The Shape of Travel

[Cassian Thander]

Maybe it wasn't Sedric after all.

The thought flickered through his mind, persistent like a thorn in his side. Cass tilted his head, dark feathers glinting in the faintest of firelight that reached them up here. He watched the small monkey scan the shadows between the trees, each second stretching thin and quiet. The more he looked, the more doubt crept in, a growing thing settling in his chest like a heavy weight.

Wind whispered through the branches. The distant crackle of the caravan fires drifted from far, far below, carrying laughter, music and clinking of mugs. Distant, but still easy enough to pick up with his keen avian ears. Still, here in the canopy the noise felt unreal, a whole world away.

The monkey moved again. A casual and brief fluid motion, until it found a strong branch to settle on. And in a breath, that small frame swelled, reshaping back into something human.

Cass half expected it. And still was startled anyway. Little wings flared, carrying him higher to another branch – one that left space between them, instinct driving him to keep the bigger creature below and out of reach. Old habits, the kind that had kept him alive, didn't fade easily.

"Though I have met many of your sort in my time. I'm sorry to say I do not recall having met you before. As your display of feathers. Is one, I'm unfamiliar with." Sedric's calm voice followed, measured as always.

He... didn't know it was him?

Cass blinked, small head jerking into a tilt. Surely he'd seen him vanish. Surely, he knew.

Then came the glow. Sedric's palm, open and steady, lit as if from an invisible, pure flame.

"If you wish to speak to me more easily, I can grant you a temporary mental link between us."

Every instinct screamed no. He had enough trouble keeping his secrets around people. Having one inside his head, where the torrents of his mind turned his soul inside out every second of the day? He didn't even want to think about it.

His gaze snapped aside, contemplating. He could just fly. Just pretend to be nothing but an ordinary bird and vanish into the dark. And stay that way within the caravan for the rest of the trip. The man would never know.

But when would he ever meet another shapeshifter again? When would he get to ask his countless questions, shushed by his mother in favor of something evermore pressing? His chest tightened with the ache of it. Of wanting. Of possibility.

He regarded the offered palm again. That, he decided quickly, was a moot offer. Since he could just shift back. Cass steadied himself on the branch, tiny talons digging in as he focused. On the shape of a man in his mind. On dense bones, thick skin and enormous frame. On the weight a hundred times his.

Nothing.

The world stayed too big, and he stayed a small, light bird.

Frustration burst out of him in sharp chirps. He hopped from branch to branch, stabbing at the bark with his beak, a useless vent for helpless emotion.

It never worked when he needed it to. Never.

He tried again to speak, to say his own name in hopes of recognition, but the sounds stumbled in his throat. What he managed were several imitations of a crow's caws, his voice tripping over the hissing "s" that followed in his name.

His gaze once more found Sedric's hand. His mind raced, right to an impulsive decision.

Cass leapt off his branch in sudden motion, blur of wings carrying him to perch on the man's thumb, talons prickling gently against skin. The warmth of it spread up his spindly legs, strange yet steady.

Cass chirped once, eyes darting from the palm to Sedric's face and back.