Tyr had wondered about the exact mix of feline and bird in her shift form, but hadn’t wanted to bring up any bad memories by discussing it. Now, in the gray dawn light, he beheld her in all her glory—and he knew why her hair was that fascinating silvery gold.
She was a snow leopard, sleek and glossy, her white-tan fur painted with large leopard rosettes. Her head was a regal bird’s head with a hooked beak, and the wings that folded smoothly along her back were gray and white, tapering to a sharp point. Tyr couldn’t identify the exact bird, but he could tell it was some kind of falcon.
She was glorious. She was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. She would be swift and lethal in flight, he could tell, and now he was nearly consumed with the urge to shift and go hunting with her, his griffin going wild inside his chest.
He took the steps two at a time, shifting as he went. Hisgriffin burst joyously out of him, and he hit the gravel drive on all four paws.
Tyr’s griffin shape was powerful, a tiger body with the sturdy head and blunt wings of a red-tailed hawk.
Cela lowered her head, swooping it gracefully from one side to the other as she studied him. Tyr instinctively copied her motions. It was a dance—a griffin’s mating dance.
He took a step toward her, and she slid gracefully away. The tip of her tail lashed. A rumbling purr started up in her chest. Tyr ruffled his wings, spreading them a little to mantle above his shoulders. Cela did likewise, showing off the lovely gray and white banding on her wings that echoed her leopard-spotted pale fur.
Both were too caught up now in their mating dance to think clearly. Tyr clattered his beak at her; she snapped hers with a crisp, sharp click. Their heads approached and darted away, then approached again, gliding past each other, nearly brushing. Operating on pure instinct, his griffin in control, Tyr turned his head to rub his beak along her shoulder.
It was like being slapped with a live wire in the face. He flung himself backwards, losing control of his shift form. The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back on the gravel, dazed, his head buzzing and nerve endings vibrating.
“Tyr!” Cela crouched above him. She was back in human form, her hair disheveled and tears streaking her face. She started to reach for him to help him sit up, then jerked her hands back and crouched miserably on the gravel as Tyr shakily sat up.
His mouth felt like he’d been punched in the jaw. Cautiously he fingered his lip to make sure it wasn’t bleeding. There was no damage he could feel; the pain was all internal, fading now as he recovered. His griffin had retreated to a huddled, miserable ball inside him.
“Guess it still works in griffin form,” he said, shakily trying to smile.
Cela sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Tyr’s urge to put his arms around her, to comfort her, nearly overwhelmed him. It felt terribly, desperately wrong to sit beside his weeping mate on the gravel, unable to touch or comfort her—especially when the reason for her distress was him.
“This is awful,” Cela sniffled, dabbing at her eyes. “I don’t know how we can live like this.”
Tyr pushed down his own feelings of misery. The important thing was comforting her, however he could manage that. “It was worth it to see you shifted. You’re gorgeous.”
Cela managed a watery smile. “Do you really think so?”
“Truly. You’re the most beautiful griffin I’ve ever seen.” It was true; even if it hadn’t been Cela, he had never seen that particular color combination before. “What are the wings?”
“Gyrfalcon,” Cela said. “They’re nearly white. And you’re—tiger and some kind of hawk?”
“Redtail,” Tyr agreed. His griffin was coming out of hiding, drawn by their mate’s distress and nearness. “If you feel good to fly, you should probably head out or it’ll be too light to be safe. But I’m glad we did this. Really. I’m telling the truth when I say it was worth it to see you shift.”
They both got up, brushing off the gravel. For a moment, Cela’s hand lingered near his, and the look in her eyes was like a kiss.
Then she shifted, and this time she spread her falcon’s wings to their full, glorious gray-and-white breadth. For a moment she gazed at him with the gold-green eyes that were wild, alien, and still indisputably her own. Then she spread her wings and gave a great downbeat. The grass on the lawn rippled and Tyr’s hair blew back. Cela launched herself into the air with a powerful effort of her muscular hindquarters.
Tyr’s griffin strained toward the sky, wanting to follow. Tyr himself was tempted, but he couldn’t fly away and leave the twins unattended. So he waved to Cela as she circled the house once, gliding with occasional wingbeats, her pale fur gleaming in the growing light. Tilting her wings as if to say goodbye, she streaked off for town.
Tyr gazed after her until the rising sun began to gild the grass around him. Then, reluctantly, he went inside.
He still hurt from the shock of the magic, but more than that, he ached to touch her. If he could have done it without hurting her, he thought, he would have endured a shock like that every day just to feel her soft skin against his.
Cela is right. How can we live like this?
But the alternative was to live without her—and it was unthinkable.
CELA
Spring beganto warm into summer and the lawn burst out in flowers. Cela, who had known only the rocks, mosses, and meadow flowers of her home island, watched the greening and blossoming of this lush, verdant land in wonder. It was so different, and everything about it charmed her.
Her morning flights had grown earlier as the mornings lightened perceptibly, so now she flew into Autumn Grove about an hour before her opening shift and spent the time wandering the quiet streets of the town or sitting in the park with a book until it was time to go to work.
Tyr occupied nearly every waking thought that was not consumed with her children or the immediate demands of her job. Those rare, brief moments when she had felt his skin against her own lived in her heart and tormented her with the promise of more. She lay in her cold, lonely bed at night and fantasized about Tyr upstairs, wondering if he also thought of her. When she shifted, her keen senses could smell his desire, so she knew that he did.
