On Two Feet
falling!”
Pyrros looked down and discovered what had happened.
“Hold on.” He said and dove straight down.
Moira only just had time to get a firm grip on the spike she sat behind, and something stirred in her stomach. She had never experienced discomfort when flying on her own, but when she was not in control, it was dizzying.
Pyrros descended, his wings close to his body. Moira curled tighter against him, her eyes watering, tears running along the sides of her face—but she forced her eyes open so she could see Nerida below.
She stared at the white shimmer that surrounded her.
Pyrros extended his claw and closed it around Nerida.
When he unfolded his wings, he stopped their rapid descent, catching the air with a sharp snap like a sail in the wind.
Moira’s heartbeat pulsated in her ears. What had just happened?
“Maybe we should land for a while, hm?” asked Pyrros. “I need a little recovery after that, not that it was a difficult thing per se, but, you get it—and Nerida—she might not appreciate waking up mid-air, hanging in my claw.”
Moira nodded around the lump in her throat, but realized Pyrros could not see her. “Yes, that’s—we—yes, land.”
He changed the angle of his wings, and they descended once more. It was not the vertical plunge of a minute ago, but neither was it the calm and barely noticeable decline of the previous day.
Pyrros found a glade large enough for him to fit in and landed on the lush grass. While Moira slid off the side and landed on trembling legs, Pyrros carefully placed Nerida on the ground. Moira was about to rush to her, but stopped, her feet frozen.
“What…” Moira looked uncertainly at Pyrros.
It was Nerida, lying still in the grass in front of Moira. It was Nerida’s blonde hair and Nerida’s pale skin, and she was wearing the same shirt she had been wearing since she came to the beach to help Moira, but…
“Doesn’t she usually have fins?” Pyrros tilted his head, noticing the same thing Moira had. “Looks like it’s not just me who missed something?”
Moira shook her head, unable to say anything.
Nerida had legs. Like Moira, she had two pale legs with two feet and ten toes with little nails on each, and Moira understood nothing.
“Best check that she’s still alive.” Pyrros poked her gently with the rounded side of his claw. Nerida moaned and started moving. “Apparently she is.”
Moira took a cautious step forward, afraid to touch Nerida.
Nerida blinked, moaned again, opened her eyes, and squinted at the sunlight. She saw Pyrros and sat up with wide eyes, her mouth open, almost ready to scream.
Moira realized that from Nerida’s place on the ground, with Pyrros leaning over her, it must’ve looked like he was going to eat her.
Moira’s heart skipped a beat. She hoped she had not misjudged him.
“Take it easy.” Pyrros backed away. “You fell off my back. So, I had to catch you, and we thought you’d prefer waking up on the ground. Then we saw your legs, so maybe you’d like to explain that. It might’ve been good to mention, you know. It’s a little—well, we’re just surprised.”
Nerida looked at Pyrros like he had lost it, though she still seemed focused on Pyrros’ gleaming teeth. Moira stepped forward.
“Nerida, why didn’t you tell us you can switch to legs?”
If they had known, it would have simplified things.
Nerida tore her gaze from Pyrros and stared at Moira as if she was speaking in a foreign language. “What are you talking about?”
Moira looked meaningfully at the two pale knees Nerida had subconsciously pulled up.
Nerida followed her gaze.
Silence fell.
Somewhere a bird chirped, and the gentle summer breeze rustled the leaves. Strangely, the noises felt loud and echoing.
Nerida crawled backward, her eyes as big as saucers and her breaths fluttering rapidly.
“What did you do?” she screamed, “What did you—what—what did you do?”
“We did nothing,” Moira frowned. “You fell off Pyrros, and when we came down here, you had legs. We didn’t do anything.”
Nerida laughed an ugly laugh. “You didn’t—no, no—why would you… You taunt me—legs! That’s new.”
Unused to having legs, she stumbled as she pulled back further. Sometimes she got it right, but mostly she floundered, her legs a hindrance.
“You didn’t know.” The insight hit Moira hard.
She swallowed and stepped forward, kneeling in the grass next to Nerida. Fingers closed around Nerida’s wrist in a firm grip. Nerida stopped crawling backward, but her entire body shook like a leaf in the wind.
“We did nothing to you,” Moira said again. “You just—have legs.”
Nerida stared at her, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “We can’t go ashore; you took that from us.”
Moira shook her head, forced herself to keep her tone soft. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it isn’t true. You have legs.”
Still trembling under Moira’s grasp, Nerida sat silently for several seconds before hesitantly touching her new legs with her fingers. Instantly, she pulled her hand away as if the skin on her legs burned her.
“A pleasant surprise,” said Pyrros. “Now you aren’t stuck in whatever body of water we find or on my back all the time. You can walk around the forest on your own—or, well, perhaps not on your own. Never know what’s out there. Not everyone’s like me and skips the meat.”
Moira gave him a scolding look. He must’ve spent too long on his own in the woods because he did not understand the fine art of being quiet in such sensitive situations.
“Ignore him,” Moira told Nerida.
“I have legs,” said Nerida, as if she had heard neither of them.
Moira smiled faintly. “You do.”
Nerida swallowed hard. “Am I—am I human now?”
She looked up at Moira and then at Pyrros.
Moira frowned. “You can’t be, not just like that, can you?”
But she knew nothing about the water people on land—and neither did Nerida. Would she have legs forever now? Or would her fins return?
Nerida gazed down at her legs again. Her brows creased as she concentrated on lifting her right leg. When she succeeded, she stared at it in amazement and touched her foot. Then she put her foot back in the grass, as though handling the finest porcelain, and repeated the exercise with her other leg. Moira let go of Nerida and leaned back. The grass in the shady glade was pleasantly soft after their unexpected adventure of plummeting towards the ground.
Once Nerida explored the concept of moving her legs, she sat up in a squat.
Moira stood up next to Nerida and held out her hand. “I believe you can stand up, but it might be easier if you have a little help the first time.”
Nerida nodded and took Moira’s hand. Trembling like a newly hatched chick, Nerida tried to balance on her new feet. Upright, she was almost a head taller than Moira, and looking up at her was strange. She looked like a shaky one-year-old and reminded Moira of her youngest brother, Mael, when he was learning to walk. The same pride was visible in Nerida’s expression.
Pyrros had had enough of being quiet. “What a talent—up and running within ten minutes on her new legs. I can guarantee that humans don’t achieve the same so quickly.”
Nerida still didn’t seem to listen, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes she leaned most of her weight on Moira, but every step she took became steadier.
Moira frowned. “I wonder what made it happen now.”
After a few minutes of hesitant steps, Nerida grasped the general idea, and her balance improved, so she leaned less towards Moira, until Nerida let her go.
She stared down at her legs and back up at Moira. “I—I can walk.”
Moira grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, you can.”