“Have you lost your bird group, dear?”

“A bird group?” I didn’t understand her.

“A group of herbalist interns?” repeated a nice looking, middle aged woman. “You look a little bit lost.”

I shared my way with beige dressed women; they were laughing and gossiping about somebody who was not, obviously, in their small company. The women were haling heavy wicker baskets on their backs like traveler’s backpacks. They were returning from work in fields. Some of them were followed by their kids while eating sweet smell buns and blue fruits. The children were very proud, having brought snacks for the parents, and accompanied them on their way back to the village.

I was walking with no fear in my heart in wonderland fields, as if I had done it million times before. I was not afraid of losing my way: the village and the Hare castle were as if resting on the palm of my hand. After my light power emergency, I was much better though hungrier. One of the children, who was highly interested in my ripped jeans was gently touching its ruffles on my knee. I brushed his soft tuft of hair, and he generously gave me one of the blue fruits he was carrying in a small basket. I was munching a fruit, wishing it could last forever: the idyllic stroll, and tender weather, and peasant’s melodic voices.

“I haven’t been here for a while,” I confessed to the women, “and not sure which road to the castle is the shortest.”

“Join me when we reach the edge of the village, and I’ll show you the way. I think you're going my way, aren't you? “smiled the youngest of them with funny turned-up nose. “I have to bring hypericum and salvia stems for Mage Kaleb. He personally asked me to help him,” she said and her pale freckled cheeks blushed. I saw some tenderly wrapped yellow and sage colour flowers in her hands in addition to a huge bag. “Have you already seen him? Isn’t he handsome?” she and some girls of her age giggled and then whispered to each other under the severe look of older matrons.

I can’t even! Do they know he can turn into a rat? They will lose the desire if they could see his noble handsome ass darting from the balcony.

“Why are you going to the castle? Do you have any relatives who work there? I thought herbalist interns live in Birdhouse chambers near the cursed well, Mage... ouh, sorry, I have not asked your name,” she spoke to me like I was her high school mate, nothing like Selina or Robin. Mages differ, supposedly.

“I’m...” I almost told her my real name, for I want that little woman to behave naturally as if we were just two girls having a small talk.

“Mage Avis! Mage AVIS!” I heard the wailing of a siren, but not the sound a human boy could produce.

I covered my face with a long sigh:

Dammit, boy! Why do you hate me so much?

“Mage Avis, Mage Avis,” echoed women in disbelief, looking at each other.

The girl I spoke to was dazed by new information about me. She opened and closed her mouth but remained wordless. I hated myself for not telling who I am.

“I’d better go to the castle with Robin,” I broke the silence.“Thank you for your help!” I slightly nodded to the confused peasants. “Maybe you can show me more places here lately?” I asked the girl.

The last question was not supposed to be answered, for I turned and strode to the castle along with Robin.

“I’m really sorry!” I heard a meek voice of the freckled girl; her tone didn’t remind her real energetic voice.

Wow, congrats! You know how to make friends!

***

“Are marigold and blondie in the castle? And don’t make this face! You know who I mean. And where the hell have you been?

“I was looking for you,” he said, but it seemed pretty thin.

“Are you scared of ghosts?” I asked more friendly. “So then you ran away from me and hid somewhere. Right?”

He looked at me as if I boxed his ears, “I am afraid of no ghosts, Mage Avis!”

I laughed far too hard.

***

I confronted Zarya and Kaleb in a spacious but relatively crammed music room. I was in a big armchair between an oddly looking piano and a golden harp. They were sitting on a couch in front of me, side by side like a husband and his wife in their first therapy session with a marriage counselor.

“I don’t need any precise details, exact dates, and names: tell me about her life, about Avis till the moment she disappeared from here. In brief.”

“I don’t know where to start,” said Kal, looking at Zarya.

I wished I had a notebook like real psychologists to make smart notes.

“Just start. You have ten minutes,” I sniffed, and to give an air of importance, I looked at my wrist, but remembered I had left the watch at home.

“Avis,” started Zarya, but I interrupted her: “Don’t call me Avis, at least today. I want to save my real name a little bit longer before I dive deeper into this craziness.”

They looked at each other again and nodded, avoiding eye contact with me.

The story of my life was short as I wanted, and unbelievable as I didn’t want to or expect. They were good at synopsis: never interposing each other, working as one mechanism. One knew exactly were to add information or assume a role of a storyteller. As for me, I neither asked them any questions nor interrupt, sitting motionlessly with my elbow on the arm rest and my chin in the hand.

“I have only one request of you today,” I said when they completed the story.

“What kind of request?” blondie asked suspiciously.

“Before we say goodnight, I want you to turn into a rat.”

I tipped back in the armchair, biting my index finger knuckle with a disgusting smirk.

What the hell am I doing? That’s not even me!

We reversed our roles: it was their turn at that moment to feel uneasiness, and I literally was soaking up that atmosphere of embarrassment.

Kaleb was reluctant, and he looked again at Zarya. She shrugged her shoulders nervously as if saying: “Fine, do what you want” and turned to the window. Her face was gloomy.

I could not understand their behaviour: at first, they wanted to tell me everything, then they had no eagerness to show me the way magic works as if his transformation was something shameful or personal.

I didn’t ask him for a private dance, did I? What’s wrong with them?! He was constantly idling around in a rat form, and now he behaves as a virgin lady from a historical romance.

I regretted having asked blondie to shift, but it was too late to call it off; I’ve already signed the contract with this reality and didn’t want to slow down. And if it means to get on their nerves, I would surely do it.