A Latent Dark by Martin Kee Page B

antlers sprouting from its long russet head. She got to her feet and took a tentative step. It stared at her with a huge brown eye framed by long lashes. She could see its outline from between the young trees and took it for some sort or deer, or maybe an elk.
    Skyla reached out a hand and touched its muzzle.
    The world changed. She was no longer looking at the woods. Shadows became living things that stared at her, as surprised to see her as she was in seeing them. They peered at her from behind the liquid trees, wonder on their faces. Tree trunks twisted. Leaves turned black.
    The deer was covered in bright lavender scales, so thin they could have been short feathers. From beneath its scales the creature’s skin pulsed with pink, neon energy. Its huge eyes were no longer brown but bright electric blue.
    It backed up and suddenly bolted away, taking the world she had just glimpsed with it as it hurled down the path. She was left standing there. The world seemed plain and boring again.
    Orrin croaked in her ear. “Follow.”
    *
    By late afternoon, the sky had become a monochrome watercolor and wind had begun to whip the tops of the trees. The forest thinned as the trail became wider and eventually Skyla found herself in a vast meadow with a clear view of the valley. A wide arc of sparkling silver, the Lassimir River, was still days away.
    Her feet felt swollen inside her mud-caked, dirty school shoes, the soles cracked. Skyla sat on an axe-marked tree stump and looked out across the landscape. A slender column of white smoke stood out from the treetops. She could reach it in an hour. 
    “I’m going to go to see who lives in that cabin,” she said to Orrin.
    “No,” he said in that eerily human voice. She had been expecting a squawk.
    “No?” she said. “I can’t exactly live off berries for another day. I won’t have the strength to make it to the river. I’m going. You can eat whatever you want and I will meet you after I am done begging for food.”
    “ Daaaanger .”
    “I don’t care,” she snapped. “I am in more danger from starvation—or thirst—than what’s in that cabin.”
    “Skyla,” he said.
    “They would have killed you at the school, do you know that?” she hissed. “And I saved you from those boys throwing stones. I did. ” She poked herself in the chest with her finger. “So I’m making the rules from now on and I’m hungry.”
    Orrin launched from her backpack with enough force that it almost shoved her off the stump. He disappeared into the trees.
    “Fine!” she yelled after him. “Go! Go choke on a nut!”
    She only felt the slightest concern that he might never come back.
    Her nose was the only thing telling her she was going the right direction. The smell became stronger, as did the growling noises from her stomach. By the time she reached the tiny crossroads, the wind had picked up and small raindrops began to peck at her face.
    A modest but sturdy-looking wood cabin sat on a stone foundation. A crooked iron chimney crept up the outside of one wall, matched by ivy on the opposite corner of the building. A woodshed with halved and quartered logs stood to the side of the cabin. A nearby stump held an axe by its blade.
    She was about to explore the other side of the building when a sudden rustling noise made her jump. Orrin landed a few yards away from her. He presented a gift. It was a lizard, still wriggling in his beak. Orrin hopped toward her and dropped it on the ground.
    “Food,” he croaked.
    “I’m not eating that,” she said with revulsion. “It’s still alive!”
    She looked about. The last thing she wanted was to be discovered trespassing, talking to a giant crow. She turned back to Orrin, who had pinned his writhing prey with one black scaled claw. He looked up at her.
    “Food.”
    “Food for you maybe,” she said. “I’m a person. I need a warm bed and a meal—a decent meal. I’m starving.”
    She turned toward the cabin.
    “Sky—la.” It was a