PHI DREAMED MORE IN Defiance than she ever had before in her life.

She’d never slept well growing up, and now she tended not to remember dreams, except as slippery, quick images that darted through her waking mind just once, only to disappear as soon as she opened her eyes. But in Defiance, under the care of the Tully, she lost herself each night so deeply that when she woke, she was almost sad to see herself returned to reality.

She dreamed, each night, of flying.

“You’re healing well,” said the Tully one morning, just as Phi was opening her eyes. “Soon we’ll be able to deliver you to your friends.”

“WAKE UP!” Lukas called from the foot of the bed, as he had every morning. Phi groaned, not wanting the dream to shake off just yet. She’d been flying alongside Carin, over a vast forest. Ahead, the river twisted and turned like a curled blue ribbon.

“Let her be, just a bit longer, little lizard,” said the Tully to her son. “She’s dreaming of wings.”

On her perch by Phi’s bed, Carin squawked, as if in agreement. Phi stared at the Tully. How had she known?

“You’re among like folk here,” said the Tully in response to Phi’s silence. “There’s not a woman in Defiance who hasn’t once wished she were something besides herself.”

“How can you tell that about me?” asked Phi. She’d told no one about her secret: her desperation to become a bird. At times, she thought that Bailey had guessed, and Gwen as well. Tori, she knew, had read her journal. But they were her friends. In front of the Tully and Lukas, near strangers, she felt exposed.

“How could I not?” said the Tully. “Little thing like you, so uncomfortable in your own skin.”

Phi clenched the blankets in her hands. The Tully shuffled from one end of the tent to the other, carrying a pitcher of fresh water.

Lukas tilted his head at her. “But you can help, can’t you, Mam?”

“Help?” Phi asked. “Help how?”

“Make you into your kin!” Lukas said.

“I cannot,” said the Tully as she gave her son the side-eye. “The boy misunderstands.”

“I didn’t misunderstand anything!” Lukas argued. “There was the one time when you turned that woman in—”

“Enough, Lukas,” the Tully said firmly. Phi had never heard the woman call him by his given name. “Why don’t we finish up our morning chores and let her rest?”

“I am rested. I’ve been resting,” said Phi. “Please tell me.”

The Tully pinched her wrinkled lips together and breathed in through her nose. After what seemed to Phi to be a very long, tense moment, the Tully shook her head and opened the flap of the tent. She motioned her head for Lukas to follow. He stole a quick glance at Phi and hopped off the bed.

“See you later….” he said. Phi only nodded, her thoughts filled with what it could all mean.

The women of Defiance had insisted Phi rest, and rest, and then rest some more. She tried to help with collecting firewood or foraging for vegetables, but she’d been sent back to bed several times. In truth, she had only wanted to keep her hands busy to quiet her mind. She didn’t dare ask about the woman Lukas spoke of, the one whom the Tully helped—but she thought about her constantly.

By sunset she’d regained her strength, and found Lukas inspecting rocks on the outer skirts of the camp. When she arrived, he’d proudly showed her rocks of brilliant colors that he took with him from place to place, since it was true that Definance was a town that moved often. Phi inspected the rocks, judging them for herself to be truly beautiful. But there was an ulterior motive even she couldn’t deny.

“What you said earlier,” Phi started. “What did you mean? About your mam helping a woman?”

He turned back to his rocks, his back stiffening. “Mam said not to say.”

Phi lowered herself to sit on the soil, suddenly hit with a dizzy spell. She knew she wouldn’t press it. She’d worked herself up with myth and magic, and whatever she’d imagined was probably impossible. But even if Lukas wasn’t supposed to talk, he was eager to.

He spun around with a striped rock of deep red and white in his little hand. “I found this one the day the woman came,” he said in nearly a whisper. Phi leaned forward as he continued. “We were near the edge of the kingdom, near the Underlands. She was tired, I remember that—but lots of people who join us are tired.”

Phi nodded.

“But she was special, I guess. She wanted to change into her kin. I was there! Mam said she could help her, and called it ‘a forsaking,’” he said. “But she told the woman that she’d have to say good-bye to what was dearest to her.”

Phi considered this—she thought she knew what it meant. She, the Phi that lived in this body, had a family and friends. Would she be able to communicate with them, if she became an animal? Or would she forget them? But something kept pulling her on—the wish she’d felt inside of her, for her entire life.

“And could your mam help this woman?” she asked.

Lukas nodded, his floppy hair falling in front of his eyes. “I helped her.”

Phi pulled her knees to her chest and went very still. “What happened?”

“We collected herbs all morning, and Mam pulled out her giant book and followed a recipe. I wasn’t there for that part. I only know the next day the woman was gone, but there were huge paw tracks from her tent….”

Phi felt as though even a breath could make what she’d just heard untrue. “Do you remember the herbs?” she asked.

Lukas looked away; she couldn’t see his face. “You want to try it for yourself,” he said.

“If I don’t try it, I’ll always wonder…” Phi said, trailing off. “I’ve lived my whole life thinking I don’t belong—that if I never get to experience what my kin feels, I’ll die. Of longing or sadness.”

She stopped herself, feeling silly for pouring her heart out like that in front of a child.

“I can’t help—I can’t get in trouble with Mam,” he said.

“I’d never want that,” Phi said, and she meant it.

Lukas started back up toward the tents, looking out at the darkness of the desert. He paused, and without turning he called back to her: “But I can tell you Mam keeps the book at the foot of her sleeping mat….”