“I thought you said it was a hill,” Florian groaned, all but jogging to keep pace with his father, who had started up the dirt path without waiting for them.
“Hill, mountain,” Jerah said, waving his hand. “Not much of a difference here, is there?”
“I think there's a difference,” he protested.
“It's like a big hill. A small mountain,” Jerah said, and pointed to one of the peaks in the distance. As he said, it was not an especiallytallmountain, but it was a far cry from what Florian considered a hill. “Near the top of that. Not the very top, of course. I promise it's not a difficult hike.” With a laugh, he gestured at himself. “After all, do I look like an athlete? Especially compared to Kade. I'm not nearly as young or fit anymore, but it shouldn't take more than an hour to get there, I think.”
Florian cast a dubious glance at him, but Jerahwason the scrawny side for his height: the same as Florian. And it did look like there was a path up the mountain, or hill, or whatever it was. Hiking wasn't exactly his favorite activity, but it seemed he had no other choice, so there was no point in complaining. With a deep breath he adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and followed his father resolutely, Kade’s heavy footsteps crunching behind him.
True to his word, the way up the hill wasn't too difficult. It made a winding, gentle path upward with only a handful of steep sections. They passed a few other people as they walked, but Jerah seemed completely unbothered by their presence.
It was about the middle of the day now, and although the sun made Florian sweat with every step, the cool breeze that moved through the hills was pleasant. There was a beautiful view if nothing else: he could see the verdant island slope this way and that, and at some angles he could still see the ocean sparkling blue in the midday sun.
As they were nearing the top of the hill, Jerah paused at the corner of a switchback, glancing surreptitiously up and down the path.
“I don't see anyone,” Kade offered, also looking around. Jerah nodded before leading them off the path and into the brush. Florian frowned, but Kade moved to follow him, so begrudgingly he picked his way through the foliage. The slope became steeper as they moved off the path, and the dense underbrush meant it was much slower, harder going. Still he managed to keep Jerah in his sights until finally they emerged in a tiny clearing.
Florian wasn't sure what he had expected, but he had expectedsomething—but the clearing was totally empty. Yet Jerah stood with his hands on his hips, looking carefully through the empty air.
“Is this it?” Florian asked uncertainly. Next to him, Kade nodded, but his eyes were also on Jerah.
“Ah, here we are,” the older man said, seeming to find what he was looking for. He moved his hand toward nothing, then there was a slight shimmer in the air. Florian was unsure of how to track it with his eyes, but it seemed as though Jerah’s fingers were pulling back an invisible curtain—his hands disappearing in its folds, and a soft light emitting from the nothingness.
“What the fuck?” he heard himself mutter. Kade chuckled once next to him.
“Now, listen, Florian,” Jerah said, and the sudden seriousness in his tone swept away his thoughts of Kade’s laughter. “When we pass through, we're going to look a little different on the other side. Magic and all that. So don't be alarmed.”
“How different?” he replied suspiciously, and this time Jerah tittered at him.
“A little more other-wordly, you might say. But still recognizably us. Don't worry,” he said. “Kade, why don't you go first? Then Florian, and then I'll be right behind you.”
Kade glanced over at him, and he nodded. Florian hadn't been nervous before, but now whatever was happening was real—so much more real than it had been even a moment ago. Some small part of him still thought that maybe this was all fake, even on the boat and during the hike; but now he had seen Jerah make some kind of light appear where there had been nothing before, and that small part of him was silenced.
Kade hesitated. His eyes lingered on Florian for a moment, as if he could see the apprehension on his face; but then his gaze slid away, nodding at Jerah and obediently stepping toward the light. He glanced back at Florian once more, then as smoothly as if he had walked around a corner, he was gone.
“Go on,” Jerah said, his voice soft. “I promise it's not frightening. You don't feel a thing. You’ll just walk along like normal.”
Florian swallowed hard, nodding tersely, and with some effort he forced his feet to move, stepping toward the glimmering light that descended from Jerah's outstretched, half-hidden hand. The light filled his vision, and he took another step—and suddenly it was much darker, as if clouds had filled the sky, blocking out all but a few tiny rays of the sun's light.
He blinked hard a few times, his vision adjusting to the sudden change, but already he could hear harsh footsteps and Jerah's voice behind him.
“See? Nothing to it,” he was saying, then stopped short. Florian glanced back at him, realizing with a start hedidlook different—his eyes were gleaming a bright amber despite the dim light, and his features were recognizable yet somehow more angular. Then his face twisted in concern.
“Oh. Florian, now—don't panic, but you, ah, also look different, perhaps not in the way you had hoped…”
As soon as he said it, Florian couldfeelthe difference in his body, the shift of weight—without thinking his hands flew up, one to his face, the other to his chest. The scratchiness of his slight stubble, meager as it was, was entirely gone, and his chest—
“Oh, fuck no,” he heard himself whimpering, his whole body hunching over instinctually in fear, trying in vain to press his chest flatter against his ribs. “This isn't—this can't be happening, I—”
“Florian, listen to me,” Jerah said again, and something about his tone as he spoke was utterlycommanding. Florian's head snapped up to look back up at him, despite the hot, embarrassed tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “You need to stay calm. You're a Changeling. You've done this before. Close your eyes and focus on what you look like. You can do it.”
“How?” he asked, his voice breaking. Jerah shook his head, his lips tightening into a thin line.
“I don't know,” he said. “But I know you can do it. I've seen you do it. Close your eyes and focus.”
Florian squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to think of anything but the soft fleshy swell under his hands—focusing on the summers he'd spent saving money, the scars he so carefully kept out of the sun, the slick scent of his shaving cream, and the glide of the razor down his face.Thatwas his body, not this.
And somehow, like stretching a muscle, he felt the flesh under his hands shift and morph until his fingers were pressed flush against his ribs. He could feel the muscles of his face shifting too, far more subtle: filling out his jaw, thinning near his eyes, and his scalp prickling with the tiny shift of his hairline. The bones of his hips narrowed, and his shoulders pushed themselves apart with a sharp burst of discomfort. It felt somehow entirely alien, yet came to him almost without thought. He could not say how he did it, only that hedid; and when he nervously opened his eyes again, Jerah was grinning down at him.
