’d seen his landing, and—typical teen—of course she had to try that trick.
She glided in over the sand, and then shifted in the air. Her arms flailed, unsuccessfully keeping her up, and she stumbled and fell with a splat in the sand.
But she bounced up again as Wendy called, “You were magnificent!”
