Abby extended herself over the rock's edge and there, below her, just outside the mouth of the cave, stood two figures, black as pitch. Her heart raced. They weren't cats so much as they were cat-like creatures with bodies as thick as Laos' outer walls and claws the length of her fingers.

"No," she whispered. "That can't be—"

Margo laughed. "It can, it is, and," she patted Abby on the back and got to her feet. "What's more, I think they were hiding in that cave, and that cave is made out of stone, so technically—"

Abby eyed the woman confused.

"So technically," Margo said, eyes sparkling, "I found them under a rock!" She jumped into the air, beaming.

Abby shook her head and noticed two pairs of gold-slitted eyes staring up at her. Their heads were more animal than human, with pointed ears on the tops of their fur-covered skulls, muzzles protruding, wet, black noses glistening in the light. The tips of fangs slipped out between thin, black lips, white and dripping with spit.

Lucy and Sebbi? Those creatures were her Lucy and Sebbi? How? How was it possible? And what if Margo was wrong? Maybe they were strangers and their teeth and claws were meant to be as dangerous and as threatening as they seemed.

Paying no mind to Abby, Margo dove off the rock and landed gracefully between the two creatures. She smiled up at Abby as she poked both creatures' sides. The one on her left hissed, revealing more of his razor-sharp teeth.

Abby shuddered. They were downright menacing.

"See?" Margo said, cupping her mouth so her words would carry. "Real as can be. Both cats, more handsome than most Aelurians - I'll give em that- but still just as ugly as moldy cheese."

The creature to Margo's right placed a large fur-covered hand over his chest. "Ugly? Why I've never been called that a day in my life," he said. His voice was strange, deep and yet sweet, like dark honey.

Margo looked sternly at this creature. "Really, Mister Lucy?" her eyebrows raised in suspicion. "Maybe before, when you were nothing but a bundle of arm fur and sweet purrs, but look at you now! You're all sharp edges." She grimaced as she looked the cat creature up and down. "Fur's nice enough I suppose, but those whiskers, such cat whiskers."

The cat-man on Margo's left, the one who by process of elimination would be Sebbi, extended a clawed hand toward Margo and tugged on her hair. "Shouldn't cats have cat whiskers?" he growled.

Margo swatted him away and pouting, rubbed the back of her head. "Yes," she said. "And that's the real travesty of it all. You're cats. Ick."

She stuck out her tongue and made a gagging gesture, placing both her hands on her stomach for emphasis. Neither cat-man found her as funny as she herself had, though Margo didn't seem to mind.

Abby, on the other hand, would have chuckled, had her words as well as her ivory slippers not have been frozen to the spot. Margo had called that thing Lucy. The large creature on her left, with a streak of white cutting across his face like a tailored pant stripe, that creature  was her Lucy? The one who feigned hurt? Whose voice was thick and syrupy and a bit over-dramatic?

If that was the case, then that meant Sebbi was- the slightly smaller creature, with slimmer shoulders, and all black fur? Could that really be him? He looked so angry, though without any eyebrows it was hard to tell.

Margo pointed up at Abby. "Be a dear and help her down from there." She nudged Sebbi in his side.

He scowled. "Why me? Didn't you use one of your tricks to get her up there?"

Margo crossed her arms. "Magick," she said, sternly. "I used magick. Not tricks. Not like those silly potions and tonics in Exul. Real magick. And," she prodded Sebbi as though he were cattle she needed to herd. "Real magick has real costs."

With a surprising amount of force, Margo pushed Sebbi forward. He floundered on his tree-trunk thick legs, like a baby learning to walk. His tail thumped the ground behind him, kicking up puffs of white sand.

"Help her," Margo said.

Abby looked down at Sebbi. At the cat-man before her with his scowling face and annoyed gold eyes. He reached out his arms, as large as she was almost, and nodded toward her.

"Start climbing down," he said, much softer than the words he'd spat at Margo. "I'll grab you once you're close enough." His voice was deep and low, like the rumble of a thunderclap.

Though she was hesitant to climb down such a massive, sharp rock, something about Sebbi's words reassured her. She wouldn't fall. If she slipped, he would catch her. Hopefully. At least, she hoped he was better with his new arms than he was with his legs.

She nodded and placed one foot over the edge, searching for a groove or nook in the rock to act as a foothold. She found one, and then another. She twisted her body so the smooth rock caressed her cheek as she slid down.

Halfway down the rock, she felt warmth curl itself around her waist. And then, she was mid-air, the rock in front of her, nothing below her. She turned her head slightly. There was Sebbi, his face a foot from her own. At this distance, she could make out the pinks of his ears, count each of his long, white whiskers, make out a tiny crescent-shaped scar that sat between his eyes. The flesh there was pink and opalescent, and she thought, how fitting. Sebbi was a walking night sky and here he was housing the moon between his eyes.

As soon as he noticed her noticing him, he turned his head. His fur brushed against her as he lowered her toward the ground, slowly, cautiously, as if Abby might break if he weren't careful enough. She breathed in his scent, one of wet leaves and musky ground. Before Abby knew it, she was back on the ground and the warmth Sebbi's touch had left on her skin had started to cool.

"Thank you," Abby said, mindlessly rocking back and forth on her heels. She fidgeted with the muddied hem of her dress. She'd never talked to one of her cats before. Nervous goldenflies fluttered in her stomach. Would she say the wrong things? And what if they didn't like her to begin with? A deep flush flared across her face. Oh, gods, she thought. They'd seen me change. Get out of the bath. They'd seen me sleep. I drool in my sleep!

What do I do?

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Sebbi asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Broken away from her thoughts, Abby looked up at him, really up at him, surprise written across her red face. "No - no!" she blurted out, a bit too enthusiastically. She cleared her throat and clasped her hands in front of her. "No, of course not," she said, a little less frantic.

Sebbi swung an arm up behind his head, extended his claws, and began scratching, almost as if he were just as nervous talking to Abby as she was talking to him. And he had all the claws and teeth and as Margo had said, "the sharp edges."

"I'm not used to being this big. I didn't crush you or squeeze you too hard?"

Abby shook her head. "No. It was a very pleasant hug." Saying the word 'hug' made Abby's blush return though she didn't really understand why. For a second, as her cheeks grew hot, she felt as though Sebbi had glanced at her, but his eyes were back, focused on the ground before she could make certain.

"You're much smaller than I thought," he said. "Tiny, frail, squishy. Like a little beetle."

Abby chuckled. "I hope I'm not like a beetle, you always squash them."

Sebbi turned toward her, his eyes finally locking onto her own. The directness of his gaze made Abby shudder. "Not a beetle then," he said. "Just different."

Abby smiled. "Different's not so bad."

"Love," the other cat man, Lucy, butted in," Love, you've been on the ground for all this time and haven't said a single word to me."

He pushed past his brother, and stood in front of Abby, a tower of fur and shining fang. His chest was puffed out and he seemed twice as large as he had looked from overhead.

"I'm sorry," Abby said. He too, had a crescent-shaped scar between his eyes though the white of his face made it harder to see.

Lucy shook his head. "Don't be sorry, love. This is the first time we've been able to talk and understand each other. We should be celebrating, jumping up and down like we used too."

Abby laughed. "We jumped on my bed," she said. "Not on a cliff. And you were smaller then. I imagine if you tried to jump on a bed now, you'd break it in half."

A deep chuckle came from Abby's right. Sebbi, her Sebbi, had laughed.

"She called you fat," he said.

Lucy's face fell immediately. "Love?" he whimpered.

Abby shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that." She shot Sebbi a glare despite her nerves. "You're huge, not wide, just tall, and broad."

Lucy regained his smile at the words tall and broad. They, to him, were very appropriate and pleasing words.

He leaned over Abby, his whiskers brushing her forehead. "And handsome too," he said, turning his gaze on Margo, "despite what that mouse woman says. Right?"

Abby snorted and nodded her head. "Yes, you're handsome." She glanced at Sebbi who stood transfixed as he extended and retracted his claws. "And Sebbi," she added hurriedly.

This made Lucy frown. Sebbi froze, his head down, his claws mid-way between out and in. His tail swept fervently back and forth.

Had she said something wrong?

Abby clasped her hands tighter. "You're both handsome," she said, hoping for the frowns and frozen faces to pass. They did, and both cat brothers seemed to relax.

Lucy took her hands in his. His fur was soft, like velvet, and shiny as though a thousand brushes had spent a thousand days being pulled through it. "I'm so glad to be able to talk to you, you have no idea."

Margo had mentioned something earlier before they'd stepped through the blue rip from her world to theirs. She'd said the cats could talk so had they been talking to her the entire time? Had they given answers to questions she asked or gave advice? Had they chided her for sneaking biscuits before bed or hitting Crum in the crotch?

Abby gulped. Had they said anything when she'd cried? When she'd thought about her mother who wasn't there and about how Poppy had said it was her fault?

Abby didn't want to know if they had. Somehow, her private moments in the bath felt less personal than the days she had cried.

Abby smiled. "I'm glad I finally get to listen," she said.

Lucy nodded. "You have no idea how boring it gets talking to him," he threw a quick glance at Sebbi. "He's always so gruff and irritable."

Sebbi shot Lucy a glare. Lucy smiled. "Though he does have his adorable side," he whispered into Abby's ear.

She was shocked. Sebbi? Adorable. Excitedly, she asked, "How so?"

Lucy's grin grew wider. "He's incredibly shy."

Shy? Sebbi was shy?

Abby looked at him. Yes, she could see it. He barely held her gaze and he'd been so cautious when he'd held her. Had he been shy then?

She giggled. "He is shy," she whispered back.

"My hearing's just as good now as it was before," Sebbi hissed, "I am not shy."

Even though he bared all his teeth, even though his face was scrunched and veiled in fur, even though she could feel his anger radiating over him, Abby couldn't help but laugh harder. Her Sebbi, her beloved mangy Sebbi, was shy and downright adorable.

Lucy took a step toward his brother and patted him on the shoulder. "You have another twig jutting out from your ass. It seems you're meant to be a tree."

Sebbi growled and swatted his brother's hand off him. He turned and there, clear enough, a small black twig was stuck in his fur.

Lucy chuckled, his lighthearted laughter canceling out his brother's rage. Sebbi slunk back into the darkness and though Abby couldn't see him, she could hear him mumbling under his breath, hear something being plucked free and snapping.

"He always had twigs and leaves on him like that," Lucy said, looking over Abby and plucking a leaf from her hair. He smiled. "I always thought he was trying to mimic one of Seiver's crowmen and it looks as though you're trying to do the same." He flicked the leaf onto the ground and proceeded to pull three more leaves and a thorny vine from Abby's unruly mane of hair.

Abby laughed as Lucy worked on her hair, thoughts of Ms. Sevier, hard at work in her tiny patch garden, sweat pooling in the deep wrinkles of her face, coming to mind. The old woman had had the rosiest cheeks Abby had ever seen to begin with, but when she worked outside under the sizzling summer sun, her cheeks bloomed with a red as rich as her prize-winning tomatoes.

To keep the gulls and gizzards from her plants, the old woman had erected tiny men of cloth, stuffed fat with twigs and leaves and straw. She'd tied twine around their ends to keep them together, but poor Ms. Seiver had only given the birds a plentiful source of nesting materials. Her crowmen had all but been picked clean by the time autumn rolled around every year. Six of her crowmen had stood guard over her herbs this year, stuffed to the brim. But eventually, they would be plucked and torn until only scraps would remain. And then, come next spring, there would be no more crowmen because there was no more Ms. Seiver.

Abby's laughter stopped.

No more, she thought. No more.

The silence now was deafening. It wasn't warm like the moment Abby had shared with Margo while they watched the ocean. This one was cold and Abby could feel the weight of it spreading across her shoulders and pressing her down, down, until she felt as though she might become buried.

Margo was the one to break the silence, and if she had felt its weight, she sure hadn't acted like it. "We really must be going," she said, matter-of-factly. "The Wanesguard could show up at any moment."

Finally, Abby had a chance to ask one of her many questions, and to press that uncomfortable silence further from her. "What exactly is a Wanesguard?"

Margo looked at her as though she couldn't believe Abby had asked her what a Wanesguard was. As if Abby had asked her what air was, or what cheese was.

"Soldiers," Margo said. One word.

"Soldiers," Abby mouthed. Soldiers. "With real armor and swords and all the sharp edges?"

Margo looked grim and nodded. "Not just that, but they have magick, bad magick."

Bad magick.

A lump formed in Abby's throat. She'd said bad magick had been at playback at the house. Was it the same bad magick that these soldiers used?

"So you understand why we must hurry?" Margo asked.

Abby nodded. She wanted to get as far away as she could from any sort of bad magick.

"Good," Margo said. "Then—"

The mouse-woman froze. Something like metal scraping against metal sounded in the distance. The clanking of armor perhaps. They all turned toward the forest.

Branches snapped as the weight of something, or someone, unseen trampled over them. Leaves rustled as the same something or someone was forcing them aside. Abby's heart leaped into her throat. Was that the Wanesguard? The soldiers with the bad magick? She tensed, sweat forming on her brow.

Margo turned toward them and raised a finger to her lips.

Don't say a word, don't make a sound.

Fear gripped Abby's insides and clenched, like a snake constricting around its prey. She felt the air leave her lungs. Without making a noise, both Sebbi and Lucy placed themselves in front of her. Lucy flashed her a smile while Sebbi remained alert, his gaze never leaving the treeline.

Margo pulled out a piece of evergreen cloth from her pocket. With a deep breath, her eyes grew, her color brightening. The fabric in her hands began to stretch. Longer and wider with each second until it split in half. Then, the two halves began to take shape, tattered edges becoming hems, the part where it had ripped began to curve, until, Abby saw, Margo held no cloth in her hands but two hooded cloaks. Sweating profusely now, Margo returned to normal. Her color dulled, her golden shimmer returned though, Abby noted, her cheeks looked a little more sallow than before. She threw the cloaks at the cat brothers.

"Put those on," she dared to whisper. "Hoods low over your eyes. If the Wanesguard see those marks," she pointed a finger at the moon shaped scars, "they'll arrest you for treason."

Confusion flashed in the cat-man's eyes.

"Do it," Margo growled. The footsteps of the Wanesguard were unmistakable now. Closer. "Or die."

She moved toward Abby and hooked the girl's arm in her own. Standing on her tip toes to whisper into her ear, into her ear, "Stay with me and don't say anything."

Abby nodded and chanced a glance at the mouse-woman next to her. Her eyes were bulging with worry, her fingers tapping against her thighs.

Not good, Abby thought. And as the thought entered her head, she caught her very first glimpse of a Wanesguard. 

Abbernathy Fun Fact 2: While Lucy's full name was and still is Lucien, originally, Abby's nickname for him was Lulu. And Sebbi was spelled with an 'e.' Scandalous, I know.