Wednesday, February 14, 2007
A Small Town in Eastern South Dakota

I hate chores in February. I know they're a necessary evil, but February in eastern South Dakota is cold, cold, cold, which makes for miserable days. Most folks underestimate just how cold it can sometimes get. The mercury can sometimes dip below minus forty, and with the wind chill, it's brutal! The dearth of daylight hours didn't help; I got up in the dark, did chores, went to school, stayed for basketball practice, and came home in the dark for evening chores. It was a physical and mental grind, and if I hadn't been in basketball, I might have had a little free time, but like most 'jocks' in a small farming town, we jocks didn't participate in only one sport.

My primary interest was football, where I'd been starting linebacker as a mere sophomore, winning the spot over Scott Hollings, a senior, and making a mortal enemy of him in the process. Basketball and track were diversions to help me keep in shape during the off-season. Besides, Julie really had a thing for jocks, and staying active in other sports was one way to ensure that I remained the focus of her attention. She was a damned good kisser, and she was curvier than a Formula One race track, which made for some interesting ... recreation.

I'm Brandon Franks, or I was, and the start of my sophomore year held promise, or at least it started out that way. Five foot nine, one hundred sixty-five pounds of chiseled muscle, I was, if I do say so myself, rather good looking and had a good group of friends in school. My life, however, was about to become very different - in some ways a blessing, and in others a nightmare.

A lot of guys were razzing me, because as we came off the basketball court, Julie was waiting, and she gave me a very big kiss, which promised more of the same later that evening. I could hardly wait. Shower, home, do evening chores, have dinner, and then drive back to town for a night of cuddling and kissing. Sounds like a perfect evening to me.

"Hey Franks," one of the juniors called out angrily. "How do _you_ manage to date a girl like Julie?"

JJ picked up the question. "Yeah. She's a junior, for God's sakes!"

I just smiled and shrugged as I stripped off my practice uniform. Julie Robinson was a piece of heaven, at least in my eyes. Shoulder-length wavy dark hair, trim, athletic figure with just the right amount of curves. Gorgeous face, with soft blue eyes, very kissable lips, and not a blemish or flaw on her perfect skin that still bore the remnants of a golden summer tan. I couldn't help but smile when I thought of her. "Some guys got it, and some guys don't." I knew the looks they were giving me and the thoughts running through their minds - time to haze me for my sass. "And you can't do some of the shit you did last year, since I'm a sophomore!" I grinned.

Hazing freshmen was strictly against the rules, but the team did it anyway. The freshmen got the shower-head that was stuck on cold water, which was actually among the more pleasant tricks, like alternating Icy-Hot and cold spray on the nuts. I thought mine were going to crack and fall off when they did that to me! In track, I got trussed up in athletic tape like a mummy. It sucked to be the victim of that crap, but it was kind of a tradition - as long as the guys didn't get too carried away. But now that I was a sophomore, I was immune against hazing pranks. Well, mostly so.

"Man, she's hot!" Rich said appreciatively. "She's got legs that go forever, and I bet there's a nice prize when you manage to climb all the way to the top!" That comment elicited a round of cheers and guffaws.

I tried to keep my cool and not blush. "A gentleman doesn't talk about what he does with a lady," I said smugly, hoping it would drop.

It didn't. "Maybe, but you're no gentleman," Tom hooted.

"And from what I hear, she's no lady! Unless you're talking 'lady of the evening!'"

"Does she put out as much as everyone says?" another guy chimed in.

For some reason, I'd been picked as the target for all the verbal jabs that day. I'd heard that line of commentary before, and I was sick of it, and more than a bit upset that they were insulting Julie. Part of me wanted to defend Julie's honor, even though I knew of at least three guys she'd screwed, and that she had a bit of a reputation of being a good lay for jocks. Despite that, she was a sweet girl, and we'd agreed when we started dating that we wouldn't go past some petting, because she was trying to get her libido in check and restore her reputation.

"I'm not talking, Skelly," I said, trying to sound suave and unaffected by the barbs. "Besides, even if she _was_ like that, you wouldn't have a chance in hell if every other man's dick fell off and you were the last resort."

JJ picked up on my conversation diverter. "Yeah, Skelly," he taunted, "you couldn't get laid in a whorehouse!"

I left them to taunt Skelly while I prepared for my shower, not feeling too bad at turning the taunting to him, since Skelly had bullied me all through grade school and junior high until I had a growth spurt that made me taller and more muscular than he was. Oh, yeah, and I always looked like I was nicely tanned from working outside, thanks to genes from my mother's side of the family. I was one quarter Lakota, from my maternal grandmother, which gave me slightly darker skin than everyone else, so I could usually work all summer without ever getting sunburned, unlike many of my friends. Somehow, though, against all odds, my hair more reflected the Germanic origins from my father's side, even if I wasn't an ideal Nordic specimen.

When I finished up, I hustled out of the locker-room and drove home. It was already dark, and since I'd showered, my hair froze before the heater in my truck warmed up the cab. We lived on a very large farm, and my younger brother Danny and I had plenty of chores to help keep the place running. We had the normal seasonal chores - in the spring, it was calving, planting the spring wheat, plowing and planting corn, cutting hay and baling it. In the summer, we cultivated the corn, moved cattle among the fields so they wouldn't over-graze one area, harvested the winter wheat, and cut hay at least twice more., and then harvested the spring wheat. Fall was the light season; we just cut hay, harvested the corn, planted the winter wheat, and moved the cattle up to close to the barn for the winter. During the winter when it could get minus forty, we had to feed the cattle, which was an all-day affair. Normal farm life; I never knew anything different. It was worse than most farms, though, because we owned a moderate-sized trucking company based on the farm, hauling grain and livestock, and even delivering miscellaneous freight from places like Sioux Falls. Dad and Uncle Roger owned and ran an implement dealership in town, providing everything from farming implements to tractors to seed grain. So life was busy. It was all the farming that helped my muscles bulk up, so I stayed in great shape.

The evening was pretty normal; we had feed the cattle. My typical day started with morning chores, school, and then basketball practice or, Tuesdays and Fridays, a game. On nights without a game, we fed the cattle, and then I'd have a little time for studying or to run into town to hang with the guys. Free time was a precious commodity.

"Uh, dad?" I asked at the dinner table.

"Yeah?"

"Can I go into town tonight?"

"You want to see Julie, don't you," my kid brother teased.

"Jealous that you'll never have a girlfriend as hot as her?" I shot right back.

"Sure, but you've got chores before school tomorrow morning," Mom reminded me, "so not later than nine thirty."

"Aw, mom! Everyone is out until the town curfew at ten thirty!"

Mom gave the 'the look'. I hated 'the look'; it could make a grown man cry at fifty paces. It was, apparently, a woman's gift to get anything out of a man, that is, after the usual bribery tricks failed. And I wasn't talking bribery with money! I sighed. "Okay, nine-thirty." Let me think - it wasn't quite seven. Fifteen minutes to town, hang out in the burger joint for a while, shooting the shit with the guys and sitting off and on with Julie, then we leave for some serious making out, drop her off at nine-fifteen, and home around nine-thirty. That might be cutting it close, time-wise, but a few minutes of playing with Julie's firm, creamy breasts was worth it.

**********

In Town

The burger joint was crowded, but what else was there in a town of under one thousand? I strode in comfortably, watching the people around me. Julie sprang from the booth she was sitting in with her girlfriends and wrapped her arms around me, dragging me down into a very passionate kiss right in front of everyone - not that I minded in the least bit.

When that mind-blowing, fireworks-at-night kiss ended, my knees were wobbly. If she could do _that_ with just a kiss .... "I'm going to catch up with the guys for a bit. I'll see you in a few minutes, okay?"

Julie was quite happy that I wasn't a pushy, clingy, insecure boyfriend. When she'd dated Scott Hollings, he was overly possessive, and he made her life miserable by always being around her, demanding that she spend time with him instead of with her friends, and generally being an insanely jealous jerk. Even though he was my rival for the starting spot on the football team, I wouldn't say anything bad about him, at least not in public. It didn't help to make enemies in school, and besides, anything I did say would get back to him eventually. That's the downside of a small town- everyone knows everyone, and secrets aren't secret for long.

After I finished a bit of bull with the guys, I walked casually to the booth Julie and her friends were in and pulled up a chair at the end, sitting backwards in the chair with my legs spread around the seat back, and leaning one arm on it. "What's new?" I asked, placing my hand on Julie's. She liked affectionate touches like that, and to be honest, I really didn't mind. Hell, I'll admit it - I liked it, too.

"We heard that Sara Johnson, you know, Harry's cousin over in Wessington? Well, someone said that she's a mutant! They also said that the MCO had taken her away," one of the cheerleaders reported. They huddled around and spoke in conspiratorial tones, even though everyone within five yards could hear them - easily.

I grimaced. "Wow! I wonder if Harry's got the genes, too. He's kind of young, so he might manifest, too!" The area wasn't a bastion for Humanity First, but the prejudice still ran very deep. I was glad that I wasn't on the receiving end of it. Life had just gone from tough to nearly impossible for Sara and her family.

"I don't know," Cheryl, one of the cheerleaders, said. "I heard she and her family had to get out of town pretty quickly."

"I'm glad that kind of thing doesn't happen here! I've heard the tension around mutants can tear apart friendships and families. "I wasn't a hard-core mutant-hating bigot, unlike some people, but I wasn't sure that I liked the ideas of mutants living among us normal people. A few years back, a rager mutant had gone on a murder spree that started in Huron, ripped through a few small towns, and then hit the capital, Pierre, like a sledge-hammer on an ant-hill, before she was finally stopped by a very elite outside military force. Before her rampage was done, one hundred sixty eight people were dead, including six police officers and thirty-three national guardsmen who'd tried to stop her, and over seven hundred innocent civilians were injured, some crippled for life. Even though there were quite a few level-headed people who rightly pointed out that baselines committed horrible acts of mass murder as well, much of the state was left with an extreme case of mutant-phobia which probably spilled over into our neighboring states.

The rest of the discussion focused on Sara's mutation, mostly involving wild speculation about what her mutation was. If the kids were to be believed, she was some type of laser-beam-eyed, flesh-eating, rock monster. Even I thought that was a little over the top. Some mutants seemed so normal, though. I'd heard that one of the bankers in Mitchell and a few businessmen in Sioux Falls were mutants, and then there were all the superheroes who fought not only supervillain mutants, but regular criminals as well.

After a while, Julie and I made our excuses and left, but instead of going home, we went to Make-out Mountain. While it's true that there are no mountains in eastern South Dakota, the river bluffs overlooking the James River provided some spectacular vistas of the river valley, especially looking out on a serene, snow-covered valley on a moonlit night in the winter. One of the higher bluffs had gotten the nickname through repeated use for ... extra-curricular activities. The effect of the stunning view under the moon and stars was supposedly the best aphrodisiac anyone could ever ask for. I was content with some kissing and playing with Julie's stunning vistas. And I got delayed, because her bra hooks got snagged in the carpet - again. I missed curfew by ten minutes, but Mom didn't object - too much.

**********

Thursday, February 15, 2007
The Franks Family Farm

I woke up early - five o'clock, got dressed, scarfed down a few eggs and some bacon, and high-tailed it to the barn, where Bessy awaited. Yes, we had a milk cow, and yes, Mom named her Bessy. While milking and gathering eggs were a royal pain, fresh milk and fresh eggs were to die for, unlike the poor substitutes that were sold in stores.

While I was milking Bessy, Danny gathered the eggs from the chicken coop, a task with much dust, squawking, and flying feathers. He was starting eighth grade, and was much smaller than I was. I knew he'd rapidly tire from milking, even though he was the bulkiest, strongest kid in his class, so I took the 'hard' chore, or so he thought. In my opinion, milking was much easier than dealing with crotchety, half-sleeping hens and a very territorial rooster, in a dark, dusty chicken coop. Besides, it really built up hand-strength. Once the milking was done, I fueled up the diesel tank in Dad's pickup, and then fueled my own truck before I went in to shower so I could go to school.

As a side note, I should explain that kids in South Dakota can get a driver's license at the age of fourteen, since it's a very rural state, and farm boys - and girls - are often driving tractors and trucks between farms, fields, and town much earlier in life - sometimes at the tender age of nine or ten! None of the police or state troopers pay any attention to a freckle-faced junior-high student driving a large truck full of wheat or corn to the nearest grain elevator. It was very convenient; if we took the bus, it tacked on an extra forty minutes, because the bus route wended its way all over the countryside to pick up or drop off kids. On top of that, the buses had long since left school by the time practice was over.

For some reason, during the drive in to school, I felt hot and cold flashes, and my stomach churned. Was I coming down with something? Food poisoning, perhaps? They didn't reoccur, so I didn't worry about it. Instead, with my book backpack slung over one shoulder, I took my clean athletic gear into the locker room in the gym to stow until practice later in the afternoon. While walking back toward the classrooms, I felt another hot flash, and feeling dizzy, I staggered down the hall and against the wall like I was drunk. Everything went topsy-turvy. I completely lost my balance, and felt like I was ready to hurl. I had another very hot flash, and then everything went dark.

I came to, lying flat on my back on the floor, with a couple of guys staring down at me. "What's wrong?" I asked, puzzled by the frightened expressions they bore. "Guys?" I was getting no reaction. "Guys?" The way they were staying at me was spooky.

My best friend JJ's expression slowly changed from bewilderment to a strange mixture of fear and anger, his face a shade of red that made scarlet look like a pastel color. "Get out of here, mutant!" he screamed angrily, though his eyes reflected terror and his voice cracked with his fear. I had a momentary thought that he was going to burst some blood vessels and have a stroke. "Get out of here!"

Slowly, I levered myself off the floor, watching in disbelief as the guys backed away from me. "Guys..." I pleaded.

"Get out of here before we make you sorry, mutant!" JJ snarled at me, putting particular emphasis on the word mutant, as if it were the most disgusting word in the English language.

Things weren't clicking. I wasn't a mutant. I couldn't be a mutant! So why was he calling me that? Stunned, I turned to other guys, and saw them flinch and step back from me. Something was going on, and I didn't like the outcome that the facts logically led to. Somehow, based on the way the guys were reacting, I'd manifested as a mutant. But that was impossible! Seeing their fear and rage, and knowing the anti-mutant sentiment in the area, I did the only thing possible when surrounded by guys who hated mutants and looked like they wanted to beat the crap out of me like I was one. I stumbled to my feet and dashed into the relative safety of the locker room.

Mr. Bob, as the assistant coach preferred to be called, was straightening up a few things in the coach's cage, and when he saw me run in, he glanced up. His jaw immediately dropped, and all color drained from his face, leaving chalk-white jowls flapping in disbelief and fear. After staring a few seconds, he bolted to the door of the cage, much faster than one would believe a two-hundred seventy pound man could, and locked it from the inside.

To say that I was frightened was putting it mildly. What the hell was going on? I ran into the bathroom, to look in a mirror, and damn near fainted. I looked like I always had, except that my eyes had changed. Instead of the hazel irises I'd grown up with, the color was unmistakably verdant, a lush green that was unnatural. There was no mistaking the Kelly green of my eyes now. I felt a cry choking in my throat at what I saw. I was a mutant. Eye color changes as radical as mine occurred _only_ in mutants, and my eyes displayed such a radical change, marking me forever as a mutant to anyone who'd known that I had hazel eyes. I turned and fled.

At least, I tried to. I was terrified by the reaction I'd already seen, and didn't want to take any chances. I was just about at the doors to the parking lot when they burst open, and several of my schoolmates stormed into the building, led by JJ. I halted, terrified by the looks of raw hatred on some of the guys when they recognized me.

"Get out of here, gene-filth!" one of them hissed angrily.

"Fucking mutant! Do us all a favor and go kill yourself!"

"Let's teach this filth a lesson," Scott snapped. It wasn't hard for the two of them to whip the crowd into a frenzy. I couldn't believe that my friends were reacting the way they were.

Unfortunately for me, that frenzy was directed my way. I started to back up as the terrifying mob advanced, and then I turned and ran. The only direction I could go was into the auditorium next to the locker room, with an angry mob right behind me. Just as I reached the doors and pushed against the panic bar to open them, a pile-driver of a fist slammed into the side of my head. Even before I started to crumple from that blow, three more fists contacted my ribs, producing pain and a couple of loud cracks. I felt a rain of fist blows and kicks as I collapsed and my vision faded; the last thing I remember was thinking that these guys, my friends, were going to kill me.

**********

In Town

I woke up, sore in every part of my body. From the pain in my groin, I knew that someone had taken special sadistic delight in kicking me multiple times in the crotch, or even stomping on my genitals. My ribs hurt, my face hurt, one arm felt like it was broken. My eyes were swollen to the point that I could hardly see out of them. For several long seconds, I stared at my surroundings, trying to make sense of where I was. I was lying in the snow somewhere, but I wasn't sure where. After looking around for a while, my mind slowly re-engaging and starting to process the data my senses were sending it, I came to the conclusion that I was between the two large dumpsters behind the gym, a low-traffic area used mainly by the janitors. I was baffled; at minus twenty degrees, I _should_ have frozen to death within an hour at most. Instead, I still felt quite warm, almost hot. I could see the light in the parking lot, which told me that it was at least late afternoon. Staring at my watch produced no results for several long moments as my eyes tried to focus and my brain struggled to process the information. Finally, the time made sense - nine thirty-five. I'd been unconscious for around fourteen hours.

I tried to lever myself up, but my battered body wasn't cooperating, except to shoot tendrils of red-hot agony through my brain. I studied my surroundings a bit more before I tried anything else, because I knew that I might have only one chance to get myself out of this mess, and if I messed up and slipped, I might go unconscious again, and then I'd certainly freeze.

The guys had beaten me badly, and then callously hauled me out to a relatively unused area on the school grounds to let me die. I reached up to a metal handle on the dumpster to pull myself up, and I nearly passed out in the pain that exploded from my rib cage. It hurt enough that I gasped, and was rewarded with a fresh burst of agony in my ribs. Carefully, slowly, I pulled myself up using the arm that didn't seem broken, and began to methodically take stock of the situation. At the same time, it dawned on me that I should look out for more of the crazed, mutant-hating boys. My right arm hung at an odd angle, unusable to me. My legs hurt, but I could stand on them - barely. I didn't realize that some of the flesh of my left palm had been torn off when my hand had stuck to the frozen metal. Even though it was bitterly cold, it felt like I was in an oven, sweating like the proverbial stuck hog.

Leaning against the building for support, I looked nervously around me for any sign of the guys. Practice was long since over, and the only thing left in the parking lot was my truck.

God, my parent must be worried about me, I thought. I reached for my cell phone to call them, and maybe ask for some help before I remembered that I always left my cell phone in my truck, so the cell-phone-Nazi administration couldn't confiscate it, like they did to the phones of so many less cautious students. My keys to my pickup were still in my pocket and my wallet was still in my back pocket. The idiots didn't even care about my money; they were in a blood rage, intent on hurting me as badly as possible before they killed me. And if they'd have taken my keys ....

I stumbled across the parking lot, in the dim glow of the one working light in the entire lot. I had sudden worries that they'd done something to my truck, like slashing the tire or putting something in the fuel tank, which would leave me stranded in town in the freezing cold, and at the mercy of whatever mutant-hating person happened by. I certainly was in no shape to defend myself. It appeared, though, that they'd released enough of their anger beating me nearly to death, and were either too tired or just didn't think to mess with my truck.

Driving home with a fever, a manual transmission, and a broken right arm was no easy feat, especially when my eyes were swollen half-shut and my ribs protested even the slightest movement of my body. Once I got the truck in third gear, nearly passing out from the pain, I decided that I was going to drive home that way, running stop signs if necessary. I was mortified by the thought that if I did have to shift again, I might lose consciousness and never wake up.

"Oh, shit!" I exclaimed suddenly, wincing at the stabbing in my left side. "Julie!" I remembered that Julie and I were going to meet that night. Now it was too late, and through no fault of my own, she was going to think I stood her up. Or, based on the efficiency of the town's rumor-mill, she was going to get an earful about my being some kind of horrible mutant. It wasn't fair. I'd been a good kid, a good friend who never backstabbed anyone, a gentleman with Julie - mostly, and a good student. Hell, I was an outstanding student, but I played that part low-key. Why did this have to happen to me? Why did I have to be a mutant?

It was nearly ten-thirty when I pulled into the farmyard, shutting off the truck as it rolled to a stop. I was too sore to do anything except nearly faint. I certainly didn't think I'd be able to open the door and get to the house.

I needn't have worried. Mom and Dad ran out when they heard the rumble of the diesel engine of my truck. Dad opened the door, and stepped back in shock. Mom turned away, covering her mouth to keep from throwing up. "What ... happened?" Dad stammered.

"I ... I manifested. I'm ... a mutant," I said simply, looking at him with my green eyes, barely-visible through my swollen cheeks and face. "The guys tried to kill me ... because I'm a mutant." Every word ached, because I had to breathe, which aggravated my broken ribs, and also because it was a bitter reminder of how my friends had betrayed and tried to kill me. Somehow, Dad carried me inside and up to my bedroom. I don't remember much besides being laid down gently. I must have passed out from pain again.

I wasn't sure if it was due to pain, or pain killers, or just my imagination, but I had a very strange dream as I slept.

A young and incredibly beautiful Native American woman leading a small white buffalo came by me. The woman, who appeared to be a couple of years older than me, was lovely in a way that was uniquely and distinctively Lakota, distinctive from European standards of beauty, but still exotic and quite compelling. The buffalo was about the size of a St. Bernard dog, which surprised me - a miniature buffalo? I didn't understand what the woman was saying, but she had a very calming presence. It seemed, from the way he looked at me, that the buffalo was sentient, too. It was very peaceful as we all sat down in a high-mountain meadow, the buffalo on my right and the woman on my left. Everything was curiously real; I remember the feeling of the cool mountain breeze on my face and the chilly water of the mountain brook, the delightfully fresh smell of the air, and intoxicatingly sweet scent of the pine trees.

I wanted to ask where we were, but the woman put her fingers to my lips, indicating I should be silent. After resting for a while, she gave me a small, leather pouch. I started to open it, but she stopped me. Then her clothing transformed instantly into that of a medicine woman, and we were sitting at an evening fire in a circle of tepees. The woman opened a large pouch and took out some leaves and herbs and such, and then mixed come kind of tea from them, allowing them to soak and brew. Then she handed me the beverage.

When I took it, she smiled, and sitting in the lotus position, she began to chant in a wonderfully lyrical, musical, and vaguely familiar tongue. From having been around my Lakota grandmother a lot, I thought I recognized some of the words the woman was chanting, which meant that she was Lakota. Maybe. I wasn't sure, though. When she finished, she indicated, through signs and hand gestures, that I should drink the tea she'd made.

Hesitantly, I drank it. The feeling within me was warm and soothing. I was suddenly inside one of the tepees, and I slowly fell, onto a thick, warm, buffalo skin blanket that hadn't been there a moment before.

**********

Saturday February 17, 2007
the Franks Family Farm

I woke with a start, and flinched at the pain in my ribs, which seemed to have lessened considerably. I also had icepacks on my forehead, chest, arms, and legs which weren't cooling me down from the sensation of being in the middle of a roaring fireplace. Easing myself out from under the ice packs and out of bed, I discovered that there was a cast on my right arm. Somehow, Mom and Dad had gotten Doc Robinson to make a house call, or they'd taken me to his clinic in the middle of the night, so my arm could be tended to. In either case, I wasn't awake, or simply didn't remember it. There was no hospital or emergency room in this dinky town; the nearest was half an hour away, which made the mystery of the cast even greater.

My entire body hurt less, which is not to say that it didn't still hurt a lot, just less than when I'd been laid in my bed. I limped to the bathroom and took care of my morning business, and then stepped to the mirror to inspect the damage. Both my eyes were blackened, and it looked like one cheekbone had been broken, as was my nose. The swelling in my eyes had abated considerably, so I stare in awe at my green eyes. Upon closer and more deliberate examination, it seemed that there was a very slight glow radiating from my eyes. Experimentally, I flipped off the light and was confronted by eyes that had the soft, warm green glow that reminded me of an electroluminescent nightlight. Startled, I fumbled at the light switch until I managed to click it back on. It seemed that there was also something different about my eye shape, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

I wasn't sure if I was seeing things due to my head being battered, or if my hair seemed a little bit longer, and darker closer to my scalp. The bathroom scale told me that I'd lost almost ten pounds. Given what had happened, and not eating most of yesterday because I was unconscious and being very feverish, that didn't seem unreasonable. .

The reason I was paying so close attention to my body is that I could mutate into damned near anything, and I'd heard tales of mutants turning into things like small faeries or dogs or demons or such. That thought scared me more than a little; I didn't want to be anything weird or gross. So far, I was still human, and that was something to be glad of. I splashed some cold water on my face, finished my normal morning ritual, even though it was made considerably more difficult because one arm was confined in a cast, and then hobbled back to my bed. Fortunately, I used an electric razor, or I wouldn't have been able to shave. It slowly dawned on me that it hadn't taken me very long to shave, almost like there was less stubble.

Mom heard me, and rushed up the stairs. "Brandon? Are you okay?" She felt my forehead. "Your fever isn't too bad today."

To be honest, I thought I felt more than a bit warm. Quite hot, in fact. "Fever? Is that why I feel so hot and sweaty?"

Mom nodded. "Doc Robinson didn't know anything, but I found information on-line about mutations that sounds like you went through what's called a burnout."

"Burnout? What's that?" I felt a stab of fear; the term sounded ominous.

"Your mutant powers overloaded for some reason, and caused ... problems in your body," Mom said carefully. "When we took you to the clinic, you broke their thermometer. You were in an ice bath for nearly four hours before Doc got your body temperature down to one hundred three."

I almost fell over in shock. "Down to ...?" A prolonged fever of one hundred four could cause brain damage. Her statement implied that my temperature had been significantly higher. "Is it my ... mutation?" I asked, frightened at the changes my body seemed to be undergoing. My voice squeaked a little. They must have hit me in the throat a few times, because my voice was a little off, and my throat was quite sore.

Mom led me into the bedroom and helped me sit on the bed. "A lot of the swelling went down over the last day and a half, too," she observed.

"Day ... and a half?" I stammered. Had I been unconscious that long?

Mom must have read my thoughts. "You were out all yesterday. It's Saturday."

I gaped at that news; I'd lost a day of my life. Almost two counting Thursday when I was nearly killed.

"Do you feel like breakfast? Can you come downstairs, or would you like me to bring something up?"

"Breakfast sounds good," I said, still squawking. I rubbed my throat. "My throat hurts."

"Then don't talk too much," Mom said. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm okay, I think." I held up the arm with the cast. "How'd I get this?"

Mom smiled. "We took you to Doc Robinson's clinic." She shook her head. "I could tell that he'd already heard the gossip around town, but he still patched up your arm. Based on his reaction and some of the things he was saying, though, I don't think he likes mutants, "

"Like me?"

Mom nodded somberly. "Like you. A couple of times, your eyes popped open, and he saw them. When he was walking out to his car, your father heard him muttering about damned mutants."

"Does anything look ... different?" I asked. Something didn't seem quite right.

Mom studied my face for a bit. "Your eye shape seems to be a little different." She looked some more. "And you need a haircut."

"What's happening to me?" I asked as panic gripped my throat. "Am I going to turn into some kind of monster, like a lot of mutants do?"

Mom shook her head, sighing. "I don't know. From what I've read, you could change into anything as a result of your mutation. Whatever happens, though, you're still our son, and we'll always love you."

I hadn't hear the last part after Mom affirmed what I feared. "Shit. That's just fucking great! I'll probably turn into some kind of monster!" I muttered in disgust.

"Brandon! Watch your language!"

"Sorry, mom. It's just ... this is all kind of ...."

"Weird? Unexpected? Scary?"

I nodded. "Yeah. And since the town has probably all heard about it ...." I winced, thinking of the reaction my friends had had, and the thumping they'd given me.

Mom gulped nervously; I could tell, from her reaction, that she and Dad had probably discussed that very thing this morning or late last night. She patted my good arm, and then went back to the kitchen. I could smell the heavenly aroma of bacon cooking. I knew she'd make me the usual breakfast - a half-dozen slices of bacon, three or four scrambled eggs, and a few slices of toast with jam, which was my all-time favorite, especially mom's home-made chokecherry jelly!

I was somewhat sore and incredibly fatigued, which I figured was from my body trying to heal all the physical insults which had been heaped on it Thursday. I took a nap as soon as I was done with breakfast and another after lunch. I got up for dinner, again, and afterwards, had Mom help me get ready for my shower. I chased her out, though; even though she'd given birth to me, and changed my diapers for years, the thought of her seeing me nude, now that I was well into puberty, was too humiliating. When I finished, I fought the towel to dry off, which was difficult considering one arm was immobilized in a sling. After screaming in frustration for the third time, Mom came into the bathroom. I turned quickly, hiding my privates from view and feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

She laughed. "I won't look. And it sounded like you need some help."

I couldn't argue with Mom's logic, but it was still somewhat embarrassing. Once I was dried, she left the bathroom so I could get dressed. I decided to pull on the shorts I normally wore to sleep, since I was still tired. It sucked not having energy to do anything that I wanted to do. Once I had my shorts on, I carried my T-shirt out to the hall, where Mom was waiting, so she could help me put it on. I really, really hoped I didn't have the cast for long, because I hated feeling so helpless. I decided to go straight to bed, where I could read or watch my television if I wasn't sleepy.

It was difficult falling asleep, based on all the things that still hurt, and the cast on my arm. Once I did, though, I found myself sitting in a high-mountain meadow again.

"Greetings, Wihakayda," I heard behind me. I spun, and saw the white buffalo. It's hard to take a buffalo as intimidating when he's the size of a Great Dane.

"Why do you call me Wihakayda?" I asked. "My name is Brandon."

"You are Wihakayda," the buffalo replied. He turned to the beautiful woman who walked up beside him, and said something in a language I didn't understand. From listening to my Grandmother Little Doe, however, I was certain that it was the Lakota language.

The woman turned to me, pointed, and said, "Wihakayda."

"But ...," I started to protest.

The woman turned away, and the buffalo turned with her, glancing over his shoulder at me. "Come," he directed.

We walked through the meadow to a path, which started climbing. "Where are we going?" I asked the buffalo. He just turned and looked at me, smiling. A buffalo smiling is another one of those oddities that people don't think about, and is weird when you actually see it.

We continued, stopping every so often to drink from a stream, and the woman found some wild berries for us to eat. The red juice stained the fur of the buffalo, which made him look like he was wearing lipstick. That caused me to laugh aloud, which seemed to greatly annoy the buffalo.

Eventually, we arrived at the top of a mountain, and I gasped. I could see far in all directions, and it was breathtaking. I felt we were near the clouds, as they scooted across the sky close over our heads. "Where is this?" I asked, almost in awe.

"We are at the top of Paha Sapa," the buffalo said, "the sacred mountains of the Lakota."

I stood, turning slowly, taking in the magnificent vistas. The woman stepped to my side, which I barely realized until she put her arm around my waist. She spoke in Lakota, but I didn't understand what she was saying.

"You belong here," the buffalo said. "This is the top of Paha Sapa, and Wihakayda belongs here. _You_ belong here. You belong to the land, to all sacred places."

It confused me that the buffalo said I belong there. I didn't understand, and I really didn't like that he had called me Wihakayda again. It sounded ... girly.

After that, the buffalo took me around the Black Hills, to sites that were of importance to the Lakota culture. We'd been out west many times, so I knew them, but not like the buffalo was showing me. Whereas before I'd seen trees on mountains, now it seemed as if the trees were alive, and populated with creatures of all kinds - squirrels, rabbits, coyotes, birds, and even an eagle. My senses were much more discerning, more alive. We didn't talk; he wanted me to listen and feel to the natural world.

**********

Monday, February 19

I woke from a very peaceful but troubling dream, feeling sticky and sweaty but well rested for a change, and quite confused as to the meaning of the nocturnal vision. My ribs, which had been shattered to the point of causing extreme agony with the slightest of body motions, didn't hurt very much at all, but until I got out of bed and started moving around, I wouldn't know for sure if I really was as healed as I initially felt.

When I managed to struggle to my feet, overcoming some pain and weakness, I noticed that there was no more pain, except for something that felt like indigestion and intestinal pressure. I could live with that, if it was the only thing that hurt. I went to the bathroom to look at myself more closely. I had absolutely no stubble, which really surprised me; I'd been shaving for over a year and normally had serious facial hair o prune every morning. "Well," I talked to my image in the mirror as if it were another person, "your morning routine just got easier." I stepped on the scale, and was scared to see that I'd lost another ten pounds, or almost twenty pounds since I'd mutated. I _was_ changing, but into what, I didn't know. I stepped back to the mirror and scrutinized my face and body. My face looked thinner and less oblong, and I couldn't tell if my cheeks were a little more prominent, or if they were still swollen from the beat-down. I could tell now that my hair was longer, about halfway to my shoulders, and the new hair was darker than the tips; if I cut my hair to its normal length, I would be a light brunette instead of sandy-blonde. My skin definitely looked a shade darker, more tanned.

What really worried me was that my arms and chest were a little smaller. Those glorious, well-toned, hard-earned muscles that girls loved to look at and rub their hands over, and which gave me one of the best physiques at school, were not as prominent. And further, my chest seemed a bit puffy. Well, not my whole chest. Just two points on my chest, the same two spots that I'd enjoyed playing with on Julie's chest. The thought of what that meant scared the holy living crap out of me.

When I looked again, I couldn't help wondering if I was shorter. That couldn't be! I ran back to my room and got a book to use as a square, and measured my height. My eyes nearly bugged out; I was at least an inch shorter, which would have normally been impossible. I _was_ mutating, there was no question about that. I'd been secretly hoping to become something of a superman, but that wasn't happening. What made me scream, though, was when I dropped my shorts and discovered that 'little Brandon' looked smaller than just two days prior. While I wasn't hung like a horse or a porn star, I had a respectable piece of equipment in my drawers, or rather, I used to have. Now it looked like a limp party balloon after most of the air had seeped out, and his sidekicks looked -more like grapes than plums. When I held it to relieve myself, I frowned, because I couldn't really feel it when I held the shaft. After I wiped it off, I experimentally touched the tip, and my eyes nearly popped out, because it felt like every nerve in the length had migrated to the tip, making it hyper-sensitive. Coupled with the small bumps on my chest, the changes to my junk seemed to confirm the truly horrible thought that I was losing my manhood as I continue to mutate.

When I looked at my watch, I was stunned to see that it was already Monday! That meant I'd slept all through Sunday! No wonder I'd lost weight and looked thinner - I had missed three full meals!

I stumbled downstairs, and Mom rushed to hug me. "How are you feeling?" she asked, sounding quite concerned.

I shook my head. "I don't know," I answered. "Still tired and a little sore."

"We were worried about you," Mom said, clutching me tightly. "You slept all day yesterday again, with a pretty high fever. I found more information on-line about burnout, so we kept lots of icepacks on you, and that helped control your temperature." She felt my forehead. "At least it feels like the fever has broken. I called school and told the principal that you're ill."

I spent most of the day resting in bed, except when I went downstairs to watch television, which was a complete waste of time. I hated daytime shows, and after twenty minutes of channel-surfing among the inanity that was talk shows and soap operas, I put in my favorite movie, 'Kelly's Heroes', which was a great guy's movie. I was so fatigued that I only halfway watched the movie, drifting off to nap frequently, and rising from the sofa only to go to the bathroom, which was itself a disastrous experience every time because it reminded me that my little friend and his buddies were shrinking. Even though the evidence said otherwise, I forced myself to ignore the changes there, and to lie to myself that my mutation wasn't doing what I was afraid it truly was doing.

I wanted to call or text my friends, but I no longer had friends. No-one had called or texted me since I'd manifested; word must have spread through the town like wildfire, and nobody wanted to be seen or heard talking to the mutant. I understood why, even though the knowledge didn't help the hurt that I felt. That thought was very depressing, almost overwhelmingly so, and very, very frightening. I curled up on the sofa, fighting back tears stinging my eyes. I had nothing. I'd lost my friends, my sports activities, and I was losing my body as I changed into God-knows-what. What was worse was that my friends and neighbors were so frightened of mutants that they'd tried to kill me out of abject fear. There weren't a lot of people in my entire home state who didn't want me dead.

Mom woke me up for dinner and guided me to the restroom. My cheeks were tear-streaked from the crying I'd been doing even while I napped. She was gentle in wiping my face, providing the first reassuring thing I'd encountered all day. I might be changing, but at least my family was staying close and supportive. I felt warm when she hugged me closely, but I had to break her embrace and chase her out of the bathroom when I realized that my bladder was full.

Mom and Dad tried to be cheery and conversant through dinner, but I didn't feel much like talking, since I didn't have much positive to talk about. Mom knew I felt depressed, since she made Danny do the dishes while I went back to lie on the sofa. Dad sat in his chair and read the newspaper, glancing occasionally my way but not quite sure what to say. By eight-thirty or nine, I decided to drag myself upstairs to bed, because I had nothing better to do. It was only as I lay on my pillow that I realized I hadn't spent any time at all with my 'hobbies'; I hadn't done anything with my books, and I hadn't done anything to work on Grandpa's car. That was yet another depressing thought as I drifted to sleep.

I could smell the smoke of a nearby fire, and as I looked around, I was taken aback when my gaze was drawn to a black sky lit with the twinkling of stars and the hazy belt of the Milky Way. There were no lights around or overhead, so the sky was wonderfully clear and the stars sharp. I stared for a long while, enchanted by the spectacular vista.

"I always like looking at the stars," a voice said beside me, startling me.

When my heart restarted, I stared disapprovingly at the massive white buffalo standing beside me. There was enough light from the moon and stars to show him as a grayish shadow against the dark earth. "You startled me."

"Yes, I know. But you shouldn't have been startled."

"How could I _not_ be startled when you sneak up on me?"

The buffalo smiled. "When you are in touch with the spirits of the earth and wind, you will no longer be startled or surprised."

I frowned. "You talk of things that are impossible, don't you?"

"No. You will learn. It is the way things must be."

"Why?"

"Because you are Wihakayda. You are part of Ptesanwi."

"What? I'm Brandon, not Wikayla,, or whatever you called me."

"Are you certain?" the buffalo asked. I could tell he was smiling wryly as he looked up and down my body. "And your name is Wihakayda."

My eyes followed his, and they widened in surprise. I was dressed in buckskin leather, and I could see my long, black hair moving around my shoulders as I moved my head. There was something different about my body shape as well; my arms and legs were more slender, and my hands finer, and my chest puffed out a little. "What are you doing to me?"

"I am doing nothing. You are becoming what you must be."

"What am I supposed to be?"

"Wihakayda." The buffalo turned away from me. "Come."

"Huh? Where are we going?" I asked as I fell in step beside the buffalo.

The buffalo paused and stared at me. "You ask too many questions." He turned back, and he grew to be a full-sized bison. "In time, you will learn patience, Wihakayda. Come," he repeated as he walked slowly and steadily in the direction he'd started.

Not knowing what else to do, I continued with him. I could feel the earth beneath my moccasins in a way that I never had when wearing tennis shoes, probably not like I'd felt since I ran around barefoot as a little kid. We walked up a hill, him silent and refusing to answer any more of my questions. At the top of the hill, we paused to look down into a small valley which looked like it had a river running through it. Beside a copse of trees was a collection of tepees, visible as dark triangular silhouettes against a deep blue-violet sky, many with a slight flickering orange tint as the fire cast its illumination around the camp.

We walked between two tepees into the center of the village. What surprised me was that no-one was around, except for one figure seated at the fire with her back to me. I knew her, just from her outline and hair.

The buffalo shrank to Great Dane-sized again, and nudge me to the fire, where I sat on a log beside the woman, and the buffalo sat on the opposite side of me. The woman spoke, sounding very sexy and seductive in her lyrical tongue. The buffalo interpreted. "You have much to learn, Wihakayda," he said. "But Wakan Tanka says that you are learning quickly."

"Huh?"

She spoke more, smiling at me. I wasn't paying attention to her words; as a typical American teenager, I was looking at her. She was incredibly pretty, possibly more-so since her features were highlighted with the orange-red flickering of the fire. She had the typically high cheeks of a Native American woman, and her lips were sensuous without being ridiculous. Under her buckskin dress, she had the right curves in the right places, and her hair was braided on both sides, accentuating her long, silky, dark tresses. I was noticing these details a lot more than my previous dream, which surprised me. I figured it was because my body was less sore, but whatever it was, I couldn't help but think of how beautiful the woman would look nude, especially on a bed with me.

"She says that you must learn to be Ptesanwi," the buffalo said, "but you stopped to look at the stars, to discover what was around you. That is a good sign that you are learning to pay attention to your surroundings. You will learn quickly." The buffalo smiled. "And you should not look at Wakan Tanka with such feelings in your head. You will understand soon."

The beautiful woman lifted a leather bag, extracted a few small pouches and a bowl, and began to mix some herbs in the deep bowl. Next, she added some water from a gourd, and set the bowl aside for the herbs to steep into a tea.

**********

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

I started the morning as I had the previous mornings - feeling warm and sweaty, but not as much so. When I got up, I went to the bathroom with a sense of dread and fear, not knowing what I would discover had happened to me during the night. Even though my bladder felt like it would burst, I started by brushing my teeth to delay using the toilet as long as possible, since I feared the changes below my waist the most. As I looked, still enchanted by my green eyes, I noticed that the roots of my hair were still darker, now medium brunette, and longer by probably an inch and a half, much longer than I liked to wear it. I wasn't sure about my face, but it seemed thinner, and my cheeks seemed more pronounced, possibly with higher cheekbones?

In the mirror, I could also see my bare chest and arms, which were far less muscular than they had been just days before. The only things that seemed to be larger were the small bulges on my chest under my swollen, puffier nipples. Sighing, I backed up against the door jamb and took a rough mark of my height. About an inch lower than yesterday's mark. And the scale told me that I'd lost yet another eight pounds. There was one final task, and I dreaded it, but my bladder wouldn't let me escape it. At the toilet, I easily dropped my shorts, because my waist was thinner with my height and weight loss. I closed my eyes for a minute to steel myself for the bad news, and then looked and reached down to take aim at the toilet.

Mom dashed up the stairs when she heard me scream. She stopped in the bathroom door, gawking at me.

"Mom? What's happening to me?"

"I ... I don't know," Mom answered truthfully. She put her hand on my forehead. "At least your fever hasn't come back."

Mom simply nodded, alternating her gaze between what was left of my 'package', the growing bulges on my chest, and my visibly reduced muscles. "Everything I read about mutations said that your change might take years. But maybe your body is just reacting to getting beat up so badly, or to your burnout," she offered, but there was no genuine hope in her words; they were merely to placate and calm me, because she was as confused as I was. "According to a few sources I found on-line, your burnout might have been triggered by some mutant powers having to work so hard after your ... injuries."

"What does that mean?" I asked, getting more nervous as Mom tried to explain what she knew.

"Since you were so badly injured, your body had to use some kind of healing powers, and your burnout may have accelerated your mutation, which means that instead of taking months or years, you may be changing much faster."

"Into ... what?" I cried, frantic. "From what I see, it looks like I'm turning into a ..." I couldn't finish the statement.

"It looks like you're turning into a girl," Mom confirmed my fears, wrapping me in an awkward hug. "Everything will be okay, dear. I chatted on-line with an expert who knows quite a bit about mutations. He was surprised at the speed of your changes. When I described your rapid recovery from your injuries, he said that explains it - when a new mutant has to use his or her powers so quickly after the onset of their manifesting, it can sometimes speed up their physical changes. He also confirmed that you really did have a mild burnout, which is another thing that can accelerate your rate of change. Based on what he said, we'll keep watching your temperature for a few days, but you should be okay," she said comfortingly. "Now finish up here, get your clothes on, and get back in bed to rest. I'll be up with breakfast in a few minutes."

Without anything else to do, I followed Mom's suggestion. One big problem was that my boxer shorts were too large in the waist now, confirming that I was losing muscle mass and muscular definition, except in two embarrassing places.

When I got back in bed, I noticed that I had a text message from Julie. I didn't know what to think, so I opened it and read.

~JJ said you manifested and are a mutant. He said your eyes were green and there was a green glow around your whole body for a couple of minutes.~

I sighed. ~Yes. Before school Thursday.~ I'd wondered how they'd known if the only thing I had seen were my green eyes. At least I knew the answer to _that_ mystery, not that it helped.

~Is that why you couldn't pick me up?~

~You know I wouldn't stand you up. I got beat up pretty badly. I didn't get home until after ten~

~Ten? You had the day to get ready~ The tone of her words indicated clearly that she was miffed.

~At night. After almost killing me with a beat-down, the guys left me out in the snow by the dumpsters to freeze to death. That's why you didn't see me at school Thursday, Friday, or this weekend~

~That's horrible!~

~Broken ribs, broken arm, broken cheekbone, black eyes, and that's just the start~

I waited for a reply for quite a while. Julie was usually very prompt with responses in her texting conversations. Finally, as Mom brought up my breakfast, my phone beeped.

~Daddy says I can't talk to you or text or see you anymore because you're a mutant. I'm so sorry~

I suspected that Julie was actually crying. She always told me that I was the first guy who treated her as a friend, and didn't look at her as just another notch in the belt. She was enamored with how I considered her feelings and desires and wishes first, before my own. After our second date, she was rubbing my crotch and making suggestions, but I told her that even though she was super-sexy and hot, I wanted to be friends first, and if we ever got to that, it would be more special for both of us. She cried her eyes out; happy tears, she assured me, because I wanted to be her friend first. None of her previous boyfriends wanted anything but bragging rights for nailing the hottest cheerleader in school. I really think that she loved me a bit.

Her forced rejection of me, even though it was her parents' doing, depressed me seriously. I felt like there was no-one, except for Mom, that I could talk to, at least until Dad and Danny came in from morning chores. I felt alone, since Mom was busy in the kitchen, and I had no desire to help her, or to sit in the kitchen talking while she worked. It just seemed too girly.

Frustrated beyond belief, and about to cry like a little girl, I bundled up in ill-fitting winter clothes and stomped out to the shop to ensure I didn't make an emotional scene in front of Mom. I had an ulterior motive; the cast was driving me crazy, and I was certain, from how my ribs and other body parts felt, that my arm had undergone the same healing. I _needed _ to get the cast off; I'd take my chances with a partially-healed arm if I could get relief from the torment of the itching. A warm breeze wafted over me from inside the heated shop, refreshing me from the brisk wind and subzero temperatures.

Nobody was in the shop at the time, so I wandered over to the last bay and looked longingly at my project car, my grandpa's 1957 Chevy two-door station wagon. It wasn't the cherished Nomad version, but the lesser-known Model 150. It still rocked. I had a Muncie four-speed transmission in parts, and a high-performance small-block engine, also in parts, so I could restore and hop-up the car. When I was six, Grandpa had given it to me when he could no longer drive, because he knew that I'd been doing mechanical things like disassembling and reassembling Dad's mower, appliances, leaf blower, and even Mom's grandfather clock. It was a lot of fun to work with machinery of all types, and soon, Dad had me working on tractors and other farm machinery with him, both on the farm and in the store. Last year, he'd put me in charge of overhauling two of the big rigs. I earned a little, learned a lot, and had a ball. What really bothered me was that I didn't know when, or if, I'd get a chance to work on the car again, and that depressed me. I'd intended to fix it up as a tribute to my late grandfather. I sat down in a chair, sitting still and just looking at the car, watching, in my mind's eye, my dream of a souped-up car fading.

After a while, the itching under my cast was too annoying to ignore. I grabbed a long, thin screwdriver and slid it under the cast to scratch, which was easy because I'd lost muscles from when the cast was originally put on. It gave me a little relief, but no sooner was the screwdriver removed than the itch came back with a vengeance. I shook my head in frustration, and then walked to the long, three-bay-wide tool bench. Just about anything necessary for working on cars, trucks, or tractors was there, as well as tools for household work, so it wasn't difficult to find tin snips and a nipper. Awkwardly, since it was my right arm in the cast and I was inconveniently right-handed, I carefully slid the tip of the tin snips under the cast, and then tried to squeeze the handles together with my one good hand. It worked, but barely, and I got a slice into the plaster and bandage sheath wrapping my arm. I repeated the action - slide, squeeze - until I couldn't get the tin snips any further into the cast. I started over, a couple of inches away from the first cut, until I had two parallel cuts. Then I took the nippers and began to nibble away at the plaster between the two slits. Once that was done, I picked up the tin snips and repeated the whole process. It was slow; I'd already spent nearly a half-hour cutting a couple of inches into the cast. At this rate, I'd be done sometime around midnight - tomorrow. I had a bunch of power tools, but there was no way I was going to use them on myself because I hated pain and blood, especially when it was mine.

Then I had an inspiration. The Dremel tool had a saw blade, and if I slid in a metal back shield, then I could cut easily through the plaster cast without cutting into my arm. It had to be easier than what I was doing. A few minutes to prepare the Dremel, and then to find a piece of eighth-inch steel about an inch and a half wide, and I was ready. The flat steel slid in, and then I turned on the Dremel. It didn't work well left-handed, but I wasn't going to be stymied. I put the Dremel into the shop vise, turned it on, and then guided my arm against the saw blade rather than doing it the other way. Progress was swift; again, I cut out two slits and then notched out the gap. This time, though, I could get two and a half to three inches each time I went through the process, since I could slit most of the way across and then easily snap the piece of plaster out. In another fifteen minutes, the cast was off. I move my arm experimentally, and was happy to find that there was no pain, and I seemed to have my full range of motion and the same strength as my left arm.

I went back inside, feeling a little better physically, even if emotionally I still felt like crap. Mom looked up from the stove, and she dropped the ladle she was holding as her eyes nearly bugged out. "Brandon, what did you do?"

"My cast was itching too much, so I cut it off."

"But ... you can't do that! Doctor Robinson said you'd have the cast on for several _weeks_!" Mom protested.

I shrugged, flexing my arm and causing her to nearly faint. "My ribs were healed in a little over a day, so I figured my arm would be, too."

"Do you know what kind of chance you were taking, even if you are healing faster?" Mom was apoplectic.

I just shrugged. "It's better than going crazy from the itching."

"Well," Mom finally conceded from how I was moving that it must have healed, "you be careful with that arm. If it starts to hurt again, I'll have to take you back to Doc Robinson, and _you_ can explain why your cast is off!"

"Sure," I answered. I sprawled out on the sofa to watch Gettysburg, an excellent film about the epic Civil War battle. It was a good movie, and long enough to keep me distracted from my other problems. The movie was so long that I didn't finish it by dinner time, so I paused it and went to eat with my family, the only ones in the world, I imagined, who weren't running in terror from me, or trying to kill me.

After dinner, Dad, Danny, and I watched the rest of the movie. It was distracting, but I noticed Dad and Danny looking at me with a curious expression from time to time, and our usual movie banter was subdued or missing. They were as worried about my mutation as I was, and didn't know what to say for fear of upsetting me. I know they meant well, but it didn't help my mood. Finally, before the movie was over, I went upstairs to get ready for bed. I was still tired, but I couldn't stand sitting around in the awkward silence and tap-dancing around my mutation.

I sat beside the fire, on a log, next to the gorgeous medicine woman. She was mixing up the 'tea' that she'd been giving me, and chanting in her language, which I didn't understand, so I sat silently and watched her, drinking in the sights, sounds, and smells of where we were. The tepee circle was part ways up a hill, overlooking a valley with a river running through it. Trees lined the river, marking its path clearly through the prairie. Under the full moon, I could see for miles, even though it was dim. Off in the distance, I heard something howl. Was that a wolf? I thought so, although it might have been a coyote. I couldn't tell, since I wasn't any kind of an animal expert, at least not wild animals. I was pretty good with farm animals, but that did little good out here.

The woman stood up and reached down, taking my arms and pulling me to my feet. She backed away a step, and then looked up and down my body, a smile growing on her face as she did so. "Wihakayda," she said with a pleasant smile.

I looked down, and felt only a mild bit of concern, even though I knew, mentally, that what I saw should have left me screaming and having a panic attack. I was wearing buckskin, but it wasn't a shirt and pants. Instead, it was a dress, much like the woman wore. In front of the dress, on my chest, I could see moderately-sized breasts, and as I looked down, moderately-long braids danced into my peripheral vision. I could see that my waist was smaller, and my stomach was flat instead of having six-pack abs. My hips were wider than my waist. Lower than that, I wore small moccasins, which exactly matched what the woman wore. Curious, I lifted my hand in front of my face, and in the orange glow of the fire, I could see that my hand was delicate and fine, feminine instead of masculine, just like the woman's.

I looked up at the woman. "What's happening to me?" I asked, surprising myself by not making an angry demand. Was there something in the tea she gave me that made me calm? "You're turning me into you!"

"Wihakayda," the woman said again, pointing to me. She then pointed to both of us and said, "Ptesanwi."

"Yes, I know you think I'm Wihakayda," I said in frustration, "and for some reason, you think that we're Petsenwi or something." I shook my head. "I'm not! I'm just Brandon Franks, a normal guy."

I heard something moving toward the fire, and I spun to see what was coming my way. I was relieved to see that it was the white buffalo. "Tell her that I'm not Wikayda, or whatever she calls me!"

The buffalo smiled. "You _look_ like Wihakayda and you sound like Wihakayda, so you must _be_ Wihakayda."

"But ... Wihakayda is a girl, and I don't want to be a girl!"

"You don't have a choice," the buffalo answered. "The, what do you say, mutation? Your mutation is turning you into this, and you are destined to be Wihakayda, and join Wakan Tanka to be Ptesanwi." Then the buffalo did something completely unexpected. In a deep, gravelly voice, he added, "It is your destiny."

It took me a few seconds to regain my composure after the buffalo spoke in a very authentic Darth Vader voice. "Is she giving me something in the tea that makes me a girl?"

"No. The medicine she gives you is to keep you calm and help you heal, so you don't harm yourself while you become Wihakayda."

"Like Prozac?"

"I don't know what Prozac is," the buffalo answered with a confused expression. He turned to the medicine woman and spoke to her, probably telling her what I'd said. She laughed heartily with the buffalo.

The buffalo turned back to me after the woman spoke more. "You are an avatar, a host for a spirit. You are imprinted with the form that matches the spirits you will carry."

I frowned. "So, I'm going to end up looking like her, because you two think that I'm going to carry her spirit?" I shook my head. "You have to stop this, because I don't _want_ to carry her spirit!"

"You are an avatar. You have no choice. You don't select the spirits you carry; the spirits select you."

"Why me?" I whined. "I wasn't even a girl!"

"You are of the People. Wakan Tanka can't join someone who is not of the People."

Great. My grandmother had given me enough genes to condemn me to carry a Native American spirit, and that spirit was changing me into a girl. As if my life hadn't been complicated enough....

**********

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

The morning's ablutions revealed that I'd lost more muscle, leaving my arm and legs thinner, and my chest smaller in circumference. By now, I was certain that with my height loss, my entire body was getting smaller. I guessed that I'd lost another inch, and the scale said seven more pounds were also gone. My skin looked softer, with not even the slightest hint of facial hair, but it was also a little darker. My hair was about two and a half inches longer, and very brunette at the roots. The little bumps on my chest were a little bigger. And then I found the worst news - my little Brandon probably hadn't been this small since I was in diapers, and his two buddies seemed to be no bigger than raisins. What was worse, though, was that it looked like there were folds of skin appearing beneath 'little Brandon'. I was certain, from the dream, what was happening to me, and while I hated the thought, there was nothing I could do about it. I was mutating into a girl, and if my dream was to be believed, I would end up looking like Wakan Tanka. That would explain the nearly constant internal discomfort I'd felt; the first day or so, I'd figured it was indigestion. After that, I was getting the feeling that it was because my internal organs were being rearranged. I knew that I should have been panicking, or distraught, but strangely, I didn't feel anything but resignation.

Mom must have heard me stirring, so she came up and set a tray on my lap, and I inhaled the delightful aromas that emanated from the plate. I could get used to breakfast in bed, but if the cost was what I feared, it wasn't worth it - not that I had a choice. I shoved a piece of bacon in my mouth, savoring its flavors, knowing that Dad and I had cured the bacon ourselves, as we had with the hams, too. A spoonful of eggs followed - somehow, Mom got flavors out of eggs that no-one else could, probably not even master chefs - and then a bit of toast. The chokecherry jelly was amazing, and breakfast like this made me feel all warm and cared-for and safe.

To keep myself from getting bored, and thus depressed, I decided to crack open my math book and study. Yes, math book. More specifically, college-level Abstract Algebra. My older cousin Larry, who was seven years older than me, was a grad student in Math at the South Dakota School of Mines. Knowing my love of math and seemingly instinctive skills in the subject, he sent me his old books or books from his roommates and friends. By the time I finished fifth grade, I was done with Algebra and learning Trigonometry on my own. I taught myself calculus by the end of my seventh-grade year, and differential equations by the time I started as a freshman. Now I was working on more advanced classes - pretty much whatever Larry had taken and no longer needed the books for. High school math was boring, but the school had long since decided to let me do independent study in whatever math subject I wanted to learn. Math had always been extremely easy and intuitive for me; it seemed natural, and I loved it. Besides, it was fun pointing out where the book or the teacher was wrong. So sue me - I'm a nerd, with an IQ measured a ways north of 180, but I'm an undercover nerd. Being the class brain in small-town South Dakota is a good way to completely ruin one's social life. The one person I could be open with was Julie; I spent time a lot of time helping her, between kissing sessions, that is.

After a couple of hours of self-study, I decided to stretch my legs. I felt a lot better than I had earlier in the day, and all external evidence of my beating was pretty much gone. I made a trip to the bathroom, and then pulled on my sweats, wincing at how poorly they fit me now. Sighing at what was happening to me, and over which I had no control, I trudged down the steps to the living room. No sooner had I sat on the couch than my phone beeped.

~Daddy will kill me if he finds out, but I still want to be your friend and talk and text if we can. ~

A smile creased my lips, the first one in days. ~I'd like that~

~Gotta run. Bye~

~Erase your text messages so you don't get in trouble~

~Thanks for the tip~

I felt a little relieved from the text conversation, even if was only a few short messages. At least Julie wasn't treating me like I had the plague, even if she had to do it on the sly. Having one friend was better than having none, although my current status as a mutant turning into a girl made it unlikely that I'd have any chance to enjoy make-out sessions with her again.

I ate some lunch, and then, to keep from getting cabin fever, decided to walk out to the shop. I couldn't help but wonder what else I'd lost or couldn't do any longer, and was afraid of not being able to do some of the things I'd done before my ongoing mutation. I had to get back to normal, routine things, things that I loved, or I was going to go crazy questioning what I could and couldn't do.

I sighed heavily, and then forced myself to start working on the transmission. I should have been excited at starting to reassemble it after the gasket and bearing kit came, but I just couldn't get myself into the mood required for the task. I don't know if it was anxiety due to the changes my mutation was bringing, or fear that, in a short time, I'd be much weaker, and unable to do later activities associated with the engine and transmission rebuild. Could I continue and finish this project? It wasn't that I didn't know what I was doing; even after I'd changed some, I still looked at the transmission parts and just intuitively _knew_ how they all went together, even without having to look at a shop manual. I'd always had that kind of insight, but it seemed much sharper now. I could visualize the mechanical workings, and even understand the stress points in the mechanisms. I started assembling the gears, bearings, and sliders onto the tailshaft. It was precise work, but not physically demanding. That would come later when I had to mate the transmission to the engine.

I was trying valiantly to face my fear that, now that I was pretty certain I was turning into a girl, I wasn't going to be able to continue the project. I wasn't raised with the thought of mechanics being men's work; and it wasn't that some jobs I'd done working on the trucks required significant muscle that apparently I was losing; I could make up for that with lifts and hoists. The depressing thought was that even if I finished the car, I wouldn't dare drive it anywhere for fear of my former friends and neighbors.

After fiddling around for a couple of hours and completing assembly of the tailshaft and the input shaft, including pressing some bearings into place on the arbor press, I called it a day and went back inside. Mom fussed at me for getting a little grease on my sweats, but since I tried to keep all the parts spotlessly clean, the grease smudge wasn't bigger than a dime. She must have felt that it was her job, as a mother, to fuss at us about any dirt, no matter how insignificant.

I wasn't listening to her, because something suddenly occurred to me. While I was working on the transmission, the larger parts, like the tailshaft, seemed lighter than they should have, even though I'd lost a lot of muscle mass. Was that another weird effect of my mutation?

After dinner, I went upstairs and lay on my bed, suddenly feeling tired again, and promptly fell asleep.

The woman sitting by the fire spoke a few words that I understood. She pointed to the white buffalo and said 'Tatanka'. I'd heard that - it's the Lakota word for buffalo, I remembered. Then she pointed at me and said 'Wihakayda'.

I frowned, but she just smiled. Then I looked down, and saw that I was wearing a girl's buckskin dress again, with a girl's moccasins, and my hair was draped over my shoulder in a long braided pony-tail.

She pointed at me again and said 'Wihakayda'. She hugged me, surprising me, and holding us together, said 'Ptesanwi', while pointing and touching both of us. I wondered what she meant by that - was I Wihakayda to her, and did she think we were Ptesanwi together? It wasn't exactly a comforting thought. She took me out of the village to a hill, and we sat down, just watching the world around us. I felt curiously alive in the outdoors, surrounded by the living world. My senses seemed sharper, more attuned to natural sounds and sights.

**********

Thursday, February 22, 2007

I woke up in a cold sweat. If the dream meant anything, then I was in trouble. I stumbled to the bathroom, and after peeing, during which time I found my little friend was much smaller, I examined myself more closely. Little Brandon was tiny, and his pair of friends had all but disappeared. Beneath and around what was left of my penis, folds of skin were forming. I dreaded to explore them, because I now _knew_ that eventually, I'd have all girl parts. My breasts, for they couldn't be called anything _but_ breasts, were quite a bit larger than they had been the day before, at least from my perspective. I still felt the pressure and discomfort internally, which could mean only one thing - I was developing the internal organs to match what my external sexual characteristics were becoming. In short, I was becoming a girl, inside and out. I looked in the mirror again. The roots of my hair were definitely darker, nearly black, and the strands were longer - hanging a bit past my shoulders. It looked a bit odd, from very dark at the roots to my normal light brown at the tips. My eyes were almost almond-shaped common to Native Americans, with their strange green color. At that point, I did what any other red-blooded American boy would do. I screamed.

Mom dashed back up the stairs, and again stood in the doorway, staring at me. "You've ... you've changed some more," she stammered. She was gawking at my genitals, and, given my state of mind, I didn't really give a damn. "I think this pretty much confirms that you're turning into a girl, and from the looks of it, you're showing a lot more of our Lakota heritage."

I wasn't feeling particularly happy about what had transpired over the past day and a half, so my reply to my mother was less than respectful. "No shit?"

"Brandon!" she chided, causing my cheeks to flush at how I'd spoken in front of her. Even though I could swear up a storm in front of my friends, around family, I was always very courteous and _never_ swore. Not even a damn. Mom sighed. "You said that last time you checked, you'd lost height and weight? Let's measure you again."

I stepped on the scale. Five days ago, I was a buff one hundred sixty-five pounds of athletic muscle. Now, I was one-thirty-five at most, and my muscles were fading fast. I knew the profile my belly, arms, and legs were taking; I'd seen pictures of nude girls many times, a lot more than Mom or Dad knew. That thought made me nearly faint - again. Mom measured my height. I'd shrunk from five foot nine to five foot seven, a loss of two inches.

Mom sighed. "You're definitely developing breasts. Your genitalia look more like a girl's than a boys. Your body overall has a much more feminine appearance than a masculine one, especially since your hair is getting longer. The short answer is, yeah, you're becoming a girl - and from what I see, a rather attractive Native American girl at that."

"How do we fix it? I don't want to be a girl!" I was crying, which was completely out of character for me.

Mom corralled me into a big hug and held me tight, letting me cry like a little baby. After a bit, I was exhausted from my emotional outburst, and I let Mom guide me back to bed. She tucked me in, something she hadn't done in years, and that made me feel like everything was going to be okay - somehow.

After a short nap, I decided that I really needed Mom's company. "Mom? I've had a couple of weird dreams." I called out to Mom as I got downstairs. "In one of them, I was ... a Lakota girl - like I am now. And I think that, except for the green eyes, I look like the woman I keep seeing in my dreams."

Mom's eyes widened. "Interesting." She thought for a moment. "Maybe we should get your Grandma Little Doe on the phone. She was always good at interpreting dreams."

"Am I going crazy because of this?" I dreaded her answer, but I _had_ to ask.

Mom kissed me on the forehead. "I don't think so, sweetie," she said. She hadn't called me sweetie in a very long time, either. It was both reassuring and foreboding.

After we had some breakfast, Mom and I called Grandma Little Doe. She was proud of her heritage, and was an accomplished dream guide. From what she'd told me, she was the closest thing to a shaman in her tribe without actually being one. As a dream-guide, she didn't actually interact with a person through their dreams like the true dream-walkers did, but helped people gain an understanding of the dreams.

After Mom and Grandma exchanged pleasantries, Mom handed me the phone. "Hi, Grandma," I said nervously.

"Your mother says that you are changing, and having dreams."

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm changing into a girl, and Mom thinks I'll end up a Lakota girl."

Grandma laughed. "If you have to change into a girl, you couldn't have picked better than Lakota."

I snorted derisively at that notion, and then hoped that Grandma wasn't going to take offense. "Every night since my mutation, I've had dreams that I don't understand."

"Tell me." It was less a request than a command; when Grandma Little Doe asked for something to be done, she expected results immediately.

"I keep dreaming of being in the outdoors, like in a mountain meadow, or sitting by a stream or atop a mountain. Sometimes, I'm moving through the forests, and sometimes I'm just sitting in a tepee village. I always see a white buffalo, who speaks to me."

I heard Grandma gasp at that. "The white buffalo is very sacred to the People." She spoke the word 'People' in a slightly odd, heavily emphasized way, indicating that, to her, the People were the Native Americans, and more specifically, Lakota. "The coming of the white buffalo is a sign of the return of the White Buffalo Calf Woman to the People."

"And there was a woman with me. She was young, and very pretty."

"One of the People?" Grandma asked. To her thinking, if you weren't Lakota, you weren't one of the People.

"Yes. And ...," I hesitated, because it was embarrassing, "in the last dream, I was a girl - the girl I'm turning into."

"Did the woman speak to you?" she asked

"She said only three words I understood. She pointed at the white buffalo and said Tatanka, which I remember means buffalo. She kept calling me Wihakayda and pointing at me, like she thought it was my name. And then she held me and pointed to both of us and said Ptesanwi." Grandma's gasp was audible, before I heard her phone clatter to the floor.

"Grandma?" I asked urgently. "Are you okay? Grandma?" I hoped she hadn't fallen and injured herself or something like that.

"I'm okay, child," she answered when she picked up the phone, but she sounded rattled.

"What does it mean?"

"Ptesanwi means 'white buffalo calf woman'. It is a name of a very sacred woman who saved the People and brought prosperity and happiness. It is sometimes said that she and the buffalo spirit are one."

"You never told me about the white buffalo calf woman," I told Grandma.

She laughed. "You must have been too young to remember. Ask your mother; she knows that I once told you the legends of Ptesanwi."

"Can ... can you please tell me the story again?"

Grandma sighed. "Long ago, the People had forgotten how to communicate with the Creator, so he sent the White Buffalo Calf Woman, Ptesanwi, with a sacred bundle to teach us how to pray with the sacred pipe. She gave the People seven sacred ceremonies to ensure peace and harmony. When she left, she told the People that there were four ages, and at the end of every age, she would look back upon the People, and would return at the end of the fourth age to restore harmony and spirituality to a troubled land. She walked away, sat down, and rose as a black buffalo. A little further, she lay down and arose as a yellow buffalo. Then she lay down and rose as a red buffalo. A final time, she lay and rose as a white buffalo calf, to signal the end of the ages and her return."

The story did sound a little familiar; Grandma must have told me more than once, but I just didn't remember the details. "And the four colors of the buffalo?"

"The colors of the buffalo represent the four colors of man - white, yellow, red, and black. These colors also represent the four directions of north, east, south, and west."

I felt a chill. "What did she mean when she called me Wihakayda? What is that?"

Grandma chuckled. "She calls you 'little one'."

"In the dreams, she gave me a drink from herbs and stuff, and after she chanted a bit, she had me drink."

"How did you feel after you woke up?"

"I felt much calmer than I expected. What does it all mean?" I was full of questions about the dream.

"Patience, young child," Grandma said, and I knew she was smiling at my intense curiosity. "Did the woman have a name?"

"She calls herself 'Wakan Tanka," I replied.

There was another very long pause. "Wakan Tanka means 'keeper of great magic', the 'Great Spirit'. Sometimes, when the white buffalo calf woman appears among the People, she calls herself that." She paused, taking a deep breath, and I could practically hear the gears turning in her mind. "Since she visited you in several dreams, I think she is with you."

"What do you mean, with me? Am I ... possessed or something?"

Again, the smile heard over the phone. "No, Wihakayda. It means that you and she touch, which makes you very, very special. Together, you are Ptesanwi. The white Tatanka probably also touches you, since he is the companion to Ptesanwi."

The tingling coursing up and down my spine intensified. Did Grandma Little Doe believe that I was the embodiment of the return of the white buffalo calf woman to fulfill an ancient prophecy? "That's just fu ... flipping great! Not only do I become a mutant _and_ changing into a girl, but I got the crap beat out of me, and now I'm possessed by some medicine woman's spirit! I don't feel very special at all."

"Nevertheless, you are special."

"And why aren't I freaking out? I should be freaking out that I'm turning into a girl, shouldn't I?"

"Were you calm after your dreams?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess, after she gave me the drink."

"Wakan Tanka prepared you medicine to help you heal, in body and mind."

"That was just a dream. And is she drugging me so I don't freak out?"

"As it is in the dream world, so can it be in this world." Grandma paused again. "Did she tell you what was in the drink?"

"She mentioned some herbs and stuff. She told me to gather my own supply of medicine plants, and told me how to make the drink, but I don't think I can get everything she said."

"Do you remember?"

I nodded automatically, even though Grandma couldn't see me. "I remember the list. For some reason, it seems easier to remember things now."

"E-mail it to me. I probably have most, if not all, of what you need." With that, I handed the phone back to Mom, who was happy to spend time talking with her mother.

After quickly e-mailing the list of herbs and plants to Grandma, I went back upstairs to work on math, but I had barely opened my book when my cell phone beeped.

~Do you know what's happening to you?~ Julie texted me. Bless her for trying to stay in contact and give me some sense of normalcy.

~I'm changing~

~How?~

~It's embarrassing~

~You can trust me~

I hesitated a long time. Did I really want it to get out that I was turning into a girl? ~Mom and I are pretty sure that I'm turning into a Native American girl~

There was a long silence; I'm sure she was either screaming or laughing.

~Seriously?~

I sighed, and then took a selfie, which I attached to a message. ~See for yourself~

~Wow! You're gorgeous! That's some change~

~Tell me about it. I'm kind of freaked about it~

~Except for the green eyes, you could pass as a baseline, though. A pretty baseline~

~After I get used to dresses and underwear and hair and makeup? Bleh~

~LOL. We girls adjust. Is there a cure for it?~

~No. It's permanent~

~At least it's nothing gross like a slime monster~

~Some consolation. I don't want to be a girl~

~I know. I'll help you any way I can. Even if you're not my boyfriend, you're still my best friend~

I got choked up on that message. For her to say that meant everything to a kid who thought he'd lost every friend he had. ~Thx. That means a lot to me~

~And I won't be jealous that you're cuter than me - LOL~

~Gee, thanks.~

~Gotta go. Mom's coming. Bye~

Okay, I admit that at this point, whatever Wakan Tanka had given me the night before must have worn off, because I started screaming to high heaven, throwing things in my room, and bawling face-down on the bed about how unfair life was, and how I hated turning into a girl. After a good cry, I fell asleep again.

Wakan Tanka said nothing, pointing instead to Tatanka, the white buffalo. The buffalo nuzzled me affectionately, licking my hand like a little puppy, and I could feel its contentment. "We are one spirit, Wihakayda," he said.

Whoa - a white buffalo acting like a puppy? As if this all wasn't weird enough.

"As are you and Wakan Tanka."

Wait a sec - I've got two freeloading passengers in my head now? A white buffalo and a medicine woman spirit that can't speak English? "Why do you keep calling me Wihakayda?" I asked the buffalo.

"Because you are Wihakayda. I am the white Tatanka, and you will be joined with my spirit. Together, you and Wakan Tanka are Ptesanwi."

I glanced at the medicine woman, and she nodded.

"Wihakayda," she confirmed, pointing to me, and the, pointing to both of us, she said "Ptesanwi." It was the one recurrent theme of my dreams - that somehow, this dream woman thought that she and I together were some white buffalo calf woman, Ptesanwi.

**********

I awoke to the sound of the kitchen door slamming. Dad was home, and from the way he entered the house, he wasn't in a good mood. I wasn't sure it was a good time to spring _my_ surprise on him after whatever had happened. Instead, I pulled on a pair of baggy sweats and crept downstairs, staying in the living room where I could hear the discussion.

"Intolerant bastards!" I heard Dad cuss. For him to be swearing, it must have been extreme. "Someone threw a brick through the front window."

"Vandalism?" Mom asked hopefully.

"Nope. They were brazen enough to put the Humanity First logo on the brick, just to make sure I got the message."

"What are you going to do?"

"I notified the sheriff, but you know RL. He's as anti-mutant as anyone, and he won't investigate much before he drops it."

"Well, we had some surprises around here, too."

"Oh? Good surprises?"

"Depends on how you interpret it. You've either been in the fields or at the dealership, so you haven't seen Brandon the past couple of days. He's probably almost finished changing."

Dad sighed so heavily that I could hear it in the living room. "Into what?" He knew the score with mutants, and he knew that I'd change into something.

"Into a Lakota girl," Mom said. I'm sure she was looking at Dad without batting an eye.

Dad sighed again. "Are you sure?" I think he was relieved that I at least looked human. We all knew that some mutants were quite strange in appearance. Gross Structural Dystrophy, I think they called it. At least I didn't have that, or so it seemed.

I strode quickly into the kitchen. "I'm sure." It was going to take some time to get used to the new sound that echoed in my ears whenever I spoke. Well, that and the female plumbing. And my breasts. And female underwear. And new requirements for hair care. And dresses and ... shudder ... bikinis. I guess I had to get used to an entirely different life. That thought was suddenly depressing.

Dad's jaw dropped as he looked at me. "Completely?"

I just nodded, feeling my cheeks burn again, although, with my darker complexion, the degree of embarrassment wasn't quite as obvious as it would have been only a few days earlier.

"Okay," Dad said cautiously, drawing out the word into a complete sentence, "now what?"

"I don't know," I said, feeling helpless.

Danny continued to gawk at me, wide-eyed. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed softly.

"Maybe we should eat first," Mom suggested. "Then we can think about what we're going to do." She paused and pointed at the counter, which had a lot of small bags of herbs on it. "Grandma Little Doe stopped by. It turns out that she had everything you said you need. Given how upset you are about the changes, maybe you should make some of that tea to have with dinner?"

I sighed, and then nodded. While she set the table and finished cooking, I heated some water in the microwave, and then followed the instructions I'd gotten from the medicine spirit woman. I had to admit that when I took a few sips of tea, I felt much calmer.

At dinner, Danny kept gawking at me like I was an alien. Or worse. I'd seen him stare like that at Heather Newbury, who was one of the hot cheerleaders. The only thing he wasn't doing was drooling on the table at the sight of me, barely. "What are you looking at, runt?" I said angrily.

Danny reacted like I'd stung him. "I, uh, er ...."

Mom put her hand on my arm in a reassuring way. "Honey, maybe you shouldn't call him runt anymore. He's as tall as you are now."

I wanted to cry.

**********

I was sitting on a rock, overlooking a rugged, mountainous valley with numerous bare rocky pillars thrusting toward the crystal blue sky. I recognized the place from a vacation our family had taken years ago - the Needles in the Black Hills. The breeze was cool, and smelled of pine. It was peaceful to sit here; I don't know how long I was alone.

"Greetings, Wihakayda," a familiar voice came from behind me.

I turned, startled, and saw the white buffalo Tatanka moving with a deceptive grace across the meadow toward my perch, with Wakan Tanka walking silently beside him.

"What do you want now?" I sounded a bit testier than I had wanted.

Wakan Tanka spoke to the buffalo in Lakota, which added to my frustration. I had a passenger in my head that I couldn't understand, and another which was so absurd as to be ludicrous. The buffalo listened, and then turned back toward me. "Why does our presence disturb you so?" he asked. "Moments ago, you were at peace, surrounded by the beauty of the earth and its creatures. You were feeling as one with creation. But now you are not."

"Wouldn't you be upset if this was happening to you?" I snapped at them.

Wakan Tanka didn't need to understand my words to read my sentiments. She just smiled and sat down beside me, with Tatanka lying on the other side. A few moments later, she handed me a cup made from a gourd, inside of which was the herbal drink she'd been giving me, at least that's what it smelled like. I took it and sipped it until it was gone.

"You need to restore yourself to peace," Tatanka admonished gently. "Feel the cool, refreshing breeze. Hear the sounds of the wind in the trees, and the calls of the birds. See the majesty of Paha Sapa stretched out before you. Be still, and learn what nature is trying to teach you.

I felt myself relaxing under his almost hypnotic voice. The vista was gorgeous, and it was a beautiful summer day. I could see a hawk circling over the valley below, gliding silently and majestically on the currents of air surrounding him.

After a long period of silence, Tatanka asked me, "What do you see, Wihakayda?"

Somehow, I had to break him of the habit of calling me Wihakayda. I drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I see the hawk circling, like it's looking for something."

"You see Ceda, the hawk-spirit. He makes you look at all around him, not just at him. How does he move? You need to see the rivers in the winds on which he soars, and by seeing the rivers, you will know where he will go."

"He is so ... graceful in flight."

"He doesn't flap about wildly," Tatanka explained. "Ceda flows with the rivers in the sky, not fighting them, but using them to his own ends. If he fought the rivers, he would fail. Why does Ceda circle as he does?"

"I ... I don't know."

"You need to see what he is seeing, the object of his focus."

"His prey?"

"Yes, Wihakayda. He has his focus on his prey, but not just his prey. He needs to see the rivers in the sky, to know how to use them to catch his prey. He needs to see what is around his intended prey, whether there is an easy escape for the prey to foil him, or not. He needs to see if there is danger if he were to swoop down."

"You're saying that he needs to see the big picture?" I asked.

Tatanka nodded. "You learn quickly, Wihakayda. Each animal spirit has something to teach you. With Ceda, it is to focus on your goal, but not to lose sight of all around you. It is to flow with your environment, using it to your advantage, rather than to fight it wildly, as you go about your tasks."

"Are you saying - that I shouldn't fight what's happening to me, but flow with it and use it to my advantage?"

Tatanka translated, and Wakan Tanka smiled. "You learn very quickly, Wihakayda," Tatanka replied to me.
"I ... I don't _want_ to learn quickly! I want my life - and my body -back!"

Neither of them replied to me, gazing instead at Ceda circling so majestically on the winds.

"Will I ... meet the animal spirits?" I asked after a few moments.

"Patience. Another time, Wihakayda, when you are ready. For now, it is enough to observe a spirit to see if there is something it can teach you. Only after you have observed it and understand _what_ it does will you be ready to meet it to learn how it accomplishes that which it does."

**********

Friday, February 24, 2007

I woke up late, since I had nothing to do, and for the first time, I didn't feel hot or sweaty. Hopefully, the burnout or changes or whatever were over. I did my morning ablutions, and then, for some reason, called Mom to come upstairs. If I had a female body, then I better start getting used to it. Maybe it was the herbal tea from my dream that was affecting me, but I was far from hysterical about the changes, even though I knew that I should be extremely agitated that I was becoming a girl.

As far as Mom and I could tell, my changes were mostly complete, or at least they seemed to be. I was five-foot seven, one hundred thirty pounds, and probably the most exotically gorgeous girl I'd ever seen, apart from the woman in my dreams. Strangely, I didn't look like the kind of beauties I used to see at school, like Julie, with their European features and my own European sensibilities about what made a woman beautiful. Instead, I was gorgeous in an exotic way because I was distinctly Lakota, and looked foreign and exotic, but still, with my eyes, approachable and compelling.

Mom confirmed with a quick but detailed inspection that I was now fully female, with no trace that I'd ever had a little friend or his two sidekicks. That meant that I had a vagina, which meant that I could be on the receiving end of sex! Emotionally, I knew _that_ was never going to happen, and I knew that at some point I'd be upset about the change in genitals and capabilities, but at that moment, it was another intellectual data point. Since I had no more internal pressure or distress, I assumed that my internal organs had finished rearranging as well, which meant that I had ovaries, fallopian tubes, a uterus, and a vagina. For once, having paid attention in biology was worth something.

I was humiliated that Mom checked me the way she did, but she reminded me that it could be worse, that it could be Doc Robinson examining me. I blushed, realizing that she was right. I had breasts - large B-cups, if the measurements meant anything. Fortunately, I was nearly Mom's size, so with a little adjusting of straps and using a different hook, she got me fit - sort of - into a bra and panties. Danny had chosen the better part of valor and stayed away from me, even though I knew he was curious about my mutation and change into a girl. I saw him peeking through the open door at me a couple of times, but he said nothing and ran away quickly. At least he hadn't seen me trying on Mom's underwear - I hoped

I started crying again, realizing that I'd lost damned near everything. All I had left was math. No football, no friends, except maybe Julie, no male body. It was bad enough living on a farm, because I was isolated from the other kids, especially in the winter, but during certain seasons, our family was isolated from one another, with field work and chores and such. Add to that the fact that I was turning into a girl, which made Dad and Danny avoid me when they weren't at school or working, and I was damned lonely. I never liked being socially alone; I'd had a horrible experience with it once many years ago. We'd moved when I was in grade school, and I was the 'new kid' for over a year, and had felt like a total outcast. It had taken a long time for me to feel like I fit in. Now I was cut off from my friends because I was a mutant. It was rather devastating, reminiscent of that awful year of feeling completely alone, and I collapsed on the bed for a good emotional venting.

After breakfast, I forced myself to go to the shop and work on the transmission. It wasn't fun, but it was distracting. By lunchtime, I'd nearly finished assembling the input and output shaft gears, and was getting ready to start putting pieces and sub-assemblies back into the transmission case. I sighed; I still could work on cars, at least so far. It wasn't as much fun as hanging with my friends had been, but it was rewarding, in a way. Maybe that was something I hadn't lost - yet. My cell phone beeped again.

~What are you doing?~

~Moping and feeling sorry for myself~

~Want to go to a movie or something to take your mind off things?~

I paused, wondering if she knew what she was asking. ~Uh, I'm not a guy anymore~

~Not like that! Just two friends~ I figured she was blushing.

~I'm not sure~

~Would it be better to see a movie, or sit around and pout?~

~Do you know what's playing?~

~There's Amazing Grace~

~Yuck! What about Ghost Rider?~

~Eew! I think a comedy called Music and Lyrics is still in the theater. Have you seen it?~

I didn't need that reminder. ~No. That's what I was going to take you to last Friday~

~Let's go then~

~Okay. Where should I meet you?~

~By the old honey factory. Half an hour?~

~K. See you in a bit~ I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something seemed odd in the text conversation, but I didn't want to dwell on it. I wanted a distraction from the changes that had so quickly overtaken and disrupted my life.

Well, it wasn't a date where we could kiss and snuggle, but it was something semi-normal, and it would take my mind off of my changes. But then I thought about something else - my distinctive eyes, and that would tip off everyone. Sunglasses? That would work I supposed. It wasn't dark until later this time of year anyway, so I could get away with it.

"Where are you going?" Mom demanded as I scampered through the kitchen. I hated to admit it, but I was wearing a pair of her jeans and one of her T-shirts, since none of my clothes fit me anymore.

"Julie and I are going to a movie. Music and Lyrics. It's a comedy."

She scowled. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said hesitantly. "You know what happened last Thursday."

"I'll hide my eyes behind sunglasses, and the rest of me looks like a normal girl," I said confidently. In retrospect, I should have listened to my mother, but I was a cocky teenager (okay, not so 'cocky' anymore!) and I needed something normal.

"Are you sure?"

"Mom, I'm going to go crazy if I just sit around here and think about things. This'll at least get my mind off my mutation and my changes." I had one problem; Mom's jeans didn't have a back pocket, and I needed someplace to put money and my drivers' license. For now, I figured, I could slip them into my front pocket. I shuddered to think that I might have to start carrying a purse - like a real girl.

I pulled up to the old honey factory on the edge of town. The street wasn't well-used, and there were a lot of trees, so it wouldn't be a big deal for Julie to hide her car there while we went to the movie. Besides, in a small town like this, nobody bothered with vandalism or such. People still left their keys in their car while getting mail or shopping, and a lot of folks didn't lock their doors at night. It was safe - or so I thought.

Something didn't quite feel right when I pulled up to the old factory. Call it a premonition or a sixth sense, but I had a really bad feeling. Julie was _never_ late. As I waited, I left my truck running out of habit, which was both good and bad. The diesel engine made a lot of noise, even idling, and it masked out other sounds. On the other hand, it would be quicker to start moving if there was trouble.

And trouble came. One minute, I was waiting for Julie, and the next, a car came racing into the parking lot, skidded in front of me, and stopped. I recognized Scott, who'd taken great delight in beating the crap out of me the week before. I shoved the truck into reverse as my finger reached for the door-lock button, just in time to see another car skid to a halt behind me, followed almost instantly by two more penning me in on either side, trapping me completely. Because of my slightly smaller size and different seat position, my reflexes and sense of position were off just enough that I missed the door lock button, and I was suddenly too busy to try again. I saw the rage on the faces of the guys and girls getting out of the vehicles, and I knew I was in deep shit. I had only one out - put the truck in low range and push the car from in front of me, then go off-road to get away from the goons. Before I could shift, though, my door was yanked open and I was pulled bodily from my truck. A fist slammed into my face - again.

"So this is Brandon, huh? Looks like a gene-freak queer if you ask me!" Jerry leered.

"Why don't you die and keep your kind out of our town?" I felt a rabbit-punch to my kidneys, which hurt like hell.

"For a gene freak, you have to admit Brandon is kind of cute, though," a girl named Shelly sneered. She was Scott's girlfriend, and shared his vile temper.

"According to Julie, she's a complete girl now!" one of the guys sneered. "And pretty damned good looking, too - for a mutant."

A couple of faces changed from rage to an unsettling leering, and I started to feel very nervous. Even as more slaps, scratches, and punches battered my body, I felt hands groping at me, on my chest and in my crotch. My jacket was ripped from by body, and rough hands pawed at my breasts, while other fists continued to beat on my already-battered body. Under the brutal physical assault, everything went mercifully dark.

**********

I opened my eyes, fighting pain as I did so, and saw Tatanka and Wakan Tanka standing over me, looking down, tears in their eyes.

Wakan Tanka held a small wooden bowl, and as I watched, she dipped her fingers in the bowl and painted some of the gooey reddish-brown concoction onto my forehead and cheeks. She dipped her fingers again and painted on my wrists, ignoring my whimpers of pain as she touched me. She continued, painting my legs, and then I could feel her wet fingers tracing some intricate design over my heart.

I tried to lift my head to see what she was doing, but I hurt too much. I could hear her chanting some more, and then she began to sprinkle my body with the liquid. As each droplet hit me, I felt a brief surge, like mild sparks of static electricity, and then a distinct soothing feeling radiated from each droplet like a wave from a stone in a pond, lessening the intense pain. As the ripples spread from all the droplets, pain was slowly being erased from my body. I lay back on the soft buffalo-hide blanket, letting my eyes drift shut.

**********

Friday, February 24, very late at night
the Doctor's Clinic

I slowly woke, hurting in nearly every inch of my body. My legs and left arm were in casts, and I felt like every rib had been broken. My head hurt like hell, too. I was lying in a bed in a room that seemed to be a hospital room, but I knew from past experience that it was Doc's clinic. An IV line snaked from a pouch held on a stand, down to the bedside, and up to my good arm, where a needle nestled beneath a bandage. I could only see out of one eye; I guessed that my other eye was bandaged. Even taking a breath caused excruciating pain in my ribs.

I heard voices at a distance; Dad's booming voice was unmistakable, and from his tone, he was beyond furious. Occasionally, I could hear Mom's voice, too, and Doc Robinson's. Mom must have glanced my way, or I had unknowingly moaned in pain when I woke up, because she was suddenly in my field of view. "Oh, honey!" she cried. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her eyes were red and puffy. "You scared us!"

Scared you? That was good - I'd been terrified when they started to batter me. "What ...?" I started to ask, but even a simple word caused pain because my whole face was sore.

"Shhh," Mom cooed. "Don't talk.

In the background, I heard Dad yelling at Doc Robertson. "What the hell do you mean, no evidence? What more evidence do you need? They beat her to within an inch of her life! If we hadn't been tipped off and followed, they _would_ have killed her. And then there's ...." He stopped abruptly when he glanced nervously at me and saw that I was awake.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have the kits. As to the assault, that's going to be a mutant's word against the kids who all attest that they were elsewhere."

"And I suppose my son just slashed the tires on his truck by himself? What for?"

"If you're not happy with the way things are going, perhaps you should call the MCO," Doc said, with more than a hint of smugness in his voice.

"I'm going to take my son and get out of this place! You're supposed to care for all people first, not act like an accomplice to brutal crimes!" From the tone, I suspected that Dad was about ready to flatten Doc's nose, and other body parts.

"She's in no shape to be moved," Doc protested strongly.

"Why? So you can leave the back door open, so they can come in and finish the job? Is that your game? Get rid of the evidence?" I'd never heard Dad so angry. "I'm taking Brandon with me, and if you try to stop me, I _will_ make you regret it. I can't trust you any more than we can trust the rest of the bigots in this town!" With that, Dad stomped noisily to me bedside, where he looked down at me. Without a word, he took off the bandage and eased the IV needle from my arm. Then, carefully, he picked me up. I could see him wince at my every gasp and moan of discomfort. Cradling me as gently as he could and trying to minimize any further pain, he walked toward the door.

"I can't be held medically responsible for any further damage she sustains," Doc Robinson protested, mostly in an effort to cover his own ass.

"Like you've been much help anyway," Dad sneered. "Except for showing your disdain for my son, despite your Hippocratic Oath, you fucking hypocrite!" Whoa! I'd _never_ heard Dad swear like that before. He was really pissed! He paused and looked over his shoulder. "And you can rest assured that I _will_ file a formal complaint with the state licensing board. And since my friend Senator Johnson chairs the subcommittee that oversees state regulations of medicine, it _will_ get some attention." He turned and stormed out of the clinic. I knew that Dad didn't make idle threats.

I remember little of the ride home, as the pain made me bounce in and out of consciousness with even the slightest bump in the road. When I was awake, I made a game out of trying to identify body parts that _didn't_ hurt. It was a very short list.

I don't remember getting home. Instead, I drifted into a dream again.

I was once again at the tepee circle, at the fire. "Why am I here again?" I asked.

Wakan Tanka just looked up at me from preparing her medicinal drink. "Rest," she said in accented English.

I was lying on my side, on a plush buffalo-skin blanket, and I was stunned. "You speak English!" I exclaimed, and as a reward for my outburst, I received another major spasm of pain coursing through my entire body.

"No. I taught her the word so she could tell you what you needed to do," Tatanka explained as he gazed sadly at me. If I looked half as bad as I felt, I must have looked awful.

She finished preparing the tonic for me, and then did her chanting, but this time, she gestured that I should follow her position. Painfully, I did so, and then she chanted her song-like incantation, pausing so I could try to follow along. As soon as I consumed the drink she'd prepared for me, Tatanka sat down beside me, nuzzled me a bit in his friendly way, and then he spoke. "You are in great danger, Wihakayda," he said.

I frowned; that was an understatement. "Why don't you help protect me if you're part of me?" I demanded angrily. I looked at the buffalo, which shook his head sadly, and when I glanced, Wakan Tanka was doing the same.

"You have not accepted us," Tatanka said, his voice sad. "Until you accept us a part of you, we cannot directly help you."

"Accept you? You're in my head, dammit! What more do you need?"

"We are only guests," Tatanka replied. "If you accept us, we will become part of you."

I frowned. "So this is some kind of Star Trek, Vulcan mind-meld thing? Or are you going to possess me or something like that?"

I glared at Wakan Tanka, who shook her head and smiled and looked at Tatanka. "We will be part of you. You will be part of us. It is symbiosis. We are here as guides, to give you our powers, and to give you advice and knowledge. Such is the way of the spirits. You are in control, not us."

I was puzzled. "How could you have helped me?"

Tatanka sighed. The image of a buffalo sighing is hard to believe, but he did. "Until you accept me, I cannot appear in the same world as you. If you had accepted me, you could have called upon me, and my physical form would have come to defend you."

I thought for a moment, and then I stared at Wakan Tanka. "And what about you? Where do you fit into this picture?"

Wakan Tanka puzzled for a moment, and then began to speak Lakota to me. I frowned; I understood nothing she was saying. However, Tatanka interceded. "She says that Ptesanwi will be part of you, and Wakan Tanka will speak to you and teach you. You will learn to use her magic. You will learn her gift of healing."

It sounded too good to be true. "What does this cost me? My soul?"

Tatanka laughed. "We are not demons. We ask no payment except that you help the People as much as you are able. This is a terrible time for the People, as you know."

I thought a moment, taking a deep breath and feeling the stabbing pain of several broken ribs. "What does it take for me to accept you?" I asked, more to gain further information than to invite them.

Tatanka translated for Wakan Tanka again, and Wakan Tanka replied in Lakota to Tatanka, who nodded. "All you need to do is ask."

It sounded so simple; I ask, and they become part of me to help me. If the night was any hint of what life would be like from now on, I'd need all the help I could get. "What would you have done to help me?" I asked, seeking more clarification, and perhaps stalling. I wasn't certain if inviting spirits to live rent-free in my head was a good idea

"Wakan Tanka will teach you magic, so you will be able to ghost-walk or to create a shield which would have prevented them from seeing your or even hitting you. She will also teach you to heal, both yourself and others, and many other spells known to Ptesanwi. And when you call, I can appear in your world, as large or small as you need. I can interact with living beings," he added. "A buffalo has a way of causing those who would do you harm to change their minds. If not simple fear, a horn in their side or a hoof on their chest should convince them. "

My eyes widened. "You mean, like you can manifest?"

Tatanka nodded. "My spirit shape can appear in the world if we join you. And you will learn to call other animal spirits to appear in your world."

I couldn't see a downside. If Wakan Tanka could teach me healing and other magic, and Tatanka could manifest to defend me, I might be in good shape. I certainly couldn't be in worse shape than I already was. "I ask you to join me, then."

Both of them beamed with joy. "You will not be sorry, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka spoke.

"You ... you speak English! You've been fooling with me!"

Wakan Tanka grinned. "No. I speak only Lakota. Now that we are joined, you understand the language of the People, Wihakayda. It is part of my magic and of being joined to Ptesanwi's spirit." She rubbed my cheeks soothingly and tenderly. "Speak with your grandmother Little Doe. You will speak and understand the language of the People, and you will surprise her greatly. It will be very amusing." She chuckled, knowing that it would be a good joke on my grandmother. I couldn't help but think that Wakan Tanka was perhaps a little bit of prankster.

For some reason, I felt peace descend over me, and I lay back on the buffalo robe which had appeared. As I drifted off, I wondered if I'd be able to control my dreams like Wakan Tanka did. "Wihakayda," I said to myself softly. "Wihakayda. That sounds nice."

**********

Friday, February 24, 2007

Black Hills, South Dakota - Homestake Paranormal Activity Research Center

Below the seven-thousand foot level of the former Homestake Gold Mine, a strange ripple of energy penetrated the magic wards and physical barriers, into a sealed-off tunnel. Behind the massive magic-reinforced alloy vault door, a shadowy, snake-like creature stirred from its enforced slumber. An eye laboriously opened, looking like something belonging to hell spawn. It seemed the effort that had nearly overwhelmed the creature. With a massive effort, its snake-like lips curled back into a sort-of sneer, revealing its spear-like teeth and razor-sharp fangs. "The fourth age has come."

The massive creature ponderously lurched its massive, scaled body, awkwardly thrusting its head toward the door, but the magic wards snapped at it like millions of volts of electricity, throwing it back to where it lay quietly, recovering from the jolt.

After a long pause to soak up the meager energies which penetrated this dungeon-like prison, the snake-being opened both eyes and concentrated. There were always options, it said to itself. "Awaken, my children," it said in the old language of the People, a tongue dating to antiquity that hadn't been spoken in the land for several millennia.

Elsewhere in the Black Hills

The members of the Paha Sapa Grotto spelunking club paused in a large chamber deep beneath the mountains. The flicker of head-mounted carbide lamps and battery-powered LED lanterns gave faint illumination to the cool, damp subterranean cavern. Four of the six cave-crawlers sat down on larger rocks, stretching after crawling through miles of dirty, cool tunnels and caves.

"Hey," the leader said as light from the reflector lamp danced across a strange formation twenty or thirty yards distant. "What does that look like to you?"

Another member of the club turned his lamp. "I don't know. Maybe like a coil of something?"

"Damned strange rock formation," another guy said. He lifted his lithe body, perfectly suited for caving, off his rock and strode cautiously through the rock debris on the floor of the cave. "It's ... it's like a huge snake coiled around something."

"That's nuts," the leader said. "But we ought to measure it and get some pictures." He walked to join is companion.

A sound like thunder reverberated through the cavern, stunning the cavers. They glanced around nervously. "What was that?" one asked.

"I dunno," another answered, his lamp bobbling around the cave walls as he sought the source of the sound. His lamplight went across the coiled formation, and then snapped back to what looked like a huge snake's head. The man's eyes widened in shock. "Guys!" he cried as he began to back away. "It's alive!" A scream died in his throat as the suddenly-living stone snapped forward, its huge, gaping mouth crushing his chest.

Near the chamber, the remaining two cavers were finishing making notes on the trail when they heard three loud screams ahead of them, and the brief sound of stones smashing together, and an unearthly splat of bodies squishing against the granite rocks. The dim glow which had been visible in the narrow opening to the large cavern went dark. One of the cavers started forward to the sound of the struggle, but the second was overcome with an overwhelming sense of fear radiating from the chamber, and he scrambled back toward the cave entrance, leaving his daypack and maps behind.

Behind him, among the shattered bodies, the snake-like living rock creature paused, lifting its head. "What do you need, my father?" it asked in response to the psychic cry it had heard, using the same ancient tongue that had resonated in the cavern of the underground prison.

**********

February 25, 2007

The Franks Family Farm

I woke up, sore and stiff, but feeling a lot better. I suspected, based on the pain, that by the end of the day, the casts on my legs and left arm would be of no value, and I could remove them. I looked around and saw Mom sitting in a chair, sleeping. "Mom?" I asked hesitantly.

She snapped awake from her vigil. "Yes, Brandon? Are you okay?"

I nodded. "How long have I been asleep?" I'd had no sense of time, but based on the first attack, I suspected that I'd been out for quite a while.

"It's late Sunday night," Mom said, caressing my cheek. "You've been unconscious for almost a day."

"Oh." I thought about that. "You tried to tell me it was stupid, didn't you?"

Mom didn't speak, but just nodded.

"I guess you were right." For a teenager to admit that his or her parents were right was a hard thing, possibly criminal in some circles, and the more extreme would probably say it was a sign of the impending apocalypse. The words nearly stuck in my throat. "I just wanted to do something that felt ... normal."

"And you missed your friends, right?"

I nodded. "It's hard ... not having anyone to talk to, or to do things with." I managed to control my tears so I wouldn't cry in front of Mom. The attack, proof that my friends were forever gone, was an almost overwhelmingly depressing thought. I decided to change the subject, "Wakan Tanka and Tatanka came to me in my dream again. She gave me her medicine and told me that it would help me heal."

"You look a lot better. Most of the bruises and cuts are gone already."

For some very strange reason, that was important to me. If I had to be a girl, then I wanted to at least look good. Gak! Where the _hell_ had that thought come from? But I'd been told that I was a cute girl, and I couldn't help smiling to myself. I was unexpectedly assailed with thoughts that I _knew_ mentally that I shouldn't care at all about what I looked like, but instead should be fighting to not give up my maleness, to not give in to being a girl that I didn't want to be. As the war of the sexes raged in my cranium, the memory of Julie telling me I was cute and that we could do girl things together struck me, and I started bawling.

"What?" Mom asked, rushing to my bed and carefully sitting down on the bedside.

"Julie ... set me up!" I cried. "I thought she wanted to be my friend, but she's just like the rest of them." I couldn't stop the water-works that my tear ducts had become, and I really didn't want to. I needed an emotional release. Mom started to say something, but she held her tongue as I cried and cursed my friends in general and Julie in particular. She just held my good hand, afraid to lean over and hug me because of my injuries, but letting me know that she was at my side and willing to help. I bawled for probably forty-five minutes until I felt exhausted emotionally. "Thanks for being here for me," I sobbed to Mom after my tears had ceased. "No-one else is."

"Your Dad is. Daniel hasn't abandoned you. And don't' forget Grandma Little Doe. Not everyone has abandoned or betrayed you."

I felt a bit ashamed of feeling so totally sorry for myself, because I did have some people around me who cared. "Yeah, I guess."

"No guessing about it. And though no-one has said anything, I bet some of your friends still care."

"Funny way of showing it," I snorted in disgust. "If they did care ..."

Mom shook her head. "A lot of people in town are afraid, and that's led to a mob mentality. It only takes one or two hotheads to whip a crowd into a frenzy. Those who would still accept you are most likely afraid of the angry group-think."

I thought some about what she'd said; I hadn't seen everyone in town in the mob that tried to kill me. As I thought about it, I realized that the mob consisted of the angry hot-heads, the types that seemed to react without thinking. Maybe she was right, but at that point, I really would have liked one or two of my friends to show even a tiny bit of support, which so far, they hadn't.

There was a hint of worry in her expression that puzzled me, like she was keeping something secret from me. She straightened and put a smile on her weary face. "Now, would you like some dinner?"

"I suppose. I'm kind of hungry."

"I'll get you something. The rest of us had supper a while ago, but I didn't want to wake you while you seemed to be healing."

After dinner, I fell asleep almost immediately. I kind of wanted to sleep, both because I was tired, and also so that I could be in dream-space with Wakan Tanka and Tatanka. They were always very comforting, and although I really hated to admit it, sometimes more-so than Mom or Dad. Maybe it was because they were now part of me.

**********

Monday, February 26, 2007

I was quite relaxed when I woke up; Tatanka and Wakan Tanka had spent dream-time with me just resting in Paha Sapa, just resting so I could recover. I suspected, and Wakan Tanka confirmed, that using my healing power left me physically drained, and would continue to do so until I was used to using magic like that. It was like lifting weights; I had to start out light and build up muscles until I could do heavyweight lifting, and if I overdid it, I'd strain something and not be able to do magic for a while.

I sighed, feeling pressure in my bladder, and yelled for Mom. With three casts, there was no way I could walk to the bathroom. What frustrated me most about my situation was how completely helpless I was. Mom had to take me to and from the bathroom, help me with simple tasks like brushing my teeth and hair, and help me dress. Clothing, however, was reasonably easy; I simply pulled on my old sweats, even if they were way too big and baggy. They fit comfortably over the casts.

At least when I looked in the mirror, there were no more change. I harbored a secret fear that whenever I healed, I was going to change more, to mutate into something new and different, or completely hideous. It was an irrational fear, I knew, but given all the other catastrophic things that had happened to me, I couldn't help imagining yet more bad news.

After I got back in my bed, Mom got me a couple of my books to read, and then asked about breakfast.

"That sounds good. But not as much as you usually make."

Mom grinned. "I didn't think so. You have to worry about your figure now, you know."

"Mom!" I protested, blushing. Again, I was torn. Brandon cringed that the thought of 'watching my figure', while Kayda was more annoyed by the teasing and knowing that Mom was right. I felt like I was schizophrenic.

"By the way dear, who's Wihakayda?"

"Huh?"

"You were repeating the word 'Wihakayda' over and over in your sleep."

"It was in my dreams, Mom," I muttered. "Wakan Tanka and Tatanka called me Wihakayda. I was a Lakota girl, and I looked exactly like Wakan Tanka! Like I do now. Both Wakan Tanka and Tatanka call me Wihakayda whenever they speak to me.

"That reminds me. There's one other thing that we have to eventually do," Mom said hesitantly.

"What?" I cringed at her expression and tone of voice, expecting something unpleasant.

Mom sighed. "You're going to have to face the fact that you're a girl now, and that we can't call you Brandon anymore, can we? You look like a girl, not a boy. Physically, you're a girl, completely."

I started to protest, but halted before I could even get out the first word. "I ... I guess," I said, my voice tinged with sadness at the prospect of losing yet another connection to my past life. It was going to take me a while to accept what I'd become, and I didn't want to get a new name, but Mom was right. I couldn't go by Brandon any longer.

"Brandy sounds nice," Mom suggested tentatively. "And it's close to Brandon."

I shook my head. It was _too_ close, and would always be a bitter reminder of what I had lost. Then I remembered my dreams. "Kayda," I said with more conviction than I'd felt before.

"What? Kayda?"

I nodded, feeling contentment flowing into me. Maybe that was the last part of accepting Wakan Tanka and Tatanka - that I accept a name that they'd given me. "Kayda is short for Wihakayda. It's what the Wakan Tanka and buffalo call me in my dreams. I think Kayda is ... nice."

"Kayda. Hmmm." She thought for a moment. "It's pretty. I like it. Kayda it is, then." She kissed me on the forehead, like she was christening me into my new name and new life.

"I know it'll take me a while to get used to it," I added, so Mom wouldn't think I'd suddenly flipped out, "like everything else that's changed that I have to get used to again." I knew that my parents and Danny would have trouble reconciling that I was no longer Brandon, but Kayda. "But that's what I guess I want." I wasn't certain if I was trying to convince her, or me.

**********

The morning passed in a sleepy haze, because I was too tired and too sore. Something was bothering me about some of my pain, but I couldn't put a finger on it. I knew that a lot of what had happened in the last attack was fuzzy; I'd passed out almost immediately, mercifully knocked unconscious, so I didn't remember the details of how I'd received my injuries. That was probably best, I figured - not knowing who had hit me or had broken what bones or inflicted what other injuries. Mom brought me lunch in bed.

Dad and Danny had taken some extra tires, already mounted on rims for convenience, and had gone to town to retrieve my truck while I stayed in bed resting. When they got back after lunch, Dad reported on my truck, just to reassure me. "I'm glad we have locking fuel caps," he reported with disgust. "All four tires are slashed on the sidewalls, so they're shot, and they keyed the paint all over. But it's still in good shape mechanically." At least there was something. I lay back, unhappy, but glad things hadn't been worse. I was alive, and my truck was drivable - not that I was going to get a chance to drive it soon because first, I no longer had a drivers' license that was valid after my change, and second, I feared what would happen to me if I was caught off our property. About mid-afternoon, when my legs and arm were itching too badly in the casts, I called out, "Mom!"

"What is it, dear?" Mom asked from the bottom of the stairs.

"Can you get something from the shop so I can cut off these danged casts? They're itchy, and I think my bones are completely healed again. I don't feel any pain from my legs or arm."

"I don't think you should ...," Mom started before she remembered how fast my arm had healed. "Are you sure? It took a couple of days for your arm to heal last time."

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's been long enough already, and Wakan Tanka told me that I heal much faster now that we're joined, and that I don't need the casts anymore. The itching is really driving me crazy."

"You're ... joined?" Mom gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. She probably thought that I'd gone off the deep end.

"I've been reading up on mutants on-line. From what I've read, I'm pretty sure I'm some kind of avatar," I explained, "and I host the spirits of Wakan Tanka and Tatanka. We're joined. She told me that I have their powers, even though I don't know how to use them yet."

"She ... told you? Just now?"

I smiled sheepishly. "I guess since we're joined, I can speak to them any time."

I could imagine the expression on Mom's face. "I don't' know if I like you having so-called spirits in your head," she said in a typical worried-mother tone. I could almost hear her sigh as she considered that she had a lot to learn about mutants. "Okay. I'll get your dad to help you. What kind of tools do you need?"

I had to laugh to myself. "Tin snips, side-cutters, a Dremel with a cutoff saw, and a piece of flat steel bar stock. Just not a circular saw!"

Mom laughed, and then I heard the door shut. Fifteen minutes later, Dad was back with Danny and an assortment of tools.

"How did you get the arm cast off?" Dad asked.

"Tin snips and a lot of patience. I used the nippers to cut chunks of it off, but then I switched to the Dremel and a flat backing bar, and cut it much faster," I answered.

I showed Dad and Danny how to use the snips on my left arm cast, and they started on my leg casts, while I used the Dremel and bar stock to make short work of the arm cast. Once that was done, Dad started to use the Dremel on my leg cast - the one that went all the way from ankle to the top of my thigh, while the other was only my lower leg. "Ouch!" I cried out.

Danny looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"You'll be sorry if you do that again!" I said angrily. "You're not the one who feels the pain or gets the cuts from your goofs!"

"Sheesh, such a grouch. I said I was sorry," Danny complained. He was a lot more careful, though, and by the time Dad got the full-length leg cast split with the Dremel, Danny had the lower-leg cast split. I felt the glorious sensation of cool air on my sweaty, hot, itchy skin.

"Mom," I cried out again.

"Yes dear?"

"Can you get some lotion? My skin is all irritated and itchy."

Dad scolded me playfully, "You can get it yourself now that you're mobile again, and your mom can get dinner ready for us at a reasonable hour."

It felt glorious to be free of my plaster prison and to walk to the bathroom, but the feeling of lotion soothing my red, irritated, soft, smooth legs was absolutely heavenly. Gak - did I just say that they were soft and smooth? Well, they were, and I was torn between loving the silky feeling, and hating the way they looked so girly. I sighed - it was something I was going to see for the rest of my life because I couldn't change it, so I better get used to it. And why were they so smooth and hairless? Girls grew hair on their legs. The only answer that made any sense is that either Doc had shaved my legs prior to putting on the casts, or my body-hair had a reset when I changed into Kayda.

Even though I felt healed, I was exhausted, probably from how much healing I'd had to do. Without needing to have a doctor tell me, I somehow knew that I'd very nearly died, and that my beating had been far more severe than the first one. I fell asleep after a light lunch, waking only for dinner, after which I slept some more.

"You have rested long enough, Wihakayda," Tatanka said as he approached the bluff on which I sat, a perch with a lovely scenic view of a stream that had long ago carved a valley way through the mountains, leaving small spots of meadows, one of which had several deer grazing.

"What are we going to do?"

"It is time you began to learn about some of the bad spirits. Not all spirits in the land are good or peaceful. Some are mischievous, some are neutral but they can seem harmful, and some are very evil. I will begin by teaching you of Unhcegila, a demon from ages past and one of our enemies."

I gulped nervously; her tone was deadly serious. I didn't miss that she'd said 'one of', implying that I had suddenly inherited multiple enemies.

Unhcegila, the serpent demon had originally come from the icy waters of the North Atlantic to bring chaos, fear, and death to the nations of the northeast, even to the point of destroying a few of them totally. He left a trail of destruction in his wake as he lumbered westward, until he found Paha Sapa, where he settled to dwell. Many of the People perished at his hands, or at the hands of his children. No warrior had been able to pierce Unhcegila's thick, armored hide with any of their weapons, though many had died trying. It still lived somewhere beneath Paha Sapa, waiting for something unknown to return and wreak its havoc upon the land.

Great. One of my enemies was a snake demon with impenetrable armored skin that could use magic_and_ had forearms with razor-sharp rake-like claws. I felt like it would have been simpler if she'd just have said Godzilla was my foe.

I don't know why she chose that particular demon, or that particular night, but it had rattled me, unlike the previous dreams. When I asked, Wakan Tanka merely said that I would need to understand the enemies of Ptesanwi and the People, and then she let Tatanka teach me about the spirits of the land, which was a much more relaxing lesson. It didn't, however, diminish the dread feeling I had about Unhcegila.

**********

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Mom called the school again to tell them that I was still sick so I didn't have to go, but they had to already know that I was a mutant and wasn't taking any chances. Danny had to rise much earlier to catch the school bus on its long, convoluted route since he couldn't ride in with me. With what had happened in town twice now, there was no way Mom and Dad were going to let me leave the farm and go to school, or even drive Danny to school and drop him off. I never thought I'd miss school, but I did.

After an early breakfast, I wandered out to the shop. The wind wasn't quite as brisk, and the temperature was only about five below. I turned up the heat in the shop and sat for a bit, looking at grandpa's car and the scattered pieces of the engine. The assembled tailshaft and input shaft were on a clean workbench covered with a shop cloth, waiting for me to continue reassembling the transmission. After fifteen minutes or so with the heater blasting, while I thought of what improvements I'd like to make to the car as I rebuilt it, the temperature was raised enough that I started working again.

I was amazed, as I seemed to constantly be, by some of my changes. Hefting things like the transmission case and countershaft, which should have been challenging for a petite girl like me, was relatively easy. I got so distracted working that Mom came out to check on me, carrying lunch. I hadn't realized that it was already two in the afternoon. As I chewed on the sandwich, I was doing some mental calculations. Fifteen minutes to make an alignment tool, and then two hours to get the various parts into the case, and I should be done. I know a professional shop could have done the overhaul much faster, and to be honest, so could I, but I was enjoying taking my time _and_ they had the proper tools, whereas I had to either improvise or make the tools. Mom didn't understand, but feeling the parts and their interactions was a big part of my joy of mechanical work, and it took time to really appreciate the intricacy of how the parts flowed together. One thing that Mom didn't know, but Dad did, was that when I was working on a project, I was also thinking about how it could be better, of what little tweaks or design changes would improve the mechanism. I'd already identified twenty-three things I'd do differently, if I had the proper shop and tools, to improve my transmission.

Once the transmission was assembled and I'd checked out the mechanisms, I cleaned up, reset the heater for the normal lower temperature, and went inside to clean up. When I came out of the bathroom, Mom sat me down. I could tell from the look on her face that it was going to be one of 'those' discussions.

"When I talked to the superintendent today," she began, "he was pretty insistent that you should attend classes."

"Does he know what they did to me?"

Mom nodded. "I explained it, and insisted that for your safety, you wouldn't be, at least for the foreseeable future.

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut as something I hadn't considered hit me with the force of a bomb. My plans had been to get a mechanical engineering degree, but now that was gone, hopeless, unless I got a high school diploma, and with me being persona non grata in town, there was no safe way for me to attend school. Mom read my reaction well. "I've called to get information on home-schooling. It's not going to be the same as going to school with your friends, but it will get you your diploma."

"I suppose I don't have much choice, do I?"

"He was very sympathetic, and he explained that, by law, the school couldn't discriminate, but he also understands that the other students could make it very difficult for you. He's going to get us an official copy of your transcripts, so we'll have that available as we look through our options."

Talk of school piqued my interest, so I went up to my room and began working on my college-level math, until dinner-time and then again after, right up until bedtime. I'd missed several days, and I was behind my self-imposed schedule.

**********

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

I started the day recovering from my 'lessons' with Wakan Tanka. She wouldn't answer directly, but since the discussion had continued around Unhcegila, I suspected more strongly than before that my role was inextricably tied to that demon snake, although she had mentioned other demonic beings, like Iktomi, the spider-trickster, and Iya, the storm demon of Lakota lore. She also promised that I would learn of demonic beings of other Peoples.

I was losing hope that Mom had been right about not everyone hating me, since I got zero texts, zero phone calls, and zero e-mails from kids I knew. Of course, Mom noted my morose mood, and she immediately zeroed in on the cause. When I explained how the lack of contact hurt, she suggested that the kids were afraid of the mob mentality, and that some might have parents who were bigoted against mutants to the degree that the kids were afraid of making any kind of contact for fear of being discovered and punished. It was flawless in its logic, but that didn't reduce the pain or sense of abandonment and isolation.

After dinner, when "Tales of the MCO" came on television, I hastened upstairs. I'd always enjoyed watching that show, but now, as a mutant myself, I was recognizing the subtle anti-mutant bias in the stories, characters, and presentation. Instead, I dug out an old novel I'd had, 'Adam Link, Robot', which was pretty derivative of Mary Shelly's 'Frankenstein'. The hero was a self-aware mechanical construct, and because he was better and different than baseline humans, he was feared. I could really relate to the story now that I'd mutated. Like the self-aware robot, I was ostracized and misunderstood all because I was different. I fell asleep with the book in my lap."

Wakan Tanka spent her time split between her healing spells and tales of the various evil spirits and demons. The healing spells were pretty cool to learn about, but the tales of the demons was rather depressing, and she presented it with a pretty ominous tone, almost like she was expecting that we would have to confront these demons now that we'd joined.

I finally had enough of her seemingly fatalistic descriptions of the demons. "Are you trying to tell me that now that we're joined, I'm going to have to fight all these demons? That sure would have been a nice detail to know before I agreed, you know."

Wakan Tanka was taken aback at my statement. "I didn't mean to make you think that you had to fight the demons. You will create your own path in life. Such is the way of Ptesanwi - what she does for the People is because of her choices, _your_ choices. You are not bound to a path you do not choose."

"So why the crash course in Native American demons and evil spirits?"

"Now that we are Ptesanwi, we might attract some unwanted attention. It is better to be prepared than not."

I couldn't argue with her reasoning, even if I wasn't completely certain about the truthfulness of her statements that everything was _my_ choice.

**********

Thursday, March 1, 2007

After breakfast, I started work on rebuilding the short-block of the engine; I installed the camshaft bearings and the camshaft, and then put in the new main bearings and the crankshaft. I torqued the main bolts down with a special measuring plastic between the crank surface and the bearing, then removed the bearing caps and checked the fit. All of the bearings were within tolerance, precisely as I'd planned, so I cleaned up the surfaces again, lubed everything with some assembly oil, and reassembled the crankshaft. I'd just finished torqueing down the main bearing caps when Danny came tearing into the shop.

"Kayda, Mom and Dad want you in the house NOW!" he yelled. He didn't wait, but instead grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward the house. As I ran beside him, I couldn't help but notice a cloud of dust or snow in the distance on the road leading to our house.

Dad was looking out the window at the dust cloud as he got spare magazines for his pistols from the gun case. Dad was in the habit of concealed-carry of at least one pistol, but at that moment, he had on his visible dual holsters, with a pistol in each, and he was stuffing mags into his pockets.

He turned to me. "Kayda, you and your mom get the hell out of here."

"What is it?" Mom asked, frightened by the reactions from Danny and Dad.

"A lot of trucks coming down the road." He glanced at me. "I got a tip from Marv that some of the local idiots were planning to stir up some trouble, and it looks like he was right."

My heart stuck in my throat. Trouble? After I'd been beaten and nearly killed twice already? I knew what they were after - me.

Dad had long since made his decision. "Kayda, you and your mother get in your truck and go through the pasture and the fields. Get yourselves out of the county and find a place to hole up. Maybe you can hide in Mitchell, but if you have to go to Sioux Falls or even all the way to Minneapolis, do it."

"But the fences!" I protested. If I knocked down the fences, we could lose a lot of livestock.

"I don't give a damn about fences or the cows. Get going. Now!" His voice carried a sense of urgency that spurred me into immediate action.

I ran upstairs, grabbed my drivers' license and keys, and met Mom on her way out the door with her purse and coat, and a coat for me. "We don't have time to pack. We'll have to get stuff later when we need it," she said, pulling on her winter coat. I'd never heard Mom sounding so frightened. Meanwhile, Dad was running to his truck, which he quickly drove and skidded to block the driveway. He must have coordinated something with Danny, because Danny had gotten a couple of hunting rifles and Dad's AR-15 from the gun cabinet and was loading them, a very grim look on his face. I got choked up, and gave him a quick hug. Danny and I had squabbled all our lives, but now he was willing to go to war, so to speak, to defend me so I would have a chance to get away.

I hopped in the driver's seat and started the truck, shifting into 4x4 low range, and spun the tires as I drove toward the pasture. There was a barbed-wire gate blocking the way, but it was no match for my three-quarter ton four-wheel-drive pickup with a 7.3 liter diesel engine. The last thing I saw in the mirror, before I went over a small rise, was Dad crouched behind the pickup, guns drawn, like he was ready for an OK Corral shootout. I wondered if I was ever going to see him again. I got choked up again at his bravery in defending me, a mutant that everyone else in town seemed to hate. Despite the fact that I'd become a girl, he undoubtedly loved me unconditionally.

I drove right through another fence that separated the pasture from a corn field. The rutted field caused the truck to bounce and shake wildly, and snow was flying everywhere, stirred up by the frantic passage of the vehicle. When I glanced, I saw that Mom was clutching the "Jesus handle" for all she was worth. I had a plan; I'd get onto the next section line road, and then drive toward the old highway - and hope and pray I didn't get stuck in a snowbank somewhere in the fields we were traversing or on the unimproved path that was the section line. A few miles beyond that was the highway to Mitchell, a modest-sized city that should give us a bit of respite. We'd been there frequently, since we could shop for things that would never be found in the limited stores of a dinky little town. Also, Mitchell was the location of the doctor and hospital that had delivered me and had saved me from a ruptured appendix. "Doctor Martin?" I asked Mom knowingly.

She nodded grimly without answering, too busy hanging on for dear life. Doctor Martin was a little friendlier, and hopefully more tolerant of mutants, than Doc Robinson. We'd have to cross that bridge when we came to it. First, we had to get out of the county, before the county sheriff decided to join the pursuit and add legal troubles to the simple fear for life and limb we already had. I knew that if Sheriff Clarkson got me in the county jail, under any pretext, I'd leave covered with a white sheet. His outspoken view against mutants was head and shoulders above anything else I'd heard in town, and he wore a "Humanity First" pin like a badge of honor.

The truck went airborne at one fence line because of the terrain, and we landed in a snow drift and bounced pretty hard twice, sending snow every direction and blinding up momentarily. Mom was as pallid as the snow. "Uh, let's not do that again," she muttered softly.

I grimaced. While this was true four-wheeling, in snow no less, I had to be careful that we didn't get stuck, and while the truck's suspension was tough, if I broke something in the driveline, we were well and truly screwed. "Okay," I said grimly.

We broke through two more fences and pulled onto the section line, and so far, it didn't seem that anyone was pursuing us. Because of the snow pack, I left the truck in four-wheel-drive, but I shifted into high-range, and with a little throttle, the truck sped down the road, far faster than the speed limit, but not as fast as either Mom or I would have liked. That was the downside of the truck as opposed to Mom's car. Then again, Mom's car couldn't have done the cross-country escape, and we would have been trapped by the house. I was worried about Dad and Danny, and I could see that Mom shared my concern. "They'll be okay," I said, trying to sound confident as I patted my mother's arm. She clutched my hand tightly, expressing more in that firm grasp than words could have; we were both frightened for Dad's and Danny's safety.

After about five miles, we turned on the main highway and tried to blend in with the other traffic. I relaxed a bit, and I could see that Mom did as well. When we passed the county line, I relaxed even more, since we were beyond the reach of Sheriff Clarkson. On the other hand, he could call the next county and alert them that we were fugitives, even though we were innocent of anything except me being a mutant.

In Mitchell, Mom directed me to a modest mom-and-pop motel. "Wait here," she instructed me after I parked, and she went inside to register and get a room key. I watched every car coming and going nervously, paranoid that someone was going to find me again, but Mom emerged with a key and smiled at me. I moved the truck, and we went into the motel room.

I wanted to collapse, but Mom had other ideas. She called Dad from her cell phone, and was anxious until Dad answered, at which point she put it on speaker.

"Are you okay?" Dad asked immediately, concerned more for our safety than for his own.

"Yes, dear, " Mom answered, relieved that he was alive and apparently unharmed. "What happened? Are you and Danny okay?"

Dad chuckled. "Jim Reynolds was leading the mob, and things looked a little tense, until I reminded them that I had a security camera recording the whole thing and that our land was posted for no trespassing, which they were trying to do. They weren't quite certain what they should do because I was holding my pistols ready. The clincher, though, was when they saw Danny aiming the rifle at them." He snorted. "Big, tough, men, as long as they're picking on someone younger, but they showed their true colors when they faced a confrontation."

"They'll get Sheriff Clarkson," Mom fretted.

Dad chuckled. "Let them try. I already called Senator Jennings, and he's got the state patrol on the way. If Clarkson tries anything, they'll intervene immediately, and he'll find himself on the receiving end of a lot of nasty state inquiries." He laughed aloud. "It's nice to be good friends with a politician at times.

"Are you and Danny going to be safe?" Mom continued to worry. "What if they come back, with guns and ...?"

"Don't worry. When I told them that you'd left, after I'd already won the first showdown, they seemed to all puff up at how they'd run the 'dangerous mutant' out of town. They got their moral victory, so give it a couple of days and things will be back to normal."

"Except that I can never come home again," I sniffled, knowing that I'd put my family in danger, and feeling the burden of losing everything. Now, that long list included possibly my family. "If I'm not safe on the farm, where am I safe?" I bawled softly so that Dad didn't hear. Damned female hormones were making me emotional, or at least, that's what I blamed.

"You stay safe," Dad and Mom said at the same time, and then they chuckled together. "I've got to get things taken care of. The pot roast is in the oven, so you and Danny should have enough for a few days. Make sure you put the leftovers ...."

"... in containers and put them in the refrigerator right away, so they don't spoil," Dad laughed. "I know, hon. You've gotten me trained, even though it may have taken you a few years."

We said our good-byes, promising to call with any news, and then Mom sighed. "In all the excitement, I kind of forgot how hungry I am. How about we get something to eat, and then we'll go shopping to pick up a few things?"

"Shopping? At a time like this?" I stammered, dumbfounded at Mom's apparent priorities.

"We need toiletries essentials, like toothbrushes and toothpaste. I don't know about you, but I didn't have time to grab any spare clothing or underwear. Yeah, shopping at a time like this is appropriate. Besides," she added with impeccable motherly logic, "it's the last place they would look for someone trying to hide out _if_ someone were looking for us."

I sighed. There was no way I was going to win. The ace in my sleeve, though, was that Mom didn't know how to drive a stick-shift, so I was the chauffeur. When I was ready to leave, we were going to leave. Mom just gave me a knowing smile. "Don't try to pull the chauffeur thing on me, either. I have the room key and the money, remember."

Damn. How did she know what I was thinking? "Okay," I answered with a sigh. We walked out to the truck, and after we were buckled in, Mom fiddled in her purse. "Put these on," she said to me, handing me her sunglasses.

"Oh, yeah," I answered sheepishly. I'd forgotten how much I stood out with my emerald eyes. "Okay, where to? Target or Walmart?"

Mom flashed me a smile again. "Target. Better quality and it's a less likely hiding place."

The _easiest_ things we picked up were toothbrushes and toothpaste. After that, things went downhill fast, at least as far as I was concerned. Panties? No big deal; it's like buying men's underwear, right? Yeah ... not so much. What style, what size, what color? Lacy and daring or plain? After ten minute of arguing with mom, I grabbed a package that was mom's size and threw it in our shopping cart. Mom picked them up and looked at them, and then looked at me with 'the look'. "What?" I asked, instantly defensive.

"If you want a bikini-cut panty with lace, go right ahead."

"Underwear is underwear," I retorted, to which Mom just laughed.

Next on the list were bras. Mom knew immediately what size and style she wanted, so I decided to go with the same. Mom stopped me. "They don't fit you very well, and frankly, you're already a bit bigger up top than I am."

I shook my head. 'Great - now my mother is comparing her boobs to mine!' I thought. 'This has gone from bad to utterly humiliating!'

"You need to find something close, and then try it on for fit," she added.

"Sheesh, Mom," I protested. "It's only underwear!"

"And if that underwear doesn't fit you properly, you'll be sore all around your ribcage and shoulders, to say nothing of your breasts." Again, it was hard to argue with mother-logic, no matter how much I wanted to. So I tried on probably two dozen bras before I found one that Mom was satisfied with the fit. "Get one in white, and two in tan." I picked up the two tan bras from a rack that was labeled with the same size, and then found myself eyeing a pink one with some lace, reminiscing about the very sexy pink bra that Julie had worn one time we'd been ... making out. For some reason, it held my attention far more than it should have. Mom noticed. "Okay, first, you have to get the same brand. Second, if you want a pink bra, then ...." She searched the racks for the right brand and size, and put one in the basket, which made my cheeks burn with embarrassment, mostly because I'd brought that on myself.

Okay, so that's done, right? Not quite. It was back to the panties section to find a pair of pink lacy panties that matched the pink bra. And I had no idea why the heck I had even looked at that pink bra in the first place!

T-shirts were easy. Blouses weren't; the reversed buttons were my nemesis when I had to try them on for fit. I got a white blouse, but Mom insisted on one with floral embroidery on the collar. Then I had to get a couple of polo shirts. The variety of necklines and styles amazed me. No wonder it took forever for women to shop! Jeans were another harrowing experience in trying to find a decent fit in a style that I could live with. There wasn't a pair in the store that wasn't overly tight and accentuating my rear-end and legs! I got a pair of slacks, and then Mom made me get a skirt. Shoes, panty hose for when (if) I wore a skirt. Socks. Purse. Gak! - it seemed to go on and on. And when I thought the torture could _never_ be worse, Mom smiled and told me that once I started wearing makeup, I'd have a lot of choices to make there as well. I think she was enjoying tormenting me - probably as payback for the twenty-six hours she claimed she was in labor delivering me. Either that, or she was making up, in one trip, all the shopping she wished she could have done if she'd have had a daughter - and I was the lucky recipient of that 'personal' attention.

Then we went back for hair products and personal hygiene, again in a dizzyingly large array of styles, colors, sizes, scents, and on and on and on. When we finally left, after Mom put a pretty sizeable dent in the bank balance, it was almost three hours later. And we hadn't stopped to eat, so I was famished. It wasn't the pot roast we'd planned on for supper, but we got burgers, and it was enough to fill me up.

We settled in to sleep, but I kept having nightmares. Whenever I drifted off, something horrible woke me up, screaming a couple of times. I cursed that I hadn't brought the medicinal herbs Grandma had given me; otherwise, I could have made some calming tea to help me sleep without the nightmares. I realized that I was going to have to include the ingredients on my next shopping list. Mom moved to my bed and hugged me; I felt a lot safer with her beside me, and I managed to get back to sleep, and when I started having another nightmare, she could soothe me before I woke up screaming. The night must have been hell for her.

**********

Friday, March 2, 2007

Mitchell, SD

I was awake before the alarm went off, even though I was very tired. I know the nightmares really interrupted my sleep, enough that they were probably the reason I was awake. I would have given anything for a peaceful dream with Wakan Tanka and Tatanka instead of dreams of my old friends beating me, throwing me in an open grave, and burying me alive - and that was one of the more pleasant ones. Mom was still sleeping, exhausted from being up with me most of the night. I decided to let her rest, and went to clean up. Maybe I'd go get some of the free continental breakfast for the two of us while I let her sleep a little longer.

I gritted my teeth and went through what would eventually become my morning routine, even though it was far from routine and quite alien to me. Sit to pee, make sure the seat is down. Showers hurt some parts of my body. Wet hair is a complete mess full of tangles. I wondered if there was something for that; if so, Mom hadn't clued me in yet. As a result, I fought tangled hair for a good twenty minutes before I got it semi-straight and knot-free. Only when I'd finished with my hair did I notice a bottle of crème rinse on the counter, which would have helped me with the tangles immensely, if only I had known it was there and how to use it.

I put on panties and a bra - the pink ones; that surprised me that I would have gone for pink so soon after my transformation. I chalked that decision up to the Brandon part of my brain still being exhausted by our frantic escape and not objecting strenuously enough to the still-developing Kayda part of my brain. Then I put on my jeans and one of the T-shirts. A pair of sandals, and I was ready to go get breakfast for Mom and me.

She'd left the room key on a small dresser, on which also perched an old television. Entertainment would be handy if we had to hole-up here for a while. I slipped the key into my pocket, unlocked the door, and walked outside, pulling on my sunglasses as I did so. Even that reminded me of the change, since Mom had insisted on a style of sunglasses that was decidedly feminine.

Fortunately for my frazzled nerves, there were only three people in the breakfast area - a couple and a noisy brat that was obviously their son of around 4 years of age. I tried to ignore them, but the brat was just too noisy. He wanted juice. Wrong kind. Why don't they have Cap'n Crunch cereal? He wanted Cap'n Crunch, not raisin bran! Have some toast. He didn't want toast, and threw it at the garbage can. Donut? Even chocolate iced donuts didn't make the kid happy. I wondered if I'd ever been that impossible when I was his age.

I put two pieces of bread in the toaster, and while it was toasting, I got a cinnamon-raisin bagel and some cream cheese. I knew that Mom adored cinnamon-raisin bagels whenever she got a chance to treat herself. I debated cooking a waffle, but I wasn't very hungry, and Mom wasn't a big breakfast eater. When the toast popped out of the toaster, I buttered the slices, and spread on the little packets of what was claimed to be strawberry jam, knowing I'd been spoiled by the stuff Mom made. We had a huge vegetable garden, and Mom was an expert at making jams, jellies, pickled beets, pickles, and just about anything else that could be canned. I especially loved sweet corn fresh from the garden; when all the fruits and vegetables ripened, Mom spent weeks in the kitchen preserving the food, making jams and jellies, canning food, and freezing other produce. I was going to miss those delicious home-made jams because I couldn't go home again. I started feeling melancholy.

I added a donut to the plate, and then poured Mom a cup of coffee, adding the creamer and sugar, and got myself a glass of an apple-juice-like substance. That made me choke up again; long ago, Dad had planted some fruit trees, including apples and cherries, and Mom made homemade apple sauce and apple-butter. I was going to miss those, too. And I was stunned to realize that I was going to miss Danny, even if I had kidded him mercilessly while we were together. I didn't think it would ever be safe for me to go home again.

When I got to the room, Mom was in the shower, so I set down the breakfasts. "Brand ..., I mean Kayda, is that you?" she called from the bathroom.

"Yeah, Mom. I got us some breakfast." She came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, with a second towel around her head. Without batting an eye, she dropped the towel and began to dress. I don't know if she subconsciously didn't think of me as Brandon since I was a girl, but it was highly embarrassing for me, and I quickly turned away. Imagine feeling like a guy, despite your body, and having your mom completely naked in a room with you as she dressed. She paused after she slipped on her bra, and noticed me trying to avoid looking at her.

"Oh, yeah. You're not used to women dressing, are you?" She chuckled. "I forgot, I guess."

"I have to get used to it sometime," I stammered. In the fraction of a second between Mom dropping the towel and me turning away, I couldn't help but notice Mom's figure; she was in her mid-thirties, with the figure of a curvy college girl, but with a few stretch marks from childbirth - but she was my MOM! Since she spent a lot of time helping around the farm and in the garden, she was very fit and had a nice tan - mostly because she wore shorts and a shirt with the tails tied beneath her breasts as she did all her outside chores. What was worse about looking at her was realizing that _my_ body was curvier, and that I was undeniably much better looking. Aaarghh! This was not supposed to happen to a teenage boy!

Mom grinned. "You probably never thought of your mother as a looker, did you?"

I was certain that I was turning green of the direction this was going to go. "Uh, no. And I don't want to know more," I added quickly.

Mom laughed as she pulled on her pants. "You're going to _have_ to know more. Remember the talk you had with your dad? None of that applies now. We're going to have to teach you about feminine hygiene, contraception, hair care, makeup ...." She was looking a little excited, like she was going to get to interact with a daughter in a way she never could with her sons, but the more she talked, and the more enthusiastic she got, the more my stomach churned unpleasantly, almost making me wish that I'd skipped breakfast.

We ate, with me being mostly silent while Mom talked. I felt a little queasy at what she was saying, but I kept my mouth shut for fear it would make 'the talk' longer and even more embarrassing. At least Mom didn't do it via 'show and tell', which would have probably made me faint or throw up. When we finished, it was almost eight in the morning, so Mom called Doctor Martin's office.

"Hello, Maggie?" she said. "It's June Franks. I've got a big problem, and we need to get in to see Doctor Martin as soon as possible. It's kind of an emergency." I wondered what the receptionist was saying.

"Yeah, it's very important. It's about Brandon."

"He's okay, well, sort of. It's complicated."

"Okay, we'll see you around nine. We're in town, in a motel. Can you give us a call when the doctor is in? This is kind of sensitive and we'd like to be ... discrete."

"No, it's not that," Mom laughed. "Okay, we'll wait for your call. We're only a couple of minute from your office." She hung up the phone. "Doctor Martin only has one patient in the hospital now, so his rounds should go very quickly and there's a gap in the schedule. We've got an appointment at nine."

"I heard. I noticed that you didn't tell them, and you asked them to be discrete."

Mom shook her head. "I've known Maggie since we were in high school, but I don't know the other staff that well, and I didn't want to take a chance." I understood exactly what she was talking about. We didn't know how the staff felt about mutants, and we didn't want to spend time in the waiting room as later patients came in. Mom continued, "She asked if you had gynecomastia or something embarrassing like that."

"Gyne-what?" I'd never heard that term.

"It's breast growth in men and boys."

I gestured at my ... healthy ... chest. "And these aren't?"

"Well, yes, but technically, since you're a girl now, that's not what it is."

"Not helping here, Mom," I said with frustration. Joking around was something our family always did, to keep things friendly and light-hearted, but right now, I didn't want to joke around. Instead, I sat back on my bed and closed my eyes. I wondered if I would be able to talk to Tatanka and Wakan Tanka when I wanted, or only when _they_ wanted.

I sat at the fire circle again; across from me were Wakan Tanka and Tatanka both. Tatanka was full-sized, which was more than a little intimidating since I'd become used to seen him the size of a large dog.

"We are here when _you_ want," Wakan Tanka said, almost chiding me. "Did you forget what Tatanka said? You are in control, and we are joined. We will always be here for you."

"You are learning to talk in your mind without going into dream-space," Tatanka said. "When you are in danger, and only then, will we come to your mind to tell you even if you are not in dream-space."

"All I had to do was close my eyes and meditate, and I'm here?"

"You will be almost like a dream-walker, able to enter dream-space at will. In time, you will learn all the skills of a dream-walker, including helping others with their own visions. And with more practice, you won't even have to close your eyes to see and talk with us."

"That sounds kind of creepy."

Wakan Tanka smiled. "It is a great responsibility to dream-walk for others. You will have the power to influence their dreams. Once you learn dream-walking, you must never violate the dream of another without their permission, except in cases where their life is at stake."

"You must go," Tatanka said. "Your mother is calling you."

"How can you tell? And why don't I know this?"

Wakan Tanka smiled. "You are still learning, Wihakayda. Right now, you can only be in one space at a time until you improve your control. We sense both real-space and dream-space, and soon, you will, too."

I snapped out of my trance suddenly, feeling Mom shaking my shoulder lightly. "I got a call from Maggie. We need to go now."

"Uh, okay," I said, sure I was only half-coherent. Moving to and from dream-space was disconcerting, and it took me a while to re-orient myself. I stood, took my purse - yes, Mom had me carrying a clutch purse now - and followed her to my truck. As soon as we were outside, I fished out my sunglasses, cursing once more the girly style of the things, while at the same time, grateful that they hid my eyes from others.

When we got to the clinic, Mom turned to me at the door. "I'll go to the window. You just hang back, so no-one can see you." Mom read my frown. "I don't know how anyone in the office feels about mutants. We don't want another episode like Doc Robinson, do we?"

"No. I guess not." I didn't like to hide; I'd never been shy before I manifested. Now, though, I found myself constantly fearful of everyone and everything. After the two nearly fatal beatings I'd received, I think anyone would have been fearful, since I didn't have any cool mutant powers to defend myself.

We went in, and I took a seat. There weren't any other patients - yet, so I could be unobtrusive. Mom went to the window, which slid open. "Hi, Maggie," Mom said warmly.

"Hi, June. It's been a while. Is everything okay with the family?"

Mom shrugged her shoulders. "Sort of."

"Why the secrecy?" Maggie asked in a low voice, but still loud enough that I could overhear.

Mom sighed. "How do you and Doctor Martin feel about ... mutants?" she asked softly. I guessed that Maggie's eyes were wide as saucers, even though I couldn't see them.

"I've never heard anyone talk like those Humanity First jerks, but I'm not sure how they feel privately. I know Doctor Martin is okay, so long as they're not trying to destroy the office." I could hear her frown. "Why? Is there something wrong? Wait, you said this was you and Brandon? Don't tell me ...."

Mom nodded. "Brandon manifested a few days ago. He also got severely beaten, and our doctor at home is pretty anti-mutant, so I didn't feel safe taking him there."

Maggie's head popped up from behind her counter, and she started glancing around the waiting room. When she saw only me, she looked confused, and then astonished. "You're kidding, right?"

Mom shook her head. "I wish I was," she said through clenched teeth. "That's Brandon. Or rather, it was Brandon. Now, we think she's a mostly-normal girl."

"Wow!"

"And her friends tried to beat her to death - twice."

Maggie gasped. "No wonder you were insistent on discretion. Let me get you to the back before other patients come in." She closed the window and opened a door, leading Mom and me to an exam room. There was a stool for the doctor, a chair which Mom took, and the examining table, which I sat on, quite uncomfortably, I might add. The lack of back support, coupled with the damage I'd undergone in the past couple of days, really made it unpleasant. I decided to lie down, curling up on my side.

As I lay, waiting, my cell phone beeped to announce an incoming message. I instinctively reached for my pocket, and remembered to my chagrin that the tight, girly jeans didn't have a place to comfortably put a phone. I opened my purse and dug out the phone, looking at the text message.

~Are you okay?~ It was from Julie.

"Like I'm going to answer that after she set me up!" I snarled, slamming the phone back in my purse. A few moments later, it beeped again. I sighed, and then looked at the message.

~I need to talk. Please!~ Again, it was Julie.

This time, I was furious that she'd have the nerve to text me after what she'd done. ~So you can set me up so they can try to kill me again? I don't want to talk to you again - ever!!!~

Mom was watching me, curious about the message I was pounding into the phone with great malice, and she read my expression. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Julie." I spat her name as if it were the most distasteful thing imaginable. "I thought she was my friend, even after I manifested, but she betrayed me, just like everyone else. She set me up so they could try to kill me again," I snorted in disgust.

"You should talk to her," Mom strongly suggested in her 'mommy' voice and look, which was nearly impossible to resist. This time, though, I was determined to.

"Why?" I scoffed.

The door opened, interrupting Mom before she could answer, and Doctor Martin stepped briskly in. "Okay, Brandon," he said, looking at my file, "what seems to be ...?" He stopped, staring at me, as soon as he looked up. "You're ... you're not Brandon."

I nodded. "Yes, I am. I'm a mutant, and I manifested a few days ago."

"You're ... you're a girl?"

I pulled off my sunglasses. "And a mutant," I said slowly, a little afraid of how he'd react.

"I see," he said, sitting in the stool. "And you came to me because ...?"

Mom jumped in. "Doctor Robinson hates mutants, and he wasn't treating Bran ... Kayda ... properly, certainly not with the compassion and care I'd come to expect from the medical profession." Mom was very pointedly making her feelings known, and setting her expectations for Doctor Martin.

"What do you need of me?" he asked straightforwardly.

"Some kids in Kayda's school tried to kill her twice. She was left pretty battered, with broken bones and really bad bruises." She shook her head. "She's got some kind of healing powers, but I want to follow up to make sure she's healing properly, even though she claims to have recovered already."

"Ah, so we're talking X-rays to make sure the bones healed. Anything else?"

"We need to have her get a checkup, to see if her change to being ... female is complete," Mom continued, to which I blushed furiously, feeling my cheeks burning like red-hot stoves. She handed Doc Martin a sheet of paper, on which she'd written everything she and dad had observed.

Doctor Martin read the paper, and his eyes narrowed as he finished. He said nothing, but simply nodded. "First things first. I'm not a member of, or a believer in the warped philosophy of, Humanity First. They're a bunch of bigots, and I have no time for that. Mutants are human beings, too, and deserve to be treated as such." I felt much safer after he said that, and I could see Mom relaxing quite a bit. "Now, as to the injuries, Brandon,"

"Kayda," Mom and I both interrupted him.

"Kayda," he corrected himself. "Why don't we start by you telling me all the things that you know were broken or bruised, or otherwise injured in the attacks? I suspect, from what I know about mutants, that you have some kind of regeneration power to have healed so quickly, if you say some of these injuries were just two days ago."

Mom and I went down the list. Left lower leg and ankle, broken. Right thigh - broken. Eight or nine ribs, front, back, and sides, broken. Broken left collarbone. Shattered wrist. Broken left and right arms. Broken cheekbone. Broken nose. Probable skull fractures. Possible hip fracture. As the list continued, and Doctor Martin took notes, he grew increasingly amazed that I was even alive, let alone that I had apparently healed. I added all that I could think of for soft-tissue injuries, like the pounding one kidney had taken, resulting in bloody urine, and the twisted knees that I feared had ACL tears. The list of injuries went on and on. When I finished my list, he shot a glance at Mom, his expression carefully neutral. I wondered what that was all about.

I had probably twenty X-rays covering almost all of my body, followed by testing of my reflexes, strength, flexibility, and joint motion. After checking my chart, Doctor Martin's head nurse, Lisle, checked my eyes and hearing. She asked me a lot of questions about my past, my family, and she had me do a few math problems that should have been suited for my age, but were woefully easy for me. By the time they finished all the tests and had the X-ray results, it was nearly noon. Mom and I were ushered to an exam room to wait for him to finish with a patient so he could discuss his findings with us.

Doctor Martin came in after a few minutes and sat down on the stool again. "Well," he began, "you've got some gift of healing or regeneration."

"What does that mean, Doctor?" Mom asked before I could.

"In all the X-rays, we can't even find where the breaks were, like you never had any broken bones. Your joint motion is normal, and your flexibility is above normal. You have above-normal strength in all your muscle groups, which tells me that you have no residual joint or soft-tissue injuries. In fact, you're a lot stronger than you should be. Blood count is normal, as is your urinalysis. In other words, you're perfectly healthy." He looked at Mom warily, as if there was some secret they shared. "There's one more exam we need to do."

"What's that?" I asked, suddenly feeling like it was something I wasn't going to like - at all.

Mom put her hand on mine reassuringly. "Every young woman has to have a gyno, to make sure she's healthy. Since you just became a girl, you need to have ... those parts checked out."

My heart raced, and I scooted back on the exam table, away from Mom and Doctor Martin, drawing my legs up to my chest and clutching them tightly. "No!" I practically screamed. "Uh, uh! No!" Mom told me later that the look on my face was one of sheer terror.

Mom stood and held my hand. "Kayda, it's important that we make sure you're healthy."

"No!" I was in a full panic-attack, but I didn't know it. All I knew was that I was nearly paralyzed with fear of getting an intrusive, personal exam. I scooted further back.

"I'll be here with you," Mom reassured me.

"I'm a professional physician," Doctor Martin reminded me. "I do this type of exam frequently, and we'll have a nurse here to help assure you that nothing untoward happens."

"No!" I screamed again, not really understanding why I was reacting so strongly.

Doc sat back on his stool. "You need a gyno, but if you're unsure, we can do it later, when you're more comfortable." Again, he shot a curious glance at Mom.

I felt myself relax a little bit, though I was still tense that the subject had even been brought up. I hadn't understood why the thought of a gyno exam terrified me so; was it because that was proof-positive that I was irrevocably female? Or was there something more to my reluctance? I couldn't help wondering.

"So what can you tell us?" Mom asked as I slowly recovered from the panic attack.

"As far as we can tell, you are a healthy young woman, with healing or regenerative power. You are definitely a mutant." He shrugged. "Beyond that," he shook his head, "I'm not the one to tell."

Mom frowned, then a thought occurred to her that was a visible eureka moment. "Should we contact the MCO to help understand Kayda's powers?"

"No!" Doctor Martin said instantly and very emphatically.

"But ... they're the group that helps mutants."

Doctor Martin shook his head. "Do the names Roberta Jennings or Sara Johnson ring a bell?"

Mom scowled as she thought. "I can't say they do."

"Wait," I began. "The name Sara Johnson sounds familiar." I wrinkled my brow as I tried to think. "That's right! A bunch of us were talking about Sara the other day. Wasn't she a mutant girl from Wessington that disappeared?"

Doctor Martin nodded. "According to her parents, the MCO took custody of her. According to the MCO, they interviewed her at her home and left, never taking custody of her." He shook his head. "They're just the latest two. There are too many rumors of mutant children just ... disappearing when the MCO gets involved."

"But ... they're the good guys!" I protested. I'd watched 'Tales of the MCO' frequently.

Doctor Martin shook his head. "Some are, and some aren't. Many members of the MCO are also members of Humanity First."

I gasped aloud. H1 was as anti-mutant as they came. "You mean ...?"

"I mean, if you call the MCO," he said, looking solemnly at Mom, "you could just flip a coin as to whether you'll ever see her again, or whether she'll just disappear, like too many other youth mutants such as Sara Johnson and Roberta Jennings."

Mom gulped, and I was right with her. All these years, I'd thought the Mutant Commission Office was the good guys, protecting all of us from dangerous mutants. Apparently, though, the truth was far uglier than the carefully-crafted public image, I was forced to admit. 'Tales of the MCO' suddenly seemed a little too formulaic when I thought of it in light of what Doctor Martin was telling Mom and me.

"What can we do?" Mom asked the question that was on my mind.

Doctor Martin smiled, which was curious, given the serious nature of the discussion we'd just been having. "I know of someone in Sioux Falls that can help you. He's a superhero named Farm Boy, one of the founders of the Sioux Falls League, and he's really on the level. He's such a noted public figure that the MCO just leaves him alone. I'll get the contact information before you leave. Now, do you have any questions for me?"

"This," I stammered, needing to confirm what I already suspected, "this is permanent, isn't it?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." He looked at me. "I take it that you were pretty certain, but you needed confirmation, right?" I simply nodded. He turned to Mom. "I'd strongly suggest that you get to Sioux Falls as soon as possible. There are a lot of Humanity First members in this area, and I'd bet that someone has already called the MCO. That means you might be in danger. They'll probably get records, and search for your vehicle. If I were you, when you get to Sioux Falls, ditch it and rent a car. Or do it here, before you leave." His somber tone let us both know that he was deadly serious about the threat to my life.

Doctor Martin escorted us from the exam room, but he paused with Mom while I walked ahead, not realizing they'd stopped. I turned, and saw him talking to her in a hushed voice. Nevertheless, I heard part of the conversation.

"She doesn't remember, does she?" Doctor Martin asked Mom, to which Mom just shook her head. "I'm worried about depression," Doctor Martin whispered to Mom.

"I was wondering about that," Mom answered, looking relieved.

"I'm going to give you some sample of an older anti-depressant. I'd give you a prescription, but filling it could be ...."

"I understand. I take it this isn't one of those new drugs we hear about on the ads?"

Dr. Martin shook his head. "Those are called SSRIs, and they can be very dangerous in mutants, sometimes causing them to go into rager fits. No, this isn't one of those." He turned to a cabinet and rummaged through the contents a bit until he got a small box of sample meds. "The problem with this is that it usually takes two weeks to be really effective, if it works on Kayda at all."

"Huh?" Mom asked, confused.

Dr. Martin explained, "In some types of mutants, especially exemplars and regenerators, drugs don't work normally. Their bodies burn them out very, very quickly. But we'll try anyway. The Sioux Falls League has access to specialists who can tell you more. In the meantime, it doesn't hurt to try."

**********

Interstate 90 in Eastern South Dakota

Mom drove, since we'd ditched my pickup and rented a car. I texted Dad with the location of the truck, knowing that he and one of the truck drivers would retrieve my truck and take it home, not that I'd ever see it again. I hung my head sadly; I was leaving behind yet _another_ part of my life. As the mile passed, and we got further and further from home, my mood darkened more and more. I was leaving a life behind, and the degree of loss was slowly becoming apparent to me. I wasn't much of a traveling companion to Mom, because I was brooding over what I'd lost.

"Why are you so sad?" Wakan Tanka sat beside me at the fire circle.

"I'm leaving everything behind. My family, my school, my friends, my home - everything." I fought the sting of tears.

"You have what's important," Tatanka said, surprising me.

"What? You?" I demanded. "That's hardly ..."

"Even though they may be far, you have your family. They love you and are doing everything they can to help you," Wakan Tanka said. "They feel the pain of your departure as much as you do, but they're being brave for you. Shouldn't you be brave for them, too, to help ease their pain?"

I sat at the circle, stunned into silence. There was truth in what they said; I could have far less. My family could have turned on me when I became a mutant, but they didn't.

"You were anxious to leave to take the danger from your family, weren't you?"

I nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth. "I ... couldn't let anything happen to them because of me."

"And they are doing the same," Tatanka said.

"Your brother and father are brave warriors," Wakan Tanka said. "They put themselves in danger to protect you, as any warrior would do. Your mother, too, put herself in danger to help you."

That made me think. I could have lost so much more than I had. I still had my family's love and support.

"Now, let us work on the healing skills you will need."

"What other things will I learn?" I asked meekly.

Wakan Tanka smiled. "Eager to learn? Good. That means you will be a good student." She began to get out her things. "First, you must learn the names of the plants and herbs you will use, and how to identify them."

"Oh, great, more memorization," I muttered under my breath.

Tatanka smiled. "If you use the wrong plant in a healing potion, you could end up turning one you would help into an animal such as a snake."

My mouth dropped open in shock. "Really?" I gasped.

Wakan Tanka chuckled. "No, Tatanka is making a joke. Really, the magic wouldn't work as well, if it worked at all."

Before I knew it, we took the exit into Sioux Falls to find reasonable and out-of-the-way lodging to hide. After Mom checked us in, we put our stuff in the hotel room. The first thing Mom did was to give me one of the anti-depressants to take. Mom used the room phone to call the number for Farm Boy, the guy Doctor Martin had recommended, while I lay back on a bed, bored out of my mind and getting more and more depressed with every passing minute. I'd lost so much, and I was quite probably wanted by the MCO. What else could go wrong with what was left of my life?

"Sheesh," Mom said through a heavy sigh, "it's a damned answering machine." She rolled her eyes as she listened to the message. "For superhero help, press 1," she parroted the machine in a mocking, sing-song voice. "For press information, press 2. To schedule a public appearance, press 3. If you are a supervillain calling in a threat, press 4. For medical emergencies, call 911 or go to the emergency room. For all other matters, press 0 or stay on the line. Good grief!"

"I'm June Franks, and I was given this contact number by Doctor Martin in Mitchell, with a request that you help my ...child ... who recently manifested. My cell number is ...." She stopped suddenly, and her eyes widened.

"Yes, she manifested a few days ago." I noticed that Mom was talking as if I'd always been a girl. Given how people reacted to sexuality issues around here, her use of a female pronoun was probably wise, even though it was a reminder of what I'd lost.

"No, her school friends almost beat her to death - twice."

"No, we haven't contacted the MCO. Dr. Martin warned us not to."

"No, I don't know if anyone is following us. I don't think so."

"Yeah, there are some Humanity First people in our hometown, so someone _may_ have contacted them."

"Okay, what time and where?"

"Yeah, I've got it." Mom glanced at me. "Kayda, look out the window carefully and see if you see anything that seems odd."

I did as Mom asked, cautiously pulling back one edge of the curtain a crack, and glancing around the parking lot. "I don't see anything," I reported. "What am I watching for?"

"What should we watch for?" Mom asked into the phone. She waited a few seconds.

"Parked cars with people in suits sitting in them, like they're watching. People whose clothes look out of place, walking slowly and looking our way a lot."

Geez, this was like a Bond movie or something. "I didn't see anything like that."

"She doesn't see anyone like that."

"Okay, we'll meet you in a few minutes."

"Yeah, we know where it is."

"What? Oh, yeah, when my ... child ... manifested, she got some rather unexpected changes."

"No, we don't know what she can do, except heal pretty well."

"Okay, twenty minutes." Mom hung up and grabbed her purse.

"Aren't you going to tell me what's going on?" I demanded, somewhat impatiently.

"In the car," Mom said as she handed me my purse. We walked out to the car, and I couldn't help but glance around. As I looked, I saw something that made me gasp loud enough that Mom heard me. "What?"

"Over by the restaurant, there's a car with two men inside, watching us, I think."

Mom nodded slightly. "Pretend you didn't see them and get in the car." I don't know how Mom kept her cool, but she did. We got in the car and drove out of the motel's parking lot. "Are they following us?"

I glanced around quickly. "Yes." Oh, shit. I started to panic, but Mom just drove like there was nothing wrong. We drove down Twelfth Street, past the battleship South Dakota memorial, and then we turned onto a major southbound street, passing the Great Plains Zoo. I used to love coming to Sioux Falls to visit the memorial and the zoo, and shop in the mall, and .... I realized that I'd probably never get to go the State B basketball tournament, which was _the_ social event for high school kids from all over the state. I sighed heavily; I'd lost _that_ part of my life as well. I glanced back again, and saw the car with the two men in it, still following, but not closely enough to arouse suspicion, or so they thought.

"Where are we going?"

Mom didn't take her eyes off the road. "The mall." She was reading my mind. "I know it sounds crazy, but he said to go to the restrooms near the JC Penney store."

When we got to Forty-First Street, Mom proved that she could be devious; she hesitated until our light was red and we had to stop, and then she darted around the corner quickly before the cross-traffic could block her way. Traffic on Forty-First Street was heavy enough to prevent anyone else from making a right-turn on red to follow us. That bought us a minute or so lead.

We pulled into the mall parking lot, and quickly parked the car and dashed inside. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw our tail just pulling into the parking lot. Once more, I felt panic, but Mom just held my hand and pulled me forward. Inside, Mom oriented herself quickly. I'd forgotten to put on my sunglasses, and I was getting a lot of strange and fearful looks.

We had a ways to walk to get to the indicated restrooms; I could tell that our tail was back, but a long ways behind us. Now that they were in the mall, though, they could walk more quickly or even run now that they didn't have the constraints of traffic and cars to deal with, and I knew that they were closing the distance between us. We turned down the short corridor to the restrooms, and as we passed a janitor's closet, the door suddenly opened and hands pulled us inside, holding us firmly and covering our mouths so we couldn't make a sound despite our struggles. Two other figures walked out of the closet, but I didn't get a close look at them because I was busy panicking about being grabbed.

Mom and I were carried through another door and into an elevator that descended a _long_ ways. Then, still restrained and muffled, we rode some type of silent underground car through a dark tunnel until we stopped at what looked like a subway station. A door opened, and we stepped into some kind of foyer or antechamber, and once the first door had closed, another door opened into a large area that looked somewhat like a living room, with conversation groups of sofas and chairs, coffee tables, and comfortably plush carpeting. Paintings hung on the walls to add some color.

That didn't mollify the fact that I was in a state of panic. I was lowered to the floor and the arm around my waist relaxed and let go, while the hand over my mouth went away. I spun, angry and spitting nails. "What the hell ...?" I started to say.

I never finished my question, because I found myself staring up into the eyes of a thirty-year-old man who I thought was, to my utter shock, attractive. Farm Boy was just over six feet tall, with well-defined muscles that rippled when he moved even the slightest amount. Blonde hair, long enough to be a little rebellious, framed his movie-star face. His smile probably set a new scale for white teeth; they positively gleamed. And his eyes - deep blue, almost hypnotic orbs that made me think that girls would do anything if he merely stared into their eyes and smiled. I felt my knees wobble, but I also felt the icy grip of panic about my throat. Despite the strange sense of attraction, I was trembling with fright and fighting the urge to flee. I had no idea why I felt so fearful of a superhero, only that I did.

Gak, I thought a man was attractive! Ugh! But he _was_ quite handsome, and he exuded charm that seemed to be affecting me in a strange way. "Erk ...." I tried to continue but found myself tongue-tied, caught between an unwelcome physical attraction and a strange terror.

The man smiled pleasantly. "I get that a lot. I have a 'glamour' field that I can't completely turn off," he explained, "and it has an effect on women." He evidently hadn't picked up on my unspoken fear.

"But ... I ...!" I wanted to deny that I'd felt anything remotely resembling attraction. And in my moment of panic, I'd come close to blurting out my secret. I had to watch my words more carefully. I was a little unnerved by the way he was staring at _me_ the way I used to stare at attractive girls. And there was still that unexplained, paralyzing sense of fear.

The man stuck out his hand to me to shake. "I'm Farm Boy," he introduced himself. "My accomplice over there is Tractor. Cornflower is out with Vanity Girl, and Twinkletoes is in the lab, but you'll meet them soon. Welcome to the home of the Sioux Falls League."

Tractor chuckled, seeing my plight. "Your reactions to Farm Boy are pretty common, so don't feel bad." Tractor was built like, well, a tractor - a well-muscled man of about twenty-four or twenty-five, with a small double chin and a tiny hint of a beer belly. His hair was cut conservatively, or at least what I could see of it beneath the cap with a famous green tractor logo on it. Where Farm Boy looked like a playboy, Tractor looked like he was a friend from next-door, on whom you could rely when you needed help, and to whom you'd gladly give help if he needed it. Not that someone like Tractor was ever likely to need help. I could tell he was trying to not gawk at me the way Farm Boy was.

"Not helping here," I said with a scowl.

Mom was laughing at the exchange. "I'm Mrs. Franks," she said once she could speak again, extending her hand to Farm Boy. Her cheeks were a little flushed, which made me think that she, too, was being affected by his attractiveness aura.

"Let's see - Farm Boy, Tractor, and Cornflower for a team of supers, in an agricultural state. Who'd a thunk it?" I chuckled, trying to regain my composure and change the subject.

"Why the ... extreme way to get us here?" Mom asked once the intros were all done. "And where is 'here' anyway?"

Farm Boy gestured to seats, so we could take a load off our tired feet. "Let's take the second question first. Our headquarters used to be a super-secret, super-secure, military command and control bunker. It doesn't exist even on official military documents. Since it was abandoned years ago, we took possession - through some very challenging legalities - and made it into our headquarters. No mortgage, low cost, and very well hidden. We've turned the living space into apartments for each of us, with a few extras for guests such as you. As to the way we brought you here, you were being followed," he reported as if reading a weather forecast. He seemed to not be able to stop himself from glancing at me.

"We know," I said calmly.

"By the MCO."

My eyebrows rose with my surprised expression. "How ... how do they find us so fast? "

Tractor shrugged. "They've got in's with most of the police departments around here, and they've got some world-class software that can cross-correlate records pretty quickly. They probably found your car rental agreement. If they hacked into traffic cameras and used a little image processing software, they could find you pretty easily."

"Stupid fucking Patriot Act!" I swore. I knew that damned thing wasn't good for domestic security so much as a means of helping control the populace through domestic spying.

"Kayda!" Mom snapped. "Language."

Tractor and Farm Boy laughed at Mom's and my interchange. "It's not like we don't hear a lot worse," Farm Boy said. "And she's probably at the 'rebellious teen' age."

"So they were following us," Mom grimaced. "Now they'll search to find ... this place."

"I doubt they'll even be looking, but if they do try, good luck to them," Tractor laughed. "Two shape-shifters we have on retainer disguised themselves as you two, took your places, and are giving the agents the runaround of a mother and daughter on a shopping trip. After that, they'll take your rental car and drive around a bunch, seeing the sights of lovely Sioux Falls, and then they'll go back to the hotel. At a convenient time, they'll change their forms and slip away from the tail."

"Wow!" I muttered. "I'm impressed. You guys think of everything."

Farm Boy laughed. "Let's just say this isn't the first time we've had to help someone who the MCO was tailing." He sighed. "A lot of the agents are pretty conscientious, but some are members of H1, and think nothing of using ... extreme methods to 'protect' the public from the mutant menace. It's the bad ones that give the MCO a bad name."

"What am I going to do?" I asked in a frightened, tiny voice. "If I leave here, I'll never be safe again." My eyes were misting, and my cheeks were damp. "I'm a prisoner here?"

A stunningly beautiful, deliciously curved woman, who I hadn't seen enter the room, walked over and gracefully eased herself to sit beside me, on the opposite side from Mom. She put her arm around me in a comforting manner. She was about eighteen, blonde, well-built, incredibly attractive, and had the sweetest looking cornflower-blue eyes, projecting a sweet innocence. "No, honey," she said in a calm, soothing voice. The look in her eyes seemed to scream, 'I want you', and she touched her tongue to her lips in a playful way, a gesture unseen by Mom - fortunately. She saw my reaction and winked with a grin and a silent chuckle. "We need to take care of a few legal formalities, and then you'll be able to go."

"But ... go where?" I exclaimed. "I can't go back home! They tried to kill me - twice!" I was getting more emotional than I realized, probably as a result of those damned female hormones and my stress level.

"Have you heard of Whateley Academy?" Farm Boy asked. I looked up at him, dumbfounded. He continued, with a smile, "It's a private boarding high school just for mutant teenagers. Because of some legalities, it's neutral territory, and the MCO has absolutely no jurisdiction or ability to interfere with the students. In situations like yours, it's a perfect place to finish school and remain safe."

I looked at Mom, seeing a ray of hope. She nodded, but then turned back to face the guys. "Where is it, and how do we get her in?"

Tractor answered, "It's located in Dunwich, New Hampshire." He winced. "You didn't ask, but it is kind of ... pricey."

Mom laughed. "You don't know our net worth, do you? We own a lot of land, with cattle and hogs and a feedlot, farm a lot of corn and wheat, own a trucking company for farm purposes, and own the implement dealership in town. I don't think finances will be too much of a problem."

The woman smiled warmly. "There you go. That's two questions answered. Now, as to how you get in, we'll help you fill out an application and get it faxed." She grinned at me. "But just to be sure, a few alumni wrote recommendations for you, too."

"You went there?" I asked.

All three of them nodded. "We all did," Tractor answered.

The woman beside me slapped my knee lightly and stood. "How about we get some dinner? I don't know about you, but it's late and I'm starving."

"You energizers are _always_ starving!" Farm Boy laughed. I saw a smile on Tractor's face, and when I glanced up at the woman, she was smiling, too. I figured that it was an inside joke.

"Ha, ha!" the woman said derisively. "Just because I'm a healthy, growing girl that out-eats both of you combined!" She turned to me. "By the way, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Cornflower." She had that playful flirting twinkle in her eyes again.

My eyes widened, and I couldn't help but look at her ... generous assets. She noticed. I put out my hand. "I'm Bran ... Kayda," I said, correcting myself quickly and hoping they hadn't noticed my slip. I smiled shyly. "I'm not quite used to ... the way things have changed." Damn, but she was pretty. If I was older and still male, I would have been very interested in her flirting. Maybe I could play that game, too. I gave her what I considered a 'come hither' look, and then winked at her.

I saw Cornflower's eyebrow rise at my wink and my comments, and I suddenly suspected that either she had figured out what I'd almost accidentally divulged, or if there was something she wasn't telling me.

We went to the dining room, which was set up like a small cafeteria. It was certainly larger than was necessary for three supers. "How many are in your team?" Mom asked.

Cornflower didn't turn from the warming table as she heaped food onto a plate on her lunch tray, just like in a cafeteria. "There are five of us here permanently - the three of us, Vanity Girl, and Twinkletoes. We've got lab staff here, a well, and we usually have two or three Capes interning from one of the bigger metro areas. Once in a while, we get a student between their junior and senior years."

"Capes? Interns?" I asked.

Farm Boy smiled at me, and I wanted to melt again. Damn hormones, and his damned glamour! "The formal name of the Whateley Club is the Future Superheroes of America, but everyone calls them the Capes. They're on the superhero career path. You'll find out all about that in a few days. And we're a relatively mild area for heavy-hitting, major super-villains, so some of the more metro super-groups send their newly-hired rookies here for training." He smiled. "We get a stipend for every intern we train, which helps pay the bills. And with training, it's a lot more likely that a rookie's first outing won't also be his or her last."

"I was wondering something," Mom chimed in as she started dishing up some food - in much smaller quantities than Cornflower - on her plate. "Isn't it too late to get an application for the spring term? That started five or six weeks ago for most schools around here. Won't Kayda be really far behind?"

Tractor shook his head. "Not really. Whateley is usually around eighty percent full, so there are always spots for late arrivals. And as to being behind, because of its unique nature, Whateley gets students in through the entire term. Allowances are always made."

"And Whateley has a unique term system. You will have just missed the special winter term, where the courses are more heavily oriented toward mutant-specific needs. The spring term, a regular school term, probably only started a week or so ago." The woman speaking from the doorway was a very handsome woman in her mid-twenties, attractive in a way that was timeless and not subject to the fickle styles and fashions of Hollywood. She was tall, nearly six feet, and even in casual clothes, appeared lithe and athletic in build. Her dark hair hung about her shoulders with the ends curled under, and feathered in front, neatly framing her slightly-oval face. Her eyes sparkled like golden-yellow orbs illuminating the room, pools of warmth that instantly calmed and soothed like sunshine on a spring day. Her lips were perfectly formed and proportioned, lusciously inviting to be brushed against the lips of another, and colored with a light maroon tint to announce to passers-by that the woman was sophisticated and mostly serious, but perhaps a tiny bit naughty. Her super-suit was a stylish white, pink, and purple ensemble that looked so utterly girly that I felt embarrassed, even though she looked like dynamite in it.

She stepped briskly into the room and extended her hand. "I'm Vanity Girl," she said in a rich contralto that, even if she was trying, couldn't be anything but seductive. "Welcome to our humble abode."

I returned her handshake. "I'm Kayda. Uh, thanks."

Mom decided that she needed to speak as well. "We really appreciate your hospitality. With everything that's happened, it's been rather ... hectic."

Vanity Girl chuckled with the others; calling things hectic was quite an understatement. "Do you have any idea of what your powers are?"

I shook my head. "I have no idea. I've got spirits in my head, and they told me that I'll be able to do magic and manifest a white buffalo."

A tall, slender, well-dressed gentleman strode easily and gracefully into the room and went straight to the serving line. He looked like he was in his early to mid-thirties. His outfit looked like nothing so much as a tuxedo, and his expression radiated charm. "Ah, you must be Kayda," he said, smiling to me. "I heard you were coming to pay us a visit." He turned to Mom, and when he went to shake her hand, he kissed it instead, causing Mom to blush. "Surely you can't be Kayda's mother. You look far too young."

"I'm June Franks," Mom replied, half blushing and half-smiling at the compliment.

"They call me Twinkletoes," the man responded. "I'm the resident old codger, and the last of the founding members of the League."

Cornflower took a break from shoveling vast quantities of food in her mouth, and stood up. She gave me a quick smile. "Since the 'old farts' won't do it, I suppose it's the duty of the resident youngster to introduce everyone else." She elicited a chuckle from the others in the room.

"Compared to me," I said, spontaneously deciding to add a little ribbing since Cornflower seemed to be teasing toward me, "you're ancient, too! You must be, what, a whole two or three years older than me? That's so over-the-hill!"

Cornflower shot me a look that playfully said, 'I'll get you for that!' After a brief headshake, she continued, "Our interns are Wish List, a rookie from the Salt Lake Supers," she paused while Wish List half-waved at me. "Card Trick is from the Twin Cities Overseers." Another pause for the girl to wave at me, "and Ping Pong is interning from the Cajun Criminal Counter Force in New Orleans."

Wish List and Card Trick both looked eighteen or nineteen, but that was where the similarities ended. Wish List was a nice-looking brunette, while Card Trick looked like an average perky blonde. Compared to Vanity Girl, Cornflower, and Card Trick, Wish List seemed average, but my old Brandon brain reminded me that she'd be the prettiest girl in my old school. It was just unfair to compare her to the exceptional beauty of her fellow mutants. The third intern, Ping Pong, looked like an average high-school senior guy; he wasn't nearly as physically imposing as Tractor or Farm Boy. He must have been suffering in the bitter cold of the north-central plains states.

Farm Boy stood, and gestured for Cornflower to sit. "I'll finish the intros, so you can get your face back in that ginormous plate of yours," he laughed to Cornflower, who made a face at him, but then resumed eating.

"Don here," he pointed at a nerdy-looking guy, "is our resident gadgeteer and devisor, who provides us with all the toys we use."

"And break," Don protested jokingly.

"Yvonne and Javier are our lab techs, who handle just about everything, and our resident medic is Dr. Winkler. Romeo Foxtrot is our comm guru, but he's on duty in the comm shack. And we have a couple of others who I'm sure you'll meet later, who work evening and night shifts for comm and operations."

I looked over the newly-introduced people. The 'gadget guru' was one of the older members of the League; I'd guess his age at mid-forties, and the other old guy was the doctor. Yvonne was a handsome woman about Mom's age, while Javier, the other lab tech, was Hispanic and in his mid-twenties.

As Twinkletoes joined us at one of the two large tables, I glanced around. "What do you guys all do? Powers, I mean?"

Farm Boy smiled, and I felt that attraction aura at the same time a wave of fear coursed through me. "I'm stronger than normal, and I do telekinesis."

Tractor laughed. "And you fly. Don't forget that you fly. Sort of." He got a scowl from Farm Boy, which made him laugh harder. "I'm what's called a PK superman. My psychokinetic field gives me super strength and protection, and it is a perfect reflector for all attacks directed at me."

Cornflower paused in her ravenous eating. "I'm an energizer, and I send pressure waves out, like big shoves." She smiled at me again in what seemed to be a friendly, flirty game, and then resumed feeding on the massive plate of food before her.

Vanity girl took her turn. "I'm a magic user, and an empath, and Twinkletoes there," she indicated the older member who had a mouthful of chicken sandwich, "is a warper and telepath." She looked at the table of interns. "Wish List is an energy absorber and package-deal psychic, Card Trick is a magic user, and Ping Pong is your basic fire-ball energizer and empath."

We settled down to small talk as we ate. Periodically, I'd glance at Cornflower and make a silly face at her, trying to get her to smirk or chuckle, while she did the same to me. Mom noticed, and just shook her head.

After we ate, Cornflower presented Mom with a folder. "You can start filling this application packet out while we take Kayda for some basic powers testing tomorrow." She turned her head slightly, and I saw her gazing at me again. When our eyes met, she grinned, because she knew that I'd been gawking at her.

"Powers testing?" Mom and I asked simultaneously.

Tractor nodded. "Every mutant has different powers, like manifester, energizer, exemplar, regen, psychic, magic, and so on. Power testing determines which you have, so your powers can be listed on their MID, or mutant identification card. It's an international requirement that anyone flying or traveling across national borders has an MID. In the US, anyone traveling by air must have an MID. So we do some testing, we'll get you a temporary MID, and you can travel to Whateley."

I shrugged. "That sounds harmless," I said as I took my tray to a table, trying my best to sound confident and calm.

After dinner, we were shown to our rooms, and then the whole group sat in the lounge area watching a movie. I noticed that Tractor was cuddling with Vanity Girl, to whom I'd been introduced at dinner. It seemed odd to that the superhero group would have relationships, which could lead to jealousy, and breakups might shatter a team. Plus, a super might be inclined more to help an injured partner than to fulfill his or her role in the team. It didn't make sense to me, but then again, everything I'd known about relationships was now completely worthless, and I had to start learning from a whole new perspective. That thought slammed home the persistent dichotomy in my thinking - I had male thoughts from my fifteen years of experience conflicting with only a few days of my body and brain being flooded with female hormones. No matter what the hormones were trying to tell me, my old memories couldn't be ignored.

The movie was an oldie, and I really didn't like it, but it was a distraction, especially when Cornflower and I traded barbs at the movie plot, actions, and actors. The interns joined in, but when Cornflower and Wish List started to direct their comments to double-entendre and suggestive female-oriented commentary, Ping Pong dropped out immediately. I was about to quit as well, but a glance from Cornflower practically dared me to continue. Our little game entertained the others while we laughed and tried to outdo each other. Twinkletoes, Farm Boy, Tractor, and Vanity Girl seemed a lot less approachable, because they were older, but Cornflower and the interns, being much closer to my age, were easy to interact with. I felt much more relaxed after an evening of fun, and glad that Cornflower was helping me feel welcome and safe so that I could de-stress.

By nine, I was so tired that I was ready to go to bed. I figured it was because we'd been on the run since Saturday, and it was wearing on both Mom and me, although Mom tried to keep up a brave front. One of the supers went out and got some snacks that I personally liked, and he got Mom a disposable cell phone, figuring that the MCO might be tracking her own phone. As a precaution, Mom powered off her phone, even though we figured that the cell phones wouldn't get good reception this far underground.

Tatanka showed me the spirit of the squirrel, tasnaheca, and taught me that the squirrel taught preparation, planning, and conservation. This seemed pretty obvious and in line with Western cultural teaching of the significance of these animals' traits, but I didn't know that the squirrel also represented adaptability. Tatanka asked what trait of tasnaheca was most important to me. When I didn't answer, he told me that being adaptable was the most important lesson to learn. I had changed. Life around me was changing, and I had no control over those changes. I had to adapt, as tasnaheca adapted, so I could thrive.

Tatanka told me that I would one day meet the animal spirits directly. First, though, Tatanka said I would need to learn much more about nature and the balance of life.

When Tatanka finished, or possibly before but when Wakan Tanka became impatient, she took me to the fire circle and we continued to learn about medicinal herbs and plants. She told me, but didn't show me, that some combinations of plants and herbs would induce a dream-walk. I asked if that was like a drug high, and she puzzled a bit before she acknowledged that yes, it was a drug high. Great - she wanted me to distribute controlled substances now, too!

She also knew magic, and she told me the types of spells she would teach me. I wanted to start learning immediately, but she told me to be patient. I would learn in plenty of time. The way she phrased that made me nervous. In plenty of time for _what_? She'd once hinted that these were dark times for the People, and I was to help them. Now she was hinting that I'd need the skills she was teaching. A movie plot couldn't have this much foreshadowing if it tried. Together with the crash course in evil spirits, I had a very bad feeling, despite her repeated assurances.

**********

Saturday, March 3, 2007.

Sioux Falls League Headquarters

At breakfast, I was more relaxed; another night with Wakan Tanka and Tatanka in dream-space left me feeling energized and ready for a new day. I was enjoying a full plate when Tractor smiled at me and suggested that I take it easy. I frowned.

"You've got power testing. A full stomach doesn't go well with power testing," he said with a grin.

"How hard could it be?" I asked, which received chuckles and guffaws around the table. Okay, so there was another omen of something bad in my future. And here I thought power testing would be harmless.

Harmless, indeed! It was a serious torture session. I was tested to see how I healed, since I told them that I'd completely recovered from being nearly beaten to death only a few days prior. That led to a deliberate cut on me to see how fast it healed. It healed in about ten minutes, leaving not even a scar, but it hurt like hell. The technician running some of the tests took a few notes, and we continued. There were blood samples, as expected, and tests that seemed bizarre. In one, I was on both ends of trying the psychic 'guess the card shape' game. I did lousy, which meant that I had no psychic powers.

I was shown a table full of parts, and told to reassemble it. After ten minutes, the technician told me to stop, and was amazed that I'd correctly deduced that there were parts from six mechanisms, and had reassembled five of them properly and very quickly. Further, I assembled them in a little different way than the test expected, and all of the mechanisms worked at least as well as they were supposed to. What I didn't know is that the sixth mechanism couldn't work unless I was a devisor, someone who could apparently cause the laws of physics to be altered, so there was no reason for me to know how or what to assemble. If I had assembled the last set of parts into a working thing, then it would have shown that I was a devisor of some type, and I'd have been subjected to even more testing in that area. In the second part of the test, I was shown several mechanisms on another table, and asked to identify what they did and how they worked. Again, some of the mechanisms were trivial to figure out, while others took a little experimentation and hands-on observation, but in the end, I got eight out of the ten correct. When the testing was done, they rated me as a Gadgeteer 3 or 4, which meant that I had almost an instinctive knowledge of machinery, and the technician admitted that the rating may be low because they weren't equipped for full gadgeteer testing. I grinned at his comment, and the technician noticed. "What?" he asked.

"I've been working on things since I can remember. When I was four or five, I took apart my Mom's grandfather clock to see how it worked, and then put it back together."

The technician frowned. "So part of your mechanical aptitude isn't part of your mutation?"

"I don't think so. I've got a car completely apart back home, including the engine and transmission, and I'm reassembling it, or I was," I corrected myself, feeling a sting of regret that I might never get to finish the project car, "without any instructions or shop manuals."

The technician made some notes in my folder, which I assumed were to help assess my skills. "I suspect that your mutation enhanced this skill."

I was tested to see if I could do any magic, which was interesting, mostly because Card Trick came in with some odd stones and crystals on strings. She held them up to me, and wrote down the reactions. After consulting her notes a bit, she put down the clipboard. "According to my readings, you have magic potential, and it seems to be highest in manifesting and healing. Can you manifest anything?"

I closed my eyes for a silent conversation with Tatanka. When he agreed, I thought about him being real, and he appeared in the room, startling Card Trick. She looked at the furry white buffalo, and then walked around, holding her crystals as she gazed intently at what they were telling her. "Can you do anything else with it?" she asked after she was finished her examination.

I smiled, and then thought about him being smaller, like a poodle. With a swirl of white mist, he shrank until he was the same size as a twenty-pound dog. Once more, she scrutinized him with her 'instruments'. Another thought, and he was gone. Card Trick looked at her crystals. "Bring him back, please, if you can. I want to test something." She walked out of the room, and returned with Tractor. By that time, I had Tatanka, at about half-size, by my side, and I was petting him, which surprised Card Trick and Tractor.

"Tractor is a brick, which means he's nearly invulnerable. More specifically, he's a PK brick, which means he has a psychokinetic field protecting him from most harm," Card Trick explained. "The readings I get from your buffalo are very strange, so I want to see what he can do to Tractor."

"You want me to have Tatanka _hurt_ Tractor?" I asked, astonished.

"I need to see if your buffalo can penetrate a PK field. According to my crystals, he should be able to."

I looked at Tatanka while Tractor took a position across the room. "Can you lightly poke him with a horn, but not hurt him?" I asked him in Lakota, which drew puzzled looks from Card Trick and Tractor.

Tatanka grinned. "I will try." The fact that Tatanka answered me aloud in Lakota further astounded the two.

"Ready," Tractor said confidently. "Give it your best shot."

Tatanka ambled leisurely to Tractor, then, after glancing at me, he swung his head quickly at Tractor, poking at him with one of his horns. To the amazement of all of us, Tractor most of all, Tractor was hurled across the room, with his shirt torn and a little blood coming from his side.

"That's ... impossible!" Card Trick stammered. "He went through a PK field like it wasn't even there, and he injured a brick!"

"Pretty good," Tractor said, slapping me on the shoulder, even though the motion caused him to wince in pain.

"I asked him to take it easy," I admitted sheepishly.

"That was taking it easy?" Tractor stuttered. "God, if he'd have been going full-force, he could have seriously injured me."

"If Kayda was in danger," Tatanka said solemnly in English, "I would have killed you."

Card Trick's eyes widened when Tatanka spoke to me, and she frantically scribbled more notes. "We're going to have to talk about this one. I'm not sure if I should put you down as a manifestor and wizard, or as a wizard and avatar." She wrinkled her nose, which made her look even cuter. "Your powers are kind of a puzzle."

After that, I played dodge ball in a strange room with lots of pitching machines. I lost pretty badly, I might add, and those balls came out of the machines hard! I was given weight tests, and found that I could lift more than I did when I was Brandon and did weight training. My limit was about 270 pounds. I ran on a treadmill; my speed was about thirty percent faster than a baseline could attain, and I didn't tire for over forty minutes.

**********

Mom and I sat in the cafeteria with most of the group. I looked around anxiously, hoping to find a clue about what they thought my powers were. Vanity Girl had some notes in front of her.

"Well?" I asked impatiently and nervously.

"We have a preliminary assessment," Vanity Girl said with a smile. "Our rather simplistic tests rate you as an Exemplar 2, a Wizard 3/1, which means you are highly rated for your manifestation and healing, but lower wizard power otherwise. You have some regenerative or healing power, as demonstrated by the healing you did from multiple broken bones, so I'm putting down Regen 1 for your temporary card." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure if your healing was due to regen or your own magic potential. You'll need more testing at Whateley for that, but I'm listing that under wizard for now. You are a natural mechanic, so we're rating you a Gadgeteer 3, although that might be low, because it appears there's some innate ability from basic curiosity and mechanical skill, apparently from a young age, and that your mutation greatly augmented this skill."

Mom took a moment to glare at me; she hadn't forgotten about finding me playing happily in the middle of pieces of her grandfather clock.

"And you have an avatar spirit, so I'd ..."

"Two spirits," I interrupted her. I could hear jaws dropping around the table; the looks of disbelief told everything.

"That's very unlikely, unless you're a very powerful avatar," Vanity Girl explained skeptically. "Very, very few avatars have two spirits, and almost nobody has two completely independent spirits! You must be mistaken."

I smiled and shook my head. "I have two spirits. Both of them came to me, and I talk to them in the dream-world."

"Tell me something about these who you think are your spirits." The technician sounded more than a little skeptical

"I _know_ they are my spirits," I countered angrily. Why wouldn't they believe me? "The first is Ptesanwi, the spirit of the White Buffalo Calf Woman, who lets me talk to Wakan Tanka, and the second is Tatanka, the white buffalo spirit."

Vanity Girl frowned, and turned to one of the interns. "Wish List, you're pretty high as an esper, aren't you?"

The intern Wish List nodded. "Yeah." Damn, but it seemed like all the mutant gals around here were stunningly gorgeous.

Vanity Girl turned back to me. "Would you mind if Wish List does a psychic probe of you, to explore your spirits?"

I glanced at Mom, who shrugged with an 'I don't know' expression. Cornflower nodded with a slight smile. "It won't hurt, but it will tell us a lot about your spirit or spirits."

I looked around the table and saw nothing but support from the supers. "What do I have to do?" I asked nervously.

"Nothing. Just relax." Wish List's gaze seemed to be fixed somewhere behind me, almost like she was staring through me. I could somehow _feel_ something starting to push into my head, into my consciousness. It felt a little odd, but not uncomfortable.

Without warning, the presence was slapped away, hard. It was simply gone, and I had a mental image of Tatanka standing atop a hill, glaring angrily as he snorted with fury.

"What happened?" I asked Tatanka.

"The girl was intruding in our dream-world. I pushed her out to protect you."

Wish List had been physically thrown back, knocking her chair over, and she looked stunned, holding her head and wincing in pain. "What did you do?" she complained. "That hurt!"

I flinched from the accusation. "Tatanka didn't want you in my head," I explained.

"Can you make him stop, to let her in?" Vanity Girl asked.

"I ... I don't know," I replied. "I can try."

"Tatanka, I need to ask something of you."

"What is it, Wihakayda?"

"The girl needs to get into our dream space. I would like you to let her in."

Tatanka snorted. "Is it safe?"

"I believe she's trustworthy, and it will be safe."

"Very well, Wihakayda. I will not block her."

"Tatanka won't block you this time," I said to Wish List and the others.

She'd apparently noticed that I'd zoned out for a moment. "Were you talking to your spirit, er, spirits?"

"I used to talk to them only in my dreams, but now, I can close my eyes and talk to them. Wakan Tanka told me that I'd learn to talk to them anytime even without closing my eyes."

"Okay. I'd like you to close your eyes and talk to them, one spirit at a time," she directed. "I'll be listening psychically."

"Don't be surprised when you find yourself in my dream-world," I replied with a smile. I sat back and closed my eyes. In a fraction of a second, I was in dream-space, even though I was awake.

"Wakan Tanka," I asked as I sat down by the fire. Wish List was sitting near me, but not too closely.

She emerged from one of the tepees and sat beside me. We looked like twins now. "What do you need, Wihakayda? Why do some seek to know that we are joined?" She spoke in Lakota, as usual.

"It is important for my life in the real world that people understand how we are joined."

Wakan Tanka nodded. "It is a strange request, but I know you believe it safe."

"Where is Tatanka?" I asked.

In moments, the white buffalo walked through a gap between two tepees and lay down beside me; he was St. Bernard sized this time. I couldn't help scratching his back and behind his ears, like he was a loveable, cute, big puppy. I was getting very used to Tatanka, and I think he liked when I treated him as a cuddly pet. "This stranger in your mind - is it safe? Should I block her?" He spoke English, though he could have easily spoken Lakota. I suspected that he knew what this was about from my thoughts, and was doing his part to convince them that he and Wakan Tanka were two separate spirits.

"It is safe. It is to help me in the real world. Some people who are trusted must know about my spirits and other powers."

"Then it is good that Wakan Tanka has not yet instructed you in all her ways," Tatanka replied, in Lakota this time. "Like wiciteglega, the raccoon, disguise and misdirection is important to you. When one knows all your capabilities, that one also knows all your weaknesses. Learn from wiciteglega, and disguise who you really are and what you can truly do.

"Tatanka speaks wisely, Wihakayda. Even though you trust the stranger in your mind, I do not. It would be dangerous for one to know all we can do as Ptesanwi, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka added.

"I understand. I thank you for help me. We will talk often I hope, because I have much to learn. There is much that I do not understand, and I need to remedy that situation."

"You are wise to understand what you don't know yet, and to be willing to learn," Tatanka said with a smile. I gave him another scratch. I couldn't resist the cuddly guy.

I snapped my eyes open and looked anxiously at Wish List. "Well?" I asked.

Wish List was shaking her head. "There are two individual spirits in her. My first impression is that they are very high-level spirits as well, at least Class Two. Maybe Class Three. I didn't' understand what one of them was saying to Kayda, though, because it was in a different language."

I smiled smugly. "I speak to them in Lakota."

"That's impossible!" Vanity Girl exclaimed, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"Nevertheless, she has two spirits - a woman and a buffalo, and they both seem very strong." She frowned. "There's something else about Kayda and the woman spirit, but I couldn't tell what it was."

Farm Boy stared at me, incredulous. "That's not possible. How the hell are we supposed to rate something this rare?"

"And I think the buffalo spirit is the thing she manifests," Vanity Girl continued.

Jaws dropped. "What?"

"Since we can't test her properly, I suggest we rate her as an Avatar 2."

"Only a two when she has two apparently high-level spirits? Shouldn't she be a 4 or a 5?"

"I really don't think we want to call attention to this, do you?" Wish List commented. "At least not until someone understands it better."

"I suppose you're right," Tractor sighed. He wrinkled his brow. "Is the buffalo spirit the same one that gored me half to death?"

"It's just a flesh wound," I commented in a smug British accent.

The technician who'd been assisting added, "Tis but a scratch."

A few of the crew chuckled, while the younger interns didn't get it. "So much for their cultural background," I chuckled at their befuddled stares. Cornflower winked at me with a knowing smile; obviously, she understood the reference.

"What _are_ they teaching the youth of today?" Mom added her comment.

After a few more jokes and chuckles, Tractor returned to his original question. "_Is_ the buffalo spirit the same one you manifest?"

"I ... I think so. Yeah, I'm fairly certain of it," I said.

That brought another round of open-mouthed stares directed my way. Finally, Tractor broke the awkward silence. "Okay, let's call it an Avatar 2 and let the pros figure it out. I think we have everything we need to get a temporary MID from the MCO office."

I blanched when he mentioned MCO. "Uh, does that mean I need to go ...?" I couldn't hide the panic in my voice.

Cornflower smiled, placing her hand on my arm to calm me. "No. We have the data, so our lawyer will handle that. With the MID, you can fly to Boston, and take a train to Dunwich."

"I know someone at Whateley that would probably be very interested in her, since she has Native American spirits," Vanity Girl noted. "Mr. Lodgeman. If he's still there, that is. You know, the guy who has the Native American culture group?"

"Mr. Lodgeman?" The name meant nothing to me.

"I believe Mr. Lodgeman is a shaman, and I believe he's somewhat of an expert on Native American lore and mythology. He's one of the trustees of the academy."

"Yes. I think we should call him," Wish List said to me. She _had_ been paying close attention to what I was thinking. That disturbed me, because now she probably knew that I was transgendered by my mutation. On the other hand, I knew that Tatanka could block psychic probes if I was in danger. "I'm sure he will be very interested."

"I guess. But won't I meet him at Whateley?" I asked. I was starting to suspect that there was something they weren't telling me.

Farm Boy and Cornflower exchanged a glance, and then looked at me. "It'll take a few days to get your MID, and you can't travel without one, especially since your eye color is too distinctive for you to pass as a Native American. They mark you as a mutant. And with the complaints to the MCO from H1, your file will probably get more than a little extra scrutiny. I think it's safer to keep you in hiding until you've got the MID."

"How long?"

"To be honest, I don't know. Since this is a small office, they're not as quick as the larger cities, but they usually deliver an MID within a week."

"Another week?" I asked, astounded. "School started already! I'm _already_ behind!"

"You and your mom can stay here with us while you wait, and we'll help to learn more about what you can do."

"As long as it doesn't involve me getting gored by that buffalo again," Tractor said with a grin.

I sighed heavily. "I guess I don't have any other options, do I?"

Vanity Girl shook her head. "I don't think so. Not any good ones, at least."

"Shit. It's bad enough starting in the middle of the year, but now, by the time I get to Whateley, all the new kids from this term will already know each other, they'll have made friends, and I'll just be 'the weird new kid'! I'll be behind in classes!" I was starting to really doubt the wisdom of going to Whateley if I arrived late. Once, long ago, I'd been the 'new kid', and it really sucked to feel like an outsider for a very long time because all the groups and friendships were already firmly established. Thanks to those stupid girl hormones, I was getting emotional again, and my eyes were leaking. I hated what hormones were doing to my emotions.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Farm Boy tried to reassure me.

"Oh yeah? Do you know what it's like to be in a group of people, and know that you're alone because all the rest have already formed their little cliques and groups? Do you know how hard it is to get in a social group when it's already set?" I was nearly in tears, and almost screaming incoherently. The group stared at me, concerned about my emotional breakdown.

Mom scooted her chair closer and wrapped me in a 'mommy hug'. I started crying. "My life sucks! I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't want to change into this, or get spirits in my head, or become a mutant! Everything I knew and liked has been taken from me!"

Cornflower scooted on the other side of me, joining Mom in hugging me, while I cried and cried, until they half-carried me to my bed, where I fell asleep from physical and emotional exhaustion from the day's activities.

I was sitting on the log, my face in my hands as I bawled. Wakan Tanka wasn't there when I walked into the camp, and I felt alone, just like I knew I'd feel if I even got to Whateley.

I felt an arm around my shoulder and a hand gently touching my other shoulder. "Wihakayda, are you that upset that you have us?"

I was taken aback by her question. "I ... I don't think so," I finally said. "No. I know I can always count on you and Tatanka, even when everything else is crap. All I have to do is dream, and I'm in a land surrounded by beauty and peace. It feels ... refreshing."

"Then why did you complain that you didn't want any of this?" Tatanka asked from my other side.

"I ... I was feeling sorry for myself. When I was young, we moved, and I lost all my old friends. I had to make new ones. It was really tough to be left out of groups that had already been established. It wasn't easy to fit in when everyone else already had best friends. It ... hurt, a lot. Now, I'm a freak, and I'm in the same position."

"Why?"

"Because I changed from a guy into a girl! Can you imagine what it will be like to be with other students, knowing that someone might be psychic and find out my secret? I'd be ostracized, or worse. I won't know who I can trust."

"You are strong, Wihakayda. You will do well."

Tatanka nodded his agreement. "You must be like igmu taka, the cougar. When he hunts, he must be very patient so he does not startle and frighten away his prey. If he is not patient, he will go hungry. In the same way, you must be patient waiting for what is to come."

"You make it sound easy," I said angrily. "It's not. The only way I can see myself doing well is if I put up my shields to keep people from hurting me."

"What do you mean, put up shields?" Wakan Tanka asked.

"I mean, not let anyone close to me. Not show anyone any emotional attachment or friendship. Not letting anyone get in a position where they could hurt me ... again."

"You describe a life without joy, without happiness, without companionship, without so much."

"No, I describe a life without pain, without heartache, without betrayal."

"You have to risk pain and heartache to have joy and companionship."

"After the betrayals I've experienced? No thanks!'

Wakan Tanka pulled my head onto her shoulder and held me the way Mom did when I was little, letting me cry on her shoulder as she comforted me. After a bit, when I wasn't crying any more, she guided me in making some tea by myself, and then she and I drank the soothing beverage.

"There is another animal spirit you must learn from, Wihakayda," Tatanka said softly. "Pispiza, the prairie dog. Pispiza lives in a connected community. Alone, they would perish quickly. As a community, they are strong enough to survive."

"So, you're saying that I _have_ to be part of a community, that it would be bad for me to isolate myself emotionally from others?" I asked him. "That's not easy."

Wakan Tanka smiled. "You learn quickly, Wihakayda." She held me some more, and I fell asleep in her arms, feeling protected and safe.

**********

Somewhere in the Black Hills

The giant snake creature, over forty feet long, and easily six feet in diameter, with glowing red eyes and fang-lined maws that could easily swallow a man whole, coiled deep in a cavern splattered with blood and human remains "What must I do, my father?" it asked in the old tongue.

In two other tunnels elsewhere in the mountains, similar snake creatures had been awakened, and they repeated the question in turn.

Deep in the HPARC, in the most secure isolation tunnel, the giant serpent demon Unhcegila spoke. "You," he said, causing a thunderous echo in one of the caverns, "must find the one, she who hold the spirit of my enemy. She is young, and inexperienced, and you must destroy her before she can gain power and learn how to destroy us."

One of the snake creatures nodded its head. "It shall be done, my father."

"Do not fail."

The snake creature shook its head. "I have not failed you before. I will not fail you now. She who holds the spirit shall die."

A thunder sounded in a second cavern. "You must recover the sacred sphere from where the People have it hidden, so that when the time is right, I may control it. If she who holds the spirit should live, I will need the energy to defeat her. If she should die, I will use the magic it produces to destroy all who would stand in my way, until I reign supreme over all spirits."

"It shall be done, my father."

Again, an echo sounded in the third cave. "You must journey here, and weaken the barriers which hold me captive. Burrow through the rock, being careful to leave no trace of your coming. I will direct you, and tell you how to weaken the barriers. It will be slow, and you must be patient."

"Yes, my father."

**********

Black Hills, In the HPARC Control Center

A technician looked up from a monitor. "Sir?" he interrupted the research director, who was typing his weekly status report.

"What is it, Carl?" the research director asked, focusing his attention immediately on the technician.

"Sensors are reading some type of psychic signature down in the eight-thousand foot security level."

Dr. Ernst Schmidt's attention was completely focused on the technician. "What kind of psychic wave, and did it originate inside the security level, or from the outside?"

"Both," Carl reported immediately. "Alternating incoming and outgoing."

"And it penetrated the barriers and wards?"

"Yes, sir."

Dr. Schmidt frowned. "See if you can isolate where in the security level the wave originated." He thought of something. "And get a message to Hazel Two Bears at the research center at Crazy Horse that I need her to have a look at the data to see if it makes any sense to her. With the crazy stuff we're holding down there, it might be something Native American that she can decipher." Schmidt exhaled heavily. He really, really hated it when his supposedly isolated captives pulled some kind of crap like this. He would have preferred a quiet term supervising these unholy, nightmarish relics and spirits until he was transferred to another assignment.. Schmidt thought a moment. "Better yet, let her know I'll be coming over in the tube with our results. Print out everything you have on the psychic energy. And get Harrington in here to cover for me while I'm out."

At times like this, Schmidt was grateful for the high-speed underground tube-transport connecting HPARC with the Native American research center at the Crazy Horse Native American Center and College. Few knew that the university housed, in underground labs and libraries, a very thorough research team into Native American paranormal activities and beings. If anyone could help decipher what was happening in the security level, it was the NACAC, and more specifically, Dr. Two Bears.

**********

Sunday, March 4, 2007
Sioux Falls League Headquarters

Everyone was watching me cautiously as I went about my morning routine, as if I were nitroglycerin ready to explode. I didn't remember going to bed, but this morning, I couldn't complain about the accommodations, even though I felt depressed and penned-in. The rooms were generously sized, with a large flat-screen television and a DVD player. A common lounge area near the cafeteria had another television, and a bookcase displayed a wide assortment of movies. I didn't watch anything; I just plopped in an overstuffed chair and stared blankly at the blackness of the inactive television screen. I felt as dark as the screen.

"Morning," Mom said as she slid gracefully into a chair beside mine. "Sleep well?" Cornflower came in behind her, and took another seat by me. I couldn't help wondering why she was there. Call it a newly-discovered sense of doom, but I didn't have a good feeling about her presence.

"I guess. At least I had visions of Tatanka and Wakan Tanka to keep me company. Wakan Tanka is trying to teach me her magic and medicine skills."

"That sounds handy," Cornflower said, looking at me with a twinkle in her eyes. I caught myself staring at her again, and quickly averted my gaze. She was just so damned beautiful, and my male instincts couldn't help but appreciate her good looks. At the same time, she was warm and approachable, and fun. She made it an effort to stay gloomy.

"Speaking of which, there are some herbs and supplies she told me I need to get, and I need to make myself a medicine pouch. Do you suppose we could go out shopping for that stuff?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"We might be able to get one of our interns to pick up a few things for you if you need," Cornflower interjected. "It might even be possible to go out if the MCO surveillance is gone."

"I need to thank whoever picked up our luggage from the motel," Mom noted appreciatively. "It's nice to have clean clothes and my toiletries." She smiled sardonically. "Seems like we've gotten in the habit of leaving stuff behind a lot lately."

"Yeah, I noticed my bag in my room," I muttered. For a while, I sat in silence, brooding. "Mom," I finally broke my silence to ask the question I'd wondered about since I'd reviewed how Mom had filled out my application to Whateley, "why did you put 'other' for sexual orientation on my application?"

Mom smiled. "You saw that, huh? To be honest, if you hadn't brought it up, we were going to," she said, glancing at Cornflower. "They didn't have a spot for 'not sure'."

I was right in my sense of foreboding. "And for effects of transformation, you put that I've changed from a male into a female? Are you trying to get me killed by gay-bashers or something?"

Mom patted me on the hand. "I worked on the application packet while you were doing your testing yesterday, so it could get faxed in. According to the instructions for the forms, that information is private and won't be disseminated. It's supposed to be there to help you with your cottage and room assignment to minimize conflicts."

"You'll almost certainly be staying in Poe Cottage," Cornflower said enigmatically.

"Poe ... Cottage?"

"They aren't called dorms, but rather cottages. They residence cottages are all named after famous American authors - Dickinson, Hawthorne, Melville, Whitman, Poe, Twain, and Emerson. Hawthorne is a co-ed dorm for students with ... extreme difficulties controlling their powers, and those with pretty serious GSD."

"GSD."

"Gross Structural Dystrophy. It's a term for rather ... extreme ... mutations. You know the type on the show about the MCO?" She winced as she said that, as if anything to do with 'Tales of the MCO' was toxic, and the distaste by others toward extreme mutations offensive.

"Yeah, I know about that. Is that really a problem?"

Cornflower nodded. "Sometimes, but just because they have GSD doesn't make them less human, or less in need of friends and social interaction. Some people think that it does, though."

"Oh." That was a lot to think about, especially after years of being 'brainwashed' by news and shows like Tales of the MCO'.

"Anyway, to continue, Melville is the newest and largest cottage, and is co-ed." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "It's where the hoity-toity social climbers and snobs live. You know the type - the kids who think they're better than everyone else and have the attitude and money to match?" I nodded in understanding. "Girls live in Dickson and Whitman, and boys in Twain and Emerson. Poe is another special co-ed cottage." Cornflower glanced at Mom.

There must have been something in her expression or gesture that Mom saw but I didn't. "I need to use the restroom," she announced suddenly, and just as suddenly, left the room, leaving me alone with Cornflower.

Cornflower turned her chair so she was looking at me. "First of all, since you're a fellow Poesie, let's drop the formality. My name is Debra." She smiled. "And yes, I said Poesie. It's our nickname for those who reside in Poe Cottage."

"What makes you think I'll be in Poe?" I asked, sounding more than a little perplexed.

"Because you were honest enough to mark your application as transgendered from your mutation. Poe has a little secret - a very well-kept, and important, secret." She glanced at the door to make sure no-one was listening in. That act by itself made me nervous. "Poe is the place the changelings, like you, and the very gay and lesbian and bi kids go. It helps cut down on sexual harassment and gay-bashing on campus."

I frowned. "I didn't mark it. My Mom did," I replied a little angrily. Then something occurred to me. "Wait, you said you 'fellow Poesie'. You were a Poesie, too?"

Debra nodded with a sly grin.

Something in her posture and expression, and earlier words, clicked. "Are you telling me that you're ... like me, too? That your mutation did to you what mine did to me?" I was astonished to think that I wasn't the only one who'd switched sides in the gender war.

"No, I lived in Poe for the other reason, but there were others who were changed like you." She glanced around. "That's why your Mom wanted me to talk to you because I lived with friends who _did_ change genders because of their mutation. I understand, more than the average person. Last night, I'd noticed that you weren't acting very feminine, like you weren't comfortable with your body and a few of the things you'd said, or started to say, gave me more clues. I put two and two together, and after you essentially collapsed from your angst last night, I asked your Mom." She smiled. "Now, as to the nature of Poe, it has to stay secret, both here and on campus. Especially on campus. Like any school, there are bullies, rednecks, and other intolerant types, and they wouldn't think twice about beating the crap out of someone who is gay or transgendered."

"What ...? Who ...? Before, who ...?" I stammered, trying to frame the question in a non-offensive way.

Debra smiled. "I was a geeky little nerd girl with thick glasses, an overbite, and really bad acne. Then I mutated, and," she gestured, sweeping her hands down to accentuate her figure, "ta-da. Much better, don't you think?"

Since she'd essentially invited me to gawk at her, I took the opportunity. Damn, but she was hot. "How ...? I mean, if I'm in Poe, how do I know which girls are lesbians and which are changelings? I would think that changelings would still be interested in girls."

Debra laughed. "Some are, but based on how Tractor described your first impression of Farm Boy, I'd say that your mind may have changed a little bit, and it's being further influenced by that cocktail of female hormones sloshing around in your bloodstream." She smiled. "In answer to your first question, all the Transgender students room together in one area on each floor, to support one another. By the way, your blood tests show normal levels of female hormones, without too much of those pesky male ones."

She stood suddenly. "I've got to run. We have a public appearance at lunch, and I have to get ready." She patted me on the shoulder, and then walked to the door, leaving me with a lot to consider. "Any time you need to talk, I'm here for you." She turned to leave, but paused once more. "Have you given any more thought to a code name for your MID?" she asked.

I just shook my head. "No. It's ... I don't know. I can't think of anything."

"You'll need to think of one very soon, so it can get with your MID application." With that, she left.

So I wasn't alone. Further, from what she said, I wouldn't be the only 'changeling' at Whateley, although she told me that the group was relatively small only two or three a year. That was a comforting thought, but then I had my greatest fear about going to Whateley, and it wasn't so comforting. I sighed and shook my head. By the time I got there, I'd be on the outside looking in. What if the changelings there had already formed their little social network? I'd be completely cut out of the support group. The sense of loneliness and isolation born of fear returned with a vengeance. And having to think up some cool code name was more pressure I really didn't want.

**********

Out of habit because I was bored, I turned on my cell phone and automatically checked for messages, before I remembered that no-one of my old friends would want to text a mutant like me. I hadn't looked at it in the past couple of days, because I'd been quite busy. When I saw who the last message was from, I angrily threw my phone down on my bed.

"What's the matter, Kayda?" Mom asked, sensing my frustration.

"I got another text ... from Julie," I snorted with undisguised contempt in my voice. It wasn't the first; there were nearly two dozen messages like it that I hadn't read.

"I really think you should answer it, Kayda."

"Why? So she can taunt me or insult me? Wasn't it enough that she set me up and nearly got me killed?" I screamed. "Hasn't she hurt me enough already?" I flopped face-down on my bed, in tears again at the thought of how Julie had betrayed and hurt me, after we'd been very special friends. All the broken bones and bruises had hurt less than her betrayal. I didn't want to ever go through that again, or even to be reminded of the pain she'd caused me.

Mom sat beside me, rolling and moving me until I was sitting beside her, and wrapping her arm around my shoulders, pulling my head onto her shoulder. "You can't keep a grudge forever," she said. "Especially when you don't have all the facts."

"Like I need more evidence? You saw the texts she sent me. She was probably in the background when they were trying to kill me, gloating at what she'd done to me just like all the other mutant-hating assholes."

Mom changed the subject so abruptly that I nearly got whiplash. "Did you wonder why they weren't able to kill you, because that was obviously on their minds?"

"No," I answered. "I hadn't thought about it. But it's a good question."

"They were going to," Mom admitted, spilling something that she hadn't yet told me. "Your dad and I interrupted their beating and made them run away, which is what saved your life."

"You and Dad?" I sat quietly for a moment. "How did you know to come for me?"

"Someone very frantic and desperate called me to let me know that you were probably in grave danger, and told us where you most likely were."

"Who?"

"Julie."

My jaw hit the floor. "What? After she set me up?"

"She didn't set you up. You need to talk to her and let her explain. It wasn't her," Mom said softly.

I considered what she'd said for a few minutes. If she had really tipped off Mom and Dad, and wasn't the one who set me up, then I really had something to be ashamed of. My behavior had probably been rational, given what had happened, and what it looked like, but I'd been very quick to condemn, when there could have been circumstances in which she was indeed innocent. On the other hand, how would someone fake a text from _her_ cell phone? I hesitantly picked up my phone and, with great trepidation, typed a message.

~Can you talk right now? On the phone, not texting?~

My phone rang almost immediately, and the caller ID flagged it as being from Julie. I was suddenly petrified; what if I'd been right? Was she going to heap abuse on me now, too, like everyone else? I had to steady my nerves, praying silently that my Mom was right with her facts. "Hello?" I said very hesitantly.

"Brandon? Oh, God! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she babbled, almost bawling. "I'm so glad you're okay. I'm sorry! I was worried sick, and when I found out what Michelle had done, I was afraid they'd kill you, or that you'd think I'd done it, and you'd never want to talk to me again! I'm so sorry! I needed to tell you how sorry I am, but I understand if you can never forgive me because of my stupidity." Her apology came at sixty miles per hour, almost faster than I could digest the words.

"Slow down, please," I said, still uneasy about the call. "What ... what happened? Your phone sent the texts ...."

"Michelle was over after cheerleader practice," Julie explained through her continued sobbing and probably tears. "I had to go to the bathroom, and I must have left my phone unlocked. Michelle was the only one who could have used it to send the texts. I didn't even know until later, when Daddy was out and I was going to text you. That's when I saw what she'd sent you." I could tell she was in anguish over the incident. "I know she hated you being a mutant, because she listens to Scott."

"Scott hates me because I took the starting linebacker position from him last fall. The mutant thing just gave him an excuse to get violent."

"I couldn't get ahold of anyone, and I was afraid that they were going to hurt you, so I called your parents."

"That's what Mom just told me."

"God, I'm sorry," she apologized again, still crying. "It was so stupid of me to leave my phone unlocked. I'm so sorry you got hurt. I'm so sorry I did something that almost got you killed."

"It was pretty easy for me to come to the conclusion that you'd set me up."

"But ... you were more than a boyfriend, you were my _best_ friend - and I hope you still are. I ... I never had a friend as good as you! I would _never_ do something like that to you. I'm so sorry." She was sniffling as she talked, fighting more tears. "I just wanted a chance to apologize, even if you hate me now."

I started to reply, but couldn't. She'd given me a lot to think about, especially in light of the growing hatred I'd been harboring toward her over the past few days, hatred based on a false assumption and incorrect facts.

"Brandon?" she asked, her voice edged with fear and uncertainty.

I realized that I couldn't hang on to the hate, especially in light of what she and Mom had told me. It wouldn't be right to blame her for something that she wasn't responsible for. "I don't hate you," I said softly. "It wasn't your fault." I heard her crying with relief that I didn't condemn her or hold it against her. "But don't you hate mutants like everyone else does?"

"I'm not a brain-dead bigot, you goof. You should know that after we've been dating for over seven months!" She was trying to laugh through her tears.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to break up the dating thing, though."

"Yeah, I saw the picture. You're really, really beautiful, you know. I'm ... jealous!"

"Sheesh! The last thing I want to hear is that I'm a good-looking girl, when just a few days ago, I was a normal boy." I got a naughty thought. "But if you think _that_ was good looking, you should see me now!" I knew that when I finished talking, I was going to take a selfie and send it to her.

"I think you're kind of hot, in an exotic way."

Alarm bells started ringing. "You're not saying that you're ...."

Julie laughed. "You think I'm maybe a lesbian and am attracted to you now?"

"Well, it's kind of confusing, especially when you say that I'm hot," I said, glancing over at my Mom who was smiling smugly at what she was hearing from my end of the conversation.

"Well, I'm not, but .... I gotta run; Daddy's car just pulled in the driveway. Brandon ..."

"Kayda."

"What?"

"Kayda. Short for Wihakayda, a Lakota word for 'little one'," I explained. "Since I'm a girl ...."

"That's a pretty name. Kayda, please call or text me. I love you dearly as a friend, and I'm so, so sorry that my stupidity caused you to be hurt so badly."

"I will. Thanks." I felt my voice choking at what I knew I had to say. "All is forgiven, and I don't hate you. How could I, after you helped save my life? Call or text when it's safe."

"Okay. Bye."

I heard her hang up, so I put my phone in standby and lowered it slowly. "She said she didn't do it."

Mom smiled and nodded. "That's what I was trying to tell you the other day, but at the time, you weren't listening because you were too busy feeling emotionally hurt and sorry for yourself and angry at her. And then Doctor Martin interrupted us. She was in tears when she called us to alert us, and she called five times while you were in the clinic to make sure you were okay, and several times before you woke up."

"I guess I misjudged her," I mused.

"Yes, you did. But at least you're good enough to admit you were wrong, and to forgive her for her mistake."

I had Mom take a picture, as I'd promised, with Tatanka manifested beside me, dog-sized, so I could sit on the floor and wrap my arms around the cuddly white bison. I knew it was going to confuse the heck out of Julie. Mom was gushing over the picture, and had to run out to show everyone else. When everyone got done ooh'ing and ahh'ing over the picture, I had her take another with Tatanka full-sized and me standing beside him, just to add to her confusion, and possible jealousy. I actually giggled like a girl at the thought of Julie seeing those pictures and getting jealous of _my_ picture.

Damned hormones.

Debra came in for the second picture, and then, after Mom left, she was excitedly telling me that I should try to join Venus, Inc., which was a Whateley fashion club that she'd been in when she was a student there. She was gushing about how adorable Tatanka was when he was dog-sized, and after a marathon session to wear me down, she convinced me to pose for more pictures with Debra's digital camera, some in only my underwear, working on playful pouting and other sensuous expressions, while she also taught me a few things about how to pose, how to use head-tosses to get my hair with the right 'mood', and how to display my body with Tatanka for maximum sultriness. We were both giggling when we got done, and she copied the digital pictures for me. I have to admit that she knew her stuff; some of the photos looked professional. There were one or two that I needed to e-mail to Julie as well.

As we worked the photo shoot, our banter and joking danced at the boundaries of being lewd, but we stayed carefully on the proper side of the line. In one pose, I was topless but turned away from the camera, and I joked about Debra keeping her eyes shut so I wasn't tempting her. She laughed, responding that she wasn't into cradle-robbing. At that point, for some unknown reason, I _did_ flash her, proclaiming that I hardly looked like a baby, and we both laugh aloud. Then I suddenly realized what I'd done, and my cheeks burned as I tried to cover up my semi-nude body, which made her giggle all the more. That, in turn, got me laughing so much that I forgot that I was embarrassed and semi-naked. I enjoyed the hell out of the photo shoot because Debra was fun to be with.

When we finished and I was dressing in private, I couldn't help but wonder whether I found Debra attractive. She was very cute, and fun to be with, but our age difference really put a damper on thinking of anything more, even if my old male thoughts preferred to think of being with girls. And Debra was too careful to avoid anything that seemed improper, emphasizing repeatedly our age difference, which was her way of telling me that she was acutely aware of it and wasn't going to come close to the line separating playful banter from inappropriate behavior, no matter how attractive she might have found me.

*********

We'd finished dinner, and I was sitting around watching TV with the most of the group. Farm Boy and Tractor were out stopping a bank robbery, which was, after all, their job. Debra got a call, and the end I heard puzzled me. She excused herself without explanation.

A few minutes later, she was back, with a gentleman who looked to be in his mid- to late-thirties. He wore jeans, a plaid shirt, cowboy boots, a turquoise bolo tie, and a beaded belt that screamed of Native American art. Like me, he had darker pigmented skin, which with his facial shape and features marked him immediately to me as a full-blooded Native American, although I couldn’t tell from which of the Nations.

I had a sudden thought from Wakan Tanka.

"He is Iroquois," she told me, "and the First Shaman of those Nations."

"What's a shaman?" I asked in my mind.

"A shaman has access to the powers of the animal spirits," Wakan Tanka informed me. "Since he is the First Shaman, he is the most powerful shaman of those Nations. He has a very powerful gift of healing, and he controls his aging. Most shamans are also dream-walkers, and a few are ghost-walkers. This one is far older than he appears, and he is very powerful."

Debra escorted the man to me. "Mr. Lodgeman, I'd like you to meet Kayda. She just manifested, and she's the one Farm Boy was telling you about. Kayda, this is Mr. Charlie Lodgeman, one of the trustees of Whateley Academy.

"Nice to meet you - I hope," I said warily. "I'm Kayda. Kayda Franks."

Mr. Lodgeman extended his hand in greeting, and shook it. He had a firm grip, and seemed to be measuring me as he shook hands. "For someone who just manifested," Mr. Lodgeman said with a pleasant smile, "you certainly look very far advanced in your changes."

"Some rather ... unpleasant ... circumstances made my changes go rather quickly. It wasn't exactly fun," I said, trying to hide the bitterness in my voice.

"So you're the one that everyone is talking about, the girl who has two major spirits?" Mr. Lodgeman didn't beat around the bush. Despite this, there was a charming twinkle in his eye, an unmistakable joie de vivre.

I shrugged. "I'm not that special," I said modestly, knowing very well that I felt less than special after what I'd experienced in the last several days.

"I know a few things about Native American mythology and lore," Mr. Lodgeman chuckled, "so when I received a report that you are Lakota, and that you had two powerful spirits, one of which manifests as a white buffalo, I had to catch the first available plane."

I frowned in confusion. "Didn't they tell you I've applied to Whateley?"

"And let you get lost in the confusion and bureaucracy before I can meet you?" Mr. Lodgeman grinned. "Not likely. Besides, it's not every day that I get to meet someone with a celebrity spirit."

"I know Grandmother told me that my spirits were important, but I thought it was a tribal thing."

"Hardly. The White Buffalo is widely known, even across tribes, and every tribe has lore about a prophet or messenger of the Great Spirit. So if you have either of those spirits, that makes you quite a celebrity." Mr. Lodgeman turned to Mom, took her hand, and gracefully kissed it. "And I presume you are Mrs. Franks, the mother of this charming young lady?"

Mom blushed at Mr. Lodgeman's compliment. "Uh, yes. Her father and I are proud of our girl."

Mr. Lodgeman turned back to me. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to you about your ... spirits."

"Uh, okay," I said hesitantly. I had just met the man, and I wasn't very comfortable with him yet.

Mr. Lodgeman sensed my discomfort. "Your Mom is welcome to sit in with us. In fact, I insist on it. And if you'd like, for your own piece of mind, we can have Wish List sit in with us to psychically monitor our discussion."

I frowned. "Is this going to be a psychic thing?" I asked nervously. "Because when Wish List tried during power testing, one of my spirits shielded me and almost hurt her."

The four of us adjourned to a small meeting room, where we wouldn't be distracted by the others, and wouldn't disturb them either. We all sat down at the table, and I looked uneasily at Mr. Lodgeman. "Tell me about the spirits you hold," he said simply to start the conversation.

I began telling him about how I'd met them after manifesting, and what they seemed like to me. He was very curious about whether the two were truly independent or just different aspects of the same spirit. He _was_ knowledgeable about some of the Lakota legends and lore, but not nearly as versed in the spiritual aspects of it as Grandma Little Doe, or me, for that matter. Of course, I'd been getting a crash-course from all the dream-time I was spending with Wakan Tanka and Tatanka.

"I suppose it's time that I met your spirits," Mr. Lodgeman said, "if they're willing, that is."

"What do I have to do?"

"I think the best place to meet them is in the dream world. Most spiritual events in the Native American cultures occur in and around the dream-world, and if I remember correctly, that applies to the Lakota traditions as well." I simply nodded to acknowledge his supposition. "The easiest way is for me to guide you on a dream journey," he said. "I'm a shaman, and can guide dreams. Some call people like me dream-walkers."

"Since I manifested, I spend a lot of time in my dream-world with my spirits." I nodded my understanding. "Wakan Tanka told me that you are a shaman, and she said that someday, I would learn to do things like shamans do, like dream-walking."

Mr. Lodgeman's eyes widened when I mentioned her name. "Wakan ... Tanka?" he asked slowly, almost reverently. "She's your spirit? Are you certain?"

I smiled and nodded. "I'm not sure. Sometimes, it's like she talks to me through the spirit of Ptesanwi. Sometimes, she joins with me. One thing you need to know is that she only speaks to me in Lakota, so I might have to translate for you."

Mr. Lodgeman nodded warily. "All you need to do is relax and close your eyes. I will help you enter the dream world without going to sleep, and you can introduce me to spirits." I could tell from his expression that he didn't really believe I had two spirits but that he was trying to humor me.

I closed my eyes and started to take deep breaths as he suggested. It only took a few seconds for me to feel myself slipping from the real world into the realm of dreams.

I was attired in a buckskin dress with beaded moccasins, my hair worn in two braids, one on either side, as I was now accustomed when in dream-space. For a moment, I wondered if I could get clothing like that for the real world, and if it would feel as comfortable there as it did here.

Mr. Lodgeman stood beside me, clad in the garb of a medicine man. "Where are your spirits?"

I looked around, and instantly recognized the terrain. "Over that hill is a small valley with a river. The village is there." We set off, me having to hurry my pace to keep up with his long, loping strides. As we crested the hill, we saw the village, with faint wisps of smoke coming from small cooking fires among the tepees. We walked into the circle of tepees, and I took a seat on a log at the central fire. Frowning, not quite sure what to expect, Mr. Lodgeman sat down too, but not too close to me.

"Well?"

"They will come. I have asked them, but they are uncertain about you or your intentions. Even though you are a powerful shaman, you are from a different nation."

"Oh?" Mr. Lodgeman seemed surprised.

"You are Haudenosaunee - Iroquois - and more specifically, Onondaga, correct?"

"How did you know?"

"I just know," I answered with certainly,

"Greetings, visitor from another nation," Wakan Tanka said from behind us as she approached, startling Mr. Lodgeman. "I am glad your intentions are peaceful." I translated for Mr. Lodgeman.

"I am curious about the girl. It is unusual that someone so young claims to have two spirits with her. And it is curious that you look exactly like her."

I saw Tatanka shambling up behind Mr. Lodgeman, silent and full-sized. His stealth, despite his huge size, continued to amaze me, and in this case, evoked a wry grin, knowing that he was about to surprise Mr. Lodgeman.

"Why shouldn't Ptesanwi have two spirits?" Tatanka asked from behind Mr. Lodgeman on his right, startling him yet again. Evidently, he wasn’t used to being surprised. "She is special since she is the white buffalo calf woman, and thus, she needs both of us."

"So you _do_ have two spirits," he said, amazed. He looked at Tatanka. "Greetings, Tatanka, buffalo spirit."

"I am _the_ Tatanka, the _white_ buffalo spirit, chief among all buffalo spirits, and companion to Ptesanwi." He seemed upset that he was called 'just' a buffalo spirit.

Mr. Lodgeman looked at Wakan Tanka. "You are truly Wakan Tanka?" He sounded impressed.

"Yes." Wakan Tanka smiled and stepped to my side. I felt her arm around me, and suddenly, I felt her in me and me in her. It was as if we'd merged into one body again. "And together, _we_ are Ptesanwi."

Mr. Lodgeman's eyes widened as we joined. "Forgive me for being so presumptuous as to dream-walk in your world without invitation, Wakan Tanka" he apologized. "It was necessary to understand how to help the girl."

We put our hand on his shoulder. "We understand," we said in our one voice. "You are correct to be skeptical, and you have the best intentions of the girl in mind. You have the spirit of the Buffalo, and you touch the spirits of the Eagle, the Beaver, and the Wolf," we said. "You are a powerful shaman. As First Shaman of your Nations, you know us, and have been our ally before."

As we watched, Mr. Lodgeman changed appearance, his clothing shifting fluidly from the decidedly western wear he had into the native attire of the old Iroquois of long before jeans became common wear for the tribes. We knew that Mr. Lodgeman was joining his First Shaman spirit in the dream-world, much as Ptesanwi and I had joined. He wore a breechcloth with long leggings, his feet clad in moccasins instead of the cowboy boots he'd been wearing. His cloth shirt was long, decorated with fancy beadwork and ribbon-work that made our beaded dress seem plain in comparison. From his belt hung a sheath, which we knew contained his ceremonial shaman's knife, much as we had Wakan Mila, and on the opposite hip was a leather pouch, probably his medicine bag. He had a relatively simple headdress with two feathers – one erect and the other lying down to the rear, indicating the Onondaga tribe of the Haudenosaunee.

"It has been long, Wakan Tanka," he said simply, smiling gently.

"Yes, it has, Shaman. Too many winters have passed since we last met."

"Why have you chosen this time to come, after so long?"

"Why have _you_ come at this time?" we asked in return, eliciting a startled look from him. We smiled. "It is nearly the time of the White Buffalo Calf, the season to return prosperity to the Peoples," we answered. "But first, there are dangers to _all_ the Peoples that have not been greater since the time of the Courts."

He nodded, smiling grimly. "And such is the reason that I have come as well."

"The demon Kitagilik has awakened," we said, watching Mr. Lodgeman carefully. His reaction was as we expected; he was startled by our news. "The hunter of shamans is moving again."

"We had not seen that. We knew that demons were awakening all over, for all the Nations."

"As before, at the time of the great war of the demons, we must gather the shamans and warriors to preserve the people against the demons, before Kitagilik and his kind descend from the north and destroy the Nations one by one."

"Why did you choose the girl Kayda?" Mr. Lodgeman and his shaman spirit asked simply. "There were surely more experienced shamans in the tribes."

"Yes," we answered, "but the girl is of the blood-line of the last Ptesanwi, and as such, she could be more powerful than any of the older shamans. But we need help from the First Shaman."

Mr. Lodgeman's face wrinkled in a frown. "Help? How?"

"She is young, and needs help to guide her. She is at the age of rebellion, where she might reject the advice of her spirits. You, as a mentor, can guide her at the times she is too stubborn to listen to me or Tatanka."

Mr. Lodgeman contemplated for a few moments. "We will watch her and provide advice when she seeks it. We cannot force advice on the young, or they will rebel even more."

We smiled. "Yes, we have experienced that with other prophets."

"We will consult with you, Wakan Tanka, if we need help with Kayda."

"That is all I can ask of you, Shaman." We smiled at Mr. Lodgeman. "Go in peace, Shaman. We will meet again soon."

I woke from my dream-space with a start. I saw Mr. Lodgeman likewise awaken a moment later. He glanced my way, and his eyes widened.

Wish List was startled by his reaction. "Mr. Lodgeman? Are you okay? I couldn't sense _anything_ from either of you while you were in dream-space."

Debra came into the room. "Well?" she asked Mr. Lodgeman.

Mr. Lodgeman looked thoughtful. "She has two very important, very powerful spirits. One of them I know very, very well, or at least my shaman spirit does."

I smiled at Mom; it was nice to be believed for a change.

"And she's Ptesanwi," he added firmly.

"Huh?"

Mr. Lodgeman sighed. "You know I have the spirit of a shaman, right?" He saw the nods from Wish List and Debra. "Compared to Ptesanwi, I'm an amateur. When Kayda joins with Wakan Tanka, she _is_ the white buffalo calf woman, with potentially far more power than I have when she learns to use it. The white buffalo spirit Tatanka is a Class 2 spirit, and I'll have to do a little research, but I believe Ptesanwi is a very powerful Class 3 spirit." I saw jaws dropping in astonishment.

"What does that mean?" Debra asked, beating Mom to the question. "Is she an important spirit?"

"You know how, in the Muslim world, Mohammed is revered as the great prophet of Allah?" he began. "In the lore of the plains Indians, Ptesanwi's relationship to the Great Spirit is more than that. Much more."

"Holy shit!" Wish List whistled. "That's pretty big."

"And the Great Spirit," Mr. Lodgeman continued, pausing for dramatic effect, "is often referred to by the plains Indians as Wakan Tanka."

**********

Somewhere in the Black Hills

In the dim cloud-obscured moonlight, no-one saw the lumbering, rock-like form slither ungracefully from an abandoned mineshaft, one of hundreds left over from the Black Hills gold rush days. The serpent paused as it smelled the crisp, late-winter air for the first time in many generations, turning its head from side to side as its tongue slipped in and out, tasting the air. It paused as if confused, then repeated the motions. It would have been absurd for a snake to frown, but it wasn't for this rock-like serpent with small clawed limbs and a semi-humanoid face frown. For a third time, it tasted the air uneasily. Things tasted differently from the last time it had been free. Even in this remote part of the Black Hills, the scent of industry and civilization hung heavy in the air, overpowering in some ways the scents of nature and of its normal prey that it knew and remembered.

The tongue kept flicking as the serpent slithered toward a hilltop. Slowly, it was finding the old scents in the mix of pollution from faraway power stations and industrial facilities, and the sewage treatment plants of nearby towns. The smell of the automobile, from the faint hint of outgassing plastics to the pungent, bitter taste of exhaust fumes and oily fluids, were hard to filter out, but the serpent-creature could be patient. He _had_ to be patient, to remember the old smells and tastes and filter out the new, annoying and distracting one.

As he practiced tasting the air, the serpent-creature's skin slowly crumbled into dust around it. The stone shell may have been perfect for hiding and hibernating in the caves and tunnels, a cocoon to protect it from insects and small rodents that sometimes wandered underground, but here it would be a hindrance. The stone would quickly heat under the baking rays of even the winter sun, and while not fatal to the serpent-creature, it would slow its movement considerably, and its task called for speed. Speed and stealth, which the sound of its former rocky shell grating on any surface would have betrayed. Finally, the last pieces of stone fell from the creature, revealing a shadowy, inky form that seemed to absorb any light that fell upon it, leaving it appearing more as an absence in the snow-covered landscape than something which was really present.

The serpent creature tasted the air once more, and having identified the smells it needed to locate, it began to undulate silently across the terrain in a movement that might have been called graceful if only it could have been clearly seen. The inky blackness, though, would have defied any attempt to truly view or characterize its shape, let alone its motion. Instead, its motion was more of a stain moving across the land.

At a fork in the valleys of the mountains, it paused. It smelled a familiar scent, and it was reminded of something it hadn't felt since it hibernated all those long years ago. It felt of hunger. Distracted from its mission, the serpent creature flowed up the valley along an ice-encrusted creek, until it came to the source of the smell. Instincts overpowered it, despite its promise to the father-creature. Strange tepees, not at all shaped like it remembered, spread in a circle around a fire ring, the scent of which was still powerful to the serpent. It coiled, snake-like, for it was mostly snake, and then sprang its massive body into one of the odd tepees, its fangs easily rending the nylon fabric and the heavy, winter sleeping bags of the two occupant of the tent. The serpent-creature's gaping maw easily swallowed the first boy whole, but the second one, disturbed by the sound, sat up, and the serpent-creature's aim was amiss. The bite crushed the scout's chest as it tore the boy into three pieces.

The attack had been swift, but not as completely noiseless as the serpent would have wished had rational thought not been so overwhelmed by its instinct to feed. A flashlight flickered on, and then another, and another, and the tents were surrounded by the steamy fog of warm breath exposed to the cold night air. The lights and the warm exhalations only attracted the attention of the serpent, and another tent and its occupants were torn asunder by the ravenous creature.

Two adults scrambled from their tent, flashlights rapidly scanning as they looked for the source of the disturbance. One of the flashlights settled on sight of the inky, nebulous shaped serpent-creature, easily visible as a dark shape on the snow-covered ground, a half-torn body still in its mouth, as the creature paused to finish tearing the remains of its latest victim in two before it hungrily gulped down what was in its mouth. The first adult started to scream at the horrific sight, but the sound died in his throat as the serpent-creature lunged at him, tearing him apart as its jaws crushed the life out of him.

The second adult pulled something from his waist, and holding a flashlight in one hand and his pistol in the other, fired at the creature that was momentarily distracted swallowing the torn body. He managed to get five shots off, all well-aimed despite the mind-shattering panic of the man, but though they hit their mark, they seemed to do nothing to the serpent-creature. A sixth shot was fired point-blank into the face of the serpent-creature before the man, too, was torn asunder by the ravenous beast.

Late in the afternoon of the next day, a search-and-rescue team combing the woods for a missing scout troop stumbled upon a truly gruesome scene. Tents were smashed and torn, spattered with massive quantities of blood that matched the red stains of carnage on the formerly-pristine snow. A few smaller body parts, accidentally bitten off and missed by the attacking creature, lay strewn about in puddles and spatters of blood and other bodily fluids. The team found only three scouts alive out of a total group of eleven scouts and two adults. All were catatonic and unable to move or speak, let alone to describe the vicious, bloody attack which had so devastated their peaceful campsite.

**********

Monday, March 5, 2007
Sioux Falls League Headquarters

"Mr. Lodgeman," Mom began after she had a sip of coffee. We were sitting at the table having breakfast, and Mom was being mostly quiet and in a pensive mood.

"Charlie, please," Mr. Lodgeman answered Mom with a smile. He put down his fork, expecting conversation that would interrupt any attempt at eating.

"Charlie," Mom corrected herself. She didn't look any more at ease. "I ... don't get the whole thing about the buffalo spirit and Ptesanwi and Wakan Tanka. It sounds sort of like Kayda is messing with three spirits."

Mr. Lodgeman nodded. "It's understandable, because the dream-world operates differently from the real world."

"That's an understatement," I muttered between bites of scrambled eggs.

"Let's see. What's the best way to put it?" Mr. Lodgeman thought a moment. "In the dream world, a person can interact with all of the spirits, if they're powerful enough, which is to say, if they have enough magical and spiritual energy."

"So, in theory, _I_ could interact with some spirits?"

Mr. Lodgeman nodded. "The first problem is that you need to be in the dream-world. Most people go there, occasionally, but it's a very special, wakan space, sacred space. Dream-walkers, and some people, are wakan and can enter dream-space at will. Kayda is an example."

"And you, too," I interjected.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," Mr. Lodgeman answered with a wry grin. "The more powerful and spiritual a person is, the more, and higher-level, spirits they can interact with."

"So, since Kayda has the spirit of Wakan Tanka in her, and Wakan Tanka is the Great Spirit, she can pretty much do as she pleases in the dream-world?"

Mr. Lodgeman winced as he struggled to find the right way to put it. "I don't think Kayda has Wakan Tanka as one of her spirits. Wakan Tanka would be too powerful for even the most powerful avatars to begin to hold. After I spent time meditating on it, I think I understand what's really happened is that Kayda has the spirit of Ptesanwi with her, and that spirit allows her to channel Wakan Tanka into her dream space."

"Huh?" I asked, befuddled.

"In dream-space, you are a virtual twin to the spirit you call Wakan Tanka, yes?" I nodded. "And joined, you two are Ptesanwi, right?" Again I nodded. "The spirit is Ptesanwi. Joining is symbolic of calling forth Ptesanwi's power to you, whether in the dream world, or, I suspect, in the real world."

"I can't join Ptesanwi in the real world!"

Mr. Lodgeman smiled. "I'm not sure. You might learn to do that – someday. Anyway, as I was saying, I think that the Ptesanwi spirit in your dream world is doing what Ptesanwi does, which is being a channeller and messenger for Wakan Tanka. Wakan Tanka is appearing in your dream-space through her, whose spirit _is_ in you. That's why you can talk to and interact with Wakan Tanka in dream-space."

Mom frowned, matching my own. "This is kind of confusing," she said. "There's a ... goddess ... talking in my daughter's head through a prophet spirit that is now part of her?"

Mr. Lodgeman nodded with a thin smile. "That's a crude way to put it, but yes, that's what I think. Of course, once she gets to Whateley and has proper power and avatar testing done, we'll know for certain, but I think I'm right - after spending the whole night meditating on it," he added. "Some tribal shamans would know better than I, though."

I snorted in disgust. "With the MCO after me, I'll probably never get to meet any of the Lakota shamans to understand what's really going on. Or to understand why."

"Someday, you'll have to meet with the tribal shamans," Mr. Lodgeman explained. "With the spirit of Ptesanwi, you will be very important to the tribes, and they will to recognize you."

If Ptesanwi was the prophet for Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit, it was no wonder that Grandma Little Doe was so astounded at what was happening to me. And in a way, Mr. Lodgeman's speculation made a lot more sense than me having the Great Spirit in me. That would be like someone possessing the essence of the creator in him or her. Channeling that spirit through a prophet, though, seemed more reasonable, since having the spirit of a prophet seemed a lot less dangerous and scary.

Wish List decided to change the subject to something she understood. "I got a report that both of the MCO agents are in the field today. They're trying to track down a reported mutant somewhere east of Aberdeen in Webster."

Debra immediately understood what Wish List was thinking. "Both of them?"

"They flew in a small aircraft. They're at least two hours away, and our operative at Foss got a tracking beacon on their plane. We'll know exactly when they're heading home."

Vanity Girl nodded with a smile. "You know what this means, don't you?" she grinned at Debra and Wish List.

"Shopping trip for Kayda!" Debra and Wish List sang together.

I was suddenly excited at the possibility that I might get out of the 'dungeon'. In reality, calling the headquarters of the SFL a dungeon was a gross injustice; it was very well appointed and comfortable, feeling a lot like a cross between an upscale college dorm and a condo unit, with a few cool labs thrown in for fun. Mom and I had been stuck, afraid of going out, because of the fear of MCO agents picking me up, but now, it might be possible to get some fresh air and act like a normal person for a few hours, and I was almost giddy. "Can we go?" I begged Farm Boy. I think I was batting my eyes and using what they call feminine charms. "Please?"

Farm Boy glanced at Tractor and Vanity Girl, who laughed at my amateur attempt. "I guess it'd be okay. As long as Wish List and Cornflower are with them, I'm sure they'll be safe."

Mom got a twinkle in her eye, which told me that she intended to come along with me and the girls, and that I would regret it. Would she insist on more lingerie? More feminine clothes? Getting a manicure? Visiting a makeup counter in a department store? I was imagining all sorts of horrors to which Mom could subject me, and from the way Wish List was giggling, I'm pretty sure she was reading my emotions and found them funny. When she whispered something to Debra, who also started chuckling, I _knew_ I was in trouble.

After breakfast, while we were waiting for the stores to open, I entertained the crew manifesting Tatanka in all forms, from a small, cuddly plush toy to full-sized. Tatanka was unhappy being petted and held when he was toy-sized, and he made up for it with irritability and threatening snorts when he was full sized. Despite how he was acting, he was acting like he was developing a soft spot for Wish List and Debra. I finally demanifested him so we could get ready for some shopping.

I had mixed feelings about going shopping. On the one hand, it meant getting out of the headquarters, but on the other hand, it was shopping. With three women. One of whom was my Mom. I could _not_ see that ending well. But it meant getting out of the bunker! Talk about a lose-lose situation.

We went first to a department store, where I was literally bombarded with suggestions and hints of what kind of clothes would look 'cute' on me. Cute! Gak! But the women were not to be deterred, and after trying on what felt like half of the clothes in the store, I got seven or eight new outfits, plus some additions to my admittedly tiny lingerie collection, which the women insisted should be lacy and sexy. I think Debra and Wish List were enjoying teasing me about new lingerie.

After we'd spent a good deal of Dad's money, we went to lunch at a place called the Tokyo Japanese Restaurant. Yeah, real imaginative name. (At least it wasn't something related to another prominent ethnic cuisine of the area, like Sven's Lutefisk and Lefse!) Debra and Wish List both insisted that it wasn't necessary, but Mom was adamant that she was going to treat them, even knowing how much Debra could eat. The chicken teriyaki was fabulous. We never ate food like that back on the farm. Debra really was relishing their sushi, eating several trays' worth before she even sampled their teriyaki and sukiyaki dishes. Of course, by 'sampled', I mean she had four or five servings. The wait staff was a bit befuddled by Debra's enormous appetite, but they knew they were going to get a huge tip, so they shut up and served us with great courtesy and professionalism.

After we were sated, Mom insisted in getting me some nice jewelry, because 'every girl needs some nice jewelry'. I objected strenuously, but since it was one against three, I lost. Besides, Debra was driving, so I couldn't really do a lot to stop the trip.

The jewelry store was huge, not a corner establishment in the mall. The girls and Mom darted about the numerous display cases like kids in a candy store, oohing and aahing over way too much of the jewelry. The girls were occasionally commenting about what look good on me, but spent more time comparing opinions on what would go with _their_ outfits. Mom wanted me to get my ears pierced so I could get some pretty jeweled studs. Debra and Wish List were thinking more of dangling earrings. I wanted neither, but my opinion didn't seem to matter. Then Mom started looking at necklaces, especially ones with emeralds, because my eyes were, according to her, just made for accessorizing with emeralds. The other two caught onto that, and the argument shifted from whether I should bother to get a necklace, to which necklace would be best for me, and of course, which earrings would go with the various necklaces.

I barely noticed the suit-clad gentleman walking in, because he didn't at all look imposing or out-of-place. I did notice the clerks give him a cursory once-over, and I'm sure the security guard seated behind a small desk near the door did as well.

I don't know which happened first, the flash that took out power, or the bolt of electricity that knocked out the security guard, causing him to slump to the floor. Like most customers, I stood there, frozen in place by the unexpected and stunning attack.

"Good afternoon everyone. This is a robbery. I wouldn't worry about pressing the alarm," the man said smoothly as he pulled out a few cloth bags. "My EMP burst took that off-line with the electricity, and the backup systems as well. Now if everyone will politely cooperate, no-one will get hurt."

One male clerk decided he wasn't going to cooperate. I wasn't really surprised when he pulled out a gun, since South Dakota was a concealed-carry state. I dropped to the floor, though, because I _was_ worried about being hit by stray shots. Four rapid reports of gunfire echoed through the store as patrons joined Mom and me on the floor.

"Aw, now you shouldn't have done that," the man said with a sneer. He was completely unfazed by the shots, as if he the man were firing blanks. More likely, though, was that the man had some type of telekinetic or psychokinetic shield, since he was demonstrably a mutant from his little lightning show. The intruder sneered, and another bolt of lightning burst forth, catching the brave clerk and smashing him back against a wall. Smoke wafted from a burned spot on his clothing.

"Now that _that_ little lesson is out of the way," the man said loudly, "let's get on with business." He tossed the cloth bags onto a display case. "I'm the Gemologist, and I really like pretty jewelry and gems. I want you to oblige me by helping add to my little collection. Please put everything in the bags. I want the safe emptied of gemstones as well - everything a quarter carat and above." He made a show of glancing at his watch. "You have ... five minutes before people start getting hurt."

The clerks scrambled to comply with his wishes, not wanting to suffer the same fate as the injured but still living clerk who'd tried to be a hero. The Gemologist surveyed them working, and then scanned the store, and out through the glass windows. He knew exactly what he was doing, I gathered. A supervillain.

I don't know how Debra and Wish List did it, but they were suddenly in their superhero costumes. I felt a huge mental surge from Wish List as she extended her arms toward the Gemologist. He staggered, briefly dazed, as his focus was broken by her psi assault. Debra used that opportunity to step forward and let fly a shock wave at the would-be perp. He slammed against one of the bomb-proof duraglass windows and stumbled.

The Gemologist gawked in disbelief at the two supers, who were far enough apart to keep him from getting both of them with one blast. While he was dazed by whatever Wish List had done to him, Debra leapt forward to directly attack him.

A burst of energy erupted around him when Debra threw a punch, intercepting her blow and smashing her backwards. She staggered momentarily and then regained her balance. He was shaking off Wish List's mental assault, and as he focused his attention on Debra, she did a gymnastic-quality cartwheel and flip out of the way of his lightning bolt.

Angrily, he threw another bolt Debra's way, but she dodged and returned a shock wave at him, which again staggered him momentarily. So far, Debra had been able to evade his attacks, so he turned his attention to Wish List; a powerful electrical bolt smashed her way, but it stopped mere inches from her body as she absorbed the energy.

Wish List grinned. "Thanks for the power boost," she said happily as she concentrated on another psychic attack. I suspected that this one would be a doozie if she was able to use even part of the power of his attack to power her psychic abilities.

The Gemologist reeled, trying to let loose more lightning bolts at Debra, but he was dazed from Wish List's psi attacks, and she easily dodged several of his attacks and replied with the shock waves as she tried to get closer.

It looked like a standoff to me. Wish List's psychic attacks were keeping the villain off balance, and he was unable to dodge Debra's shock waves, but his lightning bolts were still strong, and his energy field deflected any direct physical blows.

In retrospect, I had to give the Gemologist credit for being observant. He'd seen the four of us together when he first came in, and he easily deduced that Mom and I were with Debra and Wish List. I could almost sense time slowing as he turned his attention to the gap between the supers, directly at Mom and me. I could sense energy building up in him as he prepared to let fly another of his energy bolts, but there was no doubt that the targets were Mom and I.

I didn't think; I reacted. I lurched on my knees toward Mom, knocking her out of where the villain seemed to be aiming, and my momentum carried me on top of her out of the danger zone.

Debra and Wish List both struck at once, Wish List hitting him with a psi blast while Debra used her PK shock wave. The combination attack foiled the villain's aim, and the bolt intended for Mom and I went wide, shattering a display case and scattering jewelry all over. As he struggled to recover, Debra leaped toward him, and at the last minute, as he prepared to hit her, she ducked and did a foot sweep, knocking him off balance and to the floor.

The Gemologist was experienced, though. He hit and did a backward roll, coming up on his feet again. He lashed out with a roundhouse kick, catching Debra as she was closing on him; her block was only partially effective, and she was knocked backwards, while he distracted Wish List by making her dodge a throwing knife that he'd pulled out of his sleeve. Apparently, he learned quickly, and was not about to shoot another lightning bolt that Wish List could just absorb and use the power it delivered.

Debra launched another sonic blast at the guy, and he grinned as he side-stepped and it missed him. A fraction of a second later, though, having reflected from the duraglass, the shock wave caught him in the back and pushed him right into Debra's kick and punch combo. I wondered how she'd connected with him through his energy barrier, until I realized something crucial - Debra and Wish List were deliberately making him use energy, until he slipped and missed either a physical or psychic barrier, or he ran out of energy to power his barriers. He staggered back, stunned, an angry sneer on his face. He glanced at Debra again, and then spun toward Mom and me.

I had to give Debra credit for incredibly fast reflexes. Even before he let his energy bolt fly, she started moving, tucking into a diving roll, and emerging as a shield between the villain and Mom and me. The bolt hit her in the leg, and the sounds indelibly imprinted in my mind - the thunder-like boom echoing off the very powerful lightning bolt, the sizzle of charring flesh as the bolt hit Debra, and her scream of agony.

My eyes widened at the realization that Debra had just saved Mom and me, and at the same time, my anger flared at the fact that this villain had targeted innocent people. I cried out, "Debra!" in desperation, agony in my heart that my friend had been injured trying to protect me, a mutant she barely knew.

I snarled in anger at what he'd done, and instantly Tatanka manifested, full-sized and angry, straddling Debra. I saw the villain's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly recovered from his shock. Even as Wish List used a psychic attack to try to trip him up, he lashed out at Tatanka.

When the bolt hit my white buffalo friend, I felt a searing agony in my guts, as if I'd been the one struck instead of him. But Tatanka had already leaped forward, and he hit the Gemologist before he could strike again, his horn easily penetrating what was left of the man's protective field and slashing into his flesh, splitting his skin like a razor and tearing up his internal organs in a gruesome display of what a person's insides would look like after two seconds in a blender. The Gemologist crumpled like a rag doll, his blood and internal organs spilling messily onto the floor, and Tatanka stepped heavily on his chest to keep him pinned down, snorting angrily at the would-be robber. I knew that if Tatanka shifted his weight just a little, the Gemologist's chest would be instantly - and fatally - crushed.

I barely saw the end of Tatanka's brief battle. I turned and scooted to Debra's side, and then had to struggle to keep from vomiting my lunch at the sight of the massive, bloody gash in her thigh. Blood was gushing from the open, ragged wound, despite the fact that the electric jolt, which had literally blasted part of her muscle out of her body, should have cauterized the wound. Around us, the nauseating smell of seared flesh hung in the air. Debra's breathing was already ragged; the little bit of first-aid training I remembered told me that she was going into shock.

Ignoring everything else around me, I reached into the gaping, burned wound and pressed my hand against the area of the shredded muscle that was seemed to be bleeding the worst, searching by touch for whatever major artery was gushing out Debra's very life.

"Wihakayda! Chant as I do."

Not knowing what else to do, I began to chant as Wakan Tanka directed, uttering the lyrical Lakota words as I felt energy flow from me into Debra.

"Code four," Wish List said into something as she touched a pin on her shoulder. "Code four. Cornflower is down. Get Vanity to open us a portal STAT."

"Have your mother hold pressure on the wound so you can use your medicines."

I glanced up. "Mom, get a handkerchief or something and put pressure where my hand is." I saw her look of confusion. "Wakan Tanka says I need to use some herbs."

Not quite understanding why, Mom took a hankie from her purse and, as soon as I moved my hand, she pressed it onto the bloody wound in Debra's leg, where it was instantly completely reddened by the gushing blood.

Without noticing that my hand was covered in Debra's blood, I opened my small leather pouch and took out the herbs as directed by Wakan Tanka. I rolled them between my hands, crushing them together, while I chanted as Wakan Tanka instructed. "Okay, Mom, remove the hankie for a moment, but be ready to press it back into place when I tell you."

As soon as Mom lifted the hankie, a renewed flow of fresh blood spurted from the wound. I chanted again, quickly sprinkling the mixed herbs into the open, bleeding wound, and feeling some more energy flow from me. "Put pressure back on," I snapped at Mom as soon as I finished my chant.

I hadn't noticed a magic portal opening near us, nor had I seen when Vanity Girl, Farm Boy, and Tractor stepped into the jewelry store. Tractor turned his attention immediately to the perp, holding him effortlessly pinned to the floor even as the villain's gory injury slowly knitted itself back together. Apparently, he was a high-level regenerator, so the blow which would have been fatal to most people hadn't killed the would-be robber.

Wearily, I let Tatanka demanifest, and as soon as he did so, I felt a big surge of pain and incredible fatigue, staggering me. In the distance, I heard multiple sirens of approaching police cars.

"Tractor, Wish List, stay here and deal with the police." Farm Boy touched me on the shoulder. "We need to get you out of here," he said softly so that only Mom and I could hear. "Vanity, hold the portal open until after we get Cornflower to medical." She merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Farm Boy effortlessly picked up Debra, who didn't even moan because she was unconscious. With Mom still holding the improvised pressure bandage in place, we all stepped through the magic portal Vanity Girl had held open for us.

When we appeared in the bunker, we were bloody, and I was exhausted. I was barely aware of the scramble of technicians and medics, taking Debra from Farm Boy's arms and placing her on a gurney before they wheeled her into another section of the facility even as the magic portal collapsed behind us.

Farm Boy clapped his hands on my and Mom's shoulders. "Get cleaned up. We need to get your view of what happened."

"But ... Debra!" I protested weakly.

"She'll be okay. She's a regenerator." His confident words didn't match the apprehensive look on his face. Mom and I knew how badly she had been injured. I'd seen directly the gaping hole where a chunk of her thigh had been literally blown out of her leg. We'd both seen how rapidly she'd been losing blood. I could tell that Farm Boy hadn't told me the whole story, but was instead trying to distract us from the battle and the horrific injures Debra has suffered. His physical demeanor, the pained look in his eyes, and the way doctors and technicians were scurrying noisily about back in the lab told me that she was very badly injured, more than mere words could have.. Despite his attempt to look strong and brave, his eyes had glistened with extra moisture; the situation was _far_ more serious than they'd told me.

Despite my worry, I let Card Trick lead me to a bathroom, where I washed my hands. When I looked in the mirror, I realized that Debra's blood was splattered on my face, and my top and jeans were a mess. I gave my face a quick rinse, getting off the worst of the spatters, but it was going to take a shower to get all Debra's blood off me.

I walked woodenly into my room with the full intent of changing clothes, but I collapsed onto my bed, sobbing at what I'd just gone through. Debra had been very critically injured in a battle that lasted mere seconds. She'd saved me and Mom, willing to sacrifice herself in the process. I felt my stomach turn, and I lurched to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before my stomach violently expelled my lunch at the gruesome memory of her injury and all the blood, and the vicious disemboweling of the would-be perp. I sank to my knees, holding onto the edges of the toilet to keep from falling face-first into the bowl full of foulness that had once been in me. Once my gut was finished trying to turn itself inside out, I collapsed onto the floor, exhausted physically and even more so emotionally. Debra had treated me like a sister, and now she was lying somewhere else in the bunker, critically, if not mortally, wounded. I didn't know if what I had done had made any difference, and I was upset that I had such strong regenerative powers but I couldn't share that gift with her when she needed it so desperately. I lay on the bathroom floor, crying uncontrollably.

In the midst of my emotional breakdown, I heard Wakan Tanka urgently calling to me.

"Wihakayda, you must go to the shaman and borrow his medicine bag, since yours is not complete."

"What?" I asked, fighting tears even in dream-space. I'd never seen the workings of the grim reaper so up-close and personal until that afternoon, and I was quite thoroughly distraught.

"You must borrow the shaman's medicine bag if you would save your friend's life."

That caught my attention. "But ... I only know a couple of simple spells you taught me," I protested weakly. That wasn't going to stop me from trying, however; I'd use whatever magic I'd learned from Wakan Tanka if it would help Debra even just a little.

"Only _you_ have the power to help her. I will teach you the spell and guide you. Now hurry! There is no time for us to waste."

Spurred on by her insistence and sense of urgency, I pulled myself off the floor and sprinted out of my room, suddenly not caring about the bodily fluids splattered on my shirt and pants. "Where's Mr. Lodgeman?" I demanded of Card Trick, the first person I met.

She pointed to a room. "In there, I think."

I barged rudely into the room. "I need to use your medicine bag," I insisted, almost demanding.

"That's an incredibly personal request ...," Mr. Lodgeman began his objection, sounding more than a bit offended that I would dare ask such a thing.

"Wakan Tanka told me that Debra will die if I don't help her," I said firmly. "I haven't had time to make my own medicine bag, and I _need_ one!" Mr. Lodgeman thought a moment, and then reluctantly handed me a modest leather pouch and followed me as I sprinted off to the medical area, with Card Trick on my heels.

Debra was in a surgical room, with a doctor and a technician, masked and gloved, working feverishly on her leg. The beeping of the monitors in the background was irregular, as if to accentuate her dire condition. Her complexion was nearly as white as the sheet; she'd lost a tremendous amount of blood. It was obvious that, with her mutant powers and body, there wasn't a lot the doctor could do for her apart from stopping the blood loss from her leg, even though he was making a valiant effort. With the damage I'd seen, it was evident that Debra was going to lose her leg at the very least.

As soon as I walked in, the doctor turned to me, shocked at my intrusion. "You can't be in here," he protested. "This is a sterile operating room, and you ...."

I was about to protest, when Mr. Lodgeman interrupted. "She's a shaman," he explained simply, "with healing magic."

Any conventional doctor would have tossed all of us out as nut-cases, but the doctor was familiar with mutants and powers. H nodded slowly. With his assent, I stepped to an open area by Debra's chest, allowing the doctor and technician to continue working on her mangled leg.

"Wakan Tanka, please help me with Debra," I pleaded.

"I will not fail you, Wihakayda. Listen to me as I guide you, and do everything I tell you."

"Of course, my teacher." There were tears on my cheeks.

"It will be very difficult."

"I will not fail you, or her!"

Following Wakan Tanka's instruction, I began to bark orders, my voice trembling at the tremendous responsibility I'd just blindly accepted. "I need a small bowl or cup. Wooden would be best, but anything without metal will do," I sharply directed Card Trick, who was standing behind me and Farm Boy, worried like the rest of us about her friend's health. "Quickly! Fill it halfway with warm water, too!"

As Card Trick grabbed a plastic basin from the supply counter and began to fill it with warm water from the scrub sink, I measured out herbs from Mr. Lodgeman's medicine bag as directed by my spirit. When she handed me the small plastic container, I went partially into dream space, and let Wakan Tanka take over by joining us into Ptesanwi. We noted, as we prepared to do our healing, that the others in the room seemed to be staring at us in amazement.

We began to chant as we slowly, methodically added the herbs to the water in the order she proscribed, at the times in the chant that she indicated. Everything else in the room faded into a blurry background; only the container and Debra seemed to be in focus and of importance. For nearly a minute, we repeated the chant that Wakan Tanka directed as we completed the brew. A bright flash of energy erupted from the plastic bowl when we put in the last ingredient.

"Now paint the mix onto her forehead, her cheeks, and her throat, like you are painting on war paint, as I did with you when you were injured."

We did as instructed, painting the brew in a chevron across her forehead, two angled stripes on each cheek, and outlined her chin, drawing another line on her neck below the first as I repeated the chanting.

"Now her wrists and ankles."

We marked three broad, long stripes on each write and each ankle, accompanied by more chanting.

"Now paint over her heart, and once you have done that, we will chant and then pour some into the wound."

Her spandex costume had been cut off, so we just had to lift the blanket to paint the brown liquid generously on Debra's heart in a triple-chevron with a large dot in the lower center. Then, as Ptesanwi, guided by my Wakan Tanka half, we chanted some more mystical Lakota words, and then poured some of the thick brew onto Debra's injured limb.

The effect was electric. A flash of energy flowed from me to Debra; it was the last thing I remembered before I collapsed and fell unconscious into the dream-world.

**********

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

When my eyes opened, I saw Mom leaning over me, worried. Also in the room was Mr. Lodgeman, watching me with concern.

"Are you okay, honey?" Mom asked as she wiped my brow with a damp cloth.

"What happened?" I stuttered, confused. I was in a bed, and was wearing sleepwear instead of the messy jeans and shirt I'd been in when I'd been healing Debra, and I had no recollection of anything after that flash and feeling of energy being pulled from me.

"You collapsed after you finished the spell. You've been out for almost fifteen hours."

Mr. Lodgeman was a little more precise. "You used an incredible amount of energy in that magical healing, and it left you very weak. You probably collapsed because you're not used to using that much magic." He was looking at me with renewed interest. "Were you ... manifesting as Ptesanwi?" he asked cautiously.

I nodded an acknowledgement. "Yes. Why?"

"I thought so. You were showing an ... aura, kind of a golden glow, as you used your magic. You looked very confident and poised."

"I ... used magic?" I stammered, flabbergasted by his comment. "How ... how is ... Debra?"

Mr. Lodgeman smiled. "You collapse from using too much magical energy, and your first concern is Cornflower? You really are Ptesanwi, showing concern for others before yourself." He chuckled. "She's doing okay. You did a major, and I mean major, healing spell, and probably saved her life. The first spell in the shop that slowed the bleeding helped stabilized her long enough to get her here. If you hadn't done that, she'd have bled out. Then the healing you did here saved her."

"It may have been while I was unconscious, but ... I was with her, in dream space. We were Ptesanwi, and we dream-walked to her to help her calm herself and to focus her internal energy on healing." I didn't tell them all the details of the dream-walk, because such things were intensely personal, even though I had had to distract Debra from her injuries, pain, and sense of panic long enough to allow her to refocus on healing.

"I'm going to retire. With Wakan Tanka and Ptesanwi around, who needs a mere shaman?" I saw Mr. Lodgeman's grin and his wink, and I knew he was kidding me. "Cornflower is stabilized, and her torn artery has regenerated. But there was something in that energy blast that she absorbed that is interfering with her ability to regenerate."

"And that means ...." I knew what Mr. Lodgeman was implying, but I wanted to hear it from his own lips.

Mr. Lodgeman winced. "You're going to need to heal her at least twice more to fully repair the injury."

"Okay," I answered simply. There was no question about whether I'd help her. She had treated me like a friend, or a sister, and I was genuinely relieved that I could help Debra. In the healing, the two of us had shared a dream-walking experience that gave us a bond that few would ever understand. For the first time since my mutation, I felt genuinely good about myself. My stomach's growling reminded me that, though I was emotionally satisfied at that moment, I still had need of feeding my physical body. "Uh, I'm kind of hungry, so can I get something to eat? And then I might as well get started on another healing."

Mom laughed nervously at my priority on eating, and after I cleaned up and made myself presentable, we caught the tail end of the breakfast service. The food selection was a bit lacking, since it had already been picked-over, but there was more than enough to satisfy my hunger. As I was finishing, Wish List stuck her head in the cafeteria. "If you're up to it, Cornflower is awake and wants to talk to you," she said to me.

With mixed eagerness and trepidation, I followed Wish List to Debra's room in the medical and lab wing, with Mom and Mr. Lodgeman following me at my elbows to catch me if I stumbled or passed out again. I could still faintly detect strange, sweet smell of the herbs I'd used in the concoction Wakan Tanka helped me make.

Debra was lying on her back, and though she was pale from blood loss, she looked pretty good for someone who'd nearly died a few hours earlier. She had an IV in her arm to highlight the seriousness of her remaining injury. The markings I'd painted on her were still present, making her look a bit like a blonde Native American. I went to her bedside. "Hi," I said uncertainly. "I heard you wanted to talk to me."

Debra grasped my hand firmly and pulled me down to sit on the edge of her bed. "Mr. Lodgeman told me that you saved my life. Thank you." Her eyes were moist, I figured out of gratitude for what Wakan Tanka and I had done to help her.

I blushed at the attention; I wasn't worthy of any congratulations or thanks or such. Frankly, it embarrassed me for them to improperly give me credit for something that I hadn't done. "It wasn't me," I protested. "It was the spirit that rattles around in my head," I said softly. I didn't like being in the spotlight, at least not as Kayda. "Besides, you didn't need me. Mr. Lodgeman is a good healer."

"Not nearly as good as you, young lady," Mr. Lodgeman said firmly from over my shoulder. "The only one I've ever seen heal better than you is Dr. Tenent at Whateley, and she's a very powerful magic healer. It was the strangest thing. It was like your healing spell temporarily gave Debra regen four or five power through whatever ritual it was you did. "

I blushed at the recognition of what I'd done. Recognition wasn’t why I'd done it. "You said I'll need to do another healing spell or two." Mr. Lodgeman nodded. "I'll do one now, if I can use your medicine bag. Wakan Tanka said it will be more effective if we're alone, too."

Mr. Lodgeman handed me his medicine pouch. "I understand." He took Mom's and Wish List's elbows and led them out of Debra's room, closing the door on the way out.

I prepared the herbs, and then rummaged through many cabinets of medical supplies until I found a plastic container.

While I readied the supplies for the healing spell, Debra fidgeted a little bit. "I ... I had a dream," Debra began softly, hesitancy in her voice, "that you came to me, to calm me and comfort me."

I nodded slowly, pretty certain where this was going and not sure that I liked the destination. "Wakan Tanka directed me to come to you in dream space, as a dream-walker, to help soothe you and focus your energies on completing the healing. In dream-space, I also made you some healing tea, which I know from personal experience crossed the divide and helped you in the real world, too." I looked down, ashamed of what I'd done. "I'm sorry that I violated your dream-world without your permission. Even though it was an emergency, it doesn't excuse the intrusion in your private space."

"You saved my life. You have no need to apologize. I ...," she looked away from me, and showed a little color in her cheeks as she blushed. "I dreamed that ... you, that we ...."

"I kissed you," I said bluntly, still too embarrassed to look at her. "In the dream-world, you were in great pain, and very hysterical, which is quite understandable considering how badly you were hurt. Kissing you was the first thing I could think of to get your attention away from the injury." I glanced up saw her looking at me with a strange expression. "But it was in dream-space." I didn't understand why I felt it necessary to add that last bit.

Debra looked at me with her pretty blue eyes. Damn, but she's a hot woman, I thought. "I ... I kind of remember ...."

I knew what she was going to say, and it was going to be embarrassing to both her and me. I had to tell her, though, because Wakan Tanka had made me promise to not keep secrets from a dream-walk. "You ... you kissed me back, and ... it was nice. It ... it was ... a pretty long, pretty nice kiss. And ... I was pretty sure that you wanted to be closer than just kissing." I looked down again, feeling my cheeks burning, "I guess I did too. But it wouldn't have been right, and besides, you were too weak. And I think it was my old 'guy' thinking. I don't know."

"Yeah," Debra said with a strange lilt to her voice.

"I'm going to do the same spell I used last night," I explained as I pulled the linens down to expose Debra's injured legs. Gently, I removed the bandaging, fighting the urge to hurl my breakfast at the sight of the grisly crater still remaining in Debra's leg. Fortunately, she was too weak to sit up, so she didn't know how bad the injury was.

"Okay. The doctor told me that it worked pretty well yesterday." She sounded more confident of my magical healing ability than I felt.

The chanting over the medicine brew was smoother, but Wakan Tanka still had to guide me through the complex spell. I completed the magic on the liquid. I paused, remembering how I'd collapsed the last time I'd tried the spell.

"What's wrong?" Debra had noticed my hesitation.

"Uh, nothing," I lied.

Debra didn't buy it. "What's wrong?" she asked again, more insistently.

"Yesterday, I used so much magical power that I collapsed and was out of it for over twelve hours." I sighed. "It's a risk I'll have to take." I began to incant and paint on Debra, just like I'd done. As I finished the spell and sprinkled the reddish-brown liquid on the open wound, a bright flash nearly blinded me, and I staggered and dropped the cup, barely making it to a chair before I collapsed again.

**********

I sat wearily on the log in the fire circle, with Wakan Tanka to my left. Debra sat to my right. She looked pale, and weak, but much better than she had in the dream-walk from last night.

"You are selfless, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said. "You thought first of your friend. I knew we had chosen well."

"I ... I couldn't let her be hurt," I said. "Not after all the League has done for us."

Debra had scooted a bit closer to me. "What's she saying?" she asked timidly.

I chuckled. "She's trying to convince me that I'm selfless and worthy of having her spirit."

"I think you are," Debra responded.

"And you are, too," I rebutted. "You took that hit that was meant for Mom and me."

Debra smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "It's part of the job. Protect people and all." I turned my gaze from the fire to her, and before I knew it, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me very passionately.

After we broke the kiss, I stammered, "What was that for?"

"For saving me. Because I enjoyed it when you kissed me to distract me last night. Because I wanted to."

**********

A firm shake on my shoulders woke me from my slumber. Groggy, I looked around; I was lying on my bed again. "How long?" I asked simply.

Mom took a deep breath. "It's six in the afternoon. How are you feeling?"

"Tired." I slowly sat up, but when I tried to swing my legs over the edge of my bed, Mom pushed me back. "How did I get here?" I scooted until my back was against the headboard.

"Mr. Lodgeman told me you'd finished the magic, and were in dream-space. We came in and found you passed out in a chair beside Debra's bed."

"How is she? Did ... did it work?"

Mom smiled. "She's fine. Charlie thinks that with one more healing spell, she won't even have a scar from the wound. Now, you rest here, and I'll bring you something to eat. You're probably starving."

**********

Black Hills, between HPARC and Crazy Horse

Sitting passively in the two-person travel pod for the pneumatically-powered trip from HPARC to the Native American College outside Custer, Dr. Schmidt couldn't help but scowl as he read the reports, and he visibly winced as he scanned the pictures from the devastated campsite. By special arrangement, all the local law-enforcement agencies and federal agencies shared their data with the HPARC, because there were far too many unexplained happenings in the Black Hills, and with the rise in investigations of paranormal and mutant activities, it was prudent to make sure every possible angle was covered.

Reports like this one, however, were highly disturbing, and the images made him glad he'd had a very light breakfast so he didn't empty his stomach's contents in the small travel pod. The slaughter at the campsite, for it could be called nothing but slaughter, was horrific. From the human remains and the pattern of damage, it seemed that whatever had attacked the camp was very large, and had a bite radius of about two-and-a-half feet. Despite that, the news was calling this a savage mauling by bears, in an effort to still paranoia among the populace. Schmidt was certain that it wasn't a bear, or a mountain lion, or any other native wildlife. That only left paranormal answers. Further, the survivors were still catatonic and not responding to any stimuli, making him think that they'd had a paranormal encounter that had so traumatized them that it essentially shut down part of their brains, even the one who'd been forty or fifty yards away taking a leak.

The pod glided out of the main circulating airstream of the immense pneumatic loop and into a loading bay. Under automatic control of the maglev system, it was guided into a parking spot, and settled onto solid ground. The door opened with a hiss, and Dr. Schmidt climbed out. A graceful, wise-looking older Native American woman stepped to his side, smiling. "Dr. Schmidt, it's good to see you again." She clutched his hand in hers.

"Dr. Two Bears," Schmidt replied, "it's always good to see you. I just wish we could meet under less ... unusual circumstances. And please, call me Ernst."

The woman chuckled. "Only if you call me Hazel. Now that we have that little ritual out of the way, what mystery do you have for me to investigate today?"

The contrast between the two was striking. Ernst was young, perhaps thirty-five, tall and skinny, with close-cropped light-brown hair. His blue eyes blazed with the energy of someone who always needed to be doing something, to keep his mind active. Hazel, on the other hand, was somewhere between sixty-five and eighty; it was difficult to tell. She wore the wrinkles and lines on her face with pride, advertising her experience in a way that practically commanded people to show her respect. Her eyes were brown, beneath a long white mop of hair that was always, as today, held in a rough braid, as if the effort of grooming was of little importance to her. Ernst wore a tie and dress shirt; Hazel wore a T-shirt and jeans.

"Two things, and I hope they're not related," Ernst said as they walked from the pod bay into the underground part of the research center, clearing a security checkpoint with their ID cards. "First, our sensors have picked up some unusual psychic energy waves coming to and from our level 10 confinement area." They talked as they strode purposefully through the facility.

Hazel frowned heavily. "I thought that was warded and protected."

Ernst frowned. "It is. That's what's worrisome. Something inside is talking to something outside, we believe, even though they shouldn't be able to/"

"And with what you’ve got down there ...."

Ernst nodded. "Exactly." He handed his tablet to Hazel as they sat down in her office, eschewing the desk and formal chairs and instead plopping on a comfortable, old sofa. "We'd like you to look at the data and see if there's any pattern you recognize."

"You think it's Native American?"

Ernst nodded again. "Yes. And then there's the second part. You heard about the scout troop?" He saw her grim nod. "There's a lot more to the story than is in the papers. One of our psychics tried to work with the surviving boys. He hit a wall of psychically-induced fear that was practically impenetrable. Something didn't even touch these boys, but induced fear from almost fifty yards away."

Hazel looked thoughtful. "That could indicate a number of demons." She frowned. "It's too bad we can't get a true shaman to try to work with these boys."

"I might have an angle on that. Meanwhile, see if you can make any sense of this. I'm afraid this isn't in my area of expertise."

**********

Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Sioux Falls League Headquarters

After one final healing and dream-walk the night before, Debra's leg was completely healed. As Mr. Lodgeman had predicted, the spell healed so thoroughly that there wasn't even a scar.

Balancing the heavy tray, I knocked on the door casing. "Room service," I said with a grin.

Debra was sitting up in her bed. "Come in," she laughed. "Medic, healer, and now waitress? You're pretty versatile."

I set the tray on one of the hospital bed things, and rolled it over her lap.

"What? No Eggs Benedict? No crepes?"

"You're lucky it's not hospital food," I giggled.

She looked at the food for a few seconds, and then leaned back with a heavy sigh. "Uh, Kayda?"

"Yeah?" I didn't like the nervous sound in her voice.

"I think we need to talk."

I sat down in a chair and looked at my hands in my lap. "I kind of figured that."

"I ... I wasn't trying to start anything like a romance with you," she said softly. "I wanted to be your friend first, because ...."

I nodded knowingly. "Yeah. The age thing."

"But with the dream-walking ... we kind of got one, didn't we? A relationship, I mean."

"In the dream world, yeah. I think so. But in the real world ...."

"I know. We have to keep it as friends." She looked down at her breakfast. "

Debra looked at me with doe-like innocence. From the trembling of her lip, I could tell that she was trying to think of the right words to say to me. "I wish you were older," she blurted out so softly that I wasn't supposed to hear.

"What?" I asked after I quickly decided to let her think that I hadn't heard, saving her from further embarrassment.

"I was just thinking," she said, trying to recover from the fact that I'd heard something, but she wasn't sure how _much_ I'd heard. "I wish I had a big picture to remember you. If you don't mind, I'd like to make one of your pictures into a nice poster for my room. My hero and rescuer, you know," she added with a coy smile, causing me to blush. I could tell that she was thinking of more, especially since some of the pictures were quite racy and daring. "And if I did, would you please sign it for me?"

I smiled. "Of course," I said before grinning and giggling. "Are you sure it's not to help keep you warm during the cold winter months, thinking about kissing me for real instead of just in the dream-world?"

It was Debra's turn to blush. Damn, but even blushing, she was one fine-looking woman, and I got tingly all the way to my toes thinking about kissing her.

I _knew_ that I should feel good about having helped Debra, and that someone like Mr. Lodgeman, who was, apparently of high repute among Whateley alumni, was impressed by my powers, but I couldn't get myself in a good mood. Mom and I were virtual prisoners; even though the cage was gilded and comfortable, we dared not go out. All we could do was to wait for the temporary MID, and until we had that, Mom couldn't even make plane reservations. And Mr. Lodgeman had flown west on some last-minute, very urgent business in the Black Hills.

From what I'd read in the brochure, students were already at Whateley, and that was even more depressing to think about. The longer it took to get my temporary MID, the further behind I was going to be, and the more I was going to be socially isolated. And I had nothing to do. At home, I would at least have had my math books. Here, I had nothing. I'd mentioned it to Wish List mid-afternoon.

After lunch, I returned to my room, still in a funk. I was stuck, prisoner in an underground bunker, unable to get to Whateley, and if or when I did, I was going to be late, and be seen as 'the new kid'. I hadn't healed Debra; that was all Wakan Tanka's doing. To be honest, I _wanted_ to feel sorry for myself. I wanted to be in a funk. I was therefore highly surprised, and pleasantly so, when Wish List came in with an armful of graduate-level math books in my room. I looked at her, both puzzled and grateful. "Thanks," I stammered.

"Think nothing of it. Your mom suggested that these might help keep you occupied. Augustana College has some advanced degrees and the classes and books to go with it. It's no MIT, but ...." she shrugged and grinned.

"You didn't have to ...." I started to protest.

"Nonsense! It was only a few minutes away, and after what you did for Debra, how could I _not_ help you out a bit?"

"That wasn't me," I mumbled, curling my knees up to my chest. "That was Wakan Tanka that helped her."

Wish List sat down beside me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "Shhh," she said, halfway between comforting me and scolding me. "_You_ did it. Walkie Talkie may have worked through you ...,"

"Wakan Tanka," I corrected her.

"Whatever. Without you, she couldn't have helped Debra."

"See, I'm just useless. She did everything. If you had to count on me, Debra would have died, and it would have been my fault because I'm so useless!" I wasn't listening to her message, but was getting deeper into my funk over the whole thing, convinced as I was that I had no real role in helping her, nor that I'd have any kind of social life if I ever even got to Whateley.

"Honey," Wish List said firmly, grasping my hand, "you need to learn a few things about Avatars, since you are one. You and your spirit ...."

"Spirits," I said bitterly, wishing that they had never come to me, because all they'd done was to mess up my life by making me mutate.

"You and your _spirits_ are one. You are joined, no longer separable. After you mutated, they chose you because they sense that you're special." She saw he look on my face and nodded. "Your mutation wasn't caused by their spirits, but it made you able to join with them. You would have mutated one way or the other without them. Now that you are joined, you need to know that you cannot work without them, and they cannot work without you. You get the power of the spirits, and they get a channel to the physical world."

"You don't understand! I've lost _everything_! Every fucking thing I ever cared about! I lost my friends - hell, they tried to fucking _kill_ me - twice! I lost my girlfriend. I lost my hobbies; I lost every bit of a social life I had. I'll _never_ get to restore Grandpa's car that he specifically gave _me_. I liked my school, but I can't go back there. I can't ever go back to my family, even. And I lost ...." As tears poured from my eyes, my voice trailed off. I'd probably said too much already.

Wish List hugged me with tenderness and sympathy. "Your gender isn't everything, you know," she whispered soothingly.

I was too depressed to realize that she knew something that was supposed to be kept secret. "It _was_ a part of my identity. Now I don't know who I am anymore," I bawled. I was too down and upset to even try to pretend that I didn't know what she was talking about. "And everyone knows what kind of freak I am, too."

Wish List smiled. "The _only_ reason that I know because your mom needed some help and advice filling out the Whateley application," she reassured me. "No-one else in the center knows. Your mom isn't going around advertising it, I'm not, and if Debra knows, she's keeping her mouth shut, too."

I wasn't relieved. There were far too many people who were learning of my gender-swap for me to feel comforted. All it would take would be one nutcase or one slip-of-the-tongue, and I'd be in serious trouble, or even killed, as a gender-queer freak, especially in a redneck, intolerant state like South Dakota. "What's wrong with me?" I cried. "I ... I changed into a girl! I'm supposed to be a guy. Why aren't I freaking out about that? Why doesn't that make me angry or sad or something? I feel ... like I should be upset, and I'm upset that it doesn't bother me! And I ...." I wiped at my eyes. "Does that make any sense?"

Wish List held me tighter. "It makes perfect sense. You _should_ be upset. It's a huge change. But think of it this way. Since your change, have you had _time_ to think about what the change has done to you, or to grieve the loss of your body? Or have you been too busy to think?"

"I ...," I started to say, but I paused as her words sank in. "I guess ... I haven't really had time to think." I reflected for a moment on everything that happened. "Do you think that maybe ... Wakan Tanka changed me - in my head - so I wouldn't think about things?"

"Maybe. And maybe it's that stinky brew you keep chanting over."

"Hey," I frowned. "Wakan Tanka's tea isn't stinky!"

"What's it for, anyway?" Wish List asked.

"It's ... a healing spell and tea," I answered. "When they beat me up, Wakan Tanka made it for me to help me heal. It also helped me calm down emotionally."

"So it's some kind of liquid tranquilizer, too?"

I shook my head. "Wakan Tanka taught me that it's to heal one's spirit as well as one's body." I had a flash of understanding. "Do you think," I asked, my mouth hanging half-open, "that the tea is helping me accept the changes ... in my mind?"

"It's possible," Wish List speculated. "To Walkie Talkie, healing you in mind might be the same as helping - or forcing - you to accept your gender change. If I were you, I'd talk to her about it the next time I had a chance."

I sighed. "It's weird - I know I should be upset, but the only thing I'm afraid of _now_ is people knowing and hating me, or making fun of me, because I changed." Damned hormones were making my eyes leak again.

She must have read my concern, because she quickly added, patting me on the back, "I promise I won't tell anyone." She lifted my chin so I was looking right into her eyes. "I promise."

"Okay," I said reluctantly. "But I'm still stuck in this hole!" I complained with renewed vigor.

Wish List sighed. "At least you're not in an MCO holding cell," she offered.

"I may just as well be," I cried, not bothering to wipe away my tears. "Every day, I get further behind in classes, and all the social groups there. The clubs have probably rushed all their new members, and everyone has made new friends, while I'm stuck here. By the time I get there, _if_ I ever get there, I'll be such an outsider that I just as well not go."

Wish List was at a loss for words. She might have wanted to deny that I was right, but I think she knew that I'd see through the lie, and that anything she tried to say wouldn't do much to comfort me. Instead, she pulled me close and held me while I cried.

**********

The gym should have been a distraction from my restlessness, but even that was discouraging, since the weight set went into tons, not tens and hundreds of pounds. I felt like a weakling, and my self-image wasn't bolstered when I discovered that the special treadmill could go to over one hundred miles per hour. My top speed of just over thirty-five seemed impressive, until one of the interns did ninety on the blasted machine. I tried to work out for almost forty-five minutes, but honestly, it was depressing to watch mutants with _real_ powers putting me to shame. I was a girl, and a weak mutant with meager powers compared to the others here. It didn't help my self-confidence or self-image. And the whole thing with Debra had my emotions awhirl. Dream-walking had been necessary to help her heal, but it had also been very personal, and I was definitely attracted to her, even though circumstances dictated that we could never have a relationship.

I retreated to my room and spent time studying the math books Wish List had gotten me. I was reading considerably faster, and yet my comprehension was still at the same high level, if not slightly better. Was that something that came with being an Exemplar? If so, it would make studying easier, but it would be a killer for leisurely reading of novels and such. What's the point of trying to relax by a fireplace on a cold winter night with a novel if you can finish it in forty minutes? It'd take a stack of novels to keep me entertained for just one evening.

I was frustrated about my unwanted sex-change, and I was even more upset that it wasn't bothering me as much as I thought it should. I was a freakin' girl, for pity's sake, after growing up a boy! I had tits, and female naughty-bits, and I'd long since lost my buddy Little Brandon and his sidekicks - and it didn't seem to matter! Why couldn't I cry or get angry about what my mutation - or Wakan Tanka had done to me? She'd changed my whole life, without asking. I knew that she was probably powerful enough to make me never worry about being a girl, but she'd promised me that I was in control. Was I? Was that magic tea changing me mentally despite her promise? The only thing I could conclude, after many hours of thinking on the subject, was that I was pretty messed up mentally, and thanks to Debra, emotionally as well.

To add to that mess, nothing was happening on my MID, which continued to frustrate and infuriate me. Wish List, Debra, and Mom tried to keep my spirits up with conversation, games, movies, and so on, but I couldn't stay distracted. My mood was sinking fast, and I think everyone noticed. I wasn't distracted by their efforts to cheer me, because once a person gets so wrapped up in self-pity, it's really difficult for others to pull them out of their funk unless _they_ want to get straightened out, and at that point, I didn't want to do anything but wallow in my misery.

Debra had me talk to the doctor, who confirmed that since I was an exemplar and had evidence of regeneration ability, no dosage of anti-depressants would ever do me any good. That cheered me and depressed me at the same time; I felt cared-for and loved since they were concerned about my mental well-being, but I was also bummed that my mental state was all in my control, with no ability to ever get pharmaceutical help. As bad as I felt at that point, I had no idea of how I was ever going to pull myself out of my funk.

Tractor popped his head into the television room as I sat slumped in the couch, barely attentive to whatever movie was playing. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Okay, I guess," I replied unenthusiastically.

"Your mom said you've got some interest in academics," he said, still standing in the doorway and bearing a curious expression.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Do you like history?"

"I suppose so. Some parts are okay."

Tractor grinned. "Come with me." Without waiting for me to disagree, he marched toward the living apartment area, making me almost run to catch up to him. "Where are we going?" I demanded as I got to his side. He said nothing, but just grinned, as we went to his apartment.

One entire wall of Tractor's apartment was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, and it was packed with books. Books spilled out of the shelves into a few stacks on the floor, and onto the coffee and end tables. He stepped to one section and scanned the book titles as he caressed the bindings of the books. "Your mom said you're good in math."

"I guess. I'm working on college level stuff when I get some free time. And when I have my books with me."

"So I suppose you know the origins of math, right?"

"I guess," I answered, puzzled by his question and the knowing grin on his face.

"What civilization was most important for early mathematical discoveries?" he asked. Before I could answer, he continued, "Can you name a dozen important mathematicians from that civilization, tell me where they're from, and why the discoveries were important to the civilization at that time?"

He'd piqued my interest when he asked about math. "Greece, I suppose," I answered. "And some of the important guys are Euclid, Pythagoras, Eratosthenes ... there's a whole bunch of them."

"How about Hypatia?" Tractor asked with a smug smile.

"Uh," I replied, a little perplexed. "I've heard of her, I think."

"How about Menelaeus? Dicearchus? Hipparchus?"

"Okay," I muttered, "so there are a lot of them that I _don't_ know. And I don't know all that other stuff that you were talking about - when and where they lived, why it was important at the time ..."

Tractor pulled down a book that he'd obviously been thinking of, and held it out to me. "This is the first volume of a six-volume set of history of ancient Greece. All those questions, and more, are answered in these volumes."

I warily took the book and cracked it open, looking at a random page. In a brief scan, I saw that this section was dealing with the trade interactions of the Middle Minoan and Middle Helladic eras of the Aegean civilizations. It didn't have much to do with math, or mathematicians, but it was strangely interesting to me. However, being a somewhat stubborn teenager, I tried hard not to show that interest, instead handing the book back to Tractor and scanning the book shelves.

He had a larger personal library of books in his apartment than the library at my former school, and from what I could see, most were related to history. "I take it you like history?" I asked, trying to sound uninterested, even though my curiosity had been stirred.

"You could say that," Tractor answered. "Everything from ancient civilizations in both the old and new worlds, up through Viet Nam. History tends to run in cycles, so if you understand the past, you can be prepared for the future."

"I thought Vanity Girl said you have an almost eidetic memory," I continued, confused at the sheer number of books in his collection.

"Not quite," Tractor answered, smiling, "but close."

"So why _do_ you own all these books? They take up a lot of space. Couldn't you just borrow them from a college library or something, and then send them back once you've read them and know what's in them?"

"I understand you like classic cars," Tractor changed the subject so abruptly that I almost got mental whiplash.

"Uh, yeah," I replied, baffled. "So?"

"And you were working to restore a car?" Again I nodded. "Why don't you just get a lot of pictures of the car? It'd cost a lot less, and you wouldn't have to do as much work."

"That's not the point," I grumbled. "It's ... better to own the car, to feel it working, to repair it and understand first-hand how it works. Pictures aren't the same thing."

Tractor just grinned, and let me think about what I'd said. Slowly, the answer dawned on me, and my cheeks flushed. "Oh," I answered. I'd made his point for him. "You own the books because you can touch them and re-read them and feel closer to the history." I felt a little dumb at that moment.

"Precisely. They're _my_ connection to the past. Now, if you get bored, feel free to borrow a book. Just please let me know what you're reading. If you want, we can discuss a topic after you read about it."

I worked on Abstract Algebra for a while that afternoon, and glumly realized that, at my rate of work, I'd probably be done with it in two weeks, three tops. Even as I worked, though, I couldn’t get my mind off of the history books. Perhaps Tractor was right in thinking that understanding the men and times behind the mathematical discoveries was as important as the math itself. Certainly, if nothing else, there were stories to be learned that could be entertaining or distracting.

I went on-line to the Augustana College bookstore to see what math books they had, and sadly, there wasn't a lot that interested me. With the books Wish List had gotten for me, I could work on advanced numerical analysis, complex analysis, or numerical linear algebra. I really wanted to dig into cryptography theory and applied cryptography, which would require a foundation in finite math. Unfortunately, the books Wish List had purchased for me didn't include anything in my preferred subjects, and the college bookstore wasn't listing any relevant books.

After dinner, I sneaked into Tractor's library and borrowed the large tome on ancient Greece that he'd piqued my interest with, realizing that he probably knew I'd come back to get that book. I figured if I was going to learn something about history, I might as well start near the beginning. It was something to do to keep from going crazy, even if I did figure it would be boring. A quick look at a timeline was daunting; the tome started with the Bronze Age of Greece, through the Mycenaean period of the late Bronze Age, and into the Dark Ages following the general collapse of bronze age civilizations. Then it went through Archaic Greece, the Classic era, and into Hellenistic Greece, and then into Roman Greece in later volumes. I was rather dismayed that this rather massive book was the first of six volumes on the topic, which meant that there was a _lot_ of history that I didn't know. I sighed to myself and considered reading something simpler, like War and Peace. This was bound to be quite boring.

I figured wrong. I'd heard some terms like the Mycenaean and Minoan civilizations, but I hadn't realized what they were or how they fit into history, because, after all, to my teenage mind, they weren't girls, cars, or math (and not necessarily in that order). I suppose that it would have been difficult before my mutation to keep straight all the dates and periods- Minoan on Crete, Hellenic on mainland Greece, and Cycladic on the Greek islands - but my improved memory and recall made it easy to keep all the dates and facts organized as I plowed through the book detailing the culture, art, architecture, agriculture, and trade interactions of these three distinct groups as the Bronze Age unfolded on the pages. It was a shock to discover that this history was almost as intriguing to me as math, and by the time I put the book down about one in the morning, I'd read up through the Middle Minoan period, but I'd barely scratched the surface of ancient Greek history. A part of me was starting to think about how the ancient Greek civilizations were subsumed into the Roman Empire, but that would have to wait, because I liked my history neat and in order, not skipping about willy-nilly.

History was turning out to be like crack cocaine - something powerfully addictive and alluring. I felt a thrill as new facts poured into my head from the pages, and as I read, I wanted to learn more and more. I realized, as the night wore on, that I was hooked, that I was becoming a history-junkie.

**********

Thursday, March 8, 2007

After breakfast, Tractor took me aside and asked me how I liked ancient Greek history, since he'd noted, with some smug satisfaction, that I'd borrowed the book. We went into a quiet room, whereupon he grilled me on the Bronze Age of Greek history. As a tutor, he was extremely thorough, but when I finally answered all his questions satisfactorily, he smiled, patted my hand in a fatherly way, gave me an assignment for that night's reading, and then, whistling pleasantly, strode out, leaving me quite baffled. It was a case of not judging a book by the cover. At first glance, being a brick and wearing his farm get-up, I figured him to be a grunt type, all muscle and no brain. It turned out I was completely wrong; Tractor was extremely smart, had a master's degree in history, and was working on his doctorate when he wasn't superheroing. He just used his appearance to disarm those around him.

Tatanka gazed out over the forests, with me standing beside him. "Your friend knows the lessons of wiciteglega, the raccoon. Do you know what the lesson is?"

"He ... He appears less than he is. His appearance deceives those around him, giving him advantages."

"And so must you," Tatanka concluded the brief refresher lesson.

After lunch, Wish List and Debra got permission to take me up into the mall to do some shopping. While I usually loathed the idea of shopping, the thought of getting out of the coop for a bit was enticing, even if it did mean 'girl shopping'. And when I say girl shopping, I mean real girl-shopping. After our last shopping outing, I was very nervous about the possibility of a repeat adventure, but Wish List and Debra reassured me. At the last minute, Vanity Girl and Card Trick joined us, making it a large all-girl's shopping adventure. Mom declined to participate, noting that she was tired, but she gave me her credit card so we wouldn't be a burden on the group, and we went on our adventure.

In retrospect, I should have known that it was going to be another torture session like Mom had put me through shopping, or at the very least, a cram course in being a young lady. We started by stocking up on lingerie for me, which had been embarrassing enough when I'd had to do that with just mom, but with the girls along, it got ... interesting, and quite embarrassing. Their thoughts of what a girl should have for lingerie didn't match my thoughts at all, and they had fun making me try on lots of different undergarments, from corsets to bustiers, teddies to garter belts. I know I was blushing a lot when I had to model for the girls, but never more so than when I occasionally noticed a very appreciative, lustful look in Debra's eyes. Every time I saw that look, a small part of me wanted to flaunt the underwear even more for her, and the fact that I felt as I did added to my embarrassment.

We got manicures, which I really didn't like, but the artist doing my nails really understood my motif, which was Lakota symbols, and my nails ended up looking very nice with painted symbols on a light tan background. They wanted to get me a pedicure, but I drew the line at that. I got my ears pierced, like Mom had wanted, and the studs they put in also had a Lakota theme. I bought a few more sets of earrings that had the Indian theme, including one pair that looked like miniature dream catchers. I wasn't going to, but when Debra started ranting about how cute they looked on me, I couldn't resist. I hoped that Tatanka would appreciate the buffalo earrings I got as well, as a tribute to him.

We paused once in our rounds to eat at one of my favorite fast-food restaurants, Taco Johns, which is located primarily in the upper Midwest. It's not authentic Mexican food, but their taco burgers are to die for! Debra ate eleven of them as a mid-afternoon snack. I doubted I'd see another TJs once I went to Whateley; the fast food restaurants there probably served maple-syrup covered pancakes, codfish, and concoctions of clam chowder and lobster. Yes, I was being stereotypical, but I figured it was all in fun, and Debra got a laugh out of my jokes.

There was a wonderful store of Native American crafts and such, primarily for tourists, but Debra talked to the manager, and we went into a back room filled with more exclusive merchandise that _wasn't_ for tourists. I was measured for a buckskin dress and custom moccasins, like I wore in dream-space, beaded with the symbol of Ptesanwi and Tatanka. The proprietor was Lakota, so we talked some in that language, confounding Wish List and Debra. He was pleased, and it seemed that he recognized something special in me, because he was very accommodating. It would take a couple of days for my custom clothing to be ready.

Wakan Tanka told me how big of a pouch to get, and when I told the proprietor, he was confused at first. Slowly, though, after I explained that what I needed was a bag sufficient for a medicine woman, and I talked with him about shaman medicine, he understood that I knew what I was talking about, and he bent over backwards to help me. According to Wakan Tanka, I had about half of the supplies I would need for my medicine pouch, so when I asked about the rest, he smiled and said he knew of sources and could have the supplies to me at the same time the dress and moccasins were done. I paid in advance, giving him a generous tip, since he'd been so helpful.

We were all very surprised back at the base when the cook-du-jour had prepared some authentic Mexican food, like chile rellenos, chicken mole, Tampico shrimp, cheese enchiladas, and beef chimichangas, with flan and empanadas for dessert. I don't think Debra really appreciated the food, the way she was shoveling it in; Farm Boy and Tractor had to stop her and make her dish up her plate last so the rest of us could at least sample everything before she wolfed it all down.

After dinner, I worked some on my Abstract Algebra, and then picked up the history book again. Once more, I was up late reading about ancient Greece. Gak - was I more addicted to history than I was to math? The improvements in my recall, which was nearly perfect, and my reading speed were very noticeable, and it was quite satisfying. It should make studying easier. I had also found a new interest, in history of all things. In high school, history was boring, rote memorization of key dates and events. This was much different, coming alive on the pages in way that my old teacher, Mrs. Schmidt, could never have presented the material. Up to then, I'd focused on math, but having found a second area of academic focus seemed ... fun. And geeky. I didn't really care about that; I never had, well not much. I fell asleep sitting up on the bed against the headboard, with the book in my lap - at least that's what Mom told me the next morning.

It was pleasant to sit in by a stream in the prairie, watching the tall grasses dance and sway to the music of the gentle prairie breezes. There was little sound apart from a few birds and the occasional whistling and barking calls of the prairie dogs.

"Nature is as varied as the People," Wakan Tanka said. "Paha Sapa is different from the grassland, which is different from the lands around the Mnisose, the Missouri River as it is called. The maco sica, the Badlands, are different than all of them. And the lands are different with their white winter coats than with their spring flowers or their summer colors. You must learn to be in touch with _all_ of nature."

"And its creatures?"

Tatanka nodded. "The grasslands are the home of the buffalo and the pispiza, the prairie dog."

"What are the important lessons you have to teach me?" I asked Tatanka pointedly. I smiled. "Besides the fact that being big and having horns can be handy?"

Tatanka chuckled. Apparently my question was an indication that I was learning. "Endurance and survival. We live in a harsh land, with winters that are brutal. We are strong, but we are a herd, where our unity gives us protection. What is not obvious is that Tatanka are generous to the People who hunt us, giving everything they need, and thus becoming part of their spirits."

That sounded strange. It was like Tatanka didn't mind that he was hunted by the Lakota.

"What do you think are the lessons from pizpisa?"

I thought a moment, looking out over a prairie dog town. "They are a community. They work together, using whistles and grunts and signals to communicate when danger is near."

"Very good, Wihakayda. Pispiza is one of the creatures that can teach the most, but often, he is overlooked, because people seek strength and courage and independence. Learning the lessons of pispiza is very important to you." He grinned. "There is a saying about the wolf, sugmanitu hota. It is said that he is strong enough to stand alone, independent enough to stand apart, but wise enough to stand together with his pack when necessary."

**********

South Dakota, between the Black Hills and Sioux Falls

A film of inky blackness slithered across the field, pausing every now and again to look at the horizon. Travel was slow; unlike its father, who could be sustained solely on the magical energies of the world, the serpent-creature needed to eat physical food, and pausing to eat slowed its progress. Fortunately, food was plentiful in the form of cattle, even if they weren’t the creature's preferred human prey. Detours from the path to feed weren't the only things delaying down the creature; the sun agonizingly burned into its dark being, forcing it to pause to find or excavate a burrow for the daytime.

The creature could sense its prey; the magical energy radiated by the hybrid of Ptesanwi and the white buffalo was a beacon, practically inviting the creature to locate it and destroy it and its host, just as its father had directed. Like its father, it knew patience. It could stalk its prey for decades if necessary, like its father, playing a game measured in centuries, not in hours or days.

As light began to slowly color the horizon with paler shades of blue, the creature stopped its forward progress and began to dig into the soil, making yet another huge burrow to conceal itself from the destructive rays of the sun. It smiled to itself. Two or three more cycles of the sun, and it would be in position to destroy the enemy of its father. It would not fail.

**********

Friday, March 9, 2007
Sioux Falls League Headquarters

I woke up very early, relaxed and rested from my pleasant dream-walk. I'd spent part of my dream-walk with my spirits, but the other part I'd spent with Debra again, at her invitation. Even though I was still feeling lousy about my situation, at least I wasn't in as dark a mood as I had been two days before. I knew someone had to be up in the duty center, manning the 'bat radio' as Farm Boy called it. I decided to not bother anyone, so I quietly took a shower, dried and brushed my hair, and brushed my teeth. One thing I realized from my shower was that, sooner or later, I was going to have to shave my legs and armpits, and even trim up 'down there'. The stubble on my body was getting more and more noticeable when I washed myself. After the second attack, Mom had trimmed what she could while I was sleeping, and my limbs under my casts had been shaven as well, but now it was growing back and becoming problematic. I hadn't really paid much attention to it at the time, so I was either going to have to educate myself in the process of shaving, or get some help. I initially thought of asking Mom, but that idea perished in a gruesome, deliberate, flaming wreck of epic proportions, because the idea of learning 'girly things' from Mom freaked me out only slightly less than the appearance of an octopoid, cyclopean, drooling, fanged space alien would have.

I knew that Debra would teach me, but I didn't exactly trust myself around her. While I was certain that she wouldn't initiate things, I'd initiated kissing in her the first dream-walk with her, and every time I'd dreamed-walked with her since, we kissed and cuddled some more, which although I found extremely pleasant, it worried me that if I didn't get out of this gilded cage soon, temptation would get the better of the two of us, and we'd do far more with her in my dream-walking experiments. It was also very confusing to know what I'd done; did my initiating things in my dream mean that I was still attracted to girls, even though I was one? That would make me not just a changeling, to use Debra's term, but also a lesbian. On the other hand, I might have been acting out of habit, because I had yet to encounter a situation that allowed attraction to a man to surface. Of course there was Farm Boy, with his glamour, but that didn't count, because it was induced by magic or something, and besides, there was also that strange, irrational fear of him, and seemingly of men in general.

As I thought of the hunky hero, I felt strange warmth inside myself, but an even stronger fear. When I thought about kissing someone, I realized, to my utter shock, that I was thinking about my make-out sessions with Julie, and my dream-walking kissing with Debra. My nipples became erect, and I felt very warm inside my entire body. I didn't know what to think about the idea of still liking girls and being a lesbian, and I fell into my bed, trembling nervously.

When I recovered my composure, I slipped on my pink panties and bra, which Mom had washed for me, and then pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt. I wandered to the kitchen and put a slice of bread in the toaster. While that was toasting, I poured myself a glass of OJ, got out the butter, and found something that vaguely resembled Mom's perfect strawberry preserves I had eaten just a few days earlier. I wasn't a coffee drinker, so I didn't miss the smell of the freshly-brewed beverage, but then I thought of how many people here _were_, so I went ahead and brewed up a pot for everyone else before I retreated to my room. I set my breakfast on a nightstand, picked up a book, and sat down on my bed, my back against the headboard and my knees drawn up so I could use them as an impromptu desk for my book.

I was so engrossed in my math that I didn't notice the passage of time. The author of this math textbook had a much different style of presenting the material than the author of the one I'd left at home. For a bit, I'd been confused by the differences in style, but I quickly got over that and began to delve into the meat of the topic I was learning, finding the change in presentation to be a benefit rather than a hindrance.

A knock on the door interrupted my studies. "Come in," I said, glancing at the clock as I spoke. Holy cow, it was after one in the afternoon!

Mom stuck her head in, and noticed that I was reading a book. She also noticed the half-eaten slice of toast and the partial glass of orange juice. "You missed lunch," she said reprovingly. "I didn't see you up at breakfast time, either, so I figured you were sleeping in.

I put a marker in the book and set it and the notebook I'd been using for working problems on the bed beside me. "I wasn't hungry."

Mom frowned. "Did you at least get anything to eat?"

"Toast and OJ," I answered.

Mom glanced at the nightstand. "I wouldn't call a part of a slice of toast and a third of a glass of juice breakfast," she scolded me.

"I'm okay."

Mom took my hand and pulled me off the bed. From the powers testing, I knew that I was stronger than Mom and could have easily resisted her, and she couldn't have won the tug-of-war, but she was my Mom, and even the thought of not following direction from her was so alien as to be unthinkable, even to a teenager.

"Mom, I was busy with math," I complained. I might not fight Mom, but that didn't stop me from arguing - not that I figured I'd ever win. Still, I was a teen, and there were certain standards I had to uphold, such as occasionally being disagreeable.

Mom didn't even answer. Instead, she led me to the common kitchen. "Wish List saved you some food, because she knew you'd be hungry. We were all surprised that you skipped lunch."

I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

Mom spun me around to face her. "It _is_ a big deal. You're depressed. Everyone can see it. You're spending most of your day hiding in your room sulking."

"Why shouldn't I?" I spat back angrily. "I've lost everything!" I didn't know where my anger and frustration had come from.

"And you gained a tremendous gift that can help people," Mom countered quickly. She paused, and then took my hand, leading me out of the kitchen. I wondered where she was going - for all of two seconds. Then I knew - we were going to Debra's apartment.

Suffice to say that Debra read me the riot act about my mopey, oh-poor-me act. She wouldn't let me get away with thinking that I had nothing to do with her healing. Avatars and their spirits were a team; one couldn't work without the other. I had been critical to helping her heal from what should have been a fatal injury, one that the doctors on staff and even Mr. Lodgeman couldn't have healed her from. I was astounded at that; Mr. Lodgeman was a shaman, and a powerful healer. But he'd told Debra that she was lucky I was there, or she'd have at the very least lost her leg, and probably her life. The surprise came when she asked Mom to leave a moment, and then she asked me if I'd enjoyed dream-walking with her. I was dumbfounded; she obviously had some feelings for me, which both elated and terrified me.

On the one hand, Debra was an absolute babe, one that the old me would have given his left nut to date. She was intelligent, which meant a _lot_ to me, witty, and extremely pretty. On the other hand, I didn't know my sexuality, and - the kicker - I was a minor, so it would be a while before we could get intimate, if that was indeed what I wanted. Damn, this had me baffled. I was very flattered to have someone as attractive as Debra interested in me, but she was interested in me as a _girl_, and I wasn't sure that I was comfortable as a girl yet, or if I ever would be.

After the scolding, we talked about our dream-walk together, almost as if we were talking about a date which we'd been on. It seemed so real to both of us, and it was clear that we both enjoyed the other's company. As we chatted happily, a knock sounded at her door. Mom and Farm Boy peeked in; I had a sudden bad feeling about the interruption.

"We, um, have some news about your MID," Farm Boy said, uneasy at what he had to say. I could tell from his expression that it wasn't going to be good news.

I glanced uneasily at Mom and Debra; Mom moved to my side and put her arm around my shoulders. "Is there any good news?"

Farm Boy sighed. "Maybe. First, let's get through the MCO business. By their regulations, they must issue an MID or a temporary MID within thirty days of an application."

"Thirty days? I'd miss almost a third of the fall term!" I cried, suddenly feeling like I'd been punched in the gut. I had no options besides Whateley, and now even that seemed out of reach. Mom and Dad probably couldn't even safely home-school me because of the anti-mutant sentiment in town. -There were no alternate mutant schools in the area. "I'd just as well not go if miss that much school, especially the way you guys describe the classes." It was so hard to have an escape plan, my only opportunity, torn from my grasp. I put my face on Mom's shoulder and cried. Damned hormones!

"Why? They're usually very quick with MIDs," Debra asked, frowning.

Farm Boy sighed again. "They claim that their resources are busy trying to locate a 'dangerous mutant', and they can't spare the manpower on an MID until that mutant is apprehended."

"Let me guess," Mom said, "the mutant in question is Kayda?"

"Yeah," Farm Boy said with a grim expression.

"For what?" I turned and screamed at him. "Why am I so 'dangerous'?"

"Some high-school students in your home town reported that _you_ attacked _them_. A doctor provided corroborating evidence to support their claims."

"That's a fucking lie!" I screamed angrily. I'm sure that my face, contorted as it was with rage, was not a pleasant thing to behold. "They tried to kill _me_, and now they have the MCO believing it was the other way around? And that mutant-hating asshole Doc Robinson is helping them."

"It's not fair, I know," Farm Boy said sympathetically. "But it's their rules, and they can play the game the way they want to."

"If I were to go in and ask for my MID, I assume that I'd be apprehended, and possibly 'disappear,' right? And if I don't do anything, I miss most of the fall term, and meanwhile go crazy here in this ... prison, until I get there, and then I'll be a social outcast!" My rant sounded irrational, but I was highly distraught and didn't care.

"There may be an alternative," Tractor said from the door. No-one had heard him come in.

"What?" everyone asked at the same time.

"I was on the phone this morning with Charlie Lodgeman and Dr. Schmidt from the Homestake Paranormal Activities Research Complex. HPARC would very much like to research your ... unique ... situation, since your spirits are Native American spirits, and that's HPARC's specialty," he said to me. "A Class three and a class two spirit residing in an avatar is extremely rare, especially given how ... important ... Mr.. Lodgeman believes your spirits are. Powerful avatars have been known to host multiple spirits before, rarely, but they are almost always low level, and most often they fuse together into one thing, like the Champion Force did. Your spirits are independent, and you manifest one of them. Naturally, HPARC wants to learn more. They're willing to fly you on a private jet to the Black Hills for the research, and then to Whateley, so you wouldn't have to deal with the MCO and their MID."

"Why do I think there's a huge 'but' coming?" Debra asked warily.

Tractor smiled wryly. "You don't know how paranormal research facilities work. They want you at the complex for a few days for dedicated research. So you'd miss a few more days of classes, but not nearly as much as if you had to wait the full thirty days for the MCO to get your MID." He shook his head sadly. "And even having an MID is no guarantee that they wouldn't simply just haul you in related to the ... false reports that have implicated you."

"Let me see if I have this clear. I can wait for the MID so Mom and I can fly to Whateley, and then I'd possibly be apprehended anyway as a criminal mutant threat, right? Or I can take up this HPARC deal, and miss more school, but not as much as the MID route, and in exchange, I'm a lab rat for a few days, right? How long would I be at this HPARC place?"

Tractor winced. "From what Dr. Schmidt said, it sounds like he wants to study you for six or seven days."

"Shit!' I cursed loudly. Everyone knew how upset I was and why, and nobody said a thing about my profanity. They knew I needed to vent. "I'm screwed either way, aren't I? I can't win."

Mom frowned. "Why can't I just rent a car and drive her there?"

Debra smiled sadly. "As soon as you rent a car, they'll get the records and backtrack to find you, and then find Kayda. Under the Domestic Security Act, all travel records are automatically sent to the National Security Agency, and there are likely friendly eyes that would let MCO access the data. And if they suspect that you want to go to Whateley, they'll be watching the obvious routes from here to Dunwich." She shook her head. "That's the most dangerous way you could travel. If they stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, it would be easy to have an 'accident' with no witnesses."

"Damn," I cursed. "They have all the cards, and they know it."

Debra walked to me and wrapped her arms around me, temporarily displacing Mom. "I know this is hard for you," she said softly so that I was the only one to hear, "but sometimes, we don't get a choice of optimum solutions, only a list of bad choices. In those situations, the only thing you can do is to select the 'least bad' alternative."

I leaned back a little so I could see into her eyes. "So you're saying that I should go the route of the HPARC flight?"

Debra grinned. "I'm not going to let you put words into my mouth. I've dealt with the press too often to fall for that trick. What I'm saying is that _you_ have to consider your options, with your Mom, of course, and select the one that seems least objectionable to you."

I turned to Mom, and the two of exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. The HPARC flight was the least dangerous to me, even if it started by going the _wrong_ direction. We both knew it. I turned to Tractor. "I think Mom and I need to talk about this," I said somberly.

"And Whateley administration is expecting you, even if you're a bit late," Farm Boy said with a grin.

"What?" Mom and I both said. "The application only went in a couple of days ago! How ...?"

Farm Boy chuckled. "First, Whateley processes applications very quickly, especially if there are extenuating circumstances. Second, due to the nature of the school, students come in all year long, not just at the start of terms. Third, Charlie Lodgeman is on the board of supervisors, so I suspect he may have had a conversation or two with some ... administrators to further expedite your paperwork," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "And Mrs. Carson, the headmistress, knows of your situation, so they'll make allowances in the class scheduling."

Wish List had been standing just inside the doorway, listening, and decided it was time to interject her thoughts. "What if _we_ rent the car in one of our names instead of Mrs. Franks? Or through one of our ... contract agents? The MCO probably wouldn't notice that, and if they did, it'd take a lot longer to put the pieces together, by which time they'd be far from the Sioux Falls MCO office."

Mom and I both perked up. "And of course I'll repay you for the expenses so we don't burden you," Mom insisted. "If you want, I can go to a branch of our bank and transfer you the funds now if you want."

I expected Tractor to push for the HPARC flight, but he surprised me. "You've got two options now, so you need to think about it for a bit before you decide. If you drive, it'll be four days on the road after we get the car and some supplies for you, so you wouldn't be at Whateley until Monday or Tuesday at the earliest. If you fly to HPARC, you'll be there tomorrow by noon, but you'll miss several days of classes while you get tested. I do have to caution you that once ARC gets you in the labs for testing, they may not be ... attentive ... to getting you to school in a timely manner."

"You mean they'll get preoccupied with testing me and forget about what _I_ need?" I asked. Tractor simply nodded.

**********

Rosebud Indian Reservation, South Dakota

"I'm coming," the old, white-haired Lakota man grumbled to no-one, levering himself out of his recliner and shuffling wearily to the ringing phone. "Hello," he said gruffly into the handpiece. "Dan Bear Claws here."

"Good morning, Chief Bear Claws," the caller greeted the old man.

Dan snorted. "I don't use titles. I'm just Dan."

"But you _are_ Chief," the caller objected, "and you are entitled to respect."

"I _was_ a chief. A chief of a poor Nation in a desolate land? With the People scattered? Some title." Dan Bear Claws had seen a lot in his eighty years, and he was understandably jaded by the world.

"What if you could become Chief again, but this time of an important Nation?"

Dan snorted gruffly. "Fat chance of that! We're a poor people on a poor land. Even booms like the oil formations have passed us by. We'll always be poor."

"How important would it be if you had the Sacred Bundle, and other artifacts?" the caller asked.

Dan's eyes widened fractionally. "Don't toy with me. We aren't the keepers of the artifacts. And look how much that's done for the Nation that does keep it."

"Who was going to return for the bundle?" the caller asked enigmatically.

"The bundle came from ...." His eyes widened significantly.

"_She_ has returned."

"What?" Dan's astonishment was complete. "How do you know?"

"I know."

"Where is she? And who are you?"

"She's a girl, a mutant who has her spirit. As for me, I'm one of the People, a kid who grew up in Mission in a poor family. I want to change that for our People."

Dan's mind was racing furiously. If this caller was correct, then it was incumbent on him to find the girl and get her before the Tribal Council to verify that she was indeed who the caller claimed. And if _that_ was true, then the tribe had a legitimate claim to the sacred bundle, and to everything that would come from having the recognized White Buffalo Calf Woman in their tribe. She had promised prosperity, after all. Now he was thinking of ways to make that prophecy come true. "Where is she now?"

"She's in Sioux Falls, in a superhero's headquarters, but she'll be leaving for a private school in the east soon. A school called Whateley Academy."

"Why would she leave the state and the Nation?"

"She's a mutant, and the MCO has accused her of crimes. It's not safe to stay," the caller reported.

Dan Bear Claws' heart raced. "I've heard of Whateley Academy. If she gets there, I have a way to ensure that she doesn't stay. If she can't stay there, she'll have no choice but to come home, because we can keep her safe from the MCO." His scheming was already getting several layers of plot deep. "In the meantime, I'd be grateful if you'd try to keep her from leaving the state until I can meet with her."

"I'll do what I can."

**********

Sioux Falls League Headquarters

I tried hard to distract myself after lunch because I was torn about how I would get to Whateley. I kept weighing the alternatives, and I couldn't come up with a good answer. I could go on the HPARC flight, but it wasn't certain that I'd be in school at Whateley next week if the researchers got carried away. They were paying for the flight, which meant that I'd owe them something in return, and that something was being a guinea pig for an indeterminate time. I was going to be so far behind everyone else, and the social groupings would be even more difficult for me to get into by then. On the other hand, if they rented a car and Mom and I drove, it'd be at least three very long days on the road, probably four since Mom would have to do the driving, and I wouldn't be in school until next Monday or Tuesday, depending on how long it took to get the car.

Mom came into my room, interrupting my attempt to read the ancient Greek history. "What do you think?" she asked tenderly as she sat down on my bed.

I sighed and shook my head. "I don't know."

"What would you rather do?"

"Get to Whateley and get in classes as soon as possible."

"Even if the League thinks it might be a little riskier?" Mom asked.

I looked at her. "Mom," I started, but stopped to think. I didn't want to tell her my major fear - that the kids had probably already formed their friendships and social groups. "I'm starting late, so I'll be way behind on classes already, and every extra day it takes is going to make it even harder to catch up." I couldn't tell her that I feared being a complete outsider, even though that fear was, sometimes, overwhelming - like now. Despite my best efforts, I _did_ start crying as the memories of the very bad year in third grade when I was shunned and isolated socially overwhelmed me, and Mom pulled me to a hug, letting me cry in her shoulder, even if she didn't know the reason why I was so emotionally distraught.

"It'll be okay," Mom said reassuringly. I knew she wasn't certain, but she had to comfort her child when she was in distress. It had to be one of those unwritten rules of being a mother. After about half an hour, I was cried out, and I let Mom ease me back to sitting against the headboard. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

I shook my head, my cheeks still wet. "I'm ... I'm afraid of being a girl," I finally admitted. "There are so many things I don't know about this body. It scares me that I'm not freaked out, or having a fit! I mean, I shouldn't be accepting this so easily, should I?"

"This has been pretty traumatic," Mom explained, "and you've been pretty busy. You probably haven't had time to really think about what all your changes mean to you. I'd guess that _not_ having time to dwell on things will make it easier in the long-run."

"I'm afraid of how guys are going to look at me, and how to react to them," I sobbed again, unable to continue. I don't know if I was emotionally overcome, or just unable to talk about 'that' with my mother.

"And I would guess that the thought of talking with me about those things is kind of weird?" Mom understood far more than I would have thought. "Would you like to talk to Cornflower about ... some of your concerns?" she asked.

"No!" I answered quickly and sharply. I saw the look on Mom's face. "I mean, she's, well, I ... we ...." I shook my head. I didn't want to take any chances with her.

Mom smiled. "I think I understand. After all, she's a very attractive young lady who happens to like girls, and you probably still think a little like a guy and might find her desirable." She chuckled. "And she _did_ put up that cheesecake poster of you in your lingerie."

My cheeks burned. "Yeah," I said, looking down instead of at her.

"How about if both Cornflower and Wish List help you out?" I expected her to be disappointed that I wouldn't want to talk to her about being a girl, but she surprised me and seemed way too understanding. Was it a rule that girls felt awkward talking about things with their moms, but were okay with others near their own age?

"Could you ask them, please?"

"I can do that." She stood and started toward the door, but then looked back. "And just so you don't worry, I talked to your father this morning, and he and Daniel are managing. He told me to take however long it took, and spend whatever it cost, to see to your safety. Ida is helping out, too." Mom's sister Ida was a huge help whenever Mom asked. At times, she was like a second mother to Danny and me.

I had been worried about that. "Thanks, Mom." As she left the room, I looked at my books, but felt no urge to read or study, which was quite unlike me.

A few minutes later, Debra poked her head into my room. "Are you busy?" she asked. When I just shrugged, she came in with Wish List and sat down on the bed near me. "Your mom said that you had some questions, and that you were kind of embarrassed to talk to her about them."

I blushed again, nodding slightly.

Wish List laughed. "Welcome to the club, girlfriend," she said with a grin. "Most girls aren't comfortable talking about 'woman things' with her mom."

"Especially those who weren't girls a few days ago?" I asked, trying to sound lighthearted, but afraid that I sounded sarcastic instead.

"That, too," Debra said, winking at me. "So, what's on your mind?"

That was the question that opened a very long discussion and lessons on being a girl. They started with basic hygiene, including periods, and went to my appearance. After the theory portion of the course, we adjourned to the women's locker room for the laboratory portion of the lessons. I got practice in shaving myself, bathing and cleaning my new parts, and washing and drying my hair. I learned why girls dry their hair the way they do, and how to use a blow dryer with long hair. And while we were doing all of that, we talked about sex. Actually, I think the girls waited until they had a captive audience to begin that discussion. Both of them reassured me that it was _my_ decision if and when I did anything, and that my partner could as easily be another girl as a boy.

They talked about both the physical and emotional aspects of being intimate, and how it could put me in the most vulnerable position emotionally that I'd ever be in, with the strong hint that I had to be sure my partner wouldn't hurt me emotionally. We discussed STDs and pregnancy, and how my being an exemplar and regenerator would limit my choices for birth control, since my body would burn off the hormones in a pill almost immediately.

After getting dressed, we retired to Wish List's room, where the lessons continued, this time in posture and poise, walking, talking, facial expressions, and attire. Finally, I thought I'd had enough. "Stop!" I cried, holding my head like I had a headache. "My brain is full!"

Debra pouted; damned but she looked cute when she did that. "We didn't get to makeup and perfume yet," she whimpered.

So I'm still a sucker for a pretty girl pouting. It was my bane as a boy, and it was turning out to be my bane as a girl. I couldn't help but wonder if Debra was right when she suggested that I was more likely to prefer girls because of my previous sexual attraction to girls. At that moment, it seemed almost a certainty. "Okay, I suppose," I relented.

I shouldn't have. If hair care was tedious, makeup was torture. Once again, I got a lecture in the basics, followed by lab work. Time after time, I put on various components of makeup, and my efforts were critiqued and wiped off so I could try again. Eventually, though, I did a passable job, and when I looked in the mirror, I had to admit that it made me look hotter. Debra recommended that I set up some personal tutoring with a teacher named Mrs. Braithwaite, the home-economics teacher, for more lessons, or I could get one of the older girls with a similar background to help me out.

The crowning moment was when Debra ducked out of the room for a moment, returning with my buckskin dress and all the Lakota accoutrements, including the beaded moccasins. I put them on, with a push-up bra that they'd sneaked in on me, and then they made me do my hair and my makeup all by myself. My buckskin dress had a couple of modifications that I hadn't ordered, but which Debra had obviously gone back to 'correct'. I had a plunging neckline that, with a push-up bra, showed an inviting valley of cleavage. It fit me perfectly, which meant that it hugged my every curve, accentuating them in a most feminine way. The belt was beaded, with a feminine Lakota design that matched my moccasins. I wore the dream-catcher earrings, and had more beadwork holding together the end of my elegant French braid. Okay, I had help on that one, but it was my first day, so the girls let me cheat a little. I wore a simple buffalo charm on a leather thong as a necklace; it complemented my dress perfectly as it dangled just above my cleavage.

I finished, and turned from the vanity, only to see both girls staring at me, wide-eyed. "Uh, is it okay?" I asked. "What did I mess up?"

Debra shook her head slowly. "Girl, you're smokin' hot!" she exclaimed in a sultry voice.

Wish List nodded her agreement. "If you dress up like that at Whateley, you'll have every boy offering to carry your books everywhere!"

Debra winked at me. "And most of the girls from Poe," she whispered in my ear.

I turned and looked in the mirror once again. I was surprised when I really looked at myself; I almost didn't recognize the face staring back at me, I was so pretty. No, I realized, pretty was completely inadequate to describe the girl in the mirror. When I'd been a boy, I'd have given almost anything to date a girl like that. Now, I _was_ that girl. I was confused about how I felt; Wakan Tanka had helped me accept - I think - that I was Ptesanwi, and that I was a beautiful girl. In the dream-world, I felt very comfortable, but then again, the only ones I'd dealt with in the dream-world were Debra, Wakan Tanka, and Tatanka. I wasn't sure I was comfortable being a girl in the real world, except with the girls of the Sioux Falls League. And Wish List's comment about boys scared the hell out of me.

Wish List grabbed my arm. "Let's go to dinner," she said cheerfully, "and show you off."

"But ... like this? In front of everyone?" I stammered, shocked at the idea of others seeing me like this.

"Your mom will be so proud of you," Debra added, taking my other elbow so I couldn't back out.

It was easier to quit fighting them, since their minds were firmly made up, and acquiesce to their suggestions, as if they were ever going to drop the idea, and go with them to the cafeteria. When I walked in, conversations stopped mid-sentence as eyes turned toward me. A few utensils clattered as distracted guys dropped them.

Mom scrambled from her chair and wrapped me in a huge hug. "You look lovely, honey!" she said proudly. I could see that I was having some effect on the other guys in the room as they squirmed uncomfortably. I wanted to chuckle at their discomfort, because I'd been there myself on many occasions when I was Brandon, but I didn't want to embarrass them - too much. And their attraction to me was inducing more than a little nervousness in me.

"You are truly lovely, Wihakayda," I heard Wakan Tanka telling me in my head. "You are prettier than I ever thought you would be."

I couldn't help but grin and blush at the same time at her compliment. I pried myself from my mother's embrace. "Just because I did this once, doesn't mean you should expect to see me made up like this all the time."

"We _have_ to get some picture of you dressed like that with your buffalo!" Debra said enthusiastically, and not a guy in the room disagreed.

"After dinner, maybe," I said non-committally. I had some studies to do, because Tractor was a demanding teacher, and I had an 'assignment' to study - and I needed my daily 'fix' of history! Tractor was also an outstanding mentor on the subject. The problem with finding my fascination with history was that I was falling behind my goal to finish abstract algebra.

But for some reason, I felt less depressed than I had the previous three days. Was it because I was embracing the change and no longer feeling sorry for myself about it, or was it the attention from two very lovely young ladies? Was it because I secretly loved getting attention from my friends in the League, or was it because I relished Mom's approval?

When we finished dinner, Wish List, Debra, and Vanity Girl went with me to a photo studio they had in their headquarters. Like most super-groups, they did most audiovisual and computer production in-house to minimize the chances of their material being 'corrupted' by politicians and villains, to say nothing of the mischief a horny American teenager would do with the digital images of any of the girls.

I suspected something was up when the girls kept Mom away. I was proven right when we did pictures not only some of me in my Indian girl costume, but also with the other girls in their superhero costumes, and we did a lot of playful posing. After Wish List and Vanity Girl were tired of posing for pictures, Debra and I continued, and some of the pictures were in our lingerie, and a bit suggestive. I was certain that Vanity Girl and Wish List stuck around as chaperones. Because I was a minor, the girls had to really promise that those pictures would never, ever, under any circumstances, leave their facilities. I was definitely NOT going to tell Mom about them, let alone Dad!

The hottest picture, by far, was the one where Debra and I were lying face down on a bearskin rug, naked except for our panties, our bodies angled toward the camera so our bodies and legs were at an acute angle. Our knees were bent so our ankles were crossed above our bottoms, and we rested on our elbows, propping up our shoulders and heads. Debra's hands were crossed delicately beneath her chin, giving her a thoughtful look that added to her wide-eyed, pouty-lipped, come-hither expression, while I had one hand extended, clutching a piece on the chess board on the rug between us, playfully smiling like I was about to win. With the lighting and the angles of our bodies, some strong suggestions of our curvy bosoms dangling beneath our chests could be seen, but nothing more than some women exposed in low-cut blouses. Debra's long, wavy blonde hair spilled across her back, while my silky black hair did the same. With the pouty look we both had, it seemed that we were practically begging to be kissed, and there was a naughty innocence about the scene that probably would make guys want to hold us tight and protect us. Tatanka was lying behind the chessboard, St Bernard sized, looking on as if he were a wise referee or chess-master judging our play, or even a guardian and chaperone. It was damned sexy!

We didn't do anything lewd, but merely suggestive, and Debra strongly repeated her opinion that I should try out for Venus Inc. when I got to Whateley, with enthusiastic agreement from Wish List and Vanity Girl. I reminded them that I didn't want Mom to see the pictures; the girls giggled through a half-hearted promise. I had a bad feeling that Mom _was_ going to see them, and I was going to be in a lot of trouble when she did.

After that, we sat in Wish List's bedroom talking and giggling like high-school girls. We talked about everything, or rather, the girls did - dating, makeup, dating, sex, dating, classes at Whateley, dating, how to tell if a guy was 'on the prowl', dating - okay, dating was a dominant subject, and even Debra had some very interesting comments from her slightly-different perspective. We got some snacks from the kitchen and continued the 'party' much later than I'd planned.

I got to my bedroom after eleven, after completely missing any tutorial time with Tractor, but I had been assured that Debra had gotten me a reprieve from my ancient Greek history lesson for the night. For some reason that I couldn't put my finger on, I passed up my shorts and sleep-shirt, instead opting for the nightie that Mom had sneaked into the shopping cart when I wasn't looking, back when we'd been shopping for luggage in Mitchell, our first night on the run that seemed an eternity ago. After brushing my teeth, I stood at the sink, staring at the mirror and absently brushing my hair, noting how silky and shiny it was. Parted in the middle and swept behind my ears, it draped to my shoulders, splitting into locks hanging in the front down to almost hide my nipples, which were visible through the sheer fabric, while other locks fell to my back, lightly tickling my shoulder and back. I thought of the pictures the girls and I had been taking, and that made me feel warm and excited, and I thought of all they'd done with me and for me that afternoon and evening, like loving sisters. That was it, I realized; they were treating me like I was a dear sister. I _was_ a sister to them, a girl through and through, even though I might still have some guy thoughts rattling around in my brain. I looked nice. No, I looked better than nice. I was hot, and people were going to notice. With a smile and a far-off look in my eye, I climbed into bed, pulled the covers up, and turned off the light.

I sat on a log in the mountain meadow, feeling the breeze waft my loose hair about my shoulders. I felt ... alive, and free. The air smelled cleaner, the pine scent sweeter, and the chirping of the birds more melodious.

"Something has changed, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said as she sat down beside me.

"Oh?"

"You are beautiful because you accept that you are a girl," she said matter-of-factly.

"I ... I ..." I stammered, not knowing what to say. Finally, I looked at her, smiling. "I guess I have. How did you know?"

"It shows in your face. You are radiant as the sun. You are content and happy, and it makes you more beautiful than even I dreamed you would be."

"Have I been fighting this?"

Wakan Tanka smiled. "You tell me, Wihakayda. You know yourself better than I do."

"I ... when the girls and I were spending time together, I was enjoying being a girl with them. I liked feeling like I belonged and that I was pretty."

"It is an important first step. But be wary; you have many more challenges ahead of you, and much to learn about being a woman. However, haven taken this step, the challenges will be easier." She held my hand. "I know that you will succeed, Wihakayda. I have always known."

**********

Saturday, March 10, 2007

"Have you thought about what you want to do?" Farm Boy asked as we sat eating our breakfast. Debra wasn't a big part of the discussion, since she was shoveling in food by the tray-full.

"I ... I want to drive, to start school sooner. It's riskier, but it gets me in classes sooner rather than later, and I don't have to be a lab rat. I want to drive ... with Mom."

"You realize that I'll have to do all the driving," Mom cautioned. "You don't have a drivers' license that's valid for how you look now."

"Yeah."

"And that means we won't drive more than four to five hundred miles a day, which will make this a four-day trip - at least."

"I know. But if I take the HPARC flight and spend a week in their experiments, I'll start school later rather than sooner. Possibly a lot later if the scientists forget about everything but their experiments, like I've heard they sometimes do."

Farm Boy nodded. "Okay. I guess the safest way is for us to rent a car for a one-way trip, and you can reimburse us. Wish List, can you get on it?"

Wish List nodded and turned toward Mom. "How about if you come with me to get the rental application filled out, and then we can stop by the bank, since you'll probably want some cash for the trip. We'll get something non-descript, like a Camry or Corolla, too." She glanced at me and winked. "Sorry, sport. No hot-rod this time."

"We'll have to plan a route, and let any teams along the way know that you're coming, and why the MCO might be interested in you."

I felt that familiar stab of panic. "Can we trust them?"

Debra, who'd been standing beside me, hugged me around the waist. "When it's a mutant going to Whateley, even super-villains go out of their way to help them get there, unless they're something like a total psychopath, and even then, they'll sometimes turn a blind eye just to snub the MCO. They'll help."

Several hours later, we had a pretty solid plan, at least on paper. To guard against the unexpected, we had contacts at various places along the way. Mom had cash for expenses; we'd pay for everything in cash so we wouldn't leave a trail of records. On the first day, our goal was Chicago, where the Windy City Guardians would help us if needed. The second day, our goal was Cleveland, and the Lake Erie Sentinels. On the third day, we were shooting for Albany where the Albany Alliance would give us assistance if needed. That left the last day as a long but comfortable drive to Whateley. Hotels were reserved under pseudonyms; we were staying in inexpensive chains as to avoid calling attention.

Wish List and Mom returned with a bit of disappointing news; to rent a car for a one-way trip to New England, we'd have to wait until mid-morning on Sunday to pick up the car, and that was the soonest of the rental agencies she'd checked. That would make Chicago a stretch for Mom, but she agreed that she could handle it.

I was getting more and more anxious about getting to Whateley, and I was being a pest, running around the group and badgering everyone with a non-stop stream of questions about the school. It was all causing mixed emotions; some of what the League had told me sounded a little intimidating, and some things sounded positively wonderful. After lunch, I was almost physically carried to my room, because everyone wanted a break from my incessant questions. Tractor reminded me that I had a lesson in ancient Greek history, and that the afternoon would be a _very_ good time to read.

Sulking and muttering to myself, I took the hint, closing myself in my room and opening the history book. Though I grumbled a lot, in reality, the subject grabbed my attention. It was only the knock and the call of 'dinnertime' that broke my concentration. I glanced at the clock - holy cow! I'd been reading practically non-stop for almost five hours. A glass of long-since warm iced tea sat in a puddle of water on a nightstand by my bed, and I hadn't even been bothered by the call of nature.

I was surprised how I'd been getting into the history; it was easy for my imagination to create visual images of ancient Greece, and her kings, warriors, and city-states. Epic battles came alive in my mind with stunning realism, even better than watching a movie. I wondered, as I put down the book, if it was part of being an exemplar. Certainly, I read faster, and my memory was vastly improved. But visualization skills? Granted, I'd always had a vivid imagination, and I loved novels because they let my mind run wild, painting image after images based on the words on the printed page. Maybe my imagination and visualization skills were improved with my memory. I wondered how I'd test that. I put those thoughts were put on hold so I could go eat.

I expected to come into the cafeteria dining room and grab a tray, as was usual procedures. Instead, the table was set with candles and place-settings, with water goblets and a couple of nice floral arrangements. I choked up when I realized that they'd done this for me and Mom, as a send-off party. The corners of my eyes were moist as everyone stood and warmly welcomed me. Debra and Wish List ushered me to a central spot at the table, and then sat Mom on my left. Taking that as a clue, the rest of the super team, the doctors and technicians, and the interns all took seats at the two tables, with Debra to my right. I glanced at her and saw a demure smile before she quickly glanced away, and in that moment of eye contact, I saw a warmth and sparkle that was unmistakable.

"You didn't have to do this," I protested weakly, overwhelmed by the sentiment they were expressing, as if I were one of their own going off to Whateley, instead of someone who a few days was an unknown, frightened mutant seeking help and refuge.

"Yes, we did," Farm Boy said with conviction. "In just a few days, you've become a little sister to all of us." He glanced at Debra with a curious expression on his face before he continued. "And you proved you're one of us by standing with us when you helped take down a supervillain and save Cornflower."

I blushed at the compliment. I hadn't been seeking praise, acceptance, or favors when I'd healed Debra; I'd grown up believing you helped those in need without any thought of recompense, but because it was the right thing to do. "I just wanted to help," I said, making a lame excuse.

"You helped more than most people would dare dream of." Wish List got a far-away look in her eyes. "You know, Kayda, I'm kind of envious of you."

"Of me?" I was nearly floored by her statement. "Why?"

She smiled. "Because my four years at Whateley are the best memories of my life." She chuckled. "I'm not going to sugar-coat anything, though; at times, it'll be incredibly frustrating, and difficult, but if you have the right attitude, it can be the best time of your life."

Tractor grinned. "It was very ... unique, and a lot of fun. I particularly remember there was this one incredibly beautiful brunette girl that caught my eye, but she didn't even know I was alive. I suppose I got a little foolish trying to attract her attention."

From down the table, Vanity Girl snorted derisively. "That's an understatement."

I looked her way. "I take it you know of his ... misadventures?" From the way she'd spoken, I expected that there was some story.

Vanity Girl smiled a bit. "I should. I was the one that caught his eye."

"Oh?" I was surprised, but everyone at the table was laughing at the old tale. "How did he persuade you to join the team here?"

Vanity Girl blushed a bit. "The goofball ... proposed."

Suddenly, things clicked into place. Tractor's apartment was a little larger, and I'd noticed that it was decorated with a little less masculine decor than I would have thought. In hindsight, it should have been obvious. "Oh." I said slowly, a smile creeping across my face. "So you accepted? Are you from the area?"

She roared with laughter. "Yeah, I accepted. By then, I'd grown a little fond of the big lummox. But moving here? That was almost a deal-breaker. I'm from southern Florida, and the thought of all the ice and snow and a five-month winter terrified me even more than having to spar against Stony."

I heard Debra gasp aloud. "They were still talking about him when I was there! Everyone said that he was one tough mother. "

Tractor laughed. "Tough is an understatement, and I had to spar with him more often than you, since he was in my class!" He turned to me to explain. "He's a PK brick, with inherent shielding against psi attacks, most magic attacks are useless against his body, and he's got a shell of stone, like a living rock."

Vanity Girl thought a moment. "Wasn't Stony in Twain?"

Tractor nodded. "Yeah. He was a Thornie his freshman year. After he got his powers and anger under control, he moved to Twain. I heard he went the supervillain route after he graduated, because he never quite got his temper totally under control and couldn't keep a regular job." He glanced up. "Our dinner is here." He allowed one of the staff to put a plate of food in front of him.

As we ate, the conversation focused on Whateley and the group's days there so much that it seemed like a class reunion. Some of the stories were, frankly, almost unbelievable to the point that I wondered if they weren't collectively pulling my leg.

After a marvelous steak dinner with an amazing raspberry cheesecake dessert, we adjourned to the common area, where the conversation about Whateley continued. Every so often, the tales were interrupted by a few tips that were usually preceded by, "you'll want to remember to ...."

It was late when we finished talking. Dinner and conversation had been wonderful, and I felt content as Mom tucked me into bed. She didn't say anything about the negligee I was wearing, but I could tell she was pleased that I seemed to be more accepting of being a girl. As she left, she stopped in the doorway. "By the way," she said, "those pictures are fantastic, even if they're a little bit ... .risque."

It felt like my jaw dropped into my lap; the girls had _promised_ not to tell Mom about that. On second thought, it dawned on me that they hadn't really promised, so much as let me believe they had.

"I've got copies to remember my little girl," she added with a smile. "But I don't think I'll show most of them to your dad. Not unless you want him watching over your shoulder with a shotgun. Did they give you copies?"

I nodded. "They're on a memory stick in my purse."

"Good. I could tell you had fun with that. The pictures will be nice reminders of your friends here." Mom turned out the light and closed the door, leaving me wondering just how she'd convinced the girls to give her copies. Leave it to a mom to discover things you wanted to keep secret.

A moment later, the door opened slowly, and a figure slipped in; from the outline, I figured it was either Debra or Wish List. "Are you asleep yet?" she whispered, and the voice confirmed that it was Debra.

"No," I whispered back. "I just got to bed."

Debra softly closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of my bed. "I want to ask ... if ...." I could tell that she was looking down, away from me. I could hear the embarrassment in her voice. "If you'd, you know ...."

"Will I dream-walk with you again tonight?" I asked with a smile, already knowing the answer.

If I'd have been able to see in the dark, I would have bet that she was blushing. "Yeah."

I sat up and put my arms around her neck, pulling her into a kiss that quite startled her. "I'll meet you in our dreams," I said, trying to sound sultry. She kissed me back, somewhat reluctantly; I suspected that she was still a little uneasy because of our age difference.

After I let go of her, she padded softly to the door. "I'll meet you in a few minutes in our dreams.

**********

Sunday, March 11, 2007>

After breakfast, Farm Boy and Debra asked Mom and I to join them in a small room. As soon as the door was shut, Farm Boy sat down and got right to the point. "We'd like to ask a favor of you, Mrs. Franks, and Kayda," he began.

"Call me June," Mom reminded him.

"Okay, June. Let me be blunt. We operate on a shoestring budget, so ...."

Mom's eyes widened, and then she smiled. "Seeing how you're helping Kayda, we can give you a small donation, in addition to the direct expenses you've incurred on our behalf. Is ten thousand enough?"

My eyes were as wide as those of Farm Boy and Debra. "Ten ... thousand?" they stammered.

Mom saw me staring at her. "Kayda, dear, do you know how much our farmland _alone_ is worth?" She didn't give me a chance to answer. "Between thirty and thirty-five million, give or take a few million. That's not counting our trucking business or the dealership, or the livestock. Or our other investments." She smiled. "Ten thousand isn't much for all the help you've given Kayda and me."

It took a few minutes for Farm Boy to get his jaw off the floor and working again. "Uh, that's very generous, but that's not what we had in mind."

Debra picked up the conversation. "We'd like to use some of Kayda's photos in posters and calendars to help fund our operation. Our publicist thinks that there's at least a few hundred thousand in profit."

It was Mom's turn to be amazed. "A few _hundred_ thousand?" She turned to me. "What do you think, honey?"

I looked at her for a clue, but she was too busy being shocked at Debra's words to give me even the faintest hint of what she thought. I glanced at Farm Boy, but he, too gave me no hint. Then I made the mistake of looking at Debra. Her soft, lovely eyes were almost hypnotic, and pleading with in a sensuous and seductive way. I swallowed, knowing I couldn't say no to her. "I guess. If they're not too ... revealing or racy."

Mom nodded. "Good point. After all, she's a minor. I guess that's why you want to talk to me, as her parent."

Farm Boy and Debra simply nodded.

Mom glanced once more at me, and then turned to the supers. "If it's okay with Kayda, then I don't have any objections, subject to a few constraints."

"And those are?" Debra asked cautiously.

"Nothing racy or nude. Her father, Kayda, or I get to veto the use of any individual picture - just in case your view of racy doesn't exactly match ours," she added with a wink aimed at Debra.

"That's fair."

"I think it would be safest for Kayda if she wasn't publicly associated with the League, or outed as a mutant. And I'd like ten percent of the proceeds to go to a trust fund for her schooling."

Debra nodded. "As much as we'd like to use the pictures of the group of us, we know only too well how much risk it would be for her to be associated with us. We have a dummy corporation that we can use to 'sell' the material, so there won't be any ties to us." She grinned. "Maybe when she comes home for Christmas or Spring Break, we can take more pics with proper masks and a costume for her and tie it a little more directly to the League."

"Are you sure about ten percent? That's a lot less than most models demand," Farm Boy said, careful not to give Mom the idea of demanding more, but also not wanting us to feel cheated.

Mom chuckled. "Like I told you, we're not hurting financially. Since they're Kayda's pictures, though, I want her to get at least a token profit from them for her future. The rest? Consider it a charitable donation to your continued operations."

"That's more than generous," Debra said, awestruck at the meager terms Mom laid out. "Would you like to set it up so the profits are recorded on your income, with a charitable contribution to our non-profit corporation?"

"No need for that. Frankly, I think it would mess up our taxes, and they're already complicated enough." Mom wrinkled her nose. "I'll let you work those details with her father. Let's get him on the phone to do the introductions and let him know the basic idea, and then you can finish working the particulars with him while we're on the road. No sense delaying getting the ball rolling, since I assume you've already made some inquiries about printing and distribution. And those pictures I would be good demo glamour shots for that modeling group," she added with a smile. "Are you going to try out for it?"

"I ... I'm thinking about it." Nothing like being put on the spot by your mother in front of your friends! I noticed that Debra had a knowing smile on her face. I wondered - had she and Mom set me up?

"If you do, I know you'll do well modeling." Her tone made it clear that she really hoped I'd try to join. I was stuck wondering just how she'd convinced the girls to give her copies. Leave it to a mom to discover things you wanted to keep secret.

Farm Boy and Mom went to her room for a phone call, while I went to the kitchen hoping to find a snack.

I didn't pay attention that Debra was following me until she wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. "Whatcha doin'?" she asked sweetly, her lips tantalizingly close to my ear as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Trying to find some leftover cheesecake from last night, assuming you didn't eat it all."

Cornflower released her hold, laughing as she leaned back against a counter. "I'm an energizer; I need a lot of food."

"So you _did_ eat all the cheesecake," I said with mock indignation. I could practically feel Debra smiling behind me as I continued to scan the inside of the refrigerator.

"All this talk about Whateley is bringing back fond memories - and a few not-so-fond ones." I turned, a little surprised, and saw her glancing around. "I probably shouldn't tell you this," she said very quietly, "and I don't know why I am, but at the end of each term, there will be things called Combat Finals. It's a test to grade how well you've learned to defend yourself against the real world. You'll have to take a class in martial arts or survival, and this is a large part of your grade in those classes. It can get kind of ... rough. I want you to be ready because I don't want you to get hurt. Please don't tell anyone else, though, and don't let on that you know."

I snorted. "I've never been that much of a fighter. I could have used that a few days ago when my friends were trying to kill me."

"Former friends," Debra corrected me.

"Yeah." I took a deep breath. "Debra, I ... I want to tell you how much it means to me to have a friend like you."

I expected a look of surprise, or a blush, or something visual for a reaction. Instead, she leaned forward, pulled me closer, and kissed me, slowly and intimately. After a few moments, she eased back from the embrace and smiled at me. "Please don't forget me, because I won't forget you."

Alarm bells were ringing; Debra's kiss confirmed that she was interested in me, and in a ''more than just friends' way, as if there was any remaining doubt. I tried to smile. "Since I've dream-walked with you several times and during healings, Wakan Tanka told me that I should be able to dream-walk with you any time because our spirits have touched. Even if I'm at Whateley, I hope I'll be able to visit you in the dream-world."

"Will you ... dream-walk with me tonight?" she asked hesitantly, biting her lower lip in a very sexy way. "So I don't miss you so much?"

"If you want. I can show you my spirits, and where my dreams dwell. If you like the outdoors, you'll love it."

"That would be nice." We heard someone stirring, so we dropped our arms and Debra took a half-step back.

"Ahem," Mom cleared her throat to let us know, in her own way, that she'd seen more than the innocent 'two girls talking' scene before her. How long had she been watching?

"We were just talking about Whateley. Cornf ... Debra was telling me about the school."

Mom had an amused look on her face. "It seems that the sooner we get you out of here, the better chance you'll have of resisting temptation." Both Debra and I blushed. "On the other hand, it's understandable, because Mr. Lodgeman told me that during the healing, you two were together in the dream world - in a psychologically intimate way."

"Mom!" I protested sharply, but in a low volume. She was embarrassing the hell out of me.

Debra put her arm around my shoulder, pulling me close beside her. "You're right. It was very ... personal. Kayda and I shared something very special in the dream world. Because of the dream-walking, we got to be very good friends. Here, though, there are certain ... realities that preclude anything more."

"Besides a little making out in the kitchen?" Mom asked with a leering grin.

"Mrs. Franks,"

"June, please," Mom insisted.

"June, You know that I'm a lesbian. I really find Kayda attractive. I don't know if anything could work out with us, because she might be just as confused about her sexuality as I was when I was her age. She's very beautiful, and when she's eighteen, if she _is_ interested, I'd be a fool to turn down her companionship." She shook her head sadly. "But that's too far down the road to think of committing to, for both of us."

Mom grinned. "Is that why you have that three-by-five foot poster of her in a sexy, cheesecake pose with her white buffalo hanging in your room?"

Debra started to sputter words of denial, but then she stopped, realizing it was useless. She lowered her gaze, sighing as she shook her head. "I admit that I find Kayda very sexy," she admitted. "And I find her intelligence and wit very attractive. But it's platonic - nothing more than a few kisses. Like this." She leaned over and kissed my cheek tenderly as she hugged me.

I don't know if it was just to tease Mom, but I nibbled playfully on Debra's ear. "You know the other day when you said you wished I was eighteen?" I heard her gasp at the realization that I _had_ heard her soft comment. "Right now, so do I. But I'm not, so the best we can do is meet in the dream-world." I whispered back. Debra broke our embrace and walked out of the kitchen past Mom with as much dignity as she could.

Mom walked over beside me. "Be careful, honey," she said as she gave me a hug. "I know you're probably confused because you aren't used to having girl parts and girl hormones, but there are still a lot of boy thoughts in your head. I'm sure that mix is very confusing. And for a girl, a 'first love' can be a very emotionally trying thing."

"That's an understatement," I replied. I knew beyond a doubt that if I was still Brandon, I would have _loved_ to have someone like Debra coming on to me. And I would have been excited to be pursuing a girl as beautiful and friendly as Debra. I wasn't sure which role I fit in anymore. Was I the girl, to be pursued? Or was I the 'alpha', doing the pursuing? If it was a lesbian relationship, how did that work? How did I _want_ it to work, now that I was a girl? Add to that the fact that I was still very uncomfortable knowing that I had girl parts and could play the female role in ... coupling ... and my confusion was understandable. And there was that strange, terrifying feeling I sometimes got when I was around boys, or even thinking about them.

**********

Just west of Sioux Falls

The serpent creature rested for the day in its temporary lair, hiding from the sun but still awake. Since it had been called from its forced slumber by the father demon, it didn't need to rest, but only protect itself from the sunlight. It sensed its prey, only a few miles away. She was close, and the attack wouldn't fail. That night, the father's enemy would fall, and in a strike so quick and devastating that no-one would be able to help defend the girl carrying the spirits. Severed from the physical world, the spirits would be vulnerable to an attack by the serpent-creature's dream-world ambush. They, too, would fall, just as the creature's father had ordered.

**********

Sioux Falls League Headquarters

As we loaded our luggage into the car, I was nervous about going to Whateley. Everyone had gotten me gifts, which embarrassed me. Tractor gave me the six-volume set of his cherished books of ancient Greek history, and I cried when I saw them. I gave him a big hug and a bigger kiss on his cheek. Vanity Girl, his wife, didn't seem the least bit jealous.

Debra was very subdued when it was her turn for good-byes. "I'm going to miss you," she said, her voice choking a little as she took my hands in hers.

"And I'm going to miss you," I answered in an equally heartfelt way. "I appreciate everything you taught me about girl stuff." I wasn't about to say, in front of everyone, how Debra and I had cuddled and made out while we were dream-walking the night before.

Debra blushed. "It's the least I can do for you, after ...."

"Just don't let yourself get hurt again, please," I said, my voice cracking as my eyes misted. "It's a very long house call from Whateley." Gak - was I ... falling in love with her?

She lifted her hands to hug me, to which I didn't object. As we embraced, I could feel her teardrops on my shoulder. We hugged for far longer than was appropriate.

"Hey, you two! Kayda's got to get on the road! Daylight is burning," Tractor joked.

I didn't feel like laughing. Hugging Debra made me feel very warm and safe and loved, and with a load of unfamiliar female hormones running around in me, it felt surprisingly comforting and a touch erotic.

Debra eased herself back so we were face-to-face, even though my arms were still around her and hers around me. "I suppose you need to get going."

"Yeah," I said softly.

"Promise you'll keep in touch?" She kissed me on the cheek.

I thought 'what the hell?' I pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her directly on her luscious lips, a brief but passionate kiss that was a bit overboard for two friends saying goodbye. I didn't care. From the way she responded, neither did she.

As we separated from our tender and loving kiss, Debra rested her forehead on mine so she could speak to me, her mouth and lips tantalizingly close to mine. "Be careful," she mouthed silently, "and please don't forget me.

"I won't. I'll call when I can." I saw a tear run down her cheek, while at the same time, my words had put a sparkle in her eyes. "Promise me you won't get hurt again."

"I promise," she said softly.

I was suddenly aware that we were the center of a lot of attention, since the whole gang was there to wish us good luck. I let my hands slowly slide down along her back, to her beautiful waistline, down over her gorgeously-proportioned hips, and then free of her, all the while staring lovingly into her eyes.

She broke eye contact first. "I ... I got something for you," she said. She turned, and picked up a long tube and a box, both gift-wrapped. "I hope you'll remember me when you ...."

"I'll always remember you, and I'll call so you know I haven't forgotten." I started to open the box, but Debra blushed and stopped me.

"Not here," she whispered.

I stopped, and looked at her again, noticing a twinkle of mischief in her eyes and a grin that told me that the gift was something unforgettable. I suspected it was something a bit naughty.

After a few more goodbyes, Mom and I got in the car, where the gang had already put our bags, snacks for the road, and the gifts. I noticed her glancing my way, concern showing in her expression. We drove to Interstate 90 Eastbound, heading toward Minnesota and eventually Chicago. We were on our way, finally, and I felt exhilarated at the thought of getting to Whateley, but at the same time, I was nervous about what we might face, and I felt heaviness in my heart as Debra grew more distant from me with every passing mile.

I was very confused about Debra; I really, really liked her, and found her to be stunningly beautiful. Despite both of our caution, I realized that I'd fallen for her, but how hard? Did I love her, or was it strong physical attraction coupled with gratitude for helping me through a bit of depression and being so helpful at learning to be a girl? Was it my first 'crush' as a girl? Or was our mutual attraction something that came from our dream walking? Should I have told her that I was falling in love with her? How much was she going to cry over me? I sighed softly to myself; I was confused, but I was more worried about how she was going to react than I was about my own feelings. At the same time, I knew, without doubt, that I was going to cry over missing her.

"You okay?" Mom asked as we crossed the border into Minnesota.

"Mmm, hmm," I muttered, still lost in thought.

"Are you falling in love with Debra?" Mom got right to the heart of the matter.

"I don't know," I said softly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Are you going to let me _not_ talk about it?" I asked, half-smiling as I tried to joke a bit. The whole thing was confusing, and I knew that I could easily be overwhelmed emotionally if I let myself. I knew how Mom operated, and we were going to be together in a car for over twenty-seven hours, plus sharing a hotel room for at least three nights.

"No," Mom answered with a grin. "Did you two ...?"

"No," I answered quickly and firmly.

Mom smiled. "How did you two start falling for each other?"

I sighed. There was no way Mom was going to let me bullshit my way past this one. "I had to dream-walk with her to help her focus her energies to heal. Wakan Tanka told me that I needed to help her focus her healing energies. I ... had to ... comfort her."

"I know you dream-walked with her. What does that mean? And what do you mean, 'comfort her'?"

"I don't know." I closed my eyes and thought for a moment, discovering that it was getting easier and easier to enter 'dream space' with Wakan Tanka.

She walked beside me through the forest. "Your mother asks good questions."

"What happens when I dream-walk with someone?" I cut right to the chase.

"Dream-walking is sharing the innermost part of your being with another in a personal way. You are in the dream world, and any thoughts are amplified. A bad thought could become a bear mauling you or the other one. Hatred could be expressed in the dream world through harming the other."

"Harming?"

Wakan Tanka nodded. "A very skilled dream-walker can kill a person through their dreams." I shuddered at that thought.

She continued. "Dream-walkers rarely walk with one person several times. It can cause a type of ... intimacy with the other person. Feelings of ... attraction ... are strengthened."

"Which means ...?" I was getting nervous about what she might be implying.

"You were... close with her in her dreams, repeatedly and for extended times. At the very least, you will forever be great friends because your souls are linked in a way. You will have to wait and see."

"Great," I grumbled unhappily. "Just great. I've done a fucking Vulcan mind-meld and bonded with her."

Mom was looking at me oddly when I opened my eyes. "I was discussing it with Wakan Tanka," I explained quickly. "She said that when I dream-walked with Debra, we were kind of ... close." I hesitated, but Mom was going to find the truth sooner or later. "It wasn't just that once, either. She invited me to dream-walk with her several times."

"And?" Mom sounded nervous.

I looked down, blushing. "We held hands and walked. I showed her around Paha Sapa, er, the Black Hills. We had a couple of picnics, and we sat around the fire talking with Wakan Tanka about Lakota legends and history and stuff. We talked about things - where she grew up, her family, our farm, my family. You know - stuff. We kissed some, and we ... cuddled. A little bit." I looked up her quickly. "But that's all!" I added defensively. "We didn't do anything else!"

Mom smiled at me with a knowing, motherly look. "Honey, you may not believe it, but I remember what it's like to be a teenager. You're maturing, and your hormones are a soup of confusion and emotion, especially since you changed gender. And Debra _is_ an extremely attractive, warm, wonderful person. If you ... you know ... in your dreams, that's not saying you're bad, or that she is."

I looked down, afraid to speak for fear of what would come out of my mouth. I was really afraid of what Mom would think of me if I _was_ a lesbian.

"And I'm not so old-fashioned that I'd condemn you if you were curious ... like that. I know that you _were_ a boy for over fifteen years. Old habits and all that. Nor would I condemn you if you _were_ attracted to girls." She let those words sink in, which she somehow knew was important. "Were you two intimate in your dreams?"

I nodded as I blushed. "No, but ...." I didn't know how to answer. We had been close, and we'd hugged and cuddled and touched each other's breasts, and ... I had really wanted to do more.

Mom patted my hand. "In that sense, it's no different than the dreams nearly every teenager has at your age. Just ... be careful that your dreams don't become a reality, because you _are_ a teenage girl right now."

I wanted to hug Mom for being so understanding. As it was, tears were trickling from the corners of my eyes. "Thanks."

Mom turned on the radio, but I didn't like what she had on, so I zoned and thought of the dream-walking I'd done with Debra almost every night, at her invitation. I was learning, on my own through trial and error, how to replay the dreams, like a videotaped scene that I could watch over and over. Some of the dreams were like being on a date with her - walking in the beauty of the land, sitting by a lake, holding hands, making out, and some were just talking about things by the fire, with Wakan Tanka and Tatanka with us. In those dreams, I had to interpret for Debra, because she didn't speak Lakota, and that was the only thing that Wakan Tanka spoke. It was fun to talk about the People, and Debra was more and more intrigued by all the tales Wakan Tanka and Tatanka told us. I had the advantage, though, of being able to experience that dream any time I wanted.

"Something is puzzling you, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said as she sat on the prairie.

"Can I relive the dream-walks as often as I want?"

Wakan Tanka seemed a bit surprised. "Some never learn to learn how to relive the dream-walks. You are very powerful and skilled to do so already."

"But can I share that with ... the other person?"

Wakan Tanka frowned. "Some shamans can experience a dream walk over and over, as you have done, but I have never heard of someone who is not a shaman being able to repeat a dream walk."

"It's too bad that Debra can't relive dreams the way I can," I observed sadly.

"You can try to help her relieve a dream, if you desire it," Wakan Tanka said, stirring hope. "Dream walk with her, and while you are in the dream world, relive the dream that _you_ want her to experience again."

I was going to have to talk to Debra about trying that sometime in the future. I had really enjoyed dream-walking with her, and I suspected that she felt the same.

In a way, it was good that we were on the road, because it took away the temptation of making the dream-walks into reality. I slipped into the dream-world almost without thinking. It had felt so wonderful to lie with her in the furry buffalo blankets, cuddled together, being close with her in our dream. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous and frightening, though, because I'd been severely tempted more than once to wake up and join her in her bed, cuddling for real instead of just in the dream-world, and she might have been tempted as well.

Since Mom was driving, she had me call home. The supers had gotten us several disposable cell phones that we could switch among so no-one could trace calls to us and there wouldn't be a pattern of calls. We'd also worked out a code, and the supers and we had communicated our travel plans- and as many alternate plans as we could think of - to Dad as securely as we could. Our methods probably wouldn't have stopped the NSA, or the MCO through their agents inside the NSA, but it was the best we could do with the resources at hand. When it rang at home, I switched on the speaker so Mom could hear, too.

"Hello?" Danny asked hesitantly.

"Danny, it's me, your big ... sister. and Mom. We wanted to let you and Dad know that we're okay, and that we're on the road to the school," I reported.

"Cool."

"Is Dad there? Mom wants to talk to him."

"Uh, yeah, Aunt Ida is getting him some lunch." His voice became muffled. "Dad, it's Mom and Brandon," I heard shouted in the background.

"Her name is Kayda," I heard Dad answer. In a second, he was on the phone. "Hi, honey. How are you doing?"

"At least I'm not cooped up in the supers' headquarters now. We just left Sioux Falls about half an hour ago."

"Isn't that a late start? How far are you intending to drive today?"

"We couldn't pick up our car until late this morning. Mom has to do all the driving, because I don't have a license that works for me anymore. We're working on our primary plan. You _did_ get the encrypted e-mails, didn't you?"

Dad chuckled. "Yeah, I had to have Danny figure out how to open it. They forgot that I'm just a simple farmer."

"You're not fooling me, dear," Mom chided him. "You probably had to help Danny open his e-mail!"

"Not quite. That's a pretty long drive today, isn't it?" He was asking us to not be too ambitious, but without directly saying so.

"We figured about nine hours of driving time, and a couple of hours of breaks, so yeah, it'd be a long drive. Mom and I are already talking about alternate plan A."

Mom butted in. "You'll see a pretty big check showing up in the bank statement, that I wrote to help cover what they did for us. And they're going to be working with you for the pictures."

"Yeah, I'm waiting for them to call me to talk some more. Speaking of which, I think we all need to talk about the pictures." Dad had switched to 'stern father' mode.

Mom laughed. "There's no nudity. And the group agreed that we have veto over any pictures we think are inappropriate."

"Alright, there's no nudity. Kayda, would you care to explain _why_ you thought you could get away with some of the pictures you posed for?"

I grimaced at Mom, who just smiled at my discomfort. She wasn't going to help me out here. "Okay, so some are in my lingerie, with another girl. But they're all decent!"

Mom picked that moment to jump in to help me out a little. "I thought the best one is Kayda and the other girl, Cornflower, playing chess on a bearskin rug, wearing only their panties."

"What?" Dad roared. "I saw that. It's ... indecent!'

"It's not any racier than what you see in family magazines," I said defensively. "Our arms were blocking anything naughty, and we had Tatanka sitting beside us, in his smaller form."

"Tatanka? Is that what you call that buffalo? Where the heck did you find white buffaloes of all those different sizes to pose with you gals?"

"Kayda can manifest him in just about any size. It's one of her powers. He's really adorable!" Mom said to help me - a bit. "I've got copies."

"Yeah, Farm Boy and Cornflower e-mailed them right after you left. That's why we need to talk," Dad replied. "I only looked at them briefly - enough to know that I'm not sure our little girl should be posing like that!" Protective Dad was still there, and it hadn't taken him long to get protective of his daughter!

"Take some time to look at the pictures of Kayda with Cornflower later, after your 'protective dad' instincts wear off. The pictures are really very good. Just keep them away from Danny," Mom said with a smile.

"Why?"

Mom couldn't help laughing. "Kayda's really cute, but I'm more worried about Danny getting a crush on Cornflower. She's adorable."

"My first impression is that she's pretty good looking," Dad commented.

"Kayda thinks so," Mom said, grinning, while I glowered at her teasing.

Mom and Dad went into parent and household talk mode, discussing how things were going at the farm and at the business. As Dad had predicted, things in town had settled down after a few days. While there was still some talk about 'that horrible mutant', no-one was holding it against Dad. The entire town seemed glad to have gotten rid of the menace - except Julie. She stopped by the dealership several times to ask how I was doing. Bless her heart. I was going to keep in touch with her when I could, and when it was safe for her.

"We're going to stop for a bite to eat for lunch, and we'll let you know if we'll be on the primary plan or if we switch to alternate A for our stop tonight."

"Okay. Drive carefully."

"We will. You know, as I think more about the pictures, you should show the picture of Cornflower and Kayda playing chess to Danny. Then tell him that Cornflower is Kayda's girlfriend. Gotta run. Bye." She hung up, grinning at me, while I sat, red-faced at her comment.

"That wasn't fair," I pouted at Mom's last comments.

Mom gave me a quick smile before turning her attention back to the road. "Tell me which part wasn't true."

I started to deny what she'd said, but I had to catch myself. Was Mom more observant than I'd always believed parents could be? Was I really to the point that I thought of Debra the same way as I used to think of Julie, as a romantic interest? Or was Mom just teasing me?

Mom patted my hand gently. "I wasn't trying to be harsh, but every mother needs something to tease her daughter about." She shot me another quick smile. "Besides, you're only fifteen. I'm very worried that you're going to get hurt." She turned her attention back to the radio and left me alone to think about what she'd said.

I decided to talk to my own consultants.

I sat in the meadow alone, feeling the breeze through my loose hair and smelling the pine trees. All around, wild flowers bloomed, and a few butterflies flitted about, adding their multicolored touches to the already-colorful scene. The sky overhead was clear blue, and the sun shone down with comforting warmth, not the unbearable heat of late summer. In the distance, I could hear the gentle rustling of water as it raced down a mountain stream, splashing noisily against rocks and gurgling like children at play in a pond.

I turned suddenly, having felt and heard something. It wasn't tangible, but there was something there. I smiled when I recognized the smell and sound, then turned back toward the stream, smiling. I waited, and just before he got in range, without looking, I said, "You can't startle me today, Tatanka."

I heard a snort of frustration. "You learn too quickly, Wihakayda," he said as he ambled up beside me and lay down.

"Maybe he can't, but I still can," Wakan Tanka's voice called over my other shoulder from very near. I jumped, startled, and she laughed as she sat beside me.

"Would you rather talk with us about the girl you call Cornflower, or do you want time alone to think about her and your relationship?" Wakan Tanka asked.

I looked at her, scowling. "You're rather blunt today, aren't you?"

She simply smiled at me. "Sometimes, it is best to get right to the heart of the matter. What is it that you want?"

I sighed. "I don't know."

Tatanka snorted. "But you _do_ know, Wihakayda. You are confused about your feelings toward her, and you are worried that you might hurt her."

I stared at him for a moment, and then turned my gaze back to the flower-dotted meadow. "Yeah," I mumbled. "I dont know _how_ I feel about her."

"I think you _do_ know, Wihakayda," Tatanka said, "but you are afraid of the answer."

"Do I love her?" I asked, desperate for an answer. "Do I really love her?"

"That answer must come from your heart, not from us," Wakan Tanka said.

"I think ... that she loves me," I said softly.

"And how you do you feel about her?" Wakan Tanka asked. "Are you really in love with her? Or, in your confusion and pain, did you become attracted to her because she's a safe, caring, very good friend?"

That question threw me for a loop. How _did_ I really feel about Debra.

"Is she attracted to you because you saved her life? Often, a woman might think she loves a shaman who has saved her, but it is out of gratitude rather than love. Could this be true with Cornflower?"

I sat, stunned by the question she'd asked.

"Mom?"

"What is it sweetie?"

"Do you think that maybe Cornflower kind of feels like she owes me something for saving her life, and maybe she doesn't really love me?"

"Next time you two talk, you need to discuss it. Before you start making living arrangements and picking out silver and china patterns, you know."

"Mom!" She just smiled. I had the feeling that the teasing wasn't going to stop for a _long_ time.

**********

Near Sioux Falls

The serpent creature shrieked in frustration as it felt its target moving rapidly away. It had been so close; perhaps if it had forgone feeding once or twice, it could have struck the night before, but now the creature had another journey ahead of it to find the girl and her spirits. It vowed to minimize its hunting and resting, and to be more diligent with its shelters so it wasn't wasting time digging a new burrow each night. Surely there were places that would shield it, especially with these strange, rock-hard paths that cut through the land. The creature had briefly noted them, but had paid little attention to either the strange smooth stone paths or to the foul-smelling metal objects which sped on the paths. Perhaps, though, some of the small tunnels it had noticed beneath the stone paths would be useful to hide to minimize the time spent burrowing so it could travel longer and further each night.

The serpent-creature would not fail. The father-demon was patient; it must be as well. It knew that it had to plan more and to be less impulsive. After a few days, its hunger, which had built to enormous proportions during its forced hibernation, was manageable, and the hunts would be planned rather than rash acts. The serpent creature was quickly relearning all that it had forgotten during its many, long decades of sleep. And there was something else; it sensed not only its target, but one linked to her in the dream-world. The creature knew exactly what to do.

**********

After we finished our lunch, I felt a little sleepy. I leaned my seat back and closed my eyes to rest a few moments.

Walking through Paha Sapa with Tatanka was still a little intimidating. The forests of the Black Hills could be quite dense in spots, and I knew there was a lot of wildlife. I couldn't help but be nervous, because I felt vulnerable to animals such as bears, wolves, and mountain lions. "We are here to learn about the animal spirits, Wihikayda," Tatanka reassured me. "I will not let you come to harm."

On an impulse, I threw my arms around Tatanka's neck and gave him a big hug. "Thanks."

Tatanka seemed unhappy that I'd hugged him.

"I thought you liked it when I hug you," I added upon noticing his consternation.

"It's not so bad, in other places," he said curtly.

I laughed. "You're afraid that the other animal spirits will see that you're just a cuddly teddy-bear!" If he could blush, I knew he'd be doing it at that moment. "Okay, I'll knock off the huggy stuff - for now. But I won't promise not to hug you when I feel like it!"

We walked to a mountain stream through a meadow, and we sat by the trees, watching. Tatanka explained that I should feel the spirit of the water in how the water flowed, and the spirit of the air in the winds. The spirit of the ground was all around me if I only felt for it. And if I knew how to feel the spirits, I would learn to use them as well.

When I asked how I could use the spirits, Tatanka explained that I could create a wind to confuse a foe, or a fog to hide myself. The ways to use the spirits of the earth were many and varied. In a stream, I felt the water flowing around a fish as it fought the currents, and in the air, I felt the air effortlessly carrying wabli, the eagle, as it used the winds. Even more astounding, it felt like the air and water currents were coming together, suggesting to me that the eagle was about ready to swoop down on the trout. I watched, amazed when that was what actually happened.

Tatanka then explained that wabli was a powerful spirit of strength and power, healing and spirituality, and he felt and used the spirit of the sky. I would need to learn to do that as well. When I heard a noise in the forest, Tatanka told me that it was mato, the bear spirit, who was strong and very deliberate about his actions, not at all impulsive. We saw the fox, sugila, who was sly and cunning, and wiciteglega, the raccoon, who was the most curious of the animal spirits. Tatanka told me that each spirit had something to teach me, like patience or stealth or power. I needed to learn the traits of these and many more animals so I would know all of them and how to apply them to my life, and then I would need to practice using each of the traits.

Before I could ask more questions, Wakan Tanka joined us. "It is time that Wihakayda learns some of my gifts, my talkative friend," she said to Tatanka with a smile. Tatanka snorted in disagreement, but didn't say anything as I walked with her back to the tepee village and the fire circle; and as we neared the circle, the skies became dark as night descended on us.

As we sat, I couldn't help asking, "I'm ... afraid of the magic," I admitted. "I slept for many hours after I healed Debra."

Wakan Tanka nodded. "I helped you do a spell that you weren't prepared for, so it was very hard for you. We will start with simpler healing spells that shouldn't be as tiring. As you learn and gain magical strength, the spells will not be as tiring."

"Okay."

We went through the components and chants of the four healing spells; compared to the major spell I'd done for Debra, the first two were very simple. They also wouldn't have saved her life. I understood why Wakan Tanka pushed me with the third spell in the store, and the fourth one at the headquarters. I practiced repeatedly until Wakan Tanka was satisfied that I could do the two simple healing spells quickly and without her assistance.

"If you're within me," I asked, having had a flash of insight, "why don't you just use the magic?"

Wakan Tanka smiled at me. "The spirit of Ptesanwi is in you and a part of you. I am not. I speak to you through Ptesanwi's spirit. I am your teacher, not your spirit. Ptesanwi and you are the source of the magic you use, not I. You must learn what I teach you so that you may use the magic in the real-world and in the dream-world. I have had to use magic for you twice, and at a cost you cannot imagine. You must learn to do for yourself rather than to rely on me."

At one rest stop, I was waiting outside of the ladies' restroom for Mom when I realized that three teenage boys were staring at me. I felt nervous and my mouth got that uncomfortable cottony dry feeling, so I got a drink from the water fountain between the men's and ladies' rooms. In hindsight, that was a bad move, because when I bent over to drink, I inadvertently highlighted my curvy bottom in my tight jeans. The leering stares became cat-calls and whistles. When I straightened up, I saw that the boys were edging my way, their gazes intently fixed on me. My nervousness became full-fledged panic, and I backed away, inadvertently backing against the ladies' room door. In my dread, I was about to manifest Tatanka when a hand clasped my shoulder. I spun, my eyes wide with fright; Mom stood beside me, a concerned expression on her face.

"Time to go, Kayda," she said as she glared at the boys with 'the look'. I took her hand and she led me past the boys, who were intimidated by Mom's demeanor, but not enough to stop staring at me. I couldn't help turning once to make sure they weren't following us, and I saw more of their lust-filled gazes upon me. I got in the car without saying a word, and it wasn't until Mom was driving back onto the highway that I started shaking badly.

"Are you okay?" Mom asked, very concerned with my reaction to the rude boys.

Instead of answering, I pulled my knees up against my chest and clutched them with my arms. "I ... didn't know ... what to do!" I said softly.

Mom put her hand on my arm. "It'll be okay, honey," she said soothingly.

"I ... was afraid," I cried. "I was afraid of what they might do to me!"

"Kayda," Mom said calmly, "they wouldn't have tried anything. Those types of idiots try to prove their manhood by pretending they're all macho and stuff in front of girls in the vain hope that some girl will actually be impressed by that nonsense."

"I didn't know what to do, though. Any of the girls I know ... knew ... would have been able to deal with those kinds of guys, but I was so scared I couldn't think of anything. I couldn't do anything."

"We'll talk about that. We have three and a half days ahead of us for mother-daughter talks, so we can focus on that first."

I nodded, hoping that she was right, and that she could teach me about handling situations like that, things that most girls learned practically from birth. As Mom drove, I let my eyes shut so I could visit dream-space.

"Why are you so frightened, Wihakayda?" Wakan Tanka asked as she brewed up tea for me. It was becoming a habit, both in dream-space and in the real world, to have the calming brew.

"I ... I didn't know what to do," I confessed. "I knew they were looking at me, and I know what they were thinking."

Wakan Tanka nodded. "There are ways to handle such threats. Many spells have the same function - to hide or protect the user from harm. I will begin by teaching you the simplest, the ghost-walking spell."

"Ghost walking? What does that mean?"

"It means that you cannot be seen by normal beings. You are a ghost walking silently and unseen among them." She began to instruct me in that spell until I had it memorized.

"There is another spell which is like ghost-walking, but it is like a warrior's shield." She again instructed me on the simplest shield spell, which was a little more complicated than the ghost-walking spell, but I soon mastered that as well, at least in theory. I still had to practice them in the real world.

Despite Wakan Tanka's assurance and instruction, I was so shaken by the incident that I insisted on drive-through food for dinner, even though Mom really needed to stop to stretch. Mom accompanied me every second when we made a bathroom stop. I didn't stay in the car alone while Mom checked in at the hotel, but stayed close to her, still trembling when I went to bed. Mom cuddled up with me, wrapping her arm around me protectively, and I finally fell asleep.

Something felt _very_ wrong when I entered dream-space. The sky was cloudy and gloomy, not the usual clear, moonlit night with a sparkling starry sky. The fire in the circle burned oddly, dull smoldering embers instead of bright, cheery, dancing flames. Wakan Tanka was not in the fire circle, nor was Debra. Frowning, I went tepee to tepee, searching, but all were empty. As I came out of the last tepee, the breeze kicked up, and it felt chilly, when it should have been pleasant.

I paused, closing my eyes, to feel for Debra's spirit, and I could feel it, but something was quite wrong. Debra was very upset, and it seemed that her spirit was in pain and distant.

"Wakan Tanka!" I cried as I darted about the village. "Where are you? Tatanka! Please come!" Panic was setting in, because dream-space had _never_ given me this ominous a feeling.

Wakan Tanka ran over a nearby hill down to the village. "Wihakayda!" she called urgently. "Cornflower is in danger."

"I ... felt that," I replied. "Where were you? Why weren't you here for me? And what kind of danger is she in?"

"I had to retrieve something very special for you," Wakan Tanka said. Without another word, she produced a leather bundle which she handed to me. As I unwrapped the bundle, she continued. "Do you remember how I told you that a person could be seriously injured in a dream-walk? Something intends to harm Cornflower."

I started at her words; though I'd feared it, and halfway expected it, confirmation struck me hard. After a moment of shock, I finished unwrapping the bundle, which revealed a beaded leather sheath, and some type of knife. The sheath was intricately decorated, its symbols matching those on my own dress and belt. Slowly, glancing warily at Wakan Tanka, I unsheathed it.

The ten-inch, mildly-curved blade shone and glinted like obsidian, with symbols carved into the blade and adorned with silver. I lifted the blade higher, studying it more closely. The handle appeared to be buffalo horn, with symbols for Tatanka and Ptesanwi carved into it, and with semi-precious stones inset in for decoration. "What is it for?"

"This is the Wakan Mila, the knife of Ptesanwi," Wakan Tanka said solemnly. She took the knife from me. "The blade will consume some of your magic, every day, whether you use it or not. It will take you several moons to have as much unbound magic as you have right now."

"What you're saying is that it sets back my learning, right?" She nodded. "And if I don't take it?" I asked, fearing the answer.

"Without Wakan Mila, you have no chance against whatever is harming Cornflower. Either you fight, and you will probably both die, or you abandon Cornflower"

"And with it?"

"With it, you have a chance."

The knife wasn't a guarantee, but it did give me some hope. There was no choice in my mind. "I accept Wakan Mila."

She handed it back to me. "Tie it on your waist, and never again be without it."

"Why is something attacking Debra?"

"Your enemies are also her enemies. They seek to find you through her, and to use her to attack you." Wakan Tanka looked grim. "I do not know which demon-spirit has her, because he has shrouded himself in a dark dream world, but he will be powerful. Do you remember the ghost-walking and shield spells?"

I nodded, shuddering inwardly at the implication of the question.

"Good. There is one more spell that you need." She took the knife from my hand. "But first, the knife must be joined to you," she said enigmatically. She took my hand in hers, and before I could react, she clasped my hand tightly around the blade of the knife, which cut painfully into my flesh. I cried in surprise and pain as the wet stickiness of my blood spread across my fingers and palm. When the blade was wet with my blood, she let my fingers open, and then she closed them again around the handle of the knife.

Green light flashed briefly from the handle, like lightning, and a strong tingling like an electrical shock spread through my hand as my blood met the handle. Then I felt energy flowing both from me into the blade, and from the blade into me. Suddenly, holding the blade felt ... right. It belonged in my hand. I don't know how, but I knew Wakan Mila belonged with me.

"Put Wakan Mila in its sheath," Wakan Tanka said, "and I will instruct you in putting your power into the blade."

I slid the blade easily into its sheath as I pondered her statement. "Do you mean that I can put my magic into the blade?"

Wakan Tanka nodded. "You must be careful. The energy you put in the blade cannot be recovered, and when you have used all your energy, whether in the dream-world or the real world ...." She didn't have to say more; being unconscious for fifteen hours after saving Debra was more than enough of a lesson for me. But I knew that I'd spend fifteen - or more - hours unconscious again if it would save Debra.

"What do we do now?" I asked hesitantly. Wakan Tanka seemed to be preparing me for battle, and that made me more than a bit nervous.

"Now, we go to a realm of nightmares to rescue Cornflower."

Joined as Ptesanwi, guided by the voice of Wakan Tanka within us, we walked to a hill a ways from the village. The entrance was unnaturally dark, and a sense of fear and foreboding emanated from the black opening in the side of the hill. We understood without having to learn; the cave was a symbolic entrance into another dream world, although this one was dark and sinister. Gulping nervously, which was mostly Kayda's reaction, we stepped to the darkness to enter.

Nothing happened. The cave entrance was like a wall, impenetrable to us. We pushed, we cut with the knife, and we did spells, but the wall held firm. Sighing, we stood straighter, and we could feel the power building within us. A beam of intense light shot from our outstretched arm, piercing the blackness of the wall in a visible tear.

At the same time, I was violently ejected from Ptesanwi and thrust through the opening. I turned back toward the portal, nervous, but the Ptesanwi spirit shook her head. "I must hold the gateway open. Go. You have the power and the knowledge to defeat the enemy. But do not assume the enemy will be weak. He is a strong, clever spirit. Through the portal, I can tell that he is one of the children of Unhcegila."

A wave of pain and anguish staggered me, powerful, nearby, and very familiar. I could sense Debra's fear and agony, a sensation very familiar to me from when I had first healed her. I turned and staggered through the stygian darkness, toward the source of the pain, toward Debra. For a moment, I struggled to make out shapes among the blend of ultra-dark shadows, before I remembered a simple spell. Feeling stupid for my glaring oversight, I cast it, and a dim light hovered above my head, casting its faint illumination to dispel what it could of the suffocating blackness. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Cautiously, I stepped through the rocky terrain, avoiding outcroppings and fallen, boulders, all barren and devoid of even a hint of life. The land spirit here was befouled, corrupted and poisoned in ways that made me almost ill, and the air reeked of sulfur and death. I sensed spirits around, but none of them were familiar as the animal spirits Tatanka had been teaching me. Instead, these spirits, too, felt twisted and unnatural.

As I crept forward down the descending path, I could sense the spirits circling behind me, as if to herd me down the slope. Since that was the direction where I sensed Debra's spirit, I knew I had to follow the rocky path forward and down anyway without them.

Rounding a large, crystal-like boulder which jutted from the bedrock, part of a forest of such ebony stones, I found myself at the edge of a clearing about a hundred meters across, in a bowl-shaped depression in the earth. At the center of the clearing was a solitary black crystalline spire, about a meter across and probably four meters in height, and huddled at the base of the spire was a naked form. Even from this distance, I could see bloody injuries on her body. "Debra!" I gasped in shock.

With agonizing slowness, she looked up at me, every move seemingly excruciating to her. "Go away, Kayda," she pleaded softly. "It's a trap."

My resolve had long since been steeled. Something in this pit was torturing Debra, who I considered my best friend, and I was not going to stop until I'd rescued her. "I'm not leaving you."

"You have to! I'm ... I'm ... tainted. I'm ... not safe for you." She was crying even as she tried to warn me away. "If you take me away, I'll eventually succumb and ... kill you!"

"No," I answered again. "I'm not leaving you."

"Such a noble sentiments," a deep voice boomed in flawless Lakota. "I knew that you would come to rescue her, and in so doing, forfeit your own life." The voice laughed mockingly. "She serves her role as a lure perfectly. And even after your death, she will continue to serve me when she brings forth my spawn, to hunt and destroy your mighty Tatanka and the witch you call Wakan Tanka."

I staggered at the implication of what the creature had said, and what Debra had said. Had he ... impregnated her spirit with his evil? I felt rage course through my blood that this vile demon would do such a thing to Debra. I _had_ to stop this, somehow. "Show yourself, unless you are a coward who hides in the shadows."

The voice growled. "You know nothing of bravery and cowardice, little one," it snarled. Even as it spoke, the darkness coalesced into a long, snake-like creature with short forearms ending in nasty-looking talons.

I felt my hand drawing the knife from my belt as I faced the black serpent-creature. "You are not Unhcegila, but you are one of his spawn," I said with certainty. Some of Wakan Tanka's lessons in Native American lore were paying off, but at that moment, I wished that she'd included more lessons in combat.

"You recognize me? And you know who my father is? It is too bad that he is not here to witness your defeat," the serpent creature sneered. "But I shall relish seeing it. And I shall enjoy telling him the tale of your demise."

My head roared with agony as the creature attacked me psychically. I struggled against the pain to recall and recite the words of the shield spell Wakan Tanka had taught me. I faltered twice, the attack disrupting my thought, and I collapsed to my knees, the knife slipping from my grasp. I had to succeed, however, because Debra depended upon me. I tried once more against the raging mental confusion and pain, and as I recited the last words, the mental fog ceased abruptly, like a light turning off. I grasped at the ground to recover my knife.

A huge tail slammed into me, knocking me a dozen or more meters from where I'd been. The creature laughed at me. "So helpless, little one. Where is your spirit, your cunning and skill? Where is your fight? Or did the she-witch choose poorly, picking a helpless little girl who isn't capable of the tasks she should do?" The creature's gaping maw, six feet across and full of sharp teeth and a pair of long fangs, came steadily closer to me. Glowing orange-red embers where its eyes should be bespoke of the malevolent force guiding the creature.

While I was distracted by the serpent-creature's terrifying face, the tail whipped around and smashed me again, hurling me the other direction. My left arm hung limp at my side, badly bruised if not broken. I felt like I'd broken a rib or two - again.

"So weak," the creature snorted disdainfully. "So pathetic."

I glanced around; my only weapon was lost to me. Unless .... I did a chant, to energize the blade as Wakan Tanka had taught me, and I felt the power flowing from me. My mind's eye traced the path to where the energy flowed, and my eyes followed the sense of power. The blade lay on the ground between me and the serpent-creature. I lunged, but the serpent was quicker, its jaws snapping toward my body as its clawed arms slashed at me. I rolled at the last moment, evading being crushed and torn asunder by the mouthful of daggers, but the claw slashed across my back and left arm like a row of razors, tearing apart my flesh nearly to the bone.

Fighting the pain, I grasped the knife, and as old snakey slashed at me with his clawed forearms again, I stabbed. An unholy shriek of agony erupted from the creature as the blade tore into its ebony, ethereal hide. Foul blackness oozed from the gash I'd inflicted on it.

I smiled to myself. So my knife was capable of hurting the creature? I shifted my balance and lunged at old snakey again, causing him to lurch awkwardly and unsteadily away from me and my knife. It was the opening I'd waited for. I quickly cast a ghost-walking spell and darted to the monolith in the center, to where Debra huddled miserably. Knowing I had only a second or two before the deceptively-agile serpent recovered and lunged at me again, if ghost-walking even fooled him, I rolled Debra over, looking for restraints. Her hands and feet were bound with some type of leather cord, which the knife made short work of.

And then old snake-face was lunging at me again, fury in its eyes. The light tingling of ghost-walking turned into embers burning into my entire body as the creature did something that rent my ghost-walking spell like a cheap paper towel. I dove beneath its open maw and stabbed upward with the knife even as the claws raked me again, opening new furrows in my flesh and adding to my agony. As the serpent pulled itself back, its tail swung at me again. I dodged behind the monolith just in time; the tail smashed into the giant crystalline rock and splintered it into shards which peppered and sliced into me like buckshot.

I stabbed again at the hide, this time on its tail, and the knife sank into the tar-colored surface that was its skin. Another wail of agony came from the creature, and it lurched sharply, giving me the moment I wanted.

Quickly, I did a healing spell for Debra and then turned back to the serpent. I'd guessed that he wasn't going to give up, and he was proving me correct. Again he lunged at me, and again I ducked, my knife doing a little more damage before one of the razor-tipped arms slashed my right forearm and smashed the knife from my grasp. I crumpled and rolled just in time to avoid the serpent's body, which after rearing up slightly, had smashed against the rocky ground to crush me.

I dodged around the remains of the monolith, to where Debra was sitting, semi-dazed. I knew, somehow, that the serpent-creature would attack Debra if I miraculously started to get the upper hand in the mostly one-sided battle. I ran to her, casting a ghost-walking spell on her, touching her as I did so, and she faded to a translucent shimmering figure as I hobbled away from her, hopefully luring snake-face away.

The serpent was furious; it lashed out, lunging at me, followed immediately by a tail smash. I dodged the jaws and claws this time, but the tail caught me across the back, sending me tumbling across the clearing. I was once more sans knife, having dropped it in the thing's earlier attack, and fang-face was turning for yet another attack, enraged and obviously determined to finish the battle. He hadn't expected to be hurt, and now that I _had_ hurt him, his attack would undoubtedly be full-out and as powerful as he was capable of.

I backed away, helpless, unarmed, and battered, as the snake advanced on me. "You put up more of a fight than I'd thought you capable," it sneered at me. "But your end was inevitable." It began to coil its massive body, giving it a massive striking range. Between the cavernous mouth and the razor-sharp claws, one more attack would probably prove fatal to me. I knew that I could try to run, but that would mean abandoning Debra to whatever foul fate the creature had in store for her. I couldn't let her be condemned to whatever hell this thing had come from.

A ghostly shape stood up beside what had once been an imposing monolith before it had been shattered to rubble. Debra saw me, cornered, battered, and helpless, and she acted. She saw my knife lying on the ground, and picking it up, she leaped at the creature and stabbed into the mid-back of the serpent-abomination. As Debra thrust, I pushed almost all my remaining magical energy, hoping it would flow to the blade.

The ebony blade sank to its hilt in the jet-black skin of the creature. Only the wail of a banshee could have outdone the screech of pure agony which the creature bellowed forth as the magically-infused knife tore into the abomination, energy rippling from the wound to cause more pain from within. It flopped heavily to one side before it could strike me, seriously injured, although I could tell from the feeling of a foul spirit that it still lived.

Debra hobbled to me, gazing warily at the serpent-creature in case he was to rouse and attack again. Supporting each other, we limped out of the clearing, finding the path back toward the cave entrance, fleeing the wounded blackness that was the snake-creature. Climbing the rocky path was difficult, as injured as we both were, and the feel of the unnatural spirits around me frightened me; I had been badly wounded by the serpent creature, and defeating him had used nearly all my magic. If the dark spirits had attacked then, we would have been easily defeated.

Ptesanwi was still holding open the portal out of this nightmare world, and as soon as we slipped through, she let the hole collapse. Overhead, the sky began to clear almost immediately, and the breeze was already fresher-smelling and warmer. Wakan Tanka put her arm around me from the other side, and with the two of them supporting me, we limped into the tepee village.

Despite our teamwork, and how we'd saved each other, Debra wouldn't sit near me. She had a haunted look in her eyes, from which tears streamed. While I watched her, puzzled, Wakan Tanka mixed up some tea for me, which I greedily consumed.

"Debra needs some," I told Wakan Tanka, surprised that she was eyeing Debra warily.

"Not yet," Wakan Tanka directed me enigmatically. "First, you must heal the injuries to your spirit body. Then and only then will you be strong enough to take care of Debra."

I nearly fell backward, exhausted, off the log I'd been sitting on when I finished the healing spell on myself. I was still battered and bloody, and my left arm still hurt, but I was feeling far less pain. I also felt utterly spent.

Wakan Tanka sat beside me, still warily eyeing Debra, who still wouldn't make eye contact with us. "Mix a tea with the herbs I say," she directed. One by one, she called out the ingredients and amount

As I put them into the brew, recognition dawned, and my eyebrows rose. "These are ...."

Wakan Tanka nodded knowingly. "She must purge the demon-seed from herself. The spell you will cast, with the special brew you are making, will do that for her."

"What if ... what if she doesn't believe in ...?"

"If she doesn't do this, she will die. The spawn of the serpent-creature will eat their way out of her, killing her in an agonizingly painful, slow death. She will die in the dream world, and she will die in the real world. Before she dies in the real world, though, she will be driven mad by what is happening to her." She looked at me with a level gaze. "You have no choice. She must take the medicine, and you must incant the spell I tell you if you wish to save her life."

I nodded, understanding. I completed the brew, and then, with Wakan Tanka guiding me, I incanted a spell over the concoction. When I was done, I was so fatigued that I could barely remain sitting. Wakan Tanka took the foul-smelling brew to Debra and made her drink it.

When Wakan Tanka came back to me, she sat down wearily. "I will protect her from the serpent creature. You did not destroy him, so he will try to attack you or her again. I will watch her and keep her safe until she is well."

"How long ... will she sleep?"

"She should be rid of the spawn within hours. I will give her the rest of the brew in a few hours to be certain."

I sat with Debra, my arm around her shoulder, for some time, comforting her and reassuring her that everything would be okay. Since there was no correlation between time in dream-space and time in real-space, a day and a half passed in my dream world, all of which I spent holding her and trying to break through the haunted look on her face. Suddenly, she rose, stiffly, and walked out of the tepee village. I followed her from a discrete distance, watching as she went behind some bushes. When she returned a half-hour later, she was exceedingly pale. Following Wakan Tanka's suggestion, I took her to the creek, and disrobing, waded with her out into the cool running water. She flopped down on her butt, and let the waters swirl around her waist for quite a while. Finally, I helped her up, helped her dress, and walked her back to the village.

It was nightfall again in my dream-world, and Debra looked exhausted, though not as pale as she had before I'd made some healing tea for her. I still held her close, even though we didn't talk much. Finally, as the campfire grew faint, I led her into a tepee and helped her lie down on a buffalo skin bed.

"Please stay with me," she asked in a tiny, frightened voice, speaking for the first time since we'd escaped the nightmare world.

I lay down beside her, cuddling close and holding her so she would feel safe. When I thought she was sleeping soundly, I sat up, gently so as not to wake her, so I could talk with Wakan Tanka, but she stirred anyway. She was afraid to be left alone, so I stayed with her. Sensing she was distraught, I gave her a quick kiss, but found my head held tightly as she kissed me back with a fervor I'd never experienced.

Much later, when I knew Debra was comfortably sleeping, I slipped out to the fire circle. Wakan Tanka sat with Tatanka, as if expecting me.

"What now?" I asked simply. "Was she in real danger, in the real world, I mean?"

Wakan Tanka nodded. "Yes."

I shivered uncontrollably; she could not have planned a more dramatic demonstration of the potential dangers of dream-walking. "How ... How do we protect her? How do we keep this from happening again?"

"You care for her very much, and you don't want to see her hurt, do you?"

I shook my head. "Yes. I ... I ... She is my friend. I think that I might even love her."

"That is something that could be used against you. You are strong enough that most demons and spirits cannot directly attack you in the dream-world, but Debra is vulnerable. I will teach you a ward that will protect her from the evil spirit that tried to harm her and to kill you. With the magic, it will be safe for her to enter the dream world with you. But you will need to rest until you have saved enough magic energy to create the ward."

"How long before she's safe? How long before I can dream-walk with her?" I asked.

"I will keep her in your dream-world for a time to ensure that she stays safe and has fully healed, until you can rest and I can teach you the protection spell. Because she will be in _your_ dream world, none can attack her. You may visit her whenever you dream-walk."

"Will that mean ... she's unconscious in the real world?" I speculated.

Wakan Tanka nodded. "It is necessary to ensure that she is healed in both worlds."

"I should explain the situation to her friends, I suppose.

Wakan Tanka nodded. "When you can, you should spend time here with her. She had a very difficult experience and she needs someone familiar to care for her."

I nodded. I was feeling the effects of the battle and healing; I went into the tepee with Debra and cuddled with her again, comforting her more as we both rested from the nightmare we'd endured.

Monday, March 12, 2007
Madison, Wisconsin

I awoke feeling tired and still unnerved. Peculiarly, the knife, in its decorative sheath, was clutched in my hand. It was a brutal reminder of the terrifyingly difficult battle with the serpent-creature. I knew little of fighting, and snake-face had been tough. Without the magic of the knife, I wouldn't have had any chance of survival, let alone defeating him. As it was, I would have lost even with the magic if it hadn't been for Debra. I hadn't won; we'd survived, but in a different sense, we'd won because I rescued her. I was rattled from what had happened to her, all because she cared for me. Would the creatures of nightmares now attack my family? It was terrifying to think that my very existence as Ptesanwi could threaten the lives of those close to me. I knew I would have to talk with Wakan Tanka about how to protect everyone I loved.

Mom gave me a wary look as I beheld the sheathed knife. "What ...?" she stammered, confused.

"This is the knife of Ptesanwi, Wakan Mila. It is a gift that Wakan Tanka gave it to me last night." I debated telling Mom about the dream-world battle of the previous night, before deciding that I didn’t want to upset her, at least not yet.

I rose and put Wakan Mila atop my luggage, and then I showered and got dressed. Instead of going to get breakfast alone as I had before, I waited for Mom to do the same. For breakfast, in addition to a glass of juice, I got a cup of hot water. Back in the room, before I ate anything, I got out my medicine bag and mixed up some herbs the way Wakan Tanka had taught me. While the tea brewed, I ate the rest of my breakfast, so that by the time that was done, my herbal tea was ready.

I closed my eyes for a moment and went into dream-space, to get the magic chant from Wakan Tanka. I thought I remembered it, but I wanted to be sure. It turned out that I had remembered it properly, which pleased her. With my eyes still closed, sitting in the proper position, I did the chant, and then sipped the herbal brew. It tasted exactly as it had in my dreams, and within minutes I felt calmness return to me.

As soon as I was calmer, I called the Sioux Falls League, on a private number which they'd given me. Wish List answered the phone. "Hi, Wish List," I said, trying but failing to sound cheery.

"Kayda! What's up? Is everything okay?" she asked when she heard the concern slipping through my cheerful façade.

I sighed. "No. But it's not the trip," I assured her quickly. "It's ... Debra. She was psychically attacked and injured last night."

Wish List gasped audibly. "I ... I don't understand."

I sighed audibly. "I'm going to tell you something that you have to keep secret, okay?"

"Okay. If I can. You know the rules."

I knew. Some things she was obligated to report, either to law enforcement or the rest of the team. "When I healed Debra, I had to dream-walk with her. It was ... personal. Very personal. We dream walked several more times, too." I lowered my voice to a whisper so Mom wouldn't hear - hopefully. "We're kind of ... close."

"Ah, so that explains your ... fond farewell."

I could feel myself blushing. "Yeah, that too. But please keep it a secret!" I pushed away my embarrassment. "Last night, Debra was tricked in dream space by a creature that wanted to harm me. She was lured into a trap as bait to catch me."

I'm certain that Wish List's eyes were huge. "What ... happened?"

"She was attacked and assaulted. I ... got some help from Wakan Tanka, and I battled a spirit creature to save her." I could practically feel Mom's wide-eyed stare of disbelief at what she overheard.

"Is she going to be alright?" Wish List asked quickly.

"Yes, but that's what I need to tell you guys. She ... had some bad things happen to her in the dark dream-world, and to make sure she doesn't have long-term ... effects, Wakan Tanka and I are watching her for a while in _my_ dream world, where she's safe. We had to ... treat ... some of what the serpent creature did, or it would have driven her insane and killed her."

"Oh, my God!" Wish List exclaimed.

"She'll be okay, but she's resting. You aren't going to be able to waken her for a day or two, because she needs to be healed psychically in dream-space. Wakan Tanka and I will be with her to help her heal. I needed to tell you so that you wouldn't panic when she didn't wake up."

"I ... I appreciate the heads up. Is there any way ... that I can help?"

I thought a moment. "Maybe. Since you visited my dream-space when we were doing powers testing, and since Debra is in my dream-space, maybe if you try to link with her psychically, you will be able to link with her and Wakan Tanka. Maybe I can help you into my dream-space. I'll ask Wakan Tanka if it can be done, and I'll tell her that you are Debra's friend, and she and Tatanka shouldn't block you."

"We'll give that a try and let you know if it works. Thanks much for the information. Please keep us posted on progress."

"I will. Thanks." I felt myself a little choked up. "Even though it's only been a day, I really miss you guys."

"We miss you, too, li'l sis."

When I hung up, I turned to Mom, knowing that I had some serious explaining to do. I gulped, and then told her, in detail, what had happened. Mom listened without saying anything, but I could tell from her expression that she was very concerned about my safety, even if she didn't understand the whole thing. She wasn't alone in that regard; I didn't understand it, either. The difference was that I had a spirit who was teaching me. Mom had to trust me, and it must have been extremely difficult for her to not say anything.

**********

Chicago, IL

We were on the outskirts on the eastern side of the Chicago metro area when the Check Engine Light came on about the same time as the car started to make strange sounds. To my experienced ear, it sounded very much like it was the transmission, and the noise was getting worse with every passing mile. I could have figured out more through the 'feel' of the car if I'd been driving, but since I couldn't, I had to go entirely on Mom's description and the sounds I could hear. We took an exit and stopped at a quickie gas place while I called the Windy City Guardians. One of them promised to be right over to 'watch' us, just in case.

My next call was to the rental agency, which was not thrilled to talk to me, since I wasn't the renter on the contract. They were even less than thrilled when I reported that we were having car problems and were currently stranded in Chicago. That started a snarky and scathing lecture about taking the car out of state, until I was able to interject some sense and remind them that our rental was a one-way rental, and they would have known that if they would have merely looked up the terms of the contract on their computers. Then they insisted on talking to the original renter, who was Wish List back in Sioux Falls.

Before I could call Wish List, though, a super dropped from the sky to the side of our disabled car. He looked at us, focusing on me. "Are you Kayda Franks?" he asked pointedly.

"Uh, yeah." I didn't feel very confident and I could feel Tatanka's nervousness inside me.

"I'm Wing Nut, with the Windy City Guardians. I got a call that you were having some difficulty." He smiled charmingly at Mom and me. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

"Probably the transmission. If I had to guess, the main pump is failing, because the transmission isn't shifting right and the torque converter isn't locking up properly because it isn't getting the fluid it's supposed to."

Wing Nut smiled. "For a young lady, you seem to know a lot about cars."

I shrugged. "It's something you learn growing up on a farm."

While we were talking, a man walked out of the quickie-mart, and when he saw the hood of our car up, with the two of us looking quite stranded and standing next to a superhero, he approached us. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked Mom. He was glancing periodically at the sheath on my belt, with the hilt my knife protruding.

"I don't know. Kayda's been trying to talk with the rental agency and the group who rented the car for us, but so far, we're getting the runaround.

The man extended his hand to Mom. "I'm Harold Eisenbach, but I go by Hal. If you ladies need help, perhaps with a tow, or temporary lodging, I can give you some recommendations." I could tell that he was being judicious with his choice of words so as not to sound threatening or predatory. He glanced at the super. "Morning, Wing Nut."

"Morning, Hal," Wing Nut replied in a simple, neutral greeting. I was surprised that Wing Nut knew the man who'd offered us help, and the fact that he knew Wing Nut seemed odd enough that a shiver ran down my spine.

Mr. Eisenbach turned back to Mom, smiling knowingly. "I know how much of a hassle rental car agencies can be. Who did you rent from?"

"Acme."

Hal grinned. "My office has a long-term contract with them. At least allow me to give you a contact in Acme's management chain to smooth the issues." He turned to Wing Nut. "What brings you here? I didn't know the Guardians were branching out into tow and mechanic services."

Wing Nut shrugged. "I'm just doing a favor for someone. What about you? Are you on duty?"

Mr. Eisenbach laughed. "No, I worked a long weekend, so I have the day off. I was just stopping to pick up a few snacks for Jimmy - you know how he loves the teriyaki jerky sticks? Well, this is one of the few places that have the brand he likes, and I kind of promised him." He smiled. "When you dropped in, my curiosity got the better of me"

"That's your standard excuse for showing up," Wing Nut replied with a chuckle.

"What exactly is this favor, if I may ask?" Mr. Eisenbach's questions weren't normal.

"The Sioux Falls League asked us to help a young lady on a journey."

"Oh?" His eyes narrowed. His entire demeanor seemed to shift ominously. "And would that be because, perhaps, she's a mutant on a car trip, and had some previous ... difficulties ... that she's trying to get away from?" he speculated. My blood ran ice-cold. He looked at me. "Could you please remove your sunglasses, miss?" he asked me. He was alternating his gaze between my sunglasses and my knife. To me, his request sounded more like a demand, and I started shaking.

Wing Nut put his hand on my shoulder. "Hal is with the local MCO field office. He's ...." That was as far as he got. My face was suddenly ashen, my eyes reflecting the terror in my heart, and my pulse raced as I considered that he was MCO. The same MCO that had such a bad reputation for making mutants disappear. The same MCO that had followed Mom and me. The same MCO that had delayed my MID as they hunted me.

Wing Nut felt me shaking with fright. "Don't worry. Hal is a good MCO agent. He's fair and honest. We work together all the time cooperatively. He's not like some of those bad agents you hear about."

"B...b...but ... in Sioux Falls, they ...." I broke down, trembling at memories and fears, unable to continue. Mom had to clutch me to her shoulder to prevent me from collapsing.

"Oh, not those assholes in Sioux Falls again," Mr. Eisenbach swore vehemently. "I don't know how many times I've told Bennie that we need to reassign them or fire them." There was visible anger in his voice. His tone softened immediately when he saw how terrified I appeared. "Sorry about the language, but I really get annoyed by agents who let their bigotry take them outside the law and our charter, and those two are among the worst. Can you tell me about what happened?"

I glanced at Mom, who shrugged with an uncertain expression, then at Wing Nut. He smiled at me. "Go ahead. Hal is okay to work with. And I'm here to protect you, just in case."

With that reassurance, I recounted briefly how I'd manifested, been nearly killed twice, had fled a bunch of vigilante mutant-haters, found out that they'd reported that _I_ had attacked the students and Doc had lied to back them, and then found the MCO office in Sioux Falls stalking us and being completely uncooperative in getting me an MID.

Mr. Eisenbach looked sympathetic by the time I finished. "I understand why you're a little frightened of me," he said soothingly. "But I want to assure you that the Sioux Falls office is pretty mutant-unfriendly, and they're in tight with the East-River, South Dakota branch of Humanity First. They aren't representative of the entire agency." He smiled. "How about if we go to the office, and you can tell your story to Internal Affairs so we can take some action against those guys, and then we'll get you that MID card that it sounds like they were deliberately stalling on. And I can use the agency's agreement with Acme to push them to get you a new rental quickly so you can continue your trip. I assume you're on your way to Whateley?" His smile was pleasant and disarming, but he still made me nervous.

Wing Nut clasped his hand a little tighter on my shoulder for reassurance. "I'll come with you, if that'll make you feel safer."

I was torn. Mr. Eisenbach was more like the MCO of the television shows, and seemed to genuinely want to help. On the other hand, he was MCO, and my experience with the Sioux Falls field office made me more than a bit skeptical. I was torn. Mom just shrugged and shook her head uncertainly when I looked to her for her opinion. "Can I call a friend for advice?" I asked. When they nodded, I stepped closer to the building, out of their hearing range, and called Vanity Girl, since Wish List was already on the phone arguing with the rental car agency. I figured I'd get the best advice from her. "Hi, VG," I said when she picked up the phone, using the nickname she'd told us.

"Kayda! I'm glad you called. Is everything okay?" I heard the echo which told me that she'd turned on the speaker-phone.

"Maybe. How's Debra doing?"

Vanity Girl sighed. "She's resting, but it's almost like she's in a trance. I'm glad you called us to let us know what happened, or we'd be very worried."

"Was Wish List able to connect psychically with her?" I asked.

"Yes, and she said to tell you thanks for getting Walkie Talkie and the buffalo to not attack her. She said they were very protective of her."

"Wakan Tanka. Tell her the name is Wakan Tanka."

I heard VG giggle. I was pretty certain that she and Wish List were just yanking my chain. "Wish List said that something really traumatized her, so Wakan Tanka had her drinking some of your stinky medicinal tea."

"Good. Wakan Tanka will take care of her, and I'm dream-walking with her as much as I can. Now, about my call. I need to ask a favor of you." I quickly explained the situation to her.

"Yeah, Wish List is fuming on the phone with the rental agency, but isn't making any progress."

"Uh, do you guys have any information on the MCO office in Chicago?"

"Why do you ask?" Vanity Girl replied, her voice suddenly serious and concerned.

"Uh, an agent from the MCO office was out doing some errands, or so he claims, and when someone from the Windy City Guardians arrived, he figured out what was going on. He ... demanded that I take off my sunglasses so he could see if I was a mutant or not." My voice was still trembling from the shock of learning who he was.

"What?"

"Wing Nut is here, too. The thing is, Wing Nut vouches for him, and he said he could help us with the rental car agency, and even maybe find out why my MID is stalled, and ...." I stopped because I was trembling too badly.

"Calm down, Kayda," Vanity Girl reassured me. "What's the agent's name?"

"Sorry. It's been kind of trying, with the nightmare last night, and now this. The agent's name is Hal Eisenbach," I answered.

"Wing Nut is with the Chicago group, and they promised to help protect you. They will, even from the MCO if necessary. Tractor is looking up the data, but if the local supers vouch for him, he's probably okay."

"But ...." I stammered. "They ...." I couldn't continue because I was so distraught.

"Wing Nut is there to help you," she reassured me. "And ... hold on. Tractor's got the data now. We're showing a green for Agent Eisenbach. If that's who he really is."

"Uh huh, I'm pretty sure. He showed me his ID card and badge, and Wing Nut vouches for him. Do you think I should trust him?" I asked bluntly.

"If I were you," she said hesitantly, "yes, I would. Having an MID would really make it less stressful for you to travel, and he might be able to neutralize the bad records from the Sioux Falls office. And he can get it set up to cover your former identity, so that you can use your old drivers' license and help your mom with the driving." She paused. "But I'm not you, so you'll have to make your own choice."

"Thanks. I miss you guys."

"We all miss our little sister, too. You and Walkie Talkie take care of Debra, okay? And please be careful driving."

"I will, I promise." I hung up and went back to the group. "My ... friend ... says that you have a good reputation, and that I can trust you." I glanced at Wing Nut. "I hope you don't think I'm rude, but I really want Wing Nut to come with us, too."

Mr. Eisenbach said with a knowing look, "I can't say that I blame you, after what some of our, ahem, more enthusiastic and less scrupulous officers did." He pulled out his cell phone. "I'm going to call Acme and get them on this right away. They'll either get it fixed ASAP, or they'll get you a replacement car while we go to the office."

"What about our luggage?" Mom asked.

"You can leave it in the car if you'd like. I know Acme won't touch it; we're too valuable a customer to annoy or anger. If they get a new rental, they'll put everything in the new car, and then request - strongly - that you inspect the contents to make sure everything is present and that nothing is missing or damaged. Or you can put it in the trunk of my car for the time being."

Mom glanced at me, and then at Wing Nut. "I think we can leave it in the car if you think it's safe. We're going to have to wait until they come to pick up the car, though, since I've got the keys."

Mr. Eisenbach grinned. His personality was slowly easing my fear, but I was still shaking inside. "I understand completely." He picked up his phone and called the rental agency. In less than five minutes, he had things settled. "There. That was easy. They'll have a truck here in a few minutes. In the meantime, they have a small sitting area inside where we can get a cup of coffee and donuts while we wait." He glanced at me again. "Um, the knife ...." I could tell he was uneasy that I had the large blade strapped to my belt.

"It has religious significance. I'm Lakota. Traditional religious items like knives _are_ permitted by federal law, except on airplanes and in some federal buildings."

"You know your regulations well." He chuckled. "I know it's going to make a few people nervous in the office. That should be amusing to watch."

When we walked into the MCO office about a half hour later, many the on-duty staff were looking at me strangely, and some stared pretty blatantly at the knife sheath on my hip. I was more nervous than ever, certain in my mind that everyone knew I was a mutant and hated me just for existing. But many of the staff members were as friendly as Mr. Eisenbach. He paused by one cubicle. "Steff, I need you to witness and record a complaint that I need to file with Internal Affairs."

With Mom, Wing Nut, and I in tow, he went to his office - a real office instead of a mere cubicle. I was stunned to see the title beside the door - Mr. Eisenbach was deputy administrator for the Chicago area office of the MCO. Steff was right behind us. With Hal prompting me, I went through the entire set of experiences - minus the gender change - and described my interactions with the Sioux Falls MCO office. When we were done, Steff left the office.

Mr. Eisenbach was, for a moment, businesslike. "We can't do anything about their deliberate stall on your MID. Regulations say that they have thirty days, and they didn't violate that rule. But the rest of it, coupled with the internal bulletins and reports they've filed, should - hopefully - be the nail in the coffin for their careers. I really have to thank you for helping. Most mutants are scared to death of us, and I have to admit with good reason, thanks to some rogue agents like those guys."

"Uh, I'm getting a little hungry," I said hesitantly. "Can Mom and I go get something to eat?"

He winced as he glanced at the clock. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I lost track of what time it is. How about if I take you out for lunch? The agency can pay for something reasonable, since you did fill out a statement as part of official business. There's a wonderful little French bistro across the street. It's one of my favorite places to eat."

We took him up on his recommendation, and I had to admit that the food wasn't just good; it was heavenly. I'd never tasted such a delicate blending of flavors that were layered and interacted in such a perfect way. On Mr. Eisenbach's recommendation, I started with a paté sampler, which made me think that I thought I was in epicurean heaven. Then I had something called poulet à la marocaine, which I was told meant Moroccan chicken. If I thought the paté was good, the chicken was food fit for the gods. I could taste several known and a few unknown flavors blended into the dish, which wasn't surprising, since Mom never cooked anything international. It was on a bed of something rice-like called couscous. Mom just stared at me and shook her head as I nearly had taste-bud orgasms, it was _that_ good. I'd never eaten anything so good before, and I doubted I would again for a long time.

Mr. Eisenbach noticed my expression as I ate. "Now you know why it's one of my favorite restaurants," he said with a warm smile. For some reason, his demeanor reminded me a lot of Dad, and I had to fight from crying because I already missed Dad a lot, even though it had only been a few days. His bravery when faced with an angry mob was permanently imprinted on my mind as proof that, no matter what, Dad loved me.

When we got back to the office, sated and still tasting the wonderful flavors of my meal, we started working on an MID card for me. Mr. Eisenbach checked the computer, and just as he suspected, the data had already been entered into the MCO database, along with a peculiar label of DFA.

"Oh, HELL NO!" Mr. Eisenbach roared when he saw that label.

"What does it mean?" I asked timidly, startled by the vehemence of his reaction. I saw Wing Nut glaring at the screen as well, his expression a mixture of rage and fright.

"It means," Mr. Eisenbach said through clenched teeth, "that two agents in Sioux Falls are going to be arrested by the DPA, the Department of Paranormal Affairs." He cursed under his breath. "Didn't those idiots get the memo about what happened to the Berlin office?"

I frowned. "What does it mean?" I asked again.

"It means, 'Deadly Force pre-Authorized,'", Mr. Eisenbach said, visibly struggling to control his temper. "It means that any MCO agent or law enforcement agent can use deadly force against the holder of an MID so tagged, without any other justification required."

I don’t know who was whiter - mom or me. "You mean ...." Mom stammered.

Wing Nut nodded grimly. "It means that if you have _that_ on your MID, you could be killed for something simple like jaywalking if an officer was so inclined, and no-one would be able to legally do anything about it."

"It also means that the agents who did this are _definitely_ at the end of their MCO careers," Mr. Eisenbach said. "The office near Whateley put DFA on the ID cards of _many_ students, and when the DPA found out, they arrested the _entire_ Berlin office."

"Why?"

"According to US law, a DFA cannot be placed on the card of a US citizen who is a minor without due process of law. The entire Berlin MCO office was charged with numerous counts of civil rights violations and for conspiracy to commit mass murder of children."

"What?" I asked, stunned. I glanced at Wing Nut, and he nodded his affirmation.

"Several MCO officers from other offices have been likewise arrested or relieved of duty for the same things." He grinned. "Now I've got those bastards right where I want them!" He punched a button on his phone. "Steff," he barked, "get back in here. We've got a DFA violation."

Steff practically ran back to Mr. Eisenbach's office, and the two became _very_ busy copying and locking computer files. "Oh, this is going to piss off the DPA!" Mr. Eisenbach snarled at the screen.

I sighed. "What else are they trying to do to me?"

"They've put a priority threat tag on your case file." From where I sat, I could see him entering some computer credentials, and he began to type furiously in the computer. "Well, _that_ little piece of nastiness is gone."

"Do you have any power testing results?" Wing Nut asked, still looking over Mr. Eisenbach's shoulder at the screen.

"Yeah," Mom answered, digging in her purse. She produced a copy of the Sioux Falls League's report.

Wing Nut looked at the paper, and then the screen. "Oh, they _are_ getting creative, aren't they?"

"What do you mean?" I was more than slightly curious about _my_ file and MCO data.

"They're a little prone to exaggeration," Mr. Eisenbach said. "For example, the Sioux Falls League rates you as a Wiz-3, but the Sioux Falls office put you as a Wiz-5. They ranked you as Regen-5 as well." His fingers danced over the keyboard as he corrected the data to accurately reflect what the Sioux Falls League report _really_ said. A final flourish of keystrokes, and he leaned back. "Records copied for prosecution, your file has been corrected, and it's now locked for evidence, which means that they can't go in and redo their misdeeds."

"Good," Mom said. Both of us were breathing a little easier, I suspected.

"There's also the issue of your code name," Mr. Eisenbach said. "I seriously don't think you want to use the code-name those clowns entered."

"What did they put down?" I asked, curious.

"Injun," Mr. Eisenbach answered with a frown.

Mom and I both winced at that pejorative code name. "No!" I said firmly. " Absolutely not! What are the rules for a code-name?"

"You can use a temporary one until you're eighteen, but after that, it's very difficult to change. You can't use anything that's trademarked, and believe me, a ton of the possible superhero and supervillain names are trademarked."

I looked deeply into the fire, as if seeking an answer among the embers and flames, but nothing would come to me.

"You are troubled, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka and Tatanka both noted as they sat beside me.

"I need a code name," I replied glumly. "Something meaningful, but that disguises my true nature, like wiciteglega does."

Tatanka smiled. "You learn well, Wihakayda."

"You are a dream walker," Wakan Tanka said.

"Yeah, but that tells people that I'm a shaman, doesn't it?"

"You are pejuta, a waphiya winyan" Wakan Tanka said. "Medicine woman. But you are _far_ more than just pejuta."

"Then I will use pejuta," I replied. "It's accurate, but not a complete description of who and what I am."

I smiled as I let the dream-world fade. "I think I'd like Pejuta – if I can."

Mr. Eisenbach looked curiously at me. "Pejuta?"

"It means 'medicine.' Properly, I'd use 'Pejuta Wiya', but that's a little long, I think."

"Okay," Mr. Eisenbach nodded. "Pejuta. How is that spelled?"

"P . E . J . U . T . A," I replied. "Pronounced pay-hoo-tah."

Mr. Eisenbach entered the data in his computer. "In accordance with the law and with your civil rights, this file should NOT have your name on it, only your code name. I'll try to clean off your real name, but it's in the database, so ..." The awkward silence let me know that the MCO might have something they weren't supposed to have – my real name. At least he was honest about it.

"One thing that's problematic - they have your file tagged as an 'active investigation', and I can't take that tag off."

"What does that mean?" I asked nervously.

Mr. Eisenbach frowned. "Unfortunately, it means that even though we can get you an MID, any use of the MID with an MCO checkpoint will result in you being detained relating to the active investigation."

"And there are more than a few ... unscrupulous ...."

"Mutant-hating," Mom sneered.

Wing Nut nodded, a grim look on his face. "Mutant-hating MCO agents that you would be risking detention – or worse – if you were to fly."

Mom sighed. "I was hoping we could just get tickets and fly the rest of the way. I guess not."

Steff laughed. "Isn't it every teenage girl's idea of fun to spend several days alone with her mother in a car, where she can't escape?"

Mom chuckled, but I was horror-stricken, and my expression must have showed it, because Wing Nut and Mr. Eisenbach joined the laughter.

"The good news is that the 'active investigation' tag will expire automatically in sixty days unless it's updated, and with where these two are going, they won't be updating any files anytime soon!" Mr. Eisenbach stood. "Your file doesn't have your biometric data, so if you can come to our lab, we'll get that data, get it entered, and you'll have your MID within an hour."

"Uh," I stammered, glancing nervously at Wing Nut, Steff, and Mr. Eisenbach, "I have my old drivers' license and school records in a different name."

Steff looked at me, and then a light bulb seemed to go off in her head. She took me by the elbow and pulled me aside. "We'll get you a note that all documents that apply to your old name are valid for your new name. But that'll only be temporary. You will have to file the proper paperwork with your state of residence to get records changed to your new name."

I was tickled because I loved driving, and the document would allow me back behind the wheel, because, to be honest, I was a lousy passenger. Mom was thrilled because she didn't like driving more than a few hours in a day.

It was after four-thirty in the afternoon when we finished up and met the rental car agency in the building's parking garage. They had a new car, upgraded from what we'd been driving. I hoped that Mr. Eisenbach hadn't used bonus points or frequent renter awards to get us the upgrade, but that Acme had done it on its own. When Wish List called to tell us that they were getting us a new car, and that our rental would be upgraded, I strongly lobbied for something like a Mustang GT or a Nissan 350Z, but Mom wasn't listening to me. She wanted something with a better ride. Eventually, realizing that she was intractable, I relented and gave in to Mom's wishes, and we took the BMW 5-series that they offered. And as Mr. Eisenbach had promised, when we checked our luggage, everything was there, totally undisturbed. By special agreement, they also had me listed as a driver on the new rental agreement. I knew that Cornflower was going to be so jealous. And I was forced to rethink my opinion of the MCO.

Since it was late, Mom and I opted to spend the night in Chicago rather than try to drive for a couple of hours. We'd get up early in the morning and try to make up for lost time. We got checked in, went out for a nice dinner, and had time to relax in the room before bedtime. I spent some of the spare time reading Tractor's book on Greek history, while Mom talked to Dad. I also called Julie, and we were able to talk for a few minutes before her parents came home. There wasn't much news in town; some of the townsfolk were publicly and vocally rejoicing that the mutant menace was gone, but a lot more were silent, and a few had been whispering about me in school, asking discretely if anyone knew how I was doing. I also had a strange text from Grandma Little Doe, asking if I knew who all had attacked me both times. When I pressed for why she wanted that, she replied that she wanted to avoid such evil people, and their family businesses. It was hard to read her emotions in a text message, and her excuse didn't convince me, but I sent her the list, as best as I could remember.

I called my friends in the league, and when Tractor answered, the first question he asked was if I knew more about Debra. The second question he asked was whether I'd had time to study any Greek history. Vanity Girl took the phone away from Tractor at that point; otherwise, he would have talked ancient history for hours. I found out from Vanity Girl that Dad had taken care of the paperwork and faxed it back, and had reviewed the pictures and marked ones that he thought were inappropriate. She laughed; the poster Debra had made and that I had autographed for her was on Dad's 'definite no' list. They already had a publisher for the posters and calendars; the publisher was very confident that those items would sell very well; they thought they'd have the posters in the stores within two weeks, and the calendars two weeks later. Wish List and Card Trick took her turn talking to me, and Wish List told me that she'd been able to psychically visit Debra several times during the day, and that she was doing better, mentioning in passing that Tatanka was acting like he was Debra's personal guardian.

That reminded me that I hadn't opened the gifts from Debra, so as soon as I hung up, I turned my attention to them. I'd tell her what I thought when I dream-walked with her that evening. The tube had one of the posters - the same one Debra had hung in her bedroom - but with a very personalized note by her. The box was even nicer - a very naughty lace teddy and panty combo that I _know_ Debra would have died to see me wearing. I wondered if I could wear it for Debra in dream-space. When Mom raised her eyebrows with a concerned 'Mom' look, I couldn't help blushing brightly.

It was still weird to share a room with Mom, and see her in various states of undress and showering and such, but I wasn't as freaked out as I had been the first night. Not quite as much. I wondered if I'd ever get used to it. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that Mom was doing that as 'shock therapy', to get me over the initial shock of common facilities with other females. After all, I was going to be using common facilities with a lot of other girls in Poe Cottage, and seeing _them_ all naked was going to be very weird unless I started to get over my feelings now. The thought of sharing a bathroom and showers with a lot of other naked girls was both frightening and thrilling. I was afraid that either I'd remember my 'boy days' and feel horny as hell at their naked bodies, or that I'd be so shy about them seeing _my_ body that I'd choose my shower times to avoid that.

I went to bed while Mom was watching the late shows on the television. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep, probably with a grin of anticipation of meeting Debra in dream space. I had a few surprises for her."

Debra clung close to me as we sat on a buffalo rug inside a tepee. It was late and a bit cool outside, and the moon wasn't out, so Wakan Tanka had started a small fire in the center of the tepee. Because I'd grown up under the partial tutelage of Grandma Little Doe, who'd made Danny and I build a reasonably accurate tepee, I knew that the design was very efficient at carrying smoke up and out, as if the entire structure were a well-engineered smokestack. The flickering light danced around the ornately-decorated inner curtain of tanned buffalo hides, actually making it quite cozy. I suspected that Wakan Tanka had come inside to give Debra the reassurance she needed.

With Debra at my side, I practiced the charm again and again, until Wakan Tanka was satisfied that I could shield Debra from the trick the serpent creature had done and keep him out of her private dream-world. She was still quite rattled by what had happened in the nightmare world, but time and attention from Wakan Tanka, Wish List, and me had helped her considerably.

"When this dream walk is over," Wakan Tanka said to me, and I translated, "you must awaken. Your body cannot stay asleep for much longer."

"I'm ...scared," Debra admitted in a meek little voice, clinging tightly to me.

"Wakan Tanka has taught me a spell which will protect you. Only I will be able to dream-walk with you," I assured her. "The serpent-demon won't be able to attack you in your dream-world." She was wary, but she nodded her acceptance.

"If you cast the spell," Wakan Tanka warned me in Lakota, knowing that Debra wouldn't understand, "the separation between your dream-world and Cornflower's will be reduced. It is possible that you will become closer, or even touch."

I looked evenly at Wakan Tanka, then at Debra, and then back at my mentor spirit. "I understand. If I do nothing, she could be attacked again, and injured." I looked once more at Debra, and then I cast the spell. Next, Wakan Tanka had me prepare the herbal healing and calming tea for her. When I finished, she drank, as did I. In moments, she was resting quietly in my arms.

Wakan Tanka rose and left the tepee, leaving Debra and I alone to cuddle, pausing at the entrance to give me a curious and knowing smile.

**********

Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Chicago, IL

We got an early start on our driving; by the original plan, we should have been in Toledo or Cleveland last night; now, we were almost a day behind. With the way Mom drove - stopping frequently to stretch - she had set a goal of Erie, Pennsylvania for the evening. I tried to convince her to push for Albany, which would have put us back on our original schedule, but Mom never liked to spend more than seven or eight hours in a car, and she vetoed the idea. I even argued that the BMW would be so much more comfortable, and thus easier to go a long distance, especially with me helping with the driving. Mom nodded at my logic, and then stubbornly refused to change her mind.

Even though I now had a legitimate MID and the Mr. Eisenbach had cleaned up the MCO records of me, after consulting with the Sioux Falls League, we decided to continue using the anonymous cell phones and code information - just in case. There were a lot of people who were hostile to mutants, in the MCO, in government agencies, in Humanity First!, and in communities. There was no purpose to be served in taking a chance that some agency hadn't tapped our home phone.

Mom had me take over driving at the next rest stop, and almost immediately, a phone rang. I handed it to Mom after switching to the speaker.

"Hello," Mom answered.

"Hi, June." I heard Debra's chipper voice.

"How are you?" Mom asked immediately. "Kayda told me that you had a pretty rough time."

"It would have been worse if she hadn't saved me," Debra replied thankfully, "and then protected me in her dream world."

I smiled to myself. "I'm glad I could help," I replied.

"You're making a habit out of saving me," Debra chuckled. "Thank you, sweetie," she purred. "But how am I going to repay you?" There was a suggestively playful tone in her voice.

I could almost hear Mom's eyebrows rise. "Do you two have anything that you need to tell me?"

The grimace on my face told Mom a lot. "Uh, I don't think so," I said hesitantly.

Debra was nonplussed by Mom's concern. "Kayda," she chided me, "I think you ... we ... need to tell your mother."

I couldn't take my eyes off the road, but I could feel her gaze burning into me. "Uh, I ...."

"Kayda, what's going on?" Mom asked sternly.

"Um," I said, biting my lower lip as I winced, "when I saved Debra," I began nervously, "I had to, uh ... she had to stay in my dream world while she was recovering from the attack. Wakan Tanka and I had to use some powerful magic to, um, heal her."

"And?"

"You know what it means to be close in dream-space," Debra said as if reporting weather. "Kayda and I were ... close."

"Mom," I figured I should just tell Mom the truth before I lost my nerve. "I ... had to cast a protection spell," I confessed, "to protect her from the spirit that attacked us. But ..."

"You didn't tell me there was a 'but'," Debra said, her voice suddenly wary.

"Wakan Tanka told me, before I cast the spell, that if I did, Debra's and my dream worlds would be very close, or even touching, and that would make our connection even more personal," I blurted out.

"What?" both Mom and Debra asked simultaneously.

"You didn't tell me that," Debra said, sounding a little hurt.

"I ... I didn't have a choice," I said, trying to control the quavering in my voice. "If I hadn't used that spell, you'd have been vulnerable to more attacks," I told Debra, feeling my eyes moisten. Damned hormones! "I ... I couldn't let that happen to you."

"So, you ... sacrificed your privacy for her?" Mom asked carefully as she tried to figure out exactly what I meant.

I shook my head as if trying to shake off the tear which had suddenly appeared on my cheek. "No. I ... I wanted to," I confessed. "I ... wanted to be closer to her."

"I see," Mom said. "And I suppose that in your dream world, you two ...."

Neither Debra nor I spoke; I didn't know about Debra, but my cheeks were burning.

Mom sighed. "Well, I guess that when I joked that she's your girlfriend with Dad, I wasn't far from the truth." She sighed again. "Have you two started picking china patterns?"

"Mom!' I protested.

"I figured we'd ask for your help on the china, silver, and crystal, but not the dresses," Debra chuckled. "I'm thinking of a high-bodice dress accentuated with false pearls, and a moderately long train. Maybe sheer sleeves, depending on the time of year. How about you, Kayda?" She couldn't control her giggling.

"Debra!" I added, aghast that she had joining in the teasing.

"Maybe something like your long buckskin dress, but a little longer and in white, with white Lakota beading for accent?" Mom laughed.

"Mom! Stop it!" I knew it was a losing battle to halt the teasing, but I had to try. The two of them were embarrassing the hell out of me.

**********

Lake Erie

The spirits in the water felt something reaching out to them through dream-space. That something had darkness about it, and it stirred the curiosity of the water spirits far more than the darkness repelled them.

"I request your assistance with a ... problem," the serpent creature said in the realm of dark dreams.

The Mishibijiw replied immediately. "What is your problem, and why would the spawn of Unhcegila require our assistance?" The voices sounded condescending that they were speaking to the mere spawn of a demon-serpent.

"_She_ has returned. My father requires that I stop her before she gains too much power."

"Why would that be our concern?" the Mishibijiw asked simply. "She is not our enemy. And why is he sending his spawn?"

"He is currently ... guarded. I do this task for him."

"She is not our enemy," Mishibijiw repeated.

"Not yet," the serpent creature replied angrily. "She will become powerful, and this fourth incarnation, the time of the white buffalo, will restore order and peace. It has been foretold by the Great Spirit. That means that our kind will be hunted and exterminated for opposing peace and order."

"She is not of our Nation," the Mishibijiw replied as one.

"The one she speaks for is of _all_ nations. The one she speaks for will try once more to unite the Nations, and then she will be of the One Nation," the serpent-creature answered. "You remember how she tried before. She had all the shamans and heroes of all the Nations gathered, and if not for the attack that destroyed the other ancient races, she would have succeeded. She nearly defeated all of us then, and she will try again."

"Your reasoning is sound, and your concerns are valid. How may we help?"

"She is near you. She travels toward the sunrise, toward the origin of my father. While she is near, you should have an opportunity to destroy her."

"Tell us where she is, and it will be done."

"I will touch the mind of one of you, so that you will know how to find _her_."

**********

Near Lake Erie, on Interstate 90

After lunch, we continued to drive, alternating between Mom and me, with Mom's requisite frequent breaks. When Mom had been driving, I spent time in dream-space with Debra, Wakan Tanka and Tatanka, and whenever I drove, she read a novel she'd purchased in Sioux Falls for the trip. Mom was driving for a bit while I rested, so I went to dream-space.

Tatanka and I walked and looked for more animal spirits; I learned more about igmu taka, the cougar, who had the traits of power, swiftness, balance, planning, patience, and cunning. I knew that Tatanka was not-so-subtly reminding me that I needed to practice being patient, like igmu taka.

When she'd managed to pry me free of Tatanka's quite verbose lesson on patience, Wakan Tanka started to talk about how our magic could be used to defend us. I asked about using it to attack an enemy, and she became rather agitated, almost angrily reminding me that the People attacked only when necessary, and not as a first means of solving a problem. I had to learn how to defend and deflect attacks upon me. Only when I was schooled in that, and when she knew that I understood the lessons Tatanka was teaching me about pahi, the porcupine, who used his powers solely to defend himself, would I be ready to learn any attack spells.

I was a little disappointed, even though I understood her point. As Grandmother Little Doe had taught, the white man's history told that the People were savage and ruthless, always attacking, whereas the truth was that the desire of the People was peace, but they would aggressively defend themselves if required, and that some of the rituals of passage and hunting did seem a little unorthodox to the invading white men. I could tell that her lessons matched the philosophy that Wakan Tanka was trying to instill in me.

Wakan Tanka had given me tools to attack only when there was no other choice. Her spell had been focusing on healing and defense, and I could tell that she was concerned that I was thinking of offensive, attack magic.

I snapped out of dream space when I felt the car decelerating, and quickly realized that we were at another bathroom / stretch break.

"This is a good time to practice your ghost-walking in the real world, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said with delight.

"But ... I don't know that spell yet."

"Don't be silly, Wihakayda. We've gone over the spell several times. I know you have a good memory. Now all you need to do is warn your mother, and then practice the spell."

"Okay," I said hesitantly.

"No-one will notice you as you walk to the bathroom, and back."

I cleared my throat as Mom was pulling into a parking spot. "Mom, Wakan Tanka wants me to practice a ghost-walking spell."

"What's that?" Mom asked. Her voice conveyed clearly her concern that I was learning magic that she didn't understand.

"I won't be noticed by anyone while I have the spell. I won't have to worry about something like yesterday," I added nervously.

"Okay. What should I expect?"

"I'll kind of be invisible."

"Kind. Of. Invisible?" Mom's jaw dropped.

"Touch your mother after you cast the spell, and she'll be able to see you."

"Wakan Tanka says that once I cast the spell, if I touch you, you'll be able to see me."

Mom looked a little alarmed, but she shrugged. "Okay, I guess. If your spirit wants you to." She remembered how rattled I'd been from the unwanted attention the day before.

"This might not work, because I've never cast this spell before," I cautioned Mom. I did the chant that Wakan Tanka had taught me, and...

Mom's eyes popped wide open, and she stared at where I was, but clearly without seeing me. "Kayda?" she asked, more than a little alarmed.

I could see a faint silver glow around every other person, including Mom. When I saw how panicked she was, I reached out and touched her hand. Instantly, her silver aura vanished, and she sighed with relief. "Did it work?" I asked, pretty certain of the answer.

"For a moment, I couldn't see you, but now I can. You look kind of strange, like you're partially transparent," Mom said in awe.

I grinned. This could be really cool. "Let's see if this works like Wakan Tanka told me. How about if I walk a few steps ahead of you, and you watch to see if anyone notices me."

Mom nodded. "That sounds like a plan."

Mom and I got out of the car; I noticed an older man staring slack-jawed at my side of the car, and I had to suppress a giggle. If I really was invisible, then he saw a car door open, pause, and close itself with nobody near it. This spell could be a lot of fun.

After I'd used the restroom in the convenience store, I felt an urge to stay outside for a bit, because I'd been cooped up in a car for an extended period of time. I'd noticed the same thing at home before the second attack, and at the League headquarters. I used to be able to stay inside for days, occupying myself with reading, math, and other distractions, now it was much harder. It was almost like staying indoors for too long was very uncomfortable to my spirits that were used to the outdoor world.

Having this break, I took advantage of the short time to just stand outside enjoying the autumn day, even if it was only for a short time. We were close to Lake Erie, and I could feel the water spirit, but there was also something else that seemed peculiar. It was a bit like some animal spirits, but quite different. Curious, I cast the dream-walking spell and took a couple of steps into the large, lightly wooded lot next to the parking lot, toward the area I felt one of the odd spirits.

The situation felt wrong. The animal spirit that I sensed was very unusual, like a hybrid, and it seemed to be partly masked - and sinister. I looked around nervously.

Tatanka manifested without warning, catching me by surprise, and an instant later, he was knocked to one side by some powerful force, causing me to wince as pain shot through my body. I was learning, to my dismay, that I felt his injuries, only not quite as much as he did.

I gasped and froze a moment when I saw the creature which had struck Tatanka. It was a strange hybrid of a dark cougar and a dragon, with buffalo horns from the side of its head. The body was that of a large cat, with coal-black legs and head, while spines ran down its back to the large serpentine tail covered with scales and copper-tipped spikes. I felt some intelligence as I gazed into its malevolent stare, but there was something else that felt disturbing.

With feline grace, its clawed forelimbs outstretched toward me, the creature leaped over Tatanka, who was crumpled on the ground. I dodged to my right, and felt something rake my leg painfully. I summoned the shield spell to add to the ghost-walking spell, and moments later, the serpentine tail smashed at me, battering the just-created shield. I had a horrid thought that if not for my quick action incanting the spell, the spikes on the tail would have seriously hurt or even killed me. As it was, part of the massive blow against my shield was transmitted to me, dashing me about again.

Behind the creature, Tatanka rose to his feet, and after shaking his head to clear it, he charged at the creature, goring it with his horn as he roughly knocked it aside. His charge saved me from another battering, giving me time to draw my knife and infuse some magic into it. It came at a cost, however, to both Tatanka and me, because the fierce-looking tail spikes tore into Tatanka's flank, and I felt the pain ripping into my legs, staggering me and making me almost lose my grip on my knife. I regained my balance just in time to get clobbered with the tail swinging back from hitting Tatanka; fortunately for me, it had little distance to get much momentum, and the fierce-looking tail spikes were pointed the wrong way. I was knocked several yards, bouncing off a tree. I was starting to really hate snake tails.

Tatanka was back on his feet, and was warily circling the creature, which was trying to keep a watch on both me and him. This had all the makings of a standoff. Screw that! I didn't have time or patience for this kind of nonsense. I faked a lunge toward the creature, and it reacted by slashing with those nasty claws toward where I would have been had I followed through. Instead, I drew immediately back and to my left, just out of range of the vicious claws, and then leaped in behind the claws and slashed at its leg with my knife, rolling under the creature's snapping jaw. I was feeling pretty grateful that my reflexes had been enhanced, even if only a bit, by my mutation.

While I was attacking from the front, Tatanka gored its rear leg. The combination of injuries caused the creature to roar out like a lion, and then to limp back in retreat from Tatanka and me until it could watch both of us at the same time.

"Mishibijiw should not be attacking us. We have no quarrel with his kind."

"What is it?" I asked Wakan Tanka nervously.

"Mishibijiw is the Underwater Panther. They are not our enemy."

The angry underwater panther glared at Tatanka and me, limping back from us.

"Why are you attacking us, Mishibijiw?" we demanded. I hadn't even noticed that we were manifesting as Ptesanwi.

"We will not be banished by you, witch!" the beast snarled, surprising me that not only did it speak, but that I understood it.

"You were never our enemy before." We could feel some foul darkness clouding Mishibijiw's mind. "What has corrupted your thoughts?"

"That was before the coming age of the White Buffalo, the time of peace and prosperity for the People. We _know_ what you want. You claim that we aren't enemies," the underwater panther snarled, "but you _will_ come to banish us from this world, just as you will banish all spirits that don't bow down and serve you." Its ranting speech sounded quite angry, and in my estimation, quite insane. "We shall never serve you!" The cat snarled and leaped, swinging its powerful tail at Tatanka, and clawing at me.

Tatanka's reaction was immediate; he wasn't taken unaware as I was. Moving more nimbly than I thought he could, Tatanka leaped over the swinging spiked tail and then, lowering his head and sweeping it sharply to one side, he gored Mishibijiw again, this time more deeply.

Despite my best effort at evading the attack, I was raked once more by the razor claws, pain exploding in my arm as my flesh was rent. I rolled, trying to minimize the blow, and found myself under the face of Mishibijiw, staring up into his panther-like mouth with its plentiful sharp teeth, a mouth that was going to snap down on me, tearing me apart.

Somehow, the knife stayed in my hand, as if attached. In an act of pure desperation, I pushed all my magic into the knife as I thrust the blade upward. There was a bit of resistance as the blade encountered Mishibijiw's body, and then it sank to the hilt. I could feel magic pouring out of the knife into the underwater panther's body. Its snarl of pain and frustration gurgled in its throat as my knife pierced its heart and tore its lungs asunder.

Pain radiated through my ribs as Tatanka pushed Mishibijiw off me, using his massive head and horns like a giant broom, and then, satisfied that the underwater panther was dead, Tatanka demanifested. The world spun once or twice, and then it went black.

"Drink this, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka urged, holding me up with one hand and offering me a cup with the other. "You must heal quickly before another comes."

I sipped the potion, and then drank greedily. "What happened?" I asked, confused.

"I don't know, Wihakayda. Mishibijiw was never our enemy. He should not have attacked. As he fought, I sensed something in his mind, a demon's touch that may have driven him insane. His spirit was corrupted." She looked at me. "You must heal yourself more. Your mother will worry if you don't, and you will not be strong enough to travel."

"I ... I used all my magic fighting off Mishibijiw," I countered.

"And the drink I have given you has returned some of your magic, since you are resting in dream-space."

I sensed Tatanka shambling to the fire circle. "You saved me," I said, smiling at him.

"I serve Ptesanwi," he answered simply. "There was nothing else I could do."

I thought a moment. "I'm curious. Whenever you are injured, I feel it. When you return to the dream-world, I feel more pain and fatigue."

"This is true, Wihakayda," Tatanka answered. "Because we are joined, injury to me is injury to you, and a wound to you is a wound to me."

"That kinda sucks," I grumbled. "I get you as an assistant, but if one of us gets hurt, it affects both of us."

"That is the way it is," Tatanka said philosophically.

"Wihakayda, cast your healing spell," Wakan Tanka directed. "Then take the copper spikes from Mishibijiw. They are wakan, sacred and magic, and can be made into tokens to help you. You will need every such tool you can get."

I cast the spell as Wakan Tanka directed, and I felt much of my pain leave me. I glanced down, and could barely see where the underwater panther's claws had savaged me.

With pain still radiating through my arms and chest, I sank to my knees beside the corpse of the unnatural creature and began breaking off the copper spikes on Mishibijiw's tail. The task was difficult, and I had to use my knife to cut through skin and bone at the base of each, but I retrieved them as Wakan Tanka had directed. They were too big for my medicine pouch, so I'd have to put them in my luggage. Each of the half-dozen points was the size of a railroad spike, and sharp; I could feel magic radiating from each as I held it momentarily. Once I had all the spikes, I glanced at myself; my clothes were tattered and bloody from the attack which had taken, remarkably, less than a minute. While I was fighting, it seemed that it had taken much longer. Knowing that Mom would have a fit, I strode purposefully to the car, opened the trunk, and got out a different outfit.

"Kayda!" Mom gasped, surprising me. I hadn't even closed my suitcase. "What happened?"

"A water spirit attacked me," I answered simply and unemotionally; the shock of the attack and my having to kill something hadn't worn off. And the healing tea had me calmed. "Tatanka and I had to kill it."

Mom's eyes were round as saucers. "I'm ... worried about you," she said. "This whole Ptesanwi thing is getting too dangerous for you."

"No kidding!" I said with a forced chuckle. I suddenly realized that this could be to my advantage. "Everyone said that Whateley is protected so these kinds of spirits and creatures can't harm me. It sounds like a reason to get me there as soon as possible."

Mom ignored my not-so-subtle plea and instead hugged me tightly, scared that I was in over my head. "I guess you're right," she admitted softly. "I ... I don't like how you're suddenly getting attacked like this, and in your dreams. I ... suppose it comes with your spirit, but I can't help worrying about you."

I let her hold tightly to me, because both of us needed comforting. Mom probably felt the way I'd felt when Debra had been psychically attacked now and earlier when the guys back home had tried to kill me. And when she learned about the fight in the dream-world. Maybe I was learning something about my parents that I'd never considered. Maybe I was growing up a little.

With Mom at my side - all the powers in heaven and on earth couldn't have made her let me go alone - I went back to the restroom, and ignoring the stares of girls and women at my tattered, bloody clothing, I changed in a stall, simply tossing the torn and stained remains of my old clothes into a trash can.

"Do you feel like can drive, or do you need to rest?" Mom asked when we got back to the car.

I sighed as I opened the passenger door and sank into the seat; I loved driving, probably more than Mom knew, but at that moment, all I wanted to do was to get my emotions under control from the attack. "I know you wanted me to drive, but I'm pretty tired." I closed my eyes and rested a bit.

"What is this water panther that I had to fight?" I asked Wakan Tanka and Tatanka as we sat by the fire. It was evening in my dream-world, and the fire radiated warmth that penetrated into my aching body, soothing the pain of the fight.

"To some Nations, Mishibijiw are considered evil monsters of deep water, responsible for drowning men and women. To others, they are neutral, causing neither good nor harm, but instead guarding the secrets and treasures of the deep." She shook her head. "In ages past, when we have dealt with Mishibijiw, they were always fair."

"So what happened now?"

"I fear that something touched his mind and drove him insane," Wakan Tanka said ominously. "Something powerful doesn't want us around."

"My ghost-walking spell did nothing. He could see me."

"He is a powerful spirit, and I haven't taught you the more complex spells that would hide you from the spirit world as well," Wakan Tanka sounded annoyed with herself and apologetic to me. "We shall have to work harder on your lessons." She sat back and drew a deep breath. "For now, though, Wihakayda, you should rest."

My battle with the underwater panther changed Mom's mind about how long we should drive, and we pressed on further than she was comfortable with. After a stop for dinner, I was rested enough, both physically and mentally, that I switched driving with Mom and drove until we finally stopped at a small city in the middle of New York State. After we checked in, while Mom went to the bathroom to clean up, I immediately called Debra. Mom called Dad, but that didn't stop her from rolling her eyes at me periodically, which made me chuckle aloud.

Debra and I stayed on the phone for over an hour, during which time I slipped into the bathroom, put on the lacy teddy and panty set she'd gotten for me, and then I described what I was wearing. I know she was trying to visualize that, because she was quite distracted, so I promised to take a selfie and send it to her. Mom overheard that, and she got a very serious frown, which gave me cause to believe that I was in trouble. Eventually, after telling Debra that I wanted to try something with our dream-walk, I hung up.

"You can't send Debra a picture of you in that!" Mom said with a scowl. "It's ... indecent."

"How about if I pose, and you take a picture that you don't think is indecent, then?" I challenged Mom. From her expression, I saw that she was boxed in by my reasoning, and she knew it.

In the picture, I was lying on my front, with my back arched and my shoulders raised, as I rested on my elbows. I had a come-hither look on my face, and my lower legs were bent at the knees toward my butt, with my ankles crossed, just like in the picture on the poster. Mom couldn't object; from that angle, I looked sexy, or so I was convinced, but there was nothing indecent. I sent the picture, which got an immediate and enthusiastic reply from Debra.

Mom just shook her head. "Debra was right. You're a natural. You _should_ try out for that modeling club she was talking about. And if it's a school-sponsored club, they won't let you model anything indecent- I hope," she muttered under her breath, but loudly enough that I heard.

I wasn't too sure, because of what I'd learned of exemplars and what I saw with Debra, Vanity Girl, Wish List, and Card Trick. All of them were exemplars, and all of them were beyond just gorgeous. I didn't know how in the world I could compete in the looks department with them, even though all of them, and Mom, had been repeatedly telling me that I was extremely attractive. There had been girls in my class who didn't have much self-confidence, and it affected how they presented themselves, and thus how people perceived them; it seemed that I was suffering from the same malady. I was very self-aware about my changed body, and I knew that I didn't think like a girl. Or maybe I was thinking too much like an insecure girl, because I was so new at it.

I called Dad, too, since I hadn't talked to him that day. As we talked, I started wondering if I would be able to dream-walk with him, and if he'd let me. Mom must have realized that something was on my mind, because she took the phone and told Dad to hold a bit.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

"I ... I want to dream-walk with Dad, but I don't know if I should ask him."

Mom looked a bit teary, and hugged me. "I think that would be wonderful for both of you," she said. She handed me back the phone.

"Dad," I said, "I want to ask you if I can do something with you?"

"What is it, sweetie?" He had a bit of dad-suspicion in his voice, not knowing what I might be asking him, but trying to sound supportive of the fact that I was a teenager.

"I ... I learned how to dream-walk, which means that I can be a part of someone's dreams, and interact with them."

"Okay," Dad said slowly, not sure where I was going with the conversation.

"I wanted to know if you'd ... let me dream-walk with you, because I miss you."

"That ... that would be ... nice." Dad sounded choked up.

I was eager to get to bed that night; I was going to dream-walk with Debra, and try to replay one of our 'picnic' dreams together, and I was going to try to dream-walk with Dad. Of course, Mom had to comment that she hadn't seen me this eager to get to bed early since I was four. She knew that I was frequently dream-walking with Debra, but she kept her mouth shut. And she knew that I was eager to try dream-walking with Dad.

I walked into an older high school building, where the boys were standing around discussing sports and girls, waiting for the morning bell. A few boys were talking one-on-one with girls - probably their girlfriends. I saw one boy in particular who looked very familiar, and instantly I recognized Dad. He was a handsome young man, as good-looking as any of the boys there, and I realized that, in the years since he'd been a teenager, he still was a good-looking man. I understood why Mom had found him attractive. When I walked toward him, I was aware that every eye was tracking me; the guys were looking at me like I was Miss America, and the girls' eyes were shooting daggers because they thought that I was better looking than they were, and thus a threat to their status.

To the amazement of all the guys and girls, I walked boldly up to Dad and gave him a warm hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Why are you here?" I asked him.

"This is where I first met your mom," he said with a smile. "This is the day I asked her to our senior prom, and she accepted."

I was going to miss prom, I realized sadly. Since she was a junior, Julie had already made plans to ask me. Now, I'd only get to see prom through Dad's and Mom's eyes.

I smiled at Dad, despite my inner sadness. "There she is. You'd better go ask her."

He smiled at me, and the surroundings changed, to a hospital room. We wore surgical scrubs, and were in a room with Mom, who was lying back on bed, her face sweaty, as she fought a major contraction by tightly grasping Dad's hand. I watched in awe, holding Dad's other hand, as Mom delivered a tiny, fragile baby boy. Dad and Mom both looked at the baby with beaming eyes, and then Dad turned to me. "You're not quite what I expected on the day you were born."

His words stung, and I felt my eyes watering. "I'm sorry I disappointed ...."

He didn't let me finish, but swept me into a bear hug as he instantly regretted his unfortunate choice of words. "No, honey," he said quickly, clutching me tightly to his chest. "I'm not disappointed. I love you, whether you're my son or my daughter. Don't you _ever_ think that I'm disappointed in you!" He held me tight, reassuring me until my tears were gone.

"Where do _you_ dream?" he asked me after I had calmed. "Is there a special place?"

I smiled, and instantly we were in _my_ dream space, on a hill overlooking a river valley and a small Indian village. "Here is where Wakan Tanka lives," I said with a smile. It was night, and the sky was crystal clear and studded with sparkling little gemstones. The moon was nearly full, casting its silver light over the valley, bright enough to see the tepees and trees and river clearly.

"Will you introduce me to her?" Dad asked.

"And more." We walked to the camp, with his arm around my shoulder. As expected, Wakan Tanka and Tatanka were seated at the fire. What shocked me was that someone else was seated at the fire - in her nightwear. My heart leaped into my throat.

Dad strode to Wakan Tanka, who rose to greet him. She spoke a few words of Lakota. I scampered to his side to translate, but was beaten by Tatanka. "Greetings, father of Wihakayda. You honor us with your presence."

Dad's eyes bugged out when Tatanka spoke, but then he grinned at me. "Your mother said that you had a talking buffalo. I guess I didn't quite believe her." His eyes, though weren't on Tatanka or Wakan Tanka, but on the girl sitting on the log in a nightie that was only barely decent.

Cornflower rose gracefully and sauntered sexily to my side. I was wincing inwardly; Dad was going to have a cow that _she_ was in my dream-space, too, especially dressed as she was. She walked up beside me and boldly put an arm around my waist, pulling me against her. I was torn between anxiety at how Dad was going to react, and pride in my dream girl.

"And you are ...?" Dad asked nervously.

Without batting an eye, Debra replied, "I'm Debra, also known as Cornflower," she said with a smile. "And to answer your next question, yes, I'm Kayda's girlfriend - at least in our dreams."

I was aghast, expecting some kind of explosion from Dad, while in the background, Tatanka and Wakan Tanka chuckled at my plight. I spun toward the giggling buffalo. "Knock it off! This is awkward enough without you laughing like a hyena!"

Dad chuckled as well. "It _is_ pretty funny," he said through laughter. "At least from my perspective." He extended his hand to Debra. "I've heard a lot about you. And those pictures don't do you justice," he added with a wink.

That broke the ice - sort of. We all sat around the fire, while Dad regaled Debra with embarrassing stories of when I was a tyke. I sat there helpless, unable to deflect the conversation, and feeling outnumbered as Tatanka translated so Wakan Tanka could join in the amusement.

We talked much, and Dad spent a lot of time asking questions of Debra. I felt like a girl who had to introduce a date to an inquisition by a protective father, and then sit nervously and helplessly through the interrogation.

After a bit, Debra yawned sleepily, and then excused herself to go rest. She gave me a kiss on the lips, adding to my embarrassment, and then, with an alluring sway to her hips, she sashayed into one of the tepees.

Dad looked at me and grinned. "I suppose at this point I'm kind of a third wheel, aren't I?" he asked. He had noticed that Wakan Tanka was entering her own tepee, and Tatanka was quietly ambling off into the prairie.

My cheeks were burning at what Dad was implying. "Uh, we can talk some more."

Dad smiled and kissed me on the cheek. "No, you need your private dream-time. Thank you for sharing your dream-world with me, and for introducing me to Debra. She's a sweet girl." He sighed. "I just ...."

I kissed his cheek. "I know. You're like Mom. You're worried about me getting hurt."

"I guess I'm pretty transparent, aren't I?" He gave me a big hug, and then he rose and followed Tatanka out of the fire ring, pausing a moment between two tepees. "Can you visit me in my dreams again?"

"As long as you promise to not embarrass me again," I teased.

Dad smiled. "I'm a parent, so I can't make that kind of promise. But I'll try to behave." With that, he turned and departed, leaving me alone in the fire circle. I watched the direction Dad had gone for a bit, and then I smiled and went into the tepee where Debra waited.

**********

Rosebud Indian Reservation, South Dakota

Dan Bear Claws dialed a number and held the receiver to his ear. Eventually, the phone was answered.

"Hello," the person on the other end of the answered.

"I have something I need you to do."

"Who is this?" the voice snapped.

"I am Dan Mato Sake, a wicasa yata pi of the Lakota."

"What do you need?"

"There is someone special coming to a place called Whateley Academy. I want her to not stay, but to come home to her people."

"I see. Run her out and chase her home? I know the school. I have a contact ...."

"I want no details," Dan Bear Claws said gruffly. "She is a very important young girl of fifteen. She should arrive at the academy on Thursday or Friday." He listed some details that he knew about the girl.

"Interesting. The best approach would be a psychic ...."

"No details!" Dan snapped. "Just do it." He slammed down the phone, and then smiled, knowing that the girl would be coming home, and much sooner than anyone expected. He had much to do to prepare for her arrival.

**********

Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Olean, New York

The low-hanging, grey clouds that greeted us when we walked out to the car didn't bode well for the day. I'd been too busy the night before talking to Debra, and then hastening to sleep so I could dream-walk with them both, but Mom had taken time to watch the weather. We had over five hundred fifty miles to drive, many of them on older highways, through mountains, and now in inclement weather.

Tractor had called earlier, and when he discovered that I had been remiss in reading my history, he gave me a minor scolding. Because of that, and because of my curiosity, when I wasn't driving, I spent time reading more Greek history. I know I should have been well into the Greek Dark Ages if I'd been reading steadily, but with everything that had been happening, I was only in the middle of the late Helladic and late Minoan periods, which happened after the Cycladic civilizations had converged with the Minoans during the Middle Minoan period.

After a while, I took over driving from Mom, and she was resting instead of reading. Naturally, we hit the first of the sleet almost as soon as I took over, a dreary, grey, drizzly sort of miserable icy rain that made driving tedious, tiresome, and quite dangerous. Even though I'd grown up in snow and ice, and had driven in it since I started driving, I wasn't comfortable, and as the miles wore on, the tension in my shoulders increased steadily. After half an hour or so, the sleet turned to snow.

From what I'd read about Whateley, and from what Cornflower had taught me, I really needed to learn more magic and how to have Tatanka help me, because I got the impression that a normal day at Whateley was rougher than freshman hazing had been in football - a lot rougher. On the other hand, could it be as hard as fighting off a serpent creature or a water panther? I hoped I'd be able to just blend in, but I really was getting worried. I needed any and all time I could get to learn magic from Wakan Tanka, and I wanted time to work on math and read more history.

I wanted to push hard in driving, skimping on breaks, but Mom didn't feel the urgent need to get to Whateley as soon as possible and at any cost, especially given the weather; she was arguing with logic and facts. When I continued to argue, she threated to call Dad. When that didn't stop my arguments, Mom upped the threat level to a call to Debra, and I folded like a tent. She knew how to blackmail her children!

We stopped at a Denny's restaurant, which was a good compromise. Mom could tell I was getting antsy as we sat and ate; I wasn't very hungry because of my anxiety about getting to Whateley, and she had to remind me to eat. I was getting upset that she was treating this trip like a leisurely stroll instead of a time-crunch to get me to a school where I was _already_ late!

"You know we aren't going to make it today," Mom dropped the bombshell that I knew was coming.

"But ...." I started to protest.

"I've been watching. You don't have the driving endurance and tolerance you used to have. It's raining and snowing, we won't be on interstates, and we're already behind." She looked square in my eyes. "You know I'm right, don't you?"

I nodded slowly, even if the truth wasn't what I wanted to hear at that point. "Why am I going at all?" I whined, fighting tears. "I know I'll never fit in ...."

"Kayda, stop it!" Mom snapped at me. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself for a minute, and think about how you'll have a far better chance of fitting in there than at home! It's not likely that every other student is going to want to kill you, are they?"

"No," I admitted meekly. "But socially ...."

Mom nodded. "It's going to be a little difficult, but answer me this: would you rather be beaten to death, or have a little bit of inconvenience in your social life?"

I hung my head, ashamed of how I had been acting. "Not being beaten to death every time I tried to leave home." Admitting that Mom had a point came very hard; the words almost stuck in my throat. I knew that it was doing to be tough being the 'new kid', but that was far better than being deceased at the hands of a mob of former friends and classmates. Or was it? My mind still bore the scars from that brutal year and a half after Dad sold his first farm and we moved about a hundred miles so he could take over his father-in-law's farm that Mom had inherited. Was it really any better? I was left with a choice between two bad options, and I had to select the least-bad option, just like Debra had told me. "Maybe we should have tried home-schooling," I suggested softly, trying desperately to find a third path that didn't include either of the negatives of the first two.

"You're terrified of being the new kid, and of not fitting in, aren't you?" Mom asked, having suddenly realized just how much that thought bothered me.

"Do you remember when we moved when I was little?"

"Yes. Why?" Mom had a bewildered look at my question.

My voice choked, and my cheeks were moist as I told Mom all about what had happened after we'd moved. Since it was a small town, there weren't many new kids, so I was the bullies' victim for a long time. It had been a very painful time, and even recollecting it hurt emotionally.

"Oh, my God, sweetie! How come you never told us?" Mom said, aghast at what she was hearing for the first time.

"Because some older, meaner kids told me that if you talked to the principal or teachers, they were going to beat me up until I was crippled." Tears were falling off my cheeks and I didn't even try to stop them. "And I knew that if you understood how much I was hurting, you _would_ have talked to the school, and then it would have only gotten worse."

Mom started to deny that they'd have done something, but she caught herself, because she knew that she and Dad _would_ have tried to help me out by complaining. That ended the conversation for a while. Mom really didn't know how to respond about my current situation, either, because from what she'd read in the brochure and what we'd learned from the Sioux Falls League, she knew that there were a lot of formal and informal cliques and clubs, and that my fears had at least some basis in fact, and my previous experience amplified those fears. She was young enough that she remembered her own high school days, and the way cliques and friendships could be very exclusive, and newcomers faced an uphill battle fitting in. She also knew that, for me, this might be like reliving the worst year and a half of my life, which had emotionally scarred me far more than even I'd admitted, an experience that she and Dad had never known.

We just drove through the whitish-grey cloud of swirling snowflakes, the weather outside a perfect metaphor for how I felt inside. It was six in the afternoon when we got to the Vermont - New Hampshire border and got back on an interstate; the road from Albany to the border had been two-lane, winding and hilly through wooded countryside, and there were a lot of side roads and driveways, with traffic joining or leaving the road and causing significant slowdown in spots. According to the GPS, we had just over three hours to get to Berlin, NH - if the roads were perfect, the weather was perfect, and there was no traffic - and then it was a short drive from Dunwich and Whateley. Unfortunately, there _was_ traffic - lots of it, and the weather decided to get crappy on us, with the light flurries turning into a steady, heavier snowfall, which in turn slowed our progress into what seemed to be an agonizing crawl that, at times, felt almost like we were moving backwards.

Mom surprised me by getting fast-food in a little town instead of a sit-down meal, and then we drove north on interstate 91. She was driving, and I fully expected to stop for the day after about an hour, but Mom just kept driving through the snowstorm. We finally stopped at a little town at the junction of interstates 91 and 93 for a rest break, and then Mom asked me to drive. When we drove another hour and hadn't stopped, I gave Mom a worrying glance, but she was peacefully reading her book and didn't seem to notice.

It was almost ten-thirty when we pulled into Berlin, New Hampshire, and into a motel. I hadn't noticed, but Mom must have used her cell phone to make a reservation on-line while I was driving, so we were very quickly checked in, and moved our suitcases to our room.

As I crawled into bed, Mom gave me a kiss on the forehead and tucked me in, and the look on her face told me everything. She understood how important social life was to me after finally realizing the hell I'd gone through when we'd moved so many years ago. Fatigue showed on her face, but she kept a smile - for me - and soldiered on, sacrificing her comfort to help me. I cried as I hugged her good-night, thankful beyond what words could express, even though I tried.

**********

Thursday, March 15, 2007
Berlin, New Hampshire

We had a leisurely continental breakfast, checked out, made a stop in a department store to get some school and dorm supplies like sheets and towels and toiletries, and then began our short drive to Dunwich, and from there to Whateley Academy. The snowfall had ended sometime during the night, and the sky was a light shade of grey. It would have been more scenic if the sky was blue and sunny, but driving would have been treacherous due to both the fresh snowfall and blinding glare from the white lands.

Mom was driving, and she was taking her time, and using that time to have a brief 'mother-daughter' talk about high-school life. I was quite embarrassed, and even pointed out that I'd gotten most of the information from Wish List and Cornflower, but Mom told me that it was her duty as a mother to have 'the talk' with me. I hadn't realized, but Mom had been two-months pregnant with me when she graduated, and Dad's proposal had been preceded by the question of, "You're going to have a WHAT?" She knew how hormones affected teenagers, and, without saying as much, was hoping that I'd get the message that, if I was going to have sex, that I needed to be very careful so I didn't end up a teenage mother as well. In her case, she pointed out, things had worked out marvelously, but she'd beaten the odds. I understood her message, even though the discussion was, at times, a little embarrassing.

The entrance to Whateley seemed odd - it was protected by a stone fence, and flanking the driveway were two creepy gargoyles without faces We drove through the gate to a security check point, where two men in uniforms verified that we were expected and called ahead to let the administration know we were on campus. The road, lined with snow-capped trees, was quite an improvement after the rougher, bumpier, but picturesque roads we'd been on between Berlin and Whateley. The drive was rather long, and wove in and out, up and down the white-frosted hills and some wooded areas, before buildings came into view on top of a small hill. At first glance, it looked to me more like a college campus than a boarding high school. We passed an eclectic mixture of buildings, from a barrel-shaped multi-story building that was quite traditional in style, to a brutish, concrete monster opposite it. Adjacent to the hulking concrete behemoth stood a stately, tall building with what looked like an observatory attached to it, probably Kane hall from what I'd read in the brochures.

Our destination lay straight ahead; a statue stood in the center of a roundabout in front of another older, traditional-styled building, with a sign out front proclaiming it to be "Schuster Hall". More bizarrely, a huge crystalline geodesic dome was attached to the rear of the building; Debra had told us that this was aptly named Crystal Hall, the main dining hall. On three low hills near Schuster Hall, separated from the main buildings by swales, were three of the cottages; I was a little excited to look for the one I would live in, namely, Poe. To the northwest and northeast were two four-story buildings whose architectural style matched Schuster and Kane, and I would bet that these were Emerson and Dickinson cottages, based on what I'd remembered from the brochure. Betting on my guess would have been a sucker bet though; since my manifestation, my memory was nearly perfect.

On a hill to the south was a tall building, at least eight stories, in an architectural style that was much more modern and didn't at all fit in with the older, more traditional buildings. This had to be Melville, the home of the snobs and social climbers. Beyond it, somewhere down hidden behind the hill, was Poe, which would be my home-away-from-home for the next three years, and beyond that was Hawthorne. I didn't want to think about what would happen after my graduation; it was too far away and too depressing to contemplate. I had to deal with the here-and-now, which meant Poe Cottage. The campus grounds were all covered in a thick white blanket of snow, obscuring the landscaping, and with bare deciduous trees scattered among evergreens, it looked almost barren. I hoped that without snow, it was well-kept, because living in a campus with shoddy landscaping was not my idea of fun. Brick walkways connected the buildings across vast fields of snow, hiding what I hoped was grass beneath the winter insulation. The overall appearance would have been extremely stately, if only all the buildings shared a common architectural theme, but the hodge-podge mixture of styles looked rather haphazard and disorganized, as if some giant had plucked a building here, a building there, and plopped them down willy-nilly across the hills, not caring what the result looked like. The only other explanation was that the campus had been a field laboratory for would-be architects to experiment with different styles without any consideration for harmony. It was not aesthetically pleasing at all.

"There are very dark forces near here, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka and Tatanka told me simultaneously. "Very dark forces indeed."

"It is as if there are dozens of gods like Unktunktahe and Unhcegila at rest here, waiting for their chance to awaken or to be set free of their bonds," Wakan Tanka continued.

I felt a lump in my throat at their revelations. "What does that mean for me?"

"This is a dangerous place. Much dark magic is concentrated here. You must be careful, Wihakayda," she said solemnly.

Great. As if getting beaten and nearly killed, fleeing the MCO, driving halfway across the country, fighting a serpent-demon in a nightmare, and a water-demon in real-life, and losing everything weren't enough, now I had to watch out for Native American spooks.

Mom parked the car near the statue that had to be the founder, Noah Whateley, based on the information Debra had given me. Beside the unimposing bronze figure was a flagpole, on which hung the US flag, and below it, a flag bearing the Whateley coat-of-arms. I would have never noticed but for Debra's information; the border of the Whateley flag was red, indicating to students that it was what was called a 'red flag' day, and students were not allowed to display their powers. I chuckled; the flag was very likely because of Mom and me being on campus, or more specifically, because of Mom. I was a mutant, after all, and presumably I could handle seeing other kid's powers on display.

As we walked toward the entrance to Schuster, I spotted a boy flying rapidly up the path from beyond Melville hall toward the observatory building. Suddenly, he spotted the flag, and in an even more conspicuous display, halted in mid-air, dropped to the ground, and continued to walk while glancing around to see if anyone had noticed his indiscretion. I chuckled at his predicament; a couple of other students were converging on him, and they didn't look too happy. He probably hadn't checked the flag color before going 'superman'.

Inside, we paused to orient ourselves, looking for some type of signs. A student in a standard black and white Whateley uniform stopped and looked at us, critically noting that I was of high-school age, but wasn't wearing a uniform. "Do you need assistance?" she asked with a smug air of superiority that seemed to defy any attempt to not act like she was better than I. There was something unusual about her eyes, not quite human, but ice-blue and almond shaped, tilted inward slightly. I guessed that she was the same height as me, but where I was wearing flats, she had at least a two-and-a-half inch heel, which put her height nearer five feet three. The most impressive thing, though, were the tips of obvious elfish ears jutting out of her thick shoulder-length, coiffured mane of blonde hair. She carried herself with an air of confidence, or even smugness that was a little off-putting.

"We're looking for the Headmistress' office," Mom said quickly. "We need to get my daughter Kayda, checked in."

The girl looked at me like she was measuring me - carefully. "New student?" I merely nodded, deciding that I didn't like her attitude and condescending smirk. "Welcome to Whateley. I'm called Sanctuary," she said with a bit less of an attitude. "The office is down the hall, last set of offices on the left," she said, as if the answer was obvious. She pointed in the general direction as well, before lowering her hand and striding off with her nose lifted slightly, snobbishly.

"Thank you," Mom said graciously, and she elbowed me sharply when I said nothing.

"Yeah, thanks," I added unenthusiastically at the retreating figure.

The girl paused and glanced over her shoulder. "You might not be thanking me after a couple of weeks," the girl said with a smirk before she turned and strutted away.

Beyond a door with frosted glass, many staff members sat at desks arranged in neat rows in one large office space, sort of like a cubicle farm without the cubicle walls. On one side was a slightly larger desk, set apart from the others by a bit more space, and with the title of 'Assistant Headmistress' boldly proclaimed in a plaque above a name - A. Hartford. While the name seemed innocuous, the appearance of the woman behind the desk was anything but. Stern and harsh were thoroughly inadequate adjectives. She wore her blonde hair up in a librarian's bun, and the unstylish glasses added to the impression of being haughty and unapproachable, as if she was better than everyone around her, or at least considered herself so. Her business suit was impeccably tailored in an unmistakable display of status and wealth. She was typing rapidly on her computer, glancing up from time to time at notes and not deigning to look at us mere mortals.

So far, the place was oh for two in friendly attitudes. Was this bitch central? Snobby rich kid high? If so, I vowed I wouldn't put up with the smug, self-righteous attitudes, but would rather take my chances elsewhere. Maybe the League could home-school me under a guardianship or something....

A receptionist or aide looked up at Mom and me from behind one of the plainer desks centered opposite the door. "May I help you?" she asked in a warm, friendly voice. One for three. Her friendliness matched my first visual impression of her; she had shoulder-length auburn hair, and her face exuded approachability. I couldn't help but steal a quick glance at the assistant headmistress, who seemed to completely lack even the vaguest hint of human social skills.

The nameplate on her desk read Elaine Claire; I stifled a giggle at the absurd thought that people might frequently call her E Claire, implying a pastry joke from her name. As quickly as that thought came, I had the realization that she'd probably heard _all_ such related pastry jokes and was sick to death of them. I'd often heard Dad say that the quickest way to go nowhere with a company or business was to annoy the reception and secretarial staff. They could be your best friends or worst enemies, and it all depended upon how you treated them. I gulped as I realized that a bad impression with Ms. Claire wouldn't be a good start to my time at Whateley.

"I hope so," Mom replied sweetly. "My ... daughter recently manifested as a mutant, and we, that is, the Sioux Falls League and I, got her accepted here. I hope it's not too late ...."

A door behind the receptionist opened, and a remarkable looking woman strode out energetically, with a pleasant smile. From Debra's description, I knew her to be Headmistress Carson. "No, it's not too late to start classes," she said, answering Mom's question. Mrs. Carson looked at me, and I flinched a little bit; she had an air of power and confidence about her, and she exuded wisdom born of long years of experience, even though she appeared to be only in her mid-thirties. She _belonged_ in a powerful role, of that I was certain. "You must be Kayda Franks." She extended her hand to me. 'We've been expecting you."

Nervously, I shook her hand, knowing I had a worried expression. What if she was a telepath or something, and could tell what I was thinking? Had she read the part of my application that proclaimed my gender change? Was _that_ now public? Were people in the office going to stare at me or laugh at me because of that?

I must have looked quite nervous, because she smiled and laughed. "No, I don't read minds, but I've heard every question that uneasy teenagers - and their parents - might ask, or not ask, as the case may be." She turned to one side and gestured into her office. "Why don't we have a nice chat, answer your questions, and make sure your paperwork is complete? Then we can get you moved in to your residence cottage. You'll be in ...."

Elaine didn't even look up. "Ms. Franks will be in Poe Cottage," she answered efficiently. "Mrs. Horton has been advised of her arrival, and has a room ready for her."

Mrs. Carson smiled and led us into her office, closing her door behind us as we sat. While Mom and Mrs. Carson talked about tuition, room and board, and scholarships, I dearly wished that I had a book to read - even a romance novel would have been better than listening to all the financial details. What I did pick up from their conversation was that I was getting a partial scholarship, and that in exchange, I was expected to have a 'work-study' job on campus, which would be arranged through my counselor. From the way Mom and Mrs. Carson talked, the scholarship was a formality and a tax gimmick. Mom and Dad paid part of my tuition directly, and made a generous tax-deductible contribution to Whateley, which in turn would be used for scholarships like mine. In exchange for this, I had to work, which I knew gave the administration _more_ leverage over me. It was a tidy little game.

Forty-five minutes later, I walked out of the administration office, dazed by the information overload, while Mom stayed behind to finish filling out paperwork that gave me permission to participate in martial arts, to use the training ranges and simulators, for medical treatment for any injuries sustained curing the course of instruction - the order seemed ominous to me - and a general in loco parentis form which allowed Whateley to make decisions deemed necessary for my welfare and well-being in the event they were unable to get ahold of Mom or Dad. I felt like Mom was signing my life away to this unusual and mostly unknown academy.

Mrs. Carson had noted that it would be easiest for all the other students if Mom didn't help me move my stuff; what she really meant was that I wouldn't look like a poor helpless girl who needed Mommy to move into a dorm. I agreed, even if it hadn't been what Mrs. Carson had said aloud. Perhaps it was because I was feeling a little paranoid about being at a new school, and having mutated and then attacked, but there was something in the look that Mom and Mrs. Carson were exchanging that made me nervous. I forced aside such silly feelings, and we made plans to meet for lunch at the cafeteria once I got moved in.

I was given a choice of waiting outside with the cast-iron bitch while Mom and Mrs. Carson discussed more business things, or taking my things to Poe. Normally, the house-mother of a cottage, in this case Mrs. Horton, would send an upperclassman to escort a new student to his or her cottage, but it would be a while before a suitable escort could be sent, since most of the students were in class. Already bored by forty-five minutes of dull talk about forms and signatures and tuition and such, I leaped at the chance to get out of there, and I let Mrs. Carson know in no uncertain terms that I'd reviewed a campus map, I knew where Poe Cottage was, and I could get my things there on my own. It wasn't going to be a difficult task; I had left most of my things at our farm when we'd had to flee, and I had only one large and one medium suitcase and a smaller, carry-on bag of toiletries to move, plus a box of room supplies Mom and I had bought that morning.

I could tell that Mrs. Carson wasn't happy, but she acquiesced. I got the suitcases and the box all stacked and strapped together, so I just had to pull the largest rolling suitcase and all my worldly belongings followed along like a well-behaved dog on a leash, while I toted the carry-on bag. It was a bit depressing to realize that everything I had now fit into this meager pile of luggage, at least until Mom got home and started sending me stuff like my math books, more clothes, and other things that she would probably believe that I needed for my dorm room. And chokecherry jelly. She _had_ to send me a supply of chokecherry jelly.

It must have been between class periods, because I noticed that I was attracting quite a bit of attention from a lot of passing students, and there were even a couple who seemed to have gone out of their way to pass near me so they could get a better look. My heart raced and my throat constricted uncomfortably, because many of the spectators and onlookers were boys, and the looks on their faces were more than idle curiosity, which made me unnaturally nervous, bordering on a sensation of abject terror.

I soon had four guys walking with me - two on either side. The one closest to my right had wavy dark hair and an olive complexion that hinted at being Mediterranean, while two of the other three looked like big, bulky bullies. The fourth member wasn't small, but there was something shifty about his demeanor. The four could have easily worn signs advertising "bullies" and "trouble." I hastened my pace as I fought a massive surge of that irrational panic I'd felt at times before, but the quartet of boys kept step with me.

"Since you're obviously new here," the guy on my right said, by way of crude introduction, "I would be delighted to help you with the ... intricacies of Whateley - the best classes, the best and worst teachers, the various campus groups ...." He had a foreign accent that I guessed was Italian, and with a classic aquiline nose and sparkling eyes, he had the general appearance of an Italian flirt.

My heart was racing. "Thank you," I began, struggling to contain my fear and at least be civil, "but I ... I don't need any help," I stammered, trying to quicken my pace. The 'personal' attention I was getting from these boys was frightening me far more than I thought reasonable, but it was hard to form a rational argument when panic had overwhelmed the logic centers of my brain.

"Where are my manners?" the boy asked with mock horror. "Permit me to introduce myself. They call me Cagliostro, and my friends are Truck, TK, and Nitro." He smiled at me with what should have been a pleasant, friendly smile, but there was something deceitful in his expression. In all honesty, he had the looks that I would have envied only a few short days ago. In my old high school, he'd have been fighting off the cheerleaders and popular girls. I suspected that more than one girl thought him dashing. I wasn't one of them, however. "And you are?"

"In a hurry to get moved into my cottage," I answered hastily, trying to sound discouraging but not rude, "so I can finish checking in and get my class schedule." I cringed inwardly; any of the girls from my school, even the most socially awkward, would have known how to give these creeps the brush-off, but I had no clue, and was operating mostly on fear.

I didn't like the fact that we were attracting quite a bit of attention from a group of students, many clad in their distinctive Whateley uniforms, watching as I walked with my trio of unwelcome shadows. I felt that I was part of a sideshow, and that others were probably betting to see how long it would take for me to succumb to Cagliostro's charms, or what I would do to escape them.

"Then by all means, gentlemen," he said to his sidekicks, "help the lady with her luggage."

"Uh, no thanks," I stammered, getting more unnerved. "I've got it balanced, and it's easy."

"Oh, but we insist," Cagliostro continued smoothly. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do. Surely you would not be so crass as to deny us an opportunity to demonstrate our chivalric skills, would you?" His accent was like honey, smooth and probably alluring to most girls.

I heard snickers and guffaws in the small crowd that was gathering. I wanted desperately to get out of this crowd, because I was feeling more and more like the star attraction in a circus, and I didn't like it. As I fought off a surge of genuine terror, I did the only thing I could think of - I called the chant to ghost-walk, as Wakan Tanka had taught me, hoping that it would envelop my luggage as well. I watched the silver aura form around everyone, but then I noted, as I glanced around, that one girl didn't have an aura, and she was smiling at me knowingly, as if this were all a game to amuse the student body. I was startled to realize that she was likely unaffected by the ghost-walking spell.

"She ... sees me?" I stammered to Wakan Tanka.

"Some with powerful magic can see through the spell," she explained. Great - my invisibility wasn't completely invisible.

I hastened away from where Cagliostro and his friends stood, watching them cautiously as I moved away. They spun around, searching for me, Cagliostro frowning. He frowned, and then he seemed to be concentrating on something. I felt something like a smack to my head, hard enough that I staggered, and I lost focus on my spell.

The silver auras were all gone, and people were staring at me again. I was also very confused. Why was I walking away from this very nice young man, who was also quite attractive, when he'd offered to help me? That was being quite rude, and I should let him help me, and then find some way to show my appreciation for his generosity. Maybe he'd take me on a date...?

Those strange thoughts were ripped apart suddenly and quite violently, and I felt a touch of nausea as a whiplash effect of force and counterforce dazed me. As my own panic returned, I realized that for a few moments, I'd felt like I had when Wakan Tanka had first dream-walked with me, leaving me dazed and open to suggestion. But these suggestions were no herbal tea to calm me; these were the suggestive hints of a boy trying to telepathically persuade me to date him, something that struck at the heart of my unidentified terror.

"Get out of my head!" I screamed wildly at him, still fighting the dizzying effects from Tatanka shielding me from his unwanted psychic attempt to plant thoughts in my head.

I saw Cagliostro stagger, holding his head with a look that was equal parts surprise and agony, while his friends stared for a moment. Their thoughts were written plainly on their faces; even if they didn't understand it, they didn't like what I'd just done to Cagliostro, and weren't going to let me get away with it. Truck grabbed my arm firmly. "All we're trying to do is help," he said sternly. "You don't have to be so rude about it." I tried to pull away, but my arm could have as well been embedded in a block of concrete for all the good my tugging did.

Cagliostro shook off the effects of the block Tatanka had given me, and he turned back to me, I saw his unpleasant expression. Quite simply, I panicked, and screamed. I don't quite know what happened, except that Tatanka manifested full-sized, aggressively knocked Truck away from me, and then stood between me and Cagliostro, snorting, his gaze angrily fixed on the boys.

"Security!" I heard from behind me suddenly. The students who'd been spectating suddenly vanished like specters at sunrise, leaving me alone with the four boys who'd tried to mentally and physically assault me. "What's going on here?"

"She assaulted us!" Truck claimed quite firmly. "Look!" He showed off the place where Tatanka had torn his shirt and drawn a little blood.

"Yeah," Nitro chimed in. "We were offering to help us, and she suddenly got mad and manifested that ... thing, and it attacked Truck."

"And she did some kind of mental assault on me, too," Cagliostro added, giving me a nasty smirk.

One of the officers glared at me. "Let's go. You're all coming to the office." He glared at me. "And demanifest that ... that thing," he snarled at me, "unless you'd like to be in more trouble for resisting security in the performance of their duties." I realized that Tatanka wasn't letting anyone near me out of fear for my safety. He looked at the other officer. "Call for backup and get Truck to Doyle for a medical exam. Get his statement, too."

I recalled Tatanka, and the officer stepped to my side and took me by the elbow, holding me a little more firmly than I would have liked. I had to abandon my luggage to the care of a junior from Poe Cottage, who was apparently an adjunct security officer, and after assuring them that she'd see it safely delivered, they marched me off. I felt like I was being treated as a criminal as they escorted me to Kane Hall, the building housing the security offices, with students all around me pausing to watch me being taken away by the officers. The only thing missing from this miserable scene were manacles on my hands and ankles. I felt humiliated at how I was being treated when I was the victim.

At least those who'd assaulted me were also going to the security office, mostly, but whether that was to file a complaint to get me in more trouble or to be questioned about the incident remained to be determined. This was just great - I been on campus fewer than two hours and hadn't even gotten moved into my cottage, and I was already in what looked to be serious trouble. I figured that Mom was going to have to take me home now, too, and I'd be back where I started - stuck living on a farm near a town where everyone wanted to kill me. I felt dampness on my cheeks. Damned hormones.

Cagliostro had a smug smile as he walked into the security offices. He obviously knew how things worked around campus, whereas I didn't, which gave him all the advantages. I felt something in my head, and just as quickly, felt Tatanka blocking it. I glanced, and Cagliostro raised an eyebrow at me, a most curious action given what had happened.

I decided to try something. I told Tatanka to not block him telepathically for a moment, but to be on guard just in case.

"Agree to a date, and I can make this all easy. Otherwise, you're going down for assault." He had an annoying smirk.

"No!" I thought back strongly. "You attacked me." I had Tatanka slam my mental barrier back up, startling Cagliostro and making him wince from the brutality of Tatanka closing the mental door to my mind again. I was grateful that Tatanka could shield me so effectively from psi effects.

With two security officers standing ready, the remaining four of us stood in front of the main desk in the security offices. A stern-faced lieutenant on duty stood from his desk and walked our way. "Well, well, if it isn't my friend Cagliostro?" he said as he looked up and down the group. "And you're hanging with TNT now? What kind of trouble are you causing this time?" From his tone, these guys apparently had a rep with security that wasn't good.

Cagliostro stared evenly at me. "She manifested an animal and attacked us," he said without batting an eye, "without any reason. We had just offered to help her move her luggage to her cottage when she flipped out on us. You saw how she injured Truck."

"That's a lie!" I snapped to defend myself. I wasn't about to let these three bozos railroad me, when they'd been the aggressors. "I was just ...."

"You'll have your chance to speak," the lieutenant, Reynolds from his name tag interrupted, an unpleasant frown on his face. I felt a shudder of fear; he sounded like he believed Cagliostro and the others, and disbelieved me. "Breen, you and Grimes get Cagliostro's statement. Matthews, same for Nitro." He glanced over his shoulder. "Kretch? Interview TK." He looked back to a desk where a young woman was working. "Emily?"

"Yes, sir?" She turned from doing paperwork at her desk.

"You and Sergeant Harris get a statement from ...." He stared at me blankly for a moment. "You're new here, aren't you?"

"I just got here today," I answered, my voice trembling to match my nerves. "I'm Kayda Franks."

Lieutenant Reynolds sighed and shook his head. "Getting an early start with us, aren't you?" He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Get a statement from Ms. Franks."

His snarky comment and attitude really pissed me off. I followed Sergeant Harris, a burly, no-nonsense security officer, and Emily, who in contrast, was a rather petite young woman with average looks, and with her hair in a low-maintenance style, which made her blend into the background. I expected an interrogation room - harsh lights, uncomfortable furniture, the whole miserable thing portrayed in movies and on TV, but instead, the room was a comfortable but small conference room.

The way Emily started the interrogation surprised me, activating a recording system. "Why don't you tell me what happened, from your viewpoint?" I'd been expecting harsh, accusatory, demanding questions.

"I ... I was walking to my cottage to move in," I said, fighting back tears, "when these four guys started following me. They were trying to sound nice and helpful, but ... I got scared because they were following me, so I tried to walk away. When that didn't work, I tried a ... trick ... I learned so that they wouldn't see me, but one of them did something so that broke my concentration. Then the big guy grabbed ahold of me, and I panicked, and I guess I manifested Tatanka to protect me."

"Tatanka?" Emily asked skeptically.

"My ... white buffalo."

"This white buffalo of yours injured a PK brick! Do you know how hard it is to hurt a brick? That doesn't sound exactly innocuous and defensive to me if you manifested something that would attack and injure someone like Truck." Harris's comments _were_ accusatory and rough. I realized this was a good-cop, bad-cop routine that they probably had down pat.

"I'm sorry," I said, starting to bawl. "I didn't mean to, but they wouldn't leave me alone! I just wanted to get moved into my cottage, so I could get away from people like my old friends who tried to kill me!" I didn't even try to wipe at the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Is there anything else?" Emily asked soothingly, in contrast to Harris' no-nonsense, rough, hostile demeanor.

I nodded. "He - Cagliostro - was doing something in my head. I could feel him trying to make me think that he was so helpful and that I'd be lucky that someone like him would help me out on my first day, and that maybe I should go on a date with him out of gratitude, but Tatanka picked it up and blocked it."

Harris looked at Emily, frowning deeply. "I'll go tell the Lieutenant. We'll have to get Psychic Arts involved." He purposefully stalked out of the interrogation room.

After at least another hour of question and answer, most of which was repetitive and, at least from Harris' point, harsh, Emily led me back to the main office, where I took a seat on a bench as far from Cagliostro and Nitro as I could sit. Cagliostro still had his smug smile, but Nitro looked a little worried. A couple of minutes later, Truck came in with a security escort, bandaged from where Tatanka had gored him. Sergeant Harris immediately took Truck to a room to get his statement, too.

I sat, trying not to be nervous, but worry came as I heard the Lieutenant speaking softly behind his desk.

"Hartford wants the reports now," he muttered, "but we don't have anything yet from Psychic Arts." He glanced at Harris. "Anything from the cameras?"

I saw Harris shake his head. "Nothing definitive as to who started it," he answered. "There's some obvious discussion, and Cagliostro is knocked backwards. It shows Truck grasping her arm, and then the white buffalo appears and knocks him away."

Lt. Reynolds sighed. "Go give Chief the rundown, and then send what we have for reports."

"Chief Delarose is at the range with Gunny," an officer replied immediately. "Should I disturb him, or get ahold of Everheart?"

"Everheart. She should be on roaming patrol; tell her we need her in the office ASAP." He glanced at another of the officers. "Grimes, any leads on witnesses?"

Grimes sighed. "The usual. When we show up, they disappear."

"The incident was pretty close to the nuthouse, er, I mean Poe. Call Mrs. Horton and see if any of her students saw anything," the Lieutenant suggested.

"I already called. She hasn't reported anything yet."

"Damn." Reynolds thought a moment. "Okay, keep trying. Check the camera footage again and see if we can identify any of the students who were actual witnesses. And get moving on it - Hartford is really pushing on this for some reason."

One of the men seated at desk, with a phone at his ear, looked up sharply. "Lieutenant, Hartford wants the reports now!"

"Tell her we're haven't got all the data, and I'm not releasing anything until I have a report from Psychic Arts about a possible psychic attack," Reynolds barked at the man. "Then tell both Everheart and the Chief that they're going to get angry calls from Hartford, and tell them what's going on." He started to turn, but then looked back at the man. "And get me Carstaires or Fubar or Ms. Montaigne now!"

"Ms. Montaigne is off campus on an errand. Carstaires and Fubar are in the middle of classes."

"Damn."

The conversation was not making me feel any more confident. I was slowly coming to the conclusion that I was being railroaded despite the fact that I'd been the victim in the whole incident. On top of that, it had taken long enough that my stomach was rumbling from hunger.

"Uh, excuse me?" I asked meekly.

"Yes?" Officer Grimes turned to me, barely trying to smile.

"Uh, I was supposed to meet my Mom for lunch over an hour ago," I said meekly. "She's probably worried about me, and I'm kind of hungry, too."

Grimes shook his head. "Sorry, miss," he said. "You can't go until we complete our investigation."

"But ... I told you what happened."

Grimes shook his head. "We have a possible psychic component to the incident, so we can't do anything until we get a proper evaluation. We have to keep you and the others under close observation until a psychic probe is completed to make sure there isn't any outside interference with our investigation that might conceal or obliterate any traces."

"Can I call Mom to let her know what's happening?" I begged.

"I'm sorry, miss, but that's against procedures. I'll send a message that you've been delayed, though."

After another half an hour, a moderately tall but young woman strode into the security office, wearing something that looked like military fatigues, with a pistol holstered at her waist. I figured she was important by the way everyone turned to her, even though she appeared to be only eighteen or nineteen. "Sitrep," she said simply, her request sounding like an order despite her very feminine voice.

Reynolds' spine almost snapped as he bolted to attention. "The statements are in the computer with the preliminary data. There's a potential psychic component, so we're waiting for someone from Psychic Arts. Hartford is demanding our report now, and she's getting impatient."

The woman paused, staring across the room as she stood immobile for a few seconds, as if her mind were somewhere else entirely. "Okay, I've got the data. The assistant headmistress is entitled, by regulations, to access our preliminary data. She also wants to meet with Ms. Franks." She turned to me. "Let's go."

I gulped as I rose, and followed the woman out. "By the way, I'm Samantha Everheart," she said to me in a matter-of-fact way.

"I ... I'm Kayda ...." I began

"Kayda Franks. I know. New student, arrived on campus today. Originally from South Dakota, mutation manifested approximately 15 February. Rapid mutation, probably caused by low- to mid-level burnout. Warrant for arrest by Sioux Falls MCO office was overridden by Chicago MCO Internal Affairs office." It sounded like she was reciting a computer database. "I'm familiar with your file." She sort-of smiled. "You've had a busy few weeks."

"I ... I have a file?"

Samantha nodded. "We gather all the information we can about our students, including applicants."

"Uh, how much trouble am I in?" I whimpered. "I didn't do anything! They started it, and ...."

"Calm down, Kayda," Samantha interrupted. "Since you haven't even had an orientation, I doubt that you're in any kind of trouble because you don't know the rules yet. Misunderstandings like this happen all the time."

"Misunderstanding?" I cried, feeling my tears resume. "He wanted me to ... to go out with him, and he was trying to make me!" I sobbed. "I didn't do anything!"

Samantha nodded. "The administration has the preliminary statements. I've been asked to take you to see Assistant Headmistress Hartford as part of the investigation."

"But why just me? Why not them, too? They started it!"

"I'm not privy to why the administration operates the way they do. I do know, however, that there are regulations and rules by which they must abide in any incident like this."

I decided to shut up. Sam Everheart wasn't going to tell me any more than she already had, but at the same time, she was being as supportive as I guessed she could be, given her position in security. Tears continued to trickle down my cheeks, and as we walked, I was aware that students were watching me critically, probably pre-judging me as guilty as news of the incident spread around campus like wildfire. I knew how school gossip networks operated. This incident was yet another thing that was going to make life difficult for me.

Samantha escorted me into the administration office where I'd been several hours earlier. I was surprised when I saw the clock; it was after two in the afternoon. I'd been in security for over three hours, I was hungry and frightened. While Ms. Hartford continued to work on her computer, we were directed to sit in chairs by the door. There were chairs in front of Ms. Hartford's desk, but she hadn't deigned to let us sit in her presence yet. I suspected, strongly, that it was a tactic to increase my sense of fear and intimidation. It worked, because I was quite terrified.

After a few moments, Ms. Hartford cleared her throat, a sound directed not at us, but at the receptionist. Ms. Claire looked at us. "Admiral, Ms. Hartford will see you and Ms. Franks now."

Admiral? Samantha Everheart an admiral? But ... wasn't she too young? Then again, the security officers had shown her great deference. And stranger mutations had occurred besides slow aging. The intimidation factor went up significantly. Everheart glanced my way as she stood, perhaps in an attempt to reassure me, but more likely to signal me that I should join her at Ms. Hartford's desk. Swallowing hard, I stood with her and walked to the chairs before Ms. Hartford's 'throne'. My knees felt like they were knocking together, and as I grasped the arms of the chair as I sat down and keep my hands from shaking.

Ms. Hartford glanced at her computer screen. "According to the security report, you assaulted another student with your manifestation," she said at me in a very accusatory tone.

"But ... he started it," I protested, feeling my tears trying to start again. I sensed that Hartford had already made up her mind that I was guilty.

"According to your statement," Hartford continued, looking at me disdainfully, "you panicked, and you weren't aware that you manifested your animal, which attacked the student."

"He was defending me," I protested.

"But you didn't have control of his manifestation?" Hartford asked directly.

"I ... I... he was holding me," I tried to explain, "against my will. Hard! I tried, but I couldn't get away from him!"

"You didn't have control of your manifestation, correct?"

"I ... I don't know."

"And your manifestation injured the student, who is a PK brick, correct?"

"He was defending me!"

"And on at least two prior occasions, your manifestation penetrated force fields and injured another person, correct?"

My jaw dropped open. "That ... that was during my powers testing," I protested. "And the other was protecting Mom and me and Deb ... Cornflower during a robbery!"

"Nevertheless, your manifestation injured Tractor and the Gemologist, correct?"

"Yes, but ...."

"I think we know enough to determine that you are not in full control of a dangerous manifestation. As a result, you are reassigned to Hawthorne Cottage, which is better prepared to deal with students such as yourself whose powers are not in full control. Once you learn to control your manifestation, we can see about moving you to another cottage."

Thursday, March 15, 2007
Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy

"But ... my ...." I was no longer able to control my tears, which trickled, and then streamed down my cheeks. The only security to which I had been clinging was the fact that others in Poe would understand what I'd been through because they'd been through the same thing. But no-one in any other cottage would understand, and according to what I'd been told by Debra, I couldn't tell anyone, either. "My ... change! I was told that I'd be in Poe," I sniffled, trying to wipe my tears, "with others who ... who understand."

Hartford glared at me. "Yes, but that was before we knew that you couldn't fully control your power, and as such, you are a potential danger to your cottage-mates. We are responsible to all students, Ms. Franks, not just you."

I was devastated. "But ... " I realized that I _was_ being railroaded by Hartford for some reason, because she was using evidence of my manifestation that she should have had _no_ access to. That fact added intense, burning rage to my already unstable emotional cauldron. "I haven't even been completely checked in! I want to talk to my Mom," I snapped.

"If you're going to attend a boarding school," Hartford sneered scornfully, "then you have to realize that you can't run to Mommy anytime something upsets you. You will be following our rules, and our decisions. We have properly signed authorization forms to make sure that you are cared for, including making decisions on your behalf when necessary to ensure we protect you _and_ the other students." She sounded like she was lecturing a six-year-old.

I started to bolt from my chair, ready to run from this nasty place, not wanting to stay in a place that would so deliberately ignore the facts and assume my guilt without knowing or even caring what had really happened. I'd go find Mom, wherever she was, and we'd leave this awful place with the awful administrators that were prejudging me guilty without knowing or caring about the facts. Mindless bureaucrats who didn't care what I thought, or what I needed, but only cared about their stupid rules. For some reason, Hartford was going to punish me for something I hadn't done by shoving me into what Tractor and Vanity Girl had called the 'freak' dorm for those whose powers were a danger, which almost automatically made the residents social outcasts.

I knew my powers weren't dangerous and that made things sting worse. I decided I wasn't going to put up with this. Maybe Mom could give guardianship of me to the Sioux Falls League, and I could home-school there. Maybe we could sneak back home and Mom could home-school me until I finished high-school. Anything would be better than the way Hartford was giving me the royal shaft. The worst part was that she seemed to be getting some kind of sadistic pleasure out of what she was doing. I was getting screwed, she knew it, and the look in her eyes said that she was gloating about it. "I don't need this shit messing up my life any worse!" I snapped angrily at Hartford. "If this is what this stupid fucking academy is like, I don't need it! I'm leaving! Where's my Mom?" My voice was shrill and loud, carrying through the entire office area and probably audible in the halls, but I didn't care.

Admiral Everheart's hand on my arm stopped me, as if she knew what I was about to do and was silently telling me to stop; she was surprisingly strong, and after a few seconds' contest of wills, with me unable to pull my arm away from her, I slumped back into my chair, fuming and muttering under my breath, a scowl accompanying the angry slits that were my eyes.

"Ms. Hartford," Samantha began, "if you will note, the report is preliminary, and so marked. Per regulations, unless there is impending danger to the school or other students, a preliminary security report may not be used for administrative or disciplinary action. Further, there is an unresolved issue as to whether there was a psychic component to the incident. If there was, indeed, such an assault, then according to the Whateley handbook, Ms. Franks is entitled to self-defense. Even if there was no psychic or magical attack, the security tapes show that she was actively trying to avoid confrontation, and that Truck was the first to lay hands on her. Her arm was bruised from being grasped, and the handprint was consistent with one of the other students."

"I see no bruising."

"If you check the records, you will also note that Ms. Franks is a high-level regenerator. Within twenty minutes of the incident, the bruise had healed. Security has photos in the report that clearly show significant bruising, indicative of excessive force by Truck." Samantha seemed to be just getting started. "Further, there are two police reports from last year suggesting that Cagliostro may have attempted to use his psychic abilities against other girls shortly after he manifested. There is not yet conclusive evidence that Ms. Franks acted in anything other than self-defense. She was not the aggressor. An evidentiary and disciplinary hearing would clearly establish that fact from the hard evidence at hand."

"Nevertheless, Ms. Franks is a potential hazard, and therefore will be reassigned to Hawthorne."

"That move is highly inadvisable," a fourth voice said, a refined, masculine voice that was suddenly in the office behind me. I glanced around, surprised, and saw a well-dressed gentleman standing behind Admiral Everheart. He hadn't been there a moment before.

"Mister Geintz," Hartford noted his presence, but sounded unhappy about it. "This is not ..."

"On the contrary, Ms. Hartford," the new man countered quickly, "it is completely within my line of duties. This was potentially a psychic assault, and as such, no actions may be taken by faculty or administration until the issue of psychic or magic involvement is resolved. It's in the handbook." He looked at me and smiled confidently. "I apologize for being late, but I was evaluating the other student involved in the incident to determine if they had any psychic involvement, either actively or passively."

"And was there?"

Louis shrugged. "I have a preliminary assessment, but as you well know, policy requires that I, or someone else from the Psychic Arts department, assess all of the students before even a preliminary report can be made."

Hartford scowled deeply. "Regardless of the causation of this incident, she has admitted that her manifestation was not under her control."

"Allegedly," Sam Everheart said very professionally. "Again, that's an unresolved issue. The medical report indicates that the injuries sustained by Truck were quite minor, considering the size of the manifestation and the ease with which it penetrated his PK field. Any trained military or law enforcement officer would conclude that it was a very controlled, limited application of force, which would be inconsistent with an 'out of control' manifestation, but would be entirely consistent with a claim of self-defense."

"In your opinion," Hartford said scornfully. She wasn't going to let go of her attempt to railroad me. "Our duty is to err on the side of caution ...."

Ms. Carson's door opened, interrupting Hartford and surprising us all, and she stepped out, with Mom beside her. Mom's eyes widened when she saw me sitting with an armed security officer across a desk from Ms. Hartford. "What's going on here?" Mom demanded. Bless her; she was in protective-mom mode.

Mrs. Carson frowned. "Ms. Hartford, could you please explain what's going on?"

"Ms. Franks was involved in an incident in which another student was injured by her manifestation. Based on reports, she is not in control of her manifestations, and as such, she is being reassigned to Hawthorne for the safety of the general student body."

Mrs. Carson glanced at me, frowning. "Ms. Hartford is correct. If your manifestation is a danger to other students, you should be in Hawthorne for your and others' safety. But your admission forms didn't include any information about a manifestation that was uncontrolled. Surely the Sioux Falls League would have noted such a situation."

"There is potentially a psychic component to the incident in which Ms. Franks was the victim," Everheart added a fact which Hartford had conveniently omitted.

"I didn't do anything but defend myself," I interjected quickly, "and Tatanka didn't really hurt the boy that was holding me. Not very much."

"Louis?" Mrs. Carson asked.

I glanced up at Mr. Geintz. "If you would allow me to perform the required psychic exam," he said, "I think we can gather enough data to resolve this issue."

"Uh, will it hurt?" I asked, a little frightened by the prospect of him rummaging around in my mind.

"No. However, if you have any mental defenses, I need you to lower them."

"There's just Tatanka," I replied softly, wiping once more at my unending stream of tears. "He doesn't like anyone poking around in my head. He kind of pushed Cagliostro out of my mind." I winced at the memories of how Cagliostro had reacted to Tatanka's force and how that had felt in my own head. "I hope Tatanka didn't hurt him."

"No, Cagliostro is okay. He was just stunned momentarily by the strength of your psychic block. Now, will you please assure Tatanka that I intend no harm?" I nodded to him.

Mrs. Carson gestured us toward her a small conference room. "Sam, I think we've got it from here."

Samantha Everheart nodded. "As soon as I have the information from Louis, I'll complete the final report and file it appropriately." She stood and marched out of the office with military precision, while Mom, Mrs. Carson, Mr. Geintz, and I went into a conference room and sat down, leaving Ms. Hartford visibly stewing at her computer.

I talked to Tatanka in my mind, calming him as to what Louis would be doing. Then I nodded, and I felt Louis probing in my mind. It wasn't uncomfortable, but because of my link to Tatanka and Wakan Tanka, I could feel his presence in my mind. It seemed a little crowded as he guided my memories of the incident, even talking to Tatanka directly to get his view of what had happened. It took quite a while for Louis to do a thorough psychic checkout, ensuring that I didn't have false memories, and that my report matched what my mind said happened. There was something else that Louis touched, and when he did so, I felt icy tendrils of terror shoot through every nerve in my body. He must have noticed my fear because he didn't dwell long on whatever it was, at least not long enough for me to realize what that strange something was. Then the psychic exam was completed, and I felt him leave my mind.

"It was a psychic suggestion, exactly as Kayda reported," Louis said with a frown. "The suggestion was that Ms. Franks would feel grateful for the offer of assistance, and would find Cagliostro attractive. Due to ... previous experiences, the attention of the four young men, followed by the telepathic suggestion, genuinely terrified her, with what appears to be good cause. Her reaction was in self-defense. From what I learned from her buffalo spirit, the actions when manifested were controlled to be deterring and not harmful."

Mom's jaw dropped. "That sounds like ... he intended something ... toward Kayda!"

Mrs. Carson's scowl deepened. "This is Cagliostro's first confirmed offense of using psychic power against a student. What do you recommend, Louis?"

Louis sighed. "I believe an appropriate detention would be sufficient for this offense. If the suggestions had been any more ... coercive and inappropriate, I would have recommended a psychic block or even expulsion."

"I think that sounds suitable. And detention for Truck, TK, and Nitro." Mrs. Carson sighed. "Now what about the issue of assigning Ms. Franks to Hawthorne?"

"I don't want to go to Hawthorne!" I interrupted, fighting my damned oversensitive emotions again. "I'll go back home instead if you're going to kick me out of Poe! Debra told me that I'd find understanding people in Poe, but not in the other cottages, because of ... how I manifested!"

"That would be Cornflower?" Mrs. Carson permitted herself a slight smile. "She wrote a pretty glowing letter of recommendation for you." She turned back to Louis. "What do you think?"

"It would be a serious mistake to reassign Ms. Franks from Poe to Hawthorne. She very much _needs_ the support she'll get in Poe, and I don't believe her manifested spirit is a danger. It could have seriously injured Truck, but held back its power to merely deter further aggression."

"Okay, that matches my impression of the situation."

"And I want Ms. Franks to visit with Dr. Bellows for professional counseling at least three times a week. There are much deeper issues that she needs to resolve."

I gulped, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Mom exchange a glance with Mrs. Carson. I wasn't aware of any issue, but Mr. Geintz had obviously found something that concerned him. "Okay," I said hesitantly, curious about the look on Mom's face, but this was neither the place nor time to discuss the issue with her.

"Subject to mandatory counseling, I see no reason to change your cottage assignment. That counseling is not optional; if you do not cooperate with Dr. Bellows, we will have to reassess the situation. Do you understand?" Mrs. Carson was all business, professional without being overly stern or intimidating.

I gulped. "Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Carson stood, signaling that the conference was complete. "Louis, please make a report to security so they can finalize their incident report."

"When you finish," Louis Geintz said politely, "I need a moment of your time."

Mrs. Carson nodded, and led Mom and I from her office. At Ms. Hartford's desk, she stopped. "Ms. Franks will be housed in Poe, as per the original cottage assignment." She looked at me. "I believe you're late at checking in with Mrs. Horton. Given what's already happened, I would suggest you and your mother hurry to Poe and get your things moved into your room."

"Uh, is there somewhere I can get something to eat? They didn't give me anything to eat at security, and I'm kind of hungry."

Mrs. Carson sighed as she glanced at the clock. "Sometimes, security gets a little too involved in in their work, and they tend to forget about things like meals when they're busy with an investigation." She turned to the receptionist. "Elaine, can you find something for Kayda to eat?"

Elaine got me a turkey sandwich from somewhere, which I quickly ate because I wanted Mom to help me move in before she had to get back to Berlin to fly home. After what had happened the first time I'd tried to move into my cottage, I needed her around, but I knew that, earlier in the morning, when it looked like I'd be moved in my lunchtime, she had booked a flight to get home to Dad and Danny, and I couldn't be greedy with her time. That, of course, was before security had made a total hash of our plans and my day.

Mrs. Carson

Mrs. Carson watched Mrs. Franks and Kayda walk with Elaine Claire, and she turned back to Louis, closing her door behind her. "What's on your mind?"

"She's a very troubled young lady," Louis said with a grimace.

Liz Carson nodded her agreement. "Yes, she is. But so are many of our other students."

"She's got a few serious issues, including one that she's mentally buried pretty deeply."

Liz sighed. "Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe I should have assigned her to Hawthorne," Liz said heavily, second-guessing herself.

"No. She needs the support for her sudden gender change that she can only get in Poe."

"And that's something you'd discuss with Mrs. Horton." She shook her head. "Now tell me what's really on your mind."

Louis frowned a moment. "There are multiple instances of psychic persuasion, or attempted persuasion, in this case."

Mrs. Carson's expression hardened. "Can you be more specific? We _know_ that Cagliostro attempted to use psychic persuasion on Ms. Franks. What else is there?"

"There is evidence of someone, or something, planting a psychic suggestion in Cagliostro, and then him doing the same with TNT."

"Are you sure?"

Louis nodded, his expression grim. "And there's more. One or more people, or things, don't want Kayda here. The suggestions were to harass and bully Kayda to get her to leave. In the few moments I had in Kayda's mind, also I noticed that she experienced two separate attacks upon her person. The first was in the astral plane, or her dream-world as Native Americans call it, and the second was a physical attack by a Native American spirit. I don't think it's coincidental."

"We'll have to watch her carefully, then." Louis nodded his agreement. "Okay, Louis, Try to trace that suggestion in Cagliostro's mind. Regardless of whether you can find out who, or what, did it, I want that suggestion out of his mind. And wipe out his suggestions for TNT." She shook her head, sighing. "Since it's an outside influence, I no longer think that detention is appropriate, do you?" She shook her head heavily. Sometimes, being headmistress of a school of mutants was challenging. "Use detention as a bargaining chip so they agree to let you do the psychic probe. Let's keep it on the up-and-up. We have to set a good example, now, don't we?"

Between Schuster and Poe

Kayda

We walked back toward Poe, passing many students who seemed to pause and stare at me. Perhaps I was feeling self-conscious after the multi-hour ordeal with security and the administration, but my confidence was shot. Mom could tell; she had her arm around my waist as we walked, and she was talking about the campus and reminiscing about her high-school days to distract me.

As we approached Poe cottage, I was getting strange looks from many of the girls and boys who were coming and going around the cottage. I wasn't certain, but some of the girls were looking at me with more than a hint of appreciation, while the guys seemed to notice me as if I was a troublemaker, but with not the slightest hint of attraction. That fit with what Debra had told me; the girls were either lesbians, or were changelings, and most of the guys were very gay, and thus not interested.

Self-consciously, I walked toward the entrance, where three girls were exiting Poe Cottage. The first looked like the elvish girl from the admin building, but her eyes were violet, her hair was long and flame red, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. She was accompanied by a lithe girl with chocolate skin who seemed to flow gracefully rather than walk, and a very attractive blonde who was paying an unnatural amount of attention to the elf girl. Wakan Tanka was amused by the fact that the elf girl and the attractive blonde girl shared a strong mutual attraction, even though they were trying not to show it. She guided me through a mental exercise to see their natures, and I was surprised to see a sexual tie between the two.

The elf girl stopped and turned suddenly toward me, staring at me with narrowed eyes. I was taken aback, startled by her stern expression, and wondering if she had detected the magic that Wakan Tanka was using to 'read' their natures? My focus was shattered, and I lost my 'reading' on the two. Still, the red-head stared at me, as if measuring me, perhaps magically. Without actively trying to sense anything about her, I could tell that she was probing me with some kind of magic.

"This one is powerful," Wakan Tanka told me in my head. "You should block her."

"I ... don't know how," I answered.

"Then I will teach and lead you in casting this spell. You must learn to do it yourself for the next time." She recited the incantation, and I repeated it, invoking the magic as I chanted according to her instructions. It took a few seconds to complete the spell. "It is a form of ghost-walking, but we are shielding our inner self from her magic. It is what Tatanka does for you, and what you must learn to do for yourself."

I felt the magic tendrils being pushed away from me, and the elf-girl frowned. A look of significant concentration furrowed her brow, and I could feel the probe pushing back at Wakan Tanka's shield.

"This one could be a danger to us, or a powerful ally. We must be careful until we know which," Wakan Tanka advised me.

I decided to be bold and not wait, stepping to the trio of girls, and more specifically, to the elf-girl. "Hi," I said, faking confidence as I stuck out my hand in greeting. "I'm Kayda. I'm just moving in. Do you live in Poe, too?" I hoped she didn't notice how much my hands were shaking.

The girl seemed taken aback by my bold approach. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she grasped my hand. "I'm Nikki, and my code name is Fey," she replied. "And this is Bunny," she continued, introducing me to the shapely blonde, "and my roommate Toni," she finished, nodding to the African-American girl.

I shook hands with both girls. "Pleased to meet you. Are you freshmen, too?"

Fey smiled. "Yes. You'll probably be on the second floor if Mrs. Horton assigns you to the second floor with the rest of us freshmen." She could have made her reply sound snarky or insulting, but she hadn't.

"Well, technically, I'm a sophomore, but they have me taking freshman courses, so I'm kind of classified as a freshman. My friend Debra said I'd probably be on the second floor."

Fey laughed, and the sound was pleasant. "They did the same thing to me. I hope you don't think we're rude, but we've got to get to classes. I'm sure we'll see more of each other." The trio turned and walked away, re-engaging in the conversation that I'd interrupted.

"They seem like nice girls," Mom said as we walked to the cottage entrance. "I'm sure you'll make a lot of new friends quickly if the girls are all that nice."

I wasn't so sure. Their reactions to me had been a little on the cool side. As we strode into the cottage, I felt a bit of strange tingling as we passed the door. I suspected that there was something magical to protect the 'secret of Poe Cottage', as Debra had called it.

"You are perceptive, Kayda," Wakan Tanka told me. "There are magic shields and guards around this building."

An imposing middle-aged woman strode confidently from what appeared to be an apartment and into the large entrance foyer of the building. She looked me over, and then Mom. "Are you Kayda Franks?" she asked. I felt a bit intimated by her mere voice; she had the kind of presence that left no doubt that she could control a dorm-full of mutants with wildly-varying powers. .

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, my voice choosing that moment to get meek and squeaky. She _was_ pretty intimidating.

She stuck out her hand. "Welcome to Poe. I'm Mrs. Horton, house mother." She glanced at her watch, and then at my luggage which was tucked away in a corner of the foyer. "You're late," she said impassively.

I gulped. "I, uh, there were, uh, some boys ...."

Mrs. Horton nodded. "I already have the reports. You took less time than last fall's miscreants to get to know security. They at least waited a bit to start getting in trouble. You aren't going to try to break _all_ their records for trouble-making, I hope."

Tears tried to well up in the corners of my eyes at the reminder of the whole unpleasant incident. "I didn't mean to be late," I said, trembling as I fought to not sob. "And I wasn't trying to cause any trouble. I couldn't help it that they ...." The entirety of the past three weeks had been an emotionally-trying ordeal for me, and it had taken its toll, turning me into an emotional wreck and making me over-react to the simplest things, even joking and light banter.

Mrs. Horton patted my arm gently. "Relax, hon," she said in a soothing voice. "I was joking." She glanced at Mom. "How about if the two of you step into my apartment for a moment, so I can give you a quick briefing of life in Poe?"

"Oh, Debra already told me about the ... secret."

Mrs. Horton frowned. "Debra?"

"Cornflower. She's with the Sioux Falls League, and she helped me with my application and a letter of recommendation."

Mrs. Horton's eyes lit up and a smile emerged on her features. "Ah, Debra Matson. How is she doing? She was sometimes a bit ... difficult, but she was a good student, and not a trouble-maker - mostly. Although she did more than her share of pranking."

"I'll have to ask her about her pranks the next time I talk to her," I said, trying to smile as I felt a bit more at ease for the first time since we'd arrived on campus. A tiny bit. Mrs. Horton had that effect, which was very encouraging to me. "Or maybe if I you'd tell me some stories about her, I'd have something to tease her about." I was hoping that sometime, I could surprise her by asking about some of her more embarrassing exploits.

"Sometime, we'll talk. Now, since you know about Poe, I'll give you our abbreviated briefing. Everyone in Poe is an 'alternative lifestyle' student, meaning they're gay or lesbian or transgendered. Sometimes, a student may be so bisexual that it would cause issues if they were in a standard cottage. We don't talk about that, because some less tolerant students on campus really have a problem with people who are so-called sexual deviants. There is a bias against homosexuals and transgendered people that is pretty ingrained in society, and it spills over to Whateley. It's not your fault that you are who you are, but some people are bigoted and intolerant. While some out themselves, it can be dangerous to do so. So we put you in Poe, where you have a refuge."

"Unfortunately, because of the nature of the students here, we have to ask you to not be honest with anyone outside Poe about your transgendered status, or about anyone else who lives here, because a slip of the tongue could bring danger to your fellow Poe residents. Given the powers the students have here, any 'incident' could rapidly get out of hand or turn tragic. We'd prefer that it never becomes an issue. If you want to 'come out', at least respect your fellow Poesies and don't spill the beans about our secret here."

I nodded. "That's what Debra told me."

"You're one of several changelings we have this year. You were brave enough to admit it on your application."

I frowned. "You mean Mom was honest enough to admit it."

Mrs. Horton and Mom chuckled. "Parents sometimes do things of which their children dont necessarily approve. Returning to the topic at hand, we have many more changelings than normal this year. There will be many girls who understand what you've gone through, and can and will help you."

Mom smiled. "I had a thorough briefing from Debra as well, so I knew what to expect. I'm glad you're thinking of things like this to help protect Kayda's safety."

"Did Debra tell you about the cottage layout and facilities?" Mrs. Horton asked me.

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. There's a common room and a library on this floor, plus a kitchen if we want to cook. Freshmen on second, sophomores on third, juniors on fourth, and seniors get attic rooms. There's a community exercise and weight room in the basement, and a laundry room so we can do our own laundry."

Mrs. Horton smiled. "That saves me a little talking, then. Each floor has a sun-room or television room for studying and socializing. Please be considerate of others who are studying. Now I suggest that you move your things into your room. You'll be in two-oh-five with Evelyn Chambers. I had Megs lined up to give you a campus tour this morning, but since you got ... delayed, I'll find someone to give you the tour after dinner."

I felt ashamed when she'd mentioned the delay; I'd put out another student for the tour that didn't happen, because I managed to attract trouble. That wasn't going to stand me in good stead with Megs, whoever she was, or her friends, once she spread the word. Talk about starting in a hole and digging deeper!

When Mrs. Horton was done, I walked with Mom back to the lobby, and we carried my gear up to the second floor, with me deliberately avoiding the scrutinizing gazes of students who were moving about the dorm. I was late, I was an outsider, and I felt quite humiliated by the whole security incident. Things at Whateley, and in Poe, were not off to a good start.

Room two-oh-five was easy to find; I knocked out of courtesy, but there was no answer. Instead, a couple of heads poked out of other rooms, looking at me and making me feel self-conscious again. One side of the room was occupied, and there were a few items on what were my bed and desk. I sighed, while Mom moved the 'spillover' items back to the other side of the room. Since we didn't have a lot of luggage, it was quick to put my things away in the wardrobe and on my desk. Mom and I got my bed made pretty quickly. I was set to make my home in this room for the next several months.

"I should get you back to the car, so you can get to Berlin to catch your flight home," I said reluctantly. I knew Mom needed to go home, but while part of me wanted to be on my own, another part was very nervous about severing my last link to home and my previous life.

Mom nodded; I could see that she had a tear in the corner of her eye. "I suppose so." Together, we walked out of Poe and down the brick pathway toward Schuster, and the parking lot where the rental car waited. Neither of us talked much; we just walked among the swarms of students, paying them very little attention, but also aware that I was getting stared at.

Most of the other students were in their Whateley uniforms, but a few wore more casual clothing, lending credence to Debra's comment that except for some formal affairs, uniforms weren't strictly required, but were nevertheless highly encouraged. The differences in the uniforms seemed to be their ties, which even the girls wore, and which the League had told me indicated their residence cottage. Some students also had pins, which proclaimed their group or club. One of the more prominent clubs on campus was called the 'Capes', the Future Superheroes of America, and according to Deb and VG, they usually wore their superhero outfits. I couldn't help noticing how many students had club pins of all forms to proclaim their allegiance. They belonged to some clubs which had probably already done their spring rush for new members, I thought bitterly, leaving me even further out in the cold socially.

At the car, Mom paused, and then wrapped her arms around me. "I'm going to miss you, honey," she said through tears. "Do well, and don't forget to call us."

"I will, Mom. And I'm going to miss you, too." My own eyes were moist, but I didn't want to admit to Mom how scared I was of being alone, especially after my unpleasant introduction to security. After a few more hug and more tears, Mom buckled herself in and drove back toward the main gate, watching occasionally over her shoulder as the car pulled away from Schuster Hall.

Sighing heavily, I trudged back to Poe, ignoring all the other students around me. I was truly alone, with no-one I could rely on. I had never felt so lonely in my life. By the time I got to my room in Poe, I was weeping openly, not bothering to wipe the tears from my cheeks. Damned hormones!

I flopped face-first on my bed, ignoring the noise from the hallway as students returned to their rooms after their classes and free time to prepare for dinner. I'd already had a really lousy first day at Whateley, and I really didn't feel hungry. Besides, I'd had a sandwich only a couple of hours earlier. I had yet to meet my roommate, and I _knew_ I wasn't going to fit in with any groups, assuming I ever got a chance to join any of the campus clubs. Mom's departure had really left me in a deep funk.

What the hell was I doing here? I should have tried to stay with Tractor and Farm Boy and Cornflower and Vanity Girl, and the others. I was certain we could have worked something out if we had tried. I felt welcomed there, which was a lot more than I could say about Whateley so far. I'd gotten in trouble with security, annoyed several students, really annoyed the assistant headmistress, upset my housemother, and that was in just my first few hours. And the few introductions I'd tried hadn't worked out well, especially with the elvish girl Fey, who seemed overly suspicious of me. Who knew how badly the remaining few hours of the day would go? And then the days after that?

After a while, the noise quieted down before it slowly ceased. A glance at my alarm clock told me that it was dinnertime. I sighed even at that; I didn't have a watch, because my bulky masculine watch would look stupid on my delicate wrist, but I hadn't had a chance to get a new one more suitable to my changed body. I just rolled over to face the wall, my back to my new roommate's bed. I couldn't help but wonder what else could go wrong.

I noticed that Mom had put up my poster of Debra and me. As I stared at it, I started to cry again because I missed her so much. She was so warm and friendly, unlike anyone I'd met so far here, except maybe Mrs. Carson, but Debra was now sixteen-hundred miles and a time-zone away. I missed her smile and friendliness. The worst thing was not knowing when I'd see her again. At least I could dream-walk with her, so it wasn't totally gloomy. Still.... Mom was, by now, at the airport in Berlin, or on an airplane flying home to Dad and Danny. I was truly alone, and I wondered when, or even if, I'd ever see any of them again.

I don't know how long I'd been lying on my bed bawling my eyes out, but eventually, I heard a knock at my door. At first, I pretended to ignore it; I was in no mood for company. The knock sounded again, more insistently. "Kayda?" I heard a voice call. It was Mrs. Horton.

"Come in," I called out unenthusiastically, still facing the wall.

The door opened, and I heard Mrs. Horton enter. "Fubar - Louis - told me you didn't go to dinner. For some reason, he's very worried about you."

"I'm not hungry," I answered softly. "I had a late lunch."

"You should go over to get some dinner before the serving line closes," she admonished me.

I just shook my head. "I'm not hungry." I didn't know how much of my reaction was due to stubborn self-pity, and how much was due to really not being hungry. I suspected it was more of the former, my old fear of being socially rejected actually paralyzing me against doing something about fitting in and finding new friends.

"Louis said you'd probably say that. You can always go a bit later if you get hungry. Since you aren't going to dinner, I've got someone here to take you over to meet with Dr. Bellows. He said that it's your first mandatory counseling sessions."

I slowly rolled over and reluctantly sat up, knowing that I couldn't fight Mrs. Horton on this one, or I'd get kicked out of Poe for missing my counseling sessions. And now I was pissing off teachers and staff members by making them stay late for me. Just fucking great!

Mrs. Horton was looking at the picture on my wall. "That's a nice picture of you and Debra," she said with a smile. "The camera is very kind to you."

I sighed. "We - Debra and Wish List and I - posed for some pictures while I was staying with them. It was fun." I could feel my voice choking. "I miss them already."

"Where did you find a white buffalo?"

I didn't even look up. "That's Tatanka, one of my spirits. I can manifest him if I want. He's like an overgrown puppy dog, even if he claims he's not." I had Tatanka manifest for a few moments in St. Bernard size, startling Mrs. Horton, but she quickly decided that he was cute, even though she treated him warily.

"I'll have to give her a call and see if she'll e-mail me copies of some of the other pictures," Mrs. Horton said, in a manner that wasn't clear if she was teasing or not. "She's a good person to have as a friend."

I nodded. "She's ... she's special. I miss her."

"How did you two meet?" Mrs. Horton asked conversationally, her curiosity piqued by my comments as we walked to the stairs and down to the main entryway of the cottage.

"Mom and I were trying to find someplace safe from the MCO, and we were directed to the Sioux Falls League. They were nice and everything, but we weren't friends yet. I ... I have some trust issues, I guess. Anyway, we got caught in the middle of a robbery, and there was a fight and Debra was hurt really bad, and Wakan Tanka ...."

"Wakan Tanka?"

"My other spirit. She's a great Lakota magic user and stuff. Anyway, she guided me through a healing spell to save Debra. Mr. Lodgeman said that even he probably couldn't have saved her."

"Charlie Lodgeman, a shaman, couldn't have saved her, and you did?" Mrs. Horton whistled in appreciation of my healing power. Mr. Lodgeman was apparently well known as a powerful healer, matching what I'd been told. If he couldn't have healed Debra, but I did .... I saw a glimmer of respect in her eyes.

"Yeah. Anyway, to help her heal, I ... had to dream-walk with Debra several times to keep her calm and focused, and, well ...."

"I take it from your blushing that dream-walking can be kind of ... personal?"

"Yeah," I said, looking down so she wouldn't guess just _how_ intimate I felt about Debra. "So you could say we're kind of close friends."

"Like I said, she's a sweet girl. But back to business - let's get you over to Dr. Bellows before he and Louis get even more worried."

"How did he know that I wasn't at dinner?"

Mrs. Horton chuckled. "Louis Geintz is the most powerful psychic in the western hemisphere, possibly the entire world. He knows just about everything that goes on around campus." She reached out a hand and tugged me, reluctant though I was, to my feet.

In the hallway stood a taller, Japanese girl; there was something about her which didn't feel right. Her skin seemed lifeless, and she didn't seem to be focusing on me even though she was looking directly at me.

"She is wanagi, a ghost spirit," Wakan Tanka told me, sounding quite concerned. "You must be very careful with wanagi!"

"This is Jinn Sinclair, also known as Shroud. She'll take you over to meet with Dr. Bellows over in Hawthorne," Mrs. Horton introduced and explained.

"Nice to meet you, Jinn," I said, trying to be enthusiastic even though I didn't feel that way. "I'm Kayda."

"Nice to meet you, too," Jinn answered. Her voice seemed a little strange, matching her mannerisms, and she was more than a bit reserved in her greeting.

Since it was a nice fall afternoon, we strolled leisurely to the core of the campus. I was only too familiar with this area from my earlier misadventures, and thus somewhat nervous.

"Word is that you got Hardass' panties in a bunch this afternoon," Jinn said, trying to be conversant.

"I guess so," I replied dead-pan. From then nickname she'd used to refer to Ms. Hartford, I gathered that Jinn wasn't fond of her either.

"The rumor is that you were assaulted by Cagliostro, and Hardass tried to ramrod you into Hawthorne, but Sam and Mrs. Carson blocked her."

"Yeah, that's about it." No sense in denying what had happened, especially if the rumors were already all over campus.

"Sam is very fair. And Mrs. Carson is too, even though she can be kind of harsh at times. I suppose she has to be to be headmistress around here," Jinn laughed. "Are you the girl that Mr. Lodgeman flew out to meet a couple of weeks ago? Because if you were, it would explain why Hardass is on your case."

I frowned, slowly digesting the information from Jinn. "Yeah, I guess that's me. Why would that matter to Ms. Hartford?"

Jinn laughed. "She's got some kind of hate going for him, and she takes it out on any students he sponsors or advises. She tried to get my roommate Billie transferred to Hawthorne last fall. She tried to push around Ayla, too, and she's been a pain in the rear to most of Team Kimba."

"Why?" Something occurred to me; I'd heard that name before. "And what's Team Kimba?"

"Some people are just born bitchy, I guess," Jinn answered with a curious smile. "If it makes you feel any better, being on Hardass' bad side puts you in good company. In our case, it didn't help that we made monkeys out of her precious Alphas a few times last year." She smiled. "Team Kimba is our training team. Nikki, Billie, me, Jade, Hank, Toni, and Ayla. We met as freshmen last fall when we first got here, and the team just sort of gelled." She chuckled. "Some people in administration and security don't like us a lot, because, well, things happen when we're around."

"Oh?"

Jinn laughed aloud. "It seems like every time we went to Boston last year, we tangled with some major supervillains. We've had our share of problems on campus, too. Everyone wants to knock off the toughest group, and a lot of folks think we're it, so we kind of have a target on our backs." Jinn glanced around, and then leaned closer. "And we're all Poesies, so you know what that means. That tends to draw some negative attention sometimes, too, but mostly because everyone believes the cover story, which is that we're are all a bit nuts like all the Poesies. It'd be worse if people actually knew what being a Poesie was all about."

We arrived at Dr. Bellows' office, and judging by the lack of staff in the area, he was staying late, probably for my sake, which made me feel bad about interrupting his private life. I was ushered into his office immediately. He was older with graying hair, and he had an unlit pipe clenched between his teeth. "Kayda, will you be okay walking back on your own, or would you like Jinn to wait?"

I glanced at Jinn nervously. "I'll be okay," I said with some hesitation. I didn't want to put out _another_ Poe girl and get an even worse reputation as someone impossible to deal with.

Jinn must have somehow sensed my emotions, because she sat down in a chair outside the office, ignoring my suggestion. Dr. Bellows gestured for me to take a seat, and he took another. The chairs not at his desk were arranged for conversation, not for formal meetings, which seemed natural for a counselor. "Before we begin, I have to tell you that I'm an empath, and can sense feelings if I touch someone. I'm not a telepath. My job is to counsel you to help you overcome problems and issues. Everything we do is confidential. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes. So what do you want to know about me? Besides what you already know, that is. I mean, you've probably seen all my files and stuff, especially after ...." I looked down, embarrassed by the incident.

Dr. Bellows smiled. "Don't worry about that. Just about every student has an incident or two with security."

"On their first day, within three hours of coming on campus?"

Dr. Bellows laughed. "Usually it's not that quick. But Whateley is unusual in that regard, because we school mutants with various powers, and the students tend to experiment with their capabilities. Almost every student gets a chance for a personal meeting with security. It's not at all a social stigma to have spent time talking to security. You just happened to catch the attention of a few students who lack ... common sense." He sighed. "Cagliostro ... has some issues, and it tends to get him in trouble. But we're not here to talk about him. We're here to talk about your issues."

"Like what?" I know I sounded a little defensive.

"We could start with how you feel about your gender change, or why I get the strong feeling that you have a negative self-image. Louis also mentioned that you have a very strong fear of being isolated socially," Dr. Bellows said casually, as if he was discussing the weather instead of my issues. He smiled. "Louis reported all of that from today's earlier psychic evaluation. So how about if we start with the thing that's most on your mind right now?"

I sighed, relieved that I didn't have to repeat the psychic probe, but a little alarmed that the information would have been shared with anyone else. Then again, Dr. Bellows was a counselor, so if anyone got Mr. Geintz's findings, it would be him. "I suppose I have to tell you since this is mandatory, right?"

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want. But it will help to talk about it and find a way for you to get over your fears and anxieties."

After a few awkward seconds, I began, "I think the worst thing," I said hesitantly, "is that I'm all alone, again. I'm late to start school, and I can already see that friendships and social groups have formed, and I've heard that all the campus groups have rushed new members already, so I'm an outsider, and I'll never fit in, especially after I got in trouble on my first day." My eyes started misting as I suddenly babbled forth my feelings.

"Why does that scare you so much?"

"Because ... because," I stiffened, weeping, "the last time I was the new kid, I was bullied and shut out of all the group and teams and stuff - for over a year." I buried my face in my hands, shaking as I cried. "I ... I was so lonely, and everyone made fun of me and bullied me, and it hurt so much. It wouldn't stop hurting. Mom and Dad never knew, because the bullies threatened me, so I had to try to deal with it myself, but I didn't know how. I ... I sometimes wanted to curl up somewhere and die."

"Feeling like you're alone hurts more than most people know," Dr. Bellows said sympathetically. "You can't let yourself be paralyzed because of it. If you do, you'll never be able to take actions to keep it from being a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"But ... now I'm stuck being the new kid again. The weird one, the latecomer who doesn't fit in. I'm the outsider, and now I'm a trouble-maker, too."

"You're anticipating the worst-case scenario, and getting yourself worried and anxious about it. It's called anticipatory anxiety, and it can become debilitating by paralyzing you and creating self-fulfilling situations. One thing you can do, as you think about these outcomes, is to ask yourself a few key questions. First, what is the likelihood of the situation occurring. If you spend all your energy worrying about an outcome that is highly unlikely, you'll miss opportunities in other areas because you're too focused on a potential problem. Second, is there anything you can do to alter the outcome? If there are steps you can take to avoid a result, then you can focus the preventative steps and not on the bad ending. Third, how much will an outcome affect you in the big picture, in the grand scheme of things?"

"As I told you, Wihakayda," Tatanka reminded me none-too-gently, "you must learn from Ceda, the hawk. How does he view the world?"

I hung my head at Tatanka's words. "He looks at the big picture."

"As you must. The shaman you speak with is wise. Heed his advice."

Dr. Bellows noticed that I seemed to have lost focus. "Do you understand, Kayda?" he asked gently but firmly.

A heavy sigh escaped me. "I just had one of my ... spirits ... remind me of the lessons of Ceda, the hawk spirit, and how what I'm supposed to learn from him is exactly what you just said."

"It's nice that _someone_ agrees with me," he said with a chuckle. "You'll only be an outsider if you _want_ to be the outsider. _You_ have control over whether you get to know other students and your dorm-mates, right? This is a big school, not like your hometown school, and there are lots of groups. New kids come all the time. Friendships and groups form, expand, and change all the time."

I stared at him for a few moments. "You make it sound so easy, but it's not," I finally answered softly.

"I didn't say it would be easy," Dr. Bellows corrected my misconception of what he'd said, "only that you have control over getting to know people. Would you want to befriend someone who's always sulking and pouting and feeling sorry for herself?"

"I guess not."

"Exactly. And it doesn't help that you're also not used to your change yet, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's why you're in Poe. There are a lot of students in Poe who understand exactly what you're going through. You _need_ that support. You'll be seeing me thrice a week for several weeks for counseling, but your peers in Poe understand a lot better than any counselor what you've gone through and what you're going to be going through. You _need_ to get to know the ones in Poe who can help you."

"But ... I've noticed that ... groups have already formed. And Debra told me that most campus groups rush new members in the first couple of week, so I missed that, too."

"First things first - you need to get to know your cottage mates, especially the freshmen. If I know Mrs. Horton, she'll arrange something so you can meet the other girls."

"I'll try," I answered reluctantly. "But I'm already getting a reputation as a trouble-maker," I added. "I remember in my last school; no-one wanted to hang around the trouble-makers."

Dr. Bellows and I continued to talk for almost forty-five minutes, and by the time I left, I felt like there might be a little hope. Maybe. I still wasn't very confident that I could put into action what he recommended so I wouldn't feel sorry for myself, but to take an active role in socializing. Jinn walked me back to Poe, where I could hear the noise of the residents coming back from the dining hall. Despite Dr. Bellow's counseling, it was extremely difficult, and awkward, to say even a simple 'hi' to some of the other kids I met. It was difficult to not feel left out, especially when two or three girls were walking on the path talking until I got near and their conversation ceased, we exchanged awkward greetings, and then their conversation resumed once I passed. And despite my protestations to Mrs. Horton to the contrary, I _was_ starting to feel a bit hungry.

I lay down on my bed, facing the wall, wondering if I'd like my roommate, if she'd like me, or frankly, if I even cared. I really missed Debra and my family. I felt like an intruder in friendly hallway talk. It was intimidating to know that I'd already started a reputation as a trouble-maker. But I had to fight those depressing thoughts. Tatanka, Ceda, and Dr. Bellows all agreed that I needed to focus on the big picture. At that moment, the big picture didn't include lying around moping and feeling sorry for myself. Still, it was hard to not worry when my introduction to the school had been so rocky.

A knock sounded at my door again, interrupting my morose thoughts. "Kayda?" It was some girl I whose voice I didn't recognize.

"Come in," I replied without moving as the door opened.

"Mrs. Horton said I should tell you that you're late for your tour," the girl said.

"Oh, crap!" I rolled over, chiding myself for earning yet another black mark. I found myself staring at a stunningly-beautiful, tall, lithe, blonde-haired beauty with sapphire-blue eyes. "Uh, I didn't realize what time it was."

"You're the new girl, aren't you?" she asked knowingly. "I'm Zenith. Let's get going; Jade is waiting for you, and the way she pulls pranks, I wouldn't want to be on her bad side." She grinned as she said this, but I shuddered. Yet another person I'd pissed off.

As we walked, I introduced myself. "Im Kayda Franks."

"Yeah, I know," Zenith said confidently. "You're technically a sophomore, too, but they have you in a lot of Freshman-level classes dealing with mutations."

Her recitation of data intimidated me. "Uh, how much do you know?" I asked nervously.

"Enough," Zenith said with an enigmatic grin. "By the way, I'm the cottage's 'Fixer'. If you need anything or are having problems, I can probably help out."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said as we descended the stairs to the ground floor.

Zenith strode directly to a shorter Japanese girl, who looked to be about eleven. "Jade, this is Kayda. She's in your hands. Don't scare her ... too much," she added with a grin before turning to go back upstairs.

I looked over the girl. She was a few inches short of being five-feet tall, with long, straight, black hair that she wore down over part of her face, as if hiding her looks. I held out my hand formally, but rigidly. "Pleased to meet you." My words were clipped, and I couldn't quite look at her eye-to-eye.

"Everyone says that you're trying to break our record for trouble-making," Jade said with a grin. I flinched at her reminder of what had, so far, been a lousy day. "You should fit in well around here, then." She smiled enigmatically. "Jinn is my sister. She told me about you." She started to walk, but then turned suddenly. "Jinn's dead, by the way. Sort of. It's ... weird."

"Yeah," I said uncertainly. Her comment had made me even more nervous.

"This girl is connected to the wanagi," Wakan Tanka warned me. "And she has some of the spirit of sungmanitu, the trickster coyote. Do not ever underestimate her."

Since it was still winter, it was already dark outside, which meant that there were few students outside. Jade was an enthusiastic tour guide, showing me much of the campus. Her energy and enthusiasm were kind of infectious; I was getting in a better mood as we talked.

We went to the admin building, where I'd already been earlier in the day, to a place called the Homer Gallery. There was a picture of Lord Paramount, and apparently it was required that every incoming student see the picture on the first day. There was also a pile of gold, meant as some kind of weird statement by a very wealthy alumnus. We stopped briefly in Crystal Hall, the main dining hall for students, and Jade insisted that I get a sandwich or something, since she somehow knew that I hadn't gone to dinner. I was surprised yet again to see that the dining hall was serving food long after normal dining hours; Jade noticed my shock and laughed, telling me that at Whateley, someone was almost always eating, so the caf was almost always serving something.

After that, we went underground to tour tunnels, labs, ranges, and combat arenas. I was quite intimidated by the combat arenas and the physical ed facilities. I was NOT looking forward to the martial arts classes Debra had warned me about. After almost two hours of touring about the campus, mostly in the dens and warrens of the labyrinthine subterranean maze, we returned to Poe, where Jade finished the tour by showing me the common rooms and explaining their use. She also took me to the bathroom, where she enigmatically pointed out that the girls seemed to love the showers that were a gift from Ayla. A couple of girls in the bathroom giggled at her comment as they looked at me, but I decided not to pursue the issue at that time, not sure if the giggling was an inside joke at my expense or not.

After thanking Jade, I went back to my room, almost dreading meeting my roommate. I was worried that she'd had a single room but now had to share, and would thus see me as an imposition. Fortunately, or not, she wasn't in the room, so the introductions would wait.

Since it wasn't too late, I called Debra and spent over an hour talking with her. She was curious how my first day had gone, and I was practically in tears by the time I finished recounting the trouble I was having, including the security incident. She thought it was quite amusing, and told me not to worry about it, because most kids got to personally meet security. I was still worried; it was my first day, word had already gotten around, and I'd gotten a few interesting looks while Jade was showing me around.

After we hung up, and my roommate still hadn't made an appearance, I decided that I might as well get ready for bed. Grabbing my bag of toiletries, I went to the bathroom. Three other girls were already at the sinks, chatting in a carefree, happy manner. Their conversation paused when they spotted me, making me feel very conspicuous and out of place, like I was intruding on their space.

"Hi," I managed to stammer, remembering what Dr. Bellows and I had talked about. It was difficult to force myself to overcome my reluctance and self-consciousness, especially knowing that these girls were already acquainted, if not friends. "I'm Kayda." I tried to smile, without a lot of success.

One of the girls, a very attractive girl with dark-haired that bore a red stripe in it, merely nodded, while a shorter, Asian girl with straight black hair replied. "You must be the new girl that everyone's talking about. I'm Chou."

"People are talking about me?" I asked, my eyes widening in surprise.

"The third girl laughed. "Yeah. How did you manage to put Truck in the hospital? He's a freakin' brick!" She looked like a blonde bimbo with more than her fair share of curves, but there was definite intelligence in her blue eyes. She held out her hand to me. "I'm Bunny."

"You'd better watch it, though," the first girl said with a grin, "or you'll end up with a UV armband if you make a habit out of beating up bricks."

"UV? What's that?" I asked, being reminded how little I knew about Whateley, even compared to this year's freshman class.

"Ultraviolent," Bunny said with a smile. Was this girl ever not smiling or happy? "It's in your handbook."

"Just remember that we're on your side if you decide you need to hit someone," Chou chuckled. In any normal school, Chou would have been rated an eleven. Here, though, after that girls I'd seen in Poe and while on the tour, she was only a nine or nine-and-a-half.. Still, she had a sweet innocence about her, and she had that mysterious Asian thing going for her.

"Yeah. By the way, I'm Elena, but I prefer to be called Riptide, or Rip for short. My full name is kinda long; it's Elena Neva Natividad Amicella Lucita Obregonand. My mom had a thing for making sure we stuck all my aunt's names in mine so in case they get rich and there's something to inherit, they remember that I'm named after them and are generous. I'm from California. Redondo Beach, actually, and my parents run a beachfront shop for surfing and stuff, so it's kind of like fate that I'm a water energizer," Rip said in a sentence that could have easily been split into five separate theme papers of two pages each. She was quite shapely, and she had the bronzed skin tone and facial features that screamed of her Hispanic ancestry, except for her ice-blue eyes. Had I still been a guy, I could have stared at her all day and not gotten bored. But like Bunny, she had an appreciative twinkle in her gaze, so even if I had been a guy, I doubted that I'd have _ever_ been able to capture her attention, since I guessed that she was another of the cottage's lesbians.

"Next time you need to kick some jerk's ass, let us know so we can come," Bunny said with a grin. "I'd love to watch." The others chuckled their agreement, not noticing my lower lip trembling from how the statement stung me.

This introduction had not gone as well as I'd hoped. As I feared, people already thought of me as a trouble-maker around campus, or at last around the cottage, and these girls whom I hadn't even met acted like it was a big joke. I grabbed my stuff and walked past them to my room, collapsing onto my bed. This day had been almost a total complete disaster, and even my attempts at polite introductions with other Poesies hadn't gone well.

I don't know how much later it was, but I was still lying in bed, reflecting on my catastrophic day and fighting tears, when I heard the door opening. Light poured into the darkened room from the hallway as two girls entered.

"I thought you had a single room," a girl said in surprise.

"I did," a second replied, sounding a little less than pleased. "But I was supposed to get a new roommate today, and it looks like she's here already, and asleep." Her voice was hushed as she came in and closed the door. She turned on a small lamp on her desk. "Here are my notes. You can give them back to me in class tomorrow."

"Sure." The first girl sighed. "Your roomie hasn't even unpacked, and her junk is all over the place."

"Well," the second girl, my new roommate, sighed, "I hope she'll get everything straightened out tomorrow. I've always been a little OCD about a messy room."

"Is she the one that beat up Cagliostro and Truck?" the first girl asked. "I heard she thumped them pretty good before security hauled her away."

"That's what I heard, too." My roommate sighed. "I hope she's not a UV. That's all I'd need!" she said sarcastically, before changing the subject. "Are you going to the movie tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. Maybe the Outcasts will behave themselves this time. And afterwards, if your roommate is out ..."

My roommate chuckled softly. "That would be great." I could tell that she was suggesting that the two of them could spend some 'private time' together if I wasn't in the room after the movie. As the first girl left, I heard the distinct sound of lips exchanging a kiss, and then the door closed.

I lay on my bed, unmoving, sullen, and silent, fighting tears, as the first girl left, and then my roommate picked up her toiletries and went to the bathroom. Even my family's previous move hadn't been as emotionally traumatic as this first day had been. Nothing was going right, and now I had a roommate whose first impression of me wasn't good. Not good at all.

A while later, as I lay quietly on a pillow, I heard my roommate come back in. She was moving quietly, until she suddenly stopped. I stilled my breathing.

"I'm a receptive empath," the girl said out of the blue, flipping the light switch on, "It's no use trying to fool me, because I can tell you're awake." She turned on the light.

I decided to just lie unmoving on my bed anyway. I hadn't liked what she and her friend had said about me while they thought I was sleeping before. It had hurt me emotionally when the insinuated that I was a trouble-maker, messy, and possibly ultra-violent. This nightmare of a day just wouldn't end, but insisted on tormenting me more.

I heard my roommate sit heavily on her bed. "I'm sorry if some of the things we said hurt you. I didn't mean to." She sounded apologetic. If she really _was_ an empath, then she'd probably picked up my hurt feelings from the comments they'd made.

I turned partially over and glared at her. "Yeah? Well, you did." I wasn't acting rationally, but instead lashing out in hurt and frustration of my really shitty day. I made a point of flopping over again, turning my back to her.

"Damn," I heard her mumble to herself, probably not intending that I heard. "I really screwed that up, didn't I?" She sighed heavily; she probably knew through her empathy how hurt I felt inside from my whole day, and from her and her friend's comments. She'd been upset, and had tried to apologize, but I'd snubbed her on that in my own self-pity and misery.

I thought about what had just happened, and about what Tatanka and Dr. Bellows had told me. It was up to me to control whether I felt alone or not. I could let the bad first impression continue, on both of our parts, in which case we'd probably have a very tough time for the rest of the year, or I could accept her apology and reset things so we could try to be at least cordial. After an agonizing internal debate for several long seconds, I forced myself to roll back over and sit up, surprising her. "I'm Kayda Franks," I said, nervous about whether she'd reject me again.

Relief visibly flooded her feature. "I'm Evelyn, also known as Evvie or Punch," she said, trying to smile. She had a warm smile that she wore well.

Evvie's face could have been carved on any master's sculptural masterpiece, or captured on a canvas of Da Vinci, which meant that she was probably an exemplar. A delicate touch of olive in her tint gave her a warm, soft complexion that was the ideal of slightly-exotic, passionate Italian health. Her eyes glowed with a zest for life, a radiating warmth that would melt a glacier and the heart of any but the coldest of men with but a glance. Evvie's hair was thick and mousy-brown, cut relatively short in a sexy but low-maintenance style. From how she sat, I couldn't see all of her body, but if her ample bosom was any indication, her body would be fought for by many a desirous would-be lover. She was a little more solid than most of the girls I'd met in Poe, but by no means was she fat. Instead, she looked muscular, like she worked out constantly and had her body toned and developed. In many ways, it was unfair to her to have to attend a school where the standard of beauty was stratospherically high. Evvie was very cute, and attractive in her own right, but not the way many shallow people would consider her beauty.

"I'm from Little Italy in Chicago, on the Near West Side. I'm on a scholarship from the Windy City Guardians." Her dulcet voice had an innocent, yet seductive quality, a magical harmony that by even without her invitingly kissable lips would stir anguish in the hearts of men who'd heard her speaking but once and longed desperately to listen to her melodious voice once more.

My eyebrows rose. "That's a coincidence. Mom and I got some help from them on our trip here!" I suddenly felt a little less nervous talking with my new roommate. "My friends in the Sioux Falls League arranged for them to help us if something happened, and, as the fates would have it, our car broke down in Chicago. One of the Guardians came by to help us out."

Evvie's eyes widened at my comment. "No shit? Do you know who helped you?" She sounded intrigued by my statement, not wary. Something had piqued her interest.

"Yeah," I answered. "He called himself Wing Nut."

"You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding!" Evvie squealed with delight. "Wing Nut is my oldest brother! When I talked to him the other day, he told me he helped a girl on her way here. That was you?" She saw my smile. "He said he'd helped you out with some car problems and some MCO problems, too?"

I winced. "Yeah. The Sioux Falls MCO office had it in for me. Your brother helped me with the Chicago MCO office to get things straightened out. He was really nice."

"Well, _you_ made a huge impression on him," she giggled. "He was going on and on about how an absolutely gorgeous mutant girl needed his help on her way here, and he was so happy to be able to save the day for you, and that if I bumped into you here, I should make sure that I told you 'hi' from him!" she chuckled aloud. "Wait until I tell him that you're my roommate!"

I laughed at the mental image of that phone conversation. I continued, my voice a little softer. "Did you change ... like me?"

Evvie shook her head. "Nah. I'm just a girl who never got into the girl-guy thing." Her brow wrinkled, echoing her sudden concern. "That won't be a problem for you, will it? I mean, rooming with a girl you know might be ... admiring your body?"

"From what Debra told me, I knew that it might be a possibility, so yeah, I guess I'm okay with it. Just as long as you try to be discrete and keep your hands off." I grinned. "I have a _very_ jealous girlfriend."

Evvie decided to change the subject. "How long ago did you change? I'd imagine that, for a boy, the worst thing would be having a period. I think _I_ would love changing if it were me, even with periods, because the thought of having those nasty ... things ... around is disgusting!"

"Not quite a month," I said, wincing at her comment. "And I hadn't had a period yet, but both Mom and Debra warned me that I'd get one soon." I cringed. "I am _so_ not looking forward to that!" Based on when I'd changed, that was probably going to happen _very_ soon.

Evvie noticed. "I take it you're completely changed?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It was really quick, too. I was going to school one morning when I manifested. Usual story - manifest, pass out, have your former friends try to kill you." I saw her eyes go wide. "Twice. I'm a regenerator, and my spirit is a great Lakota shaman, so I healed from all the broken bones pretty quickly, but using all that power caused me to have a burnout, which made my transformation faster since I'm a regenerator. In about six days, I finished changing."

"Wow! Your friends tried to kill you?" She shook her head. "That's gotta really suck." She decided to change the subject to something a little more pleasant. "So, what do you do?" Evvie asked. "I'm a basic TK brick and an empath."

"Compared to that, I'm nothing special. I'm an avatar, I regenerate, and I've got a little bit of healing magic." I thought of trying something. "Oh, and I can call one of my spirits to manifest." I had Tatanka manifest in his St. Bernard size, startling Evvie. I scratched under his chin. "He's harmless and cuddly." He snorted when I called him cuddly. "Mostly."

"Unless one is a brick trying to get your attention through unfair means?" Evvie asked. "Is he how you knocked Truck around?"

"How ... how many people know about that?" I stammered. I knew that news would travel, but I didn't expect anything this fast.

Evvie laughed. "Most of the campus. It's not every day that someone single-handedly takes down a brick and a projective telepath. That's no small feat." She was tentatively scratching behind Tatanka's ears, to his obvious delight. "Some of us," she grinned, "pay attention to things like that out of selfish interest. Besides, it was a slow-news day."

I sighed heavily. "Great. Just what I need - a reputation as a trouble-maker."

Evvie must have sensed my discomfort with the subject, because she abruptly changed topics. "Who's that with you in the poster?" she asked, looking admiringly at the personalized picture that Debra had given me.

I couldn't help smiling. "That's Cornflower, er, Debra."

"She's pretty."

"Yes, she is," I practically purred, thinking not of the poster but of hugging Debra, or kissing her. I suppose I seemed a little lost in my own world.

"I can tell she's pretty special to you," Evvie said with a wink and a grin.

I blushed; with her empathy, she'd probably easily picked up my feelings toward Debra as I thought about her. "You could say that." The reminder was just what I needed; I would have to dream-walk with Debra that night if possible.

Evvie laughed. "Well, my brother is certainly going to be disappointed by _that_ piece of news."

I scowled at Wakan Tanka as she sat so peacefully on the bluff, her long hair gently teased by the breeze as the setting sun caressed her cheeks. I started to speak, but she held up a hand to still me. For some time, we sat in silenced, save for the gentle rustling of the grasses, reveling in the gloriously-painted canvas that was the evening sky.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she turned to me. "What troubles your spirit, Wihakayda?" she asked.

The meditation had calmed me, as I suspect Wakan Tanka had known it would. "I am ... alone. I have no friends, and it ... hurts."

Wakan Tanka shook her head. "Have you learned nothing from Tatanka? Was he not teaching you of the animal spirits?" I heard and felt Tatanka coming over the crest of the bluff toward us.

"Which spirits teach you of these situations?" Tatanka asked as he lay down beside me. His white fur was tinted with crimson and orange from the setting sun.

I thought a moment. "Pispiza?" I asked hesitantly.

"Why?"

"Because pispiza is part of a community, and is connected to those around him for safety and comfort."

"So it is with you. You must be like pispiza and become part of a community. By himself, pispiza is vulnerable. With his community, he is strong." He shut up.

I sat, thinking.

"What of the girl Evvie you share a dwelling with? Is she not being friendly to you? Did she not apologize for hurting your feelings? Was she interested in you and your background?"

I sighed, feeling my cheeks flush with shame. "Yeah, I guess," I answered, knowing that my spirit-mentor was not going to let me get away with feeling sorry for myself. At least not this time. I was frustrated by how often my pessimistic view of the world was being shattered by accurate alternate views from those around me, like Wakan Tanka and Tatanka. And Dr. Bellows. And Mrs. Carson. And Chief Delarose. And Mrs. Horton.

Homestake Paranormal Activity Research Center

Dr. Ernst Schmidt paced nervously on the raised platform, waiting for the pneumatic shuttle from the Native American college to arrive. He glanced at his watch, again, knowing that only a few seconds had passed since the last glace, but he couldn't help his nervous affectation. He turned to repeat the thirty-seven steps to the opposite end of the small platform.

A hum, accompanied by a sudden stiff breeze, announced that a pneumatic pod was arriving. Ernst stopped pacing, glanced once more at his watch, and watched down the smooth tunnel as a small pod popped into view and then began to slow, losing speed until it turned into one of the 'parking spots' and smoothly halted. Ernst stepped quickly to the pod as the door opened, offering his hand to help the passenger disembark. A large, thick envelope was clutched tightly in her hands.

"What brings you here, Hazel?" Ernst asked as his Native American counterpart.

Hazel Two Bears glanced around, making it very clear that her discussion was not for a public forum. "It's been a while since I've been over here. Why don't you give me a tour of whatever you've changed, which I'm sure is a lot." There was a sparkle in her eye and jocularity in her voice at her joke, but beneath the fagade was a clear, unspoken message: "this discussion is very, very classified."

Several minutes later, in a deep level of the HPARC, Hazel and Ernst walked into a small, well-appointed conference room, and after Ernst closed the door, they sat. On the table was a strange looking device; Ernst pushed a couple of buttons and an LED on the device turned green. Ernst looked at Hazel, and he visibly winced. "What have you got for me?"

Hazel put the envelope she'd been carrying on the table, one hand still touching it. "If you would, please?" she asked.

Ernst knew the procedure. He placed his hand on the envelope, which caused a tingling sensation to go through his fingers and some strange markings on the paper glowed. Only then did Hazel take her hand off the envelope.

With narrowed eyes, Ernst pulled the envelope's flap open, and then pulled out a folder. On first glance, the folder contents seemed a milange of reports, speculation, test results, and other assorted paperwork. He looked at it again, and then lifted his gaze to Hazel. "I presume you found something."

Hazel nodded. "And you're _really_ not going to like it."

"Oh?"

"From what you told me, and from what your sensors are detecting, it appears that one of your 'captive' spirits has found a way past all your sigils and wards and psychic guards, and has been dream-walking."

"Dream-walking?" Ernst stammered, his mouth hanging open. From his grad-school classes in anthropology and paranormal events and beings in Native American cultures, he knew what dream-walking was. "Our wards and guards should stop that."

"Nevertheless," Hazel insisted, "something downstairs is dream walking. And from your list of captive bad stuff, you better hope and pray that it's not Unhcegila."

Kayda's Hometown, Eastern South Dakota

The old, dilapidated pickup glided to a halt outside the hamburger shop. Inside the truck, two men sat silently, watching the front of the popular teen hangout, and the parking lot beside it. Despite the chilly evening air, they were dressed in only down vests over their flannel shirts. One wore his long dark hair in a braid, while the other wore his in a simple ponytail. For a long time, they watched, until two boys and three girls strode out of the shop. With a few happy words of parting, they split into two groups - one boy with his girl wrapped in his arm walked toward a souped-up car, while the other guy escorted his two female companions in the other direction.

One of the two men glanced at the other, his expression asking the question in complete silence. The other man gave a single, firm nod in response. The first man, behind the steering wheel, turned the key and restarted the engine.

The car with the couple eased onto the main highway through town, and casually rolled through the town. There were no stoplights in this small municipality; only stop-signs gave unquestioned right-of-way to the highway. The pickup followed the car, two to three blocks behind.

With no idea that they were being followed, the couple pulled off the main street onto a side street, and after another turn, eased into a driveway. The pickup didn't take the turn, but drove past, the eyes of its occupants following the car's location with eagle-sharp eyes. When they knew that the car had stopped, the pickup circled, turned off the lights, and then idled back to where the occupants could watch the car they were tailing. For nearly twenty minutes, during which the teen couple engaged in a little spit-swapping in the car, the two men sat impassively and silently.

After what would have been an intolerable and cold wait for most, but which the men stoically endured, the sound of a car door thunking shut broke the evening silence, followed shortly thereafter by the throaty rumble of the heavily modified engine. The men in the pickup watched as the car backed into the street and then drove away. The pickup eased onto the street, and with the headlights still out, followed the car through the side streets.

With the truck still without headlights, it followed the car on the highway out of town, and then onto a gravel road. Still apparently clueless that he was being followed, the driver of the car pulled off the gravel road into a farmyard. The pickup drove past the farmyard and then eased off the gravel road onto a drive into a field.

The two men slipped out of the truck, then walked with an unbelievable fluidity to the fence line, and then crept along the fence back toward the farmhouse. In moments, they were crouched by a tree on the inside small belt of trees surrounding the farmyard. They watched and waited, seeing a light come on in an upstairs window, and after a while, going out. Still, they watched the house.

Nearly thirty minutes after the last light went out, the pair resumed stalking toward the house. One of the men boosted the other up onto the snow-covered roof of a porch, where he crept toward a specific window, while his partner slipped to the car they'd been following and, using a tool he retrieved from inside his vest, he jimmied the lock open. A small jar emerged from in his vest, which he placed on the dashboard. A note was taped to the steering wheel, and then the man slipped back out of the car, locking it as he silently closed the door.

The first man cautiously removed the outer storm window, and then slid a thin tool up between the sashes to unlock the inner window. That done, he eased the lower sash open, and eased himself into the house.

The boy slept, completely unaware that there was an intruder in his room. With a wicked grin, the man extracted a small bowl from inside his vest, and then poured the contents of a small vial, two lumpy, damp objects, into the bowl, which he set on the nightstand beside the boy's bed. A piece of leather with symbols burned into it, was set beside the bowl, and then the man stole from the room, reversing his actions until he was on the roof. The downspout from the upper story and a grounding cable from a lightning rod provided handholds for the man to get to the ground.

Exchanging looks of triumph, the two slipped back through the sheltering trees, along the fence, and into their pickup. In the brief interior lighting while the door was open, the men were more clearly seen. The outstanding feature, which would have startled anyone who saw the sight, was the war paint that decorated the men's faces. As the truck drove back onto the highway, the men whooped with the distinctive triumphant cries of their tribe.

Friday, March 16, 2007
Whateley Academy

I woke quite early, feeling a little better. Meeting Evvie had gone better than I'd expected, especially with the unusual connection through her brother. Dream-walking with Debra was wonderful; we swam in a lake in the Black Hills and had a picnic together. And my spirit-mentors really made me think. Despite a rocky start the day before, I was actually looking forward to getting started here because my spirits had helped me reset my attitude. Last night, Evvie and I had planned a shopping trip to the bookstore after I met with my class counselor, so I could get books, uniforms, school supplies, snacks, and other things I might need on my half of the room.

I was smiling when I went into the bathroom for my morning shower. There were only half a dozen girls in the bathroom, not all of whom were showering, so I was first in line. I'd noticed two signs outside the showers, so while I was waiting, I took time to read them.

I didn't understand the inherent message behind these signs, and when I'd stared at the them questioningly, a girl named Heather giggled and said that she'd be happy to teach me about the special shower feature whenever I wanted, which caused a couple of the girls who were lined up behind me to giggle as well. My eyes widened, probably considerably, as it dawned on me what the 'special feature' probably was, as well as the meaning of the none-too-subtle invitation. I blushed so hard my toenails were red, which caused even more giggling at my embarrassment.

A shower opened up, so I stepped in and began to wash quickly because the line was getting longer, and I didn't want to be one causing delays and getting even _more_ girls mad at me. When I finished, I stepped out and dodged around the first girl in line as I wrapped a towel around my body. The girl was about my height, and pretty well-endowed, with punk-length dark hair framing her cute face. I didn't know her; heck, I didn't know most of the girls in Poe, but I tried a friendly smile. As she unwrapped herself from her towel, she was watching me warily. I stepped out of the way, and happened to glance down. I think I screamed as everything went black.

Evvie

Evvie, like all the other girls in the bathroom, was startled by the terrified shriek from Kayda as she bolted from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that fell off as she ran, still screaming, her toiletries abandoned behind her as she panicked about something.

Another of the girls, Vanessa, noticed the look of horror and dismay on Ayla's face, and she frowned as the answer became instantly obvious to her. Vanessa stepped out of line and held the shaken Ayla tightly, comforting her from the rude way that the new girl had reacted. In moments, Jade joined Vanessa by Alya, worrying about their startled friend.

Fey, having nearly been run over by Kayda as Fey came into the bathroom, saw Vanessa with Ayla. As an empath, she'd felt Kayda's terror like Evvie had, and like Evvie, she also felt Ayla's enormous sense of guilt. "Ayla," Fey demanded, "what did you do to her?"

Ayla looked over Vanessa's shoulder at Fey with an expression of stunned surprise. "I didn't do _anything_!"

Evvie gawked at them in disbelief at how they were so concerned about Ayla, but didn't seem to care a whit about Kayda. "What about Kayda? Don't you give a shit about her?" she shouted at Vanessa, Jade, Ayla, and Fey. Still in her robe, she ran, angry, from the bathroom to her room, and she eased open the door to her and Kayda's room, and peeked inside. Even before the door was open a crack, she could hear the angry snorting from Kayda's buffalo, and she backed nervously away from the door.

"What happened?" Verdant asked, coming down the hall clad in her robe, reacting to the scream and noise.

Evvie shook her head. "I'm not sure. Something really spooked Kayda, and now she's got her buffalo in the middle of our room."

Verdant's eyes widened. "Her _what_?"

"Long story. Go get Mrs. Horton." As Heather hurried to the stairs, Evvie steeled herself by taking a deep breath, and peeked around the door into their room, expecting to still see the buffalo.

She'd guessed correctly; Tatanka stood squarely between the two beds, glaring at the door, pawing the floor angrily at her, and snorting. Evvie gulped, and then stepped into the room. "It's me, Tatanka," she said softly, speaking as one would to calm down a frightened or angry dog. "I'm not going to hurt you or Kayda," she continued. Seeing no reaction from the bull bison, she took a hesitant step forward, stretching out her hand toward the animal. She froze, fear-stricken, when Tatanka took a step forward. He was massive and very intimidating, a dangerous-looking bison that appeared like he could easily hurt any person in the cottage. He sniffed at her hand, and then nodded to her as if he was intelligent.

Evvie crawled slowly across her bed around Tatanka toward the window, to where Kayda sat huddled partially under her desk, curled up on her side in a fetal position, soaking wet, and shaking uncontrollably, rivulets of tears pouring from her eyes and down her face. "Kayda?" she asked hesitantly. She got no reaction, which, given Kayda's demeanor, didn't surprise her. All she could feel emotionally from Kayda was a paralyzing terror, the magnitude of which Evvie had never experienced. She flinched at the strength of emotions that Kayda was throwing out until she could get her own psychic shield up to protect herself from being overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of fright Kayda was feeling.

"Kayda?" Evvie repeated. "Are you okay?" Even though she could sense that Kayda was highly distraught, Evvie was trying to sound soothing and calming.

"No!" Kayda whimpered through her tears, over and over again, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "No! Please don't! Please, no!'

A few of the girls, notably missing Ayla, Vanessa, and Jade were standing in the doorway in their robes and towels, gawking at the sight of the angry buffalo blocking entry to the room, and Evvie squatted down beside her near-catatonic roommate.

"Step aside, girls," Mrs. Horton's voice parted the small group like the Red Sea. "What's going on?" She stepped into the room and came face-to-face with Tatanka, who was glaring at her angrily and snorting. "Kayda, can you please make your ... pet ... go away?" she insisted.

Under the desk, mostly out of sight, Kayda lay curled up in a fetal position, and whimpering 'No!' over and over. "Kayda," Mrs. Horton insisted, a little firmer this time, "please make the buffalo go away!"

After a few seconds, Mrs. Horton turned to the other girls when she saw that Kayda wasn't going to demanifest the buffalo. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Heather answered. "She came out of the shower, and then suddenly she screamed and freaked out." The other girls nodded and murmured their assent to the situation.

"Yeah, she just flipped."

Mrs. Horton tried to edge into the room, but the angry white buffalo wasn't letting her. "Evvie, can you please get something on her? She needs to get to medical."

"I'll try," Evvie responded.

"Who else was in the shower? Did someone do something to Kayda?"

There were vigorous denials that anyone had done anything.

"Uh, I think Jade and Vanessa were there, too."

"And Sharisha, and Alex," another girl offered.

"And Ayla."

Mrs. Horton's blood ran cold when she heard Ayla's name. "Dear God, no!' she muttered. "Did anyone tell Kayda about Ayla?" She saw all the heads shaking in denial. If no-one had, and if what Mrs. Carson had briefed her about was true .... "Hurry up, Evvie, we need to get her to Doyle now!"

After struggling for a bit, Evvie had a shirt and shorts on Kayda, enough to protect her modesty, but not much more. "Come on, Kayda," she said soothingly to her roommate. "Let's get up now." Using her telekinetic power, Evvie lifted Kayda off the floor, shaping the force she was applying so that the stricken girl was cradled in invisible arms.

Several girls gasped in shock at Kayda's expression. Her eyes were open, but sunken, focused on nothing, locked into the proverbial 'thousand-yard stare' symptomatic of extreme traumatic stress. She was pallid, like whatever caused the panic attack had drained most of the blood from her body, and she held her body rigidly, curled up in a protective little ball against some unseen danger.

Tatanka plodded ahead of Evvie, glaring menacingly and snorting at the girls until a path had been cleared. Doors popped open and curious faces stared out, both in the Gurlzone and in Boys-town, as the white buffalo escorted the girls.

"Take the tunnel," Mrs. Horton directed, so Evvie and Tatanka descended the steps quickly. In moments, Zenith caught up to them; Mrs. Horton had sent the older girl, just in case.

**********

Doyle Medical Center

Sally McCoy, a multi-year veteran of the emergency room of Doyle Medical Center seldom saw anything that surprised her anymore. She was too professional and too experienced with the unusual and weird that was commonplace around Whateley. However, she was startled when large white buffalo tromped into the emergency room, followed closely by two girls walking and a third cradled in mid-air between them, curled up and helpless.

"Who's the patient?" she asked, having regained her professional demeanor. She was focused on the immobile, floating ball of a girl, certain that she was being brought for some kind of medical attention. "And would someone please get that ... thing ... out of the ER!"

Zenith, having been pressed into duty as a 'responsible' elder of the cottage, sighed. "The buffalo is under Kayda's control," she explained, "and since Kayda's not responsive, she can't, or won't, do anything about it."

"Okay," Nurse McCoy answered hesitantly. This was weird, but she could handle it. "Name?"

"Kayda," Evvie said firmly. "Kayda Franks. She just moved in yesterday."

"Have you got her ID card?"

Zenith looked at Evvie, who shrugged. "I don't think she got one yet," Evvie reported. "She got tied up with security all day yesterday, and she didn't get a lot of her paperwork done."

"Wait a minute," Nurse McCoy frowned as some puzzle pieces fit together. "Is this the same girl on yesterday's security report, the one whose buffalo attacked Truck?" She frowned and pressed a button on her desk. "Security, send a detail to Doyle ER." She was sitting, glaring at the buffalo, who was also staring at her, an angry look in his eyes.

Normally, Dr. Rascomb didn't interact a lot with patients, except in his research department, but like all doctors on physicians on staff at Whateley, he took his turn in the emergency room. Without looking up from a computer tablet in his hand, scanning data that the nurse had entered, he came through a pair of double doors which separated the inner workings of the medical center from the checking / waiting area. Dr. Rascomb pulled up short when he almost bumped into an angry, grunting, white buffalo occupying the middle of the waiting room. "Uh," he stammered, momentarily incoherent, "what is that _thing_ doing in the waiting room?"

Seconds later, two security officers burst through the patient entrance doors, one with his hand resting on the pistol holstered on his hip, while the other was holding his combination rifle and grenade launcher at the ready, looking as if he expected a riot instead of a medical emergency.

Officer Breen groaned when he saw the white buffalo. "Not _ the Buffalo Gal_ again!" he complained.

Dr. Rascomb sighed. Why did this kind of stuff happen whenever he got the ER shift? Why couldn't he have a calm, normal shift for once? As normal as would pass for Whateley. On the other hand, he thought about a few of the more 'interesting' cases from years gone by. On second thought, a white buffalo in the waiting room _was_ relatively tame. "What happened?"

Evvie stepped forward, to Tatanka's side. "We're not sure. She'd just come out of the shower, when suddenly she screamed and ran, and I found her like this in our room."

"Can you get rid of the buffalo?" Rascomb asked. From the reactions of Officers Breen and Matthews, that was exactly what they had in mind, too.

Evvie shook her head. "Kayda is the one who controls him."

"And technically," Zenith added for some unknown reason with a smug look, "he's a _bison_, not a _buffalo_. Very common misconception." She ignored the glares from the trio of men and the nurse. "Since Kayda's ancestry is Lakota, it's a reasonable assumption that the manifestation is a plains bison, too, as opposed to a woods bison," she added for good measure.

"I think you should give her a mild sedative," Fubar said, suddenly appearing in the ER. "She's a regenerator and an exemplar, so you'll have to give her one of the devisor drugs. Then get her in a room. I'm afraid this one isn't a physical issue."

"What, then?" Dr. Rascomb asked.

Fubar shook his head. "Based on yesterday's psychic exam for the security incident, I believe that she has repressed memories of some large psychological trauma, and caused those memories to surface. It's most likely PTSD, which would be consistent with her current mental state." He paused for a few moments, and as he did, Tatanka began to glare at him, and then suddenly vanished. Finally, Fubar gave up. "Her mental blocks are up. I can't get anything, either projecting or receiving."

"What now?"

"I just called an expert on Native American dream-walking. He's had experience with her before she got here, so hopefully the spirit that's responsible for her psi blocking should recognize him and let him into her dream-world. Hopefully. Then we can try to figure out what's wrong."

**********

Poe Cottage, 2nd Floor Girls Bathroom

Vanessa

As soon as Kayda and Evvie went down the stairs, the girls drifted back to the bathroom. Murmurs circulated around the girls as they began to speculate on what had happened.

"What happened?" Fey asked of Ayla as Fey strode back into the restroom. Ayla hadn't followed the curious girls to see what was happening with Kayda and Evvie.

Vanessa was clinging tightly to Ayla. "What do you mean, what did Ayla do?" Vanessa snapped back. "It's not his fault that the new girl is a drama queen!"

"Drama queen?" Fey countered. "You didn't feel now terrified she was!"

"All I was doing was taking a shower," Ayla answered unhappily.

"YeahFeyAylaididn'tdoanythingtothegirlshejustfreakedoutandscaredtheheckoutoftherestofus she'sgotsomekindofproblemsbesidesoverreacting Imeanwe'veallseenAylaintheshowersandit'snobigdealsowhydidshefreakout she'sjustadramaqueenlikeVanessasaidGottagetbreakfastbye." JJ scooted off as rapid as she'd come, her rapid-fire staccato and confused explanation of the event sounding twice, with even less clarity, as she told other girls in the hallway.

"Like hell," Sharisha snarled at Ayla, standing with her fists on her hips. "You did something to her!"

"I most certainly did not," Ayla countered defensively.

"What was it? Did you tell her you were a Goodkind and scare her that way?" Alex asked in a snarky voice from one of the sinks.

"Did you make some kind of perverted pass at her?" Sharisha taunted.

"No," Vox stuck up for her boyfriend. "Ayla doesn't do things like that."

"Yeah," Jade added from beside Vox. "Why are you so mean to Ayla?"

"Was she afraid because you're a Goodkind and she's a mutant?" Alex asked. "Or is it because she's a Native American, and your family has a reputation for being as nasty to them as it is to mutants?"

"Yeah," Rip chimed in. "Wasn't there a Colonel Goodkind that was responsible for a whole bunch of massacres during the Indian Wars?"

"Yeah, right!" Vamp yelled derisively at Ayla. "The new kid was just fine until Ayla came in. What happened, Good grief? Maybe one of your sainted ancestors sold her tribe some blankets, good as new, right from the smallpox hospital? Or decided to have a little sport hunting and nearly exterminate the buffalo the Indians depended on?"

Vox and Jade glowered at the girls making the accusations. "That's not fair!" Vox yelled at Sharisha, Rip, and Alex.

"And it's factually incorrect," Ayla snarled back at his roommate, losing the struggle to tightly control his feelings, like Goodkinds always did. "The use of smallpox-infected blankets against Indian tribes was initiated by Captain Simeon Ecuyer under General Jefferey Amherst of the British army against Chief Pontiac during the French & Indian Wars. Colonel Edgar Gabriel Goodkind was with the Inspector General's office on the frontier during the Indian Wars, and not in a combat unit. There is no documentation that would support his participation in any actions against Indians."

"Okay," Vamp allowed, putting an Irish lilt into her voice, "that DOES sound like something that the bloody Brits would do..."

"And secondly, how would she know who I am, let alone who my ancestors are? What you think I DO, go around showing around my pedigree in the Girls' shower?"

"Is THAT what you call it? Your 'Pedigree'?" Alex guffawed, enjoying watching Ayla squirm uncomfortably.

"Yeah, but he still could have done the slaughter thing, which would really piss off the plains tribes," Rip countered, glaring at Ayla.

"Unless ...." Ayla said hesitantly, "maybe ..."

"Maybe what?" Fey asked, feeling Ayla's level of guilt rise significantly. The other girls glared at Ayla, waiting for him to explain.

"Colonel Goodkind's personal journals hint at masterminding or participating in several actions against Indian encampments," Ayla said softly. "And there are entries which suggest that he _might_ have been involved with the strategy of exterminating the plains bison."

"So you _did_ do something!" Sharisha said triumphantly. "At least one of your ancestors did, and now they hate you for it!"

"OhmygodAyla'sancestorskilledsomanyIndiansthatKaydathoughtAylawasgoingtohurtheror shewasafraidoftheGoodkindnamebecauseshesIndianandamutantandshethinksGoodkindshateboth!" JJ zipped through the bathroom, brushed her teeth quickly, and sped out to add to the rumor-mill.

Vanessa and Jade took Ayla by his elbows and pulled him through girls who were either completely curious, or, like Sharisha, were getting angrier by the minute. "You didn't do anything, Ayla," Jade said comfortingly as they took Ayla to his room. "It's not your fault."

"Yeah, right!" Vamp yelled derisively at Ayla as he, Vanessa, and Jade walked out of the bathroom. "She was perfectly fine until _you_ came in. What else could have been responsible for her reaction?"

Fey glared at Alex and followed Vanessa to Ayla's room. She was sure that she sensed guilt in Ayla; as usual, he was probably blaming himself for everything that went wrong. "Were you, maybe, you know?"

Ayla shook his head as he sank into a chair. "I didn't do anything," he repeated to Vanessa. "And ... it ... wasn't like that!" he added, knowing precisely what Fey was implying.

"I know," Vanessa said, rubbing his shoulders. "How is Ayla to blame for the fact that she over-reacted? We all know about your little ... difference."

"Yeah, you all know. But did she?" Ayla asked astutely. "She might have been too surprised. Or she was startled by my family name. Some tribes still invoke the name Goodkind as a curse, just as the Irish do with the name Cromwell. Or because she's a mutant, and a Goodkind in the cottage startled her."

Fey looked quite concerned, a concern for both parties in whatever had happened. "I can tell that you feel guilty, Ayles," she said, "but nobody knows what set her off. You can't blame yourself."

Ayla shook his head. "She was okay until she saw me. How could it _not_ be something I did or am?"

Fey sighed. "Whatever set her off terrified her to the point of a major panic attack. She's almost catatonic from fear."

"Damn! I somehow managed to do it again!" Ayla muttered unhappily, figuring that yet another student was so intimidated by him that the new girl would never want to be near him again.

Kayda's Home Town, South Dakota

The sound of the alarm clock drilled into Scott Hollings brain, shattering the peaceful sleep he'd been enjoying. He slapped at the alarm, managing to shut it off, and then he squirmed from under the covers. Swinging his feet to the floor, he stretched and yawned. As he stood, he noticed a piece of paper on his nightstand. Curious, he picked up the paper, and as he did so, he noticed a small bowl the paper had been covering. There was something in the bowl, but he first read the paper.

We know what you and your friends did. Confess to the authorities, or else.

Frowning, Scott let the paper drop, and looked at the bowl. He screeched in horror when he realized that the bowl contained a pair of severed testicles.

Things didn't get better. There was a similar note in his pickup, and what appeared to be the severed penis of some animal strapped to the stick-shift of his car. The sheriff wasn't much help, either. While footprints were visible in the snow on the roof and around the car and house, they vanished near the tree-line. Everything was taken for evidence, but there was precious little of that. The Hollings family got the sense that the sheriff didn't think the case would be solvable.

At school, the visibly-rattled boy asked some of his friends if anything unusual had happened to them. When they answered no, now curious about the question, Scott clammed up. He did have an image to maintain, even if finding the genitals of something in his room and car, with a note that indicated someone knew what he and his friends had done, had shaken him to his core.

Friday, March 16, 2007
Doyle Medical Center

Kayda

I sat at the fire ring, but the flames were low, not at all cheery or warming. The chill of late autumn hung in the air, and here and there, small flakes of snow danced in the air, flickering orange and red as they reflected, for a moment, the light of fire. The moon was obscured by the clouds, making the tepee village an imposing, dark, and almost sinister place. It didn't feel as safe as it usually did.

Mr. Lodgeman sat at the ring near me. He was staring at me, looking concerned. Wakan Tanka sat beside Mr. Lodgeman, looking no less grim. Mr. Lodgeman chanted in some language other than Lakota, while Wakan Tanka prepared some herbal brew.

A third figure strode slowly into the circle and sat down near me but not next to me. It was Louis Geintz, or at least his psychically manifested form.

"Something great troubles you, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said as she handed me the brew. Mr. Lodgeman and Louis stared at her, evidently not understanding what she was saying.

Cautiously, I drank the soothing, feeling its soothing warmth flow through me - except for a couple of spots in my heart that seemed chilled and unable to be warmed by the tea.

"Something you saw this morning greatly upset you and caused you to panic," Louis said. "What were you doing?"

I glanced nervously around the fire ring at the three sympathetic faces, and then gulped. I didn't want to confront my terror. "I was in the showers," I said hesitantly.

"What happened there?"

"I ... I saw ... Ayla," I said, and at the mention of her name, I began to bawl. "She ... she ... her ... penis .... It made me think of what I lost. It isn't fair!"

"And what is that you lost?" Wakan Tanka asked skeptically. "Your manhood? I thought you'd learned from Cornflower that you are a beautiful woman, and had accepted it. Seeing the boy-girl Ayla wasn't a reminder of your change."

"It's something more than that," Mr. Geintz said solemnly after Tatanka translated for him. "There is something much deeper, something that seeing Ayla touched upon, something that Kayda's been hiding even from herself."

"Kayda's mom reported that she was severely beaten twice by her friends because she was a mutant. They almost killed her," Mr. Lodgeman reported. Tatanka was busy translating for everyone.

"You must talk about the attacks," Wakan Tanka said to me. "You must be open about what happened so that you can move past the pain."

I didn't want to talk about those horrible memories. They were painful reminders of what I'd lost in my life, and how my friend had turned on me so viciously. "The first time, my former friends beat me badly the day I manifested, just because I was a mutant," I said in a detached, clinical voice. "They left me for dead, with a lot of broken bones."

"Which touched upon your fear of being rejected socially," Mr. Lodgeman speculated, to which I just nodded.

"There is nothing else significant about this first assault, or the fear of social rejection per se," Louis reported after some considerable thought, during which it felt like he was inside my head with me. "The attack was an anti-mutant rage, directed at Brandon. He was traumatized by it, but not enough to cause the emotional reaction she felt. The fear of social rejection is a little stronger than in most teenagers, but that appears to be due to a traumatic year while Brandon was in grade school. Again, it doesn't appear to be sufficient to have provoked this severity of reaction."

"And the second attack?"

"I ... I did something stupid," I answered. "I was so ... lonely ... after I changed, and I was feeling cooped-up in the house. I'd been isolated from my friends, and when Julie, my one remaining friend, asked me to meet her so we could go see a movie, I ... I impulsively went. But it was a setup by the girlfriend of one of the guys who beat me up the first time."

Louis contemplated the memories and then he frowned. "There is much more here. Please continue."

"I ... I tried to get away when the cars came. I ... I tried to lock my doors, but in my panic at getting my truck in gear, I missed the lock button. They dragged me out of the truck and began to beat me up." I felt tears flowing down my cheeks at the bitter memories of the assault. "I ... I was knocked unconscious."

"No, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said with certainty. "You have more memories that you have hidden from your own mind." She was firm, but gentle, her voice urging me to examine my memories more carefully.

"What else happened?" Mr. Lodgeman asked, glancing warily at Louis.

"They called me gene filth, and said they were going to kill me," I said. I felt uneasy, as memories were stirring, very unpleasant memories that I struggled to push away.

"That's not all, Kayda," Louis said. "You must not push the memories away. They are the source of your fear and your emotional collapse, and you must acknowledge and confront them."

I swallowed hard; it sounded like the darkness in my mind held something that I didn't want to see, but that the trio was going to _make_ me see. "I ... I can't," I sobbed.

"Yes, you can," Mr. Lodgeman said reassuringly. "We are all here to help you, no matter how ugly or bad they are. What did they say about you?"

"They said ... that I was an attractive girl for a mutant," I said, trembling. "And then they said ..." I shuddered, and began to cry. Wakan Tanka slid beside me and wrapped her arm around me to comfort me. "They said ... that it would be a shame to let a cute girl go to waste before they killed me."

Wakan Tanka pulled my head onto her shoulder as she stroked my cheek gently. I could hear her softly chanting what I thought was one of her healing spells.

"And then what?"

"They hit me, and I lost consciousness."

Louis shook his head. "No. You're still blocking out memories of what happened before you lost consciousness. You must acknowledge and confront those memories or they will continue to cripple you psychologically."

Under his mental guidance, which I could feel within my mind, I slowly reached out to the dark spot. Hesitantly, but reassured by Louis' presence, I touched the memories, and recoiled in anguish. "I ... I felt them ... tearing at my clothes," I sobbed, and then began to cry. "They were touching me, and ... and then ...." I wailed as the memories sprang forth from the dark spot, hitting me like a hammer with all their brutality. "Then they ... they raped me!" I collapsed onto Wakan Tanka's shoulder as she continued to stroke my hair and cheek and whisper soothingly to me while I cried and cried.

After I'd bawled for a very long time, while Louis and Mr. Lodgeman sat quietly, I sat back up and took another drink of the now-cold herbal brew Wakan Tanka had made for me. My emotions lessened considerably with the healing tea, so I continued. "I remember eight of them raping me, multiple ways. A couple of the girls were using things from my tool kit to assault me, too. While they were doing this, some of the other kept hitting me, laughing whenever they heard a bone crack, and then I finally lost consciousness." I was spent emotionally; the recall of the brutal sexual and physical assault had sapped every last bit of my feelings and emotions.

"What else do you remember?" Louis asked.

"When ... when I came to in the doctor's office," I said numbly, "Dad was asking him why he wasn't collecting evidence. He said he didn't have the evidence kits. He helped them get away with ... with raping me!"

"So Ayla ...?" Louis asked a leading question.

"When I saw Ayla," I said softly, "her ... uh, his ... thing reminded me of what they did to me. I ... I panicked at the hints of the memories of ... of being raped ... when they ... violated me."

"You had an emotional collapse," Louis said. "Your mind couldn't handle the reminder, so it shut down."

I barely heard what Louis was saying; the emotional release and the herbal tea were combining to make me feel sleepy. It seemed a dream again when Louis turned to Mr. Lodgeman. "She needs rest now. I'll instruct Chief Delarose, Mrs. Horton, and Dr. Bellows that Kayda is _not_ to be left alone at _any_ time until Dr. Bellows gives the okay. Until we're certain that she's okay, she's on suicide watch."

**********

Saturday, March 17, 2007

I don't know how long I dreamt; the swirling memories were a hopelessly inseparable mélange of my normal dream-space, Papa Sapa, being beaten the first time, and being assaulted the second. The faces of former friends lined up to taunt me and spit on me, while they took turns beating and violating me. Through it all, Tatanka and Wakan Tanka came, pushing away the assailants and assuring me that they would protect me. But it wasn't long until the peace was shattered by another brutal act against me by the boys and girls I'd gone to school with and had once called friends.

Slowly, the frequency of the traumatic dreams waned, while the number of dreams with Debra or Wakan Tanka increased. Always, Wakan Tanka and Debra comforted and reassured me, making me feel safe.

When I woke up in the hospital bed, Toni, who I'd met with Fey outside Poe Cottage, was sitting in the room with me. The strange thing was that she had the chair balanced on one leg, while doing a one-armed handstand on the opposite arm of the chair, and reading her book.

Toni noticed me stirring. "It. Is. Alive!" she said melodramatically as she flipped gracefully into a sitting position in the chair, which was still balanced on one leg. She caught her book without even as ruffling a page.

"Where ... am I?" I asked, confused. I wasn't sure if I was still dreaming or not; I wasn't sure of anything since coming out of the shower. Between the detached feeling and the dream-walks, I wasn't quite sure what memories were real and which were false. I partially uncurled myself from the fetal position I had been in, being careful not to disturb the IV tube in my arm which snaked up to a plastic, liquid-filled bag hanging by the bed.

"You're in Doyle Medical Center," Toni said as if the answer should be obvious. She cartwheeled gracefully to my bed and used the control on my bed to elevate my back and head so I was more sitting than lying, with my knees drawn up protectively to my chest.

"What ... how ... how long have I been here?" I asked hesitantly. I was in a hospital gown, but I didn't remember anything about coming to the center or changing or anything - except for the dream-walk with Fubar and Charlie, and then the absolutely horrific nightmares, the memory of which made me shudder.

Toni winced. "You've been out for almost a day and a half." She did an impossible flip back into the chair, and rebalanced it on the back legs. "The doctors were keeping you sedated."

"And why are you here?" I wrapped my arms around my updrawn knees to help me not also feel exposed psychologically.

"I'm here because the doctors said you can go back to Poe this afternoon, and I drew the short straw to stay with you for this shift."

"But ...." I shook my head. None of this was making any sense. Unless the dream wasn't really a dream. "I'm not sure if I was dreaming, but did someone tell Mrs. Horton that someone had to be with me all the time?"

I heard a voice from the doorway. "You mean, are you on a watch?" I recognized Zenith's voice even before I turned to see here there. "Yes, Fubar did."

"Fubar?" I didn't recognize the name.

"Louis Geintz." Zenith gave a nod to Toni. "You better scoot so you can make your team simulation," she said. "I know you don't want Gunny to be unhappy."

Toni smiled at me. "Take it easy," she said as she flipped her book closed and into her backpack in one impossible motion. She back-flipped off the chair and strode out of the room with an impossible grace and fluidity.

Zenith didn't sit down, but stood by the door looking at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Are you ready to go back to your room?" she asked with a curious smile. "The doctors have released you, pending your cooperation."

"Uh, I guess so." I realized that I'd missed yet another day, including an appointment with my class counselor. "But ...." I sighed heavily, shaking my head as I dropped my gaze to my knees. "What's the point? I might as well stay here for the rest of the term, since I've already missed so much." I was ready to give up, because I believed that I was facing an insurmountable hurdle of trying to catch up in all my classwork, not to mention the social obstacles and the trauma of dealing with the memories of the rape.

Zenith frowned. "That kind of talk isn't helping you at all," she said. "Let's talk about your attitude - what would your friends say if they heard you talking like that?"

I snorted derisively. "What friends? You mean all the girls in Poe I keep pissing off? Or all the established little cliques that I'm too late to fit into? Or the former friends back home who tried to kill me twice?"

Zenith shook her head, scowling. "If you were family, I'd smack some sense into you right now, because you really need to quit feeling sorry for yourself and look at the positive side of things."

"What positive? I lost _everything_! And it's true, isn't it? This is just like any other school, where the 'new kid' doesn't fit into anything, right?" I looked at her, and saw her steely gaze. After several seconds, I dropped my gaze and sighed heavily; what she said is precisely what others had told me. "I suppose you're right. It's just ... I don't feel like I have anything to be positive about."

"Let's start with being alive. And having parents who haven't rejected you for being a mutant, unlike a LOT of kids around here. And not having serious GSD, unlike a LOT of kids around here. And being at Whateley, where you're safe from mobs like tried to hurt you. And with having a lot of girls in Poe who've been watching over you like a sister." She saw my reaction to her comments. "Yes, that's right. We've been taking turns watching over you to make sure you're okay, even during the night shift."

I pondered that for a bit. Despite my misgivings that I'd pissed off the entire cottage, the girls _were_ treating me better than my attitude deserved. I was forced to admit - reluctantly - that despite all the negative things that had happened, there_ were_ things to be grateful for - maybe.

"No one said life was easy. Now are you going to try to get a positive attitude and let the girls help you, or do I tell Mrs. Horton that you'll be staying here another few days?" Zenith asked.

"I'll ... I'll try," I offered meekly.

"Good girl. Now let's get you checked out of here." She disappeared around the corner, and returned moments later with the nurse, who took out my IV line and disconnected some monitors. Zenith retrieved my clothes from a cabinet and placed them on my bed. The nurse closed the door, giving me privacy so I could change out of the skimpy gown than had clearly been designed by someone with a fetish for the derriere.

One thing I discovered when I was getting dressed was that my knife was missing. "Where's Wakan Mila?" I asked sharply, fearing that it had been stolen. I saw Zenith's confused look. "My ... sacred knife?"

Zenith looked evenly at me. "It's been checked into security for ... safekeeping." I didn't like the sound of that, or her choice of words; the implication was that I wasn't trusted to not use my knife to harm myself. As if that would have stopped me if I'd been truly suicidal. There were dozens or hundreds of ways that I could have injured myself if I'd been so inclined, without resorting my knife.

When we got back to my room, Zenith sat down in Evvie's chair and opened a book. "Don't you have something to do?" I asked.

Zenith made a point of glancing at her watch. "For another thirty-five minutes, no." She looked around the room and her gaze settled on my poster on the wall over my bed. "Is that ... Cornflower, er, Debra?" she asked, a bit amazed by the poster of the two of us.

I couldn't help but smile weakly as I glanced up at the picture. "Yeah. You recognize her?"

"Yeah. She was a senior last year." Zenith rose and looked closer at the signature. "She was really something. That's a pretty ... personal autograph," she observed without a hint of criticism or judgment in her voice.

"Yeah , I guess," I said, blushing since I remembered just _how_ personalized it was.

Zenith smiled. "She caught the attention of a _lot_ of girls in Poe. It seemed like she was everyone's dream girl. I can't count how many girls fell head-over-heels for her, because she's so damned cute and sweet and friendly. But she never took advantage, and I don't think she every hurt anyone, at least not deliberately. I think she's even prettier now than when she was last year." She sat back down. "How do you know her this ... well?"

I smiled, and related my entire story from manifesting through my trip here, highlighting my time with Debra. "She's ... a very good friend." Talking about Debra was a good distraction from all the things that threatened to drag me into severe depression.

"At _least_ a very good friend, if you ask me," Zenith chuckled. "I guess that makes you part of the sisterhood."

I could feel my cheeks burning as I broke eye contact with Zenith. Why was it that I seemed to be either embarrassed or dejected whenever I was talking to someone here at Whateley? "I'm ... I'm not sure. My ... change was too recent for me to know."

Zenith laughed aloud. "If this poster and the look in Debra's eyes and her inscription are any hint, then I don't think guys on campus have any chance."

"Not right now," I mumbled. "I still kind of think like a guy."

"Which explains your attraction to Debra. Good. This gives me some leverage. If you don't get your act together, I'll tell Mrs. Horton to call Debra to talk some sense into you. Or I'll call her myself."

"That's cheating," I pouted, realizing that Zenith probably wasn't bluffing.

"Yes, it is." Zenith just smiled. "It's up to you. You can do it the easy way, or you can do it the hard way." She let her book fall into her lap and stared at me for a few moments, almost like she was reading a book, but instead of written words, she seemed to be reading my feelings. Her eyes popped wide open. "This is about a lot more than just your former friends trying to kill you, isn't it?"

I stared at her for what seemed an eternity, but was only a few seconds, and then slowly nodded. "I ...." I bit my lip. This was difficult to face, let alone talk about, but Wakan Tanka and Mr. Lodgeman and Louis had told me that I needed to confront the facts. And Zenith had been helpful to me. But I couldn't. "I ... I can't .... I don't want ... to talk about it." Admitting that I'd been raped was too big a step for me at that time, mostly because the memory was too traumatic, and I was afraid of how the girls would react to that news, especially the ones who already disliked me. They'd just have one more thing to taunt and torment me with if they knew my ugly secret. The awful nightmares returned in a flash, overwhelming me emotionally. I started crying again, falling to my side on my bed and curling up, shaking furiously as I sobbed uncontrollably at the horrible memories of what had been done to me.

Zenith's eyes popped wide open, and after she got over a momentary shock, she dashed to the doorway. "Get Mrs. Horton," she commanded someone sharply. "Now!" She darted back in and sat beside me, hugging me as I cried. From her reaction, I was pretty certain that she'd read the thoughts and emotions I was probably broadcasting.

The next thing I knew, Mrs. Horton was with me, and Zenith, too, and they held me close and comforted me for quite a while as I bawled uncontrollably. As the two comforted me, Evvie returned to our room with her friend Naomi. Evvie looked warily at Mrs. Horton and Zenith.

"Kayda has had a pretty rough couple of days," Mrs. Horton commented. "Why don't you and couple of girls take her to dinner? After being confined in Doyle, I'm sure she's starving." She leaned closer to Evvie and whispered something to her, which caused Evvie's eyes to widen. She glanced at me, and then looked at Zenith, who nodded.

I looked at Mrs. Horton. What had she told Evvie? That I was dangerous to myself? Or had she spilled my dirty secret? I felt like she'd just betrayed me. I suddenly felt a lot less like going to Crystal Hall. "Uh, I ... don't know how things work in the cafeteria," I objected softy. "With the whole security thing yesterday and late lunch, and then going to the hospital ...." I sighed. "I didn't even get an ID card, which I was told you have to have at the cafeteria." I looked down, feeling despondent again. "Besides, I'm not really hungry. I can just get a snack in the kitchen downstairs if I need to." I was looking for excuses.

Evvie stepped to my dresser and pulled out an outfit. "It's time you start suffering with the rest of us in Crystal Hall. Not optional."

Mrs. Horton rose. "Are you okay now?" she asked softly.

"I ... I don't know," I stammered. To be honest, I didn't know if I'd _ever_ be okay. "I ... think so. Maybe."

"You know how to get ahold of me if you need me," she said. With that, she and Zenith left my room, closing the door behind themselves.

"Okay, let's get you into something clean, and go have dinner," Evvie said as she tossed clothing at me. She glanced at her friend. "This is Naomi Anders. She lives up on the second floor."

"Hi," I said, unable to muster any enthusiasm.

"Hi," Naomi said cheerfully. "It's nice to meet you," she said, giving me a hug. She seemed to be a self-confident, happy girl, with the right looks and curves such that if she'd have been blonde, she would have been probably categorized as a bubble-headed bimbo. Tall, svelte, and brunette, she looked poised instead of air-headed, and she came across as warm and friendly as opposed to cluelessly perky or annoyingly bitchy. Her embrace made me feel a little better, but I couldn't help being wary. At least she wasn't judging me based on all the fight rumors, but she didn't know about the rapes, either. Would her opinion change once she learned that? Would she look down at me as damaged, or some kind of slut? Or shun me as the 'new girl'?

"I'm Kayda," I said with hesitation. I was hoping that Naomi and Evvie weren't going to get too chatty, because I was feeling very self-conscious and not very talkative myself.

I was surprised to find several girls, including Heather and Verdant, walking with Evvie, Naomi, and me to Crystal Hall. Students were slowly converging on the dining facility from multiple directions from the many cottages, so it was inevitable that we'd be waiting in line. I was getting nervous, since a lot of the students were male, and some were giving me more than just a passing glance. My hands were trembling by the time we got to the dining hall and joined the line for food. I didn't know how the other girls could ignore all the lustful, leering gazes from the testosterone super-charged young men all around them. I wished that I had such self-confidence. All I had, though, was sheer terror.

As I had expected, the multi-storied dining hall was stratified along social lines, with some groups that Debra had told me about, such as the Alphas and Capes, having claimed tables in positions of prominence on the upper levels to reflect their status. Not knowing the social pecking order, I just followed Evvie to the line, where I picked up a tray, planning on following her to a suitable table that didn't intrude on any established cliques. Ahead of us in line was an energizer, piling food on her two trays the same way Debra had. That simple thought made me miss Debra immensely, and my eyes misted. If she was with me, I knew I'd be much less nervous and wouldn't feel like such an outsider.

I might have been overly self-conscious, but I was convinced that people were staring at me and muttering under their breath as I passed, my imagination certain that they were talking about the fight and the security incident, and possibly even my breakdown and hospital stay. I stumbled and nearly fell when I had the horrific thought that some might even know about the assault if anyone had blabbed my awful secret. The thought that everyone might look at me as dirty or damaged or slutty was nearly overwhelming.

Trying to check out in line became a complete disaster. I followed the line to the clerk, who summarized what food was on each tray and then scanned the student's ID card, presumably to charge the meal to the student. Alas, I had no ID, and the clerk didn't believe me when I told her that I hadn't gotten an ID yet, even with the other girls backing my story. Consequently, the line behind me began to back up while I argued hopelessly with the stubborn clerk. From the grumbling and mumbling chorus behind me, I could tell that some of the students were getting a little surly that I was holding up the line. I tried to work through the difficulty with the clerk, but she absolutely refused to relent on her 'no ID, no food' stance. In the meantime, the unhappy muttering behind me in the line increased in both volume and tone. One of the guys in line behind us snorted, "Great, the buffalo bimbo is holding up the line, too." Another grumbled in a snarky, nasty tone, "Get your act together, bitch." I don't think they meant for me to hear, or maybe they did, because when I looked, at least two dozen hungry students in line were scowling and glaring at me.

The stress of the preceding weeks had taken its toll, and I snapped under the emotional pressure - again. "It's not my fault," I wailed in distress. In my anguish and anger, I accidentally manifested Tatanka full-sized, and his bulk pushed some of the complainers aside and upset more than a few trays of food. His physical appearance also startled or frightened several students in line, which in turn caused _them_ to drop trays. Some of the students sitting at tables were even startled by the sudden manifestation of a full-sized white buffalo, and his angry gestures and noises didn't help the peace. He snorted at the guys behind me who'd been getting offensive, and I saw people take a step or two back, nervous or afraid. Word that Tatanka had shredded a PK brick had definitely gotten around.

As soon as I realized what I'd done, I recalled Tatanka, and with my eyes watering, I spun from the line, feeling humiliated by the cashier who refused to let me eat, by the guys who'd been mocking and insulting me, and by my lack of control of Tatanka, which had caused a near panic and a huge mess. I accidentally knocked my tray off the checkout table and onto the floor to the accompaniment of even more shattering dishes. Losing a battle against tears, and not caring that I was making a scene, I bolted from the dining room, barely able to discern where I was going through my tear-blurred vision. I didn't care where I went, as long as I got away from the mocking, angry students who reminded me, in their anger and tone, of nothing so much as the mob that had so viciously attacked me outside the locker room all those weeks ago. Without even realizing I'd done it, I incanted the ghost-walking spell to better hide as I dashed away from Crystal Hall.

"Kayda, wait!" I heard Evvie and some of the other girls call. Because they'd been in different checkout lines, without my huge delay, they were already sitting at a table, and probably surprised when I was bolting from the line toward the door before I vanished.

There was a bit of pushing as I shoved my way out the door other students were trying to come in, and then I was outside, running blindly away. There was a general ruckus behind me, and over the top of the minor din, Evvie's voice called out my name again and again until it faded in the distance.

I didn't know how long or in what direction I ran, only that I stopped only when I could no longer see any buildings or any other students. Weeping uncontrollably, I sank to the ground, plopping bottom-first onto a snow-covered spot secluded from any part of the campus. I didn't try to wipe my tears as I cursed the school, security, the administration, the idiot in the cafeteria line, and the stupid other students who were making my life a living hell. I manifested Tatanka again for his company, but in a small size, and I clung to him like a comforting stuffed animal as my tears ran onto his snowy-white fur. I regretted that I'd agreed to come to this awful place, and even that I'd ever been born. I couldn't help but think that it _would_ have been better if my former friends had succeeded on that second night. Only Tatanka and Wakan Tanka cared about me. If not for them ....

Tatanka and I must have sat for nearly two hours, completely oblivious to the melting snow beneath my rear, before I sensed footsteps approaching from behind me. I didn't bother to turn because I was too absorbed in my own misery. Besides, I was ghost-walking, so I knew that they couldn't see me, and I didn't want any one finding me. I just wanted to be left alone in my misery.

"Miss?" a masculine voice called out strongly.

I was startled; the ghost-walking spell must have worn off without me noticing. "Go away!" I wailed.

"Miss?" another voice asked. "Are you Kayda Franks? Does anyone know where you're at?"

"Leave me alone! Nobody gives a fuck about me!" I started to incant the ghost-walking spell again to get away from their disturbing presence. Couldn't they understand that I just wanted to be left alone?

"Stop casting your spell," one of the officers warned curtly as the men stepped closer. Tatanka, though, rose to his feet, turning and growing larger as he did so, until he was full sized. He wasn't sure if I was threatened or not, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He was my defender. The men halted.

I heard a button click. "Lieutenant, we've confirmed that it's the Buffalo Gal, and she's got her creature manifested and in a threatening posture."

I didn't move, sitting with my arms crossed on my updrawn knees. "Just leave me alone!" I cried angrily. Now I had a disgusting nickname, too - at least among the security officers. "Go away!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," one of the officers said. "Your housemother reported you missing, so we have to notify the office of your whereabouts."

"Okay, you know I'm here. Now go away!" I snapped at them angrily.

"It's not that simple," the other officer said hesitantly. "Because you're on watch without a current escort, we can't leave you alone. We have to take you to the security office for a report.

"What if I don't want to? What if I want to just sit here and think of how miserable my stupid fucking life is? Are you going to haul me away again? Interrogate me for hours just because I want to sit by myself? Are you going to lock me up, or have Hartford move me or kick me out?" I shook my head, my cheeks wet with my seemingly unstoppable tears. "Leave me alone. I want everyone to just leave me the fuck alone! My life already sucks enough!" I put my head into my arms and bawled.

One of the officers must have taken a step toward me, because Tatanka snorted and pawed the ground menacingly. "Miss, please control your manifestation. We're security officers, and you need to follow our instructions."

"Thanks to you guys," I blubbered without looking up, "I can't even fucking eat! I didn't get an ID card, and then everyone in the cafeteria got mad at me because I couldn't even check out with a meal! All because some guys attacked me when I first got here and _you_ all blamed me! Just go away! You're ruining my life enough already! Leave me the fuck alone!" I blubbered.

If I hadn't been learning from Tatanka, I wouldn't have known that a girl was approaching the security officers, but I had been practicing, and I could feel the disturbance in the earth spirit as someone walked toward the little standoff. Besides what the earth spirit was telling me, there was something else about her that Wakan Tanka noticed without even seeing her. "Let me handle this," a soft, feminine voice said.

"Uh, I have orders ...." one of the officers started to say.

"I'm a security auxiliary," the voice said sweetly and confidently. "Now please give us some room so I can talk to her privately."

After a moment, I felt through the earth spirit that the men were moving back slowly. I also felt, through Tatanka as well, the girl approaching the white buffalo. She stopped moving, and spoke to him in a tongue I didn't recognize, and to my utter shock, he replied in the same language. A moment later, she eased herself to the ground beside me. I stole a glance, and in the moonlight I saw her long flowing hair and pointed ears. She was the one that Wakan Tanka told me that I would need to be cautious around until we knew if she was a threat. And then the traitorous buffalo spirit had talked to her, and had let her come to me when he knew I wanted to be left alone.

"It's a nice, peaceful night to meditate," Fey observed. "Unless you're trying to run away from something."

"My life sucks and nobody in this stupid place cares about me!" I snapped at her. "Why are _you_ bothering? Don't you have something better to do? Or is it your turn for 'torment the new girl'?"

Fey recoiled at my vehement outburst. "Are you okay?" She sounded genuinely concerned, like Louis and Dr. Bellows had been.

"I got in trouble for something I didn't do, and thanks to security screwing up my check-in, I can't even eat!" I complained. "Not that I have much appetite left after the shitty way I've been treated around here! I need an ID card, but I can't get one until Monday, so they won't feed me! I feel like crap, I left everything I knew, including my ... best friend. My old friends tried to kill me, and then," I blubbered, overwhelmed again by the excruciating memories and unable to say more, especially about my dirty secret. Too many people already knew. I bawled into my arms, shaking violently as my body convulsed with my sobs. "Does that ... sound ... like ... I'm okay?"

Fey pulled me onto her shoulder, holding me closely while I cried some more. "You'll be okay," she said soothingly. "It's gonna be okay." I didn't know how she could possibly sound so confident. "You've had a rougher introduction to Whateley than most, especially with what happened to you. But everything will get better."

After crying for a long while, I let her help me to my feet, and with Tatanka still fully manifested and following me, Fey escorted me back toward the main buildings. I'd run a lot further from the main buildings than I'd realized; in the dark, without being familiar with campus or having a map, I had no idea where I was with respect to Poe. We passed Melville hall, but instead of turning toward our cottage, we turned the other way and headed toward the center of campus.

"Security again?" I asked morosely. I was drained emotionally.

"Yes, unfortunately. They were called out to help find you, so there has to be an incident report."

"Fucking great!" I grumbled. "Two in three days. That'll really help my reputation."

Fey chuckled. "You haven't seen Team Kimba's record from last year. You wouldn't worry so much about yourself own ... meager exploits ... if you did." As we walked, I winced a little in discomfort, which I didn't think was much, but it caught Fey's attention. "What's wrong?"

I frowned. "Besides feeling hyper-emotional because my hormones have changed sides? Besides having to deal with nothing but crap and disappointment and frustration since I got here?" I tried not to snap at her; she was trying to help me after all. "I feel ... uncomfortable. It hurts. Kind of here," I added, placing my hand over my lower abdomen.

Fey sighed. "How long ago did you manifest?"

"Almost a month ago. Why?"

"And you're ... complete?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Burnout sped up my change a lot. I'm ... fully female," I added bitterly.

"You may be about to be introduced to one of the joys of being a woman," she said, sounding sympathetic. "After we get the security report filed, we need to get you over to Doyle. You probably should be checked by a doctor, and they may be able to give you something for your discomfort."

"That's just great!" I snarled, unhappy once more. "Now I'm having PMS, too, and I'm about to ...?" I couldn't bring myself to say it, even though I knew that was what she was insinuating. So far, I hadn't had to think about that aspect of my change.

Fey sat with me while we were waiting for security. For some reason, they really didn't want a full-size, angry white buffalo waiting with us, so I had him shrink to Labrador sized, which immediately got Fey oohing and aahing over how cute he was. Tatanka was quickly becoming enamored with attention from Fey. The big lug was acting just like a puppy. A traitorous puppy.

I got in trouble for running away from the main part of campus into a 'restricted' area, whatever that was, for hiding using my ghost-walking abilities, for not demanifesting Tatanka when the security officers approached me and requested that I do so, and for endangering myself by running away from 'escorts' when I was on a watch.

Chief Delarose didn't appreciate it when I angrily blamed the entire cafeteria incident on security screwing up the investigation two days earlier with my first incident, when I'd obviously been the victim but had been treated as the perp, so that I couldn't get my ID or any other paperwork done, and thus I couldn't even get a damned meal. I also ranted quite a bit about how, thanks to them, I was even two days _further_ behind on classes, because they'd kept me from meeting with my advisor, and wondered aloud why I was even bothering with Whateley, since the place was evidently trying its hardest to ruin my life. I used some rather choice descriptive words and phrases to emphasize my point, sufficiently colorful that I could see Fey wincing at how far overboard she thought I was going with my spiteful soliloquy.

The net result of my angry rant was that I earned a personal lecture from the Chief about getting snarky and sassy to when security was following procedures to ensure the safety of all students on campus, including me. He also very sternly informed me that he was _not_ going to tolerate language such as I'd been using. I was most disturbed that he wasn't angry or yelling, but had a low-key but fiery, determined delivery of his talk that reminded me so much of Dad. When Dad was upset, he sometimes yelled, but when he was furious and I was in real deep trouble, he lowered his volume and his rhetoric into a stern, soft, intensely focused lecture that was almost frightening. Chief Delarose had the same style, and it was very intimidating.

Somehow, though, Fey calmed down Chief Delarose, because at that point, I think he was ready to put me in their 'in house suspension', which was their cute term for a jail cell. What the two of them didn't realize was that I'd had my fill of Whateley's bullshit in just a couple of short days, and I was fully ready to leave this god-forsaken campus, if necessary by foot in the middle of the night. There were some spells that Wakan Tanka had taught me that I was certain would let me easily evade all the security goons, slip through whatever magic boundaries lined the place, and put this nightmare behind me.

I'm pretty certain that my anger and intentions were on full psychic display, because Fey gave me a very disapproving stare and shook her head slightly, enough to get her displeasure across without being obvious, and to let me know that I'd gone way over the line and needed to shut up and listen. I was startled enough to pause my intended verbal riposte, which would have been a very serious mistake had I delivered it.

"Chief," she began in that dulcet voice of hers, which only weeks ago would have melted me like butter, "if you'd been detained, questioned, and accused of something you didn't do, long enough that you couldn't get through even simple check-in steps, almost been railroaded by the administration, missed meals, were hospitalized for a day and half, and _then_ the cafeteria wouldn't feed you because the administration didn't get you something simple like an ID card, don't you think you'd be more than a little upset, too?"

I saw Chief Delarose's expression change slowly as he considered what Fey had said, but she wasn't done.

"It sounds like Kayda is the victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, having bad luck, unfortunate coincidences, and some botched coordination by the school. The only question is how to help Kayda so she can do something basic like get a meal?"

Chief Delarose sighed heavily. "You're right, Fey. I _would_ be rather upset if it had happened to me." He looked at me like he was judging my mental state, to see if my anger had abated any. "I'll have the duty staff print you a letter explaining that, through a lapse in procedure, you have no ID yet, but you are officially enrolled as a student. That _should_ get you through the dining hall and anything you might encounter until we can get you a proper ID card on Monday."

"Just fu ... freakin' great," I muttered sotto voce to vent my frustrations without being heard. "Yet another way to humiliate me when I try to get a meal. Like I'm going to embarrass myself in there again before I get an ID! I'd rather freakin' starve!" The thought of being ridiculed and belittled in the cafeteria again made my stomach turn such that the mere thought of food was repulsive.

I didn't know about Fey's sensitive hearing. "You should be getting snarky when people are _trying_ to help you,"

"Yeah? Well you weren't the one who was treated like crap and humiliated in the lunch line, were you?" I clenched my teeth in fury, taking deep breaths to rein in my anger and frustration. After a few seconds, I lowered my angry glare, which had by then diffused to a mere annoying stare, to the edge of the Chief's desk.

"I also made you an appointment with Mrs. Carson for eleven-fifteen Monday morning," the Chief said.

"Just fu ... freakin great!" I exploded. "Now I've got a meeting with a course counselor, all the check-in and paperwork crap, an appointment with Mrs. Carson, and another with Dr. Bellows, I'm going to miss _another_ day of classes, so I'll be even _further_ behind than just two freakin' weeks!" I stared down at the floor, shaking my head. "Why the hell did I even come here?" I mumbled to myself.

**********

As Fey walked me to Doyle, she commented, "You really need to get your attitude straight. You're not being persecuted, and people don't automatically hate you. But that pissy, woe-is-me attitude is _going_ to make people dislike you if you don't watch it."

"Like it fucking matters," I snapped back.

"Were you _always_ this pessimistic, or this big a pain in the ass?"

"How would _you_ feel if you'd been beaten almost to death and gang-raped?" I snapped at her before I could stop the words from spewing forth. I stopped walking, instantly regretting what I'd inadvertently disclosed in my angst.

Fey turned toward me, her violet eyes wide in shock. "What?" she stammered.

My lip quivered as I looked down, ashamed of what I'd admitted. "Wouldn't you be total mess if your old friends had tried to kill you twice and raped you?"

"I ... I didn't know. None of us did," Fey said hesitantly, not quite sure what she should say.

"Nobody knew. I wasn't going to tell you, either. It just ... slipped out." I turned away so she couldn't see the anguish on my face as tears leaked from my eyes. "Now you know. I'm damaged. Defective. I'm ... soiled and stained and ... worthless."

Fey put her hands on my shoulder, and then wrapped her arms around me and held me tight, comforting me. "You're not worthless. Aunghadhail doesn't think so."

After a bit, we resumed walking, but now Fey had her arm around me to offer what support she could. "Please don't tell anyone," I begged her. "I don't want anyone to know how ... damaged I am."

"Aunghadhail can help you, if you'd like," Fey offered. "She's a remarkable healer."

I shook my head. "I have a powerful healing spirit in me already." Based on what Wakan Tanka had told me, I wasn't ready to completely trust her. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"You should tell ...."

"Promise me!" I insisted more urgently.

"Okay, I promise." Fey sighed. "This explains why you ... reacted ... the way you did with Ayla."

"That's what Mr. Geintz and Dr. Bellows think."

"You should tell Ayla," Fey suggested. "He doesn't show it, but he's really feeling guilty about what he thinks he did to you. Does Punch know?"

"No. I haven't told anyone, until I slipped up. I don't want people to pity me, or on the other extreme, think I'm broken, or a slut, or something like that."

"Kayda, I think you're making a mistake in how you think the others in Poe will react. I can't imagine that _anyone_ is going to see you as damaged or stained, or think you're slutty because of being a victim of a horrible crime."

We walked in silence for a while as I contemplated what she'd told me, and she thought about what I'd accidentally revealed. Fey broke the silence.

"Aunghadhail knows your buffalo spirit. She thinks she knows your other spirit as well."

"Be honest with her, Wihakaya," Wakan Tanka told me. "She is not against us, at least not at present."

"Wakan Tanka knows her," I said hesitantly. "She told me to be wary of you and her."

"Is that why you blocked me magically the other day?" Fey asked. "You were radiating your emotions pretty strongly, and then they shut off completely."

I nodded. "She's not sure if she can trust you, or the queen in you."

"Why not?"

I suddenly felt Ptesanwi joining with me physically, just as it had felt in the dream-world and when we had saved Debra. We seemed to be standing a bit taller, and with a bit more certainty. There was some kind of ethereal glow about our body, a magic shell that Wakan Tanka told me normal people would only be able to see if we let them. "Because the last time we saw each other," we said sternly, "you argued that we should abandon helping the People, and instead focus on saving what we could of the Sidhe, even as the Sundering tore your old order apart."

Fey straitened, and gained a regal, majestic appearance. "You could have helped against the Sundering," she complained bitterly to us. I could tell that we were speaking to the Sidhe queen, not to a teenage girl. "You could have helped us battle, and maybe to survive."

"You know that we could not have helped. We had no power to stop events that were taking place."

Fey stopped in the middle of the walkway, physically turning me to face her. "You didn't even try."

We felt our anger rise. "And you didn't try to help us, or the People! You have no idea of what we faced. The Nine Queens and the Five-Fold Courts were so busy arguing amongst yourselves about your own struggles that you had no idea that evil powers raised up demons to fight us. Demons came to all the First Nations, in all forms, to destroy the earliest of the People. Wakan Tanka came to the land through us to fight against the demons, and to restore the lands for the First Nations. Your Sundering was not the only attack." We were angry, and a little bitter, at Aunghadhail's self-centered view.

Aunghadhail seemed to recoil from my accusation. "We ... were not aware of those attacks. We were busy fighting our own foes."

We frowned at her. "No, you didn't know. We tried to warn the Five-Fold Courts of the coming danger, but since you had no interest in the People, you chose to ignore us and engage in your petty bickering."

Aunghadhail stiffened. "We were not bickering amongst ourselves. We had very real problems to deal with. The Five-Fold Courts were splintering from internal dissent, breaking up the unity that we _needed_ to survive. We also sensed the attack coming upon us, and were busy trying to keep the Five-Fold Courts united."

"When war came to both of us, many of our heroes and shamans were swept up in _your_ part of the war and the Sundering - heroes and shamans we needed in our own struggles. Heroes and shamans who could have prevented much death and suffering in the People. The demons almost succeeded, because the people were few. Yet you never acknowledged our sacrifices on your behalf." There was definitely bad blood between Aunghadhail and Wakan Tanka, and as Ptesanwi, it was involving Fey and me, too.

Aunghadhail paused, and then looked a little contrite. "We did not mean for our struggles to spread to you, nor to distract your heroes and shamans from saving your Peoples." She paused again. "We are not enemies," she offered, "I hope. We both desired the same thing then as we desire now - prosperity for the land and our people, and safety from dark forces."

We looked upon the Queen of the West, the ancient Sidhe residing in the body of this teenage girl, just as Ptesanwi resided in us. "We still fight for the same goal, and against the same foes." The tension between us and Aunghadhail lessened. "Is there peace between us?" we asked hesitantly.

Aunghadhail gazed at me for a few moments. "Yes, there is peace. What is done is done, and we must move forward. It serves no purpose to argue over the past." We could feel the bitter aftertaste of our old conflict fading quickly until it was but a faint memory.

We smiled at the queen. "If we were warriors, we would seal our peace with a blood bond."

Fey returned as the figure lost some of her regal stature, returning to the youthful exuberance and posture that she'd shown only moments before. "I'm not sure you'd want to be a blood sister to me," she chuckled, "since that would probably extend the blood-sister relationship to the demon who is already my blood sister. It might set a bad precedent."

"You ... are blood-sister to a demon?" I shuddered as Ptesanwi retreated to the dream-world, leaving me standing alone with Fey once more. "I ask that you tell no-one of who and what I really am," I urged. "None of it. It could bring great danger to anyone close to me."

Fey nodded. "I'll keep your secrets." She grasped my hand firmly. "I swear it. Now let's get you to Doyle so you can get your ... issue ... take care of," she added with a smile. "Goddess avatars shouldn't have to worry about minor things like PMS."

********

Doyle Medical Center

Nurse Lipton looked up from her desk and sighed as we walked into the emergency room. "What did you do this time, Nikki?" she asked with a somewhat bored demeanor.

Fey smiled. "It's not me this time."

"Yeah," I added softly. "I'm the one with the problem."

The nurse looked at me. "Name, please," she asked as she turned to her computer.

"Kayda Franks."

Nurse Lipton typed in my name, and then frowned. "We don’t have copies of the medical records that should have come with your application packet. This is unusual."

I sighed heavily. "No, it's not. Security ... delayed me getting enrolled, so none of my data is in the system yet. Hell, I can't even get a meal because I don't have a stupid ID card!" I griped aloud, feeling my stress level and temper rising again. Fey's hand squeezing my arm helped me to refocus and push back my anger.

"I was about to ask you for your card," the nurse said. "Do you have any proof of enrollment?" She sounded exasperated, "apart from the record for observation yesterday and this morning."

I shoved the letter from security in her face. "This is the best I've got."

Nurse Lipton took the paper and examined it. "I suppose it'll have to do." She printed a few document, put a label on a folder, and shoved the paper into the folder.

"Hey," I protested strongly when I saw what she'd done, "I need that to eat, because I don't have an ID yet, and the clerks won't serve me unless I have one!" Her short-sighted response was evidence of even more bureaucratic ineptitude on display. "Unless you're trying to be the cause of me being hospitalized for malnutrition because I can't even get a meal here!" Snarky-bitch mode was fully engaged. I was tired of these stupid games.

The nurse glared at me for a few moments, but eventually, she took the paper, made a copy, and put the copy in the folder, handing the original back to me. "Okay, what brings you here tonight?" she asked, sounding bored. I didn't have any visible broken bones or torn limbs, so I was a 'boring' case.

I started to speak, but Nikki interrupted. "Irritability, mood swings, bloating, and cramping," she said without batting an eye, while I blushed furiously.

"So take something and let us know when it's over," Nurse Lipton said, sounding bored. "Unless there are complications."

I gathered that she wasn't interested in my problems as well, thinking that I should be able to handle some PMS on my own. "I ... I manifested less than a month ago," I said softly.

"Okay," she said, confused.

"She lives in Poe," Nikki added, as if that one statement would clear things up for the nurse.

It did. "Oh!" she said, suddenly sounding more understanding. "Is this your first, dear?" she asked with a lot more sympathy.

I simply nodded, feeling my cheeks burning, because she obviously knew my secret, and the subject was more than a little embarrassing.

"Okay, let's get you back to an exam room and get your vitals. Dr. Guitterez is on call tonight, so she'll be with you in a moment."

Fey patted my shoulder. "I'll wait out here until you're done."

I looked plaintively at her. "Can you come back with me? Please?"

It must have been a slow night, because Dr. Guitterez was in the room even before the nurse had finished taking my vital signs. "Okay, let's see," she said as she reviewed the data, "Probable first menstrual cycle, manifested and changed several weeks ago." She nodded to herself. "Looks pretty routine. Can you describe the symptoms you're having?"

"I'm ... I've got some cramps, and I feel a little full. But it's not too bad. Just enough to be annoying," I reported.

"And she's an emotional volcano," Nikki added.

"Bleeding? Sensitivity there?"

I shook my head. "No bleeding, but it feels a little sensitive."

The nurse handed me a gown. "Put this on, and we'll be right back to finish the exam." She, Fey, and the doctor left so I could change. Once I was clad in the skimpy, drafty, embarrassing garment, they came back in.

Dr. Guitterez said, "Okay, let's get a vaginal exam first, and then we'll do a uterine scan to see if she _is_ going into her period." She swung out stirrups from the examining table.

The next thing I knew, I was curled up, with my back against the wall, clutching my knees against my chest with both arms and whimpering in terror. "No!" I sobbed. "No! Please, no! Don't!"

Dr. Guitterez looked, wide-eyed with surprise, at me, and then at Nurse Lipton. As I cowered in fear, Dr. Guitterez looked at my file. It seemed that a light went on for the doctor.

"Nurse, get a shot of ...." She paused, and turned to Nikki. "Do you know if she's an energizer, or an exemplar, or a regenerator? She has no records of powers testing for me to go on."

Somehow, after much talking by her, and whimpering by me, Nikki got my MID card from me. "Exemplar 2, Regen 2," she read from the card.

Dr. Guitterez frowned. "Okay, let's go with three cc's of Tranq-Max," he ordered the nurse. "That should keep her calm for a few hours, even if she is a regen." She turned to me. "I'm going to give you a tranquilizer that the biodevisors have specially formulated for regenerators like you. It should help you relax so we can complete the exam. Okay?"

I nodded, barely, acknowledging that I understood the doctor.

Fifteen minutes later, the intrusive exam and the strange scan were done. It seemed like I was floating above the exam table, watching, and feeling like I was drunk, or watching from halfway in dream-space. I heard the doctor talking to the nurse and Nikki, but it didn't make much sense to me. He also gave Nikki a bottle of pills for me which I was supposed to take to relieve discomfort.

"Can you walk back to Poe?" Nikki asked me as I sat up on the table.

I think I giggled at her as I shook my head. "I'll ride Tatanka."

Fey snorted derisively, shaking her head. "I'll get Jinn to take her back." She didn't' move, so I guessed that she was talking telepathically or via a spell to Jinn.

A few minutes later, the floating blanket was in the room, accompanied by Evvie, and, once I was clothed again, I climbed in the piece of animated fabric. "Whee!" I exclaimed drunkenly. "I get a flying carpet ride!" Tatanka must have been concerned about my safety, because he manifested again.

On a campus where strange things are routine, the procession of a manifested white buffalo, myself giggling and generally acting drunk as I was carried telekinetically, and Fey walking beside me to keep me under control, with Evvie and Naomi bringing up the rear, was an interesting spectacle. Someone was thinking enough to get a picture, and I when I saw it later, I had to admit that it did look quite silly.

I flopped wearily into my bed, still feeling woozy from the tranquilizer. I don't really remember much of what Mrs. Horton had to say to me, only that she'd been very worried about me, given my emotional state, and that I was NEVER, EVER to run off like that again. I think she made me promise, but I wasn't sure. I do know that the tranquilizer didn't wear off until nearly morning, and I missed being able to dream-walk with Debra.

**********

Sunday, March 18, 2007

I woke up very early when the cramps returned. I tried to force myself to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I tried to focus to have a brief dream-walk before I got up, but the discomfort made that task impossible. I finally got out of bed, being quiet so I didn't wake Evvie. Hearing no noise in the bathroom, I took my towel and toiletries, and after pulling on a robe, I went in to take care of my morning business.

I couldn't see who because of the spray and condensation, but one of the girls was in the shower and obviously using the 'special function', which from the look of things, was exactly what I'd guessed it was, a fact that made me feel a little nauseated. The thought of using that ... function ... on myself made my stomach do flips, contort itself, and try to tie itself in a knot. Despite the way the girl was moving, I didn't hear a sound coming out of the shower, not even the sound of the water spray, so I gathered that she was using the noise suppressor that the second sign warned about.

Shuddering at the thought of that particular shower function, I turned on a shower, hung up my robe, and crawled in. I didn't want to _ever_ use the shower device on _those_ parts! The spray felt particularly refreshing as it massaged my aching back, and I lingered in the shower a little longer than I should have. When I finished, the first girl was still in her shower stall enjoying the 'special function', while Vanessa took my place, glaring angrily at me as she stepped past me.

I'd just started drying my hair with my blow-dryer, not really thinking about much besides getting some breakfast, when I heard the door open. I glanced in the mirror, and froze when I saw Ayla heading toward the showers.

Fighting the rising panic I felt, I yanked the cord out of the socket without even turning off my blow-dryer, grabbed my toiletries bag, and scurried past Ayla out of the bathroom, right past Vanessa, who'd finished her own shower. I barely saw the flicker of dismay on Ayla face, but I definitely noticed the angry scowl on Vanessa's. I was so rattled that I also didn't notice that a half-sized Tatanka had manifested and charged ahead of me to clear the way. My panic and fear were apparently causing him to manifest to protect me.

I sat in my chair in my room, shaking, for a few minutes. When Evvie awoke, she looked at me, sitting in my bathrobe holding my blow-dryer, my face pale, and my hair still very wet. "Blow dryer broken?"

I just shook my head feebly, fighting the terror. When I said nothing in response, Evvie shrugged, got out of bed, slipped out of her nightie and into her robe, and went to the bathroom. After a bit, during which I was able to get my emotions mostly back in check, I plugged in my hair dryer at my desk and finished with my hair. I put on my plainest clothes, and only then did I realize that Tatanka was not with me. I hastily recalled him, wondering what he'd been doing while I'd been trembling with fear and then fixing my hair. I sighed again; he'd probably been running up and down the halls terrorizing my cottage-mates.

Vanessa glared at me angrily when I stepped into the hall, and when Ayla came out of the bathroom, she caught my eye momentarily, and then consciously averted her gaze, just as I avoided looking at her. Ayla had a neutral expression, expertly disguising her emotions, but I could see the hurt in _his_ eyes. Given what had panicked me on Friday, and information from some of the other girls, Ayla preferred, and was equipped, to be referred to as male. As I strode toward the stairs past Tennyo's and Generator's room, Generator came out in her robe, heading toward the shower, and after she saw Vanessa's and Ayla's expressions, she, too, glared unpleasantly at me. I lowered my gaze and hastened my step, wanting to get away from all the judgmental girls I was meeting. They had a close relationship, and for some reason, I was on their shit list at the moment, probably because of the Ayla incident. Or Tatanka roaming in the halls. Or them having to go out looking for me last night. Or having had to babysit me while I was in Doyle. Or .... I realized to my dismay that I'd given my cottage-mates more than enough reasons to dislike me.

Most of the Sunday morning rush to the cafeteria was a couple of minutes behind me, so I didn't have to wait long in line to get food. Walking toward the checkout stand, though, became a test of nerves; I was trembling when I set my tray on the rails by the clerk. She quickly input data from my breakfast into the computer, and then she pointed to the scanner, where I was supposed to scan my ID.

"I ... don't have an ID yet," I said, shaking inside as I expected the worst.

The clerk frowned at me. "If you don’t have an ID ...," she began.

I pulled my letter from security out of my pocket. "Security gave me this for the time being," I said meekly. I hoped that she wasn't going to be a bitch about things, but I wasn't optimistic after all I'd been through so far in my short stay here.

The clerk looked at the paper, and then scowled. "Just a moment," she said, stepping quickly toward the back area of the cafeteria, leaving me standing in a line that was rather rapidly backing up. I felt my cheeks burn as other students sighed or snorted in disgust and moved to other checkout lines that were moving. Their snarky, snide, and sometimes insulting comments were difficult to ignore at the very least, and hurtful at most.

I stood at the clerk's station, looking down at my plate in shame, knowing that those going around me were scowling angrily at me for stalling the line and their breakfasts. It felt like an eternity before the clerk came out with an older woman. Once again, I had to explain the issue, and show the letter from security. The older woman looked at me, then at the letter, and then back at me, before she snorted, "It looks okay. Ring her up on the 'overhead' tally." With that, the older woman gave me one final disdainful glare for having upset her routine, and then she stomped angrily to the back, making sure that I knew, in no uncertain terms, that I'd inconvenienced her.

After I got my food, finally, I faced another dilemma. There were three levels, and I'd seen some hint of a social order the night before, so I had no clue which spaces were claimed and which weren't. I glanced at the stairs up to the upper levels, and even that glance was noticed.

"Don't even think about it, freshthing," an older girl sneered at me as she started up the stairway, letting me know in no uncertain terms that the upper levels were far beyond my social status as a new freshman, and that even contemplating going to those levels, let alone dining there, was really looked down on. I glanced around at the tables on the first level. As I moved toward a table that was mostly opened, a girl gave me a withering look, indicating that the table was also considered property of her clique or group. I got the same reaction at three other tables before I decided that many of the tables were already considered reserved, and I had no idea which ones were still 'open'.

Feeling humiliated at being turned away multiple times, I slunk into an out-of-the-way area and simply stood, looking hopefully for a table that wasn't reserved. As the other students walked past me to their tables, some looking down their nose scornfully, others sneering my direction, I felt my eyes watering again, and I quickly chanted the ghost-walking spell, hiding magically from all the rejection and embarrassment. After twenty minutes or so, during which the hot items on my tray cooled to an inedible room temperature while the cool things warmed so as to be equally unpalatable, I saw a couple of tables which were still vacant, apparently unclaimed.

I sat at one of the tables, alone, miserable, and feeling totally out of place as I hesitantly spooned my unappetizingly cold breakfast, which didn't really matter any longer because I'd lost most of my appetite. While the checkout hadn't been as bad as before, it was still demeaning to be treated like I was a criminal whose every action warranted extra scrutiny and suspicion. The fiasco with a simple thing like finding a table reminded me brutally of my non-existent social status. I was getting depressed again.

After a half-hearted attempt at eating, I gave up and carried my tray to the conveyor belt, ghost-walking again, and then dodging enthusiastic, chattering, happy, giggling, and socially interacting students who were actually enjoying their breakfasts. Every so often, I'd see a student without the tell-tale silver aura, some of whom paused and stared at me, making me feel even more self-conscious. I realized that I had yet to eat a meal in the dining hall that seemed normal, let alone even comfortable. In three days, the only real sustenance I'd had was the IV while I was in Doyle, and despite that, the discomfort of the social and ID situations had completely exterminated anything resembling a desire to eat.

Evvie and Naomi walked in with a couple of other girls, pausing in the doorway, Evvie's expression turning into a frown as she looked around. After a quick scan of the lower floor, Evvie stormed up the stairs to a table where Team Kimba sat. Curious and still ghost-walking, I followed her up the stairs. She stood beside the table and was exchanging what appeared to be very harsh words with the girls at the table, and I saw several heads shake, including a few like Ayla who were scowling angrily at whatever Evvie had said. I also sensed that Fey was practically biting her tongue to not say any of what she knew.

When Evvie stormed back downstairs, I followed, and then, because I was still looking at her sitting with Naomi and the other girls, I wasn't watching what I was doing, and I bumped into a boy entering the dining hall. A surge of some type of power coursed through my body. "Hey!" the guy snapped at me, loudly enough that a lot of heads turned to the source of the disturbance. "Watch where you're going, you dimwit!"

I recoiled from the shock and the boy's sharp words, and then I realized, slowly, that the tell-tale silver aura around everyone had vanished. Horrified, I realized that something about the boy had disrupted my ghost-walking spell. I glanced around, and noticed that Evvie was one of those looking toward the source of the disturbance, which was unfortunately me. I turned and scurried out the door, once again fleeing embarrassing and negative attention.

I wasn't really looking where I was going when I suddenly found myself unable to move. I looked up, and found three familiar faces staring at me, although they were keeping their distance. "Leave me alone," I snapped at Nitro, Truck, and TK.

TK grinned, keeping his distance from me. "I think you should apologize for getting my friend Cagliostro in trouble the other day," he said with a nasty smirk.

"He started it!" I snapped at the trio. "Let me go."

TK and Nitro exchanged a knowing grin. "From what? We're not doing anything!"

"You know," Truck sneered, "I think she owes Cagliostro something to make up for getting him on detention. Maybe a date. And a nice makeup kiss."

I glared at them. Without thinking, I manifested Tatanka, who stood between me and the trio, snorting angrily. However, instead of looking intimidated, the guys' grins broadened.

"Kayda, stop!" I heard someone calling from behind me, just as I was about to let Tatanka teach them a lesson. "Don't do it!" It was Evvie's voice.

I managed to turn my body even though my feet remained immobilized. "Why the hell not?" I growled. "These bastards started it."

"Because they're making it look like _you_ started a confrontation so you'll get in trouble," Naomi shouted insistently, running beside Evvie toward me.

I glanced back at the guys, and noticed that their smug smiles had been replaced by scowls directed at Evvie and Naomi, evidence that Evvie was right; it was a setup, and the scene was probably being monitored by security cameras, assuming that the guys hadn't already summoned security toward an incident, thus implicating me and getting me in trouble.

My guess was confirmed when three security officers trotted around the corner of Schuster right toward us. One headed right for me. "Shit!" I cursed.

"Ms. Franks, demanifest your buffalo and come with us." The officer's tone was far from polite.

I glared once more at the perpetrators, and then sighed. "This is a setup," I complained as I demanifested Tatanka. Not surprisingly, I found that I was free to move again. The guys were smart, I had to give him that; this time, they were leaving nothing to implicate themselves, even on security videos.

**********

Kane Hall

"What am I going to do with you, Ms. Franks?" Chief Delarose glared at me from behind his desk. I'd had to wait over forty minutes for him to come into the office on an 'off' day, and I was certain that he resented me for it. "This is your third incident in four days! Fourth if you count the fact that security had to show up when your ... buffalo ... wouldn't demanifest in Doyle. At least there, he didn't interfere with the doctors." He shook his head in frustration. "You're well on your way to setting a record, a record that I don't think either you _or_ I want." His door was closed to keep out noise from the outer office, and quite probably also to keep his conversation with me from snooping ears. "Assuming, of course, that you don't do something that gets you expelled, which, given your track record, you're well on your way to accomplishing."

I wasn't about to cry this time; I was too angry for tears, besides which I felt like I'd completely cried myself out the past couple of days and that particular emotion seemed completely numb. What was left was anger. "I just want to be left the fuck alone!" I swore at him, returning his glare. "But everyone seems to have decided it's 'make Kayda miserable' month, including all of the so-called adults who are supposed to be keeping this place safe for me!"

"You're not helping your case here," Delarose said with a frown, shaking his head as he held the reports. "Three formal security incidents, three times your buffalo has been manifested and has been threatening. And according to informal reports, you've had at least two uncontrolled manifestation within Poe Cottage and one in Crystal Hall, but no-one has been injured - so far." He shook his head, his lips tightly pursed together. "I'm starting to think Hartford was right, that you need a UV armband and should be moved to Hawthorne."

"Go ahead," I snapped at him. "You might as well as long since you're going to let everyone blame me for stuff I don't even start, generally screw up my life, and eventually I'll get too pissed to take any more. Or is that what you're trying to make me do? Maybe you don't really want me, and you're trying to convince me that I should just leave this stupid fucking place."

"And go where?" Delarose shook his head, trying to force himself to be a more sympathetic figure to me, knowing I was quite distraught. "And watch your language," he added with a scowl. I know things seem tough for you right now ...,"

"Tough? Like manifesting, changing, being almost killed a couple of times, being ...." I stopped short; I wasn't about to tell Chief Delarose something that would then go into my security file where God-knows how many people would be able to see. "Losing everything, and then finding myself in a place that's supposed to be a haven for kids like me, but turns out to be hell, almost as bad as what I left? Where I'm a social reject because I'm the new kid, and I'm getting an undeserved reputation as a trouble maker? I'd be better off going home and taking my chances if all this place has to offer me is what I've been through so far! I mean, it's not like there's anyone around here who gives a damn about me!"

I'd pushed past the limit with Delarose. "Stop right there, Kayda," he said sternly, his eyes narrow slits. "There are a lot of people around here who care about you. All the girls who were out looking for you when you just ran off last night - do you think they were searching because they were bored? There were a lot of girls who were taking turns being with you when you were in Doyle." He had his jaw set between phrases, like Dad used to do to emphasize his point. "Your roommate and her friend didn't _have_ to stick around and file reports on today's incident. If they hadn't cared, they'd have just let you get in trouble. You _do_ have people around here who care, or who _would_ care, if you'd let them. You need to quit feeling sorry for yourself and get on with life. Just because nobody rolls out the red carpet and begs you to be friends with them or to join their group doesn't mean that you're a social reject or a leper, as you seem convinced you are. _You_ have to do your part to fit in, too."

I just sat in the chair, glowering at him. What made me angriest, right at that moment, was that I knew that he was right.

"This man speaks wisely, Wihakayda. He knows the lesson of pispiza. You would do well to listen to him," Tatanka chided me.

"Shut up!" I snapped back at Tatanka.

"No, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka chided me firmly. "You need to be still and listen to the wisdom of your elders for a change."

After waiting for a reply that didn't come, Delarose continued, but in a far less harsh tone. "I see in your file that you were ordered to get counseling. That's good. The thing that concerns me, however, is that you are on a suicide watch until you're cleared by Dr. Bellows, but despite that, you keep running off alone."

My jaw dropped at that. The fact that my file noted that I was on a watch of some type wasn't surprising, since Zenith had mentioned it, but being the recipient of a suicide watch stunned me.

"There are some people who take your well-being very seriously. It would help me with my job if you could tell me why Dr. Bellows and Fubar are so concerned. The daily duty orders would note what my security team should watch for."

"I'm surprised half the campus doesn't already know," I replied bitterly. "I'm sure it'll be in the afternoon edition of campus gossip daily, if it isn't there already."

"There are some things in students' files that are highly confidential," Chief Delarose replied. "I'm in a tough spot. Based on your actions, I should move you or give you an armband. You haven't given me any reason _not_ do to so."

"Just ask Dr. Bellows, or Fubar. They'll tell you," I said bitterly.

"They _can't_ tell me," the chief insisted, voicing his frustration, but it wasn't clear whether that frustration was due to his inability to access the data, or due to my attitude. "Those are medical records, and by law, I _can't_ see them." He was studying my expression thoughtfully for a few moments. "Would you tell Mrs. Carson?"

I stared at him for quite a while before I looked down, nodding my head slightly. "Why not? She'll know as soon as word gets around."

The chief picked up his phone and punched in a number. "Liz? Frank," he spoke into the phone. "I know it's Sunday and you're busy with paperwork on our supposed day off, but I've got a student who really needs to talk to one of us, and she's not talking to me."

"No, she won't tell me."

"Yeah, it's her."

"Okay, we'll be right over." He hung up the phone and stood, circling his desk and waiting for me to rise as well. As we walked the short distance from Kane to Schuster in silence, I stared at the sidewalk to avoid the stares that I knew were directed my way. It was humiliating to be seen with security so often, as if I were a criminal.

Schuster Hall was mostly dark, but light filtered through the frosted glass door of the administration suite of offices. We walked right in; one desk was occupied by young boy who was busily working on some data entry. The door to Mrs. Carson's office stood ajar, surprising me that she'd be at work on a weekend. Did the administration and staff _ever_ get a break? I suddenly had a flash of insight that taking care of over six hundred mutant students wasn't a Monday-to-Friday, nine-to-five job. It was probably more like farming - you did the chores when they needed doing and not to some artificial work schedule.

Chief Delarose knocked on Mrs. Carson's open door. "Liz?" he asked simply.

"Come in, Frank," Mrs. Carson invited. She glanced at me, and her expression became carefully neutral. "What's got you in the office on your day off?"

Chief Delarose glanced at me with an unhappy expression. "Guess."

Mrs. Carson sighed. "I saw the preliminary report. Three in four days?" She looked at me. "I get the impression that the only reason it isn't four-for-four is that you spent all of Friday lying unresponsive and sedated in Doyle." She gestured to a chair in front of her desk. "Chief, close the door and wait outside, please." I plopped heavily into a chair and waited for Chief Delarose to leave. Mrs. Carson looked directly at me, her gaze strangely calming. So far, she'd been the only person, apart from Mrs. Horton, that had been helpful in my tumultuous short stay at Whateley. "Now, Kayda, what's going on that's making security take such an interest in you?"

"Is ... this private?" I asked hesitantly.

Mrs. Carson's expression darkened, but only for a fleeting moment. She pressed a button on her desk. "Now it is. Why?"

I tried to look eye-to-eye with her, but lost my nerve. I just couldn't look her in the face while I said what I had to say. "I'm ... I'm afraid."

"Of what?" she asked, her voice soft and sympathetic.

"Of guys," I stopped and swallowed hard. "When I manifested, my ... friends ... tried to kill me. Twice. They almost succeeded. They hurt me pretty badly."

Mrs. Carson nodded without changing her expression. "I saw the report on your admission form."

"There's something that's not on the form. Mostly, because ... I shut out the memories. Dr. Bellows called it traumatic memory loss. When I had a ... breakdown on Friday, they ... found the hidden memories that had caused my ... issue."

"What memories would those be?"

"I was ...." I swallowed again, harder this time, looking down at my hands crossed in my lap. "I ... was ... violated," I finally admitted softly. My words hung in the still air like a dark cloud. "I freaked out Friday morning because of something I saw - on one of the students. It uncovered some of those memories of being ... raped, and I couldn't handle it."

"That would be very traumatic, and would explain your emotional collapse. And because of that, you're ... somewhat terrified ... of boys? And that's why you were frightened of Cagliostro's psychic tricks?" Mrs. Carson speculated quite accurately. I simply nodded, still looking down. Her reaction wasn't quite what I'd expected. It seemed almost like ....

I suddenly realized the truth behind her stoic reaction, and I recoiled as if I'd been physically struck. "You knew!" A second, more horrifying truth hit me like a punch in the gut just a moment later. "And Mom knew, too!" I screamed as I reeled mentally from the implications. "You _all_ knew! And no one told me!"

"Kayda," Mrs. Carson started to reply in a soothing voice.

"And Fubar knew! You all knew, and just left me with this ... thing in my head, and didn't give me any kind of help!" I bawled. "How could Mom do this to me? How could _any_ of you do this?" Half-blinded by tears, I bolted from the chair toward the door. This was my last straw. Now I had nobody, since even my parents had betrayed me. There was nothing left in my life worth living. Everyone had hurt me. I grabbed frantically at the door handle, fumbling blindly for the handle because my eyes were stinging and my vision was obscured by a deluge of tears. "Nobody cares about me!" I bawled, trying to open the door handle that wouldn't budge.

"Kayda, sit down," Mrs. Carson barked her order to me as I struggled with the door that just wouldn't seem to open.

"Why?" I cried angrily, pausing so I could fix my angry, tearful stare on her so she'd _see_ how hurt I was. "Nobody gives a fuck about me! Not even my parents! Everyone _lied_ to me! I don't have anything left!" I spun back to the door and found the handle, fumbling to open the door. And to think - Cornflower and Wish List had recommended this stupid place!

"Kayda, sit down," Mrs. Carson repeated firmly.

I glowered at her. There was no reason for me to listen to _anybody_ anymore, but she wasn't letting me leave, which confused me. I tugged at the door again, but it didn't budge. After several long seconds of silent standoff, I slid back into the chair, slumped down, still bearing my angry, defiant expression as tears poured from my eyes. "It doesn't matter!" I snorted angrily. "Nobody gives a shit about me! Mom probably even told Debra, and told _her_ to lie to me, too! Everyone lied to me."

"Kayda," Mrs. Carson said firmly, trying to catch my attention.

In a renewed surge of blind rage, anger, depression, and feeling of betrayal, I ignored her. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have expected anything to be better! Now everyone is going to tease me about this, or bully me, or treat me like a whore or something!" My rant wasn't exactly rational, given my state of mind. I crossed my arms angrily on my chest, and even that action mocked me. If I'd have been a guy, I would have _never_ had to worry about a situation like this. I wouldn't have been vulnerable and weak. But I wasn't. I was small and vulnerable, and I'd been hideously violated. "There's nothing for me!" I cried bitterly. At that point, the words accurately reflected my mood. "It would have been better if they'd have killed me!"

"No, it wouldn't have, Kayda," Mrs. Carson said firmly, but her expression indicated that she was deeply disturbed by the direction and ferocity of my rant.

"No?" I snapped at her. My emotions were all over the place, spurred by hideous memories and new revelations, of feeling rejected and knowing I was damaged, both physically and mentally. "Nobody in the dorm would hate me anymore! My parents wouldn't care, because their hideous mutant child wouldn't be a problem anymore."

"Kayda, your mother and father and a lot of other people went to great lengths to protect you. They wouldn't have done that if they didn't care about you. They care very much about you. They _love_ you. If you were to do something to yourself, you'd hurt a _lot_ of people who care about you, like your parents, your brother, and your grandmother. And Debra."

I didn't hear her words because I was too busy being angry and full of self-pity. "I should just go back home and go all rager on the guys who did this to me," I said angrily. "I'd get them, and then I'd get put out of my misery!"

"Kayda, that's enough!" Mrs. Carson snapped at me angrily, staring at me with some type of Glare of Supreme Authority that made me want to cower beneath her desk. I shivered involuntarily under her withering look. She waited until I was suitably intimidated, and then her expression softened - a bit. "That kind of violence never helps anything," she said firmly, "and you ending up dead won't help anyone."

There was still anger and a bit of defiance left in me. "So what? It's not like it fucking matters! All anyone has ever done is hurt me anyway!"

"Are you through with your fit yet?" Mrs. Carson asked, having switched to a strangely calm, almost parental voice as she gazed evenly at me.

I stared angrily at her for a few seconds before I dropped my gaze, subconsciously submitting again to her authority, at least temporarily, now that most of my anger had been vented and I was a bit empty and emotionally numb. I dropped my gaze to my lap, my eyes closing for a brief moment. I inhaled and exhaled deeply.

"Kayda," Mrs. Carson's voice was no longer the icy voice of authority, but sounded much warmer and much more concerned. "Your parents knew, and your Mom was worried enough to tell me. Everyone hoped that you were unconscious through your ... ordeal, because you didn't remember, but just in case, your Mom told me what she knew so that we could watch and be ready in case your memories _did_ come back. They were _very_ concerned about how you'd react if you did remember. They were worried that you'd react the way you are, with either anger or suicidal thoughts. Your mom was scared to death that you'd remember and try to kill yourself."

I sat mutely, still staring at my lap and knees, emotionally drained after my furious rant and contemplating what she was saying. I was so angry and upset that I wasn't thinking rationally, but there was still a spark in me that _wanted_ to believe that Mom and Dad really _did_ love me, and that they hadn't deliberately been cruel by not telling me.

"You _did_ have a ticking time bomb in your head," Mrs. Carson continued. "Your parents made sure that we knew about it, so if it did go off, we could intervene before you did something to yourself or to others."

I stared at her, her words not connecting rationally in my angst-filled brain. It _sounded_ like it had been for my benefit, but it hurt so damned much that it didn't make sense that Mom would tell Mrs. Carson before I even knew.

Mrs. Carson continued, "You didn't remember, because your mind blocked out those memories to protect you from psychological trauma. What did you expect them to do, especially with everything else that happened? Tell you what happened and add to everything you were dealing with? Do you really think you could have handled it on top of everything else? Do you think they shouldn't have told me so that _when_ something triggered those memories, we wouldn't be ready in case you tried something stupid like getting violent or suicidal?"

I _wanted_ to believe her. I _wanted_ to think that Mom and Dad hadn't been malicious, but finding out the way I had hurt more than I could describe. I sat, glaring at the desk morosely, struggling to accept what Mrs. Carson had said.

"Your parents are like any other parents - they're not perfect. They made their decision based on their best judgment. You may not agree with what they did, but it was out of concern and love for you. Your Mom and I had a very long discussion, which is why we had you move into Poe yourself. She needed time to discuss this with me, just in case. She and your dad didn't withhold the information with malice or intent to hurt you."

I glanced up, and saw that the hard 'supreme administrator' look in her eyes was gone, replaced by compassion and sympathy. I swallowed hard; I hadn't expected _this_ from her. I'd expected only to get in trouble.

"If you really _had_ been unconscious, would you have been ready to know what happened?"

Her question caught me flat-footed; I hadn't considered that angle at all in my self-pity. "No," I finally said in a tiny voice. "I ... guess not."

"Your mom didn't think so either. I agree with her assessment. That's why Dr. Bellows has you in counseling." She continued, "There are over six hundred students at Whateley. Many of them have had severe difficulties, some, believe it or not, worse than yours. I'm not a counselor, and I don't have time or the training to help every single one who's had problems." I saw the expression on her face; she was genuinely concerned about me, or at least was good at putting on a caring façade. At the same time, her words were telling me that she wasn't going to take any personal interest in me, any more than she did with any other student. "That's why we have counselors on staff. You need to use time with your counselor to help you so you can succeed at Whateley. You're going to meet with Dr. Bellows daily for the time being, even on weekends." If you allow Chief Delarose to note this in your private security file, it would help ... in case there are future incidents like the two you've already had," she added said in an unexpected motherly tone.

I sighed heavily. "Why not? I had to tell a couple of girls in my cottage, so it's probably all over campus by now," I said bitterly. "And if Mom was telling everyone ...."

Mrs. Carson shook her head. "I'm the _only_ one that your mom told. The only person on campus I told was Mrs. Horton, and I hope you understand why. She is the adult who has the most contact with you, and she needs to know if there's a problem lurking in the shadows. As to other student or faculty talking, I can assure you that if any faculty member does find out, they'll keep their mouths shut. And given the ... unique nature of Poe, I'm certain that nobody there would talk."

She sighed. "I'm going to have the Chief write up this incident as a misunderstanding, since there wasn't an altercation and the exchange was purely verbal, and even though you manifested your buffalo in a threatening manner." She paused, and then looked sternly at me with that fearsome administrator look again. "Don't do it again." A thin smile crept onto her lips. "You've been officially reprimanded. I'll have Chief Delarose take you back to Kane to finish the report, and then have someone from Poe come to escort her back to her cottage?"

"Great," I muttered. "More reason for all of them to hate me."

Mrs. Carson heard what I hadn't intended her to hear. "Why should they hate you?"

I shook my head, looking down. "Because all I keep doing is pissing them off," I said bitterly. "They're all friends, and I don't know anyone, and I made a bunch of them hate me when I freaked out, and I'm sure they _adore_ having to take turns babysitting me ...."

"Perhaps you should talk to the girls about what happened, then," Mrs. Carson suggested.

Terror shot through my nerves, accompanied by the sensation of ice-water in my veins. "No," I begged softly, mortified at the thought of telling _more_ people how defiled and damaged I was.

"It's your choice, Kayda," Mrs. Carson assured me, "but I think you'd find your cottage-mates a lot more understanding and supportive than you think, especially in Poe. Poesies ... stick together and help each other in a crisis." She saw me starting to open my mouth, but was quicker to speak. "And no, I know you weren't _really_ a woman until recently, but several of your cottage-mates are in exactly the same position as you." She pushed a button, and after a click at the door latch, Chief Delarose opened it.

"I ... I guess I'll ... think about it," I said slowly. "About a lot of things."

Mrs. Carson gave me a warm smile, reassuring me that even though she was headmistress, she _did_ care what happened to me. "Good. That's all I can ask you to do. That and meet with Dr. Bellows after lunch."

I nodded, afraid to speak again for fear that I would give further offense to her when she was trying to be as supportive as her administrative role would allow. Instead, I silently followed Chief Delarose out of the office, already dismissed by Mrs. Carson, who had returned her attention to the paperwork on her desk.

"I know that was hard to talk about," the Chief said as we walked toward Kane Hall.

"Do you?" I asked, trying to keep the venom out of my voice.

"Kayda," Delarose said with a heavy sigh, "I know you probably won't believe me, but in my life, I've seen people go through things that would quite possibly make anything you've experienced pale in comparison." He paused, and it seemed to me that he shuddered inwardly at what must have been some particularly awful memories. "I'm not saying that what you've experienced is easy, only that others have picked up their lives after very, very traumatic events. If Mrs. Carson or I didn't believe you could handle this, you wouldn't be here at Whateley, because you would need to be somewhere to get some serious help."

I almost bit my tongue to keep from speaking. From my limited view of life, I had a hard time believing there could be worse things, and yet the Chief's expression and tone told me that he honestly believed there were, that he'd personally seen or experienced things that _were_ worse. He was also saying, in his gruff, security-chief way, that he believed in me.

In Kane, I had to sign the security incident report, and while I was doing that, Chief Delarose called Mrs. Horton to have someone come from Poe to get me. That part made me nervous, because I'd already been a huge imposition on a lot of girls who had no reason to like me, and several had reason to dislike me.

I sat, bored, in the office, waiting. A girl came in wearing a blue super-hero costume, complete with a short skirt and a red letter M on her chest, and I figured she was another security auxiliary. When she went to the security desk, I was certain that she wasn't the one who would walk me back to Poe. I sighed; by security and Carson's orders I wasn't allowed to _ever_ be alone, so I had to sit there, bored and waiting for my 'escort'. Meanwhile, the clock was ticking, and I was going to miss yet _another_ meal at the cafeteria - not that I knew what a normal Crystal Hall meal was, since I hadn't had anything even remotely close to a cafeteria meal and socializing like I'd enjoyed in my old school. Not that I was hungry when I thought about the miserable and humiliating experiences I'd already had in the caf.

I let my mind drift halfway into the dream world, seeking refuge from the crappy way my day was going, and was just getting settled into a restful mountain vista, when my real-world self noticed the girl walking toward me. I snapped myself back to the real-world.

The girl had to be one of the upperclassmen, since I hadn't seen her on the freshman floor, but apart from that logical inference, I had no idea who she was. She was precisely what one would think a superhero girl would be - a blonde bombshell with a perfect hourglass figure and plenty of curves. She looked a bit like Hillary Duff, with cornflower blue eyes, and she wore her long blonde hair lose about her shoulders. "Are you Kayda Franks?" she asked.

I simply nodded.

"I'm Marty Penn, but you can call me Megs or Mega-Girl," she said simply, extending her hand. "Mrs. Horton asked me to escort you back to our humble little abode."

"So you got stuck with baby-sitting duty this afternoon?"

Megs shrugged. "It's a nice break from homework. I was supposed to give you a tour the other day, but security apparently had its own ideas of a fun afternoon." She led me out of Kane Hall.

I winced at her attempted joke. It was a sensitive subject to me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to waste your time."

"I wasn't sitting around waiting," Megs laughed. "When Mrs. Horton told me you were at security, I worked on some homework for tomorrow." She changed the subject abruptly, giving me pause to consider that she might be a little scatter-brained and fitting the blonde stereotype. "I'm going to be a superhero," she said with certainty. "I hope the Future Superheroes of America will notice me. I even tried to battle a supervillain over Christmas." She obviously wanted to talk more about herself than about me.

"I got involved in a battle with a supervillain," I commented. I saw Megs' eyebrows rise. "A minor one, really - the Gemologist, and I didn't do a lot, except heal Debra. Tatanka was the one who took him out."

"Who's Tatanka? Is that the white buffalo they say you manifest?" Megs asked with a smile. "Everyone in the dorm is talking about him running up and down the halls, running over people and scaring everyone half-to-death." She laughed again. "At first, everyone thought it was Beltane. She's does a lot of pranks, and since she manifests things from ectoplasm, everyone blamed her."

I nodded meekly. "Yeah. He's ... interesting." I tilted my head toward Melville. "Is Melville really full of obnoxious, snobby rich-kids?"

"A lot of them are," Megs replied easily. "How did you know?"

A ... friend of mine went here. In fact, she was a senior last year."

"Oh really? Who?"

"Debra, uh, I mean Cornflower."

Megs nodded. "Poise had a lot of good things to say about Debra. She's a pretty tough fighter, too. I fought against her a few times in PE." She chuckled. "At least she wasn't one of the bitchy ones."

"She's ... a very good friend," I said, probably purring more than I wanted to. "I healed her after she got pretty badly injured. It's one of the things I do."

Megs nodded in understanding. "What happened with you and Cagliostro on Thursday?"

"He ... tried to use a psychic suggestion that I should find him attractive for his offer to help me move my luggage to Poe."

MG shook her head. "He'll never learn. So what do you do, besides heal people?"

"I'm not sure of everything. I'm an avatar, and I'm learning magic from one of my spirits, mostly Native American magic."

"Exemplar?"

"Yeah."

Megs sighed. "At least you got a pretty nice BIT out of the deal, unlike me. I'm changing pretty slowly due to my MATD."

"MATD?"

"I ... manifest a shell, which is changing me underneath," Megs replied. "I'm slowly becoming a girl, but without my manifested shell, I'm still ...."

It took a second for me to realize what Megs was saying. "No!" I stammered, irrational, wide-eyed, and backing quickly away from her in a panic attack. "No!" I continued backing up until I was against a tree.

Megs, confused, took a step toward me to help. "Kayda?" she asked, concerned by my sudden distraught state.

"No!" I shouted at her, drawing attention to us. "Don't touch me! No! Get away!'

She backed up a step, unsure what to do. She couldn't leave me alone, but I was terrified of her, and wouldn't let her get close. After more than five minutes of Mexican standoff, during which I cowered against a tree while Megs stood, helpless, not knowing what to do but not wanting to come closer and make my panic attack worse, two girls strode quickly toward us from Poe. Mrs. Horton had been alerted by security that we were on our way, and when we didn't show up at Poe in a timely manner, had sent out a couple of girls to look for me. One of the two, Heather from my floor, comforted me, reassuring me that everything was okay, while Zenith took Megs a few steps away and asked what had happened. Megs looked pretty shaken by what had happened, as if it was her fault.

Heather escorted me back to Poe, at which time she handed off my care to Toni because Evvie wasn't in our room. I could tell Toni was very unhappy about that, but she'd drawn the short straw, so she stuck with it, babysitting me again while I calmed down from another panic attack. We didn't talk to each other at all.

**********

HPARC, Black Hills, SD

Ernst sighed heavily as he slid his cafeteria tray onto the table and then eased himself into a chair.

"What's up now?" a man already seated at the table asked rhetorically. He'd known Ernst for over a decade, and recognized the heavy sigh of something heavily weighing on Ernst's mind.

Ernst shook his head slowly. He could discuss this issue here; in level eight of HPARC, security was more than tight. "We probably have a psychic leak in one of the containment tunnels."

Del Flannery's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "You're shitting me, right?"

"I wish I was. We had some psychic energy that tripped some alarms. It was coming into and leaving somewhere on level ten."

"Holy shit!"

"You said it," Ernst said needlessly. "Hazel over at NACAC looked at it, and she thinks that something that's supposed to be in suspended cryo-freeze is dream-walking, and the psychic energy is slipping through all our shielding."

"Damn. So what are you going to do? Send a team down there to reseal the shields and wards?"

Ernst went white at the idea. "That's not my first preference, no. Some of those things - how would we contain them while we're resealing the tunnels? And how would we keep the workers sane?"

"Reseal a new tunnel, and then shuffle things around, one at a time, resealing behind them."

Ernst nodded. "I thought of that. And even _that_ minimal-exposure idea scares the crap out of my team." He took a sip from the coffee cup on his tray; the subject wasn't helping his appetite at all, even though he _knew_ he had to force himself to eat. "I guess we'll figure out something. Maybe we can get Charlie and someone from ARC to help us when we move things." He picked up a turkey sandwich from a plate on his tray. "What's new in your area?"

Del's eyes lit up. "We're sending a team tomorrow to the near Erie, Pennsylvania. We found a dead Mishibijiw, or rather, some unfortunate soul found a dead Mishibijiw."

"The water panther? I thought they were pretty benign."

Del grimaced. "Not this one. Someone, or something, infused it with some Class X magic or power. The guy who found it and tried to move it is now totally incoherent, and quite probably insane."

"Yikes!"

"Yeah, you said it. According to his buddies that saw the whole thing, he recognized it as an old Algonquin legend, and wanted to try to make some money off the remains. He was okay until he tried to tie a rope onto it to winch it up into his pickup. We've never seen a Mishibijiw, live or dead, but all the stories and lore rate them as class 3 spirits, and mostly neutral." Chris took out his cell phone. "Here are some pictures."

Ernst flipped through the pictures on the phone. "Hmmm. It looks like this thing was in one hell of a battle."

"My section is curious what could kill this thing."

"It looks like, before the guy went nuts, he got something off it. Look how bloody the tail spikes are," Ernst observed.

"That was how they found it," Del countered. "Someone, or some _thing_, knew to take the copper spikes from its tail. According to legend, they have powerful magic in them."

Ernst's eyes bugged out. "Are those also infused with whatever Class X thing we've got on this critter?"

Del shrugged. "We don't know. They might not have been tainted. If they _were_ tainted though, then whoever got them is insane now, or is immune, in which case we have an even bigger problem."

**********

Whateley Academy

By lunchtime, I'd calmed down a lot from my second panic attack, and I went to Crystal Hall with Evvie and Naomi. After a relatively normal checkout - for a change - we joined some of their friends at a table. "Everyone," Evvie said cheerfully to get people's attention, not that she had to, because the small group was already looking at me, "this is my roommate Kayda. Kayda, this is Laurie, Adrian, Rhiannon, and Vasiliy."

We shook hands after I'd set down my tray; Laurie seemed nice; she was a pretty, curvy, black girl who seemed rather quiet, as though she was analyzing everything around her with slow, measured deliberation.

Laurie sat next to Adrian, and his attention seemed to switch periodically between her and everything else, with everything else getting a far smaller share of his focus. He had that goofy look on his face that I'd seen on guys before which advertised that anything besides Laurie was purely a distraction. The two were so obviously an item. He was an average-sized guy, but there was keen intelligence burning behind his hazel eyes, telling anyone who paid attention that under his semi-unkempt mop of red hair was a mind hard at work. Adrian seemed to contemplate each and every word spoken by those around him, filing away data in case he ever needed it, and responding in a very precise manner. In an odd way, he was a living dichotomy - clearly very enamored with Laurie and emotionally responsive to her, but also cool and calculating with others.

Vasiliy, on the other hand, was gregarious to a fault. He was stouter than Adrian, with close-cropped dark hair capping an angular face that was reminiscent of older movie-stars that were considered to be ruggedly handsome. The odd thing was Vasiliy's eyes -his irises seemed larger, and they had an orangish-red hue that flickered and wavered like flames burning inside them. If he'd have had horns, he would have looked totally demonic. Vasiliy did a half-bow when he shook my hand; his personal attention was unnerving in a way. "Am pleased to meet you," he said in a thick Russian accent.

Rhiannon was the girl Mom and I had met in the administration building, Sanctuary. "I remember you. You and your mom were checking in on Thursday." She gave me a smug little smile. "I heard that you were introduced pretty quickly to the insanity that is Whateley."

I nodded. "Yeah. Misunderstanding. And security got pretty pissed about Tatanka."

"Who's Tatanka?" Laurie asked, puzzled. She got stares of disbelief from the others at the table.

"You haven't heard of the white buffalo Kayda manifests?"

Laurie shook her head. "No. I've been pretty busy."

I sighed, and then had Tatanka manifest himself, Labrador-sized. "This is my white buffalo, Tatanka. Normally he rummages around in my brain, but I can have him manifest, too, in different sizes. I'm an avatar."

Tatanka focused with laser-intensity on Rhiannon. He stepped to her side, and said something in that old language he'd used with Fey.

Rhiannon frowned, and then shook her head. "I ... don't understand."

"I'm sorry," Tatanka said in English. "I thought that you'd speak the ancient language of the Sidhe like the queen does."

Rhiannon's expression became guardedly neutral at the reference to Fey. Maybe there was bad blood between the two of them? Perhaps it was a bad assumption that, since she was Sidhe like Fey, the two got along. Since her reaction had been neither positive nor negative, maybe she was cautiously neutral toward Fey as her expression indicated. I decided to demanifest Tatanka to avoid getting more unwanted attention.

As we sat, Laurie decided to be inquisitive. "Where are you from, and what do you do?"

I felt nervous, but I got a tiny reassuring nod from Evvie. "I grew up on a farm near a small town in rural South Dakota," I said meekly. "I've got Lakota spirits rummaging around in my brain, making me feel a little schizophrenic at times."

"Is that like Sioux Indians?" Naomi asked. In all my interactions with Naomi, the subject of my background and abilities had never come up.

I chose to use the polite response rather than the 'ethnically offended' answer that some automatically chose to try to shame the inadvertent offender who'd chosen his words poorly. "The proper term is Lakota," I tried to smile. "And most people say Native American so they don't confuse us with people from India. Others say the First Nations." I shrugged. "I started out only one quarter Lakota, but ..." I didn't need to tell others; we _were_ at a school for mutants where body changes were quite common. "My spirit mentor has taught me some spells, like ghost-walking and healing."

"What's ... ghost-walking?" Adrian asked, having momentarily diverted his attention from Laurie. His accent was unmistakably British, but not the snobbish upper-crust accent that most Americans associated with England. Rather, it sounded like a working man's accent.

I smiled and then incanted quickly. The others at the table took on the silvery aura that told me that they could no longer see me. It was amusing to watch their perplexed expressions at my sudden disappearance, and even more so when I touched them, one after another, and they could see me as the translucent image that Mom had described. After a few seconds, I let the spell go. "That was ghost-walking," I said. "It's a technique to allow a shaman to escape detection by his enemies."

"Way cool!" Naomi exclaimed, garnering us a little attention from surrounding tables and students. "What else can you do?"

I shrugged, trying not to sound like I was bragging. "I can do some healing, and my mentor spirit is trying to teach me more of her spells." I frowned. "And I've got a special Lakota knife, or at least, I will have if security ever trusts me to handle it again."

Laurie raised one eyebrow, reminding me of a character on an old science fiction TV show. "So you're a mage, too? What type of magic do you use?"

"Wakan Tanka ... uh, my mentor, is teaching me Native American magic, which is nature-based." Damn, I hadn't intended to mention my mentor's name. As Tatanka had told me, I should follow wiciteglega, the raccoon, and practice disguise and misdirection because such skills misled would-be opponents.

"You are learning, Wihakayda," Tatanka said. He seemed a little smug, or proud of what I'd done. I was going to have to figure out a way to get that smart-alec bison.

"What about you guys?"

Laurie glanced around to see if someone else was volunteering to go first. "I'm a healer and an empath. And I'm from Houston."

"If you're from Houston, where's the Texas twang?" I asked wryly.

"All y'all awlways think that us Texas folk taallkkk with some kinda' foreign-soundin' twaaanngg," Laurie giggled in a thick, faux accent.

Adrian tore his gaze from Laurie to look at me. "I grew up in Bristol. I fly, and I'm a telekinet, but not very powerful one."

"What's your story?" I asked Vasiliy, only too late realizing that I shouldn't have asked, because, from the way he was looking at me, he was interpreting my inquiry as interest in him. His flame-like eyes were quite noteworthy, even captivating, or rather, would have been if I didn't have a strong phobia about guys. I notice the large stack of food in front of him. "I'd guess that you're an energizer?"

Vasiliy grinned broadly. "Am from St. Petersburg," he said proudly. "And is correct - am energizer. I absorb energy attacks, and can shoot shock grenades. And am devisor," he added as if talking about the weather."

I wrinkled my nose. "Shock grenades? What are those?"

Vasiliy chuckled. "Is concentrated ball of force and energy that I project. When they expand, is like an explosive shock wave of RPG."

"That sounds pretty cool."

"Would you like demonstration sometime?" Vasiliy asked, looking hopefully at me.

Evvie and Naomi noticed. Fortunately for me, they were in 'protective' mode. "And just what would your little French tart say if she saw you flirting with another girl?" Evvie demanded. Her words cowed Vasiliy, and with a chuckle, she glanced at me. "Vasiliy has his eye on Chat Bleu, er, Monique, but she sometimes pretends that she doesn't even know that he exists."

Vasiliy frowned. "Does know that I exist. Is playing hard to get, but is very attracted to handsome boy from Russia!" The fact that Vasiliy had his eye on another girl calmed my tattered nerves somewhat. We talked some about classes, with me prompting to get ideas and hints for the classes in which I was so far behind.

"I noticed that everyone has a code name. Is it common to talk to people with their code names, or their real names?" I asked, curious to get an answer to a question I'd noted but hadn't had time to ask yet.

Laurie smiled. "My code name is Nursing, because of my healing power. Adrian also goes by Harrier, because he can fly ..."

"Like the jet? And you," I looked at Rhiannon, "are code-named Sanctuary, right?" I smiled at the others. "We met on Thursday when we arrived at school."

"Go by RPG," Vasiliy said, puffing his chest out a bit, "because power is like RPG. After manifested, Russian army and MCO sent troops. Took out three tanks and five BMPs, just like RPGs hit them. Managed to get to American consulate, where was given special mutant visa."

My jaw dropped. "You took out tanks?"

Vasiliy shrugged. "Were older model tanks. Not sure how power would work on newer tanks."

I realized that I'd missed quite a bit of information about one member of our group, so I turned to Naomi. "Okay, you're holding out on me. What's your story?"

Naomi glanced momentarily at Evvie, and then shrugged. "I'm a gadgeteer. Not a very good one, either."

In my peripheral vision I saw movement toward us. Three older students strolling very deliberately our way, looking pointedly at me. In the lead was a boy over six feet tall and as muscular for his size as I had once been, which was to say quite well-built. His features practically screamed exemplar Native American. Flanking him were two girls, the one on the left being a stunningly-gorgeous blonde with green eyes, and the one on the right being a lanky, six-foot girl with steel-grey eyes and russet hair. I suspected some type of theme or group thing going on.

"They're the Wild Pack," Evvie hissed at me, as if I'd know who they were.

"Hi," the tall boy said directly to me. "I'm Adam Ironknife, also known as Stormwolf. You must be Kayda." He offered his hand.

I nervously shook his hand, noting the way his eyes were fixed on me. My nervousness around guys returned with a vengeance; I was fighting to keep from fleeing from Stormwolf.

"I'm Dale Townsend," the blonde introduced herself. "Better known as Mindbird.

"And I'm Diana Ritter, AKA Thunderfox," the tall girl completed the introductions.

Mindbird was staring at me, her eyes narrowed. After a moment, she frowned, and then turned on her tiptoes to Adam and whispered something in his ear. "I'd love to stay and talk more," Adam said suddenly, "but I have other things to take care of."

"Do you mind if we join you?" Dale asked pleasantly.

"Cut the shit," Adrian snorted. "You guys don't dine with mere freshmen on a whim. What's going on?"

I expected an angry reaction, but Mindbird glanced at Thunderfox and laughed. "Not one for subtlety, are you?"

"Not when security - or security auxiliaries - are involved."

"Does this have to do with my ... encounters with security?" I asked suspiciously.

Mindbird glanced at Thunderfox again, and then smiled sheepishly at me. "There are a lot of people who suspect that TK, Truck and Nitro are going to try something again, and they don't want you or your buffalo going medieval all over them. The word around campus is that buffalo can tear the hell out of a brick."

"If they start something," I said in a determined, grim tone, "I'll make sure I finish it."

Mindbird frowned at me. "No, you won't. Not unless you want to get yourself expelled."

Thunderfox nodded in agreement and continued the explanation. "That buffalo of yours has been threatening too many people, including security officers and doctors. You need to start demonstrating some control if him before he hurts or kills someone and you get in serious trouble."

"So security and the administration expect me to just take whatever shit someone hands me? To roll over and be a good target for bullying?" To say that I was bitter and a bit angry about their suggestion was understating things by an order of magnitude. My voice was raised enough that we were drawing attention from surrounding students.

Mindbird shook her head. "Nobody is suggesting that you have to sit still for bullies. You do need to remember a few things, though. That buffalo of yours _is_ dangerous, and people know it. There's no denying what it did to a brick."

"They started it," Evvie protested my defense.

Thunderfox snorted her disagreement. "That doesn't matter. It tore apart a brick! Some people don't think you have control of it and would like to see you moved or expelled. Some of the 'tough guys' might feel like they need to prove themselves against your buffalo. Some of the bullies might think that the security warnings are keeping you from retaliating, and putting a 'free shot' sign on your back. You have to understand that Whateley is full of kids who were victims before they manifested, and now that _they_ have the powers ...."

"So you're saying that I've made myself an even bigger target for the bullies on campus?" I saw Mindbird and Thunderfox exchange a knowing glance. "Just freakin' great."

Mindbird ticked off a third finger as she counted. "You've made a few enemies, like Cagliostro, TK, Nitro, and Truck. You may be able to handle Truck with your buffalo, but TK is telekinetic."

I frowned. "So that's how he kept me from moving."

"He probably held your shoes down telekinetically," Mindbird explained. "It's one of his favorite tricks."

Thunderfox shook her head. "Getting back to the main topic, your worst problem right now is your tendency to go running off alone."

"I like to meditate outdoors," I protested. "It's part of my spirit's way."

"And it's a terrible idea," Mindbird replied, shaking her head. "First, you're vulnerable when you're alone. We've had a few attacks on lone students, most recently when a student was badly beaten and nearly killed."

Naomi and Evvie frowned deeply at that; it was pretty widely known who had been responsible, and the fact that they got away with it angered a lot of the students, including many in Poe.

"You could be on someone's target list, so being alone is a _bad_ idea. It's also a violation for you."

Evvie and Naomi gave me a knowing glance, but Laurie, Vasiliy, Rhiannon, and Adrian looked puzzled. "I'm ... not supposed to be alone," I muttered softly.

"And that's an order from security and the administration," Thunderfox punctuated the point.

"Why?" Laurie asked the question on everyone's mind.

I looked at my plate. "It's ... personal," I mumbled.

When the group looked questioningly at the two girls, Mindbird just shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You aren't supposed to be alone, and you know it."

A change of focus of this discussion was needed to get away from me being on a suicide watch. It was easiest to nudge the conversation back to the attacks by TK, Nitro, Truck and Cagliostro and the threat of future attacks, since it wasn't too far from the topic of the Wild Pack dining with us. "So what are you guys - and security - going to do to protect me from being beaten or killed? Is the idea to put me under some kind of house arrest or protective custody, so someone can keep an eye on my dangerous and out-of-control buffalo? Or am I just a target, and sorry, but we warned you?" I couldn't help sounding snarky.

"What we're trying to tell you is that you need to be careful. Security can't watch every student every minute of every day." Mindbird was sounding a little exasperated at my pissy mood.

"What you're telling me is that, among the bullies, the macho-challenged assholes, and the pranksters, I'm on my own, right?" I snapped back at them. "Because just like real life cops, you and security don't prevent crime but just show up after the fact to take care of the victims and maybe find the perps?"

Thunderfox just shook her head at me. "You've really got an attitude, don't you?"

"I've been a victim enough already," I snarled at the two of them, "even before I came here! My so-called friends tried to kill me twice, and they ...." I caught myself, ending up clenching my jaw so tightly that it hurt, and breathing sharply through my nose as I fought my swirling emotions. I'd almost said more than I intended - again. "They broke damned near every bone in my body. Do you really expect me to put up with more of that stuff?"

"Maybe you should consider a 'non-violent' armband," Mindbird suggested.

"Just how fucking naïve do you think I am?" I hissed that them, loud enough to draw more attention from tables around us. "Those kinds of so-called solutions draw bullies and pranksters like shit draws flies. I _lived_ through that kind of crap once in my life. I'm not doing it again."

Evvie changed the subject to our planned shopping trip to outfit me and my half of the room in an effort to keep me from getting more upset, and I was surprised when Mindbird and Thunderfox stayed with us and even contributed suggestions of what I might want or need. I was very certain that their presence was no accident, but had been arranged by security to keep watch on me. Whether that was because of the threat of violence to me, or the fear of me doing violence to myself, or because I'd been bad about following the watch order, wasn't clear, and I wasn't about to ask.

The mood lightened considerably as the meal and discussion wore on, and I was even chuckling a bit at some of the more creative - and harmless - pranks that people were pulling. Eventually, we bused our trays, and Evvie, Naomi, and I started back towards Poe. Mindbird was still with us, leading me to believe that someone thought a threat was imminent. The other possibility was that the administration or security wanted someone closer to my age to try to persuade me to tone down my attitude and follow the rules.

"Can we talk?" Mindbird finally asked bluntly.

I looked warily at her, and then nodded, stopping in the brick walkway.

Evvie and Naomi took the hint. "We'll see you in a bit."

"Remember, you were going to go to the bookstore with me this afternoon," I reminded them.

After the two were a good distance away, Mindbird shook her head. "Why are you throwing off so much anger and fear?" she asked. "I'm a PDP, and I can sense it a mile away. Like when Stormwolf shook hands ...." Her eyes widened as her words stirred a memory flash about meeting him. "You were _terrified_ of him."

"I thought you were protecting me psychically," I complained bitterly to Tatanka.

"I will protect you when you are in danger," he explained. "This one is not a danger."

"Why are you afraid?" Mindbird asked.

I honestly didn't want to tell her, but in my heart, I knew that I was going to have to confront the truth and tell people what had happened. The question was whether I trusted Mindbird enough. But as I was debating whether to tell her, I found myself blurting, "I was raped, okay? Is that what you want to know?" I asked bitterly, not knowing whether to turn away in shame, or defiantly dare her to say something, anything, disparaging about me.

"Oh, God!" she said simply, shocked. "That explains ... everything!" Her expression turned sympathetic, like perhaps she really cared. "Are you getting counseling? Because if you're not, you should."

"I get to visit Dr. Bellows daily," I complained. "And he's the one who put me on ... a watch." I saw a strange look in her eyes. "You guys ... are part of that watch, aren't you?"

Mindbird nodded silently. "They didn't tell us why, only that you were to be watched. We all figured it was because of Cagliostro and Truck. You have my word that I won't tell anyone," she added, guessing my concern.

I turned and resumed walking toward Poe, leaving her scrambling to catch up to me. "Now you understand why I'm such an emotional wreck."

"Who wouldn't be?" she asked. "You've been through a lot."

"And all this happened in the last month. Mutate, get beaten and assaulted, have the MCO all over my ass, get here, get in trouble four times in four days, have an emotional meltdown ... and I haven't even got a class schedule I didn't get an ID, so the cafeteria wouldn't let me eat." I shook my head. "Put anyone through all that crap and see if they're not a complete basket-case, too." I shook my head slowly. "And from what you were saying, I get the feeling it's not over by a longshot."

"How about if you look at it in a little more positive light? If you've gotten through all of that, you should be able to get through some minor bullying and pranks," Mindbird offered hopefully. I don't think she didn't know what else to say.

I was silent for a bit as I considered whether she might be correct. After all, Dr. Bellows had told me that my attitude was an important part of how I dealt with this, and so far, I'd had a very pessimistic attitude. We walked silently for a few moments before I decided to change the subject. "Stormwolf - is that his name? He's Tilamook, isn't he?"

Mindbird looked at me with a curious expression. "I don't know. You'd have to ask him. And how would you know what tribe he's from, anyway? Aren't there like hundreds of different tribes?"

"We call them 'Nations'. As to how I knew, Wakan Tanka, my spirit, told me." I shrugged. "Someone told me that Mr. Lodgeman has a Native American group. Does Stormwolf know anything about that?"

"Yeah. He occasionally goes to some of their gatherings. Why?"

"Can you ask him to send me information about the next meeting? I think that I ... need to get involved in some campus activities. I ... don't think I ... could get up the nerve to ask."

Mindbird smiled warmly. "That's a lot better attitude than the angry mood you had in the caf a few minutes ago. I'll tell him you'd like the information."

The conversations I'd had with Mrs. Carson, Chief Delarose, and Mindbird were spinning through my head as we entered Poe. I thanked Mindbird for her time, and then knocked on Mrs. Horton's door. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked meekly.

"Sure," she said, turning away from a pile of paperwork on her table. "What can I do for you?"

When I told her what I was thinking, her eyes were like saucers. "Are you sure, dear?" she asked me.

"Yes. Before I chicken out," I answered nervously.

**********

Rosebud Indian Reservation, South Dakota

Dan Bear Claws sighed when the phone rang, turning his attention away from the keyboard at which he'd been furiously pecking. As he picked up the phone, he glanced at the caller ID. "Bear Claws," he answered simply. "How is the project going?"

"We had a minor setback," the voice on the other end answered.

"Setback?" Dan roared angrily. "I'm paying for results, not setbacks!"

"One of my operatives got a little ... careless."

"Then you should get better operatives."

"There's only so much I can do to influence them before it becomes obvious," the voice replied. "You _did_ ask for discretion."

Dan sighed. "Yes, I did." He paused to think a moment. "I presume you'll continue trying?"

"Of course," the voice sounded gruffly. "You paid for results. You'll get results."

"Good," Dan retorted sharply. "I want her home within two weeks."

"She'll be off campus by their Easter break." The other end of the line disconnected, leaving a very frustrated Dan Bear Claws sitting at his desk, fuming over the setback. His schedule, and the spring rituals, depended on having the girl there very soon. Otherwise, _his_ credibility as a worthy leader would be in jeopardy. But there was nothing he could do, except trust the one he'd contracted for the job. Unless .... A thought poked into Dan's mind. If he were to visit the girl and make a personal appeal, drawing on the ties of her ancestry ....

**********

Whateley Academy

After an appointment with Dr. Bellows, Evvie and Naomi took me shopping for clothes and some basic school supplies. I didn't know what I'd need for books yet; I'd find out in the morning when I got to my course counselor, but I did need uniforms and other basic school supplies, like a backpack and notebooks. The most important were the uniforms, so I wouldn't so conspicuous. Anyone not in a uniform stood out, and at that time, I wanted to blend in and not be noticed.

I was amazed at the bookstore; it was more like a strange union of a bookstore with a department store. Besides uniforms, there were racks and shelves of lots of clothing, from underwear to parkas, purses, and shoes. There was a section of first-aid supplies, foods and snacks, and household goods like bedding. Finally, there were shelves and shelves of books, neatly organized by department and class, and then a large selection of generic books. Imagine taking a Target department store, grafting on a Barnes and Noble bookstore, and then merging in a supermarket and a Radio Shack-on-steroids, and then sprinkling in a regular school bookstore with a few oddball things like magic supplies. That's what it seemed like, and to fit it all in, the store was built with several levels below ground, so to outward appearances it wasn't nearly as large as it really was inside.

Following Evvie's direction, our first stop was the customer service counter, where I discovered, to my shock, that Mom had deposited almost fifteen thousand dollars in a shopping account for me. Evvie's comment was a delighted, "Oh, goody!" as she rubbed her hands together gleefully, anticipating a very good day shopping.

Shopping was almost as much fun as when the Sioux Falls League girls and I went out; it wasn't so much the shopping as it was time together, not worrying about other things, joking and giggling together, then daring me to try various articles of clothing. In short, what I'd always considered to a stereotypical girls' shopping experience - and the funny thing was that I liked it. It was pleasant, distracting, and downright fun - precisely the psychotherapy that I needed.

I was pretty well set for basic clothing, like jeans, blouses and shirts, underwear, and basic shoes, but Evvie made sure I got a watch and a couple pair of shoes. I objected to the type of watch they picked out for me as being too feminine, but Evvie and Naomi were persistent until I relented. I'd realized that they weren't going to give up, and I couldn't just stall, because they were leading me to the 'accessory' stuff first. It only took a moment to figure out what they were doing, because if I'd have planned such a shopping spree, I would have done the non-essential things first, so my 'target' couldn't spend too much time objecting and arguing about possible purchases and recommendations, because the essential items still needed to be obtained.

As we were shopping, Evvie commented that while I was at my appointment, she'd gotten a note for a mandatory meeting in the common room that evening, and that most of the girls they'd talked to before we went shopping had received the same note. Naomi acknowledged that she'd gotten one, too. I hadn't gotten such a note, which caused further them to further about the purpose of the meeting. Had someone done something wrong? Evvie even speculated that it was about my buffalo and precautions to take if I accidentally manifested Tatanka, since I hadn't gotten an invite.

I had most of my dorm essentials, but I got a few more toiletries, like more female supplies and tissues, and a few snacks. Evvie strongly suggested that I get a music player, because she wasn't sure that I'd share her taste in music, so I got a multi-purpose player/radio, and that led to picking up a few CDs. Both girls turned up their noses at my music selections, because I liked older music that Mom and Dad always played in the house, and parodies like Weird Al Yankovic. Knowing where I was from, they both threatened that if I got any country music, I'd forever regret it; I knew enough to know that girls played dirty when they were plotting revenge, and that I didn't want any part of that.

Evvie talked me into getting a small coffee-maker, I picked up coffee supplies and snacks, we got some basic school supplies, and then we finally got to the uniforms. I picked up five white blouses, three skirts, two of the Whateley blazers, and a Whateley sweater. The convenient thing about the store was that, at each 'department', we could leave our selections, where they were put into a set of labeled bins for transport up to the main checkout area. It was like a fancy airport baggage transport system, probably created by some devisor or gadgeteer. If the store hadn't had that, it would have taken us five or six trips up and down the escalators to get everything to the checkout line.

We had to borrow a large cart to transport all my purchases back to Poe, and as we tugged it along the pathway, I thought I saw Thunderfox and a friend watching me. I gulped; right at that moment, transporting a lot of things from the store, I wasn't exactly paying attention to my surroundings, and we were quite vulnerable to even simple pranks like a speedster pushing our cart away so it careened down a hill. I silently cast a shield around the three of us and the cart while I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of possible troubles.

On Evvie's and my door, back in Poe, was taped a folded paper, addressed to me. I glanced, and Evvie gave me a half-smile. "You, too, huh?"

I unfolded the note.

"There is a mandatory meeting tonight at 8:30 pm in the common room. If you cannot attend due to conflicts, please see Mrs. Horton prior to the meeting to arrange a makeup discussion."

"Any idea what this is about?" Naomi asked. I could tell her curiosity nearly overwhelming. "From what I've heard, no-one in Boys town has gotten one," she added.

I shrugged. "I've only been here a couple of days," I replied, "and most of that was in either Doyle or Kane. I guess we'll have to wait to see after dinner." I tried to sound philosophical about the unusual meeting.

I shrugged. "I've only been here a couple of days," I replied, "and most of that was in either Doyle or Kane. I guess we'll have to wait to see after dinner." I tried to remain philosophical about the unusual meeting when all around me were filled with intense curiosity. I was too tired and too down to feel curious.

After we got all my purchases put away, except for the clothes, which I left on the bed, Naomi and Evvie offered to take the cart back so I could get some laundry done, including washing my new outfits. My laundry basket was nearly full after I added the new garments, so I pulled on my buckskin dress and my moccasins, which I found more comfortable than shoes anyway. For some reason that I couldn't explain, wearing the dress and mocs made me feel a little more comfortable, and at the same time, I knew it made me look a bit more exotic.

Eyes tracked me as I strode down the hall and stairs, carrying my laundry basket. I smiled to myself; the boys were looking at me as a curiosity, and some of the girls had surprised, or even desirous expressions. I simply ignored the gazes and went to the laundry room and began to sort my things for washing. Though I'd hated all those chores, Mom had always told me that I would appreciate knowing how to do things around the house when I was older, though I'd expected the lessons to not be helpful for another few years.

The blazers hung in the wardrobe in my room, since they were dry-clean only. The labels on the mid-weight wool skirts claimed that they, too, were to be dry-cleaned, but I knew from Mom that they wouldn't be ruined if I used a gentle washing cycle with a special detergent and hung them to dry. I put in two loads, since there were two free washers, and went out to the common room to sit and watch TV, not that there was anything useful on. After a few minutes of mindless drivel on the boob tube, I decided to get my history book to read. I was behind on that, and I knew that Tractor would be nagging Cornflower about my studies.

I got stuck on the stairway doing the 'hallway shuffle'; I was going down, and a girl I hadn't seen before was going up. "You're the new girl, aren't you?" The girl speaking had olive skin and wavy black hair hanging past her shoulders, with a strange twinkle in her eyes as if she was amused at seeing a new student. "Kaylee?"

I wasn't sure what to make of this girl; I hadn't seen her in Poe before. "Kayda," I corrected her.

"Oh, sorry. Are you Native American, or do you just like to dress like that?" She sounded curious and a little snooty.

"Lakota," I replied, my tone a bit icy, not really liking her attitude at all. "And this is not just decorative."

"It doesn't look like daily wear," the girl said. "It's quite pretty."

I was disarmed by her compliment. "Thanks. I like it because it's so comfortable and it reflects my heritage." It occurred to me that she hadn't introduced herself. "You are ...?"

The girl smiled. "I'm Semi, but I also go by Sahar. I'm a ... friend ... of Zoe."

I saw a sparkle in her eye when she mentioned Zenith that I'd seen before - in Debra when we said goodbye and I promised to keep in touch. It was also the look that my roommate Evvie and Naomi sometime shared. I couldn't help but wonder if _I_ had that look sometimes when I was with Debra, or thinking of being with her.

"She's helped me out quite a bit in my brief time here," I said with a smile. As Mom always told me, it doesn't take a lot of work to be nice to people. Most people, anyway. I stepped to one side and stood, gesturing that I was ceding the right of way to end the odd little staircase dance.

I'd just finished putting away my laundry when Evvie and Naomi came in the room. Mom would have been proud of the way I'd hung up and folded my clothing. I would never admit it to her, but the lessons in household chores actually _were_ proving to be useful, just as she'd always said when she was nagging me to do them.

"Dinner time," Evvie announced. "Laurie and Adrian were heading over to the caf."

"I'm not really that hungry," I protested. "I got some snacks, so just go on without me."

Naomi took hold of my elbow and tugged me off my bed. "Nope. You're coming with us."

My plaintive look didn't help; all it got was Evvie taking my other arm to keep me from backing out. "Okay, you win."

With only moderate hassle at the checkout line because I had the letter from Chief Delarose instead of an ID, we met Laurie, Naomi, and Adrian at a table, and were joined moments later by Vasiliy and Rhiannon. Within minutes of our sitting down, Thunderfox, in her body armor, joined us, dampening conversation worse than if she'd been merely a wet blanket. Of course, her presence and obvious watch over me stirred up more interest among the group about _why_ security was so interested in me, and it was harder to distract the conversation than it had been at lunch. There was some lighthearted speculation that I was the daughter of a big superhero or supervillain, to which I chuckled despite how hurt that made me feel inside. From the look she gave me, I knew that Evvie had sensed my hurt feelings, and she tried to steer the conversation to something more innocuous.

Most of the group were in beginning martial arts, which was apparently difficult and had two very demanding instructors. I sat quietly for that conversation, since I wasn't yet in classes, and had no desire to take classes in martial arts from asshole teachers.

Thunderfox escorted me back to Poe Cottage, with Evvie and Naomi. Thunderfox was a gadgeteer for the Wild Pack and thus knew Naomi, but she wasn't an esper like Mindbird. She had no reason to know that I was angry or upset during the meal, so she just played silent bodyguard. As Thunderfox turned to leave, her mission complete, I called out to her, "We have to stop meeting like this," trying to sound sultry and seductive.

Thunderfox just rolled her eyes and walked off, shaking her head and muttering about 'crazy Poesies', while Evvie and Naomi were struggling to keep from laughing aloud, and mostly failing.

**********

By the time we got back from dinner, there wasn't much time left for speculation about the meeting. I got a few more unpleasant glares from Jade and Bugs as I walked past them, and when they got to the common room, they sat apart from me. I was very conscious of getting stares, some curious, some disapproving, from the girls as they all gathered. I sat alone at a small table, having come in later than Evvie or Naomi, who were already sitting at a full table. I was feeling more and more self-conscious and nervous at this large gathering.

Girls from every floor, from freshmen to seniors, filed slowly into the room, and the buzz of conjectures and guesses hung over the room like a vocal fog, filling chairs around tables, but conspicuously, no one joined me at my table. I felt like a leper, like I was tainted. It didn't help my feeling of being welcomed or accepted, but added to my sense of isolation and doom. I fought to push those negative feelings aside.

The soft thud of the door closing silenced the room. Heads pivoted immediately, to see Mrs. Horton walking deliberately to one side of the room. Chairs squeaked on the tile floor as they turned toward where she halted and faced the group.

"I know you are all wondering about the meeting," she began, "so let me explain. First, is there anyone missing?"

"Vanessa is doing a makeup lab," a large black girl announced.

"Where's Ayla?" I heard one of the girls ask aloud.

A girl from upstairs that I didn't know didn't interrupt her harsh glare directed my way when she spoke. "Megs isn't here." A murmur circulated through the group as girls considered those two absences.

"I know they're not here," Mrs. Horton said. "I know you all have homework, so let's get the business out of the way." She pasted on a smile. "Since the term began, we've had a new student join us, Kayda Franks. Since Poe is a mutually supportive group, it's important that we all get to know each other. Kayda, you asked for this meeting, so the floor is yours." You could have heard a pin drop at her announcement of why we were having a meeting, and then some low murmurs of disapproval stared in the back of the room.

As I stood, I heard someone in the back wisecrack, "You're the Buffalo Gal who's trying to break Team Kimba's record for security incidents!" That elicited laughter from a lot of the girls, but the words stung. It wasn't my fault that I'd started with a reputation as a trouble-maker.

"That's enough," Mrs. Horton said firmly to stop the laughter. She alone seemed to recognize how much that comment had hurt me. "Remember, what happens in Poe stays in Poe, and Poesies stick up for their own." More hushed talk circulated around the room at her ominous-sounding warning. While she was speaking, Megs was brought into the room and seated alone at a table near the front, much to her bewilderment and that of the other girls.

My knees were wobbly and my hands trembled, and I felt like my mouth was full of cotton. From the looks around the room, I wasn't certain who'd already made up their minds to dislike me, and who might ridicule me.

"I'm Kayda Franks," I began, my voice quavering, "and ... I asked ... to talk to you all." Murmurs filled the room as I paused to try to steel my nerves. I bit my lip as I tried to find the right words. "I asked Mrs. Horton ... if I could talk to you all, because ... I need to apologize ... for all the things I've ... put you through." My lower lip trembled as I struggled to continue in the silence that had descended over the room. "I only manifested a few weeks ago, and I had a burnout, which is why I changed so quickly. My ... former friends ..." I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, "tried to kill me ... twice," I managed to say, "which is part of why ... I'm such an emotional wreck." I wiped at my cheeks in a futile effort to dry them, and I was aware of the profound silence in the room. "I ...." I bit my lower lip again, shaking my head slowly and trembling, and I suddenly found Mrs. Horton's arm around my shoulder.

"You don't have to do this if you're not ready," Mrs. Horton said softly, so that only I would hear.

"I ... need to explain ... why I'm so messed up, why ... I keep accidentally hurting people, and sometimes, I ... push people away," I stammered. Despite my soft voice, there was no doubt that everyone in the room heard me clearly, because there was no other talking - not even whispers. "The second time I was beaten was after I'd completely changed. Besides trying to kill me, ... they ...." I looked down at the floor, fighting tears as the nightmares swirled through my head. "I was ...." My hands were shaking like leaves in the wind. "They ... raped me," I finally blurted out as drops trickled down my cheeks.

A collective gasp echoed through the room. With a near herculean effort, I forced myself to look up toward Bugs and Jade, and I saw a look of profound horror on their faces as they suddenly understood why I'd had my meltdown. Then I forced myself to look at Megs, who also bore a shocked, and extremely self-conscious, expression.

"I'm ... terrified ... of guys," I admitted softly.

I thought I heard one girl in back say, "Good for you!"

The small joke was just enough to allow me to continue this most difficult confession. "That's why ...." I sighed heavily. "I had hidden or blocked those memories, but they were still there. I got in trouble the first day, because Cagliostro was trying to mentally suggest ... things, and I panicked. It's been downhill since then. When I saw ... Ayla ... in the shower, all those traumatic memories came back and overwhelmed me. I ... couldn't handle it."

I pulled myself free of Mrs. Horton's arm and walked over to where Megs sat. I extended my arm, and when she took my hand, I gently pulled her to her feet. "I'm so sorry," I sobbed. "I didn't mean to hurt you." I stood for a few seconds, not knowing what else to say as tears poured down my cheeks. I suddenly felt exposed, having bared my soul, and the feeling of intense scrutiny upon my innermost being became unbearable. I spun, fled the room, and bolted up the stairs to throw myself, weeping, onto my bed.

It was only a few moments later when my door opened. "Kayda?" Jade and Bugs called my name. They came in without waiting for an invitation and sat down on the edge of my bed.

"I ... didn't know," Bugs said softly. "I'm sorry I was mean to you about everything."

"Me, too," Jade added. The two of them gently sat me up, and then, after a prolonged group hug to comfort me and show me that they weren't angry at me any longer, they guided me back downstairs and into the common room where all of the girls were still sitting, talking softly among themselves at what I'd revealed.

When I came back in the room, I was swarmed by girls offering their understanding and support, wrapping me in comforting hugs. Each of them introduced herself, and most of them told me that they'd be there for me if I needed anything, many offering a shoulder to cry on if I needed one. I got the feeling that a few of them would very much like it if I cried on their shoulders. One black girl named Sharisha even made a serious offer to travel home with me to pound the living crap out of the 'male gender-scum who'd done that to me', which got me to smile a tiny bit through my weeping.

Finally only Megs was left. She offered me a handshake, but I knew that wasn't what either of us needed. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her - carefully. "I'm so sorry," I repeated.

She nodded. "Me, too. Can we be ... friends?" she asked hesitantly.

I nodded. "Yeah," I said through my tears, "friends."

**********

I sat on my bed, with Naomi and Evvie on either side of me, wrapping their arms around me and letting me cry.

"Thanks for being so understanding," I said softly.

"God, I can't even begin to imagine ...." Naomi said, astonished.

I sighed. "The best and worst thing was that I didn't remember anything until ...." I sat silently for a moment. "If I'd have had to deal with this right after, I ... I don't think I could have. I ... might have been ... overwhelmed, or even suicidal."

"And now?" Evvie asked, concern dripping from her words.

"It still hurts," I admitted, "and I feel ... dirty and violated, but ... I think it was good for me to tell everyone." I smiled thinly. "I feel like I've got help and support I really need."

The two girls renewed their enthusiastic hugs at those words to ensure that I knew I had support. After a bit, though, I had to disengage from their comforting embrace. "I think you've got homework, and there's one more thing I have to do."

I pulled on my moccasins and padded down the hall. Now, instead of getting angry or suspicious looks from passing girls, they were showing me concern and support, and even acceptance as a Poesie that needed their unique support group.

I knocked on the door sharply, knowing that if I could do the group thing, I could do this one, too. I hoped. The door opened, and I was facing Ayla. "Yes?" she asked.

I bit my lip. "Um, has anyone from your team ... told you?" I asked hesitantly.

Ayla shook her head. "Toni and Nikki said you might have something to talk to me about, but they wouldn't say any more than that."

I nodded. "Can I come in?"

"Certainly," Ayla offered. The room was furnished unlike any other room at Poe, with the beds stacked for bunks to make room for a refrigerator, a mini-pantry, chairs, and hammocks hanging from the walls. "Sit down if you'd like."

"No thanks," I declined. "This won't take long." I took a deep breath to steel my nerves, which were starting to jangle a bit. "Uh, I'm really sorry about the other day. I didn't mean to hurt you or make you feel guilty. It's .... It wasn't anything you did. It's ... my emotional baggage that got to me."

Ayla nodded slightly. "We all have issues."

"Not like mine. I ... was nearly beaten to death after I manifested," I admitted, and then I quickly continued, cutting off Ayla's response. "The worst part is that, the second time, I'd fully changed, and ...," I looked down, feeling ashamed, "I was ... gang-raped."

"Oh." Ayla almost hid his shock at my revelation. Almost.

I nodded. "I ... didn't remember because of traumatic memory loss until Friday morning, when I saw you in the showers. That's why I was in Doyle for a while - because I had an emotional breakdown."

"And why you're on a suicide watch?" Ayla asked with certainty.

"I'm working with Dr. Bellows and Fubar to come to terms with everything." My eyes narrowed. "How did you know about ...?"

Ayla smiled. "I have information sources."

I decided not to press, because I doubted Ayla would give me any more info. "Toni told me that you think of yourself as a guy, and that I should use masculine pronouns and such when I refer to you." I smiled unconvincingly. "That'll be tough," I said, eying _his_ figure up and down. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I want you to know that ... I'm going to try ... to not have panic attacks in the bathroom."

Ayla extended his hand in an offering of truce, but I decided to be a girl, and I wrapped Ayla in a hug, careful to embrace him from the side so as to avoid pressing against his crotch. "Apology accepted," Ayla said as he sort-of hugged me back.

As we embraced, I heard the door creak open, and a gasp sounded from the doorway. "What the hell?"

Ayla and I both spun to the girl standing gawking at us. "Vanessa, Kayda just came to apologize for ...."

"Apologize? Is that what you call it?" The shapely black girl sounded more than trifle upset.

"You missed the meeting," I interjected quickly, "or you'd know ..."

"Know what? That you're trying to move in on my two-timing boyfriend?" she demanded.

This girl had pushed my buttons a little too hard. "I was apologizing to Ayla because the other day, when I saw him in the showers, I freaked out, okay? I explained downstairs that I'm freaked out by guys because I was raped, okay?" I think I sounded a little defiant, like I was just asking her to try to challenge me over this silly little hug.

The clouds on Vanessa's face didn’t abate any. "That's a hell of a way to show that you're freaked out by a guy."

I took Vanessa's and Ayla's hands in mine, and tugged them down the hall. "I'll _show_ you!" I stormed into my room. Fortunately, Evvie and Naomi were gone, probably to Naomi's room for a little ... studying. I pointed at the picture of Debra and me playing chess. "There! See? That's my _girlfriend_!" I snapped at her. "Read what she wrote to me on that, and then try to tell me that I'm interested in Ayla!"

Vanessa stared at me for a second, and then leaned closer to the picture and read Debra's personalized signature.

I continued while she read. "I'm scared to death of guys. That's what happens sometimes when a girl gets raped. It's hard enough to just ... hug Ayla, let alone doing anything else!" I paused to let her think a moment. "Now do you believe me?"

Vanessa turned back toward me, a sheepish look on her face. "I ... I guess so. I'm sorry. Sometimes, I just get ...." She stopped when she saw Ayla gawking at the poster. "Don't you get enough ogling in the showers?" She took him by the arm and led him out of my room. "You're not supposed to be that interested in anyone but me," I heard her chiding him as they walked down the hall.

I sat down on my bed, leaning on a pillow against the wall. I wasn't trembling any longer. I took a deep breath to center myself, and let my eyes close.

I was sitting beside the warm, flickering fire in the circle of tepees. I glanced up at the star-studded sky, noting the sliver of the moon high in the sky. The Indian summer evening was a bit cool, with a fresh, gentle breeze, but with the fire, it was very comfortable.

Wakan Tanka crawled out of her tepee and sat beside me on a log. "You look well, Wihakayda."

I thought for a moment, and realized that my heart was a little more peaceful. "Yes, Wakan Tanka," I said to her. "I think I'm starting to heal inside."

She brewed up a cup of tea and offered it to me.

After a sip, as the warmth and calm spread within me, I smiled. "It's not easy, but ...."

"It won't be easy," Wakan Tanka admitted. "And you have much to accept about being who you are."

"Being Ptesanwi?"

She shook her head. "Being Kayda. Being a girl. Being a victim who is strong and fights back and who refuses to give up."

I was confused. "I thought you said that I'd accepted being a girl."

"When you were with Debra in private," Wakan Tanka smiled, "you did. But now, you need to accept being a girl in the entire world. It will not be an easy journey, but I will always be here for you, and we will always help you."

I thought a moment, and then I turned and hugged her. "Thank you. I know I'll need your help, and I know you'll always be with me." I was actually looking forward to breakfast with my new friends in the morning. I felt calmer than I had for nearly a month.

**********

Whateley Security, Kane Hall

Lyle Matthews barely controlled his muttered disgust as he hung his gear up in his locker. He was the rookie, the newbie, the new guy who could get all the crap jobs and was the butt of all pranks and gags, and he hated it. The latest was having to do _all_ the paperwork for that stupid girl and her stupid buffalo - again!

An army brat, Lyle had endured hazing and newbie status every time his parents got a change of post, and then, after enlisting himself, the hazing continued with every one of _his_ changes of duty location. The thing about the army, though, was that _everyone_ changed posts about every two years, and there was a steady stream of 'newbies' to hand the hazing-victim baton to. This was worse, because three months after joining Whateley's security forces, he was still stuck as the rookie.

He'd done two tours before someone suggested that he should apply to a very unique private school with interesting and challenging security requirements that would be a challenge for his special forces training. It didn't hurt that he'd be making a lot more money than he did in the Army. Lyle was frustrated; so far, his pay was better than Army pay, but it galled him to see other officers in his pay grade driving newer, more expensive cars and trucks, and living a lot more comfortably. His instincts told him that many of his compatriots were getting some 'payola' from outside forces. Once a straight-laced, stars-in-the-eyes young man, Lyle's view had been jaded by many things he'd seen while deployed to areas where corruption was a way of life, and seeing the apparent blind-eye toward similar things here at Whateley, his willpower to resist becoming tainted himself was slipping. Still, he didn't know how to get in on the gig, and he dared not ask around. One slip, one straight officer, and his career was sunk. He had to wait for someone to approach him, but so far, no-one had.

The worst thing was the duty hours he always seemed to draw. Being single, he didn't have family obligations to 'help' his shift assignment, and being low man on the totem pole, he was often asked to substitute when a more senior officer had a family crisis. In his three months, he'd seen a lot of strange happenings, and by high-school students, no less! But these were no ordinary high-school students. Every one of them was a mutant, and had some kind of powers that could turn a simple squabble into a deadly event.

Lately, his anger had focused on that damned girl with the white buffalo. While he could stare down many of the mutants, there was something about the Buffalo Gal that was disconcerting. She seemed to be controlling some kind of serious power, and that buffalo was scary in its own right. Six feet tall at the shoulder, over a ton, and with those nasty horns and attitude, it was downright intimidating. And the girl? She was angry and unstable, in Lyle's opinion, and he'd had to deal with her twice, and both times she'd been defiant to the point that the security officers feared that she'd make the buffalo attack her.

Lyle also had a personal problem that was in play, but it was one of which he wasn't overtly aware. He'd learned some prejudices from his parents and grandparents, and Native Americans weren't on their list of 'good people', which meant that Lyle had picked up a subconscious dislike of that ethnic group as well. Even as he recognized that the girl was extremely beautiful, clearly in the top fifteen or twenty at Whateley, his prejudice pushed aside any considerations that might have been generous toward her, and instead focused his mind on the things he didn't like.

With some muttered 'byes', he walked out to his older pickup, frowning again as his compatriots got into their newer-model, nicer cars and trucks. He _had_ to figure out a way to get some of the paylola that was rampant in the office.

After a double-shift, Lyle's eyes were closed and he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. A few hours of blissful sleep, and then he'd go back to the same frustrations all over again.

Something touched his dream, something cold and dark. Lyle recoiled from the evil sensation that was trying to intrude in his rest.

"I know what you want," a disembodied voice called to him out of the inky blackness of his dream-space. "I can help you."

"Who are you?" Lyle asked in his dream.

"I dislike the buffalo girl as much as you. I can help you remove that problem, and also help you gain influence, power, and money in your job." It was a siren's song to Lyle.

"How?"

"I can help you," the voice repeated. "Think of how many unpleasant shifts and tasks you've been assigned to. Think of all the money the others are making, while you aren't. I can help you fix those problems."

Lyle stared into the darkness, looking for a hint of what was talking to him. "Why are you helping me? What do _you_ get out of this?" Even his sleep-addled brain knew enough to watch for tricks and traps.

"I get rid of an enemy that has plagued me from time immemorial, the voice said. "I believe it is a fair trade."

"I'm not going to murder someone," Lyle retorted sharply.

"Oh, no," the voice purred. "Not murder. But where you work, there are many, many accidents. One more could be easily arranged."

Lyle wasn't sure. "Show yourself before I deal with you."

Slowly, a form started to emerge from the darkness and mists of his mind. It seemed to be a giant snake at first, and then he saw the glowing orbs of its eyes, the huge mouth with scimitars for fangs and daggers for teeth. The creature grinned wickedly at Lyle.

For the briefest of moments, Lyle fought the fear and insanity that the creature's gaze caused, but he had no defenses against such an ancient and powerful evil. His mind shattered as what sanity he had fled or was shredded by the onslaught of ancient power.

Lyle's mouth opened in the dream world. "Now, errand girl, you cannot hide from me behind magical barriers. Your end draws near." An evil smile crept across the face of the former Lyle Matthews.

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Kayda 2: Trials of a Warrior

Chapter 1 - Maka

by ElrodW

Monday, March 19

Poe Cottage

The sound was like a drill, boring deeply and painfully into my ears with an unrelenting and unwelcome buzzing noise, loud enough to not be able to ignore, even when I tried pulling my pillow over my head.  Even then the buzzing pierced through the protective padding, giving me no respite from the hated noise.  Flinging the pillow away, bleary-eyed, I reached out toward a night-stand beside her bed, swatting away in the general direction of the annoying sound.  My flailing hand connected three times, but with the edge of the nightstand first, eliciting a yelp of pain, and next with a book on the stand, and finally with a glass of water I habitually kept near my bed.  The splash of the cool water on my arm drew forth a muttered oath as the glass clattered to the floor, and, with the unceasing sound still boring into my brain, I pulled myself up and more methodically reached for the alarm, slapping a snooze button and bringing peaceful silence once more to the room.

"What time is it?" my roommate, Evvie, mumbled.  Outside the window, it was still quite dark.

"Five thirty," I said softly, knowing what time I'd set the alarm for.

"Geez," Evvie swore.  "What kind of person wakes up this freakin' early?"  From the sounds, I guessed that she had tugged her own pillow over her head in an effort to get a few more precious minutes of sleep.

Moving as quietly as I could, I slid from under the nice warm covers, and almost crawled back under them.  The room was cool enough to feel unpleasant, and the cold linoleum on the soles of my feet sent a shiver of protest all the way to my brain.  I felt guilty for having awakened Evvie early, but it was necessary for me.  Draped over the footboard of my bed was my robe, which I slipped on after I took off my nightie, the one that was a gift from Cornflower.  It was so much easier falling asleep with that flimsy nightie on, even in a cool room, because I felt comforted, as if she was wrapping me in her caring embrace.  I couldn't help the smile that flitted across my face at the thoughts of my 'special girl'.

Quietly, so I wouldn't disturb Evvie more, I slid my feet into my slippers, grabbed my bag of toiletries, and slipped out of our room.  A few steps brought me to the girls' bathroom, and as the door opened, I could tell from the sound of running water that someone else had the same idea of showering early.  I'd been told that showering early before the hot water was all gone was quite advantageous, but, as I was told, since the Hydroflux hardware had been installed, occasionally one or two of the girls got up especially early for their showers, before the six a.m. Hydroflux cutoff time, to enjoy a long, hot, _soothing_ shower, and thus consuming quite a bit of the hot water supply.  One shower stall was open, so I hung up my robe and turned on the water, waiting a moment or two for it to warm up while I glanced nervously around the bathroom.  It had only been a couple of days since my meltdown, and I was terrified of that happening again.

The water was warm and comforting, and the spray invigorating.  I quickly washed and rinsed, and then grabbed my towels.  It wasn't yet habit, but I was getting more comfortable with the 'girl way' of drying my long hair.  I was at the sink brushing my teeth when I heard the door open.  A quick glance sent a shiver of panic down my spine, and I gasped loud enough that Chou, one of the early risers who was also at the sink brushing her teeth, glanced my way, a concerned look on her face.

I felt hands trembling as Ayla stepped toward the shower, his eyes fixed on me, an uncertain expression on his face.  Trembling, I forced a smile through my quivering lips and gave him a very shaky wave.  "Morning, Ayla," I muttered through my toothbrush and a mouth half-full of toothpaste.

Ayla nodded uneasily at me.  "Good morning, Kayda," he said nervously.  I could tell from his reaction that he'd
really taken my meltdown seriously, like it was his fault, and he felt guilty about it despite my apology and explanation.

Based on what Vox had said in my room the night before, I strongly suspected that Ayla used the bathroom arrangements to get a free show in the mornings at shower time, and I also surmised that the guilt over my panic attack and fear of inadvertently causing another one was weighing heavily on his mind, sufficiently so that he might not enjoy showering for a few days.

I'd also heard, from several girls, that Ayla was not an early riser, so seeing him in the shower early was suspiciously odd.  "You're up early."

Ayla's face momentarily flashed discomfort, but he was good at masking it.  "Early team simulation," he explained.

I could tell there was more behind his words.  "You're not getting up early to try to avoid ... another ...?"  It was uncomfortable to try to talk about, especially since I was fighting panic the whole time.

The expression which flitted across Ayla's face indicated that maybe there was a bit of truth to my speculation, and that Ayla was trying to accommodate me to avoid a repeat of Friday morning.  "If it's bothersome, we can work out a shower schedule," he suggested.

"I don't want you to have to change your routine just for me," I countered.  Inside, I was trembling and fighting panic, knowing what Ayla was, and knowing my history.  I turned back to the task at hand.

I forced myself to take my time, despite a very strong urge to get back to my room to finish my tasks in relative safety.  It seemed that brushing my teeth and drying my hair took forever.  Finally, that task was done, and as I turned, I saw Nikki stretched out luxuriously on a bench shaving her legs.  Absently, I reached down inside my robe and felt the stubble on my own legs.  Damn!  I was going to have to shave again, and soon. 

It occurred to me that maybe Wakan Tanka could help me with a magic spell that would obviate the need for periodic shaving, or at least take the place of it.  It would be something to investigate.

No, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka's voice said in my head immediately, unbidden.  "There is such a spell, but it is unfocused, and would cause you to lose _all_ your hair, including that on your head."

"Oh.  Not good," I sighed, disappointed.  "Really not good."

"There is another reason," Wakan Tanka added.  "Such a spell, if you were able to focus it, would be an unnecessary drain on your magic energy.  You must learn to save your energy for when it is truly needed, not squander it on fits of convenience or vanity."

"Remember tasnaheca," Tatanka reminded me sharply.  I wasn't startled because I'd sensed his approach.  I was getting better - slowly.

"Yes, yes," I answered impatiently.  "Tasnaheca conserves because he has to in order to survive the winter.  He doesn't waste his time or his resources."

"Then practice what he teaches," Tatanka chided me.

I sighed, more audibly than I should have, at the frustrating internal conversation, which had distracted my concentration on what I was doing.  As a result, Ceecee ran into me as she zipped into the bathroom, partially dodging so that I got only a glancing blow, not enough to knock me over, but sufficient to dislodge my toiletries from my and.

"Sorry, Kayda," Ceecee babbled, before turning and speeding to an open shower.

As I squatted down to pick up my toiletries, I realized that my robe hung open, and glancing up and around, I saw that some of the girls were staring at me with what I recognized in guys as an appreciative gaze.  It was ironic that Vox was staring a bit, because she'd chewed out Ayla only the night before for gawking at a poster of me.  Well, me and Debra, but some tiny recess of my mind was practically screaming that it was _me_ mostly.  I glanced around, and saw Ayla uncomfortably doing everything to _not_ look at me.

Vamp stepped carefully around me and looked around the bathroom with a smirk.    "I take it from the lack of drama that Ayla managed to behave today," she said sarcastically.  If looks could have killed, Vox's glare would have vaporized Vamp on the spot.

Feeling my face flush at the unwelcome attention and the snarky commentary, I pulled my robe closed and scampered out of the bathroom, across the hall, and into my room.  My hands were trembling as I closed the door, leaning back against it as my belongings slipped from my hands and clattered to the floor.

Evvie had been tugging her nightie over her head, and she spun to look at me, concerned.  "Are you okay, Kayda?"

Slowly, after a few shaky breaths, I nodded.  "Yeah.  I ... I think so."

"Ayla or Vamp?" Evvie asked knowingly.

I took another deep breath, feeling my chest shudder as I did so.  "Ayla.  I ... I tried."  I forced a smile to my quivering lips.  "I even managed to say hi."

"Scared?"

I nodded.  "Terrified."

"But you made it through without a panic attack, right?" Evvie stated more than she asked, knowing the answer and turning her simple question into words of encouragement.

I found myself smiling - thinly.  "Yeah," I acknowledged.  Damn, but I was lucky to have a friendly, caring girl like Evvie as a roommate.  It was ironic; in my old school, she would have been a girl that I would have chased, because she was cute and carried herself with an air that announced that she was fun to be around, even if she didn't have the same outrageous curves as the cheerleaders.  Back then, she wouldn't have been interested in me in the slightest.  Now that I was a girl, though, she would be interested in me, something that I would have never considered before.  But with Debra so firmly in my heart, I had no romantic interested in her, even though I couldn't ignore how good a friend Evvie was becoming.

"Wait for me to shower, and we'll go get breakfast?"

"Okay," I answered.  I could take the time to read the student handbook, something that might be useful if I ever ran into security again.  I snorted derisively; I was certain that security and I were going to know each other quite well based on how we'd started - not that I was eager to further our uncomfortable relationship.

I pulled on a uniform and fixed my hair in a French braid, as Wish List and Debra had taught me.  I stared in the mirror for a few moments, and then I opened up my makeup case.  A very light touch of blush, some eye liner and light eye shadow, and a dab of lipstick, and I was more satisfied with my appearance.  It was to be my first day of classes, after registration, and I wanted to look acceptable.  With so many beautiful girls, I figured that I'd stand out if I looked too plain - in a bad way.  It couldn't have been because I wanted to look pretty, could it?  I shook my head.  Nah.  Couldn't be _that_!"

I sat back down at my desk and continued reading through the handbook.  I could have skipped ahead, but I needed to read the entire document, and skipping around would have made it difficult to keep straight which parts I'd read and which I hadn't.  Despite the volume of lore I'd been told by the Sioux Falls League, I _needed_ to know anything and everything I could learn about Whateley.

I flipped a page, and found myself in the section on campus organizations, which caused me to involuntarily roll my eyes in disgust.  I'd never gotten into the clubs at my old high school, even if I was on the sports teams, and I saw no need to be a 'joiner' here.  The list was pretty extensive, and started with the formally-recognized groups, and continued on inserted material for less formal clubs.  One could understand the Alphas, who probably considered themselves to be the best of the best and the leaders of the campus.  It looked like being some type of leader of a known campus group or something was a requirement to help elect the top alpha.  Lord knew what kind of sucking-up and snobbery was required to actually be a member.  So what?  I never had time for the elite snobbery before, and I doubted I'd have time at Whateley.

There was the Euro-Promotional League, which I gathered, from some talk in Crystal Hall and around the cottage, was also known disparagingly as the Beret Mafia.  Though the handbook didn't say as much, what little I'd heard let me know that they were Euro-snobs who thought Americans were beneath them.  Great - another group with an excuse to have an attitude.

The Dragons and Tigers were both martial arts clubs.  So freakin' what?  I wasn't interested in any of that kung-fu Bruce Lee stuff.  Just based on the explicit attitude conveyed by the name, The Superior Court of Kings and Queens of the Golden Circle and Platinum Diadem and Silver Crown was some group of rich snobs - great, a third club of snooty attitudes, as if more were needed.  Anyone in a club with a name like that had to be old-money snobby, too - the worst of the worst.

There was Venus, Inc., which I already knew about from Debra, and who both Mom and Debra encouraged me to join.  Despite promising Debra, I had no desire to join the beauty snobs and resident fashionistas.  I still felt nervous about even being a girl, let alone the thought of trying to be one of the 'beautiful' models that all the guys would inevitably try to score with.

Contrary to what Wakan Tanka thought, I was pretty sure that I still had a ton of adjustments to my female status.  Dr. Bellows had been right about one thing - my first few weeks as a girl had been so hectic and frightening that I hadn't had time to think about what becoming a girl meant, let alone accept it.  I strongly suspected that, as my days became routine, I was going to have a lot of aspects of a girl's life that I wasn't taking time to think about at that moment.  It was a new experience to even take time to think about how much I needed to adjust to.

I turned my attention from myself back to the handbook, and the various groups.  The Whateley Junior ROTC?  Yeah, like _I_ wanted to be in a jack-booted organization so I could work toward a military career.  The one formal group that caught my eye was the Gearheads, an auto mechanics club.  With what I'd done with Grandpa's '57, I thought I'd fit in there, but then I remembered that the school was full of kids whose official uniform was augmented with lab coats in a variety of colors - the horde of devisors and gadgeteers, and those kids would probably be telling me endlessly what I should do to _my_ car, or how to improve _my_ engine, and so and so on.  I'd been a good mechanic; hell, I'd been better than some who worked in Dad's dealership, but the thought of suddenly feeling way below average turned my stomach.  Maybe when I graduated, I could find a place and a job that would provide me workspace and money to restore and hop-up the car in my spare time.  Until then, the thought of being considered well below average in a shop was really discouraging.  One of the disadvantages of being from a small town was becoming evident.  A big fish in a little sea was very often a small fish in an ocean.  I didn't think that looking at a list of clubs would be depressing, but it was.  I had to pause and focus on what Louis and Dr. Bellows had told me about wanting to fit in, and not being overcome by fear.  After a few deep breaths to steady myself, I continued reading.

The handbook referred me to an inserted packet of fliers that gave more information on the campus organizations, including many that weren't formally recognized.  Curious, I opened the packet and began to look through the 'ad copy' for the clubs.  The description of the Lit Chix sounded somewhat interesting, but I suspected that I'd have to develop an unnatural attraction to authors such as Emily Dickinson, Jane Austen, and JK Rowling.  No thanks.  Give me Heinlein and Clarke and Asimov any day.

Amazingly to me, some of them seemed to be polar opposites.  The Bad Seeds, a social club for the children of supervillains, and the Future Superheroes of America; the Masterminds and the Intelligence Cadet Corps, or Spy Kids as Farm Boy had laughingly called them.  There was a group called the Parkour Hooligans.  Based on that material and what I knew of parkour, that group might be interesting; I'd have to chat with Wakan Tanka to see if a group like that would be useful for the Native American outdoor traditions and skills she wanted me to learn.  There were the Goobers, whose description sounded like some special evil spirit protection force, but sounded more to me like Ghostbuster or Buffy the Vampire Slayer wannabes.

I'd just finished looking over the groups when Evvie came back into the room.  She dropped her robe and started dressing, while I tried to not stare at her shapely nude body.  While other exemplars had the thin, overly-curvaceous supermodel look down to a T, Evvie looked generally much more fit and wholesome, kind of a renaissance figure like Mom and Aunt Ida, women who knew what hard physical work was and weren't ashamed of doing it or of the more full-figured result that came with it.  Years of having been a guy hadn't worn off overnight, and I still had a great appreciation for the female form, and I'd seen plenty of those already in the bathroom.  Evvie definitely had the type of body that I could appreciate, or at least, I used to be able to appreciate.

Evvie noticed me staring.  "Old habits?" she asked with a wry grin.

I winced.  "Yeah.  But ... it's weird.  It's different."

She paused, swaying her upper torso so her boobs danced back and forth tantalizingly.  I found myself hypnotized by her ample, firm breasts that had not the slightest hint of sag.  "You mean this doesn't turn you on?" Evvie giggled.

I blushed furiously.  "Well, kind of, and kind of not.  The part of my brain that's still got guy thoughts thinks you're ..."   I stopped, embarrassed even more.

"What?" Evvie demanded, putting her hands on her hips.  "Say it."

"You're ... hot," I said with a wince.  "You're really attractive.  If I was a guy, I'd want to get in your pants," I blurted out suddenly, then clasped my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide with surprise at what I'd actually said.

Evvie giggled at my sudden revelation even as her cheeks flushed from a bit of embarrassment.  Given the types of girls around Whateley, I doubted that she was called 'hot' very often, which was grossly unfair.  "And the increasingly large fraction of your mind that's female?"

With a groan at her choice of wording, I replied, softly, and with my cheeks still burning.  "I ... I kind of compare your body ...."

"To?"

I wasn't getting out of this.  "To Debra," I answered, and then softly added, "and to myself."

Evvie goggled at me, and then chuckled.  "I was just joking, but your female mind really _is_ taking over!"  She finished pulling on and fastening her bra, and then buttoned her uniform blouse before stepping into her skirt and fastening it around her waist.  Finally, she slipped her blazer on.  "Let's go eat.  I'm starving."

"But ... what about Naomi?" I asked as we descended to the first floor, puzzled that she was ready to rush off to breakfast without her girlfriend.

**********

Schuster Hall

Rosalyn Dekkard drew the short straw for morning escort, since she didn't have a first-period class.  Despite that, she had to go to her 'homeroom' to check in - some kind of attendance roster they took, and so I went to Rosalyn's homeroom.  I felt quite out of place, because most of those in her homeroom were juniors, and I knew almost no one.  Plus, it seemed that everyone was staring at me, especially the guys.  After attendance was taken, I practically towed her out of the room at warp speed to escape the visual scrutiny, and we walked to Schuster to meet with my course counselor.

Rosalyn was an extraordinarily attractive girl, with wavy ravens-black hair cascading down her back to her waist.  I could feel her emerald eyes occasionally eyeing me, and given her reputation as an adventurous lesbian, the sense that I was being evaluated as a potential mattress-mambo partner was a little disconcerting.  Given that there were few students about campus as most were either still asleep or in class, she obviously didn't feel the need to disguise how she was looking at me.

"I understand you hooked up with Cornflower," Rosalyn finally said, breaking what had been an awkward silence.  "Did she tell you that we were ... acquainted ... when she was here?"  From the way she spoke, I gathered that she was heavily implying that the acquaintance was far more than just knowing each other's name.

"Oh?"  I felt a stab of jealousy, and then found myself fighting _that_ thought.  Was I that much into Debra that I was jealous?

Rosalyn's laugh was soft and melodic.  "I take it from your expression, that the rumors f you two being an item are true?  That you _are_ part of the sisterhood?"

Scarlet would have seemed a pastel shade in comparison to the color burning my cheeks.  "Subtly isn't your strong suit, is it?" I asked, trying to deflect the conversation.

Rosalyn grinned.  "Sometimes, no.  So?"

"Uh, we're ... friends," I muttered, looking down to avoid eye contact.

Rosalyn chuckled.  "Uh, huh.  _Friends_."  We walked a few more steps in silence.

"There's a little problem with our ages," I added defensively, still feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I wondered why I felt the need to defend my relationship with Debra.  We walked a bit more.

"You know, there are a lot of girls here who would love to help you get some experience for when you _are_ old enough ...."  She let the not-so-subtle invitation hang unfinished.

"Do you _always_ talk like this?" I stammered, amazed at the entire conversation.

"No.  Sometimes I'm much more explicit and direct!"  She saw my open-mouthed look of disbelief.  "You should hear the discussions at our hot-tub parties."

"Uh, no thanks!" I said hastily.  The disjointed male and female thought patterns resumed clashing in my head with untold fury.  The male part was screaming at me to ask more about the hot-tub parties, so I could go, because seeing some girl-on-girl action was too intriguing a concept to miss.  It sounded stereotypical, but the thought of watching girls get it on was a real turn-on, or at least it had been, and from what other guys said in the locker room, it was a pretty common fantasy theme.  The thought of losing that male fantasy struck me hard, causing me to almost miss a step.  I would never be a spectator, watching lustfully, but now I was a girl that guys would want to see doing it.  A brief pang of sadness tore through my mind.  Okay, it was more than brief, and it was rather brutal.  I wasn't a guy anymore.

The female part was yelling at me, eventually drowning out the self-pitying 'I lost my manhood' morose thinking, and telling me to shut up and change the subject, lest I find myself invited to one of the parties and end up _in_ some of that girl-on-girl action.  As the war raged, I stumbled along beside Rosalyn, still blushing, and trying my best - unsuccessfully - to hide the fact that I was totally flustered.

"Why not?   Hot tub parties are always a good time.  I think you'd enjoy the experience."  I think she could sense my indecision and mixed feelings.

I flinched.  "Uh, I don't think so."

Rosalyn laughed.  "But you're tempted, aren't you?  I can tell from your reaction."  She smiled at me as my expression confirmed that she _had_ read my emotions correctly.  "We have a party scheduled right after Spring Break.  I'll get you the information, and you can decide for yourself."

"Uh," I stammered, completely tongue-tied, "maybe."  It was all my addled brain could think to say.

"Would it help if I got ahold of Cornflower to get permission for you to go?" Rosalyn chuckled, watching as my red cheeks turned ruby in coloration.  Much more of this conversation from her and my cheeks would be visible in the far infra-red part of the spectrum.  As it was, I feared that Rudolph's nose had nothing on the bright red glow of my cheeks.

Fortunately, before things could get any more humiliating - if such were even possible, we arrived my counselor's office.  Rosalyn winked at me, not so subtly licking her lips, and then told me to call Mrs. Horton when I was finished to have someone to escort me.  From the grin on Rosalyn's face, she had really been enjoying causing me a little embarrassment and discomfort.

Mrs. Hawkins was an older woman, probably in her early sixties, and she looked at me with an expression of unhappiness.  "You're late," were the first words from her mouth.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, surprised at her tone of voice.  "I ... had to wait for my escort to check in at her homeroom."

Mrs. Hawkins' eyes narrowed.  "That doesn't excuse tardiness."  She looked at her computer monitor.  "I've laid out a basic first-year schedule for you.  You'll start first period in Algebra 1 - assuming," she looked over the top of her reading glasses at me with a raised eyebrow, "you think you can catch up.  Math is usually one of the more difficult ...."

"I've been doing college-level independent study math classes for the last three years.  I don't need algebra."

Mrs. Hawkins didn't really listen to me.  "Nonsense!  Algebra 1 is a required class, and every freshman is required to take it, or remedial pre-algebra."  She scowled as I took a breath to reply, silencing me at least for the moment.  Second period, you'll have Basic Martial Arts, followed by Introduction to Magic Arts."

"I don't need, or want, martial arts," I protested, speaking quickly so I could get a word in.

"That's for us to decide," Mrs. Hawkins replied without looking at me.  "Based on your history, the administration has put you in this class.  Now, after lunch, you have English 1 ...,"

"I _had_ English 1," I protested sternly.  "I'm a sophomore, not a freshman!"

Mrs. Hawkins ignored me.  "... Power Theory, and Power Theory Lab."

"I _don't_ need English 1," I repeated.  "I had that last year."  I could have as well spoken to a wall.  "And I've taken grad-school level math classes, so I _don't_ need Algebra I!"

"Since your record indicates that you're a gadgeteer, I've signed you up for an independent study late class in electronics, and since you need a language, I have you an evening class in French."

"I already speak a non-English language," I said with a scowl.  "I am fluent in Lakota.  My spirits made sure I can speak Lakota well, since it's part of my heritage.  I am a second-year student, I don't need algebra, and I don't need English 1. I don't need a language class.  I need the avatar class!"

If I'd have been an eight-foot-tall, winged, fanged, threatening red demon, I don't think that Mrs. Hawkins would have changed her expression one iota.

"You'll also need costuming class, and there is a class on Saturday mornings, so I enrolled you in that."

"Saturday?" I exclaimed with dismay.  "Eight classes during the week, and you're giving me weekend classes, too?"

"Many students take weekend classes, especially when they have deficiencies that need to be made up.  And since you missed a lot of classes your first term, you have a lot of make-up to do in a little time."

It took a few seconds for me to pick my jaw off my lap.  "Deficiencies?  I'm a sophomore!  I had English 1 last year!  I learned algebra when I was in fourth grade!  I've already studied calculus and differential equations, to say nothing of higher-order college level math!"

Mrs. Hawkins was unflappable in her arrogance and condescension toward me.  "Your transcripts are incomplete, and they certainly note nothing about advanced math classes, so we have to make sure you take the requisite freshman classes in algebra and English."

"Have you even _seen_ my transcripts?" I asked, feeling like I was debating a tree or a wall.  "I'm a sophomore!" I insisted, fighting to contain my rising frustration.

"According to the records," Mrs. Hawkins continued to ignore me, "you're assigned to freshman-level classes.  It's standard procedure here at Whateley, and the administration approved this plan."

"Mr. Lodgeman told me that I need to take an Avatar class because of my spirit," I added, knowing it was useless to try to argue with this stubborn bureaucrat.  Still, I had to try to talk some sense into her, as she _did_ control my class schedule.  And I had to try to be polite, which was difficult under the circumstances.

Mrs. Hawkins frowned.  "Miss Franks," she lectured me sternly, "_I_ am the advisor here, and I'm following general guidelines and personalized requirements given by the administration.  You are classified as a freshman because you just manifested and have had no mutant-specific classes.  Your task is to take the assigned classes and not argue with me.

I clenched my jaw and counted to five, all the while picturing Tatanka knocking this obstinate bureaucrat through a wall.  "I'm not trying to be difficult," I replied in clipped tones as I struggled to contain my growing distaste for the woman, "but I've already had two of the assigned classes and I don't want to repeat them for no reason, when there are classes which I've been told _will_ be very useful and _necessary_ for me.  Repeating classes that are already on my transcripts is a waste of my time and a waste of the school's resources.  And I have no interest in martial arts classes."

"The other thing we'll need to schedule," Mrs. Hawkins continued, ignoring everything I'd said, "is your powers testing."

I sighed heavily at the incredible concentration of incompetence Mrs. Hawkins represented.  "I _had_ powers testing.  By the Sioux Falls League."

"That's not an excuse.  Whateley has the finest powers testing resources in the world, and frequently, other groups make significant errors doing the testing.  You'll need the test results for your MID."

I started to reply, but decided it was useless to argue with someone so pig-headed.  Instead, I pulled my MID out of my purse and unceremoniously dropped it in front of her.  "I _have_ an MID!" I stated bluntly.

Mrs. Hawkins used a pencil to shove the MID back across her desk toward me like it was something particularly odious and disgusting.  "I'll notify you of your schedule for powers testing.  And then we can get that ... thing ... corrected with your _real_ powers."

"But ...."

"I have another appointment.  Good day, Miss Franks.  Please see yourself out."

Frustrated didn't come close to describing how I felt; there was a good dose of anger mixed in, too.  And Mom and Dad were paying for me to be treated like this!  "Per security requirements, can you please call Mrs. Horton so that she can send an escort to meet me?"

Mrs. Hawkins gazed over her reading glasses again.  "Oh.  You're _that_ one."  The audible disdain in her voice made her sound like she was referring to a hardened criminal or a particularly socially offensive bum.  She picked up her phone and placed the call, while I felt completely humiliated by her attitude.  When she finished the call, her royal pomposity deigned to look upon me again.  "You may wait in the hall."

So far, of the women I'd met at Whateley, the school was 2 for 7 or 2 of 8 in terms of even halfway reasonable social behavior.  My initial bad impression of the place and of the staff was, it seemed, optimistic.  Given how the Sioux
Falls League members had talked, there had to be _something_ good about Whateley, but so far, those positive qualities had proven almost completely elusive.

**********

It took a bit of doing to get an escort lined up to take me shopping to the bookstore.  Megs declined, nervously, to accompany me, and I understood completely why she did so.  Most of the other girls had full class schedules, but Heather, aka Selkie, was free for an hour.  Heather was one of the Sidhe, and her exotic elfin appearance made me feel rather plain - which I needed at that moment.  I didn't want to attract any attention from any boys; in my few days at Whateley, I'd already gotten more than enough such attention.

Since I'd done serious clothes and supply shopping the day before, all I had to do was get books and supplies.  I figured it would be a relatively short trip.  Unfortunately for my plans, short trip and Whateley campus bookstore were two phrases that apparently didn't go together well, at least not on the particular day I was trying to hurry.  It seemed like everyone not in class was in the bookstore.

As I was wandering aimlessly through the book section, looking to find a way to decode the layout, and map the resulting maze against my classes, a guy in a clerk's vest came up to us.  "May I help you?" he asked politely.  He was a little shorter than me, rather skinny, and with a disheveled mop of dirty blonde hair surrounding a totally unremarkable face where his thick glasses were the most interesting feature, he looked like an almost comically stereotypical young geek.

I shouldn't have been startled, but I wasn't listening to the spirits, being distracted instead by a minor uproar a few aisles over.  "Uh, yeah," I replied as soon as I'd recovered my composure.  "I just got registered today, so I need to get my books."

The boy peered through his glasses at me.  "Are you that new student, the Buffalo Gal that everyone's talking about," he said, smiling and trying to be pleasant about the whole thing.

I groaned inwardly.  The nickname from security was spreading pretty rapidly; it seemed that I'd be fated to spend years as the 'Buffalo Gal'.  "My name is _Kayda_," I replied firmly, trying not to be snarky about it, but I wasn't certain that I kept all the ice out of my voice, "not 'Buffalo Gal'."  I wanted to make the point that I really disliked that nickname, and wasn't going to put up with it.

"Oh," he apologized quickly.  "Sorry.  The way people are talking, I thought it was your code name.  I'm Delwin," he said with a nervous smile.  Based on his physique and bookish appearance, I guessed that he was a devisor or gadgeteer, and thus, as a full-fledged nerd, he probably was a little reclusive socially.  Still, I had to give him points for apologizing, and for trying to talk to me.  "Um, if you have your schedule, I can help you find your books," he offered.

I sighed, unconsciously looking him in the eye judgmentally as I debated accepting his help.  After a moment, I gave him the printout I was holding, and then added, "I don't need algebra or English books.  I had English last year before I manifested, and I'm _way_ past algebra."

The boy's eyes lit up.  "Oh?  Are you in Calc I?" he asked eagerly.

I shook my head.  "A couple of years ago.  I'm trying to finish Abstract Algebra, and then I'm going to do independent study in Finite Math."  I sighed at that.  "At least, I _was_ going to do that.  Now, I'm fighting the bureaucracy to realize that I finished algebra in grade-school, and to recognize my independent study college classes."  Great.  Nerd-boy's interest in me probably soared upon learning that I was in advanced math.  Just what I needed - a nerd fan-boy.  I should have kept my mouth shut.

If anything, the boy was even more intrigued.  "College level?  How'd you swing that?"

Heather laughed, inserting herself, possibly as a means to protect me from an interested guy, and possibly because she felt left-out of the conversation.  "She hasn't - yet.  Her advisor apparently didn't read her transcripts correctly."

"Yeah, so I'm stuck in worthless classes, and Mr. Lodgeman thinks I should be in Avatars I instead."  The more I talked about it, the more frustrated I got as I followed the clerk through the labyrinth of aisles, where he'd occasionally stop, retrieve a book from a shelf, and hand it to me.

After we picked up my books, or at least the ones for the classes that weren't repeats, Heather and I went to Kane Hall.  I paused at the door to catch my breath and still my nerves, because so far, every single time I'd gone to Kane, it had been unpleasant.  Heather was surprised by my hesitation, but she let the door close and put her arm around my shoulder.

"It's nothing bad this time, Kayda," she said, guessing the reason for my reluctance.

I felt a shiver ripple up and down my back.  "I know," I squeaked in a tiny voice.  Steeling myself, I let Heather lead me into the den of oppression and hopelessness, otherwise known as security headquarters.  I half expected to see a sign over the entrance reading, 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.'  At least, that's what _I_ thought it should say.  Then again, I was already rather jaded by my experiences.

As we stepped toward the door, the duty officer looked up from his computer, and he groaned audibly.  "Aw, shit," he muttered loud enough for me, and several others, to hear.  "Bad news time - it's the Buffalo Babe!"  Even if I hadn't known who he was from one of my previous security encounters, his nameplate tagged his as Officer Andrews.  He leaned his face into his palm for a moment, sighed heavily, and then looked up at me.  "What can ....?"

"Andrews!" a sharp voice called out from a side office, startling everyone in the room.  The man stomping out into the main area was visibly muscled and lean, despite his slightly graying close-cropped haircut.  His eyes bored into Officer Andrews, burning with an intense fury that matched the scowl on his rough, angular face.  "You just drew extra duty flying cover for Stan and Morrie in the tunnels this weekend!" he snapped with a voice that would have befitted a Marine Corps drill instructor.  "We do _not_ address any of the students with anything even remotely resembling a disparaging nickname like that, do we?"  He was standing above Andrews, glaring viciously at the officer.  "_Do we_?"

"Uh, no," Andrews stammered.  He saw the officer inhale in preparation for another dressing down, and Andrews quickly corrected himself.  "No, sir!" he barked loudly.

"I'll handle this.  You go clean and do a full tactical check of your gear.  All of it!  I'll be by to do an inspection in twenty minutes.  Clear?"

Andrews nodded.  "Yes, sir!"  He scampered off like a frightened rabbit.

When the newcomer turned to me, I watched his features change from DI-angry to calm and friendly.  "How can I help you this morning?" he asked.  I got a glimpse of his name tag; it read, 'Lt. S. Conners.'

I gulped; Lieutenant Conners spoke with a distinct British accent, and he was intimidatingly large.  "I, er, that is, I need to get, um, my ID card," I managed to stammer.

The lieutenant nodded with a friendly smile.  "Of course.  Emily?" he asked, turning.

Naturally, I recognized Emily Strong; she'd conducted my interview for the first day's incident.  I was grateful the lieutenant turned to her and not to Officer Harris.  Harris had been the 'bad cop', and I had the impression that he wasn't play-acting in that role.

"This young lady ...," Lieutenant Conners started to say.

Emily looked up, and her face brightened.  "Good morning, Kayda," she said cheerily.  "What brings you around today?"

The office seemed less ominous and oppressive with her smiling and being cheerful to me.  "Hi, Ms. Strong," I answered.  "I just need to get an ID card today."

Emily winced.  "Yeah, the Chief said you'd be around for one today.  Sorry about the mess last Thursday."  She saw my flabbergasted expression.  "If it hadn't been for Hartford, I would have gotten your ID while you were here.  I understand you've had a little difficulty without it.  Sorry."  She seemed truly remorseful, which stunned me.  My opinion of the security team was rising - at least my view of _some_ of the security team.  Emily sprang lightly and gracefully from her chair and led me to a corner desk.

"What's with Lieutenant Conners?" I asked softly as she typed information in a computer terminal.  "He seemed pretty pissed at Officer Andrews.  Almost as angry as I was for ...."

Emily nodded and smiled sympathetically.  "Some of the ... idiots ... around here forget that they're dealing with teenagers, and that nicknames can be hurtful or even vicious.  Lieutenant Conners really dislikes that kind of thing."

"He's British, I take it?"

Emily nodded.  "Stand over by the wall, in front of the white screen, and I'll get your picture."  Her focus was on the picture for a couple of moments.  "Conners is retired SAS, the elite of the elite in the British military.  Or so he tells us, quite repeatedly in fact," she added with a giggle.

"Is Andrews really in trouble?" I asked softly.

Emily nodded, her expression turning grim for a moment.  "Doing cover detail for Stan and Morrie in the deep sewers is hazardous, and from what some say, scary as hell.  Yeah, he's in serious trouble."  She smiled again.  "On the bright side, I'm sure he'll think twice or three times about ever calling you ... that name ... again."  Emily pressed a button with a flourish, and a minute later, a card printed out of a special, boxy printer.  "Almost done.  Let me get it coded with your information."  She ran the card through a reader, pressed a button on her computer, and re-ran the card.  One more swipe and a look at the data, and she smiled and handed me the card.  "Here you go.  You're official now."

I couldn't help smiling.  After the horrible experience with Ms. Hawkins for class registration, Emily was a saint.  "Thanks."

"No problem," Emily replied.  She walked me back to where Heather waited.  "Feel free to stop by to say 'hi' any time," Emily offered.  "Just not on official business, okay?"

I grimaced at the reference to my frequency of visits.  "Deal," I answered.  Heather put down the magazine she'd been reading and the two of us left Kane, with me not in trouble for once.

Back in Poe, I ditched my books by simply tossing the large, heavy bag on my desk.  As I sat down on my bed, Heather eased herself into Evvie's chair, glancing nervously at the clock as she did so.

"Oh, yeah," I said, feeling self-conscious.  "You've probably got classes.

"Yeah," Heather replied.  "But if you need ...."

"I might as well get this over with and get started in my own classes," I replied, resignation in my voice.  "That _is_ what school is about, isn't it?"

Heather laughed.  "You're so optimistic, you're so can-do, you've got the attitude, we're so proud of you!" she replied in a sing-songy, ditzy-sounding chant with an equally silly facial expression.  "What's your third period class?" she asked.

When I saw her antics, I snickered, and then burst out laughing.  At the same time, there was a little pain in my heart, because Julie would have done the same silliness, but maybe with a few goofy, exaggerated cheerleading moves, to put a smile on my face.  I couldn't help wondering how she was doing.  Perhaps I should call her in the evening - assuming her Humanity First! asshole dad would let her talk to me.

I didn't need to look at my schedule thanks to my much-improved memory.  "Introduction to Magic Arts."

"Oh, finger-waggling!" she said with a smirk.  Then she looked around conspiratorially.  "Just don't you _dare_ tell Nikki that I said that!"

I raised my hand, two fingers upstretched.  "Scouts' honor!" I said solemnly, and then giggled.  "Like the scouts would let me join."

"Not now, anyway," Heather said with a snerk.  "Unless it's the Brownies or Girl Scouts!"

Smiling, I grabbed a few of my new books and notebooks, stuffed them into a backpack, and slung it over my shoulder.  "I'd guess, from that finger-waggling comment, you're probably not going to the Kirby building?"

Heather grinned and shook her head.  "Nope.  I try to stay away from," she feigned a shudder, but her acting was unconvincing, "_that_ place!"  The thought forming in her mind was reflected on her features.  "I know - let's get over to Schuster.  Ayla should be getting out of a class there in a couple of minutes - I think he's in Spanish, and if we catch him, then he can escort you to Kirby, since I'm pretty sure he's in the same Magic Arts class."

Heather and I walked quickly toward the central part of campus, arriving just before a vast horde of students swarmed out of the buildings like angry bees from a disturbed hive.  I had to duck and dodge a few of the larger or faster students who didn't seem to care if they ran over anyone.  My heart nearly stopped, my eyes popped wide open, and I froze in place, gawking uncomfortably at what apparently was a student walking down the sidewalk.  No one but me seemed to notice or think anything was unusual, but I hadn't yet seen a large velociraptor with a backpack on his shoulder strolling casually about as if he belonged at Whateley.

Heather noticed my surprise, and she chuckled.  "That's Razorback.  He's okay, but be careful.  UV, and he's a rager."

I gulped; for years, I'd heard the stories about the rager rampage in eastern South Dakota.  One raging mutant had taken down two platoons of the South Dakota Army National Guard, leaving almost every one of them dead or seriously injured.  Seeing a rager face to ..., well, muzzle, gave me a bad case of the shakes.

"He's one of the regulars in Outcast Corner in the caf.  They're easy to recognize, especially Jericho and his revolting clothing."

"The blind guy whose sense of style should be banned by the Geneva Convention?"

"You've seen him, then," Heather chuckled.  "Sometimes, his clothes are _only_ just nauseating."

"Let's just say that in the couple of times I've seen him, I wasn't impressed by what he was wearing," I said with a smile.  Hopefully, even in my worst-dressed days as a boy, I had never shown such extremely unsightly and offensive fashion sense.

"Yeah.  Some people think he dresses like that on purpose, while others attribute it to his being blind.  I think ...."  She wasn't looking at me, but instead at the small herd of students teeming about the building.  She halted mid-sentence, and started waving her arms above her head.  "Ayla!" Heather called out several times.

Ayla turned at the sound of his name being called, and after scanning the crowd, zeroed in on Heather.  I was a little surprised, and disturbed, by _how_ Ayla had looked around.  It seemed like a professional threat assessment, and his body seemed to tense, ready to react.  It wasn't anything blatant, but a lot of little signs that I recognized from the various animal spirits Tatanka was showing me.  Even after Ayla's attention focused on us, he was constantly checking around himself as he wove his way through the crowd.

"Hey, Heather," Ayla said casually, but his words conveyed an unspoken question of, 'do you want or need something?'

"Are you going to Kirby for Introductory finger-waggling?" Heather asked with a grin.

Ayla wrinkled his nose, looking like nothing so much as a cute co-ed trying to look miffed.  "That would be Introduction to Magic Arts, and yes, I'm on my way there, and yes, I'll tell Fey of your disparaging remarks about her art form."

Heather chuckled.  "Good.  Can you take over escort duty?  I've got to get to PE, but ...."  She didn't need to say more; she was stuck escorting me until relieved, and she didn't want to miss or be late for classes.

Ayla nodded.  "Sure."  Without waiting, he started walking at a quick pace toward Kirby Hall, not really bothering to check whether I was following.  He assumed I was, which was a good assumption on his part.

"You've got quite a bit of catching up to do," Ayla said as we walked.  "But don't let that frighten you into not asking questions if you're really lost on concepts.  Mrs. Grimes is very understanding of students with questions, quite probably because several students still don't understand concepts from the first couple of weeks and need repeated explanations."

"Okay," I answered tentatively.

"There are a couple of 'problem students' in class that you should know about so you can avoid.  Mugwump thinks he's Harry Potter, and has an extremely arrogant, condescending attitude.  Don't let anything he says bother you - he's not worth worrying about.  Next is Caitlin Bardue - she's an artificer.  She has inked glyphs over her body, and is pretty powerful at using magic, but she doesn't understand what she's using, and her magic can get a little out-of-control at times if she gets stressed.  Belphoebe is one of the Drow collective."

"Drow?"

Ayla chuckled.  "A form of elf, but dark.  Black, in fact.  They're the result of Jobe's lab accident with a devisor serum intended to create his dream girlfriend/wife.  Think of Fey but with coal-black skin and white hair."  He glanced and saw the expression of disbelief on my face.  "Yeah.  They're quite ... unique.  Phebes is really nice, unlike Jobe.  But their very existence gets Fey and Aunghadhail's panties in a bunch."

"I can imagine," I replied automatically.  Actually, I couldn't imagine, unless the Sidhe were pretty racist.

"Irene, Palantir, is in junior high school, and the youngest one in the class.  We've kind of formed an alliance, because she hates Tansy Walcutt as much as I do."

"Tansy?"  I was glad I had a good memory, considering all the data I was collecting about other students.

"I knew her a long time ago in private grade school.  First-class bitch.  Arrogant, snobby, and not above dirty tricks.  She's got a wicked temper.  Avoid her like the plague.  She goes by Solange."

"Okay, Irene is cool, Tansy and Mugwump aren't.  Anyone else?"

"Geomancer, Winnie, is a sweet girl.  She's shy, especially about her stuttering, but she's really very nice.  She's on a training team with my former roommate Chou."

Before I could get any more run-down on students, we arrived at Kirby Hall, and walked into the classroom.  Ayla didn't hesitate to take his usual seat, next to a tween girl that I figured was Palantir.  The other chairs around Ayla were taken, so I glanced around nervously.

It wasn't too hard to figure out who Mugwump was; he wore an ill-fitting, overly-long robe as if he were Merlin, or a Dumbledore-wannabe, and he had a wand - really a crooked stick that desperately wanted to look like an impressive wand - on his desk, where he sat imperiously as if expecting that others in the class should bow to his bidding.  Arrogant wasn't the word I would have used - it was insufficient.  I saw his eyes narrow as he stared at me, and a sneer crossed his features when he recognized me as the girl who'd bumped into him in the caf doors the other night.  So _he_ was the one who shredded my ghost-walking spell.  Based on his attitude that evening, and from what Ayla had told me, I decided to start hating him right then to save time.

Caitlin Bardue was sitting alone; her hair looked like metal wire, and her eyes seemed to be etched in a way that reminded me of the light patterns on everything in the animated movie 'Atlantis'.  She looked me over, and then returned her attention to her books, having decided that I wasn't worth further study.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Fey walk in with a dignified woman who had a striking resemblance to Morticia Addams.  I scrambled to take a seat, and ended up next to a girl who, as I sat, eyed me critically, seemingly evaluating whether I was worthy of her time or not.  Another display of arrogance.  She was devastatingly pretty, and when I looked more closely I could see all the trappings of a rich snob.  Her fingers had a few bits of expensive jewelry, the bracelet on her wrist didn't look like cheap rhinestones, but from the way the stones glittered and sparkled, real diamonds.  Her earrings matched, as did the necklace hanging down into the valley created by her strategically partially-buttoned blouse.

"Hi," I whispered as Fey and the teacher strode to a desk at the front of the room.  "I'm Kayda."

This caused the girl to examine me further, but looking down her nose at me.  "Yes.  So I've heard."  She turned her attention back to the front of the room.

When I glanced to my side, I saw Ayla rolling his eyes and smirking.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I'd inadvertently sat next to Tansy, the rich bitch Ayla had warned me about.

Ms. Grimes clearing her throat got the class' attention, and, like everyone else, I turned to the front, only to find that she was staring right at me.  Being stared down by Morticia sounds like a creepy thing, but the thought of it is nothing compared to the reality.  Her concentrated stare made me think that she was using some mystical trick to measure my potential, or was doing a mental assessment after having heard reports about me.  There were many places I'd have rather been at that moment.

"You must be the new student I was informed of," Ms. Grimes said evenly, her face not betraying even the slightest hint of emotion.  Fey leaned closer and whispered something to her.  "Kayda, is that correct?"

I nodded, dimly aware of the derisive glare I was getting from my inadvertent neighbor, Tansy.  "Yes, ma'am."

"Are you here because you have magic ability you need to learn to control, or are you one of the inquisitive type who's here to learn more about the mystic arts?"

I _hated_ being put on the spot.  I was the newbie in class, and now I was the center of attention.  "Uh, I have magic abilities, but I really don't know how to use them, except for a few spells my spirit taught me.  My spirit is certain that I'll learn more, so they put me in here."

Ms. Grimes smiled broadly, and I saw a twinkle in Fey's eyes.  "Well, you've come to the right place."  Her piercing gaze made me nervous, despite her otherwise-pleasant demeanor.  "Since you have magic power, and since you missed our earlier round-table introduction, would you care to introduce yourself and tell us a little about your magic?"

"Uh, not really," I mumbled, aware that the spotlight on me had just turned up to about two million candlepower.  I felt the unwelcome stares of all the other students, or at least most of them, on me as I tried to sink lower into my chair.

Silently, gracefully, Fey glided to my side.  Beside me, Tansy's evil glare was shooting daggers at Fey, who didn't even acknowledge the rich bitch, but instead gracefully squatted down beside me.  "Just try, Kayda," she encouraged me.  Her eyes radiated calm and confidence.

From across the room, Ayla simply nodded at me, encouraging me in his own subtle way.

"Er," I winced as I tried to speak.  "I'm Kayda Franks."  Fey took my elbow and gently urged me to stand, and then led me up to the front of the room, reluctant though I was.  "I'm Kayda," I repeated at her urging.  "My spirit gives me magic powers."

"Do you know what kind of magic you use?" Ms. Grimes asked.

"I dunno," I replied shyly.  "I didn't know there are different kinds of magic."

A few students chuckled and tittered, which elicited an embarrassed frown from me, but a gesture or glance from Ms. Grimes halted the disruption.  "Since some of you apparently think it's amusing that Kayda doesn't yet know that which she hasn't yet learned, we'll have a pop quiz at the end of the class period to see how well _you_ all remember."  The silence was deafening.  "Okay, what can you tell us about your magic?"

"Mr. Lodgeman says it's like what he does," I answered nervously.

"Ah," Ms. Grimes said, smiling.  "That would be shamanism.  You're Native American?"  I nodded silently.  I wasn't feeling like saying anything more given the degree of unwanted attention I was getting.  "So you probably use some nature-based magic as well.  Is your magic all from your spirit, or do you have innate, natural magic ability?"

I shrugged.  "I don't know."

Now, according to Mr. Lodgeman, you can do healing magic?"

I nodded.  I didn't think it wise to say any more, especially since I was already very embarrassed.

"Can you describe your magic for us?"

I shrugged.  "I ... I don't know.  I just learn from my spirit, and then I do it.  I don't know how to describe it."

"How do you do your spells?"

Great.  I was the subject of 'show and tell' that day.  I sighed heavily and gave Fey a look that I intended to mean, 'please get me out of this'.  Alas, either the look didn't come out right, or Fey chose to ignore it.

"Some spells, like the minor healing spells or ghost-walking, I just chant the spell, but the real big healing spell takes some time to prepare a healing mixture of herbs and stuff - from my medicine bag, and then a ... I guess you'd call it a ritual or something ... to apply and chant to make the magic flow."

"Interesting," Ms. Grimes had one eyebrow cocked upward.  "Your spells sound like a mixture of nature magic and shamanism.  Does anyone remember what shamanism is, and what the difference between nature magic and natural magic is?"  She looked around the room.  Ayla sat smugly in his chair, a knowing look on his face, while beside him, Palantir was waving her hand excitedly in the air.  "Irene," Ms. Grimes called on her, "what's the difference between nature magic and natural magic?"

"Nature magic uses essence from nature, like plants and stuff?" Irene answered hesitantly, as if she wasn't quite certain, "and natural magic is magic that you can just do without thinking," Irene answered, looking at Fey with what I judged to be serious envy.  If I stayed in that class, I was going to have to ask Ayla what was up with that look.

Ms. Grimes nodded, smiling.  "Close enough."  She looked around the room again.  "And what's shamanism?"  No hands went up this time.  Sighing, she asked, "Ayla, can you remind the class of the definition of shamanism?"

"Shamanism is magic based on rituals and spells that transcend the physical into the astral plane as well.  Many of the shamanistic works are based on nature-based magic, infusing herbal medicines with spiritual magic through the rituals.  Some of the rituals, such as dream-walking, are ...."

"Thank you, Ayla," Ms. Grimes interrupted, cutting off his explanation.  Judging from Ayla's expression, it was not unexpected.  I'd heard that Ayla had a perfect memory, so if he'd read it in the book, he was apt to recite the section chapter and verse if asked.  No wonder Ms. Grimes called on him after no-one else could answer.

Ms. Grimes nodded to Fey.  "We'll review your tests from last week."  As Fey began handing out the graded papers, which were met with everything from 'woo-hoo', to sighs of relief, and all the way to groans of displeasure, Ms. Grimes took me lightly by the elbow and escorted me back to my desk.  "Do you know if your magic is from your spirit, or from yourself?"

I shook my head.  "When they did my powers testing in Sioux Falls, they didn't say."

"I'm sure the administration has scheduled you for a round of powers testing, haven't they?"

"No," I replied, "but Mrs. Hawkins said that they would."

"Good.  Once you known how much magic is from your spirit ...."

"Spirits," I corrected her.  "Two spirits."  I watched her eyes widen.  "Tatanka, the white buffalo, and Ptesanwi, the white buffalo calf woman."

"Two spirits, Miss Franks?  Impressive!"  I could tell from her voice that her words were genuine.  "Between the Avatars class and the power testing, you should learn a lot about dealing with your spirits."

I sighed, resigned to the fate bestowed on me by the administration but still quite unhappy about it.  "Mrs. Hawkins wouldn't put me in Avatars."

I didn't expect Ms. Grimes to scowl at that news, but she did.  "Knowing about your spirit, and more importantly, how to work with your spirit, is important to understanding how to work your magic.  In fact, it's _crucial_ to understanding your magic.  I'm shocked that you're not in an Avatars class."

I wanted to say, 'no shit!', but I held my tongue.  "Mr. Lodgeman told me I should be in that class as well, but someone in the administration screwed up and I got what I got."

"Don't give up trying," Ms. Grimes said.  "If there were mistakes made, you might have to fight to get them straightened out.  With two spirits, it's imperative that you get an Avatars class as soon as you can, especially since at least some of your magic is from the spirit you host.  Do you know anything about your spirits?"

I debated whether I should follow Wicitiglegla, or be truthful.  Based on the rather positive feedback I'd gotten from Ms. Grimes, I decided to be honest with her.  "One spirit is Tatanka, the _white_ buffalo spirit."

"I see," Ms. Grimes said, sounding a little impressed.

"And the other is Ptesanwi, emissary of Wakan Tanka."

Ms. Grimes' mouth dropped open fractionally, and for just a moment, displaying just _how_ impressed she was.  "And they _don't_ have you in an avatar class?"  She shook her head, a look of disbelief on her face.  "We'll see about that!  Because understanding your avatar is so important to your magic, I'm going to write a note to our department head stating that it's imperative for your magical instruction that you be placed in an avatar class _immediately_!"  She seemed quite upset.

"Uh, thank you," I stammered, stunned that someone was going to take my side in the battle against unreason.

Seeing that Fey was done handing out papers, she turned toward the front, but then paused.  "Find someone in the class you can work with.  You should already know the types of magic.  We're starting on the spheres and fields of magic this week.    When you know those, it'll give you a frame of reference that'll help you understand your own magic better.  And we'll often take class time for demonstrations of magic that fits the topic of the day, so if you know any spells, it wouldn't hurt to come to class prepared."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered as courteously as I'd been trained over all my earlier years.  She _was_ a teacher, and was due respect.  And despite having put me on the spot, overall she'd been respectful and hadn't deliberately humiliated me, unlike others who definitely were _not_ on my Christmas card list.  I put her in the 'decent human being' category of my Whateley list.  Three out of nine.  But the list was still dominated by the 'bitch' category.

The rest of the class mostly went over my head, as I didn't have the foundations that I needed from the class material I'd already missed.  I was so bummed and felt so overwhelmed - the first time in my life - that I bumped into Tansy as I got up, drawing a vicious glare and verbal flaying, and then I shuffled out of the classroom, still stinging from the invective she'd hurled at me.  I wasn't paying attention to my restrictions, either, because of the distractions, because without realizing it, I wandered out of Kirby Hall unaccompanied.

How had I ever thought that this would be a good idea?  What had possessed me into thinking that I had a prayer of succeeding when I was already weeks behind in everything?  These weren’t the normal classes I was used to; it was material that was so alien to me that I felt like I was starting from kindergarten level.  And I was a social pariah, or at least that's what I had convinced myself.  On top of that, there were minor little psychological issues like unwanted sex change, attempts on my life, and rape.  Damn.  I should have just stayed home.  I wasn't really paying attention to what was around me, just ambling along with the minor crowd of students leaving Kirby Hall.

A massive shove from an unseen force on my side sent me sprawling face-first into a pile of slushy, half-melted snow that still fought an inevitably losing battle against the onset of spring.  Behind me, I heard laughter from many of the students who had seen me go flying, and had stopped to mock the helpless little girl who had been pushed into a snowbank.  I rolled over, sitting in the slushy mess, feeling the cold half-melted snow soaking into my clothes, while slush dripped out of my hair and off my face.

"Get up, Kayda," I heard a gruff voice from beside me, speaking in Lakota.

Without looking, I knew it to be Tatanka.  How had I accidentally manifested him _this_ time?  I sighed heavily; maybe Hardass was right, and I should be in Hawthorne and wearing a UV armband if I couldn't control when Tatanka manifested.  "Why?  So they can knock me down again?" I asked Tatanka bitterly, using Lakota so no-one could understand.  After a heavy, resigned sigh, I grasped one of his horns and used it to pull myself to my feet again.  Around me, a few students had taken a nervous half-step back away from the massive white buffalo.

"Kayda," another voice called urgently from nearby, a voice I recognized as belonging to Nikki.  "Why didn't you wait for us?"  She was striding purposefully toward me, with Ayla at her side.  Both of them were scowling at me, a silent rebuke for having walked off without them.

Ayla saw the mess on my clothes and in my hair.  "What happened?"

"IDFM," I sighed unhappily, and on seeing their puzzled looks, I explained, "It doesn't fucking matter.  You couldn't have stopped whoever pushed me."  I glanced around, and thought I saw TK strutting quickly down the walk, glancing over his shoulder once, a smirk on his face.

"I don't think they'd have done this if we were here," Nikki replied.

"Great!" I said sarcastically and bitterly.  "Now I need to have protection from bullies!  This is third grade all over again!"  Without waiting for them, I turned and stormed off past Schuster, and turned toward Poe.  In a way, I was glad for the snow and slush melting in my hair and running down my face and neck, because it hid my tears.

In seconds, Ayla and Nikki caught up to me again.  "Wait up," Nikki said sternly.

I halted abruptly.  "What for?  I've got to deal with all this stuff myself."

"That's one way to look at it," Ayla commented.  "Or you can let friends help you so you don't feel like you have to deal with it all alone."

"If I don't deal with it myself," I spun toward them and replied angrily, "they'll just keep it up.  What happens if you or other friends aren't there to 'protect' me, huh?"  I returned to sulking.  "If they think I can't take care of myself, it'll show weakness, and that'll just put a huge target on my back for _all_ the bullies and pranksters and snobs!  You know it and I know it, so don't try to lie and pretend that everything will be sunshine and roses!"  Shaking my head, I added, "This really bites!"  I turned back toward

"Wow," Nikki exclaimed softly, "you were in a _lot_ better mood this morning.  What happened?"

I shook my head angrily.  "The same crap that's happened every day since I got to this hell-hole," I said, sulking.  "A whole pack of idiots are trying to screw me over."

Ayla glanced nervously at Nikki.  "What now?"

"They're making me take first-year algebra.  Algebra fucking one!  I learned, no, I _mastered_ algebra when I was in fourth and fifth grade, I finished enough undergraduate math classes for a BS degree by the time I was done with eighth grade, and I've been studying graduate-school level topics for the past year and a half, but now my advisor is making me retake a stupid class that I aced more than five years ago!"

"Wow!  Someone who's got more ambition in math than you do, Ayles," Nikki kidded Ayla, to which Ayla just raised an eyebrow while trying to appear inscrutable.

I wiped more slush from my face and hair.  "And to think that I was looking forward to this place based on what Debra, Vanity Girl, and Wishlist told me," I added with a resigned sigh.  "My old school had around a hundred students, so there weren't any cool, advanced classes like here.  I wanted to take something interesting and challenging, not have to repeat Algebra fucking one and take boring run-of-the-mill classes I would have taken back home!"

"Who's your advisor?" Ayla asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Mrs. Hawkins.  And because she didn't understand my transcripts, or lost them, or something, I have to retake English 1 again, too!"

Ayla had a contemplative look, which gave me pause. "Hawkins?  I think I can have a word or two with her to help straighten things out.  Or you can talk to Zenith to see if she can help.  That's her job as cottage 'fixer'."

Gak! How much influence did Ayla have around here?  "Uh, let me try myself."  Okay, I was used to being self-sufficient, and I didn't really like to ask others for help.  "To top it all off," I continued my story, "I'm in nine classes this term."

Nikki's eyes widened at that news.  "That's a lot," she said, wincing.  She glanced at Ayla.  "Even more than you, Ayles."  She looked back at me.  "At least you won't have any trouble with algebra and English, so that'll cut down on your homework."

"That's not the point!" I shot back, my frustration level rising even more.  "They won't listen to me!  They keep trying to mess with me.  First it's all the security crap, where they treated _me_ like I was the perp.  Then Hartford tried to shove me into Hawthorne.  They made it almost impossible, and humiliating to even eat at the caf over the weekend, and then they royally screw up my classes!"  I wiped at the slushy gunk running down my face.  "And I'm the target of all the bullies, too!"

"I know what that's like," Ayla said, trying to reassure me.  It was nice that he felt he could be supportive of me without me freaking out.  Okay, that was one good thing for the day.  "I got bullied a lot, and still do, because I'm a Goodkind."

"Yeah?  Well, you've got the money to buy them off, and from what I've heard, the powers to stop them.  I don't," I muttered, sounding like I was mired in self-pity - which I probably was, at least a bit.  "All I can do is try to hide, and heal myself up if they don't kill me first."  Was I bitter?  Hell, yes.  I always hated bullies, ever since I was on the receiving end of the abuse in third grade.  Now, I was back in that same old game.

"Most battles are won by avoiding them in the first place," Nikki tried to calm me.

"Just what I want - a reputation as a coward!" I snorted.  "As if _that_ doesn't invite more harassment and bullying, too!"

"I can't begin to count the number of harassing situations I've run from," Ayla replied.  "I wouldn't want to guess."

"Except you wouldn't have to guess, would you, Ayles?" Nikki teased Ayla.

Ayla sighed, rolling his eyes.  After Friday, it was really, really hard ... er, difficult ... to _not_ think of him as a 'he', despite the fact that most of his body was an incredibly cute girl.  "Thirteen in the first four weeks," Ayla reported after the briefest of pauses.  "Most of the idiots have given up, but they haven't all stopped."

Nikki laughed.  "But Ayles found a very clever way to deter aggression."  I saw Ayla blush a tiny bit, which was probably a huge display of emotions considering how he usually hid his feelings.  "He arranged with another student, a high-level regenerator, to stage a little ... injury."  She was fighting to not cry from laughing, and struggling to speak through her mirth.  "In the middle of the quad, when it was very crowded and busy, Ayla faked ripping the guy's ... thing ... right off his body!"  She couldn't continue for a few seconds.  "It was ... hilarious!  The ... prop he had was so realistic, with fake blood and everything!" she gasped between spasms of laughter.  "You should have seen all the guys faces as they shielded their crotches!"

Ayla simply shrugged nonchalantly.  "It worked.  Almost all of the harassment stopped, although I did have to convince security _and_ Mrs. Carson to go along with the ruse so it would be effective.  And that got me a week of detention in Hawthorne."

I didn't know whether to laugh or recoil in horror and cover my crotch.  It sounded quite gruesome, and at the same time, funny, since it was a very clever way to let people know Ayla was dead serious about confronting bullies.  After gawking at the two, slack-jawed and speechless, for a few seconds, I just shook my head.  "Yeah, but you've got powers that let you do that.  I don't."

Nikki put her arm around my shoulder.  "You have to come up with your own ways," she said.  "I know you can, and you will."

"But I've got nothing."

"You've got your bison," Ayla countered.

I snorted derisively, confusing them.  "Yeah, he can tear up a PK field, but it drains me physically, and if he gets injured, I feel it, too.  So he's only of limited use against bricks, and he's no good against speedsters, energizers, telekinets, warpers, and especially not wizards.  Which is most of Whateley students.  Besides, if I use Tatanka offensively, Mrs. Carson, Ms. Hartford, and Chief Delarose all said I'd get transferred to Hawthorne - if I'm lucky and they don’t expel me."  I sighed heavily.  "I wish I knew what Debra and Wish List and the rest of the Sioux Falls League found so wonderful about this place, because I sure haven't found it.  All I've found is five days of trouble and frustration, and it's five days because I've only been here five days."

Nikki actually had the gall to laugh, which angered me greatly, enough that I wanted to punch her right in her smirking face.  "It hasn't been a piece of cake for us, you know.  For starters, we got in a fight with ninjas in our first few nights.  We broke up a sacrifice to Gothmog, broke up a bunch of crystal wavers, had three fights with supervillains in Boston, each battled at least something bad or nasty on Christmas break ...,"

"Don't forget the voodoo wolves," Ayla reminded Nikki.  "Or when Nex tried to maim and scar you, or when the Young Turks ambushed you, or ...."

"And all the times the Alphas ambushed you, and Fireball tried to kill you, too.  I think Kayda gets the point," Nikki interrupted him quickly, probably fearing that Ayla would do a day-by-day recitation of every problem they'd had since they started at the academy.  "The thing is, this is Whateley, and everyone here has some kind of mutant powers.  Because of that, bullies are tougher."

"That sounds _soooo_ encouraging!" I muttered sarcastically.  "As if regular bullies aren't bad enough."

"I don't know what you want to hear us say," Nikki said in frustration.  "I can't tell you it'll all be somehow peachy.  You'll have good days and bad days, like all of us."

"I'd like to have at least _one_ good day!" I said with a heavy sigh.  I could feel a sense of depression and hopelessness building in me again.  It was hard to look for rays of sunshine when it seemed the sky was completely overcast - and raining.

Ayla cocked his head to one side a bit and changed the subject.  "I was reading up on the lore of the Lakota tribes last night ...," he began.

"Any reason?" Nikki teased him.

Ayla blushed.  "Well, yes.  Since Kayda's spirits are Lakota, it seemed only natural ...."

"To learn what you'll be up against when she inevitably decides to kick your rear end for being a smart-ass know-it-all," Nikki giggled.

The crimson on Ayla's cheeks deepened in color.  "According to legend, when the White Buffalo Calf Woman was approached by the evil warrior, she called down ..."

"... a cloud, and when it lifted, all that was left was his bones," I finished.  "Yes, the original acid rain.  I heard that tale many, many times from my grandmother."

"Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka snapped at me sharply as my consciousness was yanked brutally and abruptly into dream-space.  Wakan Tanka's voice was harsher and more insistent than I'd ever heard.

"Yes?" I answered, stunned by her tone.  I turned toward her, and saw that her glower matched her acerbic voice.

"You must NEVER speak of that spell or ability, do you understand?" Wakan Tanka demanded.

"Uh, yeah," I answered meekly.  "Why not?"  I couldn't help my curiosity.  After all, when a teen is told not to do something, they want to do it even more.

"It is a very, very powerful spell.   You are not ready to even attempt that spell, because doing so before you're ready would almost certainly kill you.  Even when you are fully trained, it is dangerous to you and to those around you.  It could as easily kill your friends as your foes if it isn't done perfectly."

In all the time I'd spent in the dream-world with Wakan Tanka, I'd never seen her, or heard her, this upset or angry.  From what she described, the spell was way beyond what I would be able to control.  I gulped at the thought of hurting a friend or friends accidentally with that spell. "Yes, Wakan Tanka."

"No-one must know that you have the potential of your legends, do you understand?"

"Wiciteglega," I answered, using the name of the raccoon, the one who uses misdirection and disguise.

Wakan Tanka nodded.  "Very good, Wihakayda."

I realized that I'd stopped, and that Nikki and Ayla were giving me strange looks.  "What?" I asked.

"You kind of zoned out for a few seconds," Nikki replied slowly and cautiously.  "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I answered with a nod.  "Wakan Tanka just had some ... advice ... about, um, dealing with bullies."  I knew I wasn't a good liar, and that neither of the two would probably believe me.  I resumed walking toward our cottage.

"So _do_ you have the power from the lore about Ptesanwi?" Ayla returned to the topic.  "If so, it would be a great deterrent."

I felt a shudder of unease, but decided immediately to follow Wakan Tanka's advice.  I forced myself to chuckle as if it were a joke.  "You know how legends and lore are often quite different from facts.  According to legend, I should be able to turn myself into weird-colored buffalo calves, too."  I shrugged, trying to grin.  "Sorry.  Just another exaggeration, I guess."

Nikki's expression seemed rather telling; she _knew_ more than she was letting on, and didn't seem surprised that I downplayed the legend.  Ayla didn't look like he believed me, but dropped the subject, at least temporarily.

Somewhere along the way, Tatanka demanifested, because I could feel him back in my head.  The funny thing was that I didn't really know when he'd vanished, because I was busy talking with Ayla and Nikki.

"Do you have your books for the afternoon?" Nikki asked out of the blue.

"Yeah."

"Then let's just go straight to the caf," Ayla followed up on Nikki's idea without any prompting from her.

"But," I stammered, realizing the issue, "I'm not sure when Evvie and Naomi ..."

"Not to worry.  It's not like there are thousands and thousands of students here.  They'll find you," Nikki reassured me.  With that, Nikki took my elbow and turned me toward Crystal Hall.

I sighed resignedly.  If Nikki and Ayla wanted, they could physically force me to go, but I doubted they'd stoop to that.  Instead, Nikki was being sweet, reassuring, and concerned at almost sickeningly-sweet, grandmotherly levels of mother-henning.  And Ayla was acting like, well, like Ayla, which was carrying the appearance of an overly self-confident rich person.  In reality, as I'd accidentally discovered, Ayla seemed to have a caring side that he didn't to like to expose, perhaps from fear that it made him feel vulnerable.  As far as I could see in just a few days, Ayla's supposed forte, his confidence and determination, were also symptoms of not-so-hidden emotional vulnerability.

"What if they're not there?  I'm not supposed to be left alone, ever," I protested weakly, the strength of my argument undermined by my hunger.

"You won't be.  We'll be there," Ayla assured me.

"Did you get your ID?" Nikki asked, having heard the stories of how the lunch people had humiliated me simply because security hadn't gotten me an ID.

"Yeah.  Heather and I picked it up on the way back from the bookstore."

"Good.  You won't have to deal with any hassles from the cashiers at the caf then," Ayla offered a ray of hope.

Perhaps, with all the crap I'd had to deal with since my manifestation, my need for something good had turned to desperation, because the thought of a simple thing like getting a meal without a hassle almost overwhelmed me with happiness.  "Well, there is that."

Inside the caf, the line was a little longer than I'd experienced, because, unlike the weekends, almost all of the students ate on the same shift, so over six-hundred hungry mouths had to be fed, some of them in enormous quantities.

"And who's this lovely new lady?" a guy's voice rang out loudly.  Just his tone of voice made my skin crawl.

I glanced around and saw that he was staring at me.  More specifically, he was staring at my chest, and wearing a leering grin that defined a nine-point-five or ten on the creepily-lecherous scale.

Ayla stepped from behind me and glowered at the lech.  "Peeper, how would you like your computer to suddenly quit working?"

The intruder's skin paled visibly.  "Er, no, Ayla," he stammered, frightened by whatever threat lay in Ayla's words.  "I, er, I was just, um, saying 'hi', wasn't I, Greaseball?"  He nudged the boy standing next to him in the food service line.

"Uh, yeah, Peeper," the second boy echoed quickly.  "He just said 'hi'."  The two turned away sharply.

"Why didn't you tell me that Ayla was with her?" Peeper spat angrily at his friend.  "You know what that could have cost me?"

"Oh, crap," Nikki cussed softly.  "I forgot about getting Kayda a set of beads."  The look on her face was one of profound embarrassment, as if she'd missed something vital.

"Beads?" I asked softly.

"Yeah," she whispered.  "I enchanted some beads when Peeper's leering got to be a bit too much."

"While there are no official reports," Ayla continued in a hushed, conspiratorial voice, "all of his behaviors suggest that Peeper has mild x-ray vision, which means he can see through clothing."

I couldn't help glancing down, my eyes goggling with shock at what I'd just heard.  If true, then Peeper had just gotten an eyeful of my private parts.  I looked up at Ayla and Nikki, my eyes pleading.

Nikki nodded her confirmation.  "That's what the enchanted beads are for.  They give a magical illusion to what Peeper sees, something repulsive to him so that he barely glances, let alone gawks, at girls anymore."

"All the girls in Poe, and many of the girls on campus, have a set that they wear at all times, because one never knows when the Peepster will turn up," Ayla finished.

"I need to start carrying spares," Nikki chided herself.  "I'll get you a set after classes."

"So what does he see?"

Nikki glanced at Ayla.  "Men's privates," she whispered to me conspiratorially, all the while watching to see how I was going to react.

I gulped at the reminder.  "I'm glad I don't have that kind of vision."  If I had, I'm sure I'd be bound in a strait-jacket in Doyle, heavily sedated, and drooling due to irrecoverable panic attack.  I had a sudden thought push aside my panic.  "Can you make a custom set for me?"

Nikki eyed me cautiously.  "What did you have in mind?"

I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, and Nikki nodded, grinning.  "That's a devious, sneaky, great idea!" she said.  "I'll make a set for you tonight."

The rest of the bits of conversation in line were more mundane than an x-ray visioned peeping Tom - more mundane if one considers magical arts class to be 'normal'.  Nikki feasted at the salad bar and on vegetables, while Ayla filled his plate with more normal fare, and then some kind of special treat from one of the chefs.  Nikki caught me staring at Ayla chatting with the cook as he took the plate.

"Ayles has a deal going with the chefs," she explained.  "He's treated them to air-fare for vacations and stuff, and he's always super complimentary and nice to the chefs, and in exchange, they give him something that's not part of the normal fare for us hoi polloi."

With my new ID card, checking out was almost anti-climactic, especially after I noticed several students deliberately avoid the line I was in, joining longer lines because they were certain that my checkout would take forever - again.  The joke was on them this time; I waltzed right through.

"Are Evvie and Naomi here yet?" Nikki asked when she'd finished in the cashier's line and she saw me scanning the tables.

"Nope.  Not yet."

"You're welcome to come upstairs and join us," Ayla offered.

My eyes must have nearly bulged from their sockets at the offer.  First of all, how did a group of freshmen, Team Kimba, rate a table on the top floor, where all the 'in groups' sat?  I gulped at the thought that Team Kimba was far more influential or far more powerful than I would have given them credit for.  Second of all, after the snarky way the one upperclassman had humiliated me the other day, I couldn't even imagine going upstairs.

"Uh, that's okay.  They're in line, so I'll just go to where they usually sit and wait for them," I lied uneasily.  Without waiting for them to insist, I weaved my way through the tables and plopped my butt down at the place Evvie, Naomi, and the others had sat the few times I'd actually dined with them, and as others sat at other tables around me, I watched nervously for my friends to arrive.  I hoped that the usual weekend table was also the usual weekday table, but I had no way of being certain.  I shuddered to think that I might be sitting in the usual weekday spot of some group of bullies or 'in' crowd types.

Picking at my food unenthusiastically, I looked around for my friends and roommate.  Near me, conversations raged loudly and with great passion, from friendly arguments to jokes, to comments about classes.  Meanwhile, I became aware - belatedly - that by sitting alone, I was calling attention to myself, the very thing I'd hoped to avoid in the first place.  And with Ayla and Nikki having accepted my lie and having ascended to their table on one of the exalted upper levels, I didn't have anyone to 'escort' me past the snobs, bitches, in-crowd, and ranking bullies to get to their table.  I didn't dare to even try, not after the snobby, condescending response I'd gotten once before.

As I was about to give up on trying to eat because of a lack of appetite, which in turn was brought on by being nervous about an awkward social situation, Evvie plopped her tray opposite me.  My sense of relief was palpable, and from her knowing smile, Evvie could tell how gratified I was that she was finally at the table.  Scant seconds later, Naomi joined her, and within another two minutes, Laurie and Adrian took seats with us.

"Where's Vasiliy?" I asked, curious.

"Trying to impress Chat Bleu," Laurie scoffed.  "Give him a minute to get over being shot down - yet again, and he'll be here."

"You can almost set your watch by it," Naomi added dryly.

As predicted, Vasiliy arrived at the table within two minutes, greeting everyone enthusiastically.

"So what kind of fanciful story were you using to try to impress her today?" Evvie asked just as Vasiliy shoved a bite of meatloaf in his mouth.

"Was telling story of great uncle, who was famous mathematician," Vasiliy replied immediately, speaking through a mouthful of food.

"Couldn't have been from your family," Adrian guffawed, "because I've seen your grades in math.  They suck.  One of the two of you had to be adopted, because you don't have even the slightest hint of genes from your so-called uncle."

"So, hot-shot," Laurie said mockingly, "if you have a famous uncle, who is he?"

"I might have heard of him," I added to the conversation.  "I've studied quite a bit of advanced math."

Laurie snatched my schedule, which I'd had sitting on the table to review while I ate.  "So, the wunderkind is so knowledgeable in math, and yet she's in Algebra 1?" she teased.

Mist filled my eyes as I clenched my jaw angrily, taking a deep breath through flared nostrils, before I caught myself and forced my hurt and anger down.  It had been an innocent comment, not intentionally hurtful.  I sighed, rolling my eyes.  "It's a major screw-up by my advisor and the school.  I've taken graduate-level math classes - for credit - before I came here.  I've done two semesters' worth of differential equations, advanced numerical analysis, advanced statistical analysis, and I'm trying to finish my work in abstract algebra.  Yeah, I know my way around math, but the idiots in the administration couldn't, or wouldn't try to, figure out my transcripts so they mindlessly put me in Algebra 1."  I glared at the group, daring them to comment.  Thankfully, none of them did, because with the mood I was in, I might have launched at a snarky soliloquy.

"Great uncle was Konstantin Sergeiovich Volkov.  Studied under Nikolai Ivanovich Lobachevsky," Vasiliy said proudly, thankfully taking the focus off me and my woes.

"I've heard of Lobachevsky, but never Volkov."

"Bozhe Moy!  Is very famous!  So famous, great American mathematician and singer Tom Lehrer wrote immortal song about dyadya Volkov's contribution and methodology he learned from tutor Lobachevsky!  Surely you have heard of song 'Lobachevsky'!"

Everyone I saw rolled their eyes at Vasiliy's claim.  Given that he was prone to exaggerate more than a bit, I found it hard to believe.  Still, math was a very broad subject, and his uncle might have made a significant contribution in an area I hadn't yet studied.

I shook my head.  "I've never heard of it ...,"

Everyone else joined in a chorus of, "... and don't call me Shirley!" which got us giggling a bit.  I was actually surprised that the girls keyed on the line immediately, because it was my impression that girls almost universally loathed the movie 'Airplane', from whence that gag came.

The discussion among them about classes picked up, leaving me feeling left out since I'd just started.  Besides, they were in more advanced mutant classes, having already taken, in their fall term, the basics that I was just starting now.  After a bit, I was playing with my food more than really eating it, and I was feeling excluded from the conversation, and thus the group, which led to a feeling of restlessness and being cooped up.  I wanted to get outside.  I _needed_ to get outside, even though the caf was more open and airy-feeling than most classrooms.

"I need to go outside some," I interjected at a convenient pause in the conversation.  "My ... spirit is kind of restless indoors."  With that, I stood up, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and picked up my tray.  Without even bothering to check if anyone was coming with me, I bussed my tray and stepped outside.

A few guys noticed me, giving me an appreciative once-over look as they eyed up and down my body, causing me to shudder inwardly.  At least now I knew why the thought of guys creeped me out, even though knowing didn't make it feel any less creepy.  In fact, in some ways, it felt worse now that I knew.

Compared to the climate-controlled interior of Crystal Hall, outside it was a little brisk, with a light, cool breeze, despite the best efforts of the early-spring sun to warm things up.  I knew just where I wanted to go; strewn about the quad were a few a little walled detached patio areas, open to the south, with benches for seating.  They were ideal for early spring or late fall sunning or studying, since the waist-high walls were good windbreaks against chilly winds, and facing south, they absorbed the sun's rays into the brick and concrete of the structure.

I opted to sit cross-legged on the concrete, leaning back against the warm brick wall.  The contrast in temperatures between the cool patio, still chilly from the cold ground beneath it, and the warm wall, was invigorating.

I'd barely settled into my comfortable position than Evvie and Naomi arrived.  "You're going to get yourself in trouble if you keep wandering off without escort," Evvie cautioned me as the duo settled onto a bench.

"Meh," I muttered.  "If it gets me out of some of these stupid classes."  I saw the looks of utter horror on the girls' faces at my seeming ambivalence. 

Unbidden, Tatanka manifested himself, about three-quarters sized and lying on the concrete facing me.  "Wihakayda," he said in greeting.

"What do you want?" I demanded, speaking in Lakota because I was aggravated at his habit of appearing when I least expected it and inevitably lecturing me about something or other.

"You must come to the dream-world," Tatanka answered in English.

"Why?" I asked angrily.

"Come."  He vanished, and my consciousness was snapped into the dream-world.

"What do you want?" I asked gruffly as I plopped my butt on a nearby rock.  I would have preferred the fire ring of the village, but Tatanka preferred more natural settings.  "I was comfortable."

"I have someone you must meet."

"I'm kind of busy right now," I protested.

"No, you are resting between your classes, and sulking," Tatanka retorted.  "Since you are learning today, a break from your real-world classes is a good time for a lesson here."

"What are you going to nag me about today?"

"Not me.  Come.  There is a spirit you must meet."

My eyes widened at his words.  Meet a spirit, as opposed to just look and listen to one of Tatanka's lectures?  "Why now? I want to enjoy some time with my friends."

"Come."  Tatanka ambled off toward some nearby trees.

Frustrated, I followed him.  Suddenly, I froze.  Ahead of me was an animal I had no desire whatsoever to meet.  Tatanka, however, walked right up to the skunk.  "Greetings, Maka," he said amiably.

Surprisingly, the skunk answered.  "Greetings, mighty Tatanka.  To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

"Wakan Tanka's protege behind me is having trouble withauthorities," Tatanka explained simply.

"Hey!" I protested.  "I am _not_!"

"Are your teachers authorities?" Tatanka asked.

"Well, yeah," I mumbled, stymied in my angry denial.

Maka shook his head, making something of a tsk-tsk sound. "She is but a child," he said to Tatanka.  "What do you expect?"

"Even a young child," Tatanka explained patiently to the skunk spirit, "shows respect for elders, and does not deliberately flout rules."

Maka thought a moment, and then he walked over to me.  He sniffed my legs and feet for a bit, making me extremely nervous.  All I knew of skunks was that they were pests and sprayed their noxious odors on things when startled.  "She has the scent of the white man's civilization," he said.

"Yes.  So much of the world does.  It is no longer the time of the open prairie, of the herds of millions, and the balance of things."

Maka looked up at me.  "Sit, young one," he ordered.

Not knowing what else to do, with a worried glance Tatanka's way, I sat cross-legged on the ground.

"Why do you show no respect to authority?  What have they done that deserves such a response from you?"

I shook my head slowly.  How would I ever explain to a skunk spirit what the administration and security had done to me, how they'd messed up my life?  "They don't listen to my needs.  They ignore what I have already learned, and place me in classes which I don't need, while preventing me from taking classes I _do_ need, or electives which I really want."

"And you know what is right better than authorities who have done this for years?  Leaders who have far more experience than you?" Maka asked sarcastically.

"They treat me like a child!"

"You _are_ a child," Maka countered sharply.  "You may have powerful spirits within you, but you are still a child.  Your teachers and elders know far more than you, and they use that wisdom to guide you.  But they cannot do their jobs if you show them no respect, if you constantly question their decisions."

"How respectful is it to _me_ that they make me repeat that which I learned long ago?"

"So you lash out in anger and frustration?" Maka asked.  "What will become of your tantrums?  What good will they do?"

I started to open my mouth, but I stopped and thought a moment.  "They'll listen to what I'm saying?" I asked hesitantly.

"No," Maka replied.  "They will not.  All your lack of respect for authorities and the resulting fits will get you is a reputation as a trouble-maker.  Do you listen to a baby who's having a fit?  Do you reason with a toddler screaming because she didn't get what she wanted?

I lowered my gaze, exhaling slowly.  "No."

"Why not?"

"Because ... they don't know what's best for them."

"And if they continue to show no respect, but to have tantrums instead, what happens?

I knew where this was going.  "They get branded as trouble-makers, and people don't want to be around them."

"And in the end, do they get what they demanded?"

I shook my head.  "No," I admitted sheepishly.  Maka had a point, even as much as I hated to concede that he was correct.

"But that's what you're doing to yourself, isn't it?" Maka crawled up in my lap, curling up like a cat.  A cat with a long, striped tail like those pursued by Pepe Le Pew in the cartoons.   "You will get a reputation as a trouble-maker, and others will show you no respect.  To earn respect, you must show it to others.  To have your elders and authorities listen to you, you must first listen to them."

"So I just knuckle under to things that are stupid and a waste of my time?"

"No!" Maka retorted sternly.  "That is not what I said.  Let me ask a question - do you know why the authorities made the decisions they made?"

I nodded slowly.  "I think so.  One person intensely dislikes the shaman who brought me to the school."

"So you fight a high authority?  And you hope to win?"  Maka shook his head.  "You _think_ you know the reason, and you respond accordingly in anger and frustration."

"So what _should_ I do?"

"Ah, now comes the learning.  Asking questions and seeking answers instead of just lashing out in anger."  He glanced up at Tatanka.  "I thought you told me that Wihakayda was too stubborn to learn!"  I scowled at the little spirit, but he just looked back at me with a cute little face.  Dammit, he was making it hard to stay angry, even if he was a skunk.

"Do other animals respect me?  Even the People – do they respect me?"

I frowned.  "They _fear_ you, and your spray."

"No, Wihakayda, that is where you are wrong.  The animal spirits respect me, because I respect them.  The People respect me, and I respect them.  It is the foolish young ones, who have no respect for themselves, and thus can have no respect for others, who fear me, because I am prepared to defend myself against them.  Does that make sense to you?"

I thought a moment, and then nodded. "Yes.  It does."

"If you learn the facts, respecting your elders, then you can find a path to get them to respect you and to listen to you and to consider the facts as you see them.  If you respect them, they will reciprocate.  But if you fight, if you respond in anger, you will earn no respect from them, and you will earn a bad reputation."

I was suddenly yanked out of my dream-world, and I looked around to see why.  Evvie and Naomi were staring at me, concern on their faces.  "What?"

Naomi shook her head in amazement at how I was acting.  "You zoned out there for a few minutes," she replied.  "It was starting to get scary."

"What were you doing?  Some serious meditation or something?" Evvie asked.

I chuckled.  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try us," Naomi urged, as if daring me to tell my tale.

"I was in my dream-world, getting lectured about respect and reputation by a skunk spirit," I replied.  I watched their expressions rapidly pass from 'you're kidding' to 'are you serious', and finally settling on 'are you always going to do weird stuff like this?'  I chuckled some more.  "Yeah, a skunk spirit.  You know what?  The little guy was kind of cute - once I got past the fear of him spraying me."

As we sat, conversing casually and enjoying the warmth of the little alcove, I was yanked back into my dream-world when I saw an Oriental girl walking across campus, holding hands with an Oriental boy and an Anglo girl.

"Do you see the girl in the middle?" Wakan Tanka asked me.

"The oriental girl?"

"Yes.  She is the servant of a very, very powerful force," she explained.  "She must be dealt with cautiously, because she is extremely dangerous."

"But ... we are Ptesanwi!  And you are Wakan Tanka!"

"And she serves something far more powerful than us.  She serves the balance, the spirit that keeps the world in harmony."

"Is this the balance you have referred to?  The balance we must restore?"

"It is far more than that, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka explained.  "We seek harmony in nature, where man and nature exist together in balance.  She serves balance in the universe, in all things.  To us, balance is absence of evil spirits.  To her, balance includes good and evil spirits which offset one another.  She could be a powerful ally, or a most dangerous foe."

I gulped.  "How do we know which?"

"We don't know," Wakan Tanka answered grimly.  "That is why you must avoid her attention until we _do_ know."

**********

With a bit of attitude adjustment, English was tolerable - barely.  To paraphrase Caesar, veni, vidi, extrinsecus est.  I came, I saw, I got bored.  First, the teacher, Ms. Seever, didn't even want to hear that I was mistakenly in her class.  My name was on the new roster, ergo I was in the right class - regardless of what my high school transcripts said.  When I respectfully asked that she or the department chair check into my transcripts, she accused me of being uncooperative and having a bad attitude, all the while I was trying to patiently explain that I was technically a sophomore, that I'd had English I the year before, and had been taking English II until I manifested.

Class proceeded like all English classes, which is to say painfully slowly, or worse.  Worse because Ms. Seever called on me several times, which was annoying because in theory, I had only started and was two weeks behind.  Perhaps she disliked me for some reason, or perhaps my name came up on the 'pick on this student today' lottery.  In any event, I got called on frequently enough that it was statistically highly improbable.  The first time, I replied quickly and correctly.  The second time, I gave a heavy sigh before giving the correct response, as if answering was an unrealistic burden.  The third time I was called on, I made sure she heard my derisive snort before I answered.  The fourth time I rolled my eyes, before replying 'whatever'.  The fifth time, I just ignored her.  Five times in a row, in a class of twenty-five students, was a five-sigma event.  I _knew_ it couldn't be coincidence.

After dismissal, while all the students were slogging their way wearily toward the exit, she called to me.  "Miss Franks."  She sounded quite insistent, so I trudged to her desk.

"Yes, Ms. Seever?"

"Class participation is a key element of your grade, but when I called on you today to evaluate your knowledge of what we've already covered, you seemed to be ignoring me."

"Because I had this class last year before I manifested," I explained as patiently as I could - again.  "Prior to
manifesting, I was a sophomore in English II."

She was not to be dissuaded from her incorrect convictions.  "If that was correct, you would have been placed in English II instead of this class."

"My advisor did not have my complete high-school transcripts, so she signed me up for two classes that I've already had.  I certainly didn't want to repeat classes, because there are some classes I should take relating to my powers, such as Avatars I."

"I'm sure you'll get the classes you need in your four years here."

"I won't be here for four years, because, as I said, I'm technically a sophomore.  I had this last year, and repeating it is keeping me from taking relevant courses that Mr. Lodgeman and others know I should be taking," I said, trying not to clench my jaw in anger, and to put into practice what Maka had told me, to show her respect even if she was way past my tolerance level of pigheadedness.  "Repeating classes is keeping me from learning about avatars, which in turn is impeding my learning about the magic that gives me, and taking some classes that my old high school didn't offer.  But because of mistakes, I don't get that opportunity.  Would you care to see a copy of my transcripts from my old high school?  Maybe a copy of my birth certificate to prove that I'm of age to be a sophomore, too?"  Okay, I realized that the last comment was over the top and a bit snarky.  More than a bit.

Ms. Seever frowned deeply.  "I really don't like that attitude, young lady."

'Remember Maka.  Remember Maka,' I told myself to try to calm the simmering anger and resentment.  "And I really don't like repeating classes I've had and missing classes I need because of mistakes by administration," I replied, trying to keep a calm, diplomatic voice.  Unfortunately, I'd had little practice in being diplomatic and tactful, so I probably came across as angry.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to meet my 'escort' to my next class, again thanks to someone in the administration screwing with my life."  I stomped out of the classroom, knowing that Ms. Seever was behind me, glaring at my display of disrespect.

Electrode, Jackie Warwick, was waiting for me in the hall, and when she saw my expression - a mixture of anger and frustration - she bounced to my side.  "Are you okay, Kayda?" she asked quickly.  Jackie was another changeling like me, and she'd been very staunch in her support when I'd revealed my ordeal.

"I'm trying to not be pissy," I replied heavily, "but I'm so frustrated!  They put me in English 1 again.  I was in English II before I manifested, so this is a complete and total waste of my time."

"Did you talk to your advisor?" Jackie asked as we started walking toward my next class.

"She's the one who put me here, and she wouldn't listen to anything I had to say," I grumbled.  I halted and touched her arm, which caused her to stop and turn toward me.  "I have a question, and I'd like an honest answer," I said haltingly.

"Okaaaayyyy," Jackie answered nervously, not sure where this was going.

"Am I ...," I began.  I didn't quite know how to ask the question.  "Am I difficult?  To deal with, I mean?"

Jackie winced.  "Uh, with what you've been through, I don't think so.  I think it's understandable."

"But if you didn't know that story?"

She looked at the floor, afraid of how I was going to react.  "Uh, yeah, kind of," she admitted slowly.  "You come across as having a 'tude, like you don't trust the whole world, and like you're in a pretty deep funk that you don't seem to want out of, but you want everyone around you to know."  She put her hand on my arm.  "I'm sorry," she apologized.  "You asked me to be honest."

I let my head sag forward.  "Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

"And sometimes, you seem like you're a loner, like you don't want anyone around you," Jackie added.  "I suppose that comes from being hurt so badly."

"Wow.  Maka and Tatanka were right, but I didn't believe them."

Jackie's brow wrinkled.  "Maka and Tatanka?"

I gave a half-chuckle, which was an effort, given my emotional state.  "Animal spirits that have been trying to get some lessons through this thick head of mine."  I sighed (it seemed that I was doing that a lot more often, which might have been a result of my emotional turmoil).  "I guess I'm sometimes a little too stubborn for my own good."

"I understand if you feel overwhelmed at times," Jackie offered.  "I went through it, too."  She realized what she'd said.  "Not as bad as you had it, but it was still pretty overwhelming."  She paused to see if I was going to take offense.  Seeing no reaction from me, she continued, "I had a period where nothing was right, everything was wrong, my life was totally hosed, and nobody listened to what I felt or needed.  At least, that's the way it felt to me."

We resumed walking.  "Yeah, that's what it feels like.  I feel - completely out of control, and overwhelmed."  After a long pause, I continue.  "How did you do it?  How did you cope with feeling like that?"

Jackie smiled.  "My motto."

"Your motto?"

" Illegitimi non carborundum," Jackie's smile turned into a grin.  "Don't let the bastards win."

"Yeah, like that's going to help.  Hardass hates me, Security is watching me like a hawk, Carson basically told me that she can't be bothered with my problems and that if I messed up again, she might have to expel me.  I'm stuck in classes I've already had, with teachers who have bad attitudes ...."

"Whoa," Jackie interrupted cautiously.  "Who's got the bad attitude?"

I stopped and stared at her, open-mouthed, for a moment.  "Me," I admitted softly when I'd recovered from the shock of her question.  "But I'm not the only one.  Ms. Seever was really nasty at me, like her attitude was my fault!"

"I bet you two spun each other up.  You were starting out frustrated about retaking English I, and I bet she picked up on that, so she pushed you a little bit because you had a bad attitude.  That only made your attitude worse, which in turn made her more upset.  Am I right?"

Damn, for a high-school sophomore, Jackie was pretty sharp.  "Yeah, I suppose."

"Just go along with their stupid little games and try not to let them get to you," Jackie advised further.  She halted on the sidewalk outside the classroom building.  "I hope you can make it from here to your room," she said cheerfully.  "I've got to run so I'm not late for _my_ class."  She gave me a quick hug and then walked off.

The hug made me feel a bit better.  No wonder girls can get so huggy.  I wondered how long it would be before I was a hugger all the time, too.  Probably not long, based on recent experiences with the art of the hug. I had to half-chuckle at a rather silly thought; there was an ancient Chinese book by Sun Tzu called "The Art of War'.  Perhaps there was a companion volume by his wife called "The Art of the Hug?"

The effects of the embrace wore off the moment a slush-ball hit my neck.  I flinched from the blow, and then shivered as the stinging-cold ice crystals and cold water began to slide down my neck into the back of my blouse.  I spun instinctively, looking to see who had thrown it at me, even as I tried to wipe the sloppy mess off my neck.

It could have been any one of dozens of students.  My usual tormenters, TK, Truck, Nitro, and Cagliostro, weren't in immediate sight, but that wasn't to say that one of them hadn't thrown it and ducked quickly out of sight.  TK even could have thrown it from further, using his telekinetic power to hurl the slushy mess at me.  Or, what was an even worse thought, the number of people who'd decided to make my life miserable had grown.

"Stay positive?" I asked myself.  "Yeah, right!  Like that's going to be easy."  With wet hair and wetness seeping into my blouse and coat, I walked the rest of the way to class, ignoring all the students around me who were chuckling after seeing me clocked with the slush-ball, and who were pointing at my wet clothing and hair.

The classroom for the Powers Theory class was small, because there weren't many students in this term.  Apparently, it was very much in demand in the fall terms, but only had one section in the spring.  I glanced around, and then sat in as out-of-the-way place as I could, because first, I didn't recognize anybody in the class and second, the way my day had gone so far, I didn't want to attract any undue attention.

Naturally, Murphy's Law was messing with me even here.  I had just opened my book when I saw a shadow loom over me.  I looked up, and saw a very large, ornery-looking kid scowling down at me.  "You're in my spot," he growled.

"Sorry," I muttered, quickly gathering up my things.  "I'm new, so I didn't realize ...."

"Why didn't you just wait until everyone was seated before stealing someone else's chair?" he snarled angrily right back at me.

I stood, torn between angry defiance and meekly slinking off.  When I looked up, and up, and even further up at the boy who was well over six and a half feet tall, I decided on the latter course of action. "Sorry," I muttered before slipping off.  I went back to the front of the room, glancing around nervously, hearing the titters and guffaws as students made fun of my faux pas.  I felt my anger growing at being the butt of the joke, and at feeling like an outsider - again.

"Is there a problem with the seating?"

I spun, and saw that the instructor, Dr. Quintain according to my schedule, was staring at me.  Gulp - another screw-up, and more unwanted attention and humiliation in front of my class.  Why the hell couldn’t I just fade into the woodwork for a class or two and be left alone?  "Er, I just started, and I wasn't sure what seats were taken."  The soft chuckles let me know how amusing others found my situation.

Dr. Quintain looked at me, and then down at the papers in his hand.  After shuffling through them a bit, he pulled one sheet out and read it.  "Ah, yes, I see.  You would be Kayda Franks, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"See me after class to make a catch-up plan for your work here."  Without another word, he walked to a desk in the front of the classroom, set down his papers, and walked to the board, starting his lecture and summarily dismissing me.

The only chairs open were, surprise, surprise, front-and-center.  I slid into one and organized my things, all while Dr. Quintain droned on with his lecture.

Fifth period Powers Theory was even more of a waste of my time than English had been.  Dr. Quintain might have been a great researcher and a powers expert, but as a lecturer, he sucked.  Really sucked.  NASA vacuum-chamber quantity of suck.  His delivery was monotone, with not the slightest inflection to arouse even a hint of interest in the students.  Half the time he spoke, he was addressing the board he was writing on, so the lecture came out as, "mumble mumble mumble pattern mumble mumble energizing mumble mumble mumble dimensions mumble...."  It only took a few minutes, though, to realize that he was essentially reciting the book word-for-word, so following along was suddenly easier.  Because my reading speed was so much improved, I read the day's topic in about fifteen minutes, and then was able to go back to the beginning of the book to start catching up.

Once class was over, and the threat of lecture-induced narcolepsy had faded, I walked to the front of the class while everyone else filed past me and out of the nap chamber.  "You want to talk to me, Dr. Quintain?" I asked, trying to not sound snippy or rude.

"Yes.  Miss Franks, is it?"  He looked at some notes in a loose-leaf binder.  "Yes, I see."  He looked back up.  "You have two weeks of lecture material to learn, and two quizzes to take.  Additionally, there is a chapter test on Friday, assuming you're prepared.  Per policy, I can give you one half day of grace period for every two days of class you missed."

I thought a moment about the lecture and the book from which the lectures came verbatim.  "Can I have a couple of days to see how I'm doing for catch-up?  I have nine classes that I'm behind on."

"Nine?"  Dr. Quintain expressed the closest thing to emotion that I'd seen since I first saw him.  "That's an unusually heavy course load."

I nodded.  "That's what Mrs. Hawkins gave me.  The worst part is that, even though I had been getting college credit in grad-school level math back home, she put me in Algebra 1.  And even though I'm technically a sophomore, she put me in English I."

Dr. Quintain seemed lost in thought, scratching his chin for a moment.  "Did you say grad-school level math?"  I nodded.  "By chance, do you have any experience with ten- and twelve-dimensional quasi-hyperbolic projections and isomorphic transformational maps to and from a lower-dimensional Lie space?"

I didn't understand exactly what he'd said, but I had a very good idea.  "Is that related higher-dimension hyper-geometric encryption theory?"

Dr. Quintain's eyebrows shot up.  "It's considerably more involved, but essentially, it's a very closely related problem.  The major challenge in pattern theory is to generate a set of independent basis functions and then try to find one or more isomorphic mapping function that are consistent with observed results in our four-dimensional space.  We're trying to decrypt the pattern mapping in a way that's consistent with our current power theories and mutation effects."  He looked at me for a moment.  "Do you have a work-study assignment yet?"

I shook my head.  "With nine courses, when would I have time for work-study?"

"Perhaps something should be done about that," Dr. Quintain said, stroking his chin absently as he stared off into space.

"I have to get to my next class."  I hurried out of the room so I wouldn't be late for the power theory lab.  Fortunately, it was just down the hall, so hopefully, no-one would think that I needed a babysitter to walk sixty feet.  As I walked out, I heard Dr. Quintain muttering to himself in a disgusted tone, "Algebra!  What a waste!"  I managed to smile that at least two faculty members recognized a gross error in my class schedule.  Perhaps he and Ms. Grimes would help me get things straightened out.  I could only hope.

I was the last person to enter the room for powers lab, and I winced at the 'stare of authority' I got from the teacher.  I scanned the room quickly, and then headed for an open seat.

"Ms. Franks?" the instructor, who my cheat-sheet had informed me was Mrs. Bohn, asked as I tried to slink unnoticed past her desk.

"Yes?"   I winced as I spoke, turning to face what I figured would be her incipient wrath.

"I have assigned you to work with Adalie Vitesse for this lab," she said.

There was a low groan in the back of the room, and I turned, already feeling dismay.  Whoever this Adalie was, and her name sounded French to me, she wasn't thrilled about having me as a lab partner.  Had she heard about me?  Had I already, in my first few days, earned a reputation that would make people _not_ want me as a lab partner?

"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly, before scurrying to an open seat near the girl who was face-palming at the prospect of having to deal with me for the rest of the term.  I sat down, glanced at her, and muttered under my breath, "Why me?"

Adalie Vitesse, Charge, wasn't a bad looking girl.  In fact, if I'd been a guy, I would have found her quite sexy.  Her dark hair hung a little below the nape of her neck, parted on the side and swept behind her ears.  Her features were classically French, with perfect lips, dainty nose, and eyes that could swallow a person's soul - at least, if that person were male and not blind.  And into girls.  But she had an expression of genuine scorn, which was difficult to decipher at whom it was directed.

"I'm Kayda," I whispered to introduce myself so I wouldn't cause a disturbance in the class, or at least not a bigger one than I'd already made.

"Oui," Adalie replied, sounding a bit snooty.  "I know."

"Pleased, and so on," I whispered before turning my attention to the instructor.  The 'rents had taught me to be polite, no matter how difficult or nasty the other person was.  All that training must have been preparation for dealing with Whateley and people like Adalie.  And Ms. Hartford.  And Mrs. Hawkins.  And ....

After a brief review of the past week's labs, Mrs. Bohn picked the topic of the week; we broke into small groups, and discussed creative ways to use the power being studied.  I was grateful that the power wasn't one of mine; it was speedsters, and it turned out that Adalie had that power.  Our assignment for the day - to find creative ways for speedsters to use their powers.

One of the guys in the team chuckled as he said, "You can simply run away from a fight."  He paused a moment, and then wrinkled his brow.  "Oh, wait.   You tried that and it didn't work out so well for you, did it?"  He guffawed, thinking he'd been so clever.

Adalie glared at him.  "Merde," she replied acerbically.  "If all you can do is to 'url insults, then per'aps you should keep your mouth shut."

I knew there was a story in that exchange, and that I'd find it sooner or later.

"Against a flier, you're in trouble," a girl observed.  "He can just stay out of reach."

I couldn't resist the temptation to speak up.  "Unless you use your speed to quickly get into a place with a low overhead.  The flier would lose the advantage of altitude if he pursued you."

Another guy picked up on my train of thought.  "I see.  Yes, that might work.  Without altitude, the flier might have maneuverability problems, which would give you the advantage with the speed."

The others talked about various types to battle.  Against ranged attacks, like energizers usually employed, all a speedster could do is duck and weave to avoid being hit, while either getting out of range or getting close enough that the attacker no longer had the edge.  Against mages or psychics, the options seemed more limited - get out of range, although a couple of creative ideas were proposed.

"If you were dealing with a powerful psychic who was listening in on your senses, what would happen if you ran really fast in a circle?  Could you maybe get them disorientated or dizzy by getting yourself dizzy?" the other girl in our group suggested.  It was an interesting concept.

We moved on to dealing with bricks, the supermen who were just plain hard to hurt.  No-one was getting any good ideas, until I, once again, opened my mouth.  "How about doing a snowspeeder on them?"

I got a lot of looks of, "Huh?" and, "What the hell are you talking about?"

I sighed heavily.  So much for common cultural background.  "The Empire Strikes Back?  When they use the tow cables to wrap up the legs of the Imperial walkers because they can't damage them any other way?"

The light bulbs went on instantly, except for Adalie, who had to mentally cross-reference the cultural ideas.

"Mon Dieu," she exclaimed after she'd worked the mental translation.  "But of course!  If their legs become tangled, then they cannot walk and will fall over, or at least give the speedster more time!  Merveilleuse idee!"

I honestly thought for a moment that she was going to do the French thing of kissing me on both cheeks.  Actually, given her looks, I don't know that I would have minded.  Of course, I didn't think Debra would like me kissing another girl.

The group discussed this idea, including possible pitfalls, for several more minutes before moving on.  All in all, the class was sort-of fun, but since my powers were magic-based, I didn't see that I was learning anything useful.

A few minutes before class was dismissed, as other groups were finishing their assignments, Adalie turned to me.  "Your English, it is very good, and you have almost no accent."

I'm sure the expression on my face said, 'what'chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?'  I asked for clarification.  "Pardon?  Why wouldn't I speak good English?"

"Are you not Indian?"

I raised my eyebrows.  "Yeah," I answered, "I'm Indian, but we ...."  The light flashed on.  "Oh, you mean from India, not American Indian!"  I chuckled.  "No, I'm not from the subcontinent.  I'm an American Indian, or Native American as we prefer."

Adalie's cheeks flushed red. "Oh, pardon!  I did not mean to be insulting."  At the same time, the look in her eyes changed, from what seemed to be grudging acceptance of me to disdain or even scorn.

"No biggie," I replied.  She didn't answer, but turned that cute little Gallic nose up just a trifle, enough to let me know what she thought of Americans.  All Americans.  Either that, or she was embarrassed about having mistaken me for someone from India because of my skin coloration.

Outside the lab, Elaine, Delta Spike, was waiting for me, easily recognizable in her standard devisor uniform, the Whateley lab coat.  I wondered how someone had managed to pry her from the devisor labs to take escort duty, because of the stories from the Sioux Falls League made it sound like devisors and gadgeteers had to be forcibly removed from their labs to perform basic functions like eating, sleeping, and sometimes, even using the bathroom.  Elaine looked like a classic devisor - long dark hair held up in an unflattering style, unattractive glasses, and the ever-present rumpled lab coat that was the staple of the Whateley labs.  I absently wondered for a moment what she'd look like if she let her hair down, lost the professorial specs, and shed the lab coat.  I imagined that she'd be pretty hot.

That thought was immediately interrupted by the cold water of reality.  I was thinking like a guy again, someone who would have really enjoyed ogling Elaine, but now I was a girl.  Confusion reared its ugly head once more.  Was I a full-fledged member of the sisterhood, a lesbian who was still driven by years of socialization to look at and think of girls as dating material and potential sexual partners, and thus looking at Elaine with attraction and, dare I say it, lust?  Or was I just going through a phase as my thought patterns and feelings transitioned to being fully female, and I would eventually find myself attracted to boys?  The latter thought filled me with terror, which wasn't surprising given the events I'd lived through.

Aw, to hell with the over-analyzing things.  At the moment, I was really into the female figure in all its splendor, so I might as well enjoy it.  If my preferences changed in the future, I'd deal with that then.  I stole more than a few sideways glances at her to more properly appreciate what she had to offer, even if it was hidden by her getup.

"How can you smile coming out of Powers Theory and Powers Lab?" Elaine asked, baffled by the slight grin I had.

"The lecture in Power Theory was awful," I admitted, carefully steering away from the subject, which was that my grin had been from staring at her, "but afterward, Dr. Quintain and I were talking, and I told him that I had been doing graduate level math.  Maybe, just maybe, he was impressed enough to help me get out of repeating algebra.  And the lab was kind of interesting."  I was not about to tell her that I was thinking of what she'd look like in the nude.

"Where are you going now?" Elaine asked.

"Intro electronics theory."

"I thought that was fourth period."

I shrugged.  "I'm having to do the independent study because my day classes are all full thanks to Mrs. Hawkins."

"Wow!  Seven classes a week?"

I shook my head resignedly.  "Plus an evening French class, and costume class on Saturday morning.  Total of nine classes."

"Someone must really hate you," Elaine said, grimacing.  We took an elevator down to the tunnels.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to get that feeling, too.  According to Jinn, it's probably Hartford, because Charlie Lodgeman was involved in getting my paperwork approved, and she doesn't like Mr. Lodgeman at all."

Elaine snorted derisively.  "She doesn't like _anyone_!"

"That's what I've heard."

"So, what are you going to do?"

I shrugged.  "Go to classes, and try to meet with Mrs. Hawkins again to see if she'll actually look at my transcripts and listen."

"You might want to have a talk with Zenith to see if there's anything she can do to help out," she suggested.

"That's what Ayla suggested this morning," I said reluctantly.  "But I already owe her a ton for just my first few days.  If I have to keep asking favors, I'll owe her my soul or something!"

Elaine chuckled loudly.  "Not Zenith.  She doesn't deal in souls.  But if Sara was our fixer, you might have to worry."

"Sara?"

"Yeah, Sara Waite.  She used to live in Poe, and hung out with the Kimbas.  She's a full-fledged demon."

"A ... demon?"  After what I'd dealt with already, the thought of a resident demon at Whateley made me more than a bit nervous.

"Yeah, a lust demon.  If _she_ was the fixer ...."

I laughed uneasily, like it was a joke, but inside, I was trembling.  I wondered what Wakan Tanka would think of the fact that there was a demon here.

"She is the Kellith," Wakan Tanka interrupted my thoughts.  "I sensed her when we first arrived on the school grounds."

"Who, or what, is the Kellith?"

"She is the daughter of Gothmog, the demon of lust and sex."

"Is ... is she a danger to me?" I asked nervously.  I wasn't relishing the sudden thought that I'd have to fight another demon.

"No.  Gothmog and the Kellith have always been neutral, and they are powerful enough that they cannot be corrupted by demons like Unhcegila and Kigatilik."

"Oh."  Something else came to mind.  "I thought you weren't going to intrude on my thoughts."

Wakan Tanka smiled.  "You _were_ wondering what I would think.  If you hadn't intended to call me to speak, then you should have been more careful in controlling your thoughts."  She sounded a trifle smug.

I snapped back from the dream-world to reality, and realized that only a second or so had passed.  Elaine hadn't even noticed my temporary absence.

"Who'd you get assigned as a lab partner in Powers Lab?"

"Some French girl.  Adalie something.  She goes by Charge."  I frowned.  "And Mrs. Bohn had the assignment on a paper that looked like school letterhead.  You don't suppose ...."

It was Elaine's turn to shrug.  "After a few terms here, Kayda, I quit believing in coincidences."

"What do you know about her?"

"Same as the rest of the Berets.  Hates America and Americans.  In Charge's case, it's worse than the others for some reason, but nobody knows why.  Not even Ayla, and Ayla is kind of an honorary Beret because the Goodkinds have a lot of business dealings in Europe.  Charge is also a non-violent, but without the paperwork, so she had to fight in the combat finals, and she got her ass handed to her.  It wasn't a pretty sight."

"Um, Debra, I mean Cornflower, told me about the combat finals."  I paused, thinking about what Elaine had said.  "Was Charge's combat final really that bad?"

"Even with some serious healing magic, she had to spend the night in the hospital.  Yeah, it was bad.  She got herself on the administration's shit list."  Elaine paused beside a door, one that looked like so many other doors they'd passed in the underground maze.  "Here's the electronics lab.  Have fun."  She paused, and I knew why.  "Are you ... one of us?" she blurted out.

My eyes bugged out and my mouth was agape at the question she was asking.   "Am I ... one of ...?"  So she was as blatant as Rosalyn, and was asking if I was a lesbian?

"A gadgeteer or devisor," Elaine added when she saw me looking confused.  "Because I heard that you do the magic thing."

I smiled.  "My MID lists me as a gadgeteer-4.  Yeah, I'm one of the lab-coat crew."  I could see Elaine's shock at the nickname.  "Debra and the rest of the Sioux Falls League told me lots of stories about Whateley, including about some of the organizations and groups.  So I know that the devisors and gadgeteers are sometimes called the 'lab-coat crew', or at least they used to be."

Independent study turned out to be a study-hall type of class in the lab, with Ms. Merenis supervising, while the other four students and I worked through the materials on our own.  Ms. Merenis was there as a resource for any questions relating to the course, and to grade the lab-work that was also done in the classroom.

When I first walked in, Ms. Merenis had expressed reservations about me being successful, since it was independent study, and I was starting the term late, and I had a very large class load.  To make matters worse, I was wearing a uniform and _no_ lab coat, unlike the other students. She wasn't sure that I belonged in the class.  When I explained that I'd been doing independent study in math for the past six years, and demonstrated knowledge of differential equations, she relaxed significantly.

Electronics was all straight-forward math.  Well, once the principles and formulas were known, it was all math.  Okay, so it wasn't all math.  By the end of the first class study session, I had completed the first three and a half days' worth of study and homework, and I was ready to do my first lab on characterizing a diode's I-V curve experimentally.  It would be a tedious process – measure voltage and current, plot the point, and increase the voltage by a small increment, repeating until the diode's breakdown voltage was reached.  Personally, I would have preferred to gather six to eight data points and do a curve fit, which I could probably do in my head, but I wasn't allowed that easier option.

While the electronics students were doing our classwork, every so often a student in a lab coat would peek in, look around, and then go to Ms. Merenis.  At one point, one of the class went to ask Ms. Merenis a question while a non-class student was talking with her about something devise-related.  She immediately switched mental gears, and the non-class devisor stepped back to allow the class student to speak with her.  Once that discussion was completed, the devisor resumed his very quiet but animated conversation.  I had to admire her for the way she multi-tasked, and the way the non-class students knew that they were lower priority than us electronics students.

When class was over, nobody from Poe was at the lab to provide the required escort.  I waited patiently, and noticed that Ms. Merenis was getting more and more impatient as time marched forward.  Finally, with a heavy sigh, she bluntly asked, "Are you going to leave the classroom?  I need to lock it up and get back to supervising my lab."

I flinched.  "Uh, I can't leave.  Not yet, anyway."

"Why not?"

"Um, security rules.  I have to have an escort, because I can't be left alone."

"Oh?  Is it something about your mutation?"

I lowered my gaze.  "No.  I'm on a ... suicide watch," I said softly, almost inaudibly.

"I see."  She sounded a lot more understanding at that.

"After I manifested, I ... had some very bad experiences.  Dr. Bellows says I have PTSD, so ...."

"Oh.  Okay.  I understand."  Thankfully, she didn't press the issue any further; I wasn't about to start telling anyone and everyone about the rape and beatings.  Even though she was a faculty member, news, discussions, and gossip among the teachers was occasionally overheard by other students.  At least it had been in my old school, and I'd seen nothing that convinced me that the same wouldn't be true here as well.

I turned my attention back to my class work, since I had an indeterminate wait ahead of me.  A few minutes later, a girl poked her head into the room.  "Kayda?" she asked.

Her face was a familiar one from upstairs in Poe but I didn't know her well.  She was short, with Oriental features and straight, blue-black hair.  She moved with cat-like grace, as if her entire body was a well-honed weapon.  "Yeah.  You're ... Cascade?"

The girl smiled and nodded.  "I'm your escort."

"Great."  I glanced up, and saw that Ms. Merenis nodded to me.  Grabbing my backpack, I quick-stepped out of the class, following Cascade into the tunnels.  "Can we hustle it?  I have a ton of homework to catch up, and I've got a late French class after dinner."

"Sure," Cascade said, and she started walking even quicker, causing me to trot to try catch up to her.

After several turns in the tunnels, which weren't familiar from the trip _to_ class, I paused.  "Are you sure this is the right way?"

Cascade turned to me, smiled ... and vanished!

I looked around myself, and when I didn't see her, I began to feel a strong sense of panic. Was this another ambush?  Were there attackers waiting around the corner?  What the hell was going on?  And not only was I now alone in the tunnels and vulnerable, but I was also was lost.

After several long moments of waiting for some type of ambush attack, I managed to calm myself enough to walk back to the classroom, but I wasn't quite certain of directions, and I took a few wrong turns.  By the time I found the electronics classroom, the door was shut and locked, and no-one was around.  "Damn!" I cursed.

For twenty-five minutes, I wandered around in the tunnels, trying one tunnel after another, and as my sense of desperation rose, my sense of direction faltered.  I'd find a dead-end, or a restricted lab, and turn around, only to feel like I had taken yet another wrong turn, because nothing looked familiar.  I found an elevator, but when I pressed the button to rise to a tunnel closer to the surface, the movement felt very disorientating, like the car was moving a different direction from what I'd expected.  I stumbled out of the elevator car feeling nauseated from motion sickness.  It was weird; I'd never gotten motion-sick before.

I heard something ahead of me, down a side tunnel, so with relief, I gratefully moved to the sound.  Surely someone could give me directions.

A big sign on the wall read, 'Restricted Lab Area - Clearance Required'.  Right next to the sign was a security officer, sitting on a stool, a book open in his lap.

"Can you give me directions to get back to Schuster?" I pleaded, halting a couple of feet from him.

He was on his feet, and his hand was lowered toward his sidearm, while he eyed me cautiously.  "Do you have clearance for this area?" he asked, his eyes narrowed into menacing slits.

"No, and I don't _want_ to get in here.  I got lost, and I just want to get directions back to Schuster Hall," I replied, emphasizing that I was merely looking for some assistance.

The slow motion of his hand toward his sidearm halted, but didn't reverse itself.  I briefly wondered what in the world was down in these restricted labs that would require an armed guard.  "Go back to the main tunnel, turn to your right, and then ...."  His eyes narrowed again.  "Hey, aren't you the Buffalo Gal?" he asked, frowning.

"My name is Kayda, not Buffalo Gal," I protested sternly, fighting my rising anger.  "And ...."

He nodded, his expression never changing.  "I thought so."   He reached for his radio.

**********

Kane Hall

"Honest, Chief," I protested strongly, feeling my emotional control starting to slip, "I was waiting in class, and then Cascade came to escort me back.  Then she vanished, and everything started to get really weird."

"We reviewed the footage from the security cameras.  None of the cameras show anyone with you.  Further, we received a report from Cascade that you were missing from your rendezvous point in the electronics lab."  The Chief was leaning forward, elbows on his desk and an intent expression on his face.

"I swear, Chief, I was following Cascade right up until she vanished!"  I was angry and confused, but not distraught.  Not yet, anyway.  I was trying my best to fight those damned tears that seemed to always come when I was dealing with security.

 Chief Delarose stared at me in silence for a few awkward moments, before lowering his forehead into his upturned palm, while shaking his head slowly back and forth, his gaze fixed on his desk.  "What am I going to do with you, Kayda?" he asked rhetorically.

One of the security officers poked her head into Delarose's office.  "We double-checked the security footage.  She was alone."

I glanced up, and recoiled from the woman's appearance.  Her face was heavily scarred, as if parts of it had been through a meat grinder, and one eye was covered with a patch.  Jagged, ugly lines broke up her features; I got the impression that, before whatever accident or assault had befallen her, she had been attractive.  I felt a stab of pity, which I think she recognized in my face, because her frown hardened as if to say, 'How dare you pity me!'

Delarose looked up at her for a moment.  "Thanks, McGraw."  He turned his gaze back to me as Officer McGraw withdrew from his office.  "Kayda, over the past few days, you've displayed a bad habit of ignoring restrictions and rules, and wandering off by yourself.  This morning, you left Fey and Phase in Kirby Hall instead of walking with them."

"Chief, honest!  I swear that Cascade came to get me!"

"If it's not showing up on the tape, then how do you explain it?"

"I don't know," I answered, starting to lose my composure.  "Some kind of magic or something?  Someone who could teleport away pretending to be her?"

"And somehow, the elevators took you down instead of up, so you were in the fourth level restricted biolab area?"

"I guess.  I don't really know how I ended up where I was."  Nervous didn't begin to describe how I felt.  This was more than a little scary.  "I was sure I was following Cascade, but somehow, I ... I don't know.  Maybe someone is trying to get me in trouble?"

"I hate to have to ask this again, Kayda," Delarose said, looking a bit embarrassed, "but would you consent to a psychic check to determine the veracity of your story?"

"Like I have any secrets from Fubar, as often as he's in my head."  I sighed heavily.  "Maybe I should start charging rent."

Louis Geintz appeared in a chair beside me, startling me, but not as much as the first time he'd appeared.  "I'm a lousy tenant," he said with a smile.

"Let's get this over with."

Chief Delarose pressed a button on his phone.  "Emily, can you come here for a few minutes?"  With Kayda in the Chief's office, Emily must have been waiting to be called in.

"I see you missed us," Emily said, winking at me.

I groaned.  "I'm trying to stay away, but stuff keeps happening."

Emily focused on Mr. Geintz.  "Another possible psychic incident?"

Louis shook his head.  "With Kayda's defenses against psychic attacks, it's doubtful.  Her story, however, indicates that _something_ unusual happened."

"Standard procedure to have a second witness,"
Delarose explained tersely.

In moments, Mr. Geintz had gone through my memories with me, replaying the entire event three times as he examined my thoughts and feelings.  It was just as disorientating on the replays as the original event had been.  The biggest problem, which I hadn't noted at the time, was that the walls, landmarks, and other features seemed to keep changing.  I'd go down a blind corridor, but when I returned to the intersection I'd left, it looked different, making it almost impossible for me to retrace my steps.

Mr. Geintz withdrew from my consciousness.  "Kayda _thought_ she was following Cascade.  She wasn't ignoring the rules.  There is no evidence of psychic tampering or memory alteration."

"Like Tatanka would permit that anyway," I added.

The wrinkles in Chief Delarose's forehead didn't lessen; if anything, they deepened.  "Okay, Kayda.  I've got enough information for the report.  And no," he added quickly when he noticed me stiffen in my seat, "you're not in trouble.  This time."  I rose with Emily, and we started out the door.  "Oh, and let Emily copy your MID for our records while you're here."

Chief Delarose gave me a smile when I left his office, but there was something behind that smile, some look in his eyes that bespoke some serious concern.  The hair on my neck seemed to be at attention, trying to give me warning that there was a lot more to this than some confusion.

It only took Emily a few moments to copy my MID, after which she escorted me back to Poe.  I got a lot of strange looks from the residents when she brought me there.

"What did you do this time, Kayda," Mrs. Horton asked as soon as Emily was out of earshot.  "Cascade reported that you were nowhere to be found after your class, and then security drags you in."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Horton," I said with a sigh, feeling exhausted.  "I _thought_ I was following Cascade back here."  I quickly recounted the tale to her.  "And then Emily brought me here."

She just shook her head.  "You seem to be a magnet for trouble.  Try not to worry us – at least for the rest of the day?" she teased.

"I'll try," I replied, feeling a little ashamed of the trouble I was causing her.  I trudged upstairs to my room, and sat down, pulling out my books.  Despite a little misadventure, I still had homework to do - two weeks of catch-up in all my classes.  Plus there was the crap with my schedule.  At least I didn't have to worry about Algebra I or English, even if being in those classes was insulting.

I was emotionally exhausted, and a bit tired physically as well.  Wandering around the tunnels, feeling more frantic by the minute, burned a lot of mental and emotional energy.  Yawning, I opened my Powers Theory book to start the laborious process of catching up.

**********

Kane Hall

Chief Delarose:

"Okay, Foob," Delarose continued once the door had shut behind Kayda and Emily, "what's on your mind?"

"What makes you think that there's something on my mind?"

Delarose shook his head.  "Enough games, Foob.  I've had a long day."

"Okay, Chief," Louis Geintz said.  "If there was psychic influence, it was very, very subtle, at a level that Tatanka and I couldn't detect it.  The only other possibility is a series of illusions cast by a very skilled magic user."

"Which one do you think it was?"

"Both."

The Chief's eyes widened in surprise.  "Both?"

Louis nodded grimly.  "She didn't realize it, but when I searched her memories, I saw that each time she went through an intersection or junction in the tunnels, it was slightly different, so it would disorient her.  Someone was trying to get her away from her escort and get her lost."

Delarose frowned.  "Why?"

"I don't know.  There are two possibilities that I'm worried about.  First, and the less serious, is that someone or something really wants to get Kayda out of here, and by getting her in trouble with security and with the administration, she'll be expelled."

"Why? She's no threat to anyone here."

"No, but she has two very important Native American spirits.  Some might fear her, because her presence might upset tribal politics and shamans.  Some might want to control her, to get her to the reservation and under their thumb."

"And the general bullying?  Is that tied in?"

"I'm not sure.  It might be normal hazing, but it might be part of the intimidation, too."  He shook his head, even though it wasn't necessary.  "I can't tell."

"And the second possibility?"  Chief Delarose sounded worried about having to ask a question to which he was certain he already knew the answer.

"Did you read the reports from her trip here?  The psychic attack by the snake demon was by a high-level Native American demon, and it was intended to be fatal.  The attack by the water panther, the Mishibijiw, was also intended to be fatal."

"Yes, I read them.  And you think the deception could have been intended to isolate Kayda to kill her?"

Fubar nodded.  "It is possible."

Delarose let his head droop as he shook it side-to-side slowly.  "Great.  So we've got a student who has issues with authority figures, who my security team actively dislikes because of her buffalo, who is on a suicide watch but tends to run off by herself, and who someone or something is either trying to push out of Whateley, or kill her, or both, is that it?"  He shook his head again.  "I thought _I_ had it rough as a teenager.  Damn.  So what do we do, besides file a report with Carson?"

"There's not much we can do, except to watch for any signs of psychic influence on her.  I’ll have a talk with Dr. Bellows, too.  Until we have some answers, I don't want him taking her off suicide watch even if he thinks she can handle it, because that would make her more vulnerable if she moves about campus alone."

END of Chapter 1

Monday, March 19, 2007, late afternoon

Poe Cottage

Kayda:

Clouds roiled in the sky, blotting out the sun and casting the landscape into darkened shadows, while the same wind that stirred the cauldron of gray overhead blew hard on the ground, scattering lifeless and dried leaves from the few trees near a small river. I braced myself against the cool breeze, turning my face to the side to avoid at least part of the chilling wind, and stepped cautiously down the path toward the banks of the river. For some reason, it seemed important that I come to this spot.

"Wakan Tanka!" I cried, but my mentor didn't appear. "Wakan Tanka!"

Cautiously, I walked along the bank of the river, my eyes peeled for anything unusual. I felt the spirit of the air moving, disturbed and angry, but the earth spirit was calm, only telling me of my own presence. Nearby, the water spirit was silent, offering not a clue as to its presence.

"Tatanka!" I called out, but the white bison didn't answer, nor did he appear.

Something disturbed the water spirit, something that I wasn't familiar with, and I turned to the river in time to see a part of the wind-rippled surface explode in a boiling frenzy. I stood, enraptured by the strange spectacle, while something began to emerge from the bubbling waters.

I backed up in horror when I saw the creature clawing its way from the deep, its black, panther-like claws tearing at the water surface, while its eyes focused intently on me. The cat-like face snarled, baring its sharp teeth. Behind the creature's head, a body slowly emerged, a sleek, wet black fur-covered body with a row of reptilian spines down its back. Behind the body, something flicked hard, disturbing the water from below, and the scaly, snake-like tail with its copper-covered daggers momentarily broke the surface as it swished powerfully back and forth, helping propel the creature through the once-peaceful water.

I began to back from the water's edge, my eyes riveted on the monstrous spectacle coming slowly through the water toward me. I knew from experience that it could move much faster than it was currently moving; it seemed to be silently stalking me, even though I was staring right at it.

The creature's eyes, never wavering from me, burned with the fire of an insane rage, while it hissed as the roiling of the river's surface stopped and the creature began to glide through the suddenly-still water, making a noise something between a low cat's growl and the hissing of a serpent.

"Wakan Tanka!" I cried again, but still my mentor didn't answer, nor did Tatanka when I summoned him. Still focusing on the Mishibijiw coming toward me, I reached for my knife, Wakan Mila, but when I came up empty-handed, I panicked and looked down. Even the sheath of my magic knife was missing from my belt.

"Tatanka!" I cried again, more desperately this time.

The Mishibijiw began to stalk gracefully up the bank of the river, still staring intently at me. My backward steps became quicker, until I turned to bolt from the scene, only to freeze at the sight confronting me.

A second Mishibijiw stood in the path I'd trod only moments before, and as I watched, horror-stricken, it split into two water panthers, who separated to either side of the patht. With the one that had come out of the water, I was neatly trapped in the center of a triangle.

"Mishibijiw," I cried as I turned around in a circle, looking at all three creatures as they slunk closer and closer, "I am not your enemy!"

"You killed our brother," the wet Mishibijiw closest to the river hissed.

"No!" I cried out, still slowly turning. "Something touched it, and made it evil and insane!"

"You killed our brother," the three cats hissed in unison.

"Tatanka! Help!" I cried again desperately, to no avail.

As the cats neared, I cast my shield spell, because I knew how quickly they could move, and I couldn't see all of them at once. The shield was just in time, as one of the tails smashed into the shield, sending me flying to bounce off the trunk of a large tree. Dazed, I looked to run, but the Mishibijiw had moved, keeping me centered in their trap. Again, a tail lashed out, and I tried to dodge it, but it was too quick, and I was dashed against an outcropping of rock. My magic shield took most of the blow, but I felt some come through to my back.

"Tatanka! Help!" I cried once more, knowing that I was powerless against three of the water panthers without help. Still, my companion spirit didn't answer, nor did he appear.

The three cats closed in on me slowly, in perfect unison. "You killed our brother!" the all hissed.

"No," I protested, trying frantically to reason with the killers. "The spawn of Unhcegila drove it insane, until it attacked me without reason!"

"It was YOU who killed our brother! And now you will pay for that transgression!" The cats continued to close on me, easily moving to cut me off when I tried to dash through a gap between two of them. I got the impression that they were toying with me like a cat plays with a mouse - and I was cast in the role of the mouse.

I bolted upright from where my head was resting on an open book, sweating heavily and looking around to reorient myself. Frantic gasping for breath slowed as reality came back to me. I was sitting at my desk in my room in Poe Cottage. I'd been studying, and had been quite exhausted. I must have fallen asleep, which meant that my experience was probably a nightmare.

But why? Why a battle with Mishibijiw, and why wouldn't my spirits help me?

I breathed a sigh of relief when I felt Ptesanwi's spirit in me, but then I panicked when I couldn't sense Tatanka's. Why was my buffalo spirit gone, and to where?

A scream in the hallway disrupted my thinking, muffled as it was by my closed door. Scrambling, I yanked the door open, just in time to see Sharisha and Vox tearing down the hall, still screaming, pursued by Tatanka.

"Beltane!" Vox screamed aloud as she ran.

I ducked back into my room, closing the door behind me, and calling to Tatanka to return. Instantly, I felt his spirit back inside me. I was curious to look in the hallway, to see what Tatanka had done, but I chickened out, returning instead to my desk to hide myself in my school work. As long as some of the girls thought it was Beltane pranking them again, I was temporarily safe from retribution or anger. Temporarily. Eventually, everyone would talk, exchange notes that it was _my_ buffalo because some of the girls knew about Tatanka, and then I'd be in trouble - either with my cottage-mates, or worse, with security and the administration for not controlling my manifested Tatanka. But I knew I had to ask what Tatanka had done, and why.

The breeze gently brushed my skin, and the sun's rays warmed my cheeks as I stood in the mountain meadow. "Tatanka!" I called to him.

The big white bison lumbered slowly out of the trees, shambling my way. It was almost as if he sensed that I was a little unhappy. "Yes, Wihakayda?" he asked as he approached me.

"I have a question." I sat down, gesturing for him to lie beside me. "When I woke from my nap, you were manifested. Why?"

Tatanka looked at me. "I sensed danger, and I came to the real world to protect you."

"I was having a nightmare!" I told the white bison. "It wasn't real!'

The bison lowered his head, looking ashamed. "I couldn't tell." Then he looked defiantly at me. "I couldn't take a chance, so I came to protect you."

"What did you do?"

"I chased off the Mishibijiw."

"They weren't real! It was a nightmare!" Oh crap, I was really in trouble with this - if my dreams and nightmares caused Tatanka to manifest.

"They were real to your mind," Tatanka replied. "I had my duty to protect you."

I gasped in surprise. "Those were my cottage-mates!" I buried my face in my hands. "Oh, crap! How am I going explain _this_ one? I'm gonna be in _deep_ trouble!"

**********

Crystal Hall

"You are awfully quiet this evening," Vasiliy noted between bites, staring at me with his lava-colored eyes.

"Long day," I acknowledged tersely. "And it's not over."

"Oh?" Adrian asked just before he shoved the last bite of a burger in his mouth.

"Yeah. I've got an evening French class for my language requirement," I groaned.

"They give you four years to get two years of language. Aren't they pushing you a little hard?" Laurie asked the obvious question.

"That's what I said, but Mrs. Hawkins wouldn't budget, and I can't get an appointment with the administration until Wednesday at the earliest," I added bitterly. "And it's three, since technically, I'm a sophomore - if I can ever get anyone to actually look at my transcripts! I swear they're trying to push me out of this place."

"Don't let the bastards win," Evvie replied, trying to encourage me.

"Yeah," Naomi added. "There are too many of us students to keep track of individually."

"Except the ones who have problems with security every single day," I countered with a scowl.

"Don't try to do everything in one day," Laurie advised, trying to keep me looking at things more positively. "How long did they give you to get caught up?"

"A week."

"There you go! Use that time. Don't try to kill yourself trying to do it sooner."

"But you don't understand!" I protested with a sigh, shaking my head slowly as I fought fatigue and a bit of homesickness. "I'm ... I feel like an idiot in my classes. I'm so far behind, and all the other students look at me like I'm stupid when I have to ask a question over stuff they've already covered!" Words alone couldn't express my frustration. I'd been the smart one in all my classes up to that point. Now, I felt below average. It really hit at my sense of self-worth.

"You know you're not dumb," Evvie countered sharply.

"What's worse is that there are so many cool classes I'd like to take, but I'm stuck wasting my time with repeats of what I did last year! What the hell was I thinking?" I moaned softly. "I should have never come here!"

Evvie and Naomi exchanged glances. "Okay, Kayda," Evvie said in a motherly tone, "what happened?"

I knew they'd figure out something was wrong, sooner or later. "I almost got in trouble with security again. Somebody used an illusion or something to make me think I was following Cascade back from electronics class, and I ended up alone and lost in the tunnels."

Evvie's and Naomi's eyes widened at her revelation. "So ... then what?"

"I managed to find a security guard at some restricted lab, and when he recognized me, he called for backup. They sent four armed guards to take me back to Kane to meet with Chief Delarose. Four!" I looked down, embarrassed by how I'd been treated like I was a serious threat.

"Security does everything in teams of two or four. It's standard operating procedure," Laurie said to soothe my embarrassment. She knew, somehow, that the presence of four officers had made me feel like a criminal, like security viewed me as a dangerous trouble-maker where significant force might be required, which they probably did.

"Chief Delarose read me the riot act about being alone and violating my restrictions, but after Mr. Geintz did his psychic voodoo, they must have realized that I was telling the truth, because I didn't get in trouble, and they had Emily escort me back to Poe." I leaned my head into my hands, my thumbs and my interlaced fingers forming a triangle to cradle my face. "This was all a big mistake," I said again, shaking my head slowly. "Security doesn't trust me, Mrs. Carson doesn't trust me, Dr. Bellows doesn't ...." I lifted my head suddenly, my mouth agape and a completely shocked expression on my face. "Oh, crap!" I exclaimed sharply. "I missed my appointment!"

"Appointment?"

"With Dr. Bellows!" I cried, leaping to my feet, instantly despairing the consequences that I'd been warned of if I missed my appointments. "They're going to kick me out now! Oh, shit, shit, shit!" I dashed from the cafeteria, panic-stricken. Maybe, just maybe, he was working late in his office, and I could get my daily meeting before I got in even more trouble. Maybe. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing I could hope for.

Laurie caught up to me as I stood waiting anxiously at the elevator, staring at the closed doors and muttering oaths at them to speed up. "Kayda, what's wrong?"

"I _have_ to meet with Dr. Bellows! It's one of the conditions they set up. If I don't see him every day, they're going to kick me out!" The elevator door slowly opened as the chime sounded, unnecessarily alerting me that a car was there.

"Kayda, you're not making any sense. Who's going to kick you out, and for what?" Laurie got in the elevator with me as I frantically pushed the button for his floor, and then with equal vigor pushed the 'door close' button, as if the urgency I felt could be communicated to the controls and somehow make the elevator move faster.

I didn't answer; I'd already told Laurie too much. Instead, I just looked down, avoiding her concerned look. When the elevator stopped and the door opened, I rushed out and down the hall to Dr. Bellows' office.

"Kayda, what's going on?" Laurie called out after me as I ran through the corridor.

As I'd feared, the door was closed and the lights were off. I tugged once at the door futilely, as if my wishing it to open would make it magically open and Dr. Bellows magically appear. I turned, my back to the door, and slowly sank down to the floor, my heart sinking with it. I started to cry, burying my face in my hands as I wept aloud. "I'm so screwed!" I cried.

Laurie stooped down beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. "It'll be okay, Kayda," she offered. "I'm sure they're used to students missing appointments."

"You don't understand," I stammered. "I'm .... I'm on a ... special ... program, kind of ... probation."

"For what? You aren't a criminal, are you? Did you do something bad before you came here?" Laurie's voice was suddenly tinged with a bit of doubt and fear, not knowing why I'd used the term probation.

"No," I managed to blubber. "Oh, God! I'm so screwed! They're going to move me to Hawthorne, or kick me out now!"

"Wait a sec. A few minutes ago, you were complaining that you _should_ go home. Now you're afraid they're going to kick you out? You're not making any sense."

I couldn't even laugh at the absurdity of my oxymoronic comments. I was in real deep yogurt. "I ... I don't know what I want!" I cried. "I lost everything. Everything! Debra promised me that this place would be different, that I'd like it here. But even that's a lie! I don't have anything anymore!"

"It can't be that bad," Laurie tried to reassure me, unsuccessfully.

"When I manifested, I got driven out of my hometown. My friends, my school, my family, my home and hobbies - everything! My old friends tried to kill me! And ...." I couldn't go on, but instead started bawling into my hands and wondering if the brutal memories would ever stop so that I'd feel like a normal person.

I didn't have to. Laurie figured out what I meant in milliseconds. "Oh, Kayda!" she said as she sat beside me and clutched me to her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Dr. Bellows and ... and ... Louis Geintz said that I ... I ... I have some stress trauma thing, and ... and ... when the memories of ... that night came back to me, I ... had a bad panic attack." Laurie didn't say anything, but just held me tight and let me cry. "They put me ... in the hospital for a while, and now ... now they're afraid that I won't ... be able to handle the stress and ... and memories. That's why Dr. Bellows put me on ... on a suicide watch," I confessed. "That's why I'm ... supposed to meet him every day. That's why I have to have an escort all the time." I straightened myself and wiped at my tear-streaked face. "Now they're going to ... they're going to kick me out because ... I missed the meeting today ... and they don't trust me and ...."

"No, they won't, Kayda. Not for missing one appointment."

"You don't get it, do you? I've had some kind of security thing ... every day since I got here ... and the administration and security don't ... don't like me." I let my forehead tilt forward to rest on my arms atop my knees. "All I do is piss people off." I exhaled heavily and slowly. "Go back and finish your dinner. Adrian is probably worried about you."

"I can't leave ..."

"It doesn't fucking matter anymore. Don't you get it? It doesn't fucking matter! Security will be by sooner or later. Just ... go!" I'd driven myself right back into my deep funk, and I wanted to wallow in my misery. I was angry - mostly at myself for being so stupid as to miss my appointment, and I'd managed to convince myself that the world sucked, no-one else cared, and somehow, I deserved the crap that I'd had dumped on me.

"No," Laurie replied firmly. "I'm not going to go. I'm not going to let you get in trouble with security just because you've had a bad day." She stood up, grasped my arm, and tugged to pull me up. "C'mon. Get up. We're going to get you cleaned up, and then we're going back to the caf so you can finish your dinner."

"But," I stammered as I grudgingly cooperated, "what will everyone think?" There was nothing that I _could_ do except what Laurie said.

"No one else will give a shit," Laurie chided me. "Everyone has his or her own problems without spending all their time worrying about you. They won't notice. Now get your head on straight, and we're going to pretend that nothing happened at all when we go back. Okay?" When I didn't answer, or even make a motion, she put her hands on my cheeks and turned me so I was looking at her eye-to-eye. "Okay?"

I nodded slowly, not sure that I believed her. "Okay."

**********

Laurie was right; almost no-one noticed when I came back into Crystal Hall, even after a delay for her to help me clean up, wait for a little of the redness and puffiness in my eyes to fade, and redo my makeup. She was also right to call me on giving mixed signals. Did I really wish I hadn't come to Whateley, or did I really hope I didn't get kicked out or in more trouble? It couldn't be both, but I didn't know which it was.

Back in our room, Evvie and I talked at length about that very dichotomy, with Naomi silently cuddled with Evvie. Even that troubled me; if I was in Sioux Falls, I could be cuddled with Debra, and at that moment, her warm embrace and comfort was what I most needed. What did I really want? To be honest, I didn't know exactly, except some sense of normalcy and stability, which, so far, Whateley had given me none of. In fact, I hadn't had any sense of normalcy since the day I manifested - how long ago was that? It seemed like a lifetime.

Part of what bothered me was that I really missed my family, and I desperately longed to be with Debra. In the preceding three weeks, the only time I'd felt anything approaching any sense of self-worth had been when I was with her. I desperately missed her warm, accepting, loving hugs. Past the emotions, though, I knew that it would be dangerous for me to go home to my family, so I needed to feel welcome here at the special school for mutants. So far, though, Whateley had let me down on that count. The school had between five and six times as many students as my old school, so I felt a bit overwhelmed. There were some nice people I'd met and friendships were starting to form, but I still felt like I was an outsider. Never in my life had I lagged in classes; in fact, most of my life, my work was done a week or two ahead! At Whateley, though, at that moment, I felt like I was over my head, with both the class load and being so far behind. Lots of kids had awesome powers, so I felt like an underdog. I was a changeling, so I felt out-of-place with girls who'd been born as girls. I felt like I didn't belong anywhere.

The part that Evvie couldn't understand, though, was how I felt about the classes, because she was from a large city with well-funded schools and a broad diversity of offered courses. When I'd looked through the non-public website for information about Whateley, I found a veritable smorgasbord of very interesting classes, like advanced micro-machining, genetics, and dozens of other subjects that my old school would _never_ have had the resources to offer. It was like putting a gourmet spread in front of a hungry man, and then telling him he could only have bread and water. All of those fun classes had prerequisites, which I couldn't take because I was locked into a stupid schedule with classes I didn't need. The jewel of new knowledge was just beyond my fingertips, and it hurt to feel like the wonderful opportunities were being kept from me.

I had to interrupt my 'therapy session' with Evvie, Naomi, and Laurie to run to French class, and when that was over, it was late enough, and I was emotionally exhausted enough, that I decided to get ready for bed. As I was brushing my teeth, I could see two girls in the shower, using the 'special feature'. One of them finished about the time I was done at the sink, and she practically oozed out of the shower, her eyes distant and unfocused, her legs a little wobbly, and she was grinning broadly. "Hi, Kayda," she greeted me, almost purring, a silly, contented smile stuck on her face.

For a moment, I wondered if using that 'special feature' would help me relax from my self-induced stress, but then I caught myself entertaining those thoughts, and I banished them from my head with extreme prejudice, terrified of what I realized I was thinking. Using _that_ feature would be admitting that I was sexually, completely a girl.

Then I thought of Debra, of some of the things we'd done while cuddling in my dream-world. Was that so different? I'd masturbated as a guy, but not as a girl. I'd had sex as a guy, too, but never in the real-world as a girl. I strolled to my room, absently thinking of the way I'd felt, at least in dream space, when Debra and I had been together, and comparing it to what I'd seen in the showers moments ago. Would it be so different, I asked myself. Would it be so awful?

I realized that I had to do _something_ to relax, because I was getting overstressed. Laurie could see it, Evvie could see it, Naomi could see it - probably even people I didn't know could see how wound up I was.

Shit. What should I do? I figured that using the shower would be a great release, but I was terrified of doing anything that would reek of me admitting that I was a girl, fully, sexually, and completely. I was afraid that I might like it too much, or that I'd forget what I had been. I wasn't sure, despite what Wakan Tanka thought about me accepting being a girl. Parts of the change were okay, but the unknown parts were still extremely intimidating and frightening.

"You look like you're still pretty tense," Evvie noted as I put my toiletries up. "Why don't you go take a shower? I find that a nice warm ... shower ... really helps my troubles melt away."

Fate? It didn't seem to be coincidental that there were so many nudges toward doing something that I'd avoided like the plague. "Uh, no," I begged off. "I'm tired."

Evvie shook her head with a little smile. "Then why do I get the feeling that you're highly embarrassed? Unless ...." She goggled at me. "You _were_ thinking of taking a shower!"

"No, I wasn't!" I protested strongly.

"Yeah, right. If you weren't, then why are you blushing?"

"Please leave me alone." I suddenly felt like crying again, humiliated at being caught thinking of using the Hydroflux.

Evvie sensed my distress, and instead of continuing her teasing, she leaped up and hugged me. "I'm sorry. I just ... can't imagine what it's like for you. If you'd have been born a girl, you would have tried already. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Evvie, I'm scared," I confessed softly as she continued to hug me.

"Of what?"

"That ... that ... I don't know _what_ I am anymore. I'm afraid of trying."

Evvie pushed me down on my bed and sat beside me. "Have you and Debra ... you know?"

I shook my head. "No. Age difference. If we got caught, she could go to prison since I'm not sixteen yet." I thought a moment. "But once I turn sixteen, we could, since she's less than three years older than me ...."

"How about in your dreams?" I didn't have to answer; she read my blush. "Do you want to, when you turn sixteen?" I nodded hesitantly. "Okay, what if you think of it as learning what makes a girl feel really, really good, so you can surprise her when it's time?"

I pulled back a bit and stared at her. "But ...."

"But if you're not ready to try, then don't let me push you. Don't let _anyone_ push you. You'll do it when _you're_ ready, not when someone tells you that you should. Okay?"

I just nodded, not trusting myself to answer, because the subject was more embarrassing than I felt ready to deal with at that moment.

"Now, put on your robe and go take a nice warm _regular_ shower. Let the shower massage some of the tension out of your shoulders and neck. You've had a pretty tough day, so loosen up a bit before you go to bed. You'll sleep better."

I let her guide me up, into my robe, and back into the bathroom. The shower stalls were all empty, so I hung up my robe and turned the water on. I had to admit that Evvie was right; the massage shower-head felt good as the pulsating jets of warm water kneaded the knots and stress right out of my back and shoulders. And since it was evening, I didn't have to rush to take a shower, but could relax and enjoy the water massage.

**********

Evvie grinned at me when I wobbled into our room and collapsed on my bed, because my legs didn't seem to want to hold me up. "Good shower?" she asked with a hint of mischief in her voice.

I nodded weakly, my cheeks flushed. "Yeah."

"Did you enjoy ... _it_?" Evvie asked, grinning.

She knew. My pink cheeks turned scarlet, and I chose not to answer her.

"Next time," Evvie continued, smirking, "remember to turn on the sound cancellation system."

My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets, as my cheeks turned redder than boiled lobsters. "Uh," I stammered, "I ... uh ... didn't ...."

Evvie chuckled. "You were so pre-occupied - and enjoying it - that you probably didn't see or hear Fey go in the bathroom to turn the system on, did you?"

"Er, no," I admitted sheepishly. "I ... I didn't mean to!" I suddenly said, defensively. "I ... I just ... got curious. And what you said, er, about surprising Debra because I would know what to do ..." I turned my blushing face away from my roommate, feeling totally ashamed at what I'd done and the knowledge that others on the floor knew as well, because I'd made too much noise.

"Hey," Evvie said, moving to my bed and stroking my cheek gently. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's part of female sexuality."

"But ... it's not part of me! Or at least, it wasn't! It's not supposed to be like this," I said softly. I was way too relaxed to start crying again, even though I was so confused. Why had I done what I'd done? I was plenty relaxed from the warm massage on my shoulders and back. Why had I gone the extra mile and tried out the full features of the Hydroflux hardware?

Evvie smiled. "You've got a lot of adjusting to do. This is one part of the lessons of being a girl." The smile grew. "One of the more pleasant lessons."

**********

Debra pulled me so close it felt like she wanted us to share the same physical space. "That was ..." She exhaled softly, a purr of contentment and a sigh of pure pleasure escaping her perfect, kissable lips. "That was wonderful!" She kissed me passionately and furiously. "God!" she mouthed when she finished the kiss, "when did you learn to do that?"

I kissed her. "I ... picked up a trick or two."

"Or seven!" she giggled. She rolled over, snuggling into my lap and my chest, my boobs pressed against her back, as she purred more.

I pulled her close to me, letting my arm drape over her body so my hand could caress her wonderful breasts, while my lips attacked her neck and earlobes. "Something I picked up this evening in Poe."

I felt her body stiffen. "Did you ... you know?" she asked hesitantly, and in her words, tone, and body posture, she inadvertently told me that she was jealous.

I wondered for a second or two, and then I realized what she was asking. "No, it wasn't with someone else," I reassured her. "The girls' bathroom on the second floor of Poe has a couple of ... hardware upgrades that you'd have to experience to believe."

Debra settled back into my, her body relaxing again. "So it wasn't someone else?"

"There's no one else for me but you," I assured her, resuming kissing her neck. We cuddled for a while, until I heard her soft, rhythmic breathing as she slept. I was content to hold her close. As much as I'd done for her, she'd done for me. It was ... different this time. While we'd been intimate before - at least in the dream-world, it had never been like this. Instead, things seemed to have been derived from my memories, and the only sexual experiences I'd had were as a guy. Had my mind shaped my expectations based on that? It seemed likely, since now that I'd had several orgasms using the Hydroflux, relishing in the differences from the old, male me, that my dream-world experience with Debra was much more like what I'd done in the shower, and what I did to her was guided by my real-world experience with the Hydroflux.

I woke from my sleep-within-the-dream, startled by something. Sitting up gently, so as to not awaken Debra, I touched the earth spirit and the sky spirit. There was someone coming toward the camp, someone who made barely a ripple in the spirits, but still enough that I had been disturbed. I slipped gently from under the buffalo-skin blanket and pulled on my buckskin dress.

From the hill, a figure descended slowly toward the camp, walking almost regally, her steps in almost perfect harmony with the nature surrounding her. The gentle night-time breeze rustled her long hair, which I knew without having seen her was bright red in color. The woman saw me watching her, but she continued until she was at the edge of the camp.

"Greetings, Aunghadhail," I said to the Sidhe queen as she paused, waiting to be invited into the encampment.

"Greetings, Ptesanwi," she replied. "Or is it just you tonight, Kayda?"

The figure of Wakan Tanka sidled up beside me. "We are here, Queen." I felt her pull herself into me, until we were joined as Ptesanwi.

"May I enter your camp?"

"Why have you come?" we asked. She had violated many of our traditions and laws to join our dream-world without invitation. It was an incredibly rude display of power and arrogance.

"I was curious," she replied. "Your appearance here among the People is a surprise."

"And yours isn't, Queen whose race went extinct countless millennia ago?"

"We are not enemies," Aunghadhail said cautiously, repeating the words we'd spoken to her only days before.

"But you are more out of place than we are," we countered. We could see that she was becoming impatient standing outside the camp. "Come. Join me at the fire circle." With that invitation, she was allowed to penetrate the last ward of our dream-world, the last defensive line that prevented outside intrusion without invitation.

Together, we sat by the fire. As she watched, I brewed up an herbal tea, and then offered her a cup. Together, we silently drank the pleasant blend of flavors in a greeting and peace ritual, even though I was suspicious at her intrusion.

"You have never been invited to our dream-space. Why did you come, and how were you able to get into our private space?" We were confused; there were many layers of protection for a shaman, and more for Ptesanwi, to protect our private dream-space from those who might use it to harm us. Once we had invited someone in, they could return, unless we took action to block their further incursions, which was how Mr. Lodgeman had dream-walked with me in the hospital - he'd been invited in once before in Sioux Falls. I shuddered to think what would have happened to me if he hadn't been able to get in to my dream-world while I was in Doyle. I might still be there, trussed up and sedated.

"I was drawn to your dream-world as the girl Nikki slept. I ... sensed you in your dream world."

"Why have you come?" we repeated.

"The era of the white buffalo calf has not ended. It is not your time to return. Why have you come?" Aunghadhail sounded suspicious, and cautious.

"I could ask the same of you."

"As my soul drifted, I saw the coming of the black buffalo calf. I saw the coming of the yellow and red buffalo calves. Each age was at its completion when you came to your people before. Now, you come early, before the age is completed."

"Our people need us," we said simply. "Beyond that is not for us to know, and if we knew, it is not ours to discuss."

Aunghadhail glared at us for a moment, but then she sat back and glanced skyward. "It is peaceful and pristine here," she observed, changing the subject. "It is not like that in the real world. Nature is not in balance as it once was."

"Walk with us," we said, standing suddenly. Together, we walked up the hill, until we could see the land stretching out before us, the wide-open prairies stretching beyond the river which lay just beyond the village. "Nature must be balanced," we said simply, as if stating an obvious truth.

"Are you here to balance it? Do you think this is the time of Ptesanwi?"

"This is the time for Kayda, and we are here to help her."

"To help her do what?" the Sidhe queen demanded.

"To save the People from dangers, if necessary, in order to prepare for the eventual fulfillment of the prophecy. To bring peace and prosperity to the People when the time is right."

Aunghadhail wasn't satisfied. "It is not the time of the prophecy."

"You are not our time-keeper, Queen of the West, Daughter of the Burning Oak. We come when _we_ determine it is time. And just as you are curious as to why we are here now, we wonder why _you_ are here. Why have the Sidhe returned?"

"I will find out why you are here now. Do you not realize that, together, we can more easily restore balance?"

"Do you share the same view of balance in the world as the Handmaiden? Do you intend to ask her to help with your balance? Or just us?"

Aunghadhail started when she realized that we knew of the Handmaiden of the Tao. "She serves a force greater than the universe. She does not share the Sidhe view of the world. You know that. My view of the balance is good for both of us."

"Not if balance means restoring the Five Courts, and relegating the People to a servile role, as you once believed was the People's proper place." We looked at the sky. "It is late. You should return to your own dream world." The suggestion that she leave our dream space was hardly subtle.

Aunghadhail nodded, and then with regal airs, strode down the other side of the hill, away from our camp.

"And do not seek to come unbidden into our dream-world again, Sidhe," I called after her. "You, of all, should know the consequences of such an act."

The Sidhe queen paused, turning back to us. "We shall respect the privacy of your dream-world, Ptesanwi. We expect that you will do the same for us."

**********

JJ screeched to a halt in the school's parking lot, driving his mom's car. He scrambled out, running toward the school building, knowing he was late for the early morning team get-together in the locker room. And then he stopped. Scott was also pulling off the main street into the parking lot, and he was driving his family's old pickup, not his sports car.

The two fell in side-by-side, striding angrily into the school building, their annoyed glares frightening the wimpy kids from their path even more than usual. With an angry shove that banged the locker door hard against the inside wall, the two burly boys stormed into the locker room.

Several of the guys looked at the late arrivals, and from the expressions on their faces, they didn't seem surprised that Scott and JJ were late.

Coach handed out the day's schedule, including the times he expected the team to be in the gym working out instead of sitting in study hall. Each day, he emphasized something different and usually unexpected, knowing that keeping the boys fit and on their toes was a formula for a winning team. Coach was more than a little obsessive about that.

As he started to leave, he paused. "One more thing. The Mitchell chapter of H1 has agreed to perform screening for the mutant genes when we do our monthly drug tests next week, and once a year after that. They'll draw a little blood and take a cheek swab. You won't need additional permission slips, because your parents already gave us consent for routine substance screening and physical testing when you turned in your paperwork and physical forms."

"Too bad we didn't do that at the end of the summer," Scott snorted. "Might have kept 'it' off the football team!" Unspoken was the fact that if they had detected the meta-gene complex in Brandon, he might not have taken the starting position from Scott the past fall season.

"We'll get a screening annually now. The focus of the test will be on those sixteen and under, because they told us that late mutant manifestations are very, very rare. That's all, boys." He turned and walked into the coaches' cage, closing the door behind himself.

The boys began to file out, but a subtle gesture from Scott kept eight other boys back. Once everyone else was gone, he glanced around. "Anyone else having some weird shit happen?"

"Like what?" one of the guys asked.

"I had to drive in my mom's car today," JJ complained. "My car 's plug wires were all cut."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "And someone drained the oil from my car. If I catch the mother-fucker that did that, I'm going to cut his balls off. They might have ruined my engine!" He glanced around. "Anyone else?"

The boys went around, and each of them had something, from a cut radiator hose that had drained the engine coolant, to all tires flattened from the air being let out. At least, they hoped that the perp had only let the air out and not slashed the tires.

Scott angrily pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up for the others to see. "Did anyone get one of these?"

The note read simply, "Confess or else."

A couple of the guys nodded slowly.

Scott glowered at the news. "My folks called Sheriff Larson this morning." He looked around, scowling, wondering if he should bring up the other event. Finally, he decided that he might as well, since the guys were all in this together. "Friday morning, I found a small bowl with calf nuts on my dresser, with a similar note. And an animal ... dick ... in my car. There were almost no signs of a break-in - not even tracks in the fucking snow! Did any of you guys have something similar happen?"

Jaws dropped at the news Scott had told, but the others all shook their heads 'no'. Scott seemed to have been singled out for the first event.

"Do you notice a pattern here?" JJ asked hesitantly.

"Of course there's a fucking pattern here," Scott growled. "We all know it." He saw nervous glances exchanged among the boys. "But we've got our story, and Doc is backing us one hundred percent. Plus dad called the MCO in Sioux Falls. We've got to stick together on this, guys. It's one pansy mutant's word against ours, and we ran the shit out of town. So nobody has anything to go on. We stick together, agreed?"

Several boys nodded, one or two nervously, as they all echoed, "Agreed."

**********

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Poe Cottage

I was drying from my shower, doing a little better to not be bothered by Ayla this morning, who was at the mirror brushing and flossing his teeth, but in an obviously slow way that gave him plenty of time to ogle us girls. At least it was obvious to me, because I'd been a guy, and if I'd have been in his position in that bathroom, I'd have been doing the exact same thing. The way the other girls acted - shaving themselves, talking while nude, and so on - I suspected that they'd become inured to Ayla's presence. My pulse raced, and my breathing was rapid and shallow - both indications of stress and anxiety, but so far, I'd been able to control my reactions.

As I wrapped my towel around my body, Nikki stormed into the bathroom, right toward me. "What did you do last night?" she practically screamed at me.

"What?" I was confused. Was she talking about my shower, in which case she obviously knew - as did most of the girls on the floor, apparently, given the looks I'd gotten so far that morning. According to Evvie, Nikki had been the one who'd turned on the noise cancellation system, after all.

"What did you do to me last night? Why were you intruding in my dreams?" Nikki demanded angrily. "Aunghadhail says she was with you in dreams last night, and I felt it! You have no right to rummage around in my head like that!"

The light-bulb went on. "Oh," I said as I gathered my thoughts. "First of all, Aunghadhail came into _my_ dream space, not the other way around." I answered sternly, fighting anger that she dared to accuse me of the serious infraction that _she_ and _Aunghadhail_ had done to me.

Nikki started at my statement, the fiery anger in her eyes winking out, and her jaw hung open for a moment or two. "But ... why would she ...?"

"Ask her, not me! I don't know why she intruded, but she very rudely entered my dream-world _uninvited_!" I was as upset as Wakan Tanka that the Sidhe queen had come so easily into what should have been a protected dream-world.

"What?" Nikki was stunned at what I told her. We were loud enough that other girls, and Ayla, were watching us, concerned at the heated exchange.

"You heard me. _She_ intruded on _my_ dream space, without being invited! She _demanded_ to know why my spirit had come, even though it's none of her damned business. Or yours!" I felt angered at Aunghadhail's presumptuous, arrogant attitude, and that anger was on display.

Nikki's expression changed almost instantly to remorse. "Oh," she said tersely. "I didn't know that she'd done that," she said softly, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Well, she did," I said firmly, still feeling testy. "It's very rude to enter someone's dream-world, and in doing so, she tore up my protective wards. She could have lowered the barriers and allowed Unhcegila, or some other evil spirit, to attack me, or Debra, because of her recklessness." I'd had enough, and turned away from her, expressing my anger in my expression, words, and posture. She hadn't even apologized, not even a cursory 'I'm sorry'.

After I dried and brushed my hair and brushed my teeth, I glanced around as I was leaving. Nikki was out of the shower, and she was looking at me strangely, as if she didn't know whether to be offended at what had gotten Aunghadhail's panties in a bunch, or to be apologetic for Aunghadhail having violated my dream-world. I expected at least some kind of apology. Nikki had no idea of the danger that Aunghadhail could have placed me or Debra in, and I resented the hell out of it.

Dressing was easy - all I had to do was put on a clean uniform. In many ways, that made life simpler than it had been when Mom, Debra, Wish List, and Vanity Girl had all fussed over outfits I'd picked out, finding fault with my choices for color combos, shirt styles with pants styles, and so on. Because I liked the look, I went with a French braid again, and with a bit of makeup, I was ready to get some breakfast.

While Vasiliy, Laurie, Adrian, Evvie, and Naomi were quite chatty, I was rather subdued. They noticed, and attempts to draw me into conversations were wasted effort. I had some sucky classes to deal with that morning, and I really, really wasn't looking forward to them. Besides, I felt like I was in a cell waiting for the old padre and the executioner to escort me on the 'long walk' to my doom, being in serious trouble for missing an appointment with Dr. Bellows. The axe could fall at any time, and the longer it went without word from administration or security, the more tense I got. I was glad when breakfast was over, because the atmosphere around our table had gotten rather oppressive, with everyone noticing my mood, and trying to avoid subjects which they knew, or suspected, were sensitive.

Rosalyn met me in the caf to escort me to my first class, and, after a quick glance to see if anyone was looking, she licked her lips seductively at me, and then made a kissing motion. As I tried to get my eyeballs back in their sockets and restart my stunned and embarrassed heart, she laughed at my shocked reaction. "Let's get you to class before I do something neither of us will regret, even though you'll claim to!" she whispered seductively.

I just shook my head at how blatant she was. Blatant and rather playful - _if_ she wasn't serious, which I wasn't sure of. "Still not interested," I said, forcing a smile.

"And you're so fun to tease," Rosalyn shot right back with a wicked grin.

"What's it going to take to get you to quit?" I pleaded.

"Agree to come to our hot tub party," she answered without pausing.

"Uh, I don't think so."

"I can keep this up until you crack! Ve haf vays of makink you bathe!" she added in a fake, bad, Hollywood German villain voice. Coming from her quite delicate and beautiful face in her sultry contralto, though, it lost its impact. Even that silly, supposedly-threatening phrase sounded sexy and seductive.

I just sighed and shook my head. "How come I'm your project girl for this term? Aren't there other girls you can pick on?"

Rosalyn laughed aloud at that, drawing attention to the two of us. "Yes, but none of them are quite as ... interesting ... as you." She gave me a sultry pouty look. "And you just can't resist my charms, can you?"

"Yes, I can," I replied, my voice shaking. Truth be told, after the previous evening, I was a little curious, even while my heart and mind reminded me repeatedly that I was Debra's girl. Fortunately, Rosalyn's teasing - or attempted seduction, whichever it was - ended when we got to the classroom building. "I can get upstairs from here, and I'm not alone, so you can get back to whatever it was you were doing."

Rosalyn hunched her shoulders forward, grinning gleefully, and rubbed her hands together. "Good! I can return to plotting how to get you to the hot tub party. Bwah, hah, hah, hah!"

I shook my head, laughing. "You don't have a good 'mad scientist' laugh. So how can you plot and scheme, if you can't even do a decent 'evil genius'?" I joined the throng streaming into the building, chuckling to myself. Rosalyn's teasing did shock me by her bluntness, but she made me laugh, at least for a moment, even if the not-so-subtle undertones of her joking made me nervous or uncomfortable. Then I remembered why I was in this building, in this class, and my mood darkened once more.

I walked into the classroom for Algebra I, already feeling very unhappy at the whole situation. The students filing in looked at me with a mixture of expressions, from lust (which I was beginning to recognize only too well), to amusement, to hostility - the latter mostly from girls who might have felt competitive in the looks department. Debra and the SFL ladies had warned me that girls could get very catty over appearances and envy, and I was certain I saw some of that on display.

Eventually, everyone was seated, or so it seemed, so I took a seat, which, as usual, was in the front center of the room. Shaking my head and sighing, I slid behind the desk, plopping my backpack on the floor beside me, and, having been warned by Debra, put my foot through an arm-strap so no smart-ass TK could move my books or backpack.

The instructor walked in and quickly scanned the room, focusing on the new item, which was a new student sitting in the front row. Me. The schedule said that she was Ms. Roberta Bell, and from what I'd looked up briefly the night before, she taught some of the heavyweight math classes, but nothing in the same league as what I was doing for independent study. Or rather, what I was _trying_ to do, if I ever found the time.

"Are you Kayda Franks?" she asked. Ms. Bell looked to be in her late forties, and she wore somewhat unattractive glasses, and those seemed to fit her overall look, because her brown hair was not well-styled, and her clothes seemed a little frumpy and unkempt on her slightly overweight body, like the dress and grooming habits of the stereotypical absent-minded professor.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, which drew a few snickers. Probably because some of these kids had never heard proper manners, and expected a mindless, 'yeah' or 'uh huh'.

"You're a little behind, and since math builds upon prior lessons, you will need to get caught up as quickly as you can." I started to object, but she didn't give me time. "Okay, today's lecture is in chapter 2, section 3 of your books if you want to highlight or follow along." She waited a moment while students opened their books, and then she turned to the board. She turned back to me, however, with a frown. "Miss Franks, are you going to follow along in your book?"

I shook my head. "No." It was the safest thing to say without being an ass or getting in trouble.

"At least you'll want to take notes," she admonished me.

I shook my head again. "Don't need to."

"That's a good attitude to ensure that you fail the course," Ms. Bell cautioned, sounding less than pleased with my attitude. "Very well. If you insist."

I sighed heavily. "I already _know_ algebra very, very well."

She looked at me very skeptically, her expression saying only too clearly that she didn't believe me, and then she turned to the board and began to lecture, pausing occasionally to ask questions to see if the students were getting it. I had taken out a notebook, and was busily writing down what I understood about Wakan Tanka's magic, in preparation for my Intro to Magic Arts class.

"Miss Franks?" Ms. Bell interrupted me, "do you understand the associative and commutative properties, and why they're important?"

I started at the interruption, and glanced up at the board. "Yes." I turned back to my note-taking.

"What I meant was, if it's not too much of an inconvenience for you, would you do so for the class' edification?" She sounded pissed this time.

"Oh. Sorry. The commutative properties of addition and multiplication essentially say that order is not important, ergo, that any ordering of coefficients and variables within a set of operations that are purely additive or purely multiplicative does not make a difference in the outcome, unlike multiplication with matrix operations in linear algebra, where order _is_ important. By using the commutative property in multiplication, it is possible to rearrange numeric coefficients and variables to find similar terms, thus allowing ...."

Ms. Bell cut me off, scowling. "That's a lot more detailed than we need at this point in the class." I could tell her curiosity had been stirred, but she was also quite angry with me for my earlier callous attitude. "I take it you've been exposed to algebra before?"

"You could say that," I answered, trying hard not to be rude or snarky. Unfortunately, my frustration with Fey and with being forced to repeat algebra had jaded me, and my tone wasn't exactly as neutral as it should have been. "In fourth grade. I've been doing college-level independent study math courses the past two and a half years, and getting college credit for them. I'm way past second semester differential equations and into graduate-level courses."

I heard a few kids smirking and scoffing at my comment, so I turned around and glared at one who was openly laughing. "Like _you_ know how to calculate second-order residual equations for a non-uniform finite difference multigrid in the solution of discretized integro-differential equations in three dimensions, such as would apply to an aerodynamics problem using the Navier-Stokes equations?" I snapped at him, daring him to challenge my mathematical knowledge. From the expression on his face, and those around him, he had no idea what I'd said, let alone how to contest my knowledge. Satisfied, with a hint of smugness to my scowl, I turned back to the front of the room, still looking disgusted.

Ms. Bell was looking at me with a completely different expression on her face, one that looked like amazement. "What are you doing in algebra?"

"My class advisor refuses to deal with reason," I snapped back, and saw her startled expression. "I mean, she didn't even look at my transcripts." The displeasure in my voice was unmistakable. It earned a glare from Ms. Bell.

"I need you to stay after class a moment to discuss your proper math placement."

"Sure, since I'm in no rush to go to the PE class they put me in." After Aunghadhail intruding rudely in my dream world, plus the snarky attitude from Nikki in the bathroom, I wasn't in a mood to put up with any crap.

Ms. Bell had had enough of my attitude. "See me after class." She turned back to her lecture notes and resumed instructing those less schooled in math than me, although every once in a while, she glanced my direction, frowning or otherwise expressing her distaste for my less-than-chipper attitude.

If I'd have paid attention, I'd have found the lecture boring as sin. As it was, I managed some reading for my magic arts class, and made quite a few notes on what I knew of my magic, how it worked, and what spells I could do. Before I knew it, the bell rang. Like the others, I put my books into my backpack, but unlike most, I went to the desk instead of toward the door. Ms. Bell had been quite insistent, and since she was already quite irritated with me, I didn't really want to further annoy her. Actually, that wasn't quite the truth. In all honesty, the only reason I cared even a tiny bit was that she sounded, at least for a brief moment, like she might recognize that I had no reason to stay in Algebra I.

One of the other students already had her attention, so I stood, tapping my foot impatiently on the floor, looking periodically at my watch. After five minutes had passed, I rolled my eyes, and sighing, walked out of the classroom. I didn't have time to waste, because I had to meet my escort.

Unfortunately, possibly because of the delay caused by Ms. Bell, no-one was waiting outside of the classroom. Crap. With a skyward eye-roll, as if to say, "why me?" I decided to deal with the issue myself. I couldn't stand here, where I'd be alone and unescorted once the other students were in their second-period classes, nor could I walk to my own second period class unescorted. It was a Catch-22 situation; I was going to be violating my escort rule one way or the other. Ah, screw it, I decided. If I was going to get in trouble, it wasn't going to be hanging out in the hallway outside of classrooms. I might as well at least get a few moments of outdoor air on my way to the gym.

I got into class without incident, mostly. Zenith spotted me entering the gym by myself, and she none-too-politely reminded me that I was breaking the rules, asked what would have happened if security had caught me alone, and tried to make me promise to _not_ do that again. Maybe it was because of my pissy mood, but I angrily shot right back - a little louder than I should have - that there wasn't an escort outside of my algebra classroom, and that I was going to get in trouble for being alone one way or the other. That got her to climb down a bit from her high holy tree, and she was forced to admit that I _had_ been left in a sticky situation. Still, I could have called someone. Sure - like I had everyone's cell phone numbers memorized. Despite acknowledging my point, she really wasn't happy with my unpleasant attitude, even though I knew she was trying to help me. If she ever called in all the favors I'd racked up in my first five days, I was going to owe her grandpa's car. And my paychecks for a couple of years. And my first-born. I started at that - where in the hell had that thought come from?

Everyone else in class was wearing martial arts clothes, which I'd been told nothing about, and there had been nothing on my class schedule indicating that I needed such clothes. If I'd have known, I could have picked them up at the bookstore the day before. To further confuse me, all of them were sitting in a funky way along the edge of the mat. Shit. I didn't know what to do.

Instead of trying to imitate what looked like a very uncomfortable position, I just stood against the wall, waiting for who-knows-what, while students kept glancing my way, murmuring and whispering among themselves - obviously about me.

I didn't have to wait long. Two instructors came out - a small, older Oriental man, and a tall, lithe African-American woman, both in martial arts outfits - and they almost instantly looked at me quite suspiciously.

The older man looked directly at me, with an inscrutable gaze that left me wondering about what he was thinking. "You are new?" he asked me pointedly.

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Come to the center of the mat," he ordered.

I didn't want to be the center of attention in a class _again_, but Ito had made that unavoidable. I slowly trudged to the mat, facing Ito and the tall woman.

"I was informed by the administration that you would be in class on Friday," Ito said. "It's good that you are able to join us today." There were titters and chuckles among the students at his attempted feeble joke, which pissed me off. "Why are you not in a gi? The class registration and schedule you received very specifically call out that a white gi is required for this class."

"I've ... had nonstop issues ever since I got here, and I haven't had a chance to get one."

"You had four days between your arrival on campus and today in which to get a gi." He didn't want to listen to any excuses.

My lower lip was trembling as I fought to control my growing sense of frustration and anger. 'Remember what Maka said. Remember what Maka said,' I repeated in my head, over and over, trying to focus on being respectful instead of losing my temper. "It's not my fault that someone else has caused me a litany of problems since I arrived - problems that wiped out three class days and my whole damned weekend." I tried not to scowl at him. "I don't want this class anyway. And FYI, my class schedule has _nothing_ on it about a gi, or whatever it's called. Would you care to see?"

"Your schedule is something you must take up with your advisor or the administration," the taller black woman said, her face impassive, but her tone of voice conveying that she wasn't happy at my excuse or lack of desire to be in the class. Behind me, I could hear more soft murmuring among the students.

Ito continued, ignoring what I'd said, "You will be seated in seiza before Sensei Tolman or I enter the gym, as all the other students are. Is that understood?"

I nodded. "Yes." I was fighting back my anger at their total lack of understanding or sympathy, and their stupid little games they were demanding that I to endure.

"You will address us as Ito Soke," he nodded his head, "and Sensei Tolman." She nodded also, just so I'd be clear as to which was which. "Is that clear?"

This was the same type of bullshit than the football coach made us endure in two-a-day practices months ago. "Yes." I saw his eyes narrow. "Yes, Ito Soke," I corrected myself.

Sensei Tolman decided to speak. "You _will_ have a gi for class tomorrow, understood?"

That broke the dam on my temper. "Precisely when, if you don't mind me asking, am I supposed to have time to go buy a gi?" I demanded, overwhelmed by frustration at my class schedule. "My advisor scheduled me for nine classes this term, and I don't _have_ any free time to go to the bookstore during its normal operating hours to buy a gi." My voice was rising in pitch and volume as my anger at the stupid situation grew. To hell with what Maka told me; I was being treated like I was a kindergartener, and I didn't like it one little bit.

"Since you are new, do you have any experience in martial arts?" Tolman asked, completely oblivious to what I'd just said.

I shook my head. "None. Zero, Zip, Zilch. Nada. I don't know a damned thing about it." Ito and Tolman glared at me for how I answered. "No, sensei," I corrected myself again.

"Very well. We will need to evaluate your abilities before you begin training." Ito said. "For today, sit at the edge of the mat, as the other students now sit, and observe." He effectively dismissed me. "Advanced students, to the right with me. Beginning students, to the left with Sensei Tolman."

I watched, my frustration simmering, as the rest of the students split into the two groups and left me completely out. It was like third grade all over again, bringing back the intense emotional pain I'd experienced all those years ago. I heard murmurs, and I _knew_, or at least was very certain that the other students, who'd been at this for weeks already, found my situation amusing and were getting a big laugh at my expense. I sure as hell didn't find it in the slightest bit funny; once more, I felt humiliated.

For almost twenty minutes I sat in that stupid, painful position they'd made me sit in, watching the other students interacting with the instructors, while I could have as well been invisible or not even present. The beginning group was working on katas of basic kicks and hits, interspersed with practice in falling in various ways. It was boring as hell. And annoying.

After twenty minutes, I was fuming like a volcano about to erupt. This was a complete and total waste of my time, and excluding me as they had was emotionally painful. Finally, I'd had enough, and I scrambled to my feet and stalked toward the door. "I don't need this shit!" I muttered angrily under my breath. A few of the nearer students must have heard, because there were gasps of shock that I'd dared to comport myself and speak as I had in front of the instructors.

Sensei Tolman noticed me. "Class isn't over. Where are you going?"

I didn't even try to control my temper. For a brief moment, I had a vision of Hoka, the badger, who is an extremely fierce fighter when pushed. "Leaving this worthless class," I snapped back at her, "because sitting in a corner isn't doing a _damned thing_ for me, and I have a _lot _ of other classes to catch up on."

"Sit down," she commanded me.

"This is a total fucking waste of my time. I don't want this class anyway. What's next? Making me fight someone experienced so I can get the crap kicked out of me and be humiliated?" I snarled back in response, loudly enough that some on the _other_ group across the gym heard me. I knew that I was going to get in serious trouble for both my attitude and language, and I didn’t really care. "I don't have a gi, because I started late, and I don't have time to get one, but you demand that I somehow do the impossible! I don't know shit about martial arts, so you push me aside. I've got better things to do than sitting around watching others learn while I'm totally excluded." I stomped toward the door.

"Get back to your position," Tolman commanded again, more sternly than the first time.

"No."

I heard a collective gasp of shock from Tolman's students. "What?"

"No. You act like it's my fault that I was late, instead of the adults who run this stupid fucking place and are screwing up my life," I snarled.

"You may be frustrated," Sensei Tolman said, "but that's no excuse for your poor attitude, and it's certainly no excuse for your language."

"IDFM!" I hissed at her, loudly enough that I think Ito heard. I turned and stomped out the door, fuming and determined to do whatever necessary to get out of that stupid class.

To my surprise, Sensei Tolman followed me out, lightly grasping my elbow just outside the gym doors as she repeated, "Get back to class." I yanked my elbow free, but she clasped my shoulder more firmly, and painfully. "Uh, Miss ...?" she said, and paused because she didn't know my name.

"I'm leaving your stupid course, so IDFM!" I snapped back at her.

"What's your name?" Sensei Tolman asked as she used her size and leverage to spin me around to face her.

"What do you care? What does anyone around this fucking place care? You would have known if you'd have asked at the start of class, but treating me like a person was apparently too much bother! Every teacher and administrator I've met has done nothing but try to screw me over! To make my life miserable, or to denigrate or demean me!" Beyond her, in the gym, I could see many students from her group staring at us, with confused looks of 'what the hell just happened here-" on their faces. I thought, for a moment, that Sensei Tolman had the same look, but then I convinced myself that I was just imagining it.

Tolman frowned deeply. "Watch your language, young lady," she warned. "Now, what's your name?"

"I have an appointment with my class advisor," I replied angrily, refusing to answer her question.

"What is your name?" Tolman repeated insistently, holding my shoulder so firmly that trying to squirm away hurt a lot.

"Why don't you check your class roster?" I snapped at her, which seemed to startle her, like she hadn't thought of it. I glared at her for several long seconds. "Kayda. Kayda Franks."

"Kayda, since we were informed that you would be in class on Friday, your absence led us to the conclusion that your schedule had been changed, and that you wouldn't be in our class."

"And _that's_ an excuse for humiliating me by treating me like a nobody?" I said, sulking and angry.

"We plan out our class several days in advance, so when you weren't in class Friday, it was assumed that you weren't enrolled. Your unexpected presence threw off the scheduled activities we had planned for today. I apologize if you were embarrassed or felt excluded. Neither Ito Soke nor I had any intention of either of those things."

"So you don't even have time in your precious fucking schedule to treat me as a human being by doing something simple like asking my name at the start of class?" I grumbled. "I've got to go find my advisor."

"No, you need to return to class," Sensei Tolman countered.

"So I can sit and waste even more of my time?" I practically screamed. I had no doubt but that students in the gym could hear me - not that I cared. "Or didn't you think that, because they enrolled me for _nine fucking classes_ that I could afford the time to sit and do nothing? And you want me to go back? Haven't you humiliated me enough for one day?"

"Your task for today is to observe and learn," Tolman offered. "Now, I apologized, so ...."

"You weren't the only one who embarrassed me," I snarled. "Ito Soke made some wisecracks at my expense and he was downright rude, and he obviously didn't have time to even ask what had happened. Back home, he would be courteous enough to apologize, too - not that it'll matter once I talk to my advisor. Now if you're through with your lecture, you can go ahead and get back to students that you _care_ about teaching! I'm going to do something useful, like get my schedule changed to get out of this bullshit class, and then, thanks to Security and Mrs. Carson, I have to have my daily meeting with Dr. Bellows. Thanks for nothing!" With that, I turned and stomped out of the gym, fuming at the painful and deliberate exclusion and the humiliation.

Behind me, I'm sure Sensei Tolman didn't waste any time wondering what had happened. She had a class to teach, so worrying about me, or how my schedule had been screwed up, or how she and Ito had embarrassed me, probably didn't rate a second's worth of thought. To them, I was just another student who they could use as punching bags, or demean, or exclude from participating in front of the others. Like I was going to stand for that!

Fortunately for me, security wasn't watching as I stormed back to Schuster Hall. Inside, I went directly to Mrs. Hawkins' office. One way or another, even if I had to go to Carson, I was going to get my absurd schedule straightened out. Administrative staff, teachers, and other students eased away from me as I walked past, reading my irate expression and correctly interpreting that I had zero patience left. Unfortunately, Mrs. Hawkins wasn't in her office, and according to the note on her door, wasn't planning to return until about mid-way through my third-period class.

I wondered whether to wait, and miss part of my magic arts class, or to go back to Poe until third period. On the one hand, magic arts had been the least awful class so far. On the other, that was before Nikki and Aunghadhail had violated my privacy and my dream-space. And Nikki hadn't even offered a simple apology, let alone a meaningful one, which told me that she didn't realize just how serious her intrusion was. How was I supposed to deal with a class TA who acted like that? My mood, which had started to recover from the humiliation in martial arts, sank fast again.

"Kayda," I heard a familiar voice calling from behind me.

I spun, and my heart skipped a beat when I confirmed that the voice belonged to Dr. Bellows, who was walking down the hall carrying his coffee cup. I was so screwed. "I'm sorry I missed my appointment yesterday, Dr. Bellows," I apologized quickly. "Everything got so messed up, and someone tried to trick me, and I got lost in the tunnels after my special class, and then I had to talk to security, and by the time all that was done, I'd completely forgotten, until we were at dinner, but by then you'd gone home."

"Why aren't you in class right now?" he asked. "Do you have a free period?"

I hung my head. "No. Not officially," I admitted. "But ... I ... I need to meet with Mrs. Hawkins to get some things straightened out on my schedule. And ... I'm sorry I missed yesterday's appointment. I ... got tricked coming ...."

"Louis gave me a briefing."

I looked up, and he seemed to be a little sympathetic. "In all the stuff that was happening, I forgot."

"We'll just consider Louis' checkup yesterday to be your daily appointment, okay?" He _did_ have a look of sympathy on his face. "Now, if you're free, why don't we have a little talk, and I can try to find out what's going on with your classes that has you so upset."

I felt bad as I explained my side of the situation, starting with English the day before. The class sucked, and then I had the incident with the illusion of Cascade. Then the nightmare, and I forgot about the appointment. I somehow neglected to mention my shower relaxation, but I did talk about the dream-walk being interrupted by Aunghadhail, and how Fey had been so pissy toward me in the morning, as if it had been my fault. Then Algebra I, and the missing escort because the teacher wanted to waste my time waiting to talk to her, which kept me in the classroom until it was too late, and finally the shit-storm in martial arts.

Dr. Bellows nodded, his teeth clenched on his unlit pipe. "That would explain why I got an e-mail from Miss Seever, and from Ms. Bell. Both of them reported that you had an extremely poor attitude."

"Do you blame me? I've got stuck with repeating math and English classes that I don't need, kept out of a class everyone thinks I _do_ need, and they loaded me up with nine classes this term! It's like someone is trying to make my life so miserable that I leave, or put on conditions so impossible that I can't meet them and then I'll get kicked out!"

"And why did Amanda Tolman just call me?"

Without thinking, I snorted in disgust at his mention of her. "Yeah, right!"

" Why don't you think she'd call me about you?"

"Because neither she nor Ito gave a shit about me in class!" I retorted, falling into that peculiar emotional state between anger and despair. "They were too busy humiliating me, and making me feel totally left out, so the others were ...." I stopped suddenly, not willing to accuse the other students of laughing at me, at least not to Dr. Bellows - even though I knew that they had been.

"Kayda," Dr. Bellows said calmly, "people with PTSD, who are coping with very traumatic events from their past, often feel a bit paranoid. It's a normal fear-based reaction."

"Yeah? So what you're saying is that I'm being paranoid, is that it?"

"I wouldn't use _that_ word," Dr. Bellows countered calmly, to try to still my intense emotions. "I'm saying you're probably over-reacting to coincidental events ...."

"They didn't even bother to ask my name!" I snapped back, fighting tears, successfully for the moment. "And I got chewed out for not having a gi, when nothing on my class schedule said I needed one. And then they pushed me to sit on the side like I didn't belong."

Dr. Bellows frowned as he scribbled some notes. "That's not what Sensei Tolman told me. Are you sure your feelings aren't skewing facts a little bit?"

"Last night, I looked on-line at typical classes for freshmen and sophomores, broken out by power class. And then I ran the numbers in my head. This is so improbable as to rule out a bizarre set of coincidences."

Dr. Bellows frowned. "What you're trying to say is ...."

"Someone's trying to fuck with me," I retorted angrily. "I don't know who, but these things can't be dismissed with a wave of the hands. At least not by someone who understands probability and statistics."

"Okay, I think I'll need to look into something. First, though, let's talk about you, and about how you're doing."

I shook my head slowly. "I don't know," I said with a heavy sigh. "Last night, when I was caught alone, I was so afraid of being expelled, but then I was wishing that I'd never come here. I'm ... I'm confused."

Dr. Bellows actually laughed. "It's progress for you to be afraid of being expelled. It means that you're finding things here that are meaningful to you."

"Yeah? Like what? Repeating classes I've already had? Being humiliated in martial arts class that I don't even want?"

"It doesn't sound to me like you're trying very hard."

"It's not worth it. Algebra is so ... beneath my knowledge level! I was working on college-level classes - for credit! And Mrs. Hawkins wouldn't even listen to me. I'm a sophomore, but Mrs. Hawkins and the teachers are treating me like I'm a freshman." I closed my eyes, my teeth clenched, nostrils flared, and breathing heavily out of frustration, but I slowly began to push that down, to calm myself. It wasn't Dr. Bellows' fault, I reminded myself. "Mr. Lodgeman said I definitely need Intro to Avatars because I have two spirits, and Ms. Grimes agrees, because my spirits are integral to my magic. But Mrs. Hawkins wouldn't listen. I'm guessing she didn't even _look_ at my transcript." Another deep, calming breath; I was getting too wired again.

"And martial arts? With your history, I would have thought that you'd be eager to learn to defend yourself."

"Why? The mutant-haters outnumber us by at least fifty-to-one. You know how I did when it was only six high-school kids the first time. What's the point?" I shook my head. "To the rest of the world, I'm just another worthless mutant who lost everything and got the crap kicked out of me to boot."

"Wihakayda, you are _not_ worthless!"

"But Wakan Tanka," I protested, "it feels like I'm completely unimportant. No-one is paying attention to what _I_ need. They're treating me like I _am_ worthless."

Wakan Tanka poured me a cup of tea, but I pushed it away. "You are here like everyone else, placed by the Great Spirit for a reason, even though the reason might not be obvious to you. Nothing the Great Spirit does is worthless. _You_ are not worthless."

"No? So why is all this crap going on?"

"When a boy comes of age, is he simply called a warrior, and given a place of importance in the tribe?"

I puzzled for a moment at the change of direction in the conversation. "No," I answered, recalling Grandmother Little-Doe's stories. "He has to earn his place as a warrior, to prove he is worthy."

"And are the trials easy?"

I saw where she was going with this, and I didn't like it, but I had to answer, if for nothing other than courtesy. "No. They are difficult."

"Are your challenges any less difficult? Are they, perhaps, more difficult because of the role you have, which is greater than that of any warrior or chief?"

I sighed, knowing that she was speaking the truth, even though I didn't want to hear it. Slowly, I reached out and took the tea from her.

"You will be tested, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka told me as she put her arm around my shoulder. "Know this - if you were not capable of passing the tests, Tatanka and Ptesanwi would not have come to you. We are here to help you with your challenges."

"Kayda?" I felt a touch on my shoulder. "Kayda, are you okay?"

I focused my eyes from the nothingness they'd been staring at while I'd been in dream-space. Dr. Bellows was leaning over, touching my shoulder, shaking lightly to see if I was responsive. Obviously, I'd zoned out again while I was being chewed out by Wakan Tanka. Okay, she hadn't chewed me out, but had 'advised' me in the rather _insistent_ way that Mom and Dad used to.

"Sorry," I said to him quickly. "My ... spirit advisor decided to have a little ... talk with me."

"Oh, so you have your own built-in counselor?" Dr. Bellows asked with raised eyebrows. "I suppose that makes me redundant, then," he added with a chuckle. "I want to see you again this afternoon, after your electronics class." He saw me start. "Don't worry about what happened yesterday. I'll arrange with Mrs. Horton to meet you, and we can talk as we walk back from the lab. That should take a little pressure off of your hectic schedule. If you need to talk more after the rest of your classes, that is."

"Okay," I said tentatively, not knowing what else to say.

"Next, I'm going to have a talk with Charlie Lodgeman when he gets back from Pennsylvania ...."

"What's he doing there?" I asked.

"I'm not exactly sure, but it's some Native American spirit thing." Dr. Bellows replied. "As I was saying, when he gets back, I'll talk to him to see if he'll take over as your academic counselor. Occasionally, we encounter a few ... glitches ... in schedules, and ..."

"You call some of this stuff just 'glitches'?" I asked, dumbfounded by how he could use such an innocuous term to describe the crap that I'd been going through.

"It's being polite, and not attributing to conspiracy that which can be explained by ... other things."

"Like stupidity? Or malice?" I asked bluntly.

"I wasn't going to say it," Dr. Bellows chuckled. "Let's talk about how you're adjusting."

Panic gripped my throat. "To ... being a girl?" I asked, terrified that he'd find out what I'd done the previous evening.

"That, or how you're adjusting to being a mutant, or how you're adjusting to life at Whateley - besides the teachers and classes you dislike so." He wasn't very specific, but I couldn't help thinking that I'd given him a clue about things that I really wanted to keep secret.

"And we'll leave you enough time that you can run by the bookstore to purchase a gi for martial arts."

I frowned, pursing my lips tightly together. "No," I answered sternly. "I don't need one, because as soon as my classes get straightened out, I won't need it."

"Kayda," Dr. Bellows said in a gently reproving way, "you've been in several fights, both in the real world and in the astral world. You have no skill in fighting, and it showed in those battles. Frankly, you got your butt kicked but were lucky enough to survive. You _need_ to learn how to defend yourself. After what you've been through, I would think that you'd _want_ to take martial arts, if only as a confidence booster."

With that as an opening, we talked more about my adjustment to Whateley, and to my classes. Dr. Bellows wanted me to take some anti-depressants, because he was certain that I was depressed, but with my powers, it wouldn't do any good. That's when I made the mistake of mentioning the healing tea that Wakan Tanka taught me how to make, and how it seemed to calm me. For telling him that, I got direction to review the tea with Ms. Grimes in my next class, and if she thought it okay, then I was to have at least three cups of the tea each day, with each meal, to try to keep my anxiety level down. He ended the meeting a bit early, so that, with an escort from the administration offices, I could go to the bookstore to purchase a gi.

**********

Kirby Hall

I was so not looking forward to Magical Arts, primarily because Nikki was the TA, and I was still very pissed about what Aunghadhail had done the night before. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. She had _no right_ to intrude on my dream-world and to threaten the safety of me and Debra. And after the confrontation in the shower, when I'd told Nikki what had happened, she seemed to act like it was no big deal.

When I walked in, I felt the tension build in my shoulders. Remembering the arrangement of students from the day before, I found a seat that had been unoccupied but which was not near Tansy or Mugwump. Given that Ayla was part of Team Kimba with Nikki, I avoided him as well, and I tried to avoid his friends, which left only one or two desks in the room. I took the one closer to the back of the room.

Ms. Grimes walked in, with Nikki right behind her, and Nikki began to glance around. Her scan stopped on me, and I saw her eyes narrow a bit, and then a bit more when my expression turned to a grimace of displeasure, or possibly even a sneer.

Class started with Nikki handing back the quizzes from the day before, the ones that had been instigated by Ms. Grimes after titters of laughter and derision when I didn't know any of the types of magic. From a few nasty glances directed my way, some of the students were less than happy with their scores, and probably blamed me for them getting the quiz in the first place. Great - another reason for students to dislike me. Nikki eyed me warily as she handed me my quiz; I knew that she was an empath, and could probably sense my anger, which only grew when she didn't seem to recognize that I had every right to be upset.

We were partway through the lecture when I was unfortunate enough to draw the attention of Ms. Grimes. The topic was the fields and spheres of magic, which from the descriptions, sounded like they were the same thing. Ms. Grimes, however, insisted they were not. By ill fortune, she chose to remember my comment about my healing spells while she was talking about the enchantment sphere of magic.

"Kayda, could you demonstrate one of your healing ... potions, so we can see what it is and how it works, as an exercise for the class to judge what sphere and field it is?" Ms. Grimes asked.

I'd been trying to hide to avoid being called upon, but now I had no choice. "Um," I stammered, "I'm not very good at it," I protested weakly. "Someone else would probably be better for a demonstration." I glanced, and saw Nikki staring at me, which made me uneasy. Was I on her 'enemies' list? Did she no longer trust me and Wakan Tanka? I had no idea, except that a powerful mage was apparently unhappy with me.

"Nonsense," Ms. Grimes retorted. "Mr. Lodgeman told me about your healing tea, and I feel that it would be a perfect demonstration."

"Um," I was stalling and groping for excuses to not have to perform, "I don't have a suitable container with me. If the container is metal, the spell will get all wonky." I hoped I'd saved myself from a public display.

"Nikki," Ms. Grimes said, "get one of the wooden bowls for Ms. Franks. How large?"

"Uh, a cup or two should do." Drat. My scheme was foiled. I should have figured it was a long-shot. "I need it about half-full of cold water."

Nikki nodded, and while she went to a supply shelf to get a bowl, I reluctantly stood and trudged to the front desk and took my medicine bag off my belt.

"Please explain as you proceed with the spell," Ms. Grimes directed as she hovered behind me, watching over my shoulder. Since water was a very common component of many spells, the room had a sink, so Nikki had the cup of water on the desk beside me by the time I laid out all the herbs I'd need.

"It'd be better if someone had a mild ailment, like a headache, or upset stomach, or a minor cut or scrape. But I can do the spell without that." I paused, feeling like I was performing, and I didn't like the feeling.

"Wakan Tanka, I need you to check my incantation." I recited what I thought the spell was.

"Very good, Wihakayda. But you didn't need to check with me. You've done that often enough. Why did you come to the dream world?" she asked.

"I'm ... I'm nervous. I don't like doing this, and I feel like I was put on the spot."

"And yet, you had no trouble with a far more difficult spell in front of your mom, Mr. Lodgeman, the doctor, and three other members when you were helping Debra."

"That was different," I protested.

"No, Wihakayda, it was no different. Now, though, you have time to think of what you are doing, but with Debra, you were too concerned about her to worry about the others."

"But ... I don't want to do this in front of ... _her_! I ... I have to hide my magic. Wicitaglegla, right?"

"I understand your nervousness, Wihakayda. But you must do as your instructor says. She is your teacher. Go ahead, Wihakayda. You can do this."

Ms. Grimes was looking strangely at me when I snapped back to the real world. "Is ... everything okay?" she asked.

I nodded. "I was consulting ... my spirit," I lied, "to make sure I remembered the incantation properly." I put the bowl on the desktop, and then I began to incant, my voice trembling from nervousness, as I crushed and added the various herbs at the appropriate times. I could feel the magic coursing through me, through the herbs, and into the cup, and when I finished the incantation, there was a small flash from the cup, which was now steaming lightly. I took a deep breath, and glanced up nervously at Ms. Grimes.

"Very good, Kayda," she said, nodding, before turning to the class, which had gathered around the desk. "Can anyone name the sphere that this magic falls under? Tansy?"

"It was invocation," the pretty but unpleasant blonde answered with conviction.

"Class? Is Tansy correct?"

"Uh, yeah." "I guess so." "Yeah."

One voice said firmly, "No. It's enchantment." Everyone - except Tansy - turned to look at Alya, who had a semi-smug expression on his face.

Ms. Grimes smiled. "Correct, Ayla. It's an enchantment of the herbal mixture. What field is this spell?"

"Uh, healing?" Irene said uncertainly.

"Correct, Irene. Kayda's spell enchanted the brew, most probably with some nature-based magic thrown in through the herbs, into a healing potion, or tea." She lifted the cup and sniffed it lightly, then drew in a deep breath. "And it's got a wonderful aroma, with a bit of a natural mint scent." She dipped her finger into the bowl and placed it on her tongue. "It's quite a good tea, too." She saw Ayla reaching to do the same. "No, Ayla, you may not use your refined palate to identify the ingredients," she said, slapping at his hand, which caused a chuckle through most of the room - except Mugwump and Tansy, as expected.

"May I?" Ms. Grimes asked, lifting the cup. When I nodded slightly, she took a sip of the tea. "Mmm," she purred. "And I can feel its magic infusing into me. It's quite ... relaxing and calming." She smiled. "You _must_ teach me how to make that tea. Okay, class, the demonstration is over."

Slowly, the students went back to their seats, and after I cleaned up my medicine pouch, I did as well, taking the cup of brew back to my desk with me, while Nikki continued to stare at me. I felt a slight shudder of discomfort; had I somehow made an enemy of her when Aunghadhail had intruded in my dream walk? Was she as suspicious of me as Aunghadhail was? Or was she angry at me because I'd dared to call her out on what Aunghadhail had done?

After class, Ayla was waiting for Nikki in the classroom, so I stepped outside the building into the fresh air. I was very nervous about Nikki and Ayla after their icy attitudes in class, but I still needed one of them to 'escort' me back to Poe or to lunch. When they hadn't come out after four or five minutes, I started glancing around. First, I put up my protective shield spell, just in case someone else wanted to hurl a slush-ball at me. Then I scanned the crowd. I saw Irene looking at me steadily, like a fox studies a hare before attacking it.

"Hi, Irene," I offered, smiling. "How did you like class today?"

"I prefer Palantir." She looked at me strangely. "Where do you get your essence?" she asked bluntly.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I think my spirit gathers it for me, because I'm not aware that I'm doing anything to collect it. Are you going to the cafeteria?"

"Maybe," she replied. "Why?"

I shrugged, and tried to put on a smile. "I ... just don't like to walk alone, and since we're in the same class ...."

Irene had a knowing look in her eyes. "Is it because you don't want to get in trouble?"

"Maybe," I replied, trying to grin, but knowing that even this junior-high girl knew of my troubles with security and my restrictions. Damn, but my reputation had spread fast, and it wasn't a good one. "Or maybe I just want to talk about class and magic and stuff."

"I'll walk with you," she said, a wicked grin spreading on her face, "if you give me some essence."

"What?"

"I need to get some essence to light my own," she said. "So I'll walk with you if you give me some."

I was getting a feeling that giving this little girl some essence would be equivalent to giving a four-year-old a hammer - nothing good could come of it. "I don't know how to gather it, let alone to give you any. It just ... happens."

About that time, Ayla and Nikki emerged from the building, and they looked around until they spotted me. Nikki still had the decidedly-neutral expression on her face, and it was making me very nervous.

"Okay, Irene, I'll tell you what. Walk with me, and I'll teach you how to make my healing potion," I offered quickly.

Irene followed my glance, and even she figured out that there was something going on. "And one more spell?" she negotiated. "Like the thing you have around you now?"

I felt like I was being had by this junior high con artist. "Okay," I replied quickly when I saw Nikki and Ayla coming toward me. "But it might not work for you until you gather your own essence."

"Maybe your tea will give me some! Let's go," she said eagerly, and with me at her side, half-skipped, half-walked toward Schuster so we could eat.

As we walked, I tried to explain to her how my magic worked, and she seemed a little frustrated that I'd had to learn about the herbs and plants before I could start to learn even the simplest spells. I got the impression that she was looking for a 'quick fix' to get magic ability and power, and unfortunately for her, I didn't have that to give her. That may have been a blessing for the rest of the campus, though.

I was already in line to check out by the time Ayla and Nikki came into the caf, and they looked at me, suspiciously I figured.. I don't think they expected me to find someone to 'escort' me from Kirby to the Crystal Hall, and I suspected - strongly - that they wanted to talk to me about something. Given the previous evening, the morning confrontation, and probably the rumors about me in martial arts, I doubted there would be much good to say if we _did_ talk. I'd heard that Ayla was some heavy-hitter in Aikido, and he'd probably lecture me in some condescending way about why I should be there, and how to do things. I didn't need that kind of crap. Instead, I headed to where Evvie and the group usually sat. They watched me, exchanging words as they did so, which made me worry that they intended to come to talk to me, but then they ascended to their 'royal thrones', as if they were so much better.

I was starting to believe that Nikki and Ayla were snobs of the same order as some of the other 'exclusive' groups, only it had taken longer for them to show their true colors. Aunghadhail thought she was entitled to invade my privacy, to the point of violating every social norm I'd grown up with or had learned from Wakan Tanka - and Nikki didn't even acknowledge that it had been a highly personal invasion of my privacy, let alone really apologize. And Ayla? Ayla was apparently nothing more than a typical rich snob who'd settled in with his own private groupies. I figured that Ayla was the mover behind the whole Team Kimba thing, assembling a group of high-powered freshmen to give him clout, just like uber-rich like the Goodkinds always did.

By the time Evvie, Naomi, and Laurie showed up, I was fuming and nearly ready to explode with anger. The tea in my magic arts class hadn't helped much, which puzzled me greatly. It was supposed to be infused with magic, but it didn't seem to have been. I _needed_ something to calm me down before I exploded with anger.

I sat by the fire circle, even though it was daylight. "Wakan Tanka," I asked, "why didn't the magic in the healing spell help calm me?"

Wakan Tanka smiled. "It should be clear to you if you would only think. How does the magic get into the brew? If you know that, then you have your answer."

"Um," I stammered. "When I do the incantation, um, it ...." I wrinkled my brow. "I ... I don't know," I confessed.

"Wihakayda, are you not paying attention?" Wakan Tanka chastised me.

"Yes," I replied, but I didn't sound certain.

"Do you mix the herbs and plants and then chant the magic?"

"Uh, no," I answered slowly. Suddenly, it became clear. "When I chant over the ingredients, am I binding magic to each of them?"

Wakan Tanka smiled at me, placing her hand on my shoulder gently. "Yes, Wihakayda, you almost have it. Each of the ingredients has some natural magic in it. You add to that magic when you incant over that ingredient, and that releases its potential into the potion. After all of the ingredients are in, the potion is a mix of natural magics and your own, and the final incantation binds them together."

"So ... the magic at the end is how the beverage gains its power?" I thought a moment. "If the magic is bound at once, at the end of the incantation, then ... the magic would be released in the same way?"

Wakan Tanka looked like a proud parent. "Very good, Wihakayda. Since the magic releases in the same way it was bound, it flows instantly into the first person who partakes of the draught. After that, there is little or no magic left."

"I need to mix up some tea," I grumbled to Evvie. "I made some in magic class, but I didn't get the magic from it."

Evvie and Naomi shook their heads. "I don't get how that magic works," Evvie muttered.

"And it's weird watching you zone out like that," Naomi added.

"Sorry," I apologized, trying hard to not let my frustration spill out to my friends. Wow! That was a weird thought - friends. I suddenly realized that while I'd been moping around, I'd made some friends here. I sighed and shook my head, smiling at the irony of the situation.

"What?" Evvie asked. Laurie, too, who was sitting down with her tray, was had a puzzled look on her face.

"I just realized that while I've been busy being frustrated with the teachers, administrators, advisors, and bullies, I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I didn't even realize that I was making new friends," I answered slowly. I looked around the group. "If we are friends, I mean." There were still doubts, after all I'd been through, that something good could really be happening to me.

"Of course we're friends," Evvie said, putting her hand atop mine from across the table. Naomi, too grasped my hand, and Laurie leaned to one side and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

"Unless you do something really bad," Naomi added with a straight face, which made me gasp in surprise. "In which case," she continued after a dramatic pause, "we'll be friends who keep reminding you how you screwed up!" She couldn't keep from giggling at her last line.

Adrian and Vasiliy chose that moment to arrive, and they gave each other a wary glance when they saw us having a 'girls' moment. The slight burning I felt on my face confirmed to me, as if I'd had any doubt, that I was slowly adjusting to being, and thinking like, a girl. Memories of seeing Julie having 'girl moments' with her friends and the way it made me feel awkward and unsure of what to do, just like Adrian and Vasiliy were at that moment, confirmed the subtle changes that had occurred in me.

I made another batch of herbal tea, and when she saw me mixing it, Laurie asked what it was for. I explained its healing and calming properties - the tranquility effect was really a form of mental healing - and of course she asked if she could try a cup. Which led to Evvie and Naomi wanting to try some as well. Which inevitably led to a small group of girls who'd overheard the conversation congregating around us wondering what in the heck I was doing. Great job disguising my talent, I told myself.

I made and enchanted four cups of the beverage, and then told others that no, I wasn't going to be making tea for everybody, and could we please eat in peace. Politely, I hoped. At least that was what I'd tried. Some of the students, especially the girls, milled about despite my plea, whining and begging me to make just one more cup so they could try, especially after they saw the rather blissful looks on Evvie's, Naomi's and Laurie's faces. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but then the small cluster parted like the Red Sea.

In the middle of the crevasse of girls was Mindbird, in her lilac-colored armored bodysuit, her helmet tucked under her arm in a NASCAR driver pose, and she was looking impassively at me. Like a gunfighter in an old spaghetti western, she deliberately stepped into the mini-aisle formed by the now-curious girls, striding slowly and deliberately toward me, stopping about three feet from me. The only things missing were spurs and a gun belt low around her hips. "Kayda," she greeted me simply.

"Dale," I replied, working to keep my voice calm even though I was nervous because I had no idea why Mindbird had come to talk to me. Was I in trouble for something else now, too?

"Interesting little group," she said in an amused voice, looking around at the eclectic group, mostly lower-powered, non-A-list girls and a few guys, who'd moments before been begging me for my enchanted tea. "Problems?"

I shook my head. "I was just having some tea, and they all got a little interested."

"Is there something special that I should know about?" she asked suspiciously.

I chuckled at her suspicion that I might be giving out something illicit. "It's herbal tea with a little Lakota enchantment, so it has healing and calming power. Would you like to try some?"

Mindbird looked at me like I'd just offered her some crack. "Uh, I don't think so," she said warily.

"Just smell it," Evvie suggested, holding up her ceramic cup. "It smells heavenly."

I almost laughed as I watched Dale take a tentative sniff, and then after her eyes popped wide open, take another, longer sniff. "Wow! That smells really good." Evvie and Naomi grinned with an 'I told you so' look.

"I get the feeling that this isn't a social call," I commented, "so what's up?"

Dale glanced around, scowling, and the small gaggle scattered from around our table. Once she was satisfied that casual listeners wouldn't overhear, she turned back toward me. "I figured I'd walk with you to your next class and we could talk."

"Is that because you have something to talk about, or because you're trying to deter something you've heard might happen?" I asked bluntly.

"There's chatter that someone is planning to mess with you," Dale admitted.

"TNT?" Evvie asked the obvious. She looked worried for my safety, which was touching, asking about those who'd already caused me problems.

Dale shook her head. "Probably not. They're being closely watched, and not just because of you. They've bullied a lot of kids, and security is tired of their antics. They actually got split up in cottages, and if they get caught doing anything as a group, their punishment is really increased. I doubt it's them."

"Then who?" Laurie asked the obvious question.

"Security doesn't know." She looked directly at me. "Do you want an escort to classes?"

"Just great," I sighed. "So you're worried about protecting me, but you don't know from what? That sounds like your presence will make me _so_ much safer."

Dale stared at me for a few moments, and then, shaking her head, she walked off, leaving all of us puzzled as to what her warning meant.

**********

I used English period to work on catch-up for Power Theory, which annoyed Ms. Seever to no small end. Good. I didn't like her much, because she treated me like I was a freshman who'd never taken an English class before, whereas I'd had Mrs. Zimmer in my old school, and she was a very tough teacher. She was an old-school grammar fanatic, and she loved making us read and critically review older, classic literature, like "The Scarlet Letter" and "Last of the Mohicans." Compared to Mrs. Zimmer, Ms. Seever was a pussy-cat, except that she disliked me.

Power Theory was the usual tiresome exercise in staying awake, if one tried to follow the lecture, but since I'd abandon listening to his monotonous, droning voice in favor of reading the material, which I could read much faster than Dr. Quintain could talk, I got four more days' worth of lecture digested, to the point that it was the class in which I was closest to being caught up. Of course, that wasn't counting Algebra I and English I.

Power Lab was frustrating as well, because we were discussing powers that weren't applicable to me, and from a look at the course syllabus, it wasn't _going_ to cover anything about avatars. I needed the avatar course. And my lab partner was being quite stuck-up toward me. I got quite bored, which made Charge even more upset because I wasn't helping her. I spent most of that period wishing that my classes were a little more pertinent, engaging, and exciting.

That turned out to be the wrong wish to make, because it was filled by someone from the practical joke department. Not that my classes got more exciting. Far from it. Time crawled almost as fast as molasses would flow back home. Uphill. In early February. In other words, time dilation occurred, and seconds became like hours. No, the excitement came as Delta Spike was to meet with me to escort me to the electronics lab. Since spring was springing after a cold winter, everyone had cabin fever and wanted to be outside. Like them, I was waiting outside, sitting on a bench next to a walkway, and soaking up my share of the sun's warm rays.

I started to stand as soon as I saw my escort approaching, turning to walk to meet her so we could go back inside and down into the tunnels. It was that slight fortuitous turn of my body that saved me.

The whoosh of a speedster zipping by barely registered before I was slammed forward, spinning, by something extremely hard smacking into my left shoulder, between the shoulder blade and my spine. I didn't have time to cry out, only to pitch forward and whack my head on the hard bricks of the walkway milliseconds before everything went black.

**********

Doyle Medical Complex

Damn, I had a headache. My eyelids pried open slowly, and the light caused my head to pound as the stimulus flooded through my optic nerves into my brain, making me wince in pain. That motion, in turn, hurt my left shoulder, making me nearly black out again as a redness of intense agony danced into my vision, blotting out the dim view of the room I was in. As the repeated stabbing into my shoulder slowly faded back to painful throbbing, I slowly pried my eyes open a tiny slit. The bright lights of the room caused my head to pound again, but I was ready for it, and I let the drumbeat ease before trying to make sense of my surroundings.

I was lying on my right side so there was no direct pressure on my left shoulder, on a bed in a mostly-white room. It was obvious that I was in Doyle again, and I groaned. What had happened? I remembered standing, and hearing the distinct sound of a speedster, but nobody had gone tearing past me. And something had hit me - hard. It didn't make sense to me

"Good, you're awake," Dr. Tenent's familiar voice sang out to me.

"What ... happened?" I mumbled softly.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Dr. Tenent replied. "You were hit in your upper back by a large piece of ice, between the left scapula and your upper spine, causing several fractures."

"Not again," I groaned. "I don't remember anything. Not much."

Dr. Tenent moved to my feet, and began to touch them. "Can you feel this?" She proceeded to check my feet, ankles, and lower legs, and then she had me move my toes, feet, and legs. "The good news is that it looks like you have no nerve damage. I've healed your bones, but you'll have to take it easy for a bit, and you're going to have a whopper of a headache from your concussion."

"I ... kind of remember hitting my head on the walkway."

Dr. Tenent nodded. "The scans don't show any fractures or internal hemorrhaging, so once your headache goes away, you'll be as good as new."

"What happened this time, Kayda?" I recognized the chief's voice, but since I was looking at Dr. Tenent, he could have been there all along, or might have just come in, and when I instinctively twisted toward the sound, I nearly passed out with pain again.

"I wish I knew," I said as soon as my body quit punishing me for moving.

"What can you tell me?"

"Don't you guys have it on camera?" I asked sarcastically. "You seem to film everything else that happens to me."

I could almost feel the disgusted look and head-shake on Delarose's part. "I wish. There's nothing on the security footage, and nobody saw anyone. And what's worse, you were hit with a large ice-ball, so the evidence has all melted."

"Crap." I fought the natural impulse to shake my head in disgust, because I knew such a move would be greeted with pain. "I thought I heard something like a speedster running," I reported, "but I didn't see anyone moving around me. And then I got hit with whatever it was, I fell, and I got knocked out." A sudden though occurred to me. "And I'm missing the one class of the day I was looking forward to!"

The chief moved to where I could see him, pulling out a small box and flipping a switch. A green LED illuminated atop the device. "Doc, tell her please."

I saw Caduceus wince. "If you hadn't been standing and turning, the impact would have hit the base of your skull, or your cervical spine. It would have killed you or left you paralyzed below the neck."

I goggled at that revelation, and I saw Chief Delarose nod grimly. "Kayda, Foob, Mrs. Carson, and I are worried that someone, or something, doesn't want you here. Do you know of anyone who'd want to harm you?"

"No," I said after thinking a moment. "Except for the assholes in my home who tried to kill me."

"They can't get here. Anyone else? Or any _thing_ else?"

I nodded without having to think. "There's the snake-demon spirit that attacked me in the dream-world."

The chief shook his head. "Fubar checked into that. That was an astral-world attack, and he doesn't see how it could be tied to what happened on campus with the wards around campus to keep that sort of thing out."

"And the Mishibijiw that attacked me - in the real world."

Again, the chief shook his head. "Mrs. Carson had the mystical arts department check. Nothing has gotten through the wards." He took a very deep breath and slowly exhaled. 'I'll be honest, Kayda. This has us concerned, and rather confused. A couple of the incidents with you were psychically induced. Cagliostro and TNT had been influenced by someone to do what they did to you. It may be that this one was, too. The difference is that the first incidents seemed to be harassing, like someone was trying to get you to leave Whateley. We can't tell, because of the lack of evidence, whether someone miscalculated with the ice-ball or had ill intent. And those two attacks you suffered while en-route to Whateley were clearly intended to be fatal."

I gulped, taking in his news. "Okay, so what are you going to do?" I asked after a few awkward moments.

"For one thing, you're still officially on watch," Delarose replied quickly. "Fubar and Dr. Bellows think you don't need full-time suicide watch, but keeping you there gives us an excuse to monitor and try to protect you."

"I can't say that I like it, but it makes sense." I glanced, with pain, at Caduceus. "Can you do something to heal this so I can go to what's left of my electronics class?" Delarose groaned in disbelief, while Caduceus just rolled her eyes at my request.

**********

Caduceus may have been the greatest healer on campus, but I still hurt like hell, and I was moving slowly, accompanied by the two security officers who led me to the electronics classroom. I felt a little conspicuous as I walked in. All the other students - all male - turned to stare at me, and I felt butterflies in my stomach. It was as if I was an alien from another planet instead of a girl who shared a class. They eyed me distrustfully, as if I would succeed by convincing them to help out with a couple of wiggles and bats of the eyelashes, but at the same time, I could tell that they were attracted to me. Nerds didn't date pretty girls. Nerds didn't even get to associate with pretty girls. And like it or not, that's what I was, so I had to deal with a room full of potentially worshipful nerds.

I carefully made my way to the teacher's desk and explained what had happened and why I was late, and then went to my desk and began to work on a lab project. Before too long, I felt like someone was watching me; one of the guys had wandered to my lab station and was watching me with interest. I looked up, scowling, only to have my expression soften when I recognized Delwin from the bookstore. "Hi," I said simply.

I thought he was going to have a heart attack. A pretty girl initiates a conversation with a bona fide nerd? Not something that happens every day. "Uh, hi. Kayda, right?"

I knew that he remembered my name. Guys always remembered girls' names - and their approximate dimensions. I winced inwardly at that thought. "Yeah. And you're Delwin." Gak - from the look on his face, he'd never had a girl remember his name, and he looked about ready to pass out from nerves. "From the bookstore."

"Yeah," he replied, his voice quavering. "That's my work-study job." He hemmed and hawed for a bit. "Um, do you, um, you know, need any help, um, on your lab?" he managed to stammer. I didn't have to look to tell that he was blushing furiously and shaking with fear of being rejected.

"Thanks, but I've got this one handled. It's really pretty simple." I saw him visibly deflate. "But I may need some help on other ones, because I still have a lot of catching up to do."

"Oh. Okay."

I lowered my voice so others wouldn't overhear. "Just to let you know, I'm not going on any dates, and I'm not looking for any kind of relationship. Period and stop. But I _do_ like having friends. Deal?"

Relief flooded Delwin's face because I'd been careful to let him know clearly where he stood, without hurting his feelings or embarrassing him aloud in front of his fellow students. "Deal." I thought he'd faint when I shook his hand.

I glanced around surreptitiously as he walked back to his work area. All the other male students were looking at him like he'd just walked on water or won a billion-dollar lottery, all because he hadn't been publicly embarrassed by a pretty girl. I smiled, but I also shuddered on the inside. I'd just handled that the way I'd always respected girls for handling those types of situations - by being nice and letting him know politely that I wasn't interested in a relationship or dating, but I wasn't going to treat him like human garbage, either. I had no idea how much of a girl I was becoming, but the thought worried me.

After class, I had to wait around for an escort, which, again, seemed to be late. Or someone had forgotten. I sighed heavily; I so didn't need more problems or complications.

"Um, is everything okay?" Delwin had just finished putting away components from his lab project.

The sigh told him everything without my having to speak, but I did anyway. "No. My ... escort ... isn't here."

"If you need, I can walk with you back to your cottage." He saw my reaction, and quickly added, "Just as friends. Just as a favor, with no expectation of anything in return. I promise I won't mention dates or anything like that."

I looked at him. Damn, but he seemed so innocent and friendly. "Okay, if you promise that this is just two classmates."

"Sure. We can talk about class or stuff."

I turned to the instructor. "If someone shows up looking for me, can you let them know that I'm on my way back to Poe?"

We set off down the tunnels, and true to his word, Delwin didn't talk about anything but being a gadgeteer, and how cool electronics class was, and what he was learning in the mechanical classes. Like most gadgeteers, he was a definite underdog, having only PK hovering as an additional power.

Everything was fine, until, when we were getting out of the elevator, we both tried to go through the doorway at the same time, and I got squeezed against him. I felt a surge of panic - a guy was pushing on me, and ....

The door that I thought I'd locked flung open, and rough hands grabbed at me, yanking me violently from behind the steering wheel. I felt a blow in my ribs as a fist struck me, and another one hit my cheek.

"Hey, it's true! Brandon turned into a mutie-chick! Whoa, baby - them're some nice hooters!" The guy, his voice full of the same lust I'd always heard in the locker-room discussions of sex, yanked my jacket open, and his rough hands pawed at my breasts.

Another fist slammed into my back, sending pain shooting from my kidneys up my spine, while I screamed, fighting the hands holding me while others groped my body, yanking at my pants and tearing at my shirt, even as a blow on my side broke a rib with an audible crack.

"Let's have some fun with her before we get rid of her," one of the guys laughed as he thrust his hand into my crotch.

"No!" I screamed. "Don't touch me!" I tried to push away the hands groping me, but I was held firm, and the guys laughed at my screams. "No!"

**********

Slowly, I realized that someone was talking to me. "It's okay, Kayda," the voice said. I looked fearfully toward the sound, and saw a blonde girl beside me, her voice calm and soothing and her face compassionate. "You're okay, Kayda. You're safe." It took a moment for the flash of panic to subside and for me to recognize reality, and for me to feel her arm around me, holding me tightly, reassuringly, talking soothingly like a mother to a frightened child.

I looked at her, at the calmness and sympathy in her eyes. "What ... happened?" I asked hesitantly. I glanced around, and realized that I was wedged into a corner of the elevator, with Mindbird crouched beside me. Two security officers stood watching us, one inside the elevator and one visible through the open door towering over Delwin menacingly.

"Do you remember anything?" Dale asked me softly.

I felt wetness on my cheeks, and I wiped at them. "Uh, no. I was getting out of the elevator, and Delwin was too, and ... and ... we kind of squeezed together, and ... and then I don't remember."

Dale nodded knowingly. "May I?" she asked, and I instantly knew what she was talking about. I nodded, and I felt her presence in my mind for a moment, and then it was thrust out. She scowled at me. "Can you turn off your buffalo, please?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, embarrassed. Tears were still seeping down my cheeks from whatever had happened, and as I wiped at them, I slipped into dream-space and told Tatanka to let Dale in. "Okay," I told her when I was ready. "And he's a bison, not a buffalo," I added with a smile just to mess with Dale a bit.

Dale was practiced with her telepathy, obviously, because her presence didn't feel intrusive. After a few moments, I felt her slip back out of my mind. "Delwin's story corresponds to Kayda's memories. He didn't do anything improper, but when they accidentally bumped together in the elevator door, it triggered Kayda's PTSD. He _did_ call security, and then watched her to make sure she was safe until we arrived."

I managed to look at Delwin, at the confused look on his face. "I'm ... I'm sorry," I apologized. "I didn't mean ...." I looked down at my still-trembling hands. "I'm a mess."

"You'll be okay," Delwin replied to me. I looked up, and saw a sad smile on his face. I was stunned - after what had just happened, with me freaking out in the elevator, he still smiled at me. I tried to smile back.

"Let's take you up to see Dr. Bellows," Dale suggested. She helped me to my feet, and then glanced at the security guys. "I think we can handle this."

"We have to file a report," one of the security goons protested.

"And I'm a security auxiliary, and I'll file a report after I get Kayda to Dr. Bellows office, or to her cottage," Dale scolded them gently. She put her arm around my shoulder, supporting me in a reassuring way, and guided me down the tunnel toward Schuster, toward Dr. Bellows' office and some professional help. As often as I was there, I figured I should just find an unused office and move a cot there.

**********

Poe Cottage

I was still trembling inside when I got back to Poe; Mrs. Horton had assigned a couple of girls from the third floor to come to Dr. Bellows' office to get me. As we walked into Poe's main entrance, Nikki and Toni were leaving the cottage, and there was another uncomfortable moment. I tried to force a smile toward the two, or at least Toni. "Hi, Toni," I said in a trembling voice. I tried to say the same to Nikki, but the words stuck in my throat when I saw the uneasy look she was giving me.

"Hey, Kayda," Toni replied in a friendly voice, even though her gaze was darting back and forth between me and Nikki. "Rough day?"

"Uh, yeah," I answered, shaking a bit at the memory of the flashback. "I guess. How did you know?"

Toni smiled wryly. "Girl, your ki lines are totally messed up.

"Uh, yeah," I muttered. "Whatever that means."

Toni laughed, but Nikki continued to eye me warily. I wondered if she was upset about the dream-walking that Aunghadhail had done, or if the Sidhe queen had told her something about me that had her on edge. The tension between us was palpable, and I had no idea why, when only a couple of days earlier, it seemed that Wakan Tanka and Aunghadhail were at peace. If the two were in conflict, then living in the same cottage as Nikki was going to be difficult.

At the foot of the stairs, JJ came dashing up, an apologetic look on her face. "Ohmygod,Kayda,I'msosorryIforgotwhattimeitwasandIforgotthatIhadtogetyouandwhenIgottoyourclassroom,youweregoneandtheteacherwasgoneandIwasworriedthatsomethingbadhadhappenedtoyoulikeyesterdaysoIwenttosecuritybuttheyhadn'theardanythingandsotheylookedatalltheircamerasandsawyouwalkingwiththatboypassingMelvillesoIknewyouwereokay,butI'msorry,I'msorry.Iwon'teverletyoudownagain.Canyouforgiveme?Ididn'tmeantoleaveyoualone." She managed to cram a week's worth of feeling distraught into a few seconds. Being blonde fit JJ to a T.

I put my hand on her arm. "I'm okay, JJ," I said, smiling so she'd know I wasn't angry at her. "Everything worked out, so there wasn't any harm done, okay? Don't worry about it."

"OkayKaydaI'msosorryandIwon'tletithappenagain.You'rebeingsoniceafterIletyoudownandIpromiseIwon'tforgetagain." This coming from the girl who routinely forgot her towel in the morning showers, and who, in a logical argument, would forget what she'd said only seconds before and contradict herself. She dashed up the stairs before I could get another word in - not that I had any more to say. Or that she would have had patience to listen to.

French class was a pain, because of the different grammatical rules from English and Lakota. I'd heard that knowing one foreign language made it easier to master another one by exercising the linguistic centers of the brain, but this wasn't proving true. If anything, the nature of the Lakota language made French grammatical rules seem even more difficult, even though my improved memory made the vocabulary memorization incredibly easy. It was frustrating in class to know the words, and to give an oral answer with a strange mixture of Lakota, English, and French word ordering. A lot of others found it quite amusing, and my displeasure of their laughter caused some rather colorful phrases - in Lakota, of course, since no-one could understand exactly what choice words I was spewing in my frustration. The teacher must have suspected something, because she kept frowning at me when I _did_ slip into Lakota. She suggested - strongly - that I find someone who was fluent in French to practice with - assuming of course, that I ever had any time with my insane class load.

Dinner went well - at least as well as could be expected given that dozens of girls, and several of the Dylans, had heard of my tea through the ancient miracle of the gossip network, and consequently, they all wanted to try my elixir. It got to the point that Mindbird and Stormwolf had to intervene and tell everyone that I would NOT be making tea for anyone else during meals, and that, if necessary, they'd get that edict from the administration.

Mindbird was also concerned that my tea had something in it that was akin to drugs, and that's why people felt so relaxed and refreshed after drinking it. I tried to explain that Mrs. Grimes had tested it and found it perfectly acceptable, but between her and Stormwolf, they insisted - strongly - that I not make any more tea until the magic arts and medical people had okayed it. I didn't like that, so I calmly insisted that they were impinging on my ritual tea which part of traditional Lakota spirit medicine, and thus it was thus restricting my religious practices.

That argument put Stormwolf in a quandary , because he was torn between two sets of conflicting rules. On the one hand, my freedom to practice Lakota religion, and thus partake of the ritual healing tea, could not be infringed upon unless that practice involved a prohibited substance, like peyote. Absent such proof, my tea was permissible. But he, and anyone else in security or the administration, had the right to ask for testing of the substances to ensure there was nothing banned in the tea, and the prudent thing to do was to have my tea tested.

On the flip side, as a Native American himself, Stormwolf knew that the practice of _his_ native religion was something special and not to be intruded or infringed upon, and I was accorded the same consideration. It was almost fun watching him squirm with his moral and ethical dilemma.

Mindbird, though, knew immediately what I was doing, because I'm sure I was broadcasting my thoughts and emotions loud and clear. She frowned, and gave a small headshake 'no' to let me know that she _did_ know that I was just playing mind-games with Stormwolf, that she didn't approve, and that I should behave myself. I relented and agreed to give a sample of my tea to the medical complex to ensure there was nothing contraband in the mixture of plants and herbs, and to get a written statement from Ms. Grimes that the magic in the tea was harmless, and then I could serve tea to others in the caf. In exchange, they wouldn't infringe on my drinking the tea, unless medical reported some forbidden substance in the ingredients.

After that little bit of excitement, I was much quieter during dinner - being nearly killed by a high-velocity block of ice tends to do that to a person, and then the two Wild Pack members took away the happiness of being at the center of at least a little attention. The others in my group, however, were their usual boisterous, energetic selves. I felt quite subdued, and didn't really participate in the conversation, except for the perfunctory 'yeah', 'uh huh', or 'nah'.

I shouldn't have been surprised that they noticed, but I was, because I was so lost in reflecting on a really lousy day. It had actually seemed about four or five days long because there had been so much go wrong. At that rate, it'd feel like a thousand years to survive to graduation!

"Wihakayda, what are you thinking?" Wakan Tanka asked as she handed me a cup of the herbal tea I was becoming accustomed to sharing with her whenever I visited the dream-world.

I took a sip and felt the warmth and peace permeate my body and soul. "Mmm," I purred. "This is just what I needed."

"Is it?" Wakan Tanka asked with a sly grin. "Or do you need something else?"

I frowned, taking another sip. "I don't understand."

As I pondered Wakan Tanka's words, Tatanka ambled into the camp and stood beside me, surprising me since he'd usually lie down beside me. "I suppose you have some lesson for me?"

Tatanka nodded. "Come." He turned and walked to the edge of the village, waiting for me to follow him.

I glanced at Wakan Tanka, who merely nodded to me, so I stood and followed the white buffalo. As we exited the camp, the prairie landscape vanished, and we were in a high mountain meadow, resplendent in it summer finery. "What's your lecture for the day?"

Tatanka glanced at me, smiling smugly. "Not mine, but the lesson of Hehaka, the elk spirit."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. Great – I was about to be lectured on my behavior by another freakin' animal. "Why do you keep dragging me to meet these spirits?" I demanded, walking quickly to keep up with the shaggy white bison. "I thought you and Wakan Tanka said you wouldn't drag me here against my will."

"And we haven't," Tatanka replied immediately. "You come to us because you need an answer, or some advice - even if you don't realize that you do."

"What?" I was astounded at that revelation. "I come here to get a lecture - of my own free will?"

"You have some unspoken, unrecognized question, so you come to us for answers," Tatanka replied. We followed a stream around a bend, and there, standing majestically in profile, his head turned alertly to us, was the largest, most magnificent elk I'd ever seen. "Greetings, Hehaka," Tatanka called.

The elk nodded his head, almost bowing to Tatanka. "Greetings, White Tatanka." He stared carefully at me. "Is this the one you spoke of?"

"Yes," Tatanka answered. "She has listened and observed many lessons, but she is stubborn, past the perseverance of Hoka to the point of foolishness. She knows the lesson of Pispiza, but she acts as if she's alone. She has observed the pack behavior of Sugmanitu Hota, but thinks that she can be strong without her pack."

I glowered at the white traitor. "I'm not like that," I replied tersely.

"No?" Hehaka asked, staring directly at me as he walked almost regally to face me. "Why, then, do you sit with your community, but refuse to interact with them?"

"I ...." I couldn't answer. He was right.

"You and I are alike in a way," Hehaka said with a sad smile. "I, too, need solitude occasionally, but I feel a strong need always to be with my kind, to have companionship."

"But ...." Once again, I was confused by how much he seemed to know. "How is it that you think you know me?"

Hehaka smiled. "I could say that I have seen, but that would be a lie. I have heard from Ceda, who has clear sight and sees what you call the 'big picture'. He has watched you and noted your behavior, as Tatanka directed him, and has told me."

I turned to Tatanka, frowning angrily. "So you have the animal spirits spying on me now?"

Tatanka merely shrugged. "There are parts of your spirit that I don't understand, Wihakayda," he said simply. "So I use what I can to watch, and to learn, and to see what animal spirits you follow so I can better help when you have a question."

I opened my mouth to reply, to rebuke him for spying on me, but I couldn't. He _was_ part of me now, like Ptesanwi was, and he was doing what I had agreed, which was to allow them to be help me.

"In another way, too, we are alike, Wihakayda," Hehaka said to me. "You are, in some ways, passionate. It is good to have passion, but you must control that passion so it doesn't rule you, but serves you."

I thought a few moments. "Let's say that you're correct, that I _do_ feel a need for companionship and community. How do I do that?"

Hehaka smiled. "When I am done being solitary and need companionship, I do not wait for the herd to come to me. I must go to the herd. In the same way, you must seek your own kind for companionship and friendship rather than waiting in solitude for them to seek you. They are many, and you are one."

"So what you're saying is that I can't expect them to always come to me? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one." I hoped I was accurate with my quote. It _had_ been a while since I'd seen that movie.

Hehaka nodded. "You understand, at least in your mind. Now you need to move the lesson to your heart, Wihakayda, so it's a natural part of you. Do not be afraid of your need for solitude and quiet, but seek the community when you feel the need to be with them."

I drifted back to the real world, where I realized that I was holding my cup of herbal brew halfway to my lips, and was frozen, with the others staring at me.

"Gone to visit the skunk spirit again?" Naomi asked with a knowing grin when I blinked and set my cup down.

"No," I chuckled. "I was visiting a different spirit. Hehaka, the elk spirit."

Laurie shook her head. "It sounds like you have a menagerie in your head. A whole zoo-full of teachers."

I started at her comment, but then I smiled. "Yeah, I guess I do. Now if only I'd listen to them instead of being stubborn," I added with a laugh.

The rest of the dinner conversation centered on the various animal spirits I'd met, with a game of trying to identify what student was most like a particular animal spirit. Dinner was a lot more pleasant than I'd expected; after the day I'd had, I really had felt rather mopey and down, but my friends put a smile on my face. Sure I still disliked - intently - Ito Soke and Sensei Tolman, algebra, and English sucked, and sure, someone had tried to kill me with an ice projectile, but the evening was ending on an upbeat note.

Evvie and Naomi left a bit early to go to the library, so Laurie and Adrian walked with me back to Poe, even though it was in the wrong direction from their own cottages. I understood why - they'd have some time for a peaceful walk together after dropping me off. I envied them; I would have really liked to walk together with Debra, arm in arm. For now, I'd have to be satisfied spending time with her in dream-walks.

As we walked, I started feeling nervous, and recalling what Mindbird had said at lunch, I quickly and silently cast my shield spell around the three of us. Maybe I was being a bit paranoid, but someone _had_ been paying way too much attention to me, and not in a good way.

About halfway between Melville and Poe, a large glob of slush splattered on my shield, startling the three of us as the sloppy, wet snow slid off my shield to the ground. Another attack? I sighed; Mindbird and the Wild Pack had been correct in their threat assessment; someone was trying to prank me.

"Should we call security?" Laurie asked nervously.

I shrugged. "No need. They're probably on their way here already."

I wasn't off by far. Mindbird walked toward us very deliberately, and a moment later, Stormwolf joined her, holding another student by the arm, quite probably the slush-ball thrower.

"Let's go to security," Mindbird directed.

I shook my head in disbelief. "For a slush-ball, which my shield stopped?"

"It could have been an ice projectile, like earlier today," Stormwolf countered. "This has to be reported, because there's a pattern of harassing you with dangerous attacks."

"Can we just drop it?" I pleaded. "It's not worth any fuss."

"Since you weren't hit," Mindbird said, "you don't have to go to Kane to file a report, but Chief Delarose would really like it." She looked at the perp. "And we don't have a choice with him," she added. "Standing orders; anyone pranking you has to be checked."

"I'd rather just drop it," I said, discounting her peculiar choice of words.

"Are you sure you don't want to file anything on this?"

I sighed. "And have the whole school know that I can't take a failed slush-ball attack without crying to security? Like _that_ would help me socially!"

The rest of the trip to Poe was anti-climactic, with no further incidents, but I felt like a third wheel. I could tell that Adrian and Laurie really wanted to hold hands, or hold each other closer as they walked, but were embarrassed to do so in my presence. And the looks they were exchanging reminded me of the way Julie and I used to glance at each other, suggestive of an urgent need to perform a durability check on her lipstick. I bid them a hasty 'good night' at Poe, so they could more closely study each other as they walked back toward their respective cottages. Actually, I expected that Adrian would walk Laurie back to one of the little sitting areas in the main quad for some extended, um, conversation, before finishing walking her to Whitman, and then, since it was a green-flag day, he'd fly over to Emerson to arrive just before curfew. The little side-trip to Poe - and the security delay - had cost them a few minutes of making-out time, but neither objected, even in their body language to me. That really was touching; I had friends. Real friends. I was choked up when I watched them walk away, Laurie pausing to wave at me, because it hit me quite dramatically that I was developing a sense of my own community, my own circle of friends, just as Tatanka, Pispiza, and Hehaka had been telling me.

Evvie wasn't in our room - I suspected she was either in the library, or in Naomi's room - so I had peace and quiet to study my French. It was difficult to keep the grammatical rules straight between my native English, Lakota, and the new French. More than a few Lakota curses sounded loudly as I struggled to keep the genders straight. More than anything, it was the differences in noun cases, matching the adjective endings, and the order of the words. I dreaded getting to verbs. I remember thinking that the rules in English were bad, but variations based on whether the noun was first, second, or third person, and if it was singular or plural were tricky. It wasn't difficult to memorize the rules; after all, I had an exemplar memory. But it took practice to string things together properly, and my practice sucked. It was just like math - knowing the theory and the rules didn't help unless one practiced applying them.

"Shit!" I cried in frustration - in Lakota - after my latest attempt, in over half an hour of trying to successfully complete the exercises in the book, was as full of errors as my first ones had been. "Why do I have to do this crap now?" My evening was rapidly vanishing, and I was making little progress in catching up with French. If I hadn't had French, I could have been catching up in my other classes.

A disturbance in the hall caught my attention, although at my frustration level, the noise of a butterfly flitting by would have distracted me from the torture that was French. Figuring that taking a break for a couple of minutes would help recharge my brain, I followed the noise down the hall into the common room. I'd been informed that one area of the room was known as Kimba Korner, since the Kimbas hung out there frequently to study. They'd even hung some hammocks and rearranged the furniture so the group had a cozy study space. Originally, it had been a multi-purpose common area with a TV, but now, everyone used the third-floor common area for TV viewing, and the second floor for studying.

Hank was sitting with his girlfriend Wallflower, Jade sprawled in a hammock, while Jinn floated with their roommate Billy Wilson, or Tennyo. Rip, Bunny, and Verdant from our floor were also there, as were a few girls from the third floor. The subject, not surprisingly, wasn't homework.

"It was huge!" Diamante, one of the third-floor girls exclaimed. "I didn't think she could manifest anything that big!"

"Yeah," another third-floor girl agreed. "It almost trampled me. Even my PK shove didn't seem to faze it. It had to be one of Beltane's practical jokes."

"Well, she's gone too far this time!" Verdant declared. "I think we need to report this to Mrs. Horton. That thing was running around like it _wanted_ to trample us!"

I winced; I'd seen a couple of Beltane's pranks, and had heard of many more. She was practically a legend. "What did she do this time?" I asked, trying to sound innocent.

Diamante scowled. "It was that huge white buffalo she had running around the halls, trying to trample everyone yesterday. Haven't you heard about it?"

I positively cringed. "Um, no," I replied cautiously. "I haven't heard anything about Beltane and a buffalo."

Jinn stared directly at me, and I felt like she was seeing my emotions. "What is it, Kayda?" she asked after a moment.

"Uh, what is what?"

"Why are you feeling guilty and embarrassed?" Jinn pressed. All of the girls were staring at me intently.

"Um," I stammered, cringing more. "That wasn't Beltane's manifestation," I said softly.

Diamante frowned. "How do you know?"

I was caught. I sighed; better to get it out now instead of trying to hide the truth which would eventually come out. "Um, because it's _my_ manifestation," I admitted.

"Yours?"

I nodded. "One of my spirits is Tatanka, the white buffalo, and, well, I can manifest him." I saw their looks. "But yesterday, somehow he manifested while I was napping and had a nightmare," I added quickly. "I didn't mean for him to chase anyone around."

"You ... manifest a white buffalo ... when you have nightmares?" Verdant asked carefully. "So, when you have bad dreams, that ... thing is going to chase us all over the place?"

"Thunderstorms and PMS all over again," Hank groaned.

"Can I see?" Jade asked excitedly, hopping down from the hammock. "Please?" She was looking at me with Big Sad Puppy Dog Eyes, a gaze that should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention because it was so devastating as to be irresistible.

The other girls were looking at me fearfully, afraid that I _would_ manifest the white buffalo, which would then chase them around some more.

I thought for a few moments, and then nodded to Jade. A moment later, Tatanka appeared, St. Bernard sized. "This is my buffalo spirit, Tatanka," I introduced him cautiously.

"But ... yesterday, the thing was ginormous!" Bunny declared. "Not like this!"

Jade dashed up and sat on a chair next to Tatanka. "He's so .... kyooot!" she bubbled enthusiastically. "Can I pet him?"

There must have been something about Jade, because Tatanka nuzzled up to her like an overgrown puppy dog, letting her scratch under his chin and behind his ears.

"Isn't he adorable, Bunny? We _have_ to get Kayda on Wondercute! With Lindsay's dragon, and Rythax, he'd be _perfect!"

Bunny scurried over to Tatanka, her eyes beaming at the idea of whatever Wondercute was. But that same idea produced expressions of horror on Hank's and Billie's faces, and looks of utter disbelief from the other girls.

I wasn't sure I liked the sound of something called Wondercute. "Um, I'm ... not really into ... cute," I stammered, hoping to put off the two suddenly-gushing admirers of Tatanka who seemed to want to draft me into something that, judging by the expressions of the others in the room, was disconcerting to the rest of the Poesies. When I declined, the look I saw flit across Billie's face was one of profound relief, which made me wonder exactly what sort of trap I'd just dodged. What kind of monstrosity was Wondercute if it induced that much apprehension?

**********

Black Hills, SD

One man was allowed within two-hundred yards of a very heavily-modified C-130 Hercules transport plane, parked at the end of the Clyde-Ice airfield near Spearfish, South Dakota. The entire airstrip was closed, with military aircraft flying interference to keep all traffic clear, and the perimeter of the small public airfield was guarded by a special unit from the nearby Ellsworth Air Force Base. What was not known to the airmen providing security was that the aircraft was remotely piloted; there were no aircrew aboard. Further, the aircraft was heavily laden with a special explosive device for termination of the flight, or of the aircraft and surrounding area if need be. The officers from Ellsworth had protested the use of their men for a mission so classified that their orders were to simply, 'Cooperate and do whatever you're told.' Such orders didn't usually sit well with O-6 and above officers, but since the orders came directly from the SecDef himself, they saluted like good soldiers, even when the orders said to outfit the security unit for full nuclear conditions.

One curious part of the 'cooperation' was to facilitate two snipers' nests which had good visibility to the runway; each of the two positions was occupied by non-military snipers with .50 caliber Barrett rifles, and each sniper had his rifle trained on the one man approaching the plane. Behind each sniper, a second person in each two-man team crouched, but not in the usual support position. Instead, each had a pistol trained on the sniper's head, and around their necks, the two had electronic devices to initiate detonation of the aircraft's ultra-low yield nuclear device. If it came to it, the airport, the security teams, and some of the surrounding area were sacrificial to protect against what the aircraft carried.

The man approaching the aircraft paused and made some strange, mystical motions, and then resumed approaching the plane. He paused, and the plane's cargo ramp was lowered by remote control from wherever operated the plane. After a deep breath, steeling himself, the man walked into the plane.

Several tense minutes later, a small wheeled transporter trundled down the ramp onto the tarmac, followed by the man with a remote-control unit. Atop the remote-controlled vehicle were two boxy objects. One was coffin-sized and shaped, with mystical writing on the outside of the crate-like box, while the other was significantly larger, and also covered in runes. Also atop the transport was a man lying on his side. He was trussed up in a straitjacket, with shackles on his legs and a hood over his head. Occasionally, his body thrashed a bit, but restrained as it was, the man couldn't move far or fall from the transport.

For fifteen long minutes, the snipers observed, their fingers on their triggers and their scopes trained on the man by the plane, who, for his part, did nothing except watch the trussed-up figure. Finally, a truck slowly rolled down the tarmac, stopping and then backing up to near the plane. A ramp unfolded from the back of the truck, exposing an inside that was, like the plane and the boxes, heavily covered with the mystical figures and etchings. Slowly, carefully, the man piloted the transport up into the truck, and after a few minutes inside, he exited and closed the ramp.

A strange caravan drove from the airport - an SUV with darkened windows, a military armored vehicle, the truck, two more armored vehicles, and another SUV. Overhead, four helicopter gunships kept watch, while even higher, two fighter jets and a heavy bomber flew cover, the bomber with orders to drop its thermonuclear warhead on the convoy without question, if so ordered. A short jaunt east on a strangely silent and closed Interstate highway, followed by a slow, cautious drive down highway 85, through Deadwood and into Lead, to the Homestake Gold Mine complex, and into a non-descript warehouse.

At the base of an enormous elevator, the strange man with the rune-marked clothing piloted the transport into a large corridor. Three new figures, also in rune-marked clothing unfastened the passenger from the transport, and half-dragged, half-carried the man in the strait-jacket down another corridor, while the first man continued to pilot the transport into a second elevator, and down to the lowest level of the Homestake Paranormal Activity Research Complex.

An hour later, Dr. Ernst Schmidt peeled off the last layer of magically-protected clothing, revealing sweat-soaked clothing. He wiped at his brow, trying to keep a little of the sweat from his hair from dripping down his face in what he knew was a losing battle. He looked at the five others in the observation gallery, their faces plastered against the glass window.

"Glad I'm okay, too," he chuckled sarcastically to the group.

One man and an aged Native American woman turned, smiling. "You, we can see every day," Dr. Hazel Two Bears replied, "but _this_! This we don't see every day."

Dr. Schmidt was relieved that his potential doomsday mission had been successful, but there was still something of concern to him. "Del," he started, "How's Roger?"

Del Flannery glanced quickly and nervously at Hazel, and then he winced, shaking his head slowly. Words weren't necessary.

"Let's go to my office," Ernst said suddenly, breaking the gloom. He led the other two out of the viewing gallery and to an elevator, where they silently ascended from the seven-thousand foot Level Ten to the five-thousand foot Level Seven facility. Inside an expansive office, complete with a fake view of an outside spring vista, Del and Hazel flopped heavily into arm chairs, while Ernst opened a cabinet. "I don't know about you, but after _that_, I need a drink. Scotch?"

"Only if it's the good stuff," Hazel said with a slight smile.

Ernst poured three small glasses of the amber beverage, and then joined them in a comfortable armchair, where he took a long, slow sip. "Well, that's over." He took another sip, his head lolled back and staring at the ceiling.

"It was a pretty long four hours," Del agreed.

"You weren't sitting on a nuclear warhead, watching a crate with Class X remains in it," Ernst corrected him, snapping a bit from his frayed nerve. He saw the grimace of contrition from Del and Hazel, and Ernst realized how frazzled he was. "Sorry. You didn't deserve that." He looked at Del. "Well?"

"It's a Mishibijiw, alright," Del replied. "But ... something's not right."

"How so?" Ernst' curiosity was stirred.

"Even _our_ legends and lore tell of People encountering Mishibijiw while traveling, and all accounts are of peaceful meetings. There are no tales of people going mad from seeing or touching a Mishibijiw, or of the Mishibijiw attacking others," Hazel said as she swished her scotch around in her glass, staring absently at it. "With the tribes of the Great Lakes and Northeast, the legends are the same. Mishibijiw is at times very beneficial."

"Not a Class X entity, then?"

"No."

"Then why did the finder go insane? And Roger ,,,?"

Hazel shook her head. "It's almost as if this one was corrupted by something that _is_ Class X," she replied slowly. "Something turned it into a dangerous entity."

Ernst sighed. He hated mysteries. "What can you tell me about it? Any ideas of what killed it?"

"I can't tell for certain without a full autopsy, and there's no way in hell I'm going to touch that thing!" Del said emphatically. "But from what we've seen with the robot, it looks like it has a couple of serious gashes in its hindquarters, and some kind of wound in its chest. And here's the curious thing - it has blood on its claws, probably from whatever it was fighting."

"So - something fought, and killed, a Mishibijiw that was somehow a Class X entity? And that something is still around, somewhere?" Ernst sounded suddenly very nervous.

Hazel and Del nodded in unison. "And it gets worse." Del watched as Ernst's eyes opened wider. "A Mishibijiw is supposed to have copper spikes on its tail. Copper infused with magical power. This one, though, has none."

"Maybe it's a youngster," Ernst speculated.

Del shook his head. "No. Something removed the copper spikes. Probably the same thing that killed it."

"You're just a bucket-load of fun today, aren't you?" Ernst asked sarcastically before he finished his scotch. He closed his eyes for a moment, visualizing himself somewhere - anywhere - but in this forsaken place of the damned. "Okay, Hazel," he said, opening his eyes again, "do we know anyone who's from that area? Preferably a shaman, who can tell us more about the Mishibijiw and anything mystical about where it was found?"

"Yeah, and you let him go back east yesterday, to check with the Iroquois shamans about any recent activity with that thing's siblings."

Ernst's eyes opened wide. "You mean ... Charlie Lodgeman? Totem?"

"Yup. He's a powerful shaman," Hazel stated, "and he's Iroquois."

"Get him here. I don't care what it takes. Get him here as quickly as you can. If possible, I want him here first thing in the morning, even if you have to use a warper or the SkyArrow."

End of Chapter 2

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Kayda 2: Trials of a Warrior

Chapter 3 - Ptan na Ithunkasan

by ElrodW

Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Poe Cottage

I woke up a bit before the alarm clock, when it felt like Tatanka head-butted my brain.

"What the hell?" I snapped.

Tatanka lay on the ground, a smug smile on his face. "It was time for you to awaken, Kayda."

"Yeah, I know!" I protested. "That's why I set my alarm clock, so I'd wake up."

"When your alarm sounds, it wakens your roommate early. That's rude to Evvie."

"You could have nudged me before you knocked my brain halfway down the hall, you big oaf!"

Tatanka chuckled. "I tried. Several times. So I had to give you a harder nudge."

I crawled out of bed wearily, turned off my alarm clock, picked up my things, and slogged toward the showers. As soon as I opened the door, I heard Ayla's and Fey's voices, and I felt my shoulders tense.

Ayla was standing at the mirror flossing, but from where I stood, and from knowledge from my past life, I could see that he was using the mirrors to ogle the girls. I realized that I would have done the same, and I sighed in disgust before I noticed that his robe was tented. I was already halfway in the room, and girls had seen me, so even though I'd started shaking visibly at Ayla's little display, I swallowed hard and forced myself to join the line for the showers, clutching my robe closed in front to ensure that I wasn't giving Ayla - or anyone else, for that matter - a free show, and to hold my hands onto something to try to control the trembling.

Verdant emerged from one shower and started toweling off, so I slipped off my robe and, careful to keep my back to Ayla, I turned on the water and closed the shower door. As the water cascaded over my body, I saw Fey looking at me with an expression that I couldn't read. I scowled back, and then, after catching Ayla's eyes in the mirror, I my ghost-walking spell.  A silver shimmer appeared around everyone else in the room, and I smiled to myself. Let Ayla try to gawk at me, or Fey try to sneer at me; they couldn't see me, and my modesty was protected. I looked down, and saw the rivulets of water running down the form of my hips and legs like a second skin of clear fluid.  I looked up again, and saw Ayla focused into my shower, one eyebrow cocked curiously. I had to fight to keep from laughing aloud at how I'd foiled his roving eyes, even though I felt quite intimidated by thought that he might see an outline of water that wasn't touching me, and thus visible.  I realized that I'd have to experiment with Evvie or someone else I trusted to see what it looked like when I ghost-walked in a shower.  It wouldn't do much good for my privacy if everyone could see a shimmering, watery skin that outlined every curve of my body.

I felt a chill run down my spine when I saw Fey staring at my shower, frowning as she watched the effect of my ghost-walking in the shower. With a shiver coursing up and down my back from her puzzled expression, I finished, having to stop once to tell someone that my shower _was_ occupied, instead of just a shower running in an empty stall. I startled Sharisha pretty badly when I spoke, and a couple of girls giggled, obviously finding my trick cute, but I thought that Fey was still staring unhappily at me.

As soon as I stepped out and took my towel, Fey's eyes narrowed, and she stared at where I had been. When I clutched it, I knew from Wakan Tanka's instruction that the towel joined me in the ghost-walk, and it just 'disappeared' to outside observers.  I moved to one side of the short lines, out of traffic flow, but her gaze stayed fixed on my last known spot. She wiggled her fingers a little bit, incanting some of her magic, and as she released the spell, I staggered as if slapped hard on my chest. Around me, the silver auras had vanished, and girls - and Ayla - were turning to me, surprised by my sudden appearance as my entire ghost-walking spell collapsed.

Rage erupted at her interference with my privacy. "What the fuck is your problem?" I screamed at Fey, who looked a bit surprised at what had happened.

"I didn't mean to ..." she stammered.

"Why can't you leave me alone?" I angrily snatched my toiletries from where I'd set them on a bench, and ran from the bathroom, leaving behind a room full of stunned girls asking themselves what _that_ was all about.

Behind me, as the door shut, I heard Fey and Ayla calling out after me, but I ignored them. I closed the room door a little hard, loud enough to finish awakening Evvie, who was already stirring, and cutting off something that Ayla was trying to say to me in the hallway.

"Morning," she mumbled, her eyes half-open as she fought off residual sleep. "What's going on?"

I was still scowling. "Fucking bitch!" I snarled angrily. "Can't she leave me alone?"

"Who?" Evvie asked, yawning as she stretched sexily.

"The elf bitch!" I snapped back. "Who else?"

Evvie sighed heavily. "What now?"

I flopped down on my chair to finish patting my hair dry. "I used my ghost-walking spell so the pervert couldn't ogle me, but Fey decided it was her right to wipe out my spell - probably just so Ayla could get an eyeful!"

"Kayda, that's not a fair accusation," Evvie said, frowning.

"Oh? So why did she cancel my spell?"

"Maybe it was accidental. Could it be that she was trying to understand what you'd done, because she thought it was a neat trick?"

"Or she doesn't like me and likes endangering and humiliating me!" I retorted angrily.

"Kayda, you're overreacting again," Evvie said cautiously as she wiggled out of her nightie. "You don't know _why_ she did, or even _what_, do you?"

"No, but ...."

"So don't get yourself all worked up before you ask. It might have been a simple mistake on her part," Evvie answered, pulling on her robe. "Since I'm going to shower, I'll see if anyone is talking about what happened, especially Ayla and Fey."

"Don't you dare talk to _her_ about this!" I demanded.

Evvie shook her head. "Kayda, you need to give her a chance and find out what was really going on before you accuse her of malice." She half-closed her eyes, shaking her head sadly. "Let me finish my shower, and then we'll go get some breakfast." With that, she closed the door behind her, leaving me alone to finish my morning routine.

I hadn't yet brushed my teeth - not surprising given my need to make a sudden exit, and I had to blow-dry my hair. I decided to wear it the way I'd seen Wakan Tanka wear her hair so often - parted and gathered and tied in bunches on either side of my face, loose enough that hair draped down in front of my ears almost to the corners of my eyes, accentuating my eyes and cheeks and making my face look more diamond-shaped. Wakan Tanka had to use leather ties, but I had it easier since I could use hair elastics.  I'd gotten a few Lakota-themed hair accessories, so I tied in a pair of leather thongs with small feathers and dangling beads.

I didn't want to wear my uniform, so I pulled on my buckskin dress and my knee-high buckskin boots, lacing them up with leather thongs which criss-crossed around my calves, hugging them tightly. Debra had loved how they looked when I'd first worn them; I smiled to myself at the pleasant memory.

A knock on the door interrupted my application of makeup. I started, wondering who it could be.

"Kayda?" Ayla's muffled voice came through the door. "Can we talk?"

I fought down an unexpected surge of panic. Was that feeling because I'd seen Ayla's ... arousal in the bathroom? Was it too much of a reminder? Or was he delivering some message from Fey? In either case, I wanted nothing whatsoever to do with him or her at that moment. I stood still, trying to be perfectly silent, while inwardly, my paranoia had me believing that my pounding heart could be heard like a beating bass drum.

"Kayda?" Ayla called again, knocking just a little harder. "I'd like to talk with you please."

I stood still, and he knocked once more. Finally, I felt, through the earth and air spirits, that he was moving down the hall again. I finished my makeup, and after looking at my reflection in the mirror, I impulsively took the makeup which the Lakota store in Sioux Falls had sold me as a decent substitute for Lakota face paint, and applied two short vertical rust-colored stripes on each cheek, with a narrow white stripe between them. I wished that I had a camera; I though it looked nice, and that Debra would have liked a picture. Shrugging 'what the hell', I took a quick selfie, and then reached out once more to the air spirit. Sensing no-one in the hallway, I scampered out of my room, letting the door close with a thunk as I scurried down the stairs. The _last_ thing I wanted was another confrontation in the hallway with Fey or with his royal snobiness, Ayla.

There were a few Poesies meandering toward the caf, so, with a worried glance over my shoulder, I walked quickly toward Shuster to put as much distance between the 'terrible two' and myself as I could, and as quickly as I could.

I was approaching Shuster when I realized that Stormwolf, Adam Ironknife, was on an intercept course toward me, a scowl on his face. I sighed; I was in for another ass-chewing about being alone. It was no big deal; I could deal with a little bullying. I _had_ to deal with the bullying and harassment, or they'd think I was an easy target and escalate. "What do you want?" I asked, pre-empting whatever it was he was about to say.

"You aren't supposed to go anywhere without escort," he said, frowning. "You know that." He fell in step beside me for the last twenty meters to the doors into the caf.

"I'm an early riser, and my room-mate wasn't ready. I hate sitting around doing nothing," I said in a half-hearted defense. I knew it wouldn't fly with Stormwolf; I'd learned that he was mister straight-arrow, by-the-book, following every rule precisely. "Especially when I have nine classes," I added, "and don't have time to sit around doing nothing."

Adam shookhis head. "That's not an excuse. I have to report you for this."

"As if that's something new," I muttered. "Go figure - let's make it seven out of seven for having security incidents."

"That's not exactly something to be proud of," Adam said, sounding like he was delivering a warning.

I felt a little mischievous. "Wanna bet that I'm nine for nine by the weekend?"

Adam's frown deepened. "Not funny."

"I think it's a riot," I deadpanned. "Think of it as me doing my part to ensure that security keeps on their toes." We joined the serving line. "Besides, technically I wasn't alone.  There were several other Poesies walking over here, too."

"You weren't exactly in a group, so I wouldn't call that being escorted," Adam countered.

"I thought it was good enough," I countered.

"Are you meeting someone here?"

"Eventually," I replied, enjoying that I was skirting the edge of the rules enough to keep him uncomfortable.

"You're going to get in serious trouble, Kayda," he said as we took trays.

"Eventually," I grinned and changed the subject. "Are you Tilamook? My spirit thinks that you are, because you have the face and height of the Tilamook."

Adam was taken aback by my change of topic. "No," he said cautiously. "I'm ... Ute."

I shrugged. "I guess my spirit was wrong." I couldn't help but grin at that thought. "That'd be a first - and I'll have to remind her about it sometime." I piled some eggs and bacon onto a plate, and added a slice of ham. "Although, I can understand why she thought so. You're tall for a Ute. More like the Pacific northwest tribes."

Adam seemed surprised at my comment. "You seem to know a bit about Native Americans," he observed, careful to keep his expression as neutral as he could.

"Not as much as my spirit," I chuckled. "Of course, she's a bit prejudiced toward the plains tribes." I glanced at his plate; compared to mine, he had a mountain of food. "I suppose you're going to sit with me until my friends arrive, right?"

"That's right."

"You know people are going to talk, don't you?" I said in a hushed voice, eliciting a startled look. As soon as I checked through the register, I strode easily to the group's table and sat down, and was joined moments later by Adam. He'd managed, in the intervening moments, to regain a bit of composure after my teasing.

"Are you planning on joining Mr. Lodgeman's Native American group?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I was thinking about it. What all does the group do?"

"Drumming, dancing. Some of the members are really into making costumes of their nations. Some have a lot of fun with stories and lore - it's kind of a contest to see who can be most dramatic with a legend." From his tone, he obviously wasn't into that aspect of things. "Every once in a while, there's a 'most outrageous legend contest'."

Tatanka snorted derisively. "Made-up stories and tales! Bah! Ask him if they learn things of importance, like warrior skills."

Wakan Tanka sighed, shaking her head. "There's more to life than being a warrior. You should see if the group teaches anything about native foods and medicines, and the shaman practices."

"Hunting skills are important, too," Tatanka added.

"You're assuming that I _want_ to learn such things." Both Tatanka and Wakan Tanka recoiled in horror at my words, which made me laugh. "Got you," I chuckled.

"Anything else? Foods? Medicines or magic? Hunting and fighting skills?" I asked.

Adam looked a little sheepish. "I'm not sure. Probably."

"Probably? Either they do or they don't."

"To be honest," he explained, "with my security duties, I don't go to all of the meetings."

"When are the meetings?" I asked. "Then again," I added quickly, "with my insane class schedule, I probably won't be able to go to the meetings either." I saw his puzzled expression. "They have me in nine classes, including a late evening class in French."

"That _is_ a rather heavy load."

"Yeah. Someone in the administration is trying to screw me over and make sure I don't have time for a social life," I complained, but without as much bitterness as I'd had the preceding two days. I couldn't help but wonder if I was getting used to the insanity, or was just too tired to bitch about it. "When are the meetings?"

"Thursday evenings after dinner. Do you want to come?"

"Can I? I mean, it's not some kind of closed fraternity thing, is it?"

Adam nodded. "It's not like a secret society or anything. Anyone who's registered with a tribe is welcome."

I winced at that. "I don't know if my mom ever registered me. I know Grandmother is enrolled, and by ancestry, I know I'm eligible."

"Based on your appearance," Adam said cautiously, "you're qualified, and you could certainly come as a guest, but you _should_ get registered with your tribe."

I tensed when I saw Team Kimba enter the dining hall, and like most students, they looked around a bit, although for Jade, it was difficult for her to see much since she was so short. Ayla raised an eyebrow when he saw me, and he turned to whisper something to Fey, who also turned to look at me. I could see some unknown expression on her face, but I was too far away to tell if it was annoyance, anger, or something else.

Adam saw where I was looking, and he turned. "Oh, the Kimbas." He shook his head. "They're completely nuts. Oh, and speaking of them, has anyone explained to you about Tennyo and Section 33?"

"Yeah. Mrs. Carson went over that when I got here."

"Good." He saw how Ayla and Fey were looking at me. "What's with them? Did you manage to piss them off somehow?"

"I don't know," I said, continuing to watch as they turned to get something to eat. Evidently, they'd tired of glaring at me, except Jade, who smiled and waved enthusiastically. I turned back to Stormwolf. "You seem pretty proud of your heritage."

"Aren't you?"

I chuckled. "Yes. But until a bit ago, I was only a quarter Lakota."

"You changed to a full-blooded Lakota?"

"Yeah. The Sioux Falls League testing people think it's because of the spirit I have. Since she's Lakota, they figure that she helped _nudge_ my form to something more suitable to her."

"That's a pretty drastic change, isn't it?"

I gave a quick glance toward a table of kids with GSD. "Not as bad as it could have been. You know, the group might have more fun with things like hunting and fighting, and native foods and stuff like that."

"Maybe," Adam said unenthusiastically.

"What would _you_ rather do? Tell stories, or that other stuff?"

"I suppose more variety," Adam admitted. His eyes tracked up, to somewhere over my left shoulder.

"Excuse me," I heard from behind me, and I instantly recognized Ayla's voice.

I didn't bother to even acknowledge Ayla. "I'd like to come to the meeting. It'll depend on whether I can work around my class schedule."

Adam frowned that I was ignoring Ayla. "Yes, Ayla?" he asked.

"Kayda," Ayla began, talking to me, "you were a bit upset this morning. Is everything okay?"

I didn't bother to look at him. "Everything's fine," I said tersely. "Now if you don't mind, I'm talking with Adam about the Native American group." By watching Adam's eyes, I could tell when Ayla had left.

"That was ... different," Adam observed cautiously. He had to know that something was going on, but he didn't say anything.

Fortunately, Evvie showed up right then. "You didn't wait for me, Kayda," she complained as she plopped down beside me, across from Adam, who raised an eyebrow at her comment.

"Yeah, well, things happened." I turned to Adam. "I'm not alone now, so you can go back to your security stuff," I said with a smile, trying not to be snippy or rude. I didn't like him being there, but at least he was more polite than the paid security officers.

Adam rose, taking his tray. "You know the rules, Kayda. Try not to break them so often. And in case you wondered, I have to file a security report." With that, he left, toward the stairs and an upper level, where the rest of his group usually sat.

Moments later, Adrian and Laurie joined us, followed by Vasiliy and finally Naomi. Adrian looked like he was in a pretty foul mood, one that even beat my own grumpiness. "What's up?" Evvie asked him.

Adrian scowled. "My training team broke up," he complained. "So now I'll probably get assigned with a bunch of other random people. Either that, or I won't be doing any training until next term.

"What's with a training team?" I asked, curious but not sure I wanted to know. I realized that Team Kimba must have been one.

"Simple. By the end of your sophomore year, you pretty much have to be on a team, or they assign you to one, so you can get more survival and combat training experience," Adrian said. "And now without a team, I'll get assigned to one at the end of the term."  He sighed.  "The random teams almost _never_ work out well."

"Debra didn't say anything about that," I scowled. I was having enough problems just going to BMA; some kind of training team requirement would be too much for me, especially with my impossible schedule.

"Yeah, well they don't really advertise it," Naomi grumbled. "It's always kind of a rude surprise, like when they pull the MID briefing and requirement on new students just before Thanksgiving."

"At least I won't have to go through _that_," I snorted, "because I've already got one."

"Since you're technically a sophomore based on classes you said you had," Adrian started, and I knew - and dreaded - where he was going, "maybe we could ...."

"No," I answered firmly, frowning. "No way."

"But you've got more real-world combat experience than the rest of us," Adrian protested.

"And I got my ass kicked twice - and they almost killed me. No!"

**********

Billie Wilson drew the short straw to escort me to math class. She tried to draw me out in conversation, probably at Ayla's orders, since she was on his team, but I really didn't want to talk to _anyone_ from Team Kimba. I was still very upset with Fey for what she'd done, and the haughty way she acted like she hadn't done anything wrong. And Ayla had really annoyed me by being so nosy and acting like I was the one who'd goofed; he certainly didn't seem to think that Fey might have crossed any lines. So it was with no regrets that I bade her farewell at the classroom door.

"Um, Kayda?" she asked before leaving, and in a meek, almost embarrassed voice.

"What?" I asked back, a little more tersely than was called for.

"Um," she seemed to recoil from my nasty mood. "Nothing, I guess," she said. "It's just that .... Um, forget it."

"No, what?" I asked her again. If I was somehow intimidating a Section 33, then maybe I was in too foul a mood. I thought of what Jackie had told me the day before. I needed to do some attitude adjustment. "Is there something you want to ask me?" I tried hard to make it sound polite and sincere.

"Someone said that you're kind of a math whiz," she said softly. "Like you're doing college-level math."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you think that maybe you could help me?" she blurted out. "Math is my weakest subject, and sometimes, I just don't understand things."

"Oh. Um, yeah. I can try to help. But I have a very full class load," I cautioned her. "So we'll probably have to schedule something. Let me know, or leave a note on my door."

"Okay," she said, smiling again. "Thanks." She floated off toward her own class, leaving me shaking my head.

Damn, I swore to myself. I'd been such an ass, so focused on my own issues that I'd nearly scared her away from asking for help in my favorite subject -and I'd always loved helping people in math. At least when I tried, I was more cordial and polite, and she felt able to ask for help. I turned and went into the classroom, slogging into my seat and trying to ignore all those around me.

I wasn't surprised when Ms. Bell handed out a test; she'd warned the class the day before. I was surprised, though, when she didn't give me one. Instead, after the other students began, she came to me with a test and told me to do what I could. I groaned, thinking that I was getting babied because I was late, and the other students, who _had_ noticed would be merciless in their teasing. As I looked at the test, though, my eyes widened. I looked up to her, and she gave me a sort-of smile.

I zipped through the Calc 1 problems like I was reciting the alphabet, and had no problems with the trigonometry or matrices problems either. With more than half the class period left, I handed the test to the teacher. "What ...?" I started to ask in a hushed voice.

"Dr. Quintain suggested, very strongly, I might add, that we do an evaluation of your math skills. Given what you said yesterday, I agreed. If you pass this, we'll look at options for math classes and electives. There's no sense in wasting your time taking algebra if you can do calculus and other advanced math."

"I'll pass," I said confidently. "Thanks." I practically floated out of the classroom, a huge grin on my face. I called Poe, and had to wait for an escort, but I didn't mind.

When Rosalyn showed up, I was still on cloud nine. She looked at me, and smiled. "You're in a good mood."

"I had a test in math," I answered.

"And you're happy?" She shook her head. "You're weird."

"It seemed like a placement test.  It's probably too early to celebrate, but maybe, just maybe, they'll realize that I _do_ know algebra, and I'll get out of that class, and get to reduce my class load."

"And then you'll want to celebrate, right?" Rosalyn said hopefully, wiggling her eyebrows in a suggestive way. "Like maybe coming to our hot tub party?"

"You're never going to give up, are you?" I groaned.

Rosalyn smiled. "Nope. I'm going to call Debra," she threatened.

I felt a smug smile creep across my features. "Go ahead," I dared her. "Last night, I told her about your nefarious plot."

"Oohhh," Rosalyn said, completely unflustered. "I bet she fondly remembers her hot tub parties, and encouraged you to go."

I goggled at her, absolutely flabbergasted at how unfazed she was. "She ... did mention that they were ... fun."

Rosalyn laughed. "That's one way to describe them. So how about it? Are you interested?"

I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, but I'm a one-woman woman, and my woman is Debra."

"You haven't had any ... experience yet, though," Rosalyn continued without pausing. "You might want to do a little comparison shopping."

"Not going to happen," I replied smugly.

"From what you said, you haven't had a chance to experience ... the joys and delights of the sisterhood. The offer for remedial class is open.  With a little instruction, you can always ... surprise her."

I had to chuckle as I shook my head. "You're bad."

"Sometimes. And sometimes I'm really, really good," she said, licking her lips seductively.

"Tell you what," I offered. "If I do decide I need _more_ experience, I'll let you know."

"It's a deal.  Er, wait. _More_ experience?" Rosalyn's jaw dropped. "But you said ... you hadn't ... um ...."

It was my turn to have a laugh. "Oh, didn't I tell you? We've been ... very close lately."

"But ... you're here, and she's there!" Rosalyn jawed. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Did I ever tell you about the Native American talent for dream walking? We've dream-walked together a lot.  Including ...." I couldn't help but blush.

Rosalyn was so stunned that she halted mid-stride, her mouth agape and her eyes wide open. "You've ...?"

I grinned. "So you're a little late with your offer. Thanks anyway."

"But ... that was just a dream!" she stammered, trying to figure out how she'd been bested in our little verbal jousting.

"Yeah," I purred. "And more. Much, much more."

**********

Mrs. Hawkins looked as inflexible and inscrutable as she'd been the last time, but she seemed a lot less snooty. "Why would you like to withdraw from Basic Martial Arts?" she asked bluntly.

"Um," I winced inwardly, hoping it didn't show to her, "I ... I don't know anything, and I'm too far behind. I ... I don't think I can catch up."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Hawkins rebutted. "We have students come much later than you, and they have no difficulties."

"I ... I don't know how to fight," I continued softly. "It's ... it's useless to try."

She lifted a file and examined it. "Um, hmm," she muttered to herself before putting the folder back on her desk. "I see. Miss Franks," she began, "your file indicates that you were the subject of two rather ... brutal attacks."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, shaken that such information was in my file.

"As a result of those attacks, your parents indicated that you were to be instructed in the arts of self-defense. Their desire is noted in your file."

I frowned, not liking what she'd just told me. "I'll talk to them about this."

Mrs. Hawkins pushed her desk phone across to me. "Please do. I would hate to have any misunderstandings continue for even a moment longer than necessary."

I looked at her for a few long seconds, trying to read her poker face. Was she hoping to intimidate me into continuing the class? I picked up the phone, deciding to call her bluff, and I dialed my home. As it rang, Mrs. Hawkins reached over and pressed the 'speaker' button, so she could hear the conversation as well.

On the third ring, Mom answered it. "Good morning," she sang cheerily, as she always did. "Franks residence."

"Hi, Mom," I replied.

"Oh, hi, sweetie," she cooed. "There's nothing wrong, is there? Aren't you supposed to be in classes now?" Typical of Mom to immediately worry.

"No, Mom," I said to reassure her, "there's nothing wrong. Well, except a little problem with my classes."

"Oh? Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need me to speak to someone?"

"I'm in my advisor's office, on speakerphone, Mom," I explained quickly. "There's a little misunderstanding that I need you to clear up."

"What's that, sweetie?"

I hated her calling me sweetie, but I knew I'd never stop her from doing that. "Um, they put me in a martial arts class ...."

"Oh, that's good. Your father and I worried so much about you. We were hoping that there would be a good class to teach you self-defense, and ...."

"Mom, I don't want to _be_ in the class!" I interrupted her.

"Why, dear? Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, there's a problem," I said, scowling. "The instructors are ... not very nice!" I grumbled. "They humiliated me, for no reason. And then they shoved me to one side so I can't participate, like I totally don't belong!" I fought to control a mix of tears from how I'd been embarrassed and anger at the two senseis. "I have a lot of other classes that I _have_ to take, and that class is interfering. It's ...."

"Is that the class that Debra told us about? That's the one I was hoping they'd put you in."

"Yes, Mom," I sighed, "but Debra didn't mention that the instructors were so ... nasty!"

"Well, dear," Mom said after a brief pause, "we talked with Debra, and we really want you in the best class they have. Debra speaks so highly of that Mister Ito that I was really, really hoping you'd have him as an instructor."

"Mom, I don't want to take that class!" I argued.

"Honey, I know you might not like it, but we have to do what's best for you, and that's what both Debra and that nice Mrs. Carson recommended."

"You're paying for me to be treated like ..." I caught myself, "like crap?"

"We want you to give the class a chance, dear," Mom continued, unfazed by my entreaties. "If you don't like it this term, you can take something else next term."

"I ... I could take survival," I protested.  "That teaches how to get out of bad situations.

"Kayda," Mom said sternly, "you have to learn something to protect yourself. You know what your Dad says."

"It's best to avoid a fight, but sometimes, when you can't avoid it, you need to know how to fight to win," I repeated Dad's philosophy.

"We couldn't live with ourselves if we let you slide by, and then something happened to you."

Damn. My one weakness - Mom pulled out the guilt. "No, Mom," I mumbled.

"Okay. Now is there anything else?" she asked cheerfully. "It _is_ class-time there, so you probably can't talk long."

I saw Mrs. Hawkins reaching out toward the phone to end the call, a knowing smile on her face. "No, I can't. But while I've got you here, can you have Grandma Little Doe get me more medicinal herbs? Especially the ones for the tea she knows I like? A lot, too."

"Okay."

"And can you send me a jar or two of chokecherry jelly? I really, really miss it."

"I'll get it in the mail tomorrow."

"We're sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs. Franks," Mrs. Hawkins said. "We have to get Kayda to her next class now."

"Okay. Take care of yourself, dear. Goodbye," she said before hanging up.

Mrs. Hawkins slid the phone back to its proper place, taking an extra moment to ensure that it was very precisely positioned, and then she looked back at me. "Now that we have _that_ issue clarified," she said pleasantly, "is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"No," I mumbled, my good mood from math now completely ruined. "Since you won't listen to me about math and English," I added under my breath softly so she wouldn't hear.

"Very well.  Miss Franks, the martial arts class _is_ in your best interest, even if you don’t understand it.  All of your classes have been selected based on the transcripts the administration gave me, and with Ms. Hartford's help, I selected a curriculum that will help you catch up to the other students, especially in the areas relating to your mutant powers.  Now, if you have no further questions, Miss Franks," she said, "I have other work I must attend to.  You know where my office is if you have any further difficulties."

**********

The locker room was noisy, as expected, as all the girls changed for martial arts. I sat as far to one side as I could, elbows on my knees, looking down at the floor. Beside me on the bench was my gi, still in its package. Occasionally, one of the girls would glance my way, and I heard some hushed voices during lulls in the otherwise jocular and boisterous conversation, probably talking about me. For the most part, though, they ignored me, which was fine with me. After yesterday's little ... event, I really didn't want to go out in that class, if only because I knew that my fit had been way over the top. Even if Ito and Tolman had been rude, my own behavior was nothing to be proud of.  Maka had been right, and I'd ignored his lesson.  Now I had my shame to show for it.

I hated the situation I'd gotten myself into. Even without being lectured by Tatanka or Wakan Tanka, I knew that I'd brought it on myself. I could have retreated into my dream-world, safe from students and instructors, but my two spirits would have nagged at me for what I'd done, and told me to go face the consequences. Great - Pinnochio had only Jiminy Cricket as a conscience. I had my own, plus the two spirits in my head, so when I messed up, I was going to get no peace of mind - which was exactly the situation I found myself in.

I sensed a girl coming toward me. Even my senses were nagging me, it seemed.

"Hah," the girl said in probably the thickest Southern accent I'd ever heard, almost stereotypically so.

I looked up at the girl, who was tall and slender, with long brown hair held back in a ponytail. Her gi was a bit baggy, probably too big for her, but she didn't seem to notice or care.

"Y'all better get dressed and out on the mat so ya don't get in trouble."

"I'd rather not," I said morosely. "Not after yesterday."

"We all have our days," she said, grinning. "Even if it ain't true, just claim y'all are havin' PMS. All the girls'll understand, and there ain't a guy alive who'd dare say a word about it!" She stuck out her hand towards me. "Ah'm Alicia. Alicia Thacker. Ah'm from Loosiana."

I took her hand. "Kayda Franks." I almost chuckled at the carefree way she'd offered me an out. At least the frown vanished - a little bit.

"Are y'all that gal with the buffalo?" she asked bluntly as she picked up my gi off the bench and handed it to me.

"Yeah, that's me," I groaned. "Some people started calling me Buffalo Gal."

"Ah take it ya don't like that," Alicia said.

"Not particularly, no." I just sat, staring at my gi.

"If y'all don't like martial arts, what are ya doin' in this class?" Alicia asked the obvious.

"My parents are making me take this, 'cause I got beat up pretty badly - twice. They think I should know how to defend myself."

"Sounds reasonable, if ya ask me."

"Except when your instructors treat you like shit," I muttered. "Chewing me out without even asking my name? Pushing me to one side and ignoring me for the rest of class?" I shook my head, staring at the floor. "I don't see how I can learn anything if they treat me like that. And I don't see why I should have to put up with that crap."

"Ya'll learn more watchin' than y'all will just sittin' in here," Alicia observed. "Ah gotta get mahself out t' the mat so Ah don't get in trouble. Nice meetin' ya." She turned and quick-stepped out of the locker room, leaving me all alone, sitting on the bench, with my gi in hand.

I could just sit here for the rest of the term, not bothering to attend class. So I'd get an F. Better than being humiliated every day.

Not more than two minutes later, Sensei Tolman charged into the locker room, paused to look around, and then made a beeline for me. "Get dressed and get out to the mat."

I looked back down at the floor, shaking my head. "I don't want this stupid class," I mumbled.

Sensei Tolman sat down beside me. "I talked with Dr. Bellows and with your advisor. You aren't going to be allowed to drop, so put on your gi and go out to the mat."

"No," I said curtly. "There's no law that says I can't sit out the class."

"Except that you'll fail," Tolman countered. "Or you'll get to have a chat with the administration about disciplinary detention. Or both.  Or even expulsion.  It's your choice."

Seeing that she wasn't budging, but was serious about me going to either detention or to the mat, I grumbled as I pulled off my dress and put on my gi, then followed Sensei Tolman out to the gym.

I could almost feel the stares directed my way from the other students, and despite the fact that Sensei Ito was watching two students sparring, I could hear the murmurs of the other students talking about me. I felt like I was on display, and not favorably so, which didn't help my mood at all.

Sensei Tolman picked another student, who I'd seen with the advanced group the previous day, and took me to one side. "I want you to try to defend yourself, and to attack - slowly, so I can see what you know and how you move."

"I don't know anything about fighting," I countered.

"Do your best," Tolman told me. "The round ends when you can't fight, in which case you slap the mat to indicate that you were defeated, or when you are thrown from the ring. Bow to your opponent," she said, and I followed instructions. "Hajime.  Begin."

My opponent was in some kind of fighting stance, but I didn't move. I didn't see any point. He moved warily, closing on me, looking cautious but confident. I raised my hands in what I thought was a defensive position, but in a blur of motion, he turned, bending at the waist, and shot his right foot into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me and sending me flying from the ring to land awkwardly and painfully.

Surprisingly, he looked disappointed that he'd so easily won the round; I suspected that he was fond of fighting and wanted a challenge. Well, it was too bad for him, because I had no fighting skills, and was so outclassed that it wasn't even funny.

"Again," Tolman said curtly. She showed me a stance that would help my balance, and would have my body positioned to ward off an attack. It didn't help at all; I was thrown violently to the mat again, this time landing painfully on my shoulder.

"This time, attack him, Kayda."

I levered myself off the mat and walked back to the ring, only too aware that many of the students were watching me instead of watching Ito. That made me even more self-conscious, and I really regretted coming out to the mat.

Once more, Sensei Tolman had us bow, but this time, she admonished me to not take my eyes off my opponent when bowing. When she said begin, my opponent moved into his stance and then began to close on me. I clumsily imitated how he was standing and moved toward the center of the mat, if for no other reason than it would be a tiny bit more difficult for him to force me out of the ring. When I was close enough, I threw a punch as hard as I could, straight for his chin.

The next few milliseconds were a blur because everything happened so fast. He blocked my punch easily, elbowing me painfully in the ribs as my momentum carried me past him, and then, somehow, still turning, he delivered a high round kick to the side of my head. The world exploded in a brilliant cascade of stars and colors to go with the pain.

A fist slammed into my ribs, and another one hit my cheek. Blow after blow smashed into my body as I was held, helpless against the brutal onslaught. I could hear a rib crack as one fist slammed into my side, and my kidney ached terribly. Someone sounding far off was screaming in pain, interspersed with pleas for the attackers to stop.

"Hey, Brandon's turned into a girl! Let's screw her!" I heard a voice laughing lustfully at me as hands pawed at my body.

More fists and feet smashed into me, even as hands tore at my clothing. Someone kicked me in the side - hard - and I nearly retched. I was surprised to find that I was the one crying and whimpering under the non-stop rain of blows.

"Don't kill her yet. Let's have some fun with her first," one of the guys laughed. Through it all, no matter how I cried or pleaded, the blows continued to pummel my already battered body.

**********

Laird Hall

"Kayda?" I heard Sensei Tolman's voice calling to me, pulling me back from my recurring nightmare. "Kayda, can you hear me?"

I tried to roll over, but that just pointed out another part of my body that hurt. "Uhnnn," I groaned. My cheeks were wet, and I was trembling.  I felt hands helping me sit up, and I fought another surge of panic as I tried desperately to push them away.

"Kayda, it's me, Alicia. Let me help ya sit up."

It took a second for her name to register. "Uh huh," I said, wincing. My ribs hurt badly, and my head was throbbing with pain.

"Back to your places on the mat," I heard Ito bark. "You aren't excused from instruction." The small cluster of students who'd gathered around me went grudgingly back to the edge of the mat into their seiza positions, and he moved to keep their attention away from me.

Sensei Tolman squatted down beside me. "Are you okay?" she asked. Despite my thoughts that she was a complete bitch, I noticed concern in her voice.

"Uh, yeah, I think so. What happened? Why ... why were they all around me?" I was afraid that I knew the answer, but I had to confirm my suspicions.

"You tell me," Sensei said. "You hit pretty hard, and then you curled up in a fetal position and were crying and screaming 'no'. For a few minutes, you weren't responsive at all."

"Uh," I stammered, "I ... I don't know," I lied. I didn't want even more people knowing the ugly truth.

"You didn't even try to fight the first two rounds," she said, her voice a little cautious. "Why not?"

"There's no point," I grumbled in a resigned voice. "Didn't you see?"

"That's what we're here to teach you," she countered. "To defend yourself."

"It's not worth it." I shook my head, wincing at the pain that accompanied even that small motion. "All it does is piss them off, and makes the beatings and other stuff worse." I let my voice trail off; I'd said far more than I should have.

Sensei frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing." I decided to clam up.

"I can look in your file if I need to," she cautioned me, "and it looks like I need to, unless you tell me what happened."

"My ... former friends tried to kill me after I manifested," I spat bitterly. "Twice. They beat the crap out of me.  They almost killed me."

"Then you need to learn to defend yourself."

"It wouldn't help. There are always more of them, and they'll just keep on ...."

"What do you mean by 'and other stuff'?" she continued to question me.

"Nothing," I lied again. I didn't want to be interrogated. "Dr. Bellows says I have PTSD from ... that," I continued, hoping to give her a reason to let me drop, or to at least stop questioning me.

Tolman looked at me evenly for several seconds before she stood. "Charge, Headrush, Murphy, Rip, Flex!" she called out. Immediately five girls around Ito sprang to their feet and ran to where Tolman and I were, including Alicia, who'd introduced herself in the locker room, and Riptide, who I recognized from Poe.

"Yes, Sensei?" Alicia asked, a little too eagerly.

"When you girls are working with basic instruction, I want you to group with Kayda. Since she's totally inexperienced, she'll need help with the basics. When we're practicing basics, you'll team up in teams of two, so one of you can help instruct Kayda, while the other two pairs work together. You'll rotate partners every four or five minutes, so you will all get time to work on current stuff, and time to help Kayda catch up. Got it?"

"Yes, Sensei!" the girls replied sharply.

"Okay, go back to Ito Soke for the rest of today's instruction." As the girls hurried off, Tolman stretched out her hand and tugged me to my feet. "We'll work on some basics, like falling so you don't hurt yourself."

"I suppose," I agreed reluctantly. "But it's a waste of time. I don't have any powers that are useful for fighting."

"You don't need powers to fight effectively," Tolman countered. "Ito Soke is a baseline, but he routinely takes out two or three students using their powers. It's not about fighting with power, but about fighting smart."

"But ... you saw. I'm small, and I don't have the strength ...." I tailed off on that; as an exemplar, I _did_ have strength. I'd forgotten about that. But compared to the other students, I was a weakling.

"Why are you so negative about learning to defend yourself?" she asked me bluntly.

I inadvertently glanced at the other students, to see who might be listening in. Sensei noticed.

"You took a couple of hard falls. I think you're done for the day. Let me take you to the locker room so you can change." Once we were inside, behind a closed door, Sensei Tolman sat down on a bench and gestured for me to do the same on a bench opposite her. "Okay, let's talk. Why are you so negative about martial arts?"

"I don't see how it could help," I answered softly, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, my hands together, and staring at my hands.

"You were severely beaten twice. You could have fought back and possibly stopped it."

I shook my head, snorting derisively. "You don't know my hometown. All that would have happened is that the corrupt police would have arrested _me_ for assault, and then let the Humanity First! fanatics or the MCO have me. It would have ended the same, or worse. If I'd have fought back, they wouldn't have stopped until they were _sure_ that I was dead."

"Perhaps. We'll never know. But you can be prepared for the future," she suggested.

"I could have gotten along with survival instead of this."

"After watching you go nearly catatonic for a few minutes, and thinking about what you said, the 'other stuff', I have to ask if you were ... sexually assaulted?"

I bit my lip, fighting to not slip back into an episode and to not cry. I shook my head in denial.

"Kayda," Sensei Tolman said, lifting my chin so I was looking her eye-to-eye. "Were you ... assaulted?"

Slowly, unsure of whether I could keep emotion out of my voice if I spoke, I nodded, dropping my gaze back to the floor.

"I see."

"I ... have to see Dr. Bellows daily, because I've got PTSD. And ... I'm on a watch."

"Suicide watch?"

"Yeah." I sighed. "It won't help. Martial arts, I mean. I'll just have flashbacks, and freak out, and ... I won't be able to fight."

Tatanka shambled up to where I sat in the mountain meadow, my knees drawn up and my arms crossed atop them. "You have questions, Wihakayda," he said, certain that he knew what I was thinking.

"I ... I don't want to take this class, Tatanka," I said softly.

"Why not?"

I sighed, not looking at the big lug. "The instructors aren't very nice, and I don't know anything about fighting."

"It would help if you didn't have a negative attitude when you went to class," Tatanka said. He started across the meadow. "Come, Wihakayda." He started off into the woods without waiting for me.

"Who this time?" I asked as I followed the white buffalo. He didn't answer, but led me deeper into the woods. He stopped by a tree, so I stopped beside him.

"That's Pahi, the porcupine," Tatanka said.

"Why are you introducing me to him?"

"I'm just showing you Pahi now.  All you need to do is to look at him and understand his nature."

I frowned. "What's that, besides the fact that he's got a back full of quills?" I asked sarcastically.

"Kayda, you need to calm yourself. Pahi is good at defending himself. He's equipped to keep himself safe. Notice that he's not aggressive, but pretty shy, and he doesn't start fights. But if an enemy decides to attack him, he is prepared."

I glared at the white bison. "I think you're trying to give me a message."

"And what message do you think that might be?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.

"That I need to be prepared to defend myself," I grumbled.

"Very good, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said as she came up behind me. "You have an opportunity to learn, so you must take it."

"Or would you rather have to defend yourself and Cornflower without knowing how?" Tatanka asked rhetorically. He _knew_ the answer - I'd fight to the death to defend her. I already almost had.

"Kayda," Sensei Tolman said again, concerned that I'd spaced out for a few moments. "Kayda," she said again to get my attention.

"Sorry," I answered softly. "My ... spirits ... wanted to talk to me."

She waited until I looked up at her. "I suspected what you just admitted. You've got a lot to deal with. Nobody can change the past, but we can help you _avoid_ such situations in the future. You have to _want_ to learn."

I wasn't sure if I believed her. "But ... my PTSD episodes ...."

"Why do you think I have you working with a group of girls for now?"

"But ... one against twelve? Eight of them from the football team?" I shook my head in disbelief that basic martial arts could have helped.

"It's not the number of opponents," Sensei Tolman said with a wry smile. "It's the skill of the fighters. If they're unskilled, and you know martial arts well and you want to survive the fight, you'll come out on top. The question is whether you want to try?"

"But ... when I have to fight ... boys ...." I said, shuddering involuntarily at the thought.

"We'll work up to that, with advice from Dr. Bellows," Tolman assured me.

I looked at her for several seconds before I nodded.  "Okay."

She stood up. "Are you feeling good enough to start learning, or do you need to recuperate a bit from your sparring today? There's still twenty minutes of class time."

I looked at her, considering. "I might as well use the time," I answered softly.

**********

Kirby Hall

I beat Ayla and Fey to magic class, so I sat down away from them, deliberately sitting next to Tansy's seat. When she came in, she eyed me critically, all but verbally asking what the hell I was doing next to her spot. "Morning," I said.

Tansy sat down, still eyeing me and not sure how to reply. She ended up saying nothing, but continued to watch me warily, with a thoroughly unpleasant expression.

When Ayla walked in with Fey, the two paused in the doorway to look around, and when they spotted me, they both frowned deeply. Fey's look of disapproval was almost to the point of an evil glare, and I returned a sneer, so she'd know what I thought of her haughty airs and her rude actions.

Tansy watched the entire silent exchange, one eyebrow raised. "Interesting," she muttered to herself. I heard, but chose to ignore her observation. "Good morning," she then said to me sweetly. "Nice day, isn't it?" Her attempt at small talk was forced, but my very blatant disagreement with Ayla and Fey had piqued her interest

"Only when people aren't stabbing you in the back," I replied without emotion.

Tansy's eyebrows rose. "I thought all you crazy Poe residents stuck together."

I snorted."Yeah, that's what I heard, too. Turns out it's not true."

I had her attention; besides Ayla's warning that Tansy was a bitch, there was more to their interactions and relationships, and my annoyance at the two TK members was of great interest to Tansy. I'd have to ask around to find out the background. At the very least, there was someone who was _not_ a Kimba that I might be able to talk with.

Ms. Grimes entered the room, and we began our magic lesson. Through it all, though, Fey just glowered at me, and between Ayla's sideways glances, Fey's stare of displeasure, and Tansy's occasional peeks at me with obvious delight that there was friction amongst us, I was distracted from the lesson. I wasn't very participatory, and when a student did a demonstration, I completely missed it.

"Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said urgently to me, "you aren't paying attention to your teacher."

"Yes, I am," I protested immediately. "I read what the lesson is about."

"Do you have any idea of what spell the other student just did?"

"Uh," I stammered, "no," I admitted. "But I was distracted by Fey and Ayla!"

Wakan Tanka shook her head. "That's not an excuse. Your task when you are with an instructor is to learn, not to fixate on disputes with other students."

Chastened, I focused on the rest of the class. Once class ended, I hurried out of the building, looking for Irene for another 'escort' to the caf. Unfortunately, Irene came out with Ayla and Fey, all of them looking a little upset - probably with me. I sighed and turned down the walkway, ignoring once again the orders for not being alone.

As Tatanka had instructed me, I took time to listen to the air and earth spirits, to help me be more aware of my surroundings.  When something disturbed the air spirit, I hastily incanted my shield spell. A few seconds later, there was a whoosh of something running past me, and a large slushy, muddy mess splattered on the shield. I sighed, and, ignoring the entire incident, continued walking. Moments later, though, almost as expected, Thunderfox jogged to my side, while another member of the Wild Pack, one I hadn't yet met, dropped from the sky in front of me.

"Are you okay?" Thunderfox asked in a commanding voice. Around us, students walked while watching us with amusement and interest.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said with a shrug. "I had my shield spell active, so it didn't even hit."

"Where's your escort?" the unknown guy asked bluntly. He struck me as being as much of a rules-facist as Adam.

I shrugged again. "They didn't show, so I just used my shield spell to protect me." I frowned. "Who are you?"

"Firecat," the guy said simply.

"Sounds like a damned cartoon character," I muttered.

Thunderfox ignored my comment, narrowing her eyes, and looking down the path. I followed her gaze, and saw Fey and Ayla walking toward us. "Oh?" she asked. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to the caf, to meet my friends for lunch."

"Sorry," the guy said. "We have to file a report on this because you had an incident and you're unescorted."

I sighed with frustration. "Nope," I replied. "Nothing happened to me, and I'm hungry."

"That's twice today you've been without your escort," Thunderfox said, frowning, "that we know of. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Not deliberately," I said with a shrug, "but some people here seem to have other ideas.  So it really doesn't matter, does it?"

"It _does_ matter," Firecat said sternly. "You've got to follow the rules for your own safety."

"Will you stop by security after lunch to fill out the report?" Thunderfox asked, trying to get to a workable compromise.

"I suppose," I replied. "Now can I go get some lunch?"

Thunderfox fell in at my side. "Now you can. Unless you want to wait for your friends from Poe."

I frowned. "Let's go," I said, starting to walk quickly. I had no desire to wait for Ayla and Fey.

**********

Crystal Hall

I was just about to make tea to go with my lunch when Irene came to the table with two young girls, one on either side. "Hi," she said cheerfully. "You promised you'd show me how to make your magic tea."

I glanced around the table at my friends. Laurie and Naomi were chuckling, and Evvie was just shaking her head. Vasiliy was a bit confused, and Adrian just shrugged. "I suppose I can do that now."

"Ahem." We all turned to see Mindbird staring unhappily at me and the three girls. "Are these three bothering you?" She gestured at the three girls.

I shook my head, smiling. "No. I _did_ promise Irene ...."

"Palantir," Irene interrupted. "That's my code name. It's pretty cool, isn't it?"

"And I'm Clover," one of Irene's buddies said. "Pally, you said it would be easy to get the essence!"

"Yeah, Pally," the other whined. "You didn't tell us that security would be here."

"Don't call me that!" Irene said with a huge frown. She looked back at me, then at Mindbird, before looking back at me, doing her best sad puppy-dog eyes. "You did promise," she whined.

Mindbird sighed. "Is this more of your magic tea?"

I nodded, and pulled Ms. Grimes' note from my backpack, anticipating her next question. "Here."

Mindbird read it quickly. "I see. Okay, I guess it's up to you to deal with any crowds you draw, then."

I put the letter back in my bag, and then took out supplies. "Who wants some?" The guys didn't care for any, but the girls naturally wanted some. I glanced up at Mindbird. "Would you like some, now that you know it's safe?"

"No thanks," she replied.

"You _do_ look kind of tense. It'll help you relax a bit," I suggested. When she didn't answer, I sent Palantir and her friends for some cups of water while I began to prepare. It didn't take long for me to chant, completely from memory now since I'd cast the spell so frequently, and within a couple of minutes, I had four cups of hot herbal tea.

Naomi, Evvie, and Laurie knew what to expect, but Mindbird seemed hesitant. She let the aroma waft across her nose, and she seemed enticed by the smell. When she took a sip, her expression changed from cautious to looking quite content. "Mmm," she said, exhaling slowly. "This is good. And it feels like someone massaged my neck and shoulders."

"Told you so," Evvie said with a grin, sipping her own tea.

As the others chatted away over tea and their lunches, the three middle-school girls returned and sat down at the table. Both of the newcomers were complaining that I wasn't going to teach _them_ how to make tea, or to make some for them. I didn't change my mind, though; I'd been warned about how overly-enthusiastic and reckless the three little witches, as they'd been called, could get. I was actually starting to have second thoughts about teaching Irene, but a promise was a promise.

"Okay, you should take notes, or have one of your friends take notes," I told Irene. First, I went through the ingredients, making sure that the one that the two little witches called Abracadabra wrote down the list, and then I instructed her in how to assemble the tea, including going over the ritualistic chants a few times so she had them straight. Finally, I demonstrated by making my own tea, and the girls ooh'd and aah'd when the spell was complete and there was a small flash in the cup. I took a sip of the now-hot liquid, feeling the soothing effect flow through my body, easing tensions that I wasn't aware of.

"Your turn," I said with a smile to Irene.

Showing her uncertainty, she focused on the cup, picked up the first ingredient, crushed in between her fingers over the cup while she awkwardly chanted the first few lines. She repeated the process for all six ingredients, and at the end, when she finished the final chant, there was a small twinkle within the fluid.

"It didn't flash like it did in your cup," Irene complained. She picked up the cup. "And it's only a little warm."

"That was the natural magic infusing the tea," I explained to her.

"But ... it's cold! Not like yours."

"Because you need a little bit of what Ms. Grimes calls essence to make it work all the way."

Irene frowned. "Well, that stinks."

"Try it," I urged her.

She glared at the tea for a few seconds, but then picked it up and took a sip. "It tastes funny," she said with a frown, but then her expression eased. "It feels ... warm inside a little bit." Her eyes widened some. "And ... there's a little bit of essence!" she said with a grin. "I feel a little magic from it!" She was practically giddy, almost jumping up and down with excitement. "I want some more. Can you get me the ingredients? Please, please, please?"

"Let me try," Clover said, trying to take the tea. Abracadabra reached for it as well, but Clover took a drink. She frowned a moment later. "I don't feel anything," she complained. "Are you sure there was something there, Pally?" she asked skeptically.

"I felt it. I know I felt some essence," Irene countered sharply, "and don't call me that."

"You have a list of the ingredients," I told Irene. "If they don't have them in the bookstore, you can order them."

"Can you give me some? Please?" she begged, trying puppy-dog eyes on me once more.

Fortunately for me, she wasn't very good at puppy-dog eyes. "No, because I'm getting low."

"If you get some more ...?" she started to ask.

I chuckled. She might be a little operator, but I had the upper hand, at least right now. "Depends. Maybe we can help each other out."

The three little witches scurried off, probably heading to the bookstore to see if they could buy the supplies.

"It's probably not a good idea to help her get any more magic than she already has," a voice sounded from behind me.

I stiffened at recognizing Ayla's voice. "I made a promise," I said, trying to keep even the faintest trace of emotion out of my voice, despite the fact that his presence had ruined the calm I'd had from my tea.

"Those three could create a lot of mischief if you give them essence," Ayla said cautiously.

"I didn't give her any," I countered. "Anything she got came from the natural magic of the ingredients, and the chants focused her own magic into the brew."

Ayla glanced at the seat opposite me. "May I?"

I shrugged noncommittally. "I don't see anyone sitting there."

Ayla sat down. "I have the distinct impression that something is bothering you," he began.

Evvie gave me a strange look, probably unseen by Ayla. I think she was trying to send me a signal that I should talk to find out what was going on and quit over-reacting.

I shrugged. "Nothing more than normal," I answered in as neutral a tone as I could manage.

Ayla frowned. "It seems like you're avoiding Fey and me."

I just shrugged and took a sip of my tea, wishing that it had more magic to help restore the calmness that Ayla's presence had stolen away. "Ya think?" I asked sarcastically.

"Did something happen between you and Fey?"

"Why don't you ask _her_?" I replied, not completely successful at keeping emotion out of my voice despite my best efforts. "If something happened, it was her doing, not mine, not that she'd recognize it or even, dare I say, apologize."

"And sitting with Tansy in magic class?" Ayla continued with a raised eyebrow.

"There weren't any other free desks."

Ayla frowned at that; he knew that was a lie, since I'd arrived early enough to get any of the desks that weren't regularly taken. "Why don't you come upstairs so you and I and Fey can discuss whatever happened? I know she's a little puzzled."

"Oh? Is that why she glares at me like I'm evil incarnate and need to be eliminated?" I said through clenched teeth. This discussion was getting very annoying. "Now if you'll excuse me," I said, standing, "I need to go outdoors where my spirits are more comfortable. They don't like being cooped up indoors all day." I bused my tray, and then walked out of the cafeteria. It was only when I got outside that I realized that I'd been so occupied, first with the tea, and then with Ayla, that I hadn't eaten. Crap. Ayla had upset me a lot more than I'd realized.

"Hey, Kayda," I heard from behind me. I stopped, and saw Sharisha running to catch up. "Wait up." I paused, and she was quickly at my side. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"I need to get away from ... that," I said, shuddering involuntarily. "I start feeling cooped up indoors. Besides, it's nice outside."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to wait for one of us," Sharisha reminded me.

"Yeah, I know. But talking with Ayla just pisses me off."

Sharisha snorted. "Ayla's a sick fuck. A total pervert." I knew she disliked Ayla, but her tone spoke of a hatred that went through her very core. "Worse is my roommate playing kissy-huggy with ... it!" We walked toward one of the sitting areas. "What did the Goodkind do to you?"

I shrugged. "I'm sick of him playing diplomat and acting like all of Fey's fuckups are my fault. He's acting like she can do no wrong, and then she has the audacity to get mad at me for what she's done. I suppose it's to be expected, though, since Ayla's covering for his teammate."

"What did the faerie queen do to you?"

I should have expected that question. "To start with she intruded in my dream-world."

"Dream world?"

"Yeah. It's like hyper-realistic dreams, and you remember every little detail, including taste, touch ... everything. Everyone has their own dream-world. Fey came traipsing into mine, with her Sidhe magic tearing up all the barriers so demons could have attacked me. And then she accused _me_ of messing with _her_ dreams!"

"Wait, you mean that you can get attacked in your dream world thing?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I was once already by a Lakota snake demon. What was worse is that it attacked ...." I glanced around to make sure we had some privacy, "... my girlfriend, and I had to rescue her."

"But that was just a dream, right?"

I shook my head solemnly. "Nope. If it had harmed her in the dream world, it would have harmed her in the real world, too. And the queen came waltzing into my dream world, shredding the magic barriers, so the demon spirit could have attacked me, or Debra. And after I pointed out that it was _her_ spirit that had invaded my dream space, she didn't even apologize."

"She's been hanging around the perv so long that she's picking up Ayla's sense of entitlement and bad manners," Sharisha snarled. Clearly, she had hate on for Ayla, but that was no secret in Poe.  In fact, she had a real hate thing going for all the changelings; I was guessing that she figured I was merely a lesbian because I wasn't rooming with another changeling, and I wasn't about to disabuse her of that notion.

"Do you know what happened to me this morning?"

"That sick bastard didn't ...."

"No, nothing like that," I quickly interrupted for fear she'd go try to neuter Ayla. I realized that she'd been the one cheering against men a few nights earlier. Either her or Hippolyta. "I had a ghost-walking spell to be invisible, so Ayla wouldn't be able to ogle me. Fey saw me cast it and vanish, so she used her magic, and it tore my spell all apart so everyone, including Ayla, _could_ see me."

"No wonder you're upset with her. I would be too." She and pulled a book out of her backpack. "Do you mind if I study instead of talking? I've got a butt-load of history to read in case we have a quiz today."

I laughed. "Not at all. It'll give me a chance to visit my spirits in my dream world. I get the feeling that they want to talk to me anyway."

The high mountain forest was nowhere in sight, but I was in a lightly wooded area of elms, oaks, ash, and a few towering cottonwoods. I glanced around, wondering where Tatanka had brought me. I found a fallen tree to sit on while I waited for the white one to arrive.

It didn't take him long to show up. He seemed to be having fun running full-out; perhaps I'd have to spend time in outings with him so he could run more. Did spirits get restless for running?

"Greetings, Tatanka," I said as he slowed and halted beside me.

"Wihakayda," he acknowledged. "I have someone special for you to talk to today.

"Not Pahi again?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No." He ambled deeper into the cluster of trees, watching as a shadow darted from tree to tree around us. Finally, Tatanka stopped. "Enough with the games, Ithunkasan," he called out. "I have someone who needs to learn from you."

A weasel peeked from behind a tree trunk. "Of course, Tatanka," the small, sleek animal said as he darted to me. I felt a little nervous as he sniffed around my legs. He disappeared behind a tree trunk, only to emerge a split-second later from behind a neighboring tree. "What's your name?" he asked as he zipped in front of me.

"Kayda," I answered, trying to follow the hyperactive weasel as he dashed about.

Ithunkasan sat in front of me, and gestured for me to sit as well. "What important lessons should I teach her, Tatanka? Bravery? Stealth? Cunning? Agility?"

"How about hyperactivity?" I shot back. "Not that I really want to learn that."

Ithunkasan frowned at me. "What do you _think_ you need to learn?"

I thought a moment. "I don't know."

Tatanka lay down. "Kayda has problems fighting. She doesn't think she needs to know how to fight."

"Everyone needs to know how to fight," the weasel declared with a snort. "The world is a great struggle, and only those who know how to stand for themselves thrive."

"That sounds a little harsh," I commented, frowning. "The world isn't like that."

"Oh? How do you eat?" Before I could answer, he continued. "You find your prey and hunt it. Isn't hunting the same as fighting? And what if something attacks your lodge or tepee? What do you do then?"

I frowned; the clever little animal had cornered me with a carefully crafted, logical argument. "I ... I'd defend them."

"Which is fighting. So you _would_ fight. Good." He darted around behind me, scrambled up my back, and peered over my shoulder. "But that's not enough," he whispered in my ear.

I turned to look at him, but he'd darted off my shoulder back in front of me. "What do you mean, it's not enough?"

"To fight, you must fight to win. You must fight fiercely, as though your life depended on every claw and bite, because it _does_ depend on them." He smiled. "I live alone, and yet, even large predators leave me alone. And do you know why?" Before I could answer, he continued. "Because I am fierce! I fight with everything I have, and I am feared even by the bear and the wolf!" he said proudly.

I thought for a few moments. It sounded very much like what Sensei Tolman had been telling me only hours earlier. "But ... if you're outnumbered, or ..."

The weasel shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You fight fiercely, and even many enemies will respect you and run like frightened rabbits."

"But you talked of other gifts, like stealth and grace and agility."

The weasel smiled smugly. "In battle, one must be agile, to be able to move where your foes don't expect. You must be graceful and not clumsy. I am both, and it serves me well in combat, and so I thrive."

"And ... stealth?"

"Sometimes, there is prey which is quicker, and so one must be cunning to outwit them, and silent enough to sneak upon them to strike the first blow." He laughed. "You have much to learn about stealth," he said. "You lumber about like a great noisy cow."

"I'm not a cow!" I protested angrily.

The weasel laughed again. "Your motions are obvious. As you are now, you couldn't sneak up on a blade of grass!"  I heard Tatanka chuckle softly at the weasel's comment, so I shot him a quick dirty look.

"So I must learn to be sneaky?"

"Stealthy. Sneaky implies devious or deceitful intentions. In all you do, you must use cunning. Did you use cunning when working with your teachers? No, you lumbered about like a cow. They knew what you were going to do even before you did, because your paths were obvious and poorly disguised." He darted back behind me and came up on my other shoulder. "If you knew what a foe was planning, would it surprise you?"

"No," I answered.

"And would you prepare to outwit his plan?" He ran down my front, rolled, and ended up sitting as he had been. "If you didn't know of his plan, outwitting the foe would be much more difficult."

"But ... I'm not battling against my teachers."

The weasel smiled. "No, but you match wits with the teachers, right? And so you must outwit them. And to do that, you must trust your instincts to guide you."

I frowned. It seemed so different from what Sensei had told me that morning, what Maka had told me the day before, and what I'd grown up learning.

"No time for further questions," he snapped. "I must run. I have to catch lunch, and there is a rabbit nearby." He scurried off, leaving me with Tatanka.

I started to rise, but Tatanka motioned for me to remain seated and silent.

The earth spirit showed us where Ithunkasan was sneaking up on a rabbit, which was distracted because it, in turn, was trying to elude a wolf. As we watched, the weasel leaped upon the rabbit, digging its teeth into the rabbit's neck, which resulted in the startled and now wounded rabbit thrashing about to try to dislodge the attacker. The commotion attracted the wolf, which savagely attacked the duo, focusing first on Ithunkasan, because it sensed the serious wound on the rabbit.

Ithunkasan may be been fierce, but the wolf was fighting to feed its pack, and so it overpowered Ithunkasan, who ended up retreating, licking its wounds.

Tatanka looked at me. "What did you learn from Ithunkasan's words?"

"That ... I must be fierce in attack? And outwit my opponents?"

"But what did you learn from his actions?"

I thought a moment. "He was rash and reckless, attacking when he shouldn't have."

"He was overconfident in his abilities, and that got him into trouble. Is own sense of how good he was and his instincts blinded him to thinking and being truly clever. He only thinks he was being clever. And all his stealth and grace and agility didn't help him win. They only helped him to escape with his life."

"Oh."

"Did you notice that Ithunkasan was alone?"

"Yes. I wondered about that."

"It's because he's so overconfident and reckless that he puts himself in danger, and thus puts those around him in danger, too, so that none want to be around him." He let me think a moment. "Is that what _you_ want, Wihakayda? To be alone because you are reckless?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you must think of your actions and act rationally rather than acting on instinct." He lumbered out of the woods back onto the open prairie, and, trotting, I followed and caught up to him.

"You have been rash with your teachers. You have been Ithukasan."

I stopped suddenly as his words hit me like a hammer. I _had_ been reckless in dealing with many others - not just my teachers, but my cottage-mates as well.

**********

English was tolerable, mostly because Ms. Seever ignored me, and I tried to paste on a smile, no matter how fake, and feign interest when she looked my way. I don't think I fooled her, but at least I didn't get another lecture. She asked me one question, which I answered, hopefully without any snark, and when class was over, she didn't bother glaring at me like she had the previous day. And maybe Fey had been right - having an easy class that I already knew cut down on my evening homework.

It still bothered me that I was stuck in English instead of being able to take a cool class like I'd wanted, but based on what I'd heard, the system seemed to be designed to keep _all_ students around for a full four years, mostly because their skill sets required additional time for them to learn to control and utilize. If the same applied to me, then I'd graduate with the Kimbas as well, even though I should graduate a year earlier. The one positive I found in that otherwise depressing thought was that I'd have opportunity to take some of the cool classes in engineering and mechanics.

Dr. Quintain's lecture was the usual afternoon sedative; since I was still catching up, I had plenty to read, so I avoided the nap that was a refuge from boredom for so many other students. Once class was over, I packed up my books to go to powers lab.

"Kayda," Dr. Quintain called to me as I was passing his desk on my way out of the classroom.

I stopped and turned to him. "Yes, sir?"

"Have you had any luck with your math difficulties?" He had a pleasant smile, as if he knew precisely what was going on.

I couldn't help but grin. "I took a math proficiency test this morning, for matrices, calculus, and trig."

"Good. I took the liberty of talking with Ms. Bell, and we called your high school and the School of Mines to get your actual transcripts faxed to us. Based on what we saw, you have as much need to be in high school math as Rembrandt would need to be in a kindergarten finger-painting class.

My cheeks felt a little warm as I blushed at the compliment. "I'd like a little free time, so I can finish Abstract Algebra and start on Finite Math."

"Ah, well, there's the rub. If you test as well as your informal transcripts say you should, then the math department will want you for a TA, but if you've got half the classwork and knowledge that you transcripts show, I really want you to work on our pattern mapping research project as a work-study job."

My eyes nearly bugged out at that; two departments recognized my math potential? That was far more than I'd expected.

"Think about it, okay?" Dr. Quintain asked.

"Yes, sir, I will!" I replied enthusiastically. "Thank you!" I was probably so exuberant that some of the other kids leaving the classroom were looking at me like I was maniacally insane.

When I walked into Power Lab, many of the students' conversations seemed to ebb, and I had the feeling that a lot of them were looking at me, but given my good mood, I didn't care.

"You look particularly 'appy today," Charge noticed when I sat down.

"Yeah," I practically sang happily. "Someone paid attention to my math transcripts, so it looks pretty certain that I'll get out of having to retake Algebra One."

"Oh? You 'ave taken algebra before?" She seemed both interested and envious at the same time.

I couldn't help smiling. "When I was in fourth grade. I've been taking college-level math as independent study for a few years."

Charge - Adalie - actually frowned at that comment. "It must be nice to 'ave math come to you so easily."

I winced at that; it was pretty clear from her tone that she didn't have an easy time in math. "Well, there are other classes that are hard, like magic and French," I countered.

"Non," she said, shaking her head. "Français is very easy. It is not confusing and difficult like English! Bah! I don't understand why English is so emphasized in the world!"

I really had a snappy comeback, about how _we_ won World War 2 against the Germans and Japanese, whereas France lost in the first round. I bit my tongue, though - for once. I didn't want to annoy someone who would hopefully be helping me learn aikido. "The teacher is late, isn't she?"

"Oui," Adalie agreed. "I have a question, if you don't mind me asking."

I was a bit confused. Yesterday, she had acted like I was a typical American that she held in contempt. Today, though, she was being at least cordial. "It depends on the question."

"What 'appened today when you were sparring?" She wasn't exactly subtle or tactful.

I sighed; I hoped to avoid those types of questions, because knowledge of my PTSD and how it could cripple me in a fight was a threat to me. If someone with ill intent triggered an episode, I would be totally helpless, and quite possibly dead. Still, if I was going to deal with Charge in martial arts, power theory, and power lab, I was probably going to have to learn to trust her, and others. That brought a quick scowl; Fey and Ayla were apparently among those not to be trusted. I erased that thought so Adalie didn't think I was angry at her question, though.

"Just after I manifested," I explained carefully, fighting back the emotional distress that always seemed to be just below the surface, "my friends tried to kill me. Twice." I felt my hands trembling at the disturbing memories. "I was pretty badly beaten both times, almost to death."

"Mon dieu!" Adalie said softly. "I thought it was bad that my friends just rejected me. My ... best friend ... she hates me just because I am a mutant," she said bitterly. "Even after I saved her life."

The teacher chose that moment to enter, interrupting our conversation. I puzzled through the rest of the lab; Adalie had been a total snob, but now she seemed to be cordial. I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she'd reacted negatively to my own emotional state, and since I was pretty happy, she felt like she could converse without fear of me being nasty.

After class, Bunny came by to escort me to electronics lab. She was eyeing me cautiously as we walked; Evvie had informed me that Fey and Bunny were ... close. Very close. And she was an associate member (if there were such a thing) of Team Kimba, being well-known for supplying them with devises and gadgets.

Once we got in the tunnels, Bunny asked, "What's going on, Kayda?"

I'd expected such a question. If she was the equipment supplier to TK, then she was on Ayla's payroll as well. "What do you mean?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Fey and Ayla seem kind of upset, and your name has come up a few time," she explained, a frown wrinkling her otherwise perfect face.  With her blonde hair in long pigtails, and her curves and perky disposition, she could have easily been mistaken for an air-head.

I shrugged. "Nothing really." I decided to turn the tables. "Why? What has Fey said about me?"

"Is it true that your spirit and hers know each other?" Bunny wasn't so easily tricked into revealing information about Fey and Ayla.

"How about if we just drop it, huh?" I asked when I realized I wasn't going to get any information from her, just like she wasn't getting anything from me.

"There _is_ something going on, isn't there?"

"Just drop it, okay?" I said, a lot more tersely than I should have. I was getting more than a little upset that Fey and Ayla were snooping to try to figure out what was bothering me; all they had to do was look in mirrors.

The rest of the walk to class was pretty quiet; I didn't want to be grilled about why I was upset at Fey's actions, and Bunny, who was very close to Fey, didn't want to tell me anything that she wasn't sure if Fey or Ayla would approve of me knowing. The last thing she said to me, warily, I might add, was that Delta Spike would be by to escort me back to Poe after class.

Class was good; I was rapidly getting caught up, to the point that I figured that within two more class periods, I'd be doing current work - assuming, of course, that I got my labs done. The labs themselves weren't difficult, just tedious. Despite that, I got data collected from two labs, and I just had to do the formal write-up to be done with them. I could do that back in my room.

One thing that bugged me was that we were doing very simple circuits the old-fashioned way with a lot of discrete components, including transistors, when most integrated circuits had millions and millions of circuits crammed into them. When one student complained, Ms. Merenis patiently interrupted everyone's independent study to repeat and then answer the question - how were we going to design integrated circuits if we didn't understand what components were required for each circuit? I smiled to myself; that was exactly what Dad had taught me about everything on the farm - if I didn't understand the simple things, how would I ever understand the complex things made from them?

After class, I could tell that Delwin was hoping to escort me back to Poe, but he was also very nervous about what had happened the previous day. He chatted away about class to help me pass the time while I waited for Delta Spike; I think he thought that he was being subtle, but it was painfully evident that he was just hanging around to talk to me, wondering if he'd have to escort me again, and a little terrified of that possibility.

Delta Spike was a few minutes late, for which she was apologetic, because she'd been working in her lab. Since Delwin was a devisor and gadgeteer, that led to them starting to talk, with her talking about galvanomorphs, while Delwin prattled on about building integrated circuits with multistate logic that were more like neural networks than traditional computer chips. I seemed a little forgotten as the two delved deeply into their own respective areas of interest, each trying to convince the other that their ideas were superior and would be the next great breakthrough. It was only when I interrupted Delta Spike to let her know that my destination was Schuster Hall instead of Poe that she even seemed to recall that I was there.

Dr. Bellows asked, of course, how my day went; I was guessing that he could read my expression enough to know that I was much happier than I'd been the day before. So I explained the math test, and Dr. Quintain's interest in me doing work-study for him. He was pleased that my attitude was much improved, and so was I.

"How was martial arts?" he asked. Based on his expression, he probably already knew the answer.

"It sucked."

"Oh? Why was it bad?"

"Mrs. Hawkins called Mom when I stopped by her office, and Mom was pretty adamant that I was going to take martial arts, even if I don't want to." I snorted at that. "Debra told her that Ito was a great instructor, and she wants me in his class."

"I take it you don't agree?"

"Not if your definition of greatness includes insulting and demeaning students, making them feel like crap, and then excluding them from everything," I answered, my good mood having vanished at the reminder of my martial arts classes. "The other girls in the locker room were all talking about me, and I didn't want to go out to class."

"But you decided to?" he asked.

"Tolman or Ito probably told you, didn't they?"

"I asked Sensei Tolman to keep me informed," Dr. Bellows admitted.

"Great. Now my teachers are all spying on me, too," I huffed, crossing my arms angrily and slumping back onto the couch.

"Kayda," Dr. Bellows chided me softly, "you've had three PTSD events, one of which was in martial arts this morning. It's _very_ important that I know so I can help you overcome whatever triggers the events. But I assure you that I do _not_ tell anyone what you and I discuss."

I shook my head, lowering my gaze. "I'm such a fucking mess," I muttered unhappily.

"Kayda, you're making progress. I never promised that it would be fast or easy, only that I'd help you overcome those events."

"Yeah, I suppose," I muttered.

"What happened today in martial arts?"

"Ms. Tolman made me go out to the mats, and then I had to spar so she could evaluate what I knew and didn't know. I ... I had to fight ... and ... and I got beat up ... pretty badly." I was shaking again, and my eyes were moist.

"And that's when you collapsed?"

I simply nodded. "Ms. Tolman talked with me in the locker room to see what happened."

"But you went back out to keep trying?"

I simply nodded.

"As far as Senseis Ito and Tolman are concerned, you're kind of a 'special needs' student in their class. They know of your background and your PTSD, so they'll try to help you."

I nodded. "Okay."

"But you _will_ have to fight. That's the whole point of martial arts - learning to fight and to defend yourself. I'll work with your instructors to help you learn to cope so you can stay focused while you're fighting." He scratched his chin for a moment, looking thoughtful. "You didn't have any problems with PTSD when you were fighting the snake demon, did you? Or the water panther?"

"Uh, no," I said, realizing that he was right - I hadn't panicked in those battles. "But ... I had to save Debra," I said about the first fight, "and I didn't have time ...."

Dr. Bellows smiled. "I'm just pointing out that you _can_ fight if you have to."

"Oh. Okay."

"Is there anything else on your mind, or do you need to get to your homework?"

"Uh, I ... I don't think so," I stammered unconvincingly.

"You don't sound sure of yourself."

I looked down. "Uh, maybe. I'm ... having some troubles ... with some people in my cottage."

"And what are the problems?"

"Um, one girl's magic and her spirit are messing with my privacy and stuff."

"Would that be Fey?" he interrupted.

I nodded, and then told him about Aunghadhail's dream intrusion, followed by Nikki's reaction and how she didn't even care, and about my ghost-walking spell that Nikki tore apart, allowing Ayla to see me nude. And I pointed out that Nikki didn't even act like she'd done something wrong. The more I talked, the more I recalled how Ayla and Nikki had acted toward me since the first incident, and the more upset I got.

"Have you talked to either of them?" Dr. Bellows asked.

I frowned. "After the way they were acting like they weren't wrong, I don't want anything to do with them."

"So you didn't give either of them a chance to apologize, did you?"

"Are you saying that it's my fault?" I asked, suddenly defensive.

"No, I'm not saying that," Dr. Bellows countered very quickly. "But is it possible that you're so upset that you're not giving them a chance to apologize, and because they can't, you end up assuming that they don't want to apologize, or don't care if they do?"

I started to answer, but hesitated. Ayla had tried to talk to me in the caf, and had invited me upstairs to talk with him and Fey, and both had tried knocking on my door in Poe. "Um, maybe," I answered, feeling a little uncertain. Maybe they _had_ wanted to apologize. On the other hand, though, they might have wanted to further blame me for what they'd done.

"Is it possible that Fey was too surprised and embarrassed to apologize at first?" Dr. Bellows asked.  I couldn't answer, because I hadn't considered that angle.

**********

Poe Cottage

On my way from the bathroom back to my room, I saw Fey going into her room.  Immediately, I thought of what Dr. Bellows had said; she might have been embarrassed and not known how to apologize.  I tried to force myself to call out to her, or to walk to her door to knock, but I couldn't.  I was too frightened that she wouldn't recognize that she'd done something wrong, or wouldn't apologize.

I walked back to my room, leaning against the door after closing it.  I should give her a chance, I knew, but I just couldn't forget the danger she'd brought to Debra and the humiliation she'd caused me in the bathroom.

The fire in the fire pit was comforting, as was the tea that I was drinking with Wakan Tanka. My dream-world was my refuge, and I really needed the peace I found there. "Wakan Tanka," I began after a sip, "am I wrong to fear the Sidhe queen?"

"No, Wihakayda," my spirit answered me quickly. No doubt she'd been thinking of that very subject. "You are right to be cautious. I cannot tell which of her actions are from an impetuous girl and which are from the Sidhe."

"Aren't they the same?" I asked, puzzled by her statement. "Like you and I?"

Wakan Tanka shook her head, a thin smile on her lips. "She and the queen are more like you and I than you and Ptesanwi," she said.

"I don't understand."

"You and Ptesanwi are one. She is a part of you. But you and I are not, except when you merge with me into the manifestation of Ptesanwi. The difference is that the Sidhe queen is independent of the girl, whereas I cannot act without your knowledge and permission," she explained.

"So ... maybe Nikki isn't to blame for the dream walk?"

"No. But she _is_ responsible for shattering your spell." She took a long, slow sip of her tea. "You should listen to the counselor," she continued. "You haven't given either of them a chance to apologize, have you?"

"So you think I'm wrong, too?" That was all I needed - a spirit in my head that was blaming me for things like what had happened.

"You should talk to her. If she does regret what happened, you have to give her a chance to apologize."

I snapped myself out of my dream world, back to reality. Having Wakan Tanka ask the same question as Dr. Bellows was sapping my determination. _Was_ I shutting them out? Maybe I was being too reactionary because I'd been hurt so badly in the past by people who'd been friends, that I didn't want to give Ayla and Fey a chance to hurt me. I just knew, at that moment, that more emotional pain wasn't something I could handle.

Hearing no-one in the hall, I walked down the hall and down the staircase. One place that was mostly unused was the cottage library, so I slipped in and found a corner to sit and think.

Tatanka nudged my shoulder to get my attention, sitting as I was on a prairie hill, looking out over a seemingly-endless ocean of waving grass. "Wihakayda?" he asked, curious why I had allowed him to get so close without reacting.

"Yes, Tatanka?" I said without turning to him.

"You have something on your mind."

"No kidding!" I drew in a deep breath of the clean, cool early spring air.

"Perhaps instead of sitting here, it would be better to complete your lesson. Some of what Ptan has to teach might help you with your current problem."

I turned and stared at the big white spirit. "Maybe." I clambered to my feet.

Instantly, we were at a river bank. "What do you see?" Tatanka asked me.

I looked over the river, and immediately saw an animal floating playfully in the river on its back. As soon as it saw Tatanka, it did a graceful flip and disappeared under the water, surfacing in a powerful leap out of the water onto the riverbank. I was puzzled, but only for a moment; river otters had long since vanished from South Dakota lands, but had once been very common.

"Greetings, mighty Tatanka," the otter said as it darted among Tatanka's legs like they were an obstacle course or maze. The otter stopped in front of me, rose on its hind legs to peer at me, and then darted around me, pausing to take quick sniffs before circling again. I could have gotten dizzy trying to watch the critter.

"How is the fishing today, Ptan?" Tatanka asked him.

"I was fishing this morning," the otter answered. "Now is my time to relax." She looked at me from head to toe and back. "Who is this young maiden? Have you brought her here so I would have someone to frolic and play with?"

Tatanka smiled. "This is Wihakayda, the emissary of Wakan Tanka. And that _might_ not be a bad idea."

The name of my benefactor was not lost on Ptan; her eyes widened, and then she bowed deeply. "It is an honor, Wihakayda. What can I do for you?"

Tatanka spoke before I could. "Wihakayda is young, and she is still learning much. I am introducing her to animal spirits to teach her about the world."

Ptan looked at me again. "As usual, Tatanka, you are wise. But what can I teach the Ptesanwi? I am just a humble little otter." She winked to me, suggesting that she was pulling Tatanka's leg. She seemed a lot less serious than some of the other spirits that I'd met.

"Kayda talked with your cousin Ithunkasan this morning," Tatanka said, "and as usual, he was overly dramatic."

Ptan rolled her eyes. "And what trouble was that little imp creating?"

I chuckled. "He got cocky trying to steal prey from a wolf, and he got his butt kicked."

"He is always so serious, looking for fights when he doesn't need to," Ptan said, shaking her head. "And what did you learn from him?"

"He told me that I had to be fierce, as well as agile and stealthy, to survive in the constant battle that is life," I answered, hesitating because she seemed to have a low opinion of her cousin.

"My brother Ithunkasan has no time to play, and so he cannot relax," Ptan said with a sad expression.

Suddenly, Ptan perked up, tilting her head from side to side. "Just a moment," she said before sliding back into the water with a splash. A few seconds later she surfaced, and then a much smaller head surfaced beside her. She climbed gracefully back up the river bank, followed by the other otter. "Forgive the interruption, Ptesanwi," Ptan apologized. "My pup was getting himself into trouble by being a little too curious." She shook her head. "It seems that the job of a mother is never done."

I looked at Tatanka. "Why have you brought me to Ptan? There's something you're not telling me," I added with mock menace in my voice.

"What makes you think I'm hiding something from you?"

Ptan shook her head, making an odd grunting whistle that sounded like disapproval. "So serious," she observed. She indicated that I should sit, which I did, and then she practically pushed her pup into my lap.

The little otter, though wet, was quite affectionate - right up until he stuck his nose inquisitively down the front of my dress. "Hey!" I shouted angrily, pulling him from my cleavage.

"He is a pup, and he is curious," Ptan said. I thought I saw Tatanka smirking.

"Well, I guess ...." I gave him a hug, and he wiggled out of my arms and ran over my shoulder and down my back, then circled me to plop in my lap, looking up at me with innocent eyes, as if he'd done nothing.

"You see - already my pup has learned balance. He plays, but he also works when he needs to." She shook her head. "I think that you have no balance. You seem too serious, like Ithunkasan."

"I'm not that bad," I protested, and on hearing a snort from Tatanka, I paused. "Am I?"

"When was the last time you laughed?" Ptan asked.

"I ...." I had to stop, because I honestly couldn't remember the last timethat I'd had a good, playful time with laughter and relaxation. "I guess it's been a while," I admitted.

"Why?"

"Because of all the serious things that are happening to me!" I countered. "I changed, got my spirits, was assaulted, had to flee my home ...." I shook my head. "Many, many things."

"The last time I saw you laugh was with Debra," Tatanka stated.

"You have no balance. That is why you aren't enjoying life," Ptan said. "And when you talk of others, you seem wary, instead of caring and nurturing of friendships and relationships." Ptan sat in front of me as her pup played ring-around-the-rosie with my torso, tugging on my long braids as if they were ropes to swing from. "Why do your problems take all your focus?"

I glanced at Tatanka, as if I thought Ptan was nuts. "I ... I have to solve them."

Ptan nodded. "This is true. But sometimes, when you worry too much and don't relax, you lose perspective of the problems. Some problems can be ignored for a while, and some will solve themselves if you do nothing. Sometimes, taking time to play gives your mind a rest, and the solutions appear more easily."

"That ... that's hard to do - to ignore problems."

Ptan laughed. "There's a difference between ignoring a problem and keeping a problem in perspective. Look at my pup and me. When we swim, do we allow the waves and currents to carry us where _they_ go?"

"The way you phrased that, I'm going to guess the answer is no."

"Do we fight the waves and currents to get to where we seek to go?"

"Uh, yeah," I answered hesitantly.

Ptan shook her head. "No. We balance things. We use the currents and waves to help us get to where _we_ want to go, and we enjoy the journey more than if we fought them. By doing this, the journey can even be fun, a time to play and relax a little. And even if there is no time to play on the journey, by not fighting the water constantly, we arrive with time and energy so that we can _then_ play."

"But ... I don't have time to play!" I protested.

"Nonsense!" Ptan countered immediately. "Everyone has time to play - if they keep their lives in balance." She stood and grasped the hem of my dress. "Come. If you have forgotten how to play, my pup and I will remind you."

I allowed Ptan and her pup to tug me to the river bank, where the pup used a muddy slide to slip down and splash playfully in the water. He dove, and came up, rolling over and over in the water before clambering back up the bank. "Come on," the pup said eagerly.

I looked at Tatanka, horror-stricken. These two animal spirit wanted me to play with them? In the water?

"Go on, Wihakayda," Tatanka said. "Let Ptan remind you how to play. I will stand guard."

I eventually allowed the three animals to convince me, and after stripping from my buckskin dress and mocs, I sat down on the muddy slope and slid into the cool water with a big splash. The pup was right behind me, and as I sputtered to clear the water from my face, he swam in front of me playfully, tagging my cheek before diving away, only to surface a few feet away and looking like he was laughing at me.

We played water tag. We slid down the bank over and over. I was so distracted by the fun of swimming with Ptan and her pup that I even forgot that I was skinny-dipping. Eventually, though, Tatanka told me that I had to go back to my real world.

As the white buffalo and I walked away from the river bank, water dripping from my hair, Tatanka smiled at me. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes," I answered without thinking. "Ptan is fun to be with."

Tatanka chuckled. "It wasn't Ptan that was making the fun. It was you letting go of your concerns long enough to relax.  Who would you rather be like - Ithunkasan, or Ptan?"

"Ptan," I answered without thinking. "Ithunkasan is too serious, and too arrogant."

"Did you notice how caring and nurturing Ptan was to her pup?"

I nodded. "She was a lot nicer to be around than Ithunkasan."

"You need to learn to be caring and nurturing like Ptan, Wihakayda."

I stopped mid-stride at the implication of his words, a look of horror on my face. "You're not trying to say that ... that I ...."

It took Tatanka second to realize what I was thinking. "Oh, no, Wihakayda!" he said, shocked at how I'd misinterpreted his words. "No, no, no! You have too much to learn before you can have your own to nurture and care for!"

I sighed with relief. "Good. Because I'm not ready to be a mother. Not for a long time.  If ever!"

"But if you learn the lesson of Ptan," Tatanka added softly, "you'll eventually be a good one."

**********

Dinner was much better, mostly because I think the play had helped my attitude. French was even tolerable, and several people made note of my smile and friendlier disposition. I was quick to use the bathroom, because even though I was in a better mood, I still didn't know how to deal with Ayla or Fey. And after I got back from French, Jade came by to see Tatanka again - and to lobby me to join Wondercute.

I spent over an hour on the phone with Debra, and she was quite pleased that I was actually trying in martial arts instead of sulking about how much the class sucked. She was also very happy for me that I'd had a placement test for math, and might be getting out of having to retake algebra one. With her cheery disposition, and the things that had happened during the day, I went to bed feeling like maybe Whateley could be a tolerable place, perhaps even enjoyable - if my classes got straightened out and if my cottage-mates quit being stuck-up bitches.

Debra added to what Dr. Bellows and Wakan Tanka had said - that maybe I was over-reacting to innocent mistakes, and that I wasn't giving them a chance to apologize. Debra was a lot more subtle about it, though, because she knew from dream-walking with me just how much I was upset by what Fey had done and how Ayla was acting.

One point Debra suggested was that Fey and possibly Aunghadhail hadn't realized just how dangerous a spirit attack could be, because they might have their own natural defenses and had never been subject to an attack. Once again, I had to derail that train of conversation, because it seemed to imply that I was at fault.

Debra was as curious as I was about Jade and Wondercute, especially the intensely-fearful reaction it got from others when it was even mentioned. I mentioned the two animal spirits I'd met, and Debra asked if sometime she could meet Ptan, because she thought otters were cute and playful creatures, and because I think she was also a little jealous that I'd been skinny-dipping without her. Naturally that led to dream-walking with Debra, where we went to the river and played in the water and muddy slide with Ptan and her pup. After a few hours of play, still giggling from our frolicking, we went back to the tepee village to rest and cuddle.

**********

South Dakota

The second son of Unhcegila waited for twilight. Like his brother, he'd shed his stone outer shell, and now was vulnerable to sunlight, so he had to move at night to avoid the burning rays. Unlike his brother, he kept his instincts in check and maintained stealth, moving carefully and slowly, pausing to feed only when he could avoid detection. He had many miles to travel to find the object of his quest, the sacred sphere which his father had directed that he find and bring to him.

It should be easy, he reasoned - he would follow the vast herds of bison, because where the bison were found, the People would be hunting them. On his first day, he had found a herd, but it was a tiny group of animals, and try as he might, he could find none of the People or their dwellings in the area. Surely the People wouldn't bother hunting this small of a herd; there weren't enough buffalo to support a tribe for more than a few weeks. The snake-demon had no way of knowing that he was searching Custer State Park for Lakota people who hadn't lived on those lands for well over a century.

Puzzled, the snake demon traveled through Paha Sapa, the Black Hills, to the edge of the prairie, to where the buffalo roamed more freely, and in larger numbers. Still, he could detect none of the herds, finding instead only some clusters of scrawny, distant relatives of the great bison. Surely these animals would be useful to the People, even if not as useful as the mighty Tatankas.

Hunger was overtaking the snake-demon, so he crept upon one of the cattle, who seemed to sense the evil presence. A quick strike felled one of the beasts, and the demon feasted. The instinct to feed overwhelmed his rational, thinking self, and he attacked another, and then a third cow, leaving behind piles of bones where the cattle had stood.

Sated, the snake demon crept toward a strange dwelling, a structure made of wood instead of buffalo hides, and set permanently in place. The creature paused, considering. Eons ago, when the creature's father, Unhcegila, had come on his great migration to Paha Sapa, he had passed People who dwelt in fixed structures, longhouses made of poles and planks of trees, in which many, many families dwelt. Was this one of those dwellings? If so, that would mean that the People had been displaced by those tribes from the East. That would seem reasonable; if the buffalo had moved from the prairie, the People would have followed them, leaving empty space for the eastern tribes to move in. But if that had happened, finding the sacred sphere was going to be much more difficult than the father had assumed.

The snake creature thought as it hid in a larger mostly-empty outbuilding. It sensed only a few humans, not the dozens which should have lived in the building if this _was_ an eastern tribe. And the scents and odors of the place bore no resemblance to any of the tools and clothing of any of the People, Lakota or not.

As dusk arrived, the snake decided to move to find more clues. It found a hard path that retained the heat of the day, feeding energy to the creature so it moved more quickly. It would circle Paha Sapa, looking for anyone who smelled like any of the People, and it would feed on their knowledge so that it could gather clues as to the whereabouts of the Lakota, and thus, the sacred sphere that was supposed to be in their possession.

Well after midnight, a rancher and his wife, an older couple whose children had grown, drove in an older pickup truck northward along highway 79, near the edge of the Black Hills. It was far later than they'd have preferred to travel, but problems with some machinery at their ranch had taken far longer to repair than they'd anticipated, and with their children waiting in Rapid City so the extended family could catch an early-morning flight, the couple had no choice but to drive well into the night.

As the pickup crested a small hill, the man driving frowned, looking down. He saw something ahead, but it made no sense to him. All of the light from the truck's headlights seemed to be swallowed up in a coal-black something on the road. Too late, the man slammed on the brakes. The pickup's tires screeched on the asphalt, until the pickup impacted the inky body of the snake demon.

The snake demon roared in agony from the crushing impact as the front-end of the truck crumpled into a twisted mass of sheet metal. Since the passenger's side impacted first due to the way the snake had been moving on the road, the truck was thrown into a wild skid to the left, and when the tires bit into the grass of the soft shoulder, the momentum of the careening pickup caused it to flip and roll.

The man was fortunate; he was killed when the cab of the pickup caved in and crushed his shoulder and skull. His wife, though, was spared death because the cab over her head was far less mangled. Battered and bruised, she fought waves of pain, nausea, and unconsciousness. In a short fit of lucidness, she tried to find her purse, to get her cell phone to call for help; at that late hour, there would be few travelers on the road, and help might take hours. Alas, the purse had been tossed randomly in the cab at the impact, and injured as she was, hanging from straps since the pickup lay on its left side, she had no chance of locating or reaching the purse, even if there had been enough light to see it.

The woman sensed something, a presence that didn't seem right. She looked around from trying to see through the shattered, nearly opaque remains of the windshield, held together only by a plastic film that all safety glass had. She saw nothing, but the presence seemed closer. Dangling from her seat belt and shoulder harness, she looked up toward the sky, toward something that had caught her attention, something which had blotted out even the faint moonlight that had been streaming through the passenger window. The scream which escaped her lips was the last sane sound the woman would ever make.

The creature paused to consider the mind he'd consumed and the knowledge it contained. The times of the tribes in vast tepee villages, roaming the plains after the innumerable bison, those times were done. Though she hadn't excelled in history, the old woman's mind contained enough facts to cause bewilderment to the snake demon. The People lived on things called reservations, no longer chasing the herds? Had they forgotten all their ways, and now dwelt like sheep, passive, heartless, lacking in the skills and courage that had once defined them as a mighty People? And if that were true, had they forgotten or lost the precious artifacts - the sacred bundle of the white buffalo calf woman, the texts painted on the pelts, and most importantly, the sacred sphere, the rough, oblong ball that the father creature desired?

The more he thought, the more troubled the snake demon became. He had to know more. To do that, he had to find one of the People, who would hopefully know more about the location of the tribes. The snake demon began to move north, because the woman's knowledge said that there was a vast village to the north, someplace called Rapid City, and where there were human beings, surely some of the People could be found. Even luckier, the village was near. He might be able to get some answers before he had to hide from the light.

Cecilia Running Waters woke when her dog, fenced in the backyard of the duplex in which she lived, began to bark furiously. She was about to open a window to yell at her dog, to tell it to be quiet, when its barking quit in an agonizing howl, followed by silence broken only by the distant sound of cars driving along St. Patrick street. Concerned for her beloved dog, Cecilia pulled on a robe and slid her feet into her slippers, then darted to the back door, unchaining and unlocking it swiftly. Pausing to grab a flashlight that she kept near the back door, she opened the door, shining the light into the darkness of her yard.

She screamed when her flashlight illuminated a few pieces of her dog, bloodied and rent as if by a chainsaw. She didn't see the creature until it was too late.

**********

Thursday, March 22, 2007
Poe Cottage

I'd hoped to avoid bumping into Ayla or Fey this morning, but the fates conspired against me. No sooner had I wrapped my robe around myself than Ayla walked into the bathroom. "Morning, Kayda," he said cautiously.

"Uhnnn," I grumbled, at least acknowledging his presence and greeting, even if I didn't want to reply.

"Are you having any luck with your classes?" Ayla asked, trying to force some kind of conversation. "Mrs. Hawkins owes me a few favors ...."

"No thank you," I said flatly.

"It wouldn't be any trouble," Ayla continued trying to be civil.

That's all I needed - to owe Ayla and his kind favors. "I said, no thank you," I repeated, a little more forcefully.  With that, I stomped out of the bathroom, knowing that Bunny, Rip, Pilar, and a few others were gawking at me, slack-jawed and confused. I didn't particularly care if Ayla's friends and flunkies didn't like me.

When I came into our room, Evvie was getting slipping into her robe so she could shower. She read my facial expression pretty clearly. "Ayla again? Or Fey?"

"Ayla." I plopped my butt down on my bed. "He's _offering_ to help with my class schedule," I said angrily.

"What's wrong with that?" Evvie asked, pausing and not realizing that her robe was hanging open. Damn, but she was a very nice looking girl. I didn't know if I'd ever tire of seeing the girls in Poe.

"Like I want to end up owing him favors! That's all I'd need - having him call in favors to protect his sorry ass by being on his training team!"

Evvie stared at me a moment, and then she laughed aloud, which made me frown. "You don't know much about Team Kimba, do you?" she chuckled.

"No. All I need to know is that it's Ayla's team, and he probably coerced the others onto the team to protect himself."

"Hardly," Evvie said, smiling. "Last fall, there were seven changelings like you who showed up on the first day. Jade, Nikki, Toni, Hank, Ayla, Billie, and Jinn. Well, technically Jinn is Jade's dead sister, so only six showed up, but, well, since they were all changelings, they kind of bonded socially to look out for each other, and they decided to make a training team. It's no more Ayla's team than anyone else's." She chuckled. "As if a Goodkind would have a team named Team Kimba!"

"Oh." I wasn't quite sure I believed the story, but I wasn't going to argue too much.

"Now, promise me you'll wait this time?" Evvie said with a 'stern mother' look.

"Okay, I'll wait." That didn't assuage her; she still had the frown and crossed arms. "I promise," I added quickly, raising my arm up in a Boy Scout sign, which made her laugh.

I used the time to work on catching up in my classes. At least I didn't have algebra any longer, which left me a free first period. I would have worried what I was going to do with my free time, especially since Rosalyn would probably find me and use the opportunity to tease me and try to persuade me to go to the hot-tub party, but I'd had a note in my mailbox the previous evening which said that instead of going to math, I should go to see Dr. Bellows first thing. I was more than a little concerned about that, because I'd been caught by security without an escort twice the day before. And despite working things out with Sensei Tolman, I had been an ass at the start of BMA, and not exactly friendly or outgoing in either magic or English. And I knew that my teachers were reporting my ... conduct ... to Dr. B.

Breakfastwent mostly okay, except that I noticed a few guys staring at me with what I knew were lustful, or at least very appreciative, looks. I shuddered inwardly, and found myself fighting my demons as I tried not to over-react. Evvie and Laurie must have noticed, because they both hugged me tightly until I'd calmed down enough that I didn't fear another PTSD episode.

For the third morning in a row, Rosalyn was my 'escort'. "You again?" I asked warily. "Are you stalking me?"

"Maybe," Rosalyn said, smiling coyly. "Or maybe I'm haunting you."

"No, I'm not coming to the hot-tub party."

"Even if I have a surprise for you?" she asked, grinning broadly.

"Especially not if you have a surprise," I countered strongly. "Knowing you, it'd be some kind of Roman orgy or something."

"Nah," she giggled, "but that's not a bad idea! You don't mind if we use it, do you?"

"Ooohhh! You're impossible!"

Rosalyn grasped my hand, which made me a touch uncomfortable. "No, I'm _very_ possible," she purred seductively. "All you have to do is say 'yes' to find that out." She laughed at my discomfort.

"I'm tempted to let you dream-walk with me, just so you can see that I know what I'm doing, and that your tutorials aren't needed!"

"Oooh, some girl-on-girl action! That sounds like one of my fondest dreams! The only thing better would be a three-way." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

I sighed, shaking my head. "I see that I'm going to have to play matchmaker and find you a steady girlfriend so you leave me alone."

Rosalyn giggled.  "You're assuming that one girl can keep me satisfied."

Fortunately, we arrived at Dr. Bellows' office, and I escaped her teasing. As I watched her walk off, pausing to blow a kiss over her shoulder, and then swaying her hips in an exaggerated, sexy manner, I couldn't help but wonder, at least for a moment, what it would be like to accept her rather blatant invitation. But Debra would be disappointed, so I banished the thought.

"Good morning, Kayda," Dr. Bellows said, sounding friendly and not at all upset as I'd feared. "Have a seat." He gestured to a chair in front of his desk, which was a huge change from his normal counseling sessions where we sat in the casual, overstuffed furniture.

"Um, okay," I said as I sat warily, wondering what was going on.

Dr. Bellows must have read my anxiety in my voice. "Oh, don't worry. You aren't in trouble. We just have a few details to work out, and I'll need to use my computer." He looked at the screen. "Now, technically Charlie Lodgeman should be doing this, since he's been assigned as your academic advisor. But since he's still on travel, he asked me to get some changes made pronto, and he'll meet with you when he gets back, hopefully this afternoon."

"Uh, who made the request for me to change advisors?" I asked cautiously. Heaven forbid that it was the Goodkind using his connections. I didn't want to owe him squat.

"That's an administrative matter," he said, "so you don't need to worry. Now, according to Ms. Bell, you will no longer be taking Algebra 1, so that frees up your first period. And I've got your transcripts into the system, so you will not be in English I in fourth period."

I could hardly believe my ears. I sat, dumbfounded, my jaw hanging open. "But ... what happened?" I stammered.

"Errors tend to get worked out - eventually. So we can move you to fourth period electronics, and ...."

"No, I like having independent study for electronics. Can we move French?"

"I can put you in French in first period."

"What about Avatars?" I asked. "Mr. Lodgeman and Ms. Grimes both think it's important for me to take Avatars."

Dr. Bellows fiddled with his keyboard. "Hmmm," he muttered to himself. "The only way to work this is to put you in Avatars in first period, but the only French is in fifth period." He fiddled some more. "Since you're in the magic track, you don't really need power theory or power lab, so if we drop those ...."

"Power lab is kind of cool," I found myself saying, much to my surprise. "If ... if I'm going to have to do the combat stuff and martial arts, then probably the lab would be helpful to know how the other ... powers ... can be used for fighting."

Dr. Bellows looked at me, surprised, and then a smile crept over his features. "That makes sense. I'll check with Dr. Quintain to see if you can keep power lab without power theory."

"He'll probably make me do work-study for him in exchange," I said glumly. "As if I have time for that."

"Dropping two classes would get you back to seven, so it might be possible to move your costume class to ...." He looked at the schedules. "We can do French in fifth period, but there's no costume class in fourth, and the only Avatars section this term is first." He shook his head. "Martial Arts is stuck in second period, and intro to magic is stuck in third period, so it looks like you'll have to keep the costume class on Saturdays."

"That's better than what I had," I said. Inwardly, I was feeling elated that something was going right with my schedule, but there was a nagging fear that something was going to screw up all these plans, and at the last minute. "That's ... that sounds good."

Dr. Bellows laughed. "But?"

I gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Every time it seems like something is going right, something gets messed up at the end. I ... I don't want to get my hopes up."

With a smile, Dr. Bellows hit a key on his keyboard. "There. It's final, assuming, of course, that Dr. Quintain will let you do power theory as independent study. No-one can screw it up now without approval from Mrs. Carson." He turned back to face me. "Now, since your power lab is only two days a week, let's talk about Ms. Bell and Dr. Quintain's requests for your work-study time."

Oh, oh. Here came the bad part.

"After seeing your transcripts, Ms. Bell was pretty adamant that you work as a teaching assistant in the math department. At the same time, Dr. Quintain really wants you to work with his team on the pattern problem. He's even offered to set up a college credit independent study class with you for this work."

I let my head loll back until I was staring at the ceiling. "Oh, crap! First, I had bad classes. Now I've got a good class schedule, but the instructors who helped make this happen are both hoping to take away any spare time I might have gained!"

Dr. Bellows laughed. "Do you like teaching?"

"Huh?"

"Do you like teaching and tutoring?" he repeated.

"Well, yeah," I said.

"You could try both, you know."

"What?" I was dumbfounded. "I ... I just got a sane schedule, and now you're suggesting that I do two jobs as well? That'll be crazier than ... than what I _had_!"

"Maybe not. Powers lab is only two days a week, right? And your fourth period is now free, which means that you have time to work with Dr. Quintain, and to also spend time as a TA in fourth period or after your electronics class. You'll get college credit working with Dr. Quintain, too."

"I guess," I answered only somewhat enthusiastically.

"The head of the math department would like to see you as soon as we get done. So if you don't have any more questions about your new and improved class schedule, we're done - for now. Of course, you realize that this isn't a substitute for your after-class sessions, don't you?"

"I was afraid you were going to say that," I grumbled, or at least pretended to. The smile gave me away.

"Good."

**********

Rosebud Indian Reservation, South Dakota

"I'm coming," the old, weary chief grumbled, limping to the phone. "Hello," he said gruffly.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" the voice on the other end demanded without waiting for pleasantries.

"What ...?" Dan Bear Claws had to clear the cobwebs from his brain; it was still early. "What do you mean, what am I trying to do? You _know_ I'm trying to scare her out of that school."

"Well, your operative screwed up and tried to kill her!" the angry voice chided.

"What? Tried to _kill_ her?" Dan Bear frowned, puzzled. "That ... that can't be! He told me precisely what he was going to do, and I was very clear that there was to be no harm to her!"

"Well, he must have misunderstood, because she got hit near her spine with a very large ice ball that almost killed or paralyzed her."

"That ... that couldn't have been my guy!" Dan protested.

The other voice had no patience. "You better confirm that, and you better make sure it doesn't happen again! She's supposed to come home, but not in a pine box!"

"It _had_ to be someone else!"

There was a long, sharp breath audible on the phone. "Then I suggest that you use whatever contacts you have with other tribes to see if one of _them_ would prefer that she not come back. And you probably should start with the Cheyenne River tribes!"

"I don't have a lot of contacts ..."

"You better find some!" The voice was not in the slightest bit friendly, nor tolerant. "You _do_ know that I'm a shaman, don't you?"

Dan gulped; he hadn't realized how important the woman was.  "Now I do."

"I don't need to remind you what will happen to you if anything happens to the Ptesanwi, do I?"

Dan shuddered inwardly. That was no idle threat. "No, of course not."

"And since you can't think of any other strategies, you will do the following." The voice gave a detailed list, and Dan Bear Claws nodded as he scribbled down his instructions.

"That'll be expensive!" he protested.

"Don't worry about the money. Just do it!" The line went dead.

The old, former chief shuddered. The demands were impossible, and yet he was expected to make sure everything happened precisely as he'd been instructed. He didn't dare make any mistakes; one did not lightly cross a shaman.

**********

Crystal Hall, Whateley

The rest of the day had gone wonderfully. Well, not completely wonderfully, but much better than the previous days. I sat at the dinner table, with my friends glancing at me warily, as if they were worried about me.

Finally, Laurie could take no more of the mystery. "Okay, Kayda," she began sternly, "what's up?"

"What do you mean, 'what's up'?" I asked innocently.

"You're not grumbling, pouting, sulking, griping, moaning, groaning, glaring, or frowning, and you don't look like you're ready to tear someone's head off," Evvie replied. "So what's up?"

That made me frown. "I'm not _that_ bad!" I didn't see anything that looked like support for my argument among the girls, so I looked to Adrian and Vasiliy.

The two realized they were being put on the spot, so they looked away - Adrian to his food, and Vasiliy in the general direction of the Berets, to avoid having to answer.

"C'mon," I continued plaintively, "I'm not that bad."

"Not all the time," Laurie chuckled, "but we were starting to wonder if _anything_ could pull you out of your funk."

"Besides the subject of your poster," Naomi added cryptically, winking at me.

It was Laurie's turn to frown. "Poster? What poster?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. While Evvie and Naomi knew of my relationship with Debra, and our rather intimate poster, Laurie and the others didn't, and I intended to keep it that way.

"Did you get a pass to skip martial arts? Is that why you're so happy?" Adrian plopped right back into the conversation.

"No," I frowned, absently rubbing my shoulder where I'd landed in a very limited sparring session. "Sensei Tolman worked my butt off,"

Vasiliy leaned back in his seat and looked at my rear. "Nope. Is still there. Cute, too."

I didn't have to slap him; Laurie did - and not very playfully.

"I had to spar a little, too." I winced at that memory. "I had to spar Charge."

"Isn't she a speedster?"

"Tell me about it," I snorted. "She hit me like five or six times before I could even react to the first smack! Then I got in trouble because Tatanka manifested, and I used my shield spell, when I was supposed to fight without powers."

"Oh, crap!" Laurie and Adrian said together. "Did he hurt her?" Adrian continued.

I chuckled a bit. "No. He stood across the ring, blocking me, so she couldn't get near me. And he glared at her a lot. I think she was a little intimidated." The group laughed at the mental image. "I had to make him go away, and then Charge hit me a few _more_ times, before I got frustrated and used my shield spell." I shook my head. "I couldn't get _near_ her, she's so fast, and she hit me and threw me like I was a rag doll."

"You didn't have any ... troubles ... like yesterday, did you?" Evvie asked, her voice echoing her concern.

"No. Sensei Tolman has me sparring and practicing with a group of girls so that doesn't happen again. But Ito told me that I was going to have to start sparring with boys eventually." I couldn't suppress a nervous shudder. "I don't think I can handle that."

"Okay, so you didn't freak in martial arts," Naomi said. "That's a plus."

"How about magic arts? Was that okay?"

I shook my head. "I got pretty frustrated, because the way Wakan Tanka is teaching me is completely different from how Ms. Grimes teaches, and I got completely confused. And the ... two ... were still being ... rude."

"Where were you at lunchtime?" Adrian asked the obvious question. "You weren't at security again, were you?" he continued warily. "Or did you have to stay after class in magic arts?"

I laughed at that. "No, I had to meet with a few teachers and Dr. Bellows."

Evvie and Naomi shared a knowing look. "You got in trouble again, didn't you?" Evvie said with certainty.

"No, it was about my class schedule," I beamed, unable to contain my glee any longer. "I've got Avatars in first period, and instead of English in fourth period, Dr. Quintain and Ms. Bell both want me doing work-study for them. And instead of fifth period Power Theory, Dr. Quintain said he'd let me self-study if I helped his research, so I'm in French in fifth period, which means I don't have super-late night classes, and I've got avatars, and I don't have English or Algebra!"

"Work study? For the math department? Doing what?" Adrian asked.

"They want to try an experiment. There are a few students who are really pushing to take math a lot faster than the curriculum allows, and that's really a burden on the faculty, so they want me to be a TA and tutor to see if I can help self-study and tutor to get the, quote, pains in the rear, unquote, moving faster without adding work to the faculty."  I chuckled. "Considering I have more college math credit than most of the faculty, they must think I can handle that."

"So it's like a real teaching job?"

"Yeah," I grinned. "I used to tutor ... my friend," I caught myself before I slipped and revealed my gender change, "back in high school, so they want me to try. In fact, the deal hinges on whether the students want to try an accelerated program. They're supposed to get a hold of me before next week if they want to try, and then I'll have to work with Ms. Bell to have lesson and homework plans approved."

"Ugh," Naomi said with a grimace. "And that makes you happy?"

I chuckled aloud. "It's fun. And while I'm working with Dr. Quintain, he's sponsoring me for college credit for some serious graduate level classes."

Laurie shook her head, sighing. "You really _are_ a math nerd, aren't you?"

I smiled smugly at her. "Yes, I am, aren't I?"

"So, with no classes tonight, I suppose you'll sequester yourself in your room to study," Naomi suggested, chuckling.

"Not the whole night. Mr. Lodgeman's Native American group meets tonight, so I'm going to see what that's about."

Evvie leaned back suddenly, clutching her hand across her chest as if having a heart attack. "What? Kayda ... is going out?"

"Oh, knock it off."

"Kayda getting a social life is a sign of the apocalypse," Adrian joked. "We better listen for the sounds of the four horsemen!"

That set the tone for the rest of dinner - the others teased me because I was happy and was getting a social life.  All in all, it was a good evening.

**********

End of Chapter 3

A Whateley Academy Adventure

Kayda 2: Trials of a Warrior

Chapter 4 - Itukala na Suka

by ElrodW

Thursday, March 22, 2007
Whateley Academy

After dinner, Laurie, Adrian, and I went to one of the little sitting areas in the quad, where the two of them cuddled a bit while I met with Tatanka in my dream space. It was a little cool, which was fine with me; I was comfortable with weather like that, while Adrian and Laurie cuddled to keep themselves warm - and distracted.

I frowned when the bison led me toward the camp. "I thought you said that I was going to meet another spirit."

"You are," Tatanka said as he meandered between tepees toward the fire ring.

"Here? In the village?" I was confused.

"We could find Itukala anywhere, because he is so adaptable, but it is easy to find him here," Tatanka answered, lying down by the logs surrounding the fire pit.

"Itukala?" I asked, perplexed. "Okay, where is he?"

"Sit by the fire," Tatanka directed me.

Perplexed, I did so. I looked at Tatanka, who was sitting serenely, and at Wakan Tanka, who was meditating across the fire pit from me. When I frowned, Tatanka just smiled at me.

I felt something lightly tugging at my dress, and looking down, I saw a small brown rodent climbing up toward my shoulder. I did what anyone would do when confronted with an unexpected mouse climbing on his or her clothes - I practically jumped off my seat. The other thing I did was _not_ something that I was proud of; I screamed like a girl, which caused Tatanka to laugh uproariously.

The mouse dropped off my shoulder and scurried behind the log on which I sat. After a moment, his head peeked out, looking around nervously, and especially looking uneasily at me.

"Itukala," Tatanka said sternly, "you startled Wihakayda."

The mouse scampered out of its hiding place and sat on its haunches before the buffalo. "I'm sorry, great Tatanka," he squeaked. "She startled _me_!"

"I told you that she might be nervous about meeting you," Tatanka chided the mouse. "Now go meet her. She has much to learn, and you can help her."

Itukala bowed, and then nervously came before me. "I'm sorry, Wihakayda," he said apologetically. "You startled me."

I shook my head in disbelief. A mouse was going to teach me something? It wasn't like I was afraid of mice - growing up on a farm, mice and rats were a common problem, but we usually let the cats deal with them. "You startled _me_!" I countered.

"Perhaps, but you startled me more, and you're much bigger!" Itukala rebutted. "Besides, you're the one that Tatanka said is learning, not teaching." He scrambled up my dress and perched on my shoulder. "In some ways, Wihakayda," he said, "we are alike, and in some ways, we are very different."

"Oh? I suppose _you_ have been spying on me, too?" I shot a glare at Tatanka, who shrugged and looked away.

Itukala laughed, an odd sounding squeaking chuckle that could never be taken as anything angry or threatening, only amusing. "You are the Ptesanwi," Itukala said reverently. "Tatanka need not tell me important details like that. It is obvious to any who pay attention."

"Oh?" I was surprised at the revelation of what he already knew. "And what else?"

"You are young, and you make many mistakes, because you haven't learned yet," Itukala said. "You confuse what is important with what is unimportant."

"How would you know what's happening in my life?" I frowned at what he said.

"It is who I am," Itukala answered mysteriously. "Tell me, if you had a foe who wished you harm, and another with whom you'd only had a minor quarrel over a misunderstanding, which one would deserve most of your attention?"

"Easy. The one who wishes you harm."

"And yet, there are those who wish you harm that you don't concern yourself with, while you fret needlessly over issues like your instructors." He stared me unnervingly in the eyes. "Which one is unimportant?"

"The ... teachers?"

Itukala smiled. "Good. You must strive to discern the truly important from the unimportant, and then not worry about the latter."

"Okay, so I'm not so good at that. We're different."

"Not only that, but a part of being discerning is to pay attention to your surroundings, to things and events, so you are alert to danger," Itukala added. "Tell me, which animals fear me?"

"Um, none?" I guessed.

"Correct," Itukala confirmed. "Mato, the bear, Sungmanitu, the coyote, Ceda, the hawk, Wabli, the eagle, Hiha, the silent owl of the night, Igmu Taka, the cougar, Sugila, the fox, Sugmanitu Hota, the wolf, Thunkasan, the weasel, Skecathanka, the wolverine - these, and more, not only do not fear me, they hunt me. So how do I survive with so many enemies?"

"Uh, luck? Numbers?" I speculated.

"Partially," Itukala answered, but then he sat back on his haunches, still perched on my shoulder. "Luck I have. Numbers of us, there are," he squeaked in a really bad imitation of Yoda. "Sufficient, these are not. More must I have. Aware of my surroundings I must be. Like a Jedi, mmm?"

I couldn't keep a straight face. The tiny Itukala, squeaking in an amusing attempt to imitate of the ancient Jedi master, was comical. "Learn of my culture, you did!" I answered back, laughing aloud.

"In many place I can hide," Itukala replied with a grin. "In homes, schools, and even theaters. I know more of your strange culture than almost all of the other spirits, because I can watch, unobserved. And how do I know these things?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "It is because I pay attention to detail, especially my surroundings and dangers to me. I pay attention, and learn, and remember."

"Are you saying I don't do those things?" I challenged him.

"Not well. You have started," he added quickly. "You use your magic to protect yourself at times, which means that you are learning. But you place yourself in danger frequently by not paying attention to all of the details and dangers."

I frowned. "You said we are alike in some ways. But the way you're talking, it sounds like we have nothing in common."

Itukala squeaked out a chuckle. "Despite the brave face you paint, you are shy under new circumstances and events, and around new people," he said, "like me. You are determined to adapt and survive, like me, but sometimes you overdo your determination a little."

"I would call it stubborn," Tatanka butted in, earning a scowl from me, but a titter from Itukala.

"Okay," I said cautiously. "So I have a few things to learn."

Itukala looked at Tatanka. "And you told me she was too stubborn."

I frowned at Tatanka as he winced. Then I stuck my tongue out at him, only realizing too late that it was a very girly thing to do.

Laughing, Itukala hopped down from my shoulder and ran to Tatanka. The two of them seemed to be engaged in some type of conversation, and after a moment, Tatanka nodded, looking at me. I wondered what the white buffalo was up to.

"I believe it's time for you to go to your meeting," Tatanka said plainly, offering no hint of what he and the mouse had been discussing. "Your friends are waiting to escort you there."

I started at the reminder. "Oh, yeah. I guess I better go."

***************

Schuster Hall

"And of course you know Stonebear," Stormwolf said as he introduced me to some of the Native American group. Stonebear was a member of the Wild Pack, and thus one of the security auxiliaries that I'd seen off and on over the past several days.

"Nice to see you casually," I chuckled to Stonebear. He wasn't in his body armor, but was wearing traditional Paiute shirt, and he looked a little uncomfortable, almost as if he was uncomfortable without his Wild Pack armor. Stonebear wasn't as tall as Stormwolf, but he was almost as physically imposing, and no doubt many of the girls found him attractive.

"I hope you can stay out of trouble for a few days," he retorted with a grin. "It gets boring to deal with your issues time after time."

There was a trio that seemed to be inseparable; an older woman who I was told was from the local Medawihla tribe and their representative to many school affairs and boards, a young girl who seemed to be highly observant and quiet but looked nothing like the woman, and a girl who looked like she was a human-panther hybrid, with cat-like ears and blue cat-eyes. Her body was lightly furry, and everyone stayed back from her a bit, because, as Stormwolf told me, she generated a large electrical charge.

Stormwolf made sure he introduced me to the members; Lupine was very distinctive, with white hair and striking yellow eyes that seemed more animal than human. She didn't mention her tribe, but was watching me, cocking an eyebrow when I mentioned that I was Lakota.

Flux was a Chickasaw from Oklahoma; I'd seen him around Poe, but I never formally met him. He seemed a little bored by the event, which seemed common among the guys. I could tell both Stonebear and Stormwolf were itching to leave, and Flux probably wasn't far behind them.

Lifeline was interesting; whether her ash-blonde hair was due to genetics or her mutation was an open question; in either case, she didn't appear so much Native American as much as a well-tanned average high-school girl. She hailed from Kansas, so she had a refreshing down-home manner about her, unlike all those coastal big-city types that always seemed so pretentious, at least to me. She didn't mention what tribe she was from, but Wakan Tanka guessed that she was Kickapoo.

Mindfist, Rachael Harriston, from Alaska, was definitely not an exemplar, but she was still quite cute, in a Native American way. Her tall, athletic, curvy body was definitely not stereotypical Inuit, but her skin tone and hair were definitely Amerindian.

One of the other girls, who was introduced by her code name Crimson, even though someone told me her name was Felicia Kingston, was from the coastal Washington state area, and was Chinook. Her long, wavy brunette hair had a small touch of red, but that intriguing look clashed with her slate-gray eyes. She was a junior, and a member of a training team that, if rumor was to be believed, was sponsored by the Syndicate. That fit; there was a mysterious air about her, as if she was constantly on the lookout for trouble.

Bluejay, Jay Blue-Lake, was a Chumash from southern California. He seemed to have a mischievous twinkle in his eye that made me want to watch out for trickery from him. His alpha pin marked him as one of the campus elite; I couldn't help thinking that someone like him would feel he was too good to hob-nob with 'normal' students like the Native American group.

Skinwalker, a tall Apache from Arizona, seemed friendly but a little reserved. Perhaps it was just me, but he seemed to be observing me closely. It might also have been the distinctive dark tattooed designs on his arms and face that were quite unusual, and thus drew attention to himself.

It wasn't hard to guess that Slapshot was Canadian, based on the small Canadian flag pin he wore on his shirt collar. A member of the Canadian First Nations, he was from the Chippewa tribe. He looked like he was a hockey player - although he still had a full set of teeth, and he looked rather serious, like he'd forgotten how to look happy!

"And you know Stonebear," Stormwolf said with a wry smile.

"It's nice to see you without having to fill out a report afterwards," Stonebear joked. Then he frowned. "You _aren't_ going to make us fill out paperwork tonight, are you?"

"Not if I can help it," I chuckled back at him.

Stonebear grinned. "Good. I have the night off, or at least that's the theory."

Stormwolf introduced me to the final two girls present. "Mechanisma, this is Kayda," he said ineloquently. He turned to me. "You'll have to bear with her; she's one of those insufferably-arrogant Texans!' he joked.

The girl stuck her tongue out at Stormwolf, and then smiled pleasantly at me. "I've heard of you," she said, drawing a surprised look from me. "Some of the guys in the lab say that you're a gadgeteer, too." She was cute, but not exemplar-beautiful, but in the labs deep in the bowels of Whateley, that was probably more than attractive enough for the hordes of guys in lab-coats. The tiny bit of Southern drawl in her voice added charm that was probably a huge hit in the ranks of the technophiles.

"I've kind of had a thing for mechanical stuff since I can remember," I replied lightly. "My preliminary testing showed that I'm a bit of a gadgeteer."

"Good," Mechanisma smiled. "It's always nice to have other girls in the lab. Strength in numbers and all that, you know."

"And last, but not least, is Wind Runner," Stormwolf introduced me to one of the other girls in the meeting room. "She tries to keep things running when Totem is out of town," he added.

"That's been rather frequently of late," Lifeline chuckled.

"Yeah, and I heard that it's because of you," Skinwalker laughed.

Wind Runner's laugh sounded forced, and she was looking quite critically at me, although I didn't really understand why. She was pretty, and her features made Wakan Tanka guess that she was from the desert southwest - perhaps Hopi or Navajo. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, and a little thinner, almost starving-waif model thin. I was prettier, though, I realized, and her envious or critical look could easily be jealousy from a rival in the looks department. I held out my hand to her. "I'm Kayda," I said, and saw Stormwolf raise an eyebrow. "Er, Pejuta," I added quickly. It wasn't clear when I should use my code name and when I should use my real name.

"What tribe are you registered with?" Lupine asked, eyeing me cautiously. With those yellow eyes, it looked almost creepy.

I winced; Wind Runner seemed to be almost glaring at me and the attention I was getting. "Uh, I'm not," I answered, noting Wind Runner's look of triumph or relief - I couldn't tell which. "My grandmother Little Doe is full-blooded Lakota, so I'm eligible, but my brother and I haven't been enrolled yet."

"Which tribe?" Lupine asked curiously, having been listening in.

"Sicangu," I answered without hesitation. "Grandmother Little Doe grew up on the Rosebud reservation."

"I'm of the Wolf Clan," Lupine said in a hushed voice, obviously wanting to keep her tribal affiliation secret.

I felt my eyes bugged out. "According to my grandmother, that clan ... disappeared - a very long time ago."

With a wry smile, Lupine said, "The reports of our deaths are greatly exaggerated."

"Mark Twain, paraphrased," I chuckled.

Lupine seemed surprised. "Most people don't recognize the quote. Do you like literature?"

I shook my head, laughing. "No. While I do like some science fiction, I much prefer math."

"Too bad. We're always looking for new members in the Whateley Literary Club."

"The Lit Chix?" I asked, smiling. "My ... friend ... Debra told me about the club." I saw her puzzled expression. "She graduated last year, and helped save me from the MCO back home."

"Oh." Lupine wrinkled her nose. "It's the Literary Club," she reiterated, letting me know that she didn't think much of the nickname the club had acquired. "You look more than one quarter Lakota." She'd decided to change the subject, halting at least temporarily her recruitment effort.

"I got a little bonus when I manifested," I said with a smile.

A few others who were gathered around and listening in chuckled. "Yeah, we all understand _that_!" one guy laughed, imagining, I'm sure, that I was merely an exemplar who'd gotten more attractive with my manifestation. I wasn't about to disabuse anyone of that notion.

"There are several members who aren't here," Stormwolf explained, as if excusing the small turnout. In fact, it was a little larger club than I'd expected, and if some weren't here, the Native Americans were well-represented on campus - perhaps more-so than in the population as a whole. I wondered about that; were Native Americans more likely to manifest? Perhaps it would be something to ask Charlie Lodgeman about sometime - if I remembered.

"You probably know Riptide; she's from Poe."

"Yeah, she's a couple of doors down from me," I explained.

"Another one from Poe is Heyoka," Stormwolf continued. "Thunderbird, Mule, and Hardsell round out the guys, and Aztecka, Swoop, and Pristine are the rest of the girls. When they're here, that is," he added.

"Sounds like a rather diverse group," I said casually.

"There are others who aren't members, despite being enrolled in various tribes."

Some of the group seemed rather puzzled to see Stormwolf present, and I was certain that rumors were going to start, because Stormwolf and the Wild Pack had been spending a lot of time watching and escorting me. I felt a slight tinge of nausea at the thought of even salacious rumors about me and _any_ guy. Knowing the connections and friendships that existed, I didn't doubt that someone was still in touch with Debra, and she'd eventually hear some of these rumors. That, in turn, meant that I'd have to talk to her first, just in case.

The meeting was actually rather boring, with a little drumming and singing of traditional songs, plus a Navajo game. By the end of the meeting, I understood why Stormwolf didn't attend many meetings. Still, it was socializing a little, which I hadn't done.

Just as we were about to break up, Mr. Lodgeman arrived. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "I've spent the last several days helping with a couple of ... urgent research projects, including a marathon day and a half at HPARC in the Black Hills. If they hadn't had a warper bring me back, I wouldn't be back until late tomorrow." His face lit up in a smile when he saw me, and he changed direction to come to the little group I was talking with. "Kayda," he said as he clasped my hands, "it's good to see you. How are you adjusting to Whateley?"

I guess that my derisive snort gave away a general mood. "It's been ... different," I admitted, stealing a glance at Wind Runner, who'd looked like she'd sucked on a lemon. I gathered, from the way things went, that she was expecting Mr. Lodgeman to talk to her, since she was the putative head of the group, and she was highly upset that he'd come to me first.

Mr. Lodgeman chuckled. "I understand you've had a few problems." He shot a glance at Stormwolf, who was standing near me.

"A few," I admitted. "Nothing as bad as back home, but ...." I shrugged, not wanting to say more in front of others, even though Stormwolf probably knew eighty percent of what I might have told Mr. Lodgeman.

"Dr. Bellows has kept me informed. I understand he got your classes straightened out today?"

I couldn't help but grin at that. "Yeah. But I have to figure out if I want to work with Ms. Bell as a TA or do work-study with Dr. Quintain."

Around me, jaws fell. I was new on campus, and I was being recruited to be a teaching assistant in the math department.

"Get ahold of me tomorrow when you get a chance. Since I'm your official advisor, I'd like to meet to review your schedule and plans." He started to turn away, and then turned back, like he had an afterthought. "I need to talk with you about your ... adventures while traveling here."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Mr. Lodgeman, can I ask a question?"

"Yes?"

"Why is this group only informal? If it was a recognized group, it could use campus resources, and maybe even have a reserved meeting hall or hangout."

Some of the guys around me perked up a bit at that suggestion. "I don't think anyone's ever suggested it," Mr. Lodgeman answered with an interested expression.

"And ... um ...." I wasn't sure I wanted to continue.

"Go on, Kayda," he prompted me with a smile.

"Uh, Wakan Tanka was telling me I should learn some, um, traditional fighting skills," I managed to stammer. "You know, like the bow, lance, and tomahawk. And, um ...."

Around me, the jaws repeated their downward trip, but whether that was from my name-dropping, or from my suggestion, I couldn't tell. Mr. Lodgeman, however, wasn't one of those surprised. "And you were wondering if perhaps this group might be a place to learn and practice those skills, right?" For not being an esper or telepath, Mr. Lodgeman was dead-on reading my intentions.

"Yeah. I mean, maybe it'd be cool if we went out camping native style, and had some skills games and challenges. And cooked and ate some traditional foods."

Stormwolf chuckled. "In case you hadn't noticed, Kayda," he said, "there aren't a lot of buffalo to hunt around these parts anymore."

"But perhaps we could simulate some hunts and such," Mr. Lodgeman countered. "You know, Kayda, that might be a very good idea you had. If you kids were a formally-recognized group, you could use the simulators to do more ... adventurous ... native skills."

"Like a buffalo hunt," Lupine said, grinning.

Mr. Lodgeman laughed. "That might be a lot of fun. I have to warn you, though, that if, and I repeat, _if_, you get formal recognition, do _not_ get your hopes up of seeing me putting on a sim suit and chasing after buffalo!"

"I don't think Tatanka would let _me_ weasel out of that," I said with a grin.

Lupine eyed me warily. "Tatanka? Wakan Tanka?" She obviously recognized the names, and probably the importance.

I realized that I'd said too much. I glanced around nervously, and then looked at Lupine, and gestured to one side with a very small head tilt and sideways glance with my eyes. She caught my hint, and when I excused myself, she followed discretely.

"So, what's up with Tatanka and Wakan Tanka?" she asked again when we were away from the others.

"Um, my avatar spirit is Tatanka," I said hesitantly.

"Pretty cool," Lupine replied. "You've got a buffalo spirit. How does that tie in to Wakan Tanka?"

"No. Not _a_ buffalo spirit. _The_ buffalo spirit. White Tatanka." After I spoke, I wondered if I should have kept my mouth shut.

"_The_ white Tatanka?" Lupine's eyes were wide as saucers. "That is _sooo_ cool!"

"Yeah, well, most of the time he's pretty cool, but sometimes he's a pain in the rear." I glanced around. "On the honor of the Wolf Clan, I have to ask you to not tell anyone."

"It will be secret," she said solemnly. "Does Mr. Lodgeman know?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He dream-walked with me to help me understand my spirits." Oops. I should have used the singular form. Fortunately, either Lupine didn't notice, or she ignored what I'd just said.

"And Wakan Tanka?" Lupine asked, her voice carrying a bit of reverence and awe.

I shrugged. I couldn’t tell her that I was the Ptesanwi. "She ... sometimes speaks to me," I explained cautiously, "in my dreams."

Lupine's eyes narrowed as she studied me carefully. I felt intimidated by her piercing gaze, but eventually, she just nodded. We conversed a while longer more; I was curious about the wolf clan, and she was curious about what I knew of my tribe - which sadly was only what Grandmother Little Doe had taught me.

"You've got to come back, especially when Heyoka is here," Lupine said eagerly. "He'd be so interested in talking with you."

"Your tea," Wakan Tanka called to me as I sat down by the fire pit, handing me a gourd full of her magic brew.

"Who is Heyoka?" I asked. "I was young when Grandmother told me the stories - _if_ she did. I don't really remember anything."

Wakan Tanka had a puzzling expression. I couldn’t tell if she was upset or concerned or amused. "Heyoka is ... the sacred clown. He is a jester and clown, and most importantly, he is a teacher."

"A clown - as a teacher?"

"Heyoka is a contrary Wakan person. If this Heyoka of whom Lupine speaks is truly Heyoka, heir of the tradition of Black Elk, then he holds the spirit of the Wakinyan, the thunderbird."

"What do you mean, contrary? What is his role?" I was curious about this sacred clown.

"Heyoka acts backwards. If food is scarce, he will complain about being full. In the cold snows, he will wander around naked complaining about how hot it is."

"That sounds ... stupid." I took a big sip of tea.

"Heyoka teaches through satire by making the People think. Heyoka says those things people are afraid to say, and challenges beliefs that people aren't really certain of."

I nodded. "That sounds like one of my teachers back home."

"What is Heyoka doing here?" Wakan Tanka asked, which I took as a rhetorical question. She sighed, and looked at me. "You must find out. Heyoka's presence here, so far from our ancestral lands, is odd."

"Some would say the same of Ptesanwi and Tatanka," I said with a smirk.

Wakan Tanka frowned. "You have been spending far too much time with Tatanka. He is being a bad influence on you."

When I snapped out of my dream space, I noticed that Mr. Lodgeman was watching me, not like I was in trouble or like I was doing something wrong, but like he was merely observing. He disengaged from the conversation around him and meandered over to me.

"Another dream walk?" he asked with a knowing smile.

I shrugged. "Sometimes, Wakan Tanka wants to talk to me. Sometimes, I need to talk to her. It's a convenient break at times."

He laughed. "Just don't make a habit of doing that during your classes."

After a while, the group started to break up, so I decided that maybe I should go back to Poe to do some studying. Stormwolf had left earlier, with a promise that two security officers would escort me to Poe. When I protested, he was adamant; there was something unknown afoot, and Chief Delarose wasn't taking any chances with me.

Mr. Lodgeman called for the security guards when I was ready to leave. He, too, wasn't about to take a chance with my safety. I had to wait until two guards showed up outside our meeting room, one glancing in and scanning the room.

"My chaperones are here," I told Mr. Lodgeman, rolling my eyes at the thought that I'd require a security escort. "I bet I look like a total weenie."

"You aren't going to buck orders again, are you?"

I sighed. "No, sir." I walked out to the waiting guards.

Their eyes fixed on me. "Kayda Franks?" one of them asked politely but firmly. His nametag read Lindon.

"Yes," I answered, feeling more than a trifle nervous.

"We're to escort you back to your cottage," Officer Lindon spoke.

I glanced at the second officer, feeling a bit wary for some reason. "Hi," I said, putting on a smile."

The second officer, Matthews from the nametag on his uniform, didn't answer, or so much as blink, but he stared at me with an impassive, creepy look in his eyes.

"Lyle is pissed that his favorite basketball team isn't going to the final four," Officer Lindon laughed. "He's been glaring at people and growling since he came on shift."

With a wave back to Lupine, I started toward the stairs.

"Elevator. The tunnels are safer," Matthews said firmly. There was absolutely no emotion in his voice, and the vacant stare in his eyes was really getting on my nerves.

Neither officer said anything in the elevator, and once in the tunnels, we walked for a ways, while Officer Lindon made small talk about Whateley - he understood I was new here, how did I like it, where was I from. Standard issue chit-chat. The second officer, though, was stone-cold silent, and when I stole a glance over my shoulder, his eyes seemed to be intently focused on me. He was making me very nervous, so I turned back to chat with Officer Lindon

The sudden click and a boom echoed strangely in my ears as sound reverberated from the tunnel walls. Startled, I turned around - and my jaw fell open. The second officer, Officer Matthews, had his rifle leveled at Lindon, and wisps of thin vapor still drifted from the barrel. Lindon's eyes were wide open, and his body was sliding down the wall of the tunnel, leaving a red smear behind staining the rock.

Expressionless, Officer Matthews swung his heavy firearm toward me, his murderous intent only too clear. I barely had time to invoke a shield before the gun barked again, and then four more times in rapid succession. Sparks flew from my shield at the impact points of the bullets, and the shield itself was severely weakened by the sheer energy that the impacts of five thirty-caliber bullets had imparted to it. I had no idea how much more the shield spell would last under that ferocious assault.

I did what anyone would do in such a situation - I turned and ran, blindly and frantically, while behind me, the rifle barked again and again, and my magical energy was being drained to hold up the shield, the only thing that was keeping me alive. I turned down a hall, which I thought led to an elevator, or at least should go past other labs.

From one door, a couple of heads poked out, curious about the sound echoing through the halls, but when they heard more shots and saw Officer Matthews chasing me, firing, they ducked back into the lab, and I heard the door being bolted shut. Damn - if I'd have been six or seven feet further down the corridor, I could have ducked in too. When I saw the door more closely as I sprinted past it, I realized that would have done no good. The door didn't look nearly heavy enough to stop the rifle.

I ducked down one side hall which dead-ended in a stairwell that only went down. Terrified, hoping for the best, I dashed down the stairs, hearing his heavy boot-steps running behind me. I exited and ran to a T in the corridors, and without thinking, I sprinted to the left, figuring that most people went right, and if Officer Matthews hadn't seen me, he might run to the right as well. Anything for a little extra space between me and the murderous security officer.

I hadn't fooled him, and he was following me like a bloodhound. I passed an elevator, but instinct told me that even if a car was there, waiting, by the time the doors shut, Officer Lyle would have caught up and I'd be dead.

What the hell was this guy's problem? I knew some security officers didn't like me, but this was ridiculous! He was trying his best to kill me! And if that wasn't bad enough, it was late, and the tunnels were mostly empty because it was nearing curfew.

Another shot rang out, and I felt my shield take the impact. I didn't know how, but I was grateful that it was still there, because I knew that I'd have long since been dead without it.

Around a corner was another door, so without bothering to think, I crashed through it. Damn - another staircase that only went down. I cursed the tunnel designers who apparently hadn't planned any emergency exits with stairs that went up, or at least not any close to where I needed them.

As I passed a landing at different tunnel level, I heard the distinctive sound of boot steps on the stairs above me, I kicked the door open, and then using its slamming to hide my own footsteps, I slipped quietly down to the next level, grateful that I was wearing my moccasins because they were silent.

I huddled by the door the next level down, eyes wide with fear, as the door above crashed open and heavy boots clomped out of the stairwell. The sound paused for a moment, and I figured that Officer Matthews was looking or listening for me in the corridor above.

Quietly, cautiously, I pried open the lower door, and eased myself out into the maze of tunnels, doing my best to keep the door closing silent. Unfortunately, as the door shut, the latch slipped past the metal frame and into the striker plate, making an audible click that sounded like it was a hundred decibels. Eyes wide with fear, I dashed down the tunnel, randomly taking branches as I struggled through the maze. Behind me, I heard the door crash open and running footsteps pursuing me again. I dashed along the halls, hoping to find some way to escape the crazed officer.

Something seemed familiar about this corridor. I turned, and within fifty feet, I ran headlong into a security guard outside a restricted lab area. He looked up at me sharply. "Do you have authorization ...?"

"He's trying to kill me!" I screamed. "Matthews is trying to kill me! You've got to help!" The phrase panic-stricken was completely inadequate to describe the terror I felt.

The officer's countenance instantly changed; what I had said sounded serious, but he was professional enough to know that I might be a ruse. His hand slipped down to his sidearm as he stood, giving him freedom of motion. "Who is trying to kill ...?"

Officer Matthews came around the corner, following my screamed pleas for help. Impassively, as he slowed to a stop, he raised his rifle and deliberately and callously shot the officer at the security station. I watched as the man crumpled, bleeding, and I turned back, confused, scared, and knowing that I was probably going to die. "Why?" I asked simply, feeling my eyes crying at what I'd seen and what I was certain was about to happen.

"You won't escape me this time, Wihakayda." The words came out of a sneer, but they sounded forced, like Officer Matthews wasn't used to speaking. He swung his rifle toward me, and time seemed to nearly stop. I realized, belatedly, that he'd spoken Lakota, and further, he'd called me by the name Wakan Tanka used. What the hell was going on?

I cast my spell again, but found that my magic energy was nearly drained. Still, it stiffened the shield enough to deflect two bullets from near point-blank range. There was only one thing I could think of. Tatanka manifested on command, and after a moment to understand the situation, he turned and charged toward Officer Matthews.

Shots rang out, and I screamed in agony as it felt like my guts were being torn asunder. One after another, three bullets hit Tatanka before he head-butted Officer Matthews sharply. The transference of pain from Tatanka to me was definitely a down-side to being able to manifest the brute, even if he was a good fighter.

The deranged officer dodged at the last second, avoiding the horn which would have ripped him open like a paper bag, but he was still tossed across the hall. His dexterity, however, was amazing, and he landed on his feet, getting another shot into Tatanka while the white bison turned. I felt the searing pain of the shot, and it staggered me.

Tatanka was losing his effectiveness, but he still had fight in him. He swung his head sharply, and I saw the spray of blood and guts as he tore open the belly of Officer Matthews.

The officer stopped, and looked down at his horribly mutilated abdomen, and then he laughed. "You have to do better than that, Wihakayda!" With his intestines spilling out of the open, bleeding wound, he shot at Tatanka, this time having switched his gun to fully automatic, and I felt a row of spikes driving into my own body as Tatanka's pain was transferred to me.

This time I did slip backwards, falling against the downed officer who Officer Matthews had so callously murdered. I was fighting the searing pain transferred from my white buffalo, agony through my entire torso as the rampaging officer put shot after shot into Tatanka, until finally, too damaged to maintain his manifestation, Tatanka vanished in a wisp of cloud.

Officer Matthews turned toward me, his face still expressionless, but his voice taunting. "The bitch chose poorly, didn't she Wihakayda?" Without monologueing, which I'd secretly hoped he'd do, giving me a second or two to think of something, anything, that I could do. I was out of options. There was only one thing left in my bag of tricks - I cast my ghost-walking spell.

When I saw the look of confusion on Officer Matthew's face, I realized that the spell had hidden me. Almost too late, I rolled to the side when I realized that Matthews would probably shoot where he'd last seen me. The shots were fired blindly, and one ripped into my left thigh, a red-hot poker of flesh-rending pain that made me scream. I lost my focus even as a second shot tore into my ribcage on my side, probably shattering ribs, and the silvery hue around Officer Matthews vanished as my ghost-walking spell collapsed. I tried, desperately, to pull myself back, as if somehow getting myself a few inches further from that deadly thirty-caliber rifle would spare me. It was a foolish hope.

Until my hand hit something metal. I knew instantly, as I slid backward through the pool of my own blood and that of whatever officer had been gunned down moments ago, what the object was. But I had no time. Officer Matthews raised the gun, and I could see his finger squeezing the trigger. I closed my eyes, flinching, knowing that death was milliseconds away.

The loud click caught me by surprise, but it was an even bigger surprise to Officer Matthews, or the thing that was animating him, for he was clearly being powered by some unnatural force that wasn't disturbed by having rent human guts cascading from his belly. I had a good idea of what that force was, unfortunately.

As he snarled, and then reached for a magazine, I clutched at the foreign object I'd backed into, and my eyes wide with fear, I pulled the handgun up beside me. I knew the gun well from its feel, and from having seen it on many security officers - it was a standard issue Beretta 92FS. My mom had one, and I'd cut my teeth shooting handguns with it.

Agony ripped through me as I tried to bring the gun up two-handed. My leg and ribs sent wave after wave of pain through me, and the damage sustained by Tatanka had transferred to me and seriously weakened me. The sight picture blurred and wobbled all over, defying my attempts to line up on Officer Matthews, while he slapped home a fresh magazine and reached for the bolt release.

The Beretta barked once, twice, and then over and over. Officer Matthews staggered, but kept struggling to raise the rifle toward me, while I fired shot after shot into his head and upper torso. The Beretta slide locked open as my hand fell to the ground and my vision faded to gray.

***************

Doyle Medical Complex

Slowly, sound filtered back into my brain. I wasn't sure quite what it was at first, but I could hear people talk loudly, noisily, and with a great sense of urgency. I didn't try to open my eyes at first, though.

"How's her blood pressure?" someone asked. It sounded like Dr. Guitterez, who I'd met in the ER only days before.

"Eight-five over fifty-five, but it's stable."

"She's lucky she's a regenerator," I heard the doctor say. "Or she wouldn't have made it this far."

I felt something tugging at my clothes, and through the pain, it felt a little drafty. I moaned, trying to ask what was going on.

"She's conscious," I heard the doctor say, concerned. "Get her under, stat! Is the OR ready?"

Moments later, there was a slight burning sensation in my arm, and then the pain started to fade as a mask was slipped over my face.

***************

Friday, March 23, 2007 - shortly after midnight

"I think she's coming around," a voice said. I didn't recognize who had spoken. "Kayda? Kayda, can you hear me?"

I tried to open my eyes, but they refused to respond. My throat felt raw, and my mouth was dry. "Uhhh," I mumbled, trying but unable to form a word.

"Kayda, don't fight. Lie still and let the anesthesia wear off."

I was content to follow that advice because I hurt too much and didn't have the strength to do much more. I let the world of dreams and shadows reclaim me.

***************

Gradually, I managed to pry open an eye, but I flinched at the bright lights. "Sore," I croaked.

"Open up, Kayda," someone said. "It's an ice chip for you to suck on to moisten your mouth." I let them slip the ice into my mouth. The cool liquid melting from the sliver of ice soothed my throat and helped dissipate the gunk I felt was gumming up my mouth.

"More," I croaked, a little less hoarsely. I managed to open my eyes enough to see a nurse standing beside me, leaning over toward me to slip me another ice chip. I let myself sag back, and I seemed to float away again as my brain tried to process the information that didn't make sense. I was in a hospital room, and the clock that I'd spotted behind the nurse seemed to indicate around two thirty. Two thirty? Morning or afternoon? How long had I been out?

"Kayda? Kayda, can you hear me?" It was Mrs. Shugendo's voice. Oh shit, I was in really deep trouble if Mrs. Shugendo was here personally. That meant it was two-thirty in the afternoon, which in turn meant I'd been out for about seventeen hours.

I moaned, or something, still not wanting to open my eyes and admit the searing pain of the bright lights. My head hurt anew. When I'd passed out, I must have hit it again.

"Kayda, can you hear me?" Mrs. Shugendo asked again.

"Uh huh," I mumbled affirmatively.

"Can you tell us what happened? Do you remember?" Ms. Hartford asked insistently.

Crap. I was in deep trouble if both Mrs. Shugendo and Ms. Hartford were there. "Unh," I mumbled, feeling fatigue washing over me, making me want to shut my senses and sleep. But there was something I had to tell them. The problem was that my head felt like it was swimming and my thoughts wouldn't coalesce, and I had almost no strength.

"Kayda," another voice said, "This is Chief Delarose. Do you know what happened?" I didn't need his intro to recognize his voice, too. I'd spent way too much time in his company already.

"Officer ... tried ...." My voice faded off as I fought fatigue again. I just wanted to go to sleep. "Unh ...."

"Who shot you? Officer Matthews?" It was the Chief speaking.

"Uh huh," I muttered softly.

"Did he shoot Lindon and Hicks, too?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, even more softly.

They must have thought I'd fallen asleep, or had slipped into unconsciousness again, when in reality I was just too tired to respond. Ms. Hartford curtly asked the Chief, "What happened?"

Chief Delarose didn't sound happy. "Based on a quick view of the security footage, Matthews turned his gun on Lindon without warning and shot him, then fired multiple times at Kayda. It appears that she had some kind of shield or force generator, because nothing hit her, and there are some energy flares close to her at the times Matthews shot. She ran, and ended up going down to the fourth level, with Matthews following her. Kayda stopped outside the restricted biolabs, presumably to ask for help from Hicks. Matthews arrived and shot him, and fired at Kayda again. She manifested her buffalo, which Matthews fired repeated at, the buffalo demanifested, and then Matthews had to reload. That's when Kayda used Hicks' gun to shoot and kill Matthews. It was thirty-five seconds from Matthews' first shot until Kayda stopped him. We didn't even get an alert to the whole team or get to lockdown." He sounded very frustrated by his last bit of news. "We were lucky the first teams found Kayda and Lindon so quickly."

"What is going on with her?" Mrs. Shugendo asked, the frustration in her voice clear as a bell. "Psychic intrusions and harassment is one thing, but blatant attempted murder, and by a security officer?"

"The doctors said Lindon will make it. Hicks, though ...." The chief's voice trailed off, and I knew what he meant without having to hear the words.

"Damn."

"Some of the men were saying that Matthews was acting funny all day today. There are several peculiar facts here. What has Louis' attention is that, in the footage, it looks like Kayda's buffalo all but disemboweled Matthews, but he stood in place as if nothing happened. How many people do you know who can continue fighting when their guts have been put through a blender?"

Ms. Hartford whistled softly. "What causes a security officer to become homicidal like this? And to continue to fight even though, by all rights, he should have been mortally wounded and down?"

"Louis thinks some demon force was animating him. It's the only thing that would explain his ability to fight after the gut injury. He very specifically stated that no-one touch Matthews' body, but that we get someone from Psychic Arts or ARC Black Section to come and take a look. He thinks it might be ... contaminated by something ... nasty."

I tried to open my eyes, but I was too tired. "Unhce ...." I mumbled.

"What?" Both Hartford and Delarose asked.

"Unh ... ce ... gila," I finished saying. Just talking was sapping all my strength.

"Get Reverend Englund to have a look. He's dealt with this kind of thing before."

"I already contacted him. And I got ahold of ARC. They'll call when they're at the scene. Security has a perimeter set up to keep everyone away in the meantime."

Mrs. Shugendo sighed heavily. "What do we do with Kayda? Confine her in Hawthorne for her own protection and have her attend classes remotely? Post guards? Even that won't help, as this incident illustrates."

"You're not going to like this, but I think she needs to have her magic knife back, so she has at least something to defend herself with."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Ms. Hartford said in an emotionless, analytical tone.

"And get her through safety class and authorize her to carry a pistol," Delarose added.

"Damn! I don't like having to arm students to keep them safe, and I don't like authorizing that while Mrs. Carson is out," Mrs. Shugendo muttered angrily.

"It's necessary, though," Ms. Hartford countered. "Get three guards, and have Louis scan them. No ifs, ands, or buts - they get scanned. And then post two outside this room, and one at the corridor entrance. No-one gets in to see her without being scanned by him."

"Okay," the chief answered. "I'll stay here until the guards arrive. You should try to get some rest before sunrise."

Sunrise? Did that mean it was two-thirty in the morning? Had I been out a whole day? Or just a few hours?

That suggestion was answered with a derisive snort from Mrs. Shugendo. "Are you kidding? After all this, you think I'd be able to sleep? I'll just drink a lot of coffee."

A few hazy moments later, or what seemed like moments but really could have been hours, given my state, I felt a warm hand on my forehead. "Be calm," the male voice said. "I'm Banned Aids. I'm going to do some healing on you."

"Damage ... magic, from Tatanka getting hit," I mumbled. "Not ... healing right."

Some energy seemed to be trying to get into me, but instead of relief, I felt a little nausea and some pain in my head. After a bit, Banned Aids must have stopped, because the feelings went away.

"Chief ... Unhce ... Unhcegila." I mumbled, too tired to speak more clearly, but the pieces clicked in place. The presence I'd felt from Officer Matthews, the mocking way he'd addressed me - in Lakota - it all fit.

Even in dream space, I was bandaged, and my thigh felt like it was home to a red-hot poker, while my abdomen and ribs felt a slightly higher level of pain. It was so intense that I was sweating quite profusely. I wasn't at the fire, but was lying on buffalo furs inside a tepee.

Wakan Tanka noticed that I was awake. "You are in distress, Wihakayda," she said. "Your wounds are not healing properly."

"Tatanka?" I asked, since I didn't see or feel the furry beast. "Where's Tatanka?"

"He's okay. He's resting, just like you should. His wounds would heal quickly, as quickly as yours do, but right now, he is injured."

"Why hasn't my regeneration worked? Why didn't a healing spell work?" I asked, a little bit snarky.

"The wounds are ... tainted."

"But ... can you heal me? Or can I do a healing spell on myself?"

"I dare not heal you from this," Wakan Tanka said, a sad look in her eyes. "Much as I wish I could."

"But ... why not?"

"The cost to you is too high." She saw my puzzled look. "I told you once before that there was a cost when I directly performed magic on you. I can give you some raw magic energy, and I can instruct you, but when I send more than a trickle of magic to you, such as a healing spell, it builds up interference between my realm and yours."

"I don't follow. Interference?"

"It's like a fog that gets thicker. If I used too much magic, I would no longer be able to communicate with you."

"Oh." That would be really not good.

"It is a veil between our realms. The more spells I use directly, or the more energy I try to send you, the thicker the veil becomes. In a fog, even sunlight cannot penetrate clearly. So it will be between you and me."

"I'd be on my own?" I asked, frightened by her words.

"Yes. The magic I send you is like a candle at night, a small, steady magic stream to help you that slips through the veil without disturbing it. More magic, though, disturbs the veil, and it becomes thicker and less able to let magic through. If the veil is too thick, the magic won't go through at all, just as light from a candle cannot be seen in a thick fog. The stream of magic from me to you will vanish." She sighed heavily. "I almost healed you. I was preparing to, when the doctors crudely repaired the damage."

"But you didn't. Because of what it would have cost?"

"Yes, child. Because of the taint, it would have taken far more magic than the other healings, and the barrier between us would be very thick and strong."

"I was attacked ... by Unhcegila, wasn't I? Is that why you taught me of him, because you knew his attacks would come?"

"It was one of the spawn of Unhcegila that attacked you, the same one that attacked Debra in the dream world, and I believe the same one who poisoned the mind of Mishibijiw."

"So ... the taint has taken my natural healing away?"

"For now," Wakan Tanka replied. "You must rest and recover magic energy. When you have enough, I will teach you to remove the taint, and then you will heal quickly." She took her medicine pouch and quickly mixed up some tea. "This will help restore some magic energy. You must consume as much tea as you can to gain the energy you will need, that which the wauspewichakhiya Grimes calls 'essence'."

I sat back to rest, cringing at the stabbing pain in my abdomen and thigh, allowing Wakan Tanka to tend to me with some other type of herbal concoction. When she took off the bandages, the tugging made me cry out softly in pain as I flinched.

"This will help you," Wakan Tanka said as she began to gently rub a thick paste over the wounds.

"Ouch!" I couldn't help crying. "What is it? I thought that magic wouldn't work."

"It's not magic," Wakan Tanka replied. "It's a simple herbal mix which will ease your pain and help your natural healing."

"Oh. Okay." It was interesting that Wakan Tanka used traditional herbal medicines as well as her magic ones.

"I will teach you when you are healed." She sat upright suddenly, looking around the camp, her eyes narrowed.

"What is it?" I asked, struggling to sit upright but giving up when a sharp pain stabbed through my abdomen.

"Someone approaches." She focused her gaze. "He has been here several times before. He is one who helped you with your ... attack."

"Mister Geintz?" I asked.

"I believe that is his name. Should I let him into the camp?"

I started to snort at the implication, but winced instead at the sudden motion. "I don't know if we could keep him out. Yeah, let's see what he has to say."

Mr. Geintz strolled casually to the fire ring and sat down. "Good evening, Wakan Tanka," he said, surprising me because he'd spoken Lakota.

"When ... when did you learn the language, Mr. Geintz?" I asked, shocked.

Mr. Geintz chuckled. "I always like to learn new things, and since you're rather ... busy ... with security and psychic incidents, I figured it would be helpful sometime in the future. I just didn't expect to need it so soon." He smiled. "And please call me Fubar. Or Foob. It's far less formal."

"I suppose you want to talk about the latest ... incident?" I asked knowingly.

"It had crossed my mind. Do you have any idea who, or what, did it?"

I glanced at Wakan Tanka, and then nodded to him. "It was a spawn of Unhcegila," I replied. "The same one that attacked Debra in the dream world, and Wakan Tanka thinks is the one that corrupted the Mishibijiw."

"The security guard has the same ... feel ... as the Mishibijiw in that attack," Wakan Tanka added.

"That creature ... was contaminated by a Class X entity," Fubar said ominously. "It was insane because of exposure to something very ... nasty."

"What ... what does that mean?"

"It's about as bad as it can get. Worse, Officer Matthews has the same psychic feeling to him. His body is being taken to the Homestake Paranormal Activity Research Center for storage in their deepest, most secure vault."

I looked at Wakan Tanka angrily. "You didn't tell me that part about Unhcegila, or his spawn!" I said accusingly.

"Unhcegila and I are ... enemies," Wakan Tanka admitted softly. "For ages, I have battled to keep the People safe from him, while he exists only to corrupt and devour.

"So I inherited an enemy with major-league bad mojo?" I sighed, shaking my head. "Is this 'taint' you told me about something from Unhcegila's spawn?"

Fubar nodded. "Exposure to the entity contaminated even the ammunition he used, although that could have been done deliberately to stop your regeneration and healing."

"Wihakayda must rest to save her magic energy," Wakan Tanka said, "and I will teach her the spell to purify herself from the taint."

"Can ... this spread?" I asked Fubar and Wakan Tanka, worried.

Fubar shrugged uncertainly, but Wakan Tanka shook her head. "No. It should not be enough to spread to others."

"But until you get rested and clear this ... taint so you recover your regeneration," Fubar said, "you need to stay in Doyle."

***************

Friday, March 23, 2007
Doyle Medical Complex

I was resting, unable to fall back asleep. I don't know if that was because of the dawn sunlight streaming through the windows, or if it was because of what I'd learned the night before. In either case, I hurt, and the wounds weren't healing very quickly. The wound on my side had the same feeling as broken ribs; I guessed - correctly it later turned out - that the bullet had shattered some ribs, while my leg merely felt like a burning steel rod had embedded itself in my outer thigh.

A knock sounded on my door, interrupting my dream-walk. "Come in," I said.

Evvie, Laurie, and Adrian walked cautiously into the room. Evvie looked exhausted, and her cheeks were moist from crying. When she saw that I seemed to be resting comfortably, she dashed to the bed, bent over, and hugged me. "You had us all so worried!"

"How are you feeling?" Laurie asked, going to the other side of my bed.

"I'd be better if you weren't crushing me," I tried to joke to Evvie, wincing from pain. A sudden thought occurred to me. "Can you get my medicine pouch? I hope it's somewhere in here - probably with my clothes."

Evvie disentangled herself from me and looked in a small closet. "Yeah, they're here, but I think this outfit is ruined." She held it out, on the hanger, and I could see the blood stains on the shirt and skirt.

"Is my medicine pouch there?"

"Yeah."

I sighed with relief. "Good. Can you please put it where I can reach it? Wakan Tanka has a ... special ... spell I need to do later."

They visited for a while longer, with Evvie adamantly refusing my plea to get me a clean, unstained outfit, at least not until I was officially released. When a nurse came in with a tray, they remembered that they hadn't eaten yet, but despite that, they had to be chased away. After reluctantly saying their goodbyes, they scurried off to the caf, with the promise that they'd be back to visit as soon as they could.

"You're lucky," the nurse said to me as she set the tray on my bedside table.

"Gee, I really feel it," I said sarcastically.

"The wound in your side didn't hit any organs, so the doctor said you can eat real food instead of being fed through the IV line."

"Wonderful," I grumbled. "Hospital food."

"Or if you're going to be that way about it, I can just feed you through the IV," the nurse said with a wicked grin.

"Uh, no thanks."

"I figured you'd see it my way," the nurse chuckled before leaving.

I was about to eat, but I decided to try the spell first. I made a cup of healing tea to gather a little more essence, and then, alternating between the real world and my dream space, I chanted the spell as I added ingredients into a plastic cup of water.

There was a flash of magic in the cup, and I felt a huge surge of magic through my body when I sipped the drink. "Ugh!" I couldn't help saying; this brew, unlike the other, was quite bitter. Holding my nose, I drank more of the foul-tasting liquid. As with the healing tea, there was no infusion of magic from later drinks, but, just to be sure, I forced myself to down the entire contents.

The only way I could describe the sensation is that I had been dirty without even knowing it, and the brew was like a refreshing shower that left me feeling refreshed and clean. It wasn't until the taint was gone that I realized _how_ tainted I had been. At the same time, I felt tingling warmth in my thigh and in my side; I guessed that, since the taint was gone, my own healing had kicked back in. With regen and some healing potions, I'd be back on my feet in no time; in fact, I already felt quite a bit better, though I knew I hadn't completely healed.

After that refreshing feeling, eating was a pleasure. The fact that I had no internal injuries was a good sign for a quick recovery, or at least as quick as shattered ribs from a glancing shot would heal.

After finishing my breakfast, I sat back, thinking. I didn't know how long they'd keep me now that my healing had kicked back in, but I was missing an Avatars class, and possibly all of my day's classes. Magic - that wasn't going to bother me, because I was catching up quickly. Besides, I didn't really want to face Ayla and Fey. Open fourth period was supposed to have been a meeting with Dr. Quintain about the possible work-study job, but that would have to wait. French - I thought that was hopeless, so missing another day wasn't helping me. There was no power lab on Friday, so I wasn't going to miss anything here. And electronics. That was one class I really wanted to go to.

Of course, I saved the worst for last - Martial Arts, with the tyrannical midget Ito. Sensei Tolman had proven that she wasn't too bad, so I had a twinge of regret for missing that class, but since I'd heard that Ito often had the class spar on Fridays, it wouldn't be too bad if I missed that class.

I lay in my bed, awake, and having nothing to do but think. I turned to the attack the previous night. From the point where Matthews had shot Lindon, there had been enough time for me to get a shield up. But the other day, in martial arts, I'd seen one of the better students disarm and disable another student in the same amount of time it had taken for my spell. Could I have done that? And then, during the chase, there had been times where I could have had the drop on Matthews and struck him, possibly saving me from the gunshots; the stairwells had been a particularly good setup for an ambush. Then he'd run out of bullets and had to reload. During that time, I would have been able to turn the tables - if only....

I'd screwed up. Really screwed up. I was alive because of a few flukes. When he'd taken his rifle off his shoulder, I should have sensed it. Itukala would have, because he would have paid attention to the air and earth spirits, and heard even the tiny rustle of the rifle sling moving against his shirt. I messed up there, and I hadn't taken Tatanka's lessons about the spirits to heart. It had almost cost me. I'd been very fortunate that he'd shot Lindon first; otherwise, I'd have died in the first shots.

As much as I hated admitting it to myself, there was no escaping the conclusion that I _needed_ martial arts. There was something out there that wanted me dead, and I needed every advantage I could get. I _had_ to get serious about self-defense, because I couldn’t always count on being as lucky as I'd been - that time, or during the other attacks. It hit me like a hammer that until I learned to defend myself, I was probably living on borrowed time if luck was the only thing in my arsenal of weapons.

I waited and waited for a doctor to visit so I could find out when I would be able to get out of Doyle and get back to classes, but not even the nurses came in for quite a while, except to take away my tray and to give me another shot of antibiotic. It was time to take matters into my own hands.

I waited for a doctor to come by to release me; after a while, I called a nurse, and when she popped in, I asked, firmly and insistently, that I see a doctor so I could go back to my classes. After all, I _was_ feeling better, and my regen had kicked in. Eventually, I wore them down, most probably because they realized that I was going to be a pest until they _did_ let me go. Caduceus used her healing on me, and she confirmed that my regeneration was healing my wounds. With no danger of my broken ribs puncturing a lung or anything else, and with my leg healed to the point that walking around wouldn't tear it open again, she decided that I was healed enough to go to classes - with the proviso that I didn't do anything too strenuous the rest of the weekend.

My clothes were ruined; Evvie hadn't exaggerated. Even my panties were very blood-stained, like my skirt and blouse. Rather than wait for someone to get me fresh clothing from Poe, I took an old pair of sweats they had in their 'spare clothing' bin and, after a quick review with the nurse and an admonishment to take it easy for the rest of the weekend, to which I paid little attention, I walked out of the medical center. Unfortunately, I still had guards to accompany me, since they hadn't been released by Delarose. I walked briskly to Poe, feeling only a tiny amount of pain in my leg and ribs, but I wanted to minimize how many people saw me having a heavy security escort.

The escort left me once I was safely through the door at Poe, and while some girls and guys were staring strangely at me, Mrs. Horton wasn't around, which was fortunate, because I didn't want to get a lecture from her on taking it easy, and precisely what that meant. I walked upstairs, feeling a little tugging and pain in my thigh, and discovering that moving my hand along the handrail hurt my ribs. Everything hurt my ribs - breathing, moving, twisting, raising or lowering my arm.

It took a little longer to shower and get dressed than I'd planned, since I wasn't supposed to get my dressings wet, and the wounds were still a bit sore, but with another healing spell, I felt better and got myself dressed. A new pair of guards came from Kane to escort me to Laird Hall; it was early, before the first-period class had dismissed, so there weren't a lot of people around to notice me.

Having arrived at the locker room a few minutes ahead of the other girls, I sat down to rest. The injury and healing had left me tired, and now that my body was regenerating, it was using any spare energy I had. After I took a very brief breather, my clothes went onto hangers in my locker, and I began to slip on my gi, cringing a little as I started trying to pull the gi pants onto my injured leg.

The other girls who had come in were changing as well, and they were occasionally looking warily at me. I realized, belatedly, that it was because I had large bandages on my thigh and lower ribcage. Finally, Alicia came over to where I was dressing. "Are ya okay?" she asked, staring directly at my lower torso.

I nodded. "Yeah." I was, wincing a bit from pain in my ribs as I had to twist my shoulder and torso to slide my arms into my gi top. It twinged a little more than I'd expected, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I was pushing too hard. The memory of the brutal attack, and the mocking by the snake demon, though, put an end to those thoughts. I needed to be prepared for the next time we met.

"The rumor is that you were in Doyle because you'd been pretty badly hurt," she continued.

"Yeah, but I'm okay," I replied defensively.

"Are you sure?" she asked again. "Cuz if you were in Doyle, you'd be excused from class."

Charge came to join the little concern-fest. "Are you sure you want to go to class, Kayda? You look pretty weak, and you're moving like you are 'urt."

"I'm fine." I was very surprised to see her expressing concern. She'd been so arrogant and snobbish toward me in powers classes that her concern was totally unexpected. When I saw Charge also staring at the bandages, I quickly closed my gi, then I winced slightly at the twinge from cinching the belt. I sat down again, waiting for the mildly throbbing pain to ease, while the two girls watched me with concern, not believing my assurances.

After a few moments of watching me, Alicia and Charge, shaking their heads, walked out of the locker room to join the other girls on the mats. Fatigued from the long night and regeneration, I lurched awkwardly to my feet, grimacing, and went out to join the others. All eyes seemed to be on me as I lowered myself to seiza position, a task that was more difficult with the injuries that weren't yet fully healed; I seemed to be sweating a bit more than usual. I couldn't help but wonder what the rumor-mill was saying about my injuries.

Sensei Ito strode confidently to the mat, pausing to look at me as if he didn't expect me to be in my gi and in position. He didn't frown at me, which I figured was about as much approval as I was ever going to get from him, and then he addressed the class. Because Sensei Tolman was attending to unexpected business, we would have two students from his Aikido II class assisting, and we were going to spar. Sensei Tolman had told me that I wouldn't have to spar for a couple of weeks, so that I could learn some basics first. That was fine with me; my leg and ribs were shooting me an occasional twinge to remind me that they still hurt a bit. Without having to spar, I would be sitting for the class, although I'd be sitting seiza, which put a little extra strain on my thigh. Sitting still would also minimize pain in my ribs. I could watch and learn from the other students' sparring matches.

Class began, though, with a demonstration by Ito. My stomach knotted when I saw Ayla and Hank walk onto the mat toward Ito, taking positions behind him on either side, seeming to indicate that they'd be part of the class instruction or demonstrations.

"Phase is an exemplar, and thus much stronger than a baseline," Ito explained. "Lancer is a PK brick. Since some of you need reminders that powers are not necessary to fight, I will demonstrate fighting two much stronger opponents. They will not be using all of their powers, but they are nevertheless much stronger and much less vulnerable than me." Ito nodded to the two, who stepped to the center ring.

When Ito called, "Hajime," the two Kimbas separated, intending to attack Ito from two sides to keep him off balance. Ito took that initiative away from them, darting at Ayla in a flurry of punches and kicks to keep Ayla off balance. Of course, given this, Hank closed in behind Ito to strike. It seemed to me that hitting from behind was a little unsporting, but Hank wasn't bothered by rules of politeness in the sparring ring.

Ito seemed to know when Hank would hit. A half-twist of his body, and he was positioned to not only block Hank's strike, but also to step into Hank and use his own momentum against him, neatly throwing Hank over his hip, right into Ayla, who'd been using the attack from Hank to initiate his own strike. Ayla was knocked backwards, but recovered enough to stay in the ring - barely.

The fight continued like that for several more seconds; each time it looked like Hank and Ayla had an advantage, Ito turned it against the duo, using them to interfere with each other's attacks. In one case, Ayla was grappled and twisted, off balance, right into a side kick from Hank, and with a little extra help from Ito, Ayla landed with a thud outside the ring. Seconds later, Hank joined him.

They rose and bowed to Ito, and then stepped back behind him while Ito turned to face us. "Until Sensei Tolman returns from her meeting," he began, looking pointedly at me and making me squirm, "Phase will referee the beginners sparring matches, while Lancer will spar against the advanced students. To your groups."

I sighed with relief; I was far from an advanced student, and I really, really couldn't have sparred against Lancer, but that seemed almost preferable to having to deal with Ayla. Unfortunately, either was a bad choice, and it wasn't mine to make. Ito and Tolman had assigned me, quite properly I had to admit, to the beginner group that Ayla was assisting.

I cautiously levered myself off the floor and followed Phase, with Rip, Murphy, and the other beginners, to one side of the mats. I thought Alicia was looking at me with concern written on her face, but I convinced myself that it was probably my imagination. Besides, I wasn't limping, and my range of motion with my torso was improving as my regeneration slowly worked.

Warm-up wasn't much fun, because stretching hurt more than usual. My ribs hurt with a dull ache, which reminded me with a sharp stab of pain when I twisted or flexed my torso more than a little bit. I could also feel the stitches in my leg being pulled taut when I stretched my leg. I had counted on my healing spells helping heal and dull the pain, but it wasn't as effective as I thought it would be.

We knelt again, while Charge sparred with Lifeline, and then Alicia sparred with Rip. Then, to my surprise, Ayla called me to spar against Murphy. Watching Ayla warily, and feeling the twinges of pain, I stood up cautiously, wincing a couple of times as the injuries objected to my movement, and I walked slowly to the edge of the ring, trying my best to avoid visibly limping. Opposite me, Murphy took her position, and we bowed. I gasped slightly at the pain that radiated from my ribs with the simple act of bowing. Maybe this _wasn't_ a good idea. No, there were no maybes about it - this definitely _wasn't_ a good idea.

"Hajime!" Ayla commanded.

I dropped to a front stance immediately, and I cautiously approached Murphy, who was doing the same. She struck first, throwing a straight punch, which I moved to block. The sudden motion of sweeping my left arm up and out to block the punch caused pain to explode in my injured side, and because of that, I didn't complete the block, and Murphy tagged the side of my jaw. I staggered back a bit, straining my leg, and then I jabbed to counterattack, but the suddenly-increased pain was slowing me down so much that Murphy was able to easily block the blow. She swung again, this time with a ridge-hand strike aimed at my neck. I twisted, again feeling stabbing in both my leg and my ribs, and sort-of blocked her blow, but I deflected it upwards, and her hand hit my head - hard.

Through a red mist of pain, I noticed that Murphy was off-balance a little, having over-extended herself for the strike; without thinking, I shifted my balance and started a front-kick with my right leg. My actions, though, were slow and tentative because I had the constant throbbing in the leg I was trying to balance on and in my left lower ribcage.

Murphy easily deflected my kick to one side, grasping my ankle and yanking me off balance. I twisted to pull my leg free before she could punch or kick at me, and in doing so, I felt tearing in my left leg, accompanied by searing pain. I stumbled back, off balance, limping, and trying not to cry out in pain, and as a result, I couldn't move quickly enough to block a back fist which caught me in the jaw. I staggered a bit, unsteadily, because my leg and ribs were really hurting. Murphy followed with a jab that I was lucky enough to deflect right into my ribcage, causing me to reel in agony.

I don't know when Sensei Tolman came back from her meeting, because frankly, I'd been trying to survive a sparring match. "Kayda!" she shouted loudly across the gym. Distracted, I glanced toward the voice. Since no-one had told her to stop, Murphy saw her opening, and she started a roundhouse kick to follow up her punch, taking advantage of my being off balance and the distraction from Sensei Tolman.

"Yame!" Tolman called sharply and frantically as soon as she saw what was transpiring, and she began to run toward our sparring circle.

It was too late - Murphy's kick smashed into my thigh, and with pain exploding and stitches tearing free, I crumpled like rag doll as my leg gave way beneath me. My arms flailed in a futile effort to stop my fall, and I smashed to the ground on my injured left side, my left arm beneath my body with my own elbow crashing into my battered ribcage. I heard a scream that seemed a long ways off, but I knew that it was me making the loud noise, while my head was suddenly immersed in a red fog of agony. I struggled to push the pain down, and with tears on my cheeks, I struggled unsuccessfully to roll over so I could stand.

"Kayda, are you okay?" I heard Tolman's voice penetrating the fog.

Grimacing at the intense pain, I pushed myself up, crying out again when a red-hot poker stabbed into my leg again and my ribs shot pain through every nerve in my torso. Still, I had to get up. Painfully, wincing and moaning in pain, I struggled to get to my knees.

"Kayda, stop!" Sensei Tolman said as she knelt beside me, fearing perhaps that I was going to stand up.

Slowly, things were coming back into focus as the stabbing pain turned into a steady ache that registered only eleven on the pain scale. Breathing hurt, moving my torso in the slightest hurt, kneeling hurt. Thinking about the pain hurt. Everything hurt.

Ito had stopped what he was doing and had run over, staring wide-eyed at me. I realized that everyone else was also looking at me, or more specifically, around my waist. Slowly, so as not to induce any more pain, I looked down and gasped; the sudden intake of air hurt my ribs. My gi pants had a shiny, wet, red spot on them from where blood was oozing out of my re-opened leg wound, and higher up, there was a smaller but spreading crimson stain on my top. I looked up again, and saw Ayla staring at me, stunned at what he saw.

"Phase," Sensei Tolman barked, "Kayda is not supposed to be sparring!" She looked absolutely aghast at what had happened.

Ayla looked horrified and full of self-recrimination. "I ... I didn't know!" he stammered. "It wasn't marked on the instruction sheet I was given," Ayla protested weakly, his voice cracking.

"It is not your fault, Phase," Ito said firmly to calm Ayla. "As Sensei, it is my responsibility that a student was injured." He glanced at me, and I thought the look he shot my direction was uncalled for, implying with his icy glare that seemed to imply that it was _my_ fault. "Advanced students, back to the ring to complete class."

Sensei Tolman cradled my torso and gently rolled me to my back. "Stay still, Kayda," she said firmly. "What are you doing here? You know better than to do _any_ exercise with gunshot wounds." There was a collective gasp from the gathered beginners at her words.

It took a second for her words to penetrate the agony that was throbbing from my body up to my brain. "I ... I _have_ to learn!" I protested softly. "I have to be able to defend myself."

"You can't do that if you're injured," Tolman countered sharply.

"I ... I almost got killed several times ..." I stammered, fighting back tears of frustration and pain, "because I don't know _how_ to fight! I _need_ to know how."

"And we're teaching you. You just have to be patient."

"So the next one can succeed in killing me before I learn enough to defend myself?" I cried. "Do you know how many times someone has tried to kill me in the last month?"

"I know of four," Sensei Tolman answered, looking grim.

"Six, not four," I corrected her, which elicited another loud collective gasp from the girls around us.

"You won't help yourself learn if you do something stupid like this," Sensei chided me. "You risked getting a more permanent injury, or setting back your recovery by days, if not weeks." She shook her head. "You should have told Ito Soke that you were injured, and you shouldn't have tried to actively participate. You should have told Phase that my instructions were that you weren't ready for sparring yet."

"But ... it's not ..."

"No 'buts', Kayda. You have a responsibility to let your instructors know of your physical condition. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sensei," I said, blushing with embarrassment, because I knew that she was absolutely right.

Tolman sighed, shaking her head slowly. "At least you're finally getting enthusiastic about learning, which is a change for the better." She glanced around the beginners, who were still around us. "Rip, Headrush, go call Doyle and get help sent over here. Tell them Kayda reinjured herself."

***************

Doyle Medical Complex

"Kayda," Mrs. Shugendo said, staring at me and shaking her head with frustration, "what am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sorry," I said, looking down at my hands in my lap. I was back in Doyle since I'd torn all my stitches open and had broken a rib which had been merely cracked before. "I ... I thought I was healed enough to do some light training in martial arts."

"And if you'd have asked me or Sensei Ito, we'd have sidelined you," Sensei Tolman scolded me. "You know I didn't want you sparring until you learned some basics."

"I was instructed to spar," I protested in my own defense.

Sam Everheart was also sitting by my bed in Doyle. "After being shot twice, you shouldn't have been in any physical activities for two or three weeks. You can't learn to defend yourself if you reinjure yourself before you heal."

"I ...." I looked down, knowing they were right, and that I'd done something very stupid. "I need to know how to fight, to defend myself," I said softly. "I got lucky too many times. One of these days, my luck is going to run out." I sighed heavily. "I just ...." I shook my head. "I don't want to have to rely on everyone else to protect me."

"That's a much better attitude than fighting against Sensei Ito and Sensei Tolman, or trying to get Mrs. Hawkins to let you drop martial arts," Mrs. Shugendo said with a slight chuckle, trying to break the somber mood. I looked up, feeling a little hopeful. "But it doesn't excuse a stupid stunt like this," she added, making her disapproval abundantly clear.

"No, ma'am." I hung my head, embarrassed.

"The problem," Sam observed, looking directly at me, "is to get you competent as possible, as quickly as possible, and in as many disciplines as possible, so you _can_ defend yourself."

Mrs. Shugendo sighed and shook her head. "That's your instructors' problem," she said directing the comment toward Sensei Tolman. "Any ideas?"

Sensei Tolman looked at me. "Have you got any free periods?" she asked me.

"Fourth, but I was going to do work-study with Dr. Quintain during that time." I watched Sensei Tolman as she thought; one could practically see the gears turning in her head.

"You're thinking of something?" Mrs. Shugendo asked.

The sensei nodded. "I'll talk with Ito Soke, but I think he'll agree that we can put Kayda in advanced Aikido for a few weeks, and rotate the more experienced students through instructing her."

"Will he go for that? It will distract from the current students."

Sensei Tolman chuckled. "Ito was the one who told me, years ago and quite repeatedly, that part of learning is teaching. He'll go for it."

"Sam, can we get Kayda a crash course in firearm safety and whatever else is necessary for her to carry on campus?" Mrs. Shugendo asked.

Sam nodded. "I'll talk to Gunny and make arrangements." She turned to me. "You realize that with all this emphasis on self-defense training, you're going to be giving up a lot of your free time."

I snorted. "What free time? When I haven't been here or in Security, I'm doing homework to catch up." I saw the look of disapproval on Mrs. Shugendo's face at my sarcastic joke. "Okay, I'll stop being snarky." She seemed mollified by that. "Yeah, that's reasonable."

Sam glanced at Mrs. Shugendo, who nodded. "Since Louis and Dr. Bellows agree that there's no longer a suicide threat, I think that Kayda should get her knife back, too."

"Okay." It was very difficult to not be excited by that; I'd felt naked without Wakan Mila. As Wakan Tanka had told me, I'd magically bonded with the knife.

"But I still want her escorted everywhere she goes," Mrs. Shugendo said in a steely tone. "What else can we do?"

I pondered whether I should mention what my spirit had requested, and then decided that this was as good an opportunity as any. "Wakan Tanka wants me to learn traditional Native American weapons and combat forms and skills that she thinks might be helpful."

"That might be a tough one," Mrs. Shugendo said. "Let me make some inquiries to see if I can find a suitable tutor." She glanced at Sensei Tolman. "Amanda, you can get back to your class. If you need or think of anything more, let me know ASAP."

Amanda Tolman nodded, and then departed, leaving me, Sam, and Mrs. Shugendo. A moment later, we were joined by Fubar. There followed a very detailed discussion about the snake demon, and what I knew about him. At Wakan Tanka's urging, I became Ptesanwi, which surprised Mrs. Shugendo and Sam; Fubar had seen me merge before, so he just smiled knowingly as Sam and Mrs. Shugendo tried to not show their shock. With us joined as Ptesanwi and channeling Wakan Tanka, we were able to speak more authoritatively about Unhcegila and his spawn.

We saw much concern on the faces around us as we told what we knew of Unhcegila, which was quite a bit. Despite the efforts of many warriors over the years, none had managed to kill Unhcegila because of how dangerous he was; even his spawn were terrible foes in battle, destroying nearly all of those who'd set out to slay them.

From a very careful psychic examination of the corpse of Officer Matthews, Fubar knew the psychic signature of possession by the snake demon, so he would be able to monitor for signs of another attempted possession. The magical wards around the school should keep anything physical away from Whateley. I _should_ be safe. Safer. Of course, I should have been safe in the first place.

"Is there anything else?" Mrs. Shugendo asked, signaling an end to the discussion.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "If I promise not to do anything physical, can I get back to classes after lunch?"

Mrs. Shugendo rolled her eyes in disbelief at my comment. "No," she said firmly.

"But ...."

"No. You're going to be a special student in fourth period martial arts, and knowing how ... stubborn you can be, you'll probably go to class and overdo it again," Mrs. Shugendo said firmly.

"I promise ..."

"To stay here and rest, and take your French class remotely," Mrs. Shugendo directed. "And then, if Dr. Tenent is satisfied, she'll let you return to your last class for the day."

"Okay," I agreed unhappily. I might have been able to weasel out of directions from the doctors, but Mrs. Shugendo was the third highest authority, and she acted like she knew, probably from first-hand information from Mom, that I had a tendency to stretch instructions and directions to suit my own goals. She wasn't going to give me any wiggle room.

************

"Wakan Tanka," I asked, sitting by the fire, "why does Unhcegila's spawn come after me so relentlessly?"

"Because, child," my spirit said calmly, "Unhcegila knows that you will be a powerful Ptesanwi when you grow and learn. He seeks to destroy you before you have enough power to stop him."

"I feel vulnerable," I confessed, looking down at the ground. "I don't know much, and I can't stop him."

"The chief of this school has a plan to help you learn more quickly," she replied. "It is as good as you are going to be able to do."

"I ... I don't think I can handle the advanced martial arts class," I stammered after thinking a bit. "I barely know anything from the basic class."

"The wauspewichakhiya sapa, your instructor, has a plan to help you learn quickly."

"I ... I don't think I can learn in a class that is that advanced."

"Think of the trials, Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said. "How does a young man train to face the trials? Does he train and fight with other children?"

"No," I answered. "He trains and learns from warriors who have proven their skill."

"The wauspewichakhiya sapa knows this. She wants you to train against experienced braves, not against other children."

"But ... I can't win against them if we spar!" I protested. "I know so little compared to the advanced students."

"Of course you won't win, not at first. No warrior does. But through diligent training, you _will_ learn how to win by practicing, making mistakes, and learning from your errors."

"It seems so ... overwhelming."

"And it does to any young man when he begins to train to be a warrior. So it is with you. But you must be persistent and eager to learn."

"I suppose."

"Now, there is one more lesson you must learn for the day, a very important lesson."

I sighed. "Is this where Tatanka leads me out to meet another animal spirit?"

Wakan Tanka laughed. "No. Even in the dream world, you must rest. The spirit you must learn from is in our village."

"Another mouse?" I asked sarcastically.

"No." As she spoke, a dog came running to me. He was a mutt, a brownish-grey dog about halfway between a beagle and a German shepherd in size. There was something about his expression that made it impossible to feel gruff or angry. His eyes were bright and cheerful, and he panted like he was eager to please whomever he met.

"Wihakayda," Wakan Tanka said, "this is Suka."

"You want me to learn ... from a dog spirit?" I asked incredulously.

"Suka is more than just a dog," Wakan Tanka chided me. "Your Kusi, your grandmother, must not have taught you of the role of Suka in the lives of the People."

"No."

"Before the coming of the horse, the dog helped pull the travois when we moved camp. The dog helped hunt, helping to drive the buffalo over the cliff jumps or toward the hunters. The dog was a guard, helping watch over the village at night and during the day, wary of strangers and intruders, alerting the village to danger. Suka is very important spirit to the People."

"Oh. I, uh, didn't know that."

"Now you do," Suka said to me, nuzzling me like a big puppy.

"What do you have to teach me?" I asked as I scratched behind his ears, just like our farm-dog Boo used to love. In return, he licked my wrist in appreciation.

"I am a guardian, a watcher for danger. You, too are a guardian."

"Humpphh," I snorted. "Some guardian. I'm the one being attacked all the time. I'm the one who needs a guardian."

"No, Wihakayda, you are learning to be a guardian," Suka replied. "You need to use your senses to alert you to danger. And you _will be_ a guardian."

"Guardian of what?"

"Did you not enter the world of dark dreams to protect your beloved? Did you not risk your life for hers? Did you not use your magic to keep her safe?" Suka asked knowingly.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Even now, untrained, you are a guardian, and you will become a greater guardian. That is Ptesanwi's role - to watch and protect the People." He looked at me with sad eyes. "Did not Wakan Tanka tell you that?"

I started to deny it, but then I remembered that she _had_ so informed me. "Yeah," I muttered. "She did."

"Is a guardian always loved by those who he watches?"

"Uh, I'm guessing 'no', because of the way you worded the question."

Suka chuckled. "No, he is not. A guardian must use powerful force to protect his wards, but when there is no danger, that same power can frighten them. A guardian directs those who he guards to do or to not do certain things to protect them. Sometimes, those being protected fear the power of their guardian. The sheepdog is a cousin to the wolf, even though he protects the sheep. When there is no threat, the sheep may begin to fear the sheepdog because he reminds them of the dangerous wolf. Sometimes, those being guarded don't always listen, and they rebel against the guardian."

I thought of Mom and Dad, always setting rules that my brother and I didn't understand and didn't like. _We_ rebelled against the rules frequently, and sometimes resented our parents for setting such rules. "Yeah. I guess I did that to my parents, too."

"But your parents, your guardians, didn't cease in their duties, did they?"

"No."

"Because they knew their roles as protectors and guardians. They didn't take the disagreements personally, but instead continued to watch and guard and love their charges."

"But ... what does that have to do with me here and now?" I asked, puzzled.

"In a way, your instructors are your guardians. But you disagree with them, and rebel against their directions, right?"

I hung my head in shame, nodding slowly. "Yes.

"Do you think they take your rebellion and disagreement personally?" Suka asked. He lay down beside me, his head in my lap. "Or do they continue to do their job, like proper guardians?"

"They ... do their jobs, regardless," I answered softly.

"What happens if you neglect or yell at a dog? Does he sulk and rebel? Does he run away? Does he deliberately disobey you more?"

"No."

"That is because a dog _is_ unconditional love and forgiveness," Suka explained. "He serves his role, sometimes overlooked, sometimes chastised, but always, he loves those he serves. If a person strikes him, he doesn't strike back, but instead forgives and continued to offer his companionship and his love, right? He has to; he could not be a good guardian if he didn't."

"Why?" I was confused again. "They hurt him. They wronged him."

"Think of his role - he carries the burdens of the hunt and the gathering back to the village. When the village moves, he carried the dwellings from place to place. Is that not enough of a burden to carry without also carrying resentment and anger in his heart?"

I sat silently, contemplating his words, unable to reply or protest because his words struck a little too close to home. I _was_ carrying a burden of anger. But they deserved it. Didn't they? I was starting to have my doubts.

"To lighten your burden in life, you must be as the dog. You must shed the load of resentment and anger through forgiving those who wronged you," Suka explained patiently. "What would happen if a dog did not forgive?" he continued.

"Uh, I suppose he'd get angrier."

Suka nodded, pausing to move his head so I was scratching under his chin. "Eventually, one would destroy the other, and neither would gain. The People would lose companions, and guardians, and those to share their burdens. Suka would lose companionship and a community to belong to."

"So, you're telling me that I have to forgive ... Fey and Ayla?"

Suka chuckled. "No. I tell you what Suka does. It is up to you to heed my lesson or not."

"It's ... it's hard!" I protested. "Fey really endangered me and Debra, and Ayla ... makes me panic because of what happened to me."

Suka looked up at me with his big brown doggie eyes. "You must decide for yourself what to do." Suka stood. "I must get back to my duties of watching the village. But remember, Wihakayda, your burdens are already heavy without adding to them." With that, he left, padding softly across the earth to begin his patrol around camp.

************

Doyle Medical Complex

I was bored out of my mind during fourth period, and remote French class was a royal pain in the rear, so by the time Dr. Tenent came around to check on me, I was more than ready to get out of Doyle. She checked, and my regeneration and her healing had obviated the need for the stitches, so she removed them. With the proviso that I do nothing physically demanding for the rest of the weekend, she discharged me and got me an escort back to Poe, where I worked on catching up on my classwork, especially those that I'd missed that day.

Electronics was fun; with the independent study format, my gadgeteer trait and math skills made it easy for me to catch up. Of course, Delwin had volunteered - several times each class - to help me with labs and to offer study time; I was polite, and did let him help with one lab, even though I didn't really need the assistance. It didn't hurt to be polite to him; I'd been an outsider once, and besides, having friends was nice. I was only hoping that I wasn't leading him on, because I really had no interest in being anything other than a friend.

I didn't know where Evvie was hanging out before dinner, so I sat on my bed, my back against a pillow, reading my magic arts textbook and thinking, although to be perfectly honest, I was doing more of the latter than the former. My first week of classes had been interesting, to say the least, although the next week should be considerably better, since I was out of algebra, power theory, and English, and I got my avatars class. It had taken a bit to overcome my stubborn-ness, but I had a much better attitude about martial arts, even though it was going to be a challenge, and I still considered Ito to be a rude, miniature tyrant.

And the lessons from Wakan Tanka and Tatanka? I'd met and seen quite a few animal spirits, and upon reflection, when I listened to them and modeled their traits, I had better days than when I ignored their wise lessons. I thought about the ones I'd I talked to so far - Maka, the skunk, Hehaka, the elk, Ptan the otter and Ithunkasan the weasel, Itukala the mouse, and Suka the dog. The lessons were pretty common-sense, but I'd been ignoring them somewhat. I knew that, over the weekend, I was going to have some long conversations with Debra, and maybe I should ask her about those lessons.

At the thought of Debra, I glanced up at my poster and smiled. Her bright, cheery smile made me feel like she was hugging me, and I practically purred contentedly. After a break, as I walked back in to the room, I frowned when I looked again. The poster seemed a little tilted, which surprised me; Mom would have been very particular about hanging the poster for me. I climbed up on my bed, and when I lifted a corner of the poster to adjust its position, I was surprised to see that the tape wasn't adhered very well.

I climbed down and got a roll of tape from my desk, and then, after taking down the poster and peeling the existing tape from it, I made new tape loops and fastened them to the back of the poster before climbing back onto my bed to rehang it.

A knock sounded at my door as I stood, trying to gauge how level and centered the picture were.

"Come in," I replied to the knock, still focused on the poster.

The door opened, and I heard the guest walk in and stop. "If you want it centered, it needs to move about an inch and a half to the left."

I tensed at the sound of Ayla's voice. I hadn't expected him to be hanging around the cottage. "Okay," I answered in as neutral a tone as I could, all the while thinking about what Suka had told me. I moved the poster a bit, as he'd indicated. "How's that?"

"That looks good," Ayla answered.

I pressed the corners of the poster firmly against the wall, and then climbed off my bed, looking critically at the poster, and studiously avoiding looking at Ayla until I'd sat in my chair. "Is there something you need?" I asked, again trying to be neutral.

"I've been trying to talk to you for a couple of days," Ayla said, sitting in Evvie's chair. "I get the very distinct impression that there's something wrong between us, especially after this morning."

I felt my shoulders tense. "Um," I stammered, stalling so I could figure out what to say. A month ago, I would never have felt as intimidated in a potentially confrontational discussion, but now I was trembling inside, possibly to the extent that it was visible externally. "I don't know," I lied, looking down at the floor.

"I owe you an apology for what happened in martial arts," Ayla said without prompting.

"Uh, it wasn't your fault," I replied quickly.

"Yes, it was. I was in charge of the group, and it was my responsibility to know any restrictions or limitations." His voice sounded more than a little heavy under the burden of responsibility. "It _was_ my fault. I'm sorry you were injured because of my negligence."

"It wasn't your fault. You can't know what Ito and Tolman don't tell you," I said, surprising myself because I was defending Ayla from responsibility for the morning's accident.

"Well, just so you know, Ito chewed me out royally for not noticing that you were injured before you even started, and for not noticing that your injuries were hampering you and stopping the match," Ayla said in a tone that told me that he _did_ still think it was his fault, and Ito agreed.

"Ito was responsible for class, not you," I reiterated.

"Ito was blaming himself for a student being injured in his class."

"Yeah, right!" I snorted.

"He takes instructing very serious," Ayla continued, "even if he is a pain in the ass. He doesn't like it when his students get hurt, especially when an injury was preventable. Like yours was."

"It wasn't Ito's fault, or your fault, for that matter, that a guard flipped out and tried to kill me," I retorted.

"That's what my sources told me. Are you okay?"

I nodded, still avoiding Ayla's gaze. "Yeah. They had to operate last night, because something was interfering with my healing and regen. After we got that cleaned up, Dr. Tenent made me suffer through a few hours of rest and regen, plus a healing spell." I shrugged. "I'm not supposed to do anything physical today, but I should be completely healed by tomorrow. I can always do a healing spell on myself if I need to."

"Good. If there's anything you need ...."

Still not looking at Ayla, I shook my head. "No. I'm okay."

"Is something else bothering you?" Ayla asked hesitantly. "Maybe ... the morning routine?"

I sighed. "I'm ... trying," I said, my voice quavering slightly. "I .... It's not fair to ask everyone else to change their routines because of ...."

"I can adjust my schedule," Ayla began.

I shook my head. "No. I've got to learn - eventually. So I'm not paralyzed by this ... by my PTSD." My eyes felt misty because I felt helpless against the PTSD, enslaved to the traumatic memories and afraid that I'd never be normal again.

"Are you sure? It seems like it's my fault."

"No," I answered, trying to assure Ayla. "I'm trying to get over it."

"Did I do something that made you want to sit with Tansy in magic yesterday? And made you and Nikki glaring at each other, and why you didn't wait to walk with us to lunch?"

"It's nothing you did. Not directly, anyway." I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a couple of slow, deep breaths to try to clear my thinking. "Besides, I shouldn't get pissed at you for sticking up for your teammate," I added. "You're supposed to do that, no matter what."

I could practically hear Ayla frowning. "What's going on between the two of you?"

I shook my head, still not feeling like looking at Ayla. "It's ... it doesn't matter."

"Does this have anything to do with yesterday morning?"

"Ya think?" I blurted, staring with a look of bewilderment that he'd even think of asking something so obvious. As soon as I realized what I'd done, I lowered my gaze once more, shaking my head slowly. "Among other things, that wasn't exactly nice of her."

"You should talk with her. She's kind of confused about what's going on. "

"She shouldn't be," I explained. "It was her fault, not mine. Both times!"

Ayla sat silently for a moment or two. "Why don't you talk to her?"

I sighed heavily. "Why? So she can blame me instead of apologizing? Or so she can tear up my privacy again?" I shook my head. "I ... I know I should," I admitted softly, "but to be honest, she, and the Sidhe queen intimidate me."

"You two need to work this out. And ...." Ayla's voice trailed off, and I could tell there was something he wasn't saying. "You need to talk to her so you can work this out. It's important to both of you, more-so than you know."

"Are you taking Dr. Bellows' job, too?" As soon as the words had left my mouth, I regretted them. "Sorry," I muttered. "That wasn't fair of me."

Ayla thought silently a bit. "Leaving Nikki out of it, are you and I back on speaking terms?"

"I don't see how we can leave Nikki out of it. I mean, you have to be loyal to your team-mates, right?"

Ayla chuckled. "There's a difference between being loyal, and blindly defending a team-mate who's doing something wrong or stupid. I've always found that those who put their blind faith in someone else inevitably find trouble. So, are we okay?"

I looked at Ayla for a few seconds. "Yeah, I suppose we are," I admitted. Surprisingly, those few words seemed to remove a burden of anger and resentment from me, just like Suka had told me. But Fey's case wasn't going to be so easy to forgive. Not when she was so damned intimidating that I didn't know how to talk to her.

"Good. Let's get to why I came to talk to you. Ms. Bell sent me, actually."

That surprised me. "Oh?"

Ayla chuckled. "She said that you were working as a TA in the math department, and that you'd be my tutor for a little experiment in accelerated math."

I frowned. "I hadn't agreed to be a TA yet," I replied, "let alone agreed to advanced math tutoring."

Ayla's eyebrows rose. "I was told that you _had_ agreed."

I sat back in my chair, staring impassively at Ayla as I crossed my arms. I winced when I had to adjust my arm position under my breasts to finish crossing them. As I did that, I stared at Ayla as if daring him to make any kind of smart-ass comment about my reaction. "What is it you're trying to accelerate?"

"Right now, I'm in pre-calc," Ayla replied. "I'd like to try to finish calculus 1 this term, so that in the fall term, I can take some business classes that have that as a pre-requisite."

"And I was volunteered to help you with this little ... experiment?"

"Actually," Ayla said with a wry grin, "when I learned of your math background, I pressed Ms. Bell to accept that solution."

I chuckled. "She _did_ say that there were some problematic students who they needed help with, but I didn't think she meant you."

Ayla glanced at his watch. "Do you want to see if Ms. Bell is still in her office?"

"Why do I get the feeling that you already know that she's in her office, and that she's expecting us?" I looked at Ayla, and although he'd carefully schooled his features to be as neutral and impassive as possible, it was still possible to read hints of his underlying thoughts. "You're excited about getting ahead in math, aren't you?" I asked in a tone that sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Ayla smiled sheepishly. "Maybe."

Ms. Bell _was_ expecting us. I frowned at that; she'd obviously predicted, accurately, that I'd go for a tutoring opportunity, although she didn't know about the tension between Ayla and me. Ayla _had_ known that there was tension, and while he hadn't known exactly what it was, he'd been confident enough to ask Ms. Bell to meet us late on Friday afternoon.

The upshot was that during sixth period on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when Ayla wasn't in physics lab and I wasn't in powers lab, we'd get together to review material. Those were also the designated times when he'd take tests in the math building, and I would review lessons, plans, and such with Ms. Bell. Ayla was thrilled much more than he was letting on that he'd get pre-calc and calculus 1 out of the way in the spring term, and while I was nervous about working with Ayla, I was a bit excited about getting a chance to tutor.

***************

Crystal Hall

I was about to get up to bus my tray when Vasiliy asked, "Are you going to the movie tonight?" It was a general question for the group.

I shrugged. "Probably not. I've still got a lot of catching up to do, and ...." I didn't want to admit that I was nervous about being in public, nor had I completely adjusted to being a girl. Classes were somehow different, but the thought of being out and about in a casual setting was quite intimidating. "How about you?"

Vasiliy shrugged. "Haven't decided yet."

"Which means that Chat Bleu hasn't turned you down yet," Naomi giggled.

Vasiliy blushed a bit, which meant that Naomi had nailed it. "Are you going?" he tried to change the subject.

Naomi didn't have to look at Evvie. "Nah. I'm just going to put in a DVD and make some popcorn. I feel a little blah tonight."

Laurie piped in, "We're going to Dunwich to a movie," she said, holding Adrian's hand. She eyed me for a moment. "You want to come, Kayda?"

I saw a flash of disappointment on Adrian's face; it was clear that the last thing he wanted was a third wheel to interfere with his date. But he was too polite to say anything to me about it. "Nah," I answered.

"Besides," Evvie chimed in, giving me a wink, "I don't think Kayda could get a pass from admin or security, given how much she's been in trouble this week."

"Oh, very funny!" I retorted before sticking my tongue out at her, which got a few giggles from around the table.

"What _are_ you going to do?" Evvie asked seriously.

My mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. I honestly didn't know what I was going to do, except be in my room, alone. "I ... I don't know," I mumbled, suddenly feeling the awkwardness of the moment as my eyes moistened without warning. I knew I wouldn't go to the movie here in Crystal Hall, because I didn't know that many people who would be going, and I wasn't going to the movie in Poe; it was an 'alternative love story' where, most likely, all of the girls who went would be there with partners. I'd be alone there, too, even surrounded by others.

I quickly chanted my ghost-walking spell and dashed away from the table, running outside, and then away from the crystal dome. The enormity of my situation had hit me like a hammer; despite having some friends, when it came down to activities on weekends, I still felt alone.

I eventually found a spot against a tree on a low hill, where I could overlook the central part of campus with all the office and classroom buildings; the lights in Crystal Hall shone brightly, giving the dome a sparkly look almost like a Christmas ornament, and here and there, lights shone in a few office windows of the buildings. With a slight turn, I could see Dickinson cottage, and beyond it, the top of Whitman. Overhead, the stars twinkled in the cloudless sky, and a sliver of the silvery moon shone down very dimly, casting almost no illumination on the peaceful scene below.

I slowly realized that my friends, startled by my emotional reaction, were probably going to start looking for me, especially since Evvie, as an empath, could sense my loneliness and sadness. I couldn't let them waste their evenings because _I_ felt morose. "Tatanka!" I beckoned my furry companion.

The white buffalo appeared immediately beside me. "Yes, Wihakayda?" he asked.

"I want you to go find Evvie, and tell her that I said they should go ahead with their plans, that I don't want them to change their activities because of me."

He stared at me for a few moments. "They are your friends. They are very likely worried about you."

I shook my head. "Tell them ... tell them that I wanted some quiet time to reflect, and that I'm ...." I looked down for a moment. "Tell them I'm talking with animal spirits."

"That would be lying," Tatanka chided me.

"I don't care! I don't want them changing their plans just because I'm alone," I said, wiping at the renewed tears. "They've got their friends, and their plans, and they should have fun."

"But Wihakayda ...," Tatanka began.

"Do it!" I ordered him. The white, furry guy stared at me for several seconds, and then shambled off to complete the errand I'd given him. I drew my knees up to my chest, crossed my arms on my knees, and let my head rest on my forearms as tears dripped from my eyes.

A little while later, I felt Tatanka in my head again.

"Did you find them?" I asked bluntly.

"Yes," Tatanka answered. "And I delivered your message."

"And?"

"They are not happy that you ran off. They are worried about you."

"But are they going through with their original plans?" I asked, sensing that the was hedging.

"There were others with them, planning a search to find you, to make sure you were safe."

I glared at the white bison. "Did you tell them that I _am_ safe, and that I want them to have their own fun?"

"Yes."

"Are they going to?"

Tatanka sighed. "Adrian and Laurie got on the shuttle bus to Dunwich," he reported. "Vasiliy was going to try to talk Chat Bleu into going to the movie in the dining hall with him."

"Evvie and Naomi?" I asked bluntly.

"There were others at the table with them, who'd come to look for you, apparently."

"Who?"

"Ayla Jade, Hank, and Rosalyn," Tatanka reported. "They were going to go with Evvie and Naomi to find you and ensure your safety."

"Did you tell them I said I was okay, and that I didn't want to interrupt their plans?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, and I could tell from his tone of voice that he was most unhappy that I'd made him convey that message.

"What did they say?" I asked when he wasn't forthcoming with their response.

Tatanka frowned. "Evvie and Naomi were insistent on looking for you."

"Were?"

"I told them that you were being stubborn, and they eventually agreed to go to the movie.

"Good."

Despite my familiarity with cold weather and the jacket I'd worn, as the temperature dropped, I started to feel a little chilly. I shivered a little bit, but convinced myself that I was warm enough to enjoy communing with nature under the stars - even though I knew in my heart that I was avoiding other people so I wouldn't be so pointedly reminded that I was, in effect, alone. Others had plans; I didn't. Others had friends and dates that they were doing thing with; I didn't.

After a bit, shivering from the cold, I recast my dream-walking spell.

The fire was warm, but the air around it was cool, with a slight breeze, enough that I felt rather chilly. "Wakan Tanka," I asked as I mixed up tea for her, a change of pace for both of us.

"What is it, Wihakayda?"

"Is there a spell to keep warm?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "There are many spells to protect us from the weather - from rain, or snow, or cold."

"Will you teach me one to keep me warm?"

Wakan Tanka sighed. "A buffalo robe does a better job, without using your essence."

"Two minor problems, here," I said to her. "First, I didn't know I was going to be outside, and second, I don't have a buffalo robe."

Wakan Tanka looked at me, dumbfounded, for a bit, and then she shook her head, gazing into her tea. "Okay, Wihakayda. If you wish to use your essence foolishly because you didn't plan well ...."

Once she finished teaching me the spell, she gazed at me. "Have your mother buy you a buffalo robe," she directed.

I sighed. "Okay, I'll try to convince her - if only to stop you nagging me."

The spell was pretty simple, and almost immediately after casting it, I felt like I was wrapped in a cloak of warmth which dissipated the chills which had made me shiver. I sat back against the tree, comfortable again, and gazed at the stars. I used to love star-gazing, because the heavens were so vast and pretty, but at that moment, the size of the universe made me feel tiny and insignificant. I had friends, true enough, but ... I was lonely. They all had plans, and I'd been overlooked while they were making those plans. It felt like third grade all over again.

As soon as I recognized my train of thought, I fought against it. I was _not_ going to sit under a tree and feel sorry for myself. Yes, I was hurting psychologically. Yes, I'd been through some serious stress and trauma. But I was alive where other mutants had been killed or maimed. My parents still loved me, where other kids had been totally rejected by their parents. I was surrounded with faculty and staff who wanted to protect me and teach me how to protect myself. And I had friends. Not best-friend type friends, but certainly nothing to sneeze at.

I should have just gotten up, marched back to Poe, grabbed a snack, and then plopped my butt down in a chair in the movie room. Or I should have walked to Crystal Hall for that movie. The only problem was that, in either case, I was afraid that I'd be alone. Others had dates, or were with groups of friends, but I'd be all by myself, even if I was surrounded by other students. I tried to make myself get up, to move, to do _something_ positive, but I lacked the conviction that either movie would be better than sitting under the stars.

Something moving near the administration building a couple hundred meters away caught my attention. A figure was walking toward the trees where I sat, slowly, deliberately, and gracefully. I could tell it was a girl just by the way she was walking, but she was too far away to tell who she was. Perhaps if I had Wabli's or Ceta's vision, I could have seen who it was, but alas, I didn't have their gift of sight. I did a quick double-check to verify that my ghost-walking spell was still active, and then watched her, growing concerned as it became apparent that she was walking in a straight line toward me.

When she was about sixty to seventy meters away, I frowned when I realized who was approaching me. She seemed to be walking in my general direction, even though she had the faint silver aura around her that let me know she wasn't seeing through my ghost-walking spell. As she continued toward me, I debated my course of action. I could get up and run, or walk quickly, in another direction, avoiding her. I could let Tatanka confront her. I could confront her myself. Or I could sit still and do nothing. The closer she got, the fewer good options I had, because she was coming my way. I stood and walked six or seven meters to one side, to another tree, and watched as she walked in a straight line. She wasn't walking like she was looking for me, but rather with her shoulders hunched a bit, looking toward the ground, and her gait wasn't confident, but seemed hesitant, almost like she was lost.

"Wakan Tanka," I whispered to my teacher, "What do I do? I don't want to talk to her."

"Why not, Wihakayda? Look at her - she's not looking for you. She looks like she's pre-occupied with something."

"She's following me!"

"I don't think so, little one. She has her own concerns. You _should_ talk to her. At the very least, you need to get past your distrust."

Leaning against a tree, I watched as Nikki stumbled forward, until she leaned against another tree and slid to the ground. In the dim moonlight, I couldn't see her expression, but from the way she held her head, she was looking for the same kind of solitude I'd sought. For several minutes, I watched her warily, becoming more and more confused with each passing second. This was not the self-assured, confident Nikki that I'd seen so often. She looked small, fragile, and hurt.

Wakan Tanka made my decision for me, by cutting off the magic sustaining my ghost-walking spell.

Nikki was startled when I suddenly appeared, possibly as much as I was that my spell fizzled out. From stories of Team Kimba's various adventures, I expected her to be on guard against danger and do something to protect herself, or to make a pre-emptive move against me, but she did nothing, seemingly resigned to whatever happened

"Hi," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think anyone was here."

"I ... was looking for a little quiet," I replied nervously, upset that Wakan Tanka had forced my hand. "I ... felt like some solitude tonight."

"Yeah," Nikki responded in a sad tone, "I know what you mean."

"I figured you'd be doing something with your friends or your team." I bit my tongue before I added, 'or someone else to harass me.'

"They ... don't understand," she said softly, melancholy lace through her words. "I know they're trying, but ...." Her voice trailed off, and her gaze was fixed far in the distance.

"I know the feeling," I said, recalling bitterly how many times someone had said, 'you poor dear' or other false platitudes when they heard of my assaults, at a loss for words or actions that indicated that they _truly_ understood.

"Do you want to sit down?" Nikki asked. I could see an occasional glint of moonlight off some moisture on her cheek; something was _really_ bothering her.

I shrugged. "I was just leaving."

Nikki frowned. "Kayda, why are you mad at me?" She seemed a little hurt that I was being distant.

"If you don't know," I replied almost automatically, "then you wouldn't understand."

Nikki sighed. "That sounds like the movie answer a woman gives when she's mad at a friend. Or a guy." Her expression was quite unhappy, despite her attempt at forced humor.

I tried to frown at her comment, but I realized that I _had_ made the same statement that Mom used to give to Dad when he'd done something wrong. It _was_ a stereotypical _female_ answer. I did manage to suppress a chuckle.

"Does this have anything to do with your spell the other morning?" she asked.

"Among other things, yeah," I replied unhappily. "What gave you the right to mess with my spell? Especially since you know about ...." I couldn't say the words. "You _know_ that it's ... very difficult for me, with Ayla and Vamp ...." I frowned at her. "Were you trying to humiliate me more? Or were _you_ trying to ogle me, too?" I saw the shocked expression on her face. "I heard about you and Bunny," I continued. "So I know you like girls."

Nikki's mouth hung agape. "Kayda," she finally stammered, "I'm ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break your spell." Sparkles of moonlight reflected off what appeared to be fresh tears.

"No? So why'd you do it then? Just for jollies?"

She looked down, embarrassed, shaking her head. "I ... I wanted to see if I could understand how your spell worked," she replied softly. "I've never seen spells like you use. I was using a spell that _usually_ lets me examine someone else's spell and see how it's made. I'm ... I'm sorry it shattered your magic."

"So it's okay for you to break my privacy? How would you feel if someone did it to you?"

"Not very good. I'm sorry," Nikki repeated, sounding genuine in her regret. "I didn't mean to break your spell." She took a step forward. "Can we ... be friends again?" she asked hesitantly. I heard pain in her voice that surprised me. Pain ... and fear of rejection? This wasn't the self-assured girl I'd met so often since moving into Poe. There was something really, really wrong.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and said nothing.

"Is ... is there something else I did that upset you?"

"I'm surprised Ayla hasn't already told all of your team everything." I muttered softly.

"That's not fair to Ayla," Nikki said, defending Ayla from the aspersions I'd cast. "He knows when to be discrete, and he doesn't deal in rumors and gossip." She studied me for a second or two. "Are you're still upset about the dream thing?"

"Duh! Ya think?"

"Why? I said I was sorry." She _definitely_ sounded hurt that I quite evidently hadn't accepted her apology.

"Your mumbled half-hearted apology sure didn't sound like it." I sighed and shook my head sadly, my eyes closed for a moment. "You really don't realize how much danger you put Debra and me in, do you?"

Nikki's eyes widened at my words. "I don't understand."

"No, you don't. But Aunghadhail does. Or at least, she should if she wasn't traipsing all over like she owned everything. Just like she used to when she knew Wakan Tanka."

Nikki looked confused. "She didn't tell me anything."

"Debra and I were attacked in the dream world," I explained. "Seriously attacked. Unhcegila's spawn took Debra hostage, and ... hurt her, to lure me to my death." I shook my head. "And an attack in the dream world affects us in the real world." I felt a combination of anger and fear in my voice as I tried to relate what had happened to Debra. "I was almost killed trying to rescue her. And then I had to ... use some powerful magic ... to heal her."

The poor girl looked apoplectic. "I ... I didn't know ...."

"I had to cast special spells to protect Debra, too," I continued unhappily, "and then Aunghadhail waltzed through my dream-world barriers like it was no big deal, shredding all the work I'd done to protect her! And then you had the audacity to accuse _me_ of doing something wrong!"

Nikki looked quite saddened, with tears glistening on her cheeks. "I ... I didn't know she did that." She wiped at her moist cheeks, shaking her head sadly. "You don't have to worry about her ever doing that again," she said. "Aunghadhail - is ... gone," she sniffled.

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" I stammered.

"Yesterday, when we were trying to help ... Cav and Sky, Hekate's spell ...." She convulsed, and I could see that she was fighting unsuccessfully to maintain some semblance of composure. "She was ... killed." Tiny rivulets of tears flowed down her cheeks. "She didn't mean to put you in danger."

 I felt myself changing, merging, until we were Ptesanwi.  We are truly sorry for your loss, Nikki," we said. "We didn't know." I felt Ptesanwi slipping back, and I could tell that she was afraid that her presence was a painful reminder to Nikki of Aunghadhail. "And I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it. I was ... very upset."

Nikki nodded knowingly, and I could tell she was trying not to show her grief. "You had a right to be. If someone put me and my friends in danger, I'd be upset, too." She stepped hesitantly toward me. "Are we ... okay?"

I thought momentarily about Suka's lesson. "Yeah," I answered, holding forth my hand. "We're okay." Another weight was lifted from me.

Instead of shaking my hand, Nikki took a quick step forward and wrapped me in an embrace. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I ... I got carried away being curious about your magic, and ... and I did something stupid. And I got angry and blamed you before I knew the whole story about the dream thing." I felt moisture on the cheek that was pressed against mine, telling me how much she really rued the incidents. And how much she was hurting.

I returned her embrace, feeling petty about the grudge. At the moment, she had to be hurting much more from losing Aunghadhail than I was about her accidental intrusion. Nothing like seeing someone else hurting to put your own woes into perspective. For quite a while, we just hugged silently, but unlike past events, this time I was the one offering support to someone crying on my shoulder instead of being on the receiving end of the sympathy and support.

"If you're curious about my magic," I said, finding my voice unexpectedly choked up and my eyes misting, "you _could_ just ask me. Not that you need to learn about my magic, because, you're so powerful with your own magic."

"Yours is very ... different," Nikki said, and from the feel of her cheek against mine, I could tell that she wasn't smiling, but probably had a very sad expression, and her lip was probably trembling. "And I'm not _that_ good. Not anymore. Not without Aunghadhail's help."

"Tell you what. I'll teach you about my magic, if you teach me some of yours."

"I guess. I ... I need the help learning, now," Nikki commented. I suspected, based on having been in a similar state, that losing Aunghadhail had put her in a state of depression. I couldn't imagine how I'd feel if I lost Tatanka or Wakan Tanka.

"Let's go back to Poe," I said, easing out of the hug and taking her arm. "Your friends are probably worried." I felt a twinge of loneliness again, recalling that my friends had things planned, and I didn't. Then again, Nikki's pain obviously dwarfed my own, and in comparison to her loss, a bit of loneliness seemed pretty shallow. "And I've still got a lot of catching up to do, so I can't spend all night gazing at the stars."

"I suppose," she said, sounding quite uncertain. I, on the other hand, was _very_ certain. She had good friends and team-mates. She needed them to help her through this.

***************

Poe Cottage; Ayla's Room

"Are you sure?" Ayla asked as I walked to the door of his room. Nikki, Hank, Toni, Jade, Billie, Bunny, and Vox were gathered, supposedly for a movie, although they'd delayed that for a few minutes while Ayla and Vox interrogated me about the shooting. I suppose the word 'interrogated' is a little too strong, but Ayla was very interested in details. One thing that I found odd was that Ayla seemed to already know what had happened, and was only listening to my story to corroborate other information sources. While I was explaining what I knew, the others gathered around Nikki, like a protective, supportive circle clinging tightly to one of their own in her moment of need.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I replied. "I'm ... not feeling good," I lied. I saw Nikki's eyebrows lift, and I was certain that she empathically knew I wasn't telling the truth, but the honest fact was that I felt like an intruder in their very close-knit little circle of friends. I didn't want to be included out of pity; that would have felt worse than being left out in the first place. Even more so, I knew instinctively that Nikki needed support from her friends, and I didn't presume to be in that tight-knit circle. They'd been through a lot together, and I could tell they helped each other in ways that I couldn't.

Without another word, I slipped out the door, pulling it shut behind me, and walked back to my room. After flopping down on my bed, I pulled out my phone and dialed Debra's number. I could always count on Debra to cheer me up. But when the phone rolled over to voicemail, I cringed, remembering that Debra had told me that the Sioux Falls League was attending a charity fundraiser, and it would be late before they were back, not counting the time difference as well.

I sighed and, for a moment, reconsidered the movie in Ayla's room, but that struck me as crawling back to a group, looking like a pitiful loser. Instead, I grabbed my magic book and propped myself up so I could read. Honestly, I tried to study, but with girls coming and going in the hallways, it was a bit noisy and difficult to stay focused. When magic couldn't hold my attention, I fell back to my go-to subject, the one thing that I _knew_ would keep me riveted - math. I still had to finish some abstract algebra, so I opened that book and settled down on my bed to read.

That held my attention for far too short a time; soon, my mind was wandering again, this time because of the noise of someone's stereo above me, which was accompanied by some kind of proto-human tribal dancing and jumping about while banging clubs loudly against anything near them. At least that's what it sounded like. With a heavy sigh, I let the book flop in my lap as I considered my options.

The door opening surprised me, and I didn't know who was more surprised to see the other - Evvie or I. "What's up?" I asked after the momentary surprise had worn off.

Evvie smiled as she stepped to the tiny refrigerator in our room. "The vending machine doesn't have cream soda," she replied, "so I have to keep my own stock." She glanced at my math book. "Don't tell me you're studying on a Friday night?" she said plaintively.

I shrugged. "I was _trying_," I replied casually. "But the Neanderthal mating ritual upstairs is making it hard to concentrate."

Evvie set down the cans she'd retrieved from the fridge and took my math book, tossing it unceremoniously on my desk. "C'mon," she said, grabbing my arm. "You're going to come up to watch the movie."

I winced at that. "I'll be out of place," I complained. "And besides, it's probably some chick flick, and I'm not really into those."

"Maybe not yet," Evvie chuckled, "but you'll get the hang of it soon enough." She pulled me to my feet. "And now is a perfect time to practice."

"But ... I'll ...." I was propelled out the door. "I don't want to be the only ... single ... one there," I whined.

"There are others who aren't attached," Evvie said, not taking no for an answer. "And it's not a movie where everyone's looking to hook up, either," she added, taking that excuse away from me before I'd even thought of it.

In the television lounge, there was a variety of chairs, mostly fat stuffed chairs, with a couple of sofas. I winced when I saw how many girls were snuggled with their girlfriends in the big chairs and on one of the two sofas, cuddling, hugging, and making out. I would have turned to leave except that a few of the chairs were occupied by single girls, so I knew that I wasn't the only unattached one there. There was two unoccupied spots on a sofa that didn't have quite as good a view of the television, so I sat down, reasoning that it didn't matter much, since I really wasn't into that genre of movie.

After I'd settled in, and relaxed a bit, someone slipped down onto the sofa beside me. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?"

I recognized Rosalyn's voice immediately, and felt a sense of dread. "Hi," I whispered to her so as not to disturb those who were actually paying attention to the movie and not the tonsils of a partner. I turned back to the movie so she wouldn't get any hint that I was interested.

Even after a few minutes of watching, hoping against hope to see some car chase or major fight, or even guns and rockets exploding, I came to the conclusion that chick flicks were an acquired taste, and I definitely hadn't acquired it yet. Still, since it was a French film about two women who, despite being married, discovered that they loved each other more, the girls were all very emotionally involved in the story, even with the subtitles doing a poor translation of the emotion conveyed by the actresses and by the actors who portrayed the confused by still caring husbands. The one plus is that I was starting to recognize a few words of the French dialog.

"You look pretty tense," Rosalyn said quietly in my ear.

I shrugged. "Long day and a half," I replied, equally quietly.

"I bet. Being shot would make anyone tense." Her hands slipped up on my shoulders, and I practically leaped out of the sofa. "Calm down. A little massage should help take the stress out of your knotted muscles." She began to knead my fatigued shoulders, and I found myself enjoying her ministrations. I hadn't realized until that moment just _how_ stressed I'd become from the previous day and a half.

"I'm still not interested," I whispered insistently to Rosalyn.

"It's only a shoulder massage," Rosalyn giggled softly. "Lighten up a bit, would you?"

"It'd be easier to do that if you weren't always hitting on me," I retorted, a little louder than I'd intended, because a few faces turned our way, causing my cheeks to burn.

"All of us were worried when we heard that you got shot," Rosalyn said softly, concern evident in her voice. "Almost any of the girls would give you a shoulder rub to help you relax after that."

I thought a moment, and started to protest, but it _did_ feel good, and Rosalyn was right; I was very tired and stressed from the ordeal. "Just a little bit, maybe," I said, lulled into a state of bliss.

***************

Kayda's Hometown, South Dakota

Arm around her shoulder, Scott Hollings walked his girlfriend Shelly out of the ice cream shop, laughing and joking as they walked through the brisk evening air. It wasn't too late yet, and when Shelly suggested that they _cuddle_ for a bit, Scott was only too eager to agree. After he closed the passenger door, he practically floated around to the driver's door. For a moment, he frowned; his car was still disabled, and he had the family car, so it wasn't quite as 'cool', but the upside was that the back seat was roomier than his sports car, which would make extra-curricular activity there less uncomfortable.

Without his favorite squealing of tires, which frustrated him, he drove the car down the highway toward the James River a few miles away, and to the spot affectionately known as Makeout Mountain, a small bluff which was situated to give scenic views and, more importantly, privacy.

A block away, a non-descript pickup, without license plates and with darkened windows, began to roll down the road in silent pursuit of Scott and Shelly. When Scott turned off the highway, the pickup continued, and then quickly stopped, doused the lights, and turned back to follow the unsuspecting high-school sweethearts.

Scott and Shelly were busily making out, oblivious to what was around them; after all, it was the country in a sparsely-populated area, and there really was no danger to distract them. So when the car doors yanked open and rough hands grabbed the two. Shelly's shirt was off, and her bra unfastened, so her breasts bounced freely as she was dragged, screaming, from the car. Scott's pants were unbuckled, and as he was pulled from the drivers' side, his pants and underwear hung down around his thighs, threatening to fall even further.

The figures holding them were shadowy and wraith-like, without discernible features. They were large, and quite strong, as Scott realized from struggling against their grasp. As he struggled, a few fist-blows hammered into him, and he felt and heard the crack of a rib yielding under the battering. He could see two figures holding Shelly, having gagged her, while at least two men were restraining and beating him. And still, there was no clue as to their identity; they were ghostly shadows in the night, dark masks inside dark hoods, cloaked by dark clothing.

"What do you want?" Scott gasped between blows. So far, he'd managed to not cry out, despite the pain being inflicted on his helpless body.

One of the men tilted his head back and howled, a blood-curdling war cry that cut through Scott and Shelly like knives, terrifying them with the feral intensity of the sound as it was joined by all the mysterious captors.

"We want justice," another of the men growled. "And you know what for..."

Scott's eyes widened, and he paled. "What ... what are you talking about?" he stammered as fear gripped his heart.

"We know what you did," the growling man repeated. "Confess and ... or else."

"Or else what?" Scott squeaked.

"You can face your justice," the voice said calmly, "or _ours_. Your girlfriend was there that night, wasn't she? How would she like to be subject to the same treatment? Or you?" The voice was more menacing because it was spoken in such a confident, low tone and volume.

One of the other men holding Scott pulled out a large Bowie knife. With one man holding Scott's hair, he could only see the man stepping forward, lowering the knife toward his groin. Scott whimpered, trembling in fear of what he was certain was about to happen. The man with the knife jerked his shoulder slightly, and Scott cried out, and then realized that he wasn't hurt; all that happened was that his groin was much colder because his clothing had been cut away. The respite, though, was short-lived.

"Please, no!" he practically sobbed as he felt the cold steel against his scrotum.

"Confess ... or else!" the growling man repeated. Without warning, he backhanded Scott across the jaw, his knuckles smashing Scott's jaw up as they knocked him out. His unconscious body was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, and after holding a bag of herbs across Shelly's face until she passed out, the men vanished ghost-like into the night.

***************

Poe Cottage, 3rd Floor Movie Room

Someone was kissing my neck, her face buried under my tresses, as I smelled the fragrant honeysuckle of her shampoo. Her hand danced across my bare breast, pausing to cup and lightly squeeze it before her thumb and forefinger teased my erect nipple. Her other arm, wrapped around my waist, held me fast, not that I wanted to escape from the pleasure she was giving me. I moaned at the electric sensations radiating outward from her tender ministrations on my breast.

"Shall I stop?" she asked as she began to kiss down my neck, to my shoulder, and then to my chest. Her hand expertly guided my nipple into her mouth, and she began to alternately tease it with her tongue, and suckle on it.

"I ... I can't," I protested, but the words were without conviction, and my mind was confused.

"No," she said, "but I can." She resumed kissing, and her hand slowly moved down, toward a fire that was building in me.

I felt her hand on me, and my knees wobbled at her expert touch, as the pleasure built more and more, feeling like a volcano about to explode. "Please," I whimpered, not knowing if I wanted her to stop, or if I wanted her to bring me to completion. Without thinking, I reached for her breasts, eager to give her the same pleasure she was giving to me, and I brushed her long, ravens-black hair aside so I could caress her supple breasts.

Slowly, I became aware of the sound of people shuffling around me. I was leaning against something soft and warm that smelled delightfully like honeysuckle, my hand resting against my support on on something pillowly.

Alarm bells sounded in my head. Honeysuckle - just like the dream I'd been relishing. I ... I was in the TV room, wasn't I? That was the last place I remembered - I thought. I bolted upright, opening my eyes suddenly, terrified of what I was going to see, while yanking my hand back from where it had been resting.

Around me, most of the paired girls were too busy or had left, and a number of the unattached girls were noisily rising and walking from the room. A few were staring at me, with knowing smiles, and a few titters coursed through the room. I turned, and saw Rosalyn, sitting beside me, on whose shoulder I'd apparently been resting. And my hand had been on her chest.

"Pleasant dream?" she asked me with a knowing, coy smile.

"Uh," I stammered, "I ... I ... uh ...." I figured that it was better to say nothing and leave an awkward silence - not that I knew what to say!

"Ooohhh," a couple of the girls cooed, one wigging her eyebrows suggestively. Their teasing calls ended abruptly when Rosalyn looked at them; I couldn't see, but I gathered, from the reactions, that she had given them some kind of look to get them to shut up.

"You've had a long, tiring day, and you're almost asleep," Rosalyn said with a smile. "It'd probably be best if I walked you to your room."

The catcalls started again, and once more, Rosalyn silenced them, but not before my cheeks turned six shades of red. She stood, and then offered her hand to help me up. Still groggy, I let her pull me to my feet, and then she slipped an arm around my waist to steady me.

We walked silently down the hall, and then down the stairs. I was afraid to ask the question that was on my mind, and she wasn't volunteering any information, but kept glancing at me with her enigmatic smile.

Finally, when we got in my room, I couldn't take it anymore. "What are you grinning about?" I practically demanded, turning to face her with my hands on my hips.

"Aw, you're so cute when you're angry," Rosalyn purred.

"Really," I said, getting impatient. "What ... what did you do?"

"Honestly?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

I cringed at the way she was acting. "Uh, yeah," I answered uncertainly.

"Nothing."

"What?" I was stunned. "But ...." I shut up; I didn't want her to know that I'd been dreaming, and quite probably of her.

"I just let you use my shoulder as a pillow," she told me. "You were exhausted."

"Oh."

"But that must have been some dream you were having," Rosalyn grinned. "Oh, in case you didn't know, you talk in your sleep."

My mouth dropped open in shock.

Rosalyn winked at me. "You were kind of ... softly moaning ... while you slept."

"Oh, God!" I said as my cheeks flushed.

"Yeah, I seem to remember that you said _that_ a lot, too!" Rosalyn giggled. "And your hand was kind of ... roaming." She leered at me. "Who was she, anyway? Anyone I know?"

I turned away quickly, feeling my cheeks burning with shame.

Rosalyn laughed. "I _knew_ you wanted me! Now that you can admit it, it'll be easier for you to accept an invitation to the hot-tub party, won't it?"

I turned, shaking my head, while blushing intensely. "You're ... bad."

Rosalyn smiled, then licked her lips and made a kissing motion. "Good night, Kayda," she said before turning and leaving my room, pulling the door shut behind herself, and leaving me standing dumbfounded and feeling more than a bit embarrassed. I had a feeling that it was going to be a long, long time before she let me forget this incident.

***************

END OF CHAPTER 4