Making a thick bed of grass between two rocks, I lay down.

The day before yesterday, once the sun rose, I crossed the Lazy River by the hillocks shuddering beneath my steps. Dawn was the perfect time for crossing back to Crealia—the morning mist still hid the jumper from sight, but there was already enough light to make out the nearest hillocks.

After a couple of leaps, I stopped, balancing on the tiny patch of ground. Gulping the air with my dried lips, I listened to discern if I was hearing my own pounding heart or the guards' horses shifting their hooves on the other bank.

It was just my heart. A huge relief.

Several more leaps.

Another stop.

The gray outline of rocks breaking through the mist. Almost there.

Straining my ears, I listened to the whispering wind in the willows—it could be hiding the horses' neighs or the guards' hushed voices.

No. The way was clear.

Two more leaps over the sinking hillocks, and, finally, I could feel the solid, hard ground.

Freezing, I listened anxiously one last time before ducking behind the rocks.

My last night out in the mountains.

By noon tomorrow, I will reach the spot where I parted from my parents; I will meet them, and we'll arrive home all together by evening.

Twenty-nine days. Twenty-nine nuts.

I still have the last four. I will eat one in the morning and bring the rest home. I'd rather not waste any of these rare edibles that Father collected specially for me on my quest.

Now I see the value of everything my parents taught me.

Father. Our play and mock combats. A wooden sword. A dagger. A sling. Hunting. Disguising. Carcass dressing.

Mother. Herbs, roots, and leaves. Needlework. Debriding and dressing wounds.

I've made it. I've completed my Passage.

I want nothing more than to hug them. See silent approval in Father's eyes. Feel Mother's fingers run through my hair.

Pressing the cool grass down with my cheek and smiling at these memories, I close my eyes.

Get up!

A thundering voice in my head yanks me awake.

I spring to my feet, dagger in hand, my other hand grasping my chest.

No Whistle!

Taking a breath, I take in my surroundings using all I have— sight, hearing, smell, and touch.

Exhaling, I already have the image of this reality in my mind: the chirping sounds of grasshoppers piercing the enveloping silence like thin needles; the dead moon sucking warmth from the rocks; the breeze beneath my clothes, fanning my skin, and pouring anxiety into my lungs.

That's all.

So why is my heart racing? Was it just a bad dream scaring me, but instantly forgotten?

But where's the Whistle?

Turning around, I see Angel's giant figure towering right behind the bank I'm standing on. The silhouette is hidden in the shade; I guess, rather than see, that it's him.

He takes a step towards me, crunching on the stone dust. Bending down to me, he slowly lifts the hand holding his whip, its strap wound around the handle. He pounds his chest with the handle. That's me. Then pokes the round end at my chest. You.

The world goes dark, but a strange force yanks me out of this darkness.

Now I have the whip, the trumpet dangling from my neck. Feeling a strange weight on my back, I move my shoulder blades, trying to understand what is pulling me from behind. I meet sudden resistance as though trying to wave my arms underwater. The ground slips from beneath my feet; for a moment, I hang in the air.

I have wings!

Looking down, I see my body clad in a long robe, the ground far, far below as if I'd climbed a high tree.

The dirty-faced boy in front of me doesn't even reach my belly.

Is that… me?

So small?

The boy stares at me blankly, his eyes glassy.

I lift his shoulders with my free hand, and with the hand holding the whip, I scoop under his knees. It feels like lifting a kitten—his body is so tiny, almost weightless.

Carefully, I put him in the grass nest he's made for sleep. He doesn't stir. That's unsurprising. If I am in Angel's body, it means mine is empty.

I get used to this new body quickly. A few flaps of the wings and I can fly; the whip's handle is steady in my palm, feeling like an extension of my arm.

I glance down at my own tiny body.

Why am I going through this? To get to know my Weapon better? But why in the dead of night? And why is fear still clutching at my throat?

Something terrible must be happening. And I must find out what it is. That's why I'm in Angel's body.

But how do I do it?

I look around, listening.

My whip. My wings. My trumpet. My robe…

Stop.

The trumpet!

In its normal state, my Whistle looks like an angel playing his trumpet.

Should I…?

Taking my trumpet with big, dark fingers and lifting it to my mouth, I touch it to my lips.

A flap of wings takes me off the ground.

Another flap moves the rocky pass down, far below my feet.

And the next flap makes the world disappear.

I am surrounded by endless void. No top, no bottom, just the cold darkness all around, stretching infinitely, torturing my senses…

The whip!

I crack it, a clap of thunder splitting the loathsome void and bringing reality back.

But it's a different reality.

An animal smell hits my nose. Opening my eyes, I see the shaggy heads of Budrahs galloping ahead.

The path I've known for my whole life is lit by torches, their light yanking red dog bodies out of the dark.

My agonizing fear gives place to the calm confidence of the man in charge of a death squad dashing through the night forest to home, the fragments of his train of thought racing through my brain.

***

Erderak kept glancing up in annoyance. He could already make out the tops of pine trees against the brightening sky, despite the dancing torch flames ahead. If we put the torches out, the sky will be even brighter. Dawn is breaking. We must hurry to do it while it is still dark.

Aspers were best to deal with while still in bed. Not when they were scattered over a large area, using their animated objects to attack you.

What have they animated this time? An iron? A stool? Any other implacable pain in our ass?

Tracking the Aspers down was becoming more and more complicated. On the bright side, there were much fewer of them. A year had passed since Erderak had completed his last raid to the distant North Peak. That god-forsaken hole was only inhabited by half-savage cave dwellers, their whole bodies covered with thick ash-gray hair. But what an adept wizard their Shaman had been! Erderak had lost half of his men and almost all animated things. However, it was then that he'd chosen the Ice Hawk.

Erderak used to believe that the North Peak raid had been his last one. That it had crushed all remaining resistance, bending the most stubborn animators to the Magister's will. That the Ice Hawk was his final trophy now that Crealia was cleansed of Asper filth and could enjoy an age of peace.

A year had passed since then. The longest break Erderak had since joining the guard.

But about a month ago, the clasp of the Magister's cloak woke again.

Right during the Council.

Hearing a soft click, the whole chamber lapsed into silence.

The Magister's silk cape was still falling to the floor when a blackbird took off from the ruler's chest, darting silently across the ceiling of the Hall of Wisdom…

…to land on the Altar holding the wooden map of Crealia. Tilting its head and flashing the anthracite bead of its eye, the raven pushed off from the Altar's edge and sank its claws into the map.

Everyone in the Hall froze, not daring to breathe. No sound but the dripping of wax from the candles, and the bird's claws scratching on the wood.

The raven walked across the map—from Ironsea to the Milk Plains, pausing for a moment after each step, leg lifted—until it pecked at the village of Lerk.

The Magister looked up at Erderak, who nodded back and immediately left the Hall.

Erderak was about sixty years old. For forty years, he'd been a chastener in the Magister's service, seizing hundreds, if not thousands, of magic Weapons from the rebels. A caterpillar bracelet. A porcupine comb. A python collar. They would animate literally anything.

The very air of Crealia was sparkling with magic. Small wonder that some locals could harness it.

Fifty years ago, the Magister had issued a decree prohibiting commoners from practicing magic. It had been met with widespread discontent and uprising; the Crealians would not give up on their favorite trade easily.

But the Magister gave them two options and enough time to make a decision.

The first option was to turn in their magic Weapons to the Magisterium within a year. Many did that to avoid the ruler's wrath.

The alternative was to join the Guard, pledging allegiance to the Magister. Those who did so were allowed to keep their Weapons.

Erderak was one of them. He'd been eighteen back then, his Weapon was a spider, and his choice was not exactly free. Instead, it had been influenced by the stunning attack of Silver Salamander at his encounter with a death squad.

The pipe in the officer's palm had suddenly jumped down to the ground, transforming into a smoking beast whose heavy tail swept Erderak and Spider off their feet.

He had been knocked to the ground, unable to stand. His stunned eyes had gazed at the squad's officer—a young man, maybe two years older than Erderak, a mocking expression in his eyes.

He had picked up Erderak's Spider—an earring intricately made of wire—and mounted. Riding away, he waved the earring over his head, holding it with two fingers, and shouted, "If you want it back, come join the ranks!"

The next morning, pale Erderak—who'd been vomiting half the night from a concussion—had stood at the entrance of the Magisterium's Recruitment Department.

…And then there were those who wouldn't use either option.

Believers in Asp.

Fewer of them remained with every passing year.

"We're almost there, Sir Erderak." The voice of Gelles catching up jolted Erderak forty years ahead, to the present.

Gelles was one of the three animators, and only humans, in the squad that included six Budrahs and twelve red dogs.

"I know," Erderak replied softly and shouted at the Budrahs. "Torches out! Cut the pace!"

Soon the squad approached a small hunter's hut on a mountain slope.

"Surround," Erderak commanded, casting another displeased glance at the light-gray sky.

Four Budrahs and six dogs went around the house; others formed a semi-circle at the door. It did not seem to be locked, stirring a foreboding in Erderak's chest. Have they left?

Spider was silent in his ear. The officer glanced at Gelles, standing by his side, who responded by raising a corner of his lips understandingly.

Erderak pushed the door.

It was not locked.

The dogs ran in first. Erderak followed with the twin wizards, Aus and Berk, dogging his steps. Gelles remained outside to watch the door and take command of the Budrahs, who were too large to squeeze into the door.

No one in the house.

Approaching the low wooden bed, Erderak removed his glove to run his bare palm over the bedding.

It was warm.

He glanced over the scattered belongings. They've left recently. In great haste.

There was another bed, a smaller one. So they have a child.

Running his hand over the child's bed, Erderak felt no warmth. He raised his brows up in surprise.

The little one could be sleeping with the parents. Or…or something is wrong. But, anyway, they couldn't have gone far.

At Erderak's command, the dogs picked up the scent and trotted up the grassy slope, leaving the murmuring Lizard in the dark behind.

In less than an hour, the dogs led the group back to the river, somewhat upstream. At the water's edge, they lost the trail, darting about helplessly.

Erderak looked at the overhanging cliffs across the water. They couldn't have crossed the river here. And no point for the hunter to go downstream. He must've headed upstream to get the dogs off his trail. But they couldn't have gotten far up this river without a crocoboat, which is too small for two adults to fit in.

"There." Erderak pointed at the river's bend, spouting whitewater in the distance.

In some fifteen minutes, the dogs picked the scent again and, noses down, raced along the bank.

Before long, the group reached the bend. Coming up to the water, the dogs snarled at the opposite bank where the cliffs were separated by a crevice.

Erderak saw the runaways get out of the water and escape into the crevice. Jumping into the river, the dogs swam after them. The Budrahs followed, their large dark bodies cleaving the water like some strange boats. Erderak stopped, allowing the lagging wizards to catch up with him.

"Aus and Berk. Cross to the other bank. I will follow."

Nodding in synch, the twins drove their horses down to the water. The officer turned to Gelles. "Go back to the house."

"Why?" the wizard asked, apparently surprised.

"They went up the river as a pair. Without the little one. The child's bed was cold; he probably wasn't sleeping at home. They couldn't have been warned; we've intercepted the messenger. Looks like the hunter just sensed us. They left in a great hurry, unprepared. But where's the child?"

"I don't know." Gelles shrugged. "Why bother about the little one, anyway? We need the Weapon, and it's the hunter who has it. As the people of Lerk told us, he brought the item to be animated. No one mentioned the child. And we've questioned everyone."

The officer remembered storming into the illegal animator's house in Lerk a month ago, at dawn.

…Unlike the hunter, the animator had no time to escape, yet he had tried to warn his customer. Once the chasteners broke down the door, the wizard, who stood beside the dead stove, bent down, inhaling something from his palm. In a moment, he tossed his head, shaggy from sleep, a gurgling sound escaping his throat; then, he spat out a clot of thick mucus and slid down the wall, staring blankly.

Erderak's spider had jumped down, its metal legs clanging as it prepared to pounce.

Aus and Berk each flung two leather gloves to the floor. In a moment, four black, yellow-eyed leopards were there, clawing at the wooden planks.

The mucus on the floor bubbled, as though boiling, and suddenly shot a long thread into the dark stove. Gleaming in the torchlight, the thread shivered like a stretched string and pulled the boiling clot into the stove before the chasteners' animated companions could reach it.

"Messenger in the chimney!" Erderak had shouted to Gelles, who remained outside.

The wizard reacted instantly. Tossing back his cloak, he flung a string of beads down to the porch. Looking out of the door, Erderak had seen a bright flash of light illuminate the night sky, the light coming into the animator's hut through the windows behind his back.

Soon the outside was dark again. Erderak had heard something roll on the roof. Gelles stepped towards the house to catch Beads in the air, screaming, "Got it, sir!"

…Now, the corners of Erderak's lips turned up. He's a smart one. But too young. Unaware of many things that were common before his birth.

Turning to face Gelles, the officer asked, "Did you complete your Passage at the age of seven?"

"No, sir. But my father told me about this rite. Why do you ask?"

"I completed it," Erderak said, touching the Spider ring in his ear. "This hunter is an Asper. His wife, too, probably. Twenty years ago, girls used to complete the Passage, just as boys. So they've had their Weapons since childhood. No need for them to animate anything else. Do you understand?"

"Um…not really."

"The Peak of Spirits is a ten-day journey from here. Judging by the toys in their house, the Asper had a son. The Lerk spy told us the hunter had visited the animator a day before the Council when Raven gave us a Sign. So that's probably his son's Weapon that the hunter brought to Lerk. Then he sent his spawn to the Peak. If not for Raven, we'd have discovered this family's location much later, if ever. Now take two Budrahs and four dogs, return to the house, and set up a good Cerberus there."

"Yes, sir. They have a broom out there; it will fit perfectly. But why should I take any Budrahs?"

"In case the boy returns today. With his Weapon. You might not be able to defeat him with your Beads only." Erderak smirked.

"Yes, sir," Gelles said. Calling a few dogs and Budrahs to follow, he started down the bank.

Erderak looked back. Half of the group, including Aus and Berk, had already reached the middle of the river. Giving a whistle, the officer spurred his horse into the Lizard's shallow whitewater.