Page 104 of Tracking Snow

Yet, getting to experience Snow in the flesh is something I wouldn’t ever willingly trade, even if it meant keeping my secret.

"It’s..." she trails off, eyes still glued to the little trotters I hold, "awesome!" She shrieks with glee.

Cupping her hands around mine, she moves to get a closer look at the tiny pigs. She delicately drops a finger to try to pet the head of one. It snorts up at her and trots quickly away, but the second one she tries to stroke enjoys the attention thoroughly.

"They are so cute," she says, using a high-pitched baby voice. Then she proceeds to talk to them in that little baby voice, prodding them gently and squealing in delight when they let out tiny little snorts.

For a moment. I feel like someone has yanked the floor out from under me.

She continues to baby talk to the pigs, and I know. I know it just like I know the rest of us do.

I am inexorably, completely, totally beyond oblivion in love with her.

No, Seven growls.

Despite the hard push I feel from him, and the stiffening reaction of all the others, it doesn’t matter.

It’s too late. I’m so far gone, nothing Seven can do to me will ever change where my allegiance lies now.

"Can you, uh, get me a cup or something to put them in?" I ask.

Snow is off like a shot and returns in a flash with a sizable glass jar. She helps me gently guide them into it, tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she is careful not to hurt any of them.

Now in the kitchen, thankfully with my pants on, Snow seems to have forgotten all about breakfast as she practically presses her nose to the glass. "Oh my gosh, how many of them have you made?"

With a glance around, I find almost all the flutterbuns have made their exit, except for the white one I helped out of the cage last night. It’s still perched on the couch in the seam between cushions, loafed like a tiny bread roll, wings tucked. Its red eyes sleepily blink at us, but it doesn’t get up.

"Uh, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t get out much, but more than I’d like." I rub the nape of my neck. "It’s stupid."

Snow’s head snaps up. "No, it isn’t."

"Snow."

"Nope. I’m not accepting that." She points at me, then at the jar. "None of your powers are stupid."

Two makes a doubtful sound deep in my skull.

"Some are cooler than others," she concedes, holding up a finger. "Fine. Sure. Super speed and walking through walls are hard to compete with. But do you have any idea how many people get saddled with completely useless magic?"

I blink. "What?"

"I once met a mage who could only make people’s left shoelaces untie. Not the right. Only the left. Another guy could make soup cold, but only if it was already room temperature. A woman at the bar can make her own hair grow one inch, but only when she’s crying. And I heard about a dude who could summon spoons."

"Spoons?"

"Not clean ones." Her expression sobers. "So, honestly? Tiny pigs are amazing."

I stare at her, unable to decide if she’s mocking me.

She softens, her gaze dropping to the jar. "I mean it. They’re alive. They’re cute. They trust you. That’s not useless." She looks back up at me. "This is one of the best powers I’ve ever seen in my life."

My throat tightens.

No one says anything inside me.

Not even Two.

Snow clears her throat like she’s suddenly embarrassed by her own sincerity. "Anyway. What do the sneeze babies eat?"