Mother had raised her to be strong and wild. Father had raised her to be strong and kind.

Breach ended up somewhere in the middle.

She was a personality as much in flux as her body itself—changing by the day and molded by the very world around her. As such, she found she enjoyed trying on different skins, different personalities. She enjoyed being coy one day and sharp-tongued the next. Enjoyed being soft and sweet or ruthless. There was no resting point for her. Nowhere for her to settle into a personality and let it grow around her.

Instead, she took flight with the slightest shift in the breeze. She shifted to match those around her, even letting herself change mid-conversation if it so suited her. And the truth of her? The pieces that did not shift, did not change? Those she kept tucked away close, placing them near and dear to her heart.

Today, for now at least, she feels weightless.

She wakes and moves from the rest of her family. For a second, she contemplates taking the shape of a small cub—she is, naturally, partial to the form of big cats—but she feels like seeing the world from higher. So instead she shifts into the form of a falcon. She stretches her wings wide and takes flight.

The world is a miraculous thing from this angle and she wishes that she could share it with her mother. Wishes that she could let Sochi see just how small everything is when you’re taking flight on the nearest breeze. But her mother would never want to leave the forest floor, she knows, and the thought doesn’t last for long. Instead, she angles her body on a downdraft and then tucks her wings in close.

She feels something like joy swell in her chest as she dives to the ground and, with a grace that belies her young age, she shifts. She takes several running steps to catch her balance as hooves strike the ground and her laugh escapes her finally, echoing slightly as she comes to a sliding stop and shakes her head, her thin, coltish legs prancing beneath her. Delighted, she turns her dual-colored eyes to the area around her.

She could only wonder at what adventures she would find today.

I want to swim until we both begin to feel the weightlessness sink in

She had not expected to find another one this close—certainly not one that looked like him. Her heart slams into her throat in surprise and then thrums with delight as she tries to take all of him in. He is unlike anything that she has ever seen before. He is brilliantly colored and only half-horse in many ways that capture her attention immediately. So she doesn’t mind when she realizes that he is so close to her or that he doesn’t ask to touch her. She snorts a little in surprise at the question and startles back immediately.

“Both,” she chirps as she shifts back into avian form, but this time choosing a small blackbird. Her small cry barely breaks the silence as she flaps around his head, reaching down to playfully peck at the spikes that come along his neck. Not above showing off for the dragon boy made of stars and gold, she shifts again, this time landing on the ground as a young brown bear, rising onto her back paws.

She swipes playfully with her massive paws, an impish smile on her lips.

“Or maybe I’m this actually.”

She rolls onto her back and then rolls up as a young tiger, mimicking her mother’s form. This one feels right in a way that some of the other animals don’t, and she purrs a little as she stretches.

It’s then that she looks at him in the eye.

Then that she freezes, feeling a chill run up her spine as she finds herself in the reflection. Sees a million different futures play out with him in all of them—him, always him. Her heart stutters again and she finds that she can’t hold onto the shift. On a stumbling breath, she shifts back into her normal form, her pale neck slick with sweat and the exhaustion of multiple shifts making her limbs lead.

But nothing that distracts from what she had seen.

For a second, there’s nothing but the sound of her heavy breaths before she finally shatters the silence:

“What are you?”

I want to swim until we both begin to feel the weightlessness sink in

She breaks the spell of his gaze, feeling herself shaken in the aftermath of it, to focus on the rest of him. His answer surprises her, enough that the playfulness bleeds from her and leaves instead a worry that settles into her bone and a confusion that she can’t shake. “Why would you want to leave?” The question escapes her before she can possibly think to stop it—not that she would. Of all of the things that her parents have taught her, she has never quite soaked in the lesson of politeness.

(And it wasn’t a lesson that Sochi truly put any effort behind.)

He is more timid than she would have initially thought the dragon boy would have been, and there’s a strange sensation in her belly at the idea of it. Why would he be so shy? Why would he not glory in the power of his claws and the gleam of his scales? She has never considered what it would feel like to not feel like you fit into your own body—even when she wore so many different forms, they all felt right.

“I can’t though.” She is blunt but not entirely uncaring, angling her fine head so that her dual-colored eyes can consider him more. “I can barely change myself some days.” She isn’t embarrassed to admit it, nor does she try to hide the toll that the shifts had taken on her earlier—her neck still slick with sweat and her breath not quite steady. “I still don’t understand though. Why you would want to fly away.”

It sticks in the back of her brain and she takes another step toward him, her coltish legs dancing a little as she settles in close. She wants to know—wants to understand better. Wants to understand him.

Wants to know the future she saw in his eyes.

Was it them?

Was it true?

I want to swim until we both begin to feel the weightlessness sink in

She is not a dull girl, but his pain is so far removed from her reality, that it feels like an impossibility. She only knows the freedom of the wild and the joy in the shifting. She knows the law of the wild world that her mother has drilled into her—the power there is in living a life by your own rules, of your own accord. It is an impossible thing to feel trapped, to be unable to leave, to be stuck somewhere you hate.

Still, she tries. She tries desperately to discern what he is saying and to understand his pain. She stares into it like one might stare into the sun, but all she feels is blinded in the aftermath. She blinks and blinks again, trying to find her vision again, but the haze of his pain remains. It sticks in her throat.

“I don’t think you could ever be unimportant,” she finally replies, grabbing on one of the words that had stuck like burrs in her. “Why wouldn’t you want to be loved?” This in response to the later part of his speech. Breach shakes her delicate head, dual-colored eyes closing as she feels the beginning of a headache forming, the confusion settling like lead in her veins—leaving her feeling heavy.

She bites down, catches her cheek between her teeth, tries to use the small dose of pain to focus, but it doesn’t help her clarify what he’s telling her. Concern finally touches her expression as she begins to work through what he’s telling her—at least catching some of the meaning if the rest doesn’t take root.

“Are you a monster?”

Her head angles to the side a little, ears perking.

“My mother always told me that people might call me a monster, but that’s only because they are afraid.”

A pause, head dropping a little.

“I am not afraid of you, Yadigar.”

I want to swim until we both begin to feel the weightlessness sink in

He is different than anything, anyone, she has ever met before. Different than she had ever imagined someone could possibly be. Her eyes narrow slightly at his response and she scoffs, making a noise deep in the back of her throat. “I can’t imagine you’d do something so horrendous.” She rolls her shoulder, every inch the daughter of Sochi in this moment. “And if you did, I am sure it would be warranted. The strong survive. It’s the way of the world. You shouldn’t feel guilty for it.”

Her mother had trained her so well on that:

Never feel guilty.

He continues though and she feels that hint of anger. The brush of it against the edges of her mind. It doesn’t cause a similar emotion to swell in her, although she knows how to bite into the flesh of her rage. “My name is Breach, and you shouldn’t mourn me.” She tips her chin up slightly, as if in defiance. “I am not scared of death. When I finally do greet it, I hope to do so with my dignity in tact. Not afraid.”

She takes a deep breath, trying to center herself again, bringing her focus back to him. Her dual-colored eyes wash over him. Everything that makes him so different, so unique. She ignores the tightening in her chest, tries to forget the future that she had seen swirling in his eye. “I’m only a little stupid.” The mood lightens a little as her smile stretches across her face. “Not nearly as stupid as you though.”

She closes the space between them a little, bumping her nose against his cheek.

“I don’t think I mind it either.”

I want to swim until we both begin to feel the weightlessness sink in