The mood at the mesa springs out to us with cheer. Rapion dive and blast skyward into the night. Celebrations ring from the Common as Ratho and I top the last crest. Beyond the spring, the party whirls around a firepit. Spastic shadows race across the towering stone wall. Boys celebrate with dance and tumble over one another.
“Come on!” shouts Ratho. He and Thae swoop into the tumult that actually accepts them. Only because thick mash is being ladled from the urn by the Eating Cavern. Frequently served at gatherings for the new year, I’ve often seen how the sweet mixture intoxicates with one bowl. These boys look as if they’ve swallowed more than that already.
“Strange one,” a handsome youth named Shiz slurs at me. His dark-lashed eyes are only open halfway. “Bring your rapion, that Singer, and have a bowl to celebrate. We survived the storm! With your return,” he burps, “we’ve lost none.” He stumbles away before I answer.
Mirko lands on my shoulder and grips tightly. “This isn’t for me,” I whisper. I feel the danger of someone in the flurry seeing back to my former sex.
One boy races past me and another chases after him. They collide and crash to the sand, rolling and smacking each other in jest.
I skirt the area. There’s not one govern out here. Why the generosity with mash after the storm? Is it a reward? Well, I prefer a hot steam to a thudding head in the morning.
Across the crowd, Ratho lifts a bowl to me. I shrug and turn to our sleeping entrance.
Flecket, a brown-haired boy with twists to his waist, stumbles against me. Mirko shoots above, wings flapping. “Pardon me, ma’am,” the boy giggles. I clutch my pack tightly to my chest. “Would you dance with me?” the boy asks and shuffles his feet. Mirko drives him back until he bumps into Dalen, who recently joined our division. “How about you. Do you want to dance?”
“Certainly,” he replies in a high, giddy voice.
Inside the cavern, I flee through the passages toward my bunk. I toss my gear onto my shelf, grab my change of clothes, and rush after Mirko to the pockets.
I call out before the farthest, and when none answers we duck under the skin flaps. Mirko chortles in anticipation of the steam.
Within the total blackness, I sit on the ledge by the small pool. I’m too afraid to remove my clothes. It’s exactly as I feared: Intoxicated, the boy could see my former sex. Would you dance with me? Ma’am?
Mirko chitters as if all is well. He brushes my trousers by flinging open his wings. The air stirs the coals in the corner, and they brighten.
“He sensed the femininity leaking past my amulet,” I whisper. A slight, twisted thrill rises in me before panic annihilates it. This thing must work fully! The Madronians’ threat is very real. If I ever remove my amulet, even if my remaining femininity is only a whisper, they would kill me as a firstborn female.
With the tongs, I drop the hot rocks into the water and hold my face over the steam, trying to sweat away these crazy-headed thoughts. Doubly unforgiveable would be to lure a male to me when I’m declared. Both lives would be forfeited — yearly, my Madronian teachers made that clear in my private sessions.
Mirko’s eyes catch the light of the coals before steam separates us.
“It was only the mash,” I say aloud to believe it. “He was just acting the fool.”
I carefully remove each layer of clothing. My gritty toes grip the warm stone as I run my hands down my chest. Small breasts bulge under my palms. I have — little breasts. My waist curves in above the new hair growing at the fork of my legs. Boys have hair there as well, though, don’t they?
My amulet swings against my thigh. Is it stopping my body at all from changing, like Father hoped but doubted? Why? Why can’t it? A shiver tremors my chill into the steam.
One arm covering my chest, I squat and let the steam weave around me.
Mirko sings as though we have no concern. He picks at my twists in the darkness, and my body streams sweat.
After a restless sleep on my shelf, in the morning I kneel beyond the Common. Little drops of water balance on each pale green, oval leaf, making the glino plant sparkle. I hold the slim branch and run my fingers downward. The leaves are stripped into my palm. This should be enough. I pat them dry.
Mirko spirals down to my feet, and we walk back to the mesa. His head now reaches my knees, and if I am not in a hurry his gait matches mine when he chooses to walk. He rides my shoulder less and less.
The horizon lightens and tinges the spring water pink. Mirko chitters along with the splashing sounds filling the empty area. Soon the morning drum will sound, and the Madronians will have their retribution against the patrollers’ headaches and nausea, all that will be left over from the party.
I duck into the Sleeping Cavern and bump into Shiz, the boy who called me to join the party. “Excuse me,” I mumble.
“Shhhh.” He squeezes his full lips together. His rapion, Baesa, drapes her girth across his shoulders.
“Sorry,” I say, and go to step around him but get caught staring instead. His green eyes, still not fully open, are framed by brown twists that skim his shoulders. His smile snags my centerself and flips it. Definitely the most handsome boy I’ve ever seen.
Mirko pecks my hand. “Oh,” I recover. “Um, glino leaves might settle your stomach, and silence your head.” I open my trembling hand.
“Thank you,” he says, and plucks a few from my moist palm.
I clamp my fist closed again. “Just suck on the leaves until you feel better.” He nods, slips two into his mouth, and one into his rapion’s. Did Baesa swallow mash also? She lowers her lids at Mirko, who flaps and takes a strutting step.
Shiz glances at him and steps back. “Good tidings for your day,” he says as he finally heads out of the entrance.
“Returned to you.” The sun outlines him until he turns out of my sight.
Mirko leans outside to watch his rapion even longer.
“You are shameless!” I roll my eyes and tug him toward our alcove. “Don’t you think Baesa’s wide in the hips?” I whisper. He grins up at me and winks. I huff. “So when did my rapion begin to notice others?” He chitters back as if to say: And when did you?
I knock my calf against his side and step to our bunk. “Ratho, wake and take some leaves.” He doesn’t respond. “Ratho.”
Mirko warbles a song that resembles a dirge. Ratho and Thae open their eyes and groan.
“Ugh, Tiadone. Save me.” He reaches out.
“Just take a few leaves.” I drop two into his palm and plop flustered onto my shelf. Shiz? Now I am attracted to Shiz as well? You’d think it was rutting season or something.
Boys stumble through the hall moaning and groaning. I gather my gear. If everyone had just gone to sleep, as I did, and not swallowed mash all night, they wouldn’t complain so now. Like Shiz. I pause and envision him in the sunlight.
Mirko jumps onto our bunk. He waggles his tail.
“Oh, stop!” I hiss.
“What?” asks Ratho.
“Never mind.” I shove my kidskin into my pack harder than necessary.