level magic-user. So he had human feet, the better to land with, except on little branches, of course.
He had to look on the bright side of things. It might have been worse. He might have gotten the feet part right and wound up with hands instead of wings. That would definitely have made flying difficult.
Well, there was no sense in standing around moping. Best to get on with it. Thinking calmly, he assumed that the strange combination would disappear with the dissolution of the spell. It was time to get on with the plan.
Mika flapped his wings once or twice, trying to get the feel of being an owl. But there were too many bushes and limbs in the way and he was unable to extend his wings to their full length. Ducking his head down, he pushed his way through the underbrush, a subdued Tam following along behind.
Actually, his feet worked pretty well. Probably better than those little stumpy feet that owls have. They probably should have been designed this way in the first place. Hmmm, maybe if the Great She Wolf were watching, she'd rethink the whole owl design.
Pondering the matter of owls, religion, and anatomy, Mika the owl stalked into a clearing, startling a mouse. It stared at him with immense eyes, then disappeared with a terrified squeak.
Mika stifled an immediate craving for mouse and looked up at the dark sky. No moon, just as the guard had said. Good. He patted Tam on the head awkwardly with one large white wing and then, concentrating hard, began to flap his wings.
It was easier than he thought it would be. The powerful wings forced the air beneath them, pushing it down against the ground, creating a resistance, and at the same time, his body just seemed to flow upward with the silly human feet trailing beneath him.
It was beautiful. It was glorious. It was magic. Mika flapped harder and harder, his large white body rising higher and higher in the dark night sky.
Mika could see the forest below him and the single bright eye that was the campfire. The wind sang in his feathers and rushed past his body, softly stroking it like a lover's caress.
He opened his great curved beak to taste the air. He reveled in the passage of air as it slipped through the tips of his wings, felt the sliding pressure against his body as he found a low riding thermal and rode it like a curling wave. And his feet… his feet were cold. Definitely cold. Like little nubs of ice.
Time to descend. It wouldn't do to be up here if the spell ended suddenly. Shivering at the thought, Mika turned his body into a soft curve and floated silently down, back toward the forest.
He judged his distance correctly but not his speed. Opening his wings to brake, he almost overshot the wagon and only stopped himself at the last minute by running along the top of the cowhide roof and stabilizing himself with his big human feet. See, they weren't such a mistake after all!
Mika looked around him cautiously, swiveling his head in all directions. He saw no one awake except Tam, who sat watching at the edge of the forest.
Mika lowered his great feathered head and studied the cowhide surface. Just plain cowhide, laced together here and there with thin leather strips; no problem at all for his sharp beak.
Feeling confident, Mika clacked his beak experimentally and then rapidly snipped a half a dozen turns of the leather, opening a hole the size of his hand… when he used to have one.
Excitement beat in his breast as he placed his eye to the hole and looked down into the dark interior of the wagon and saw… nothing. It was too dark.
Muttering owlish imprecations, he quickly snipped several dozen of the leather strips. No turning back now, it would be obvious that someone or something had entered the wagon, so he might as well do it right.
The hole gaped darkly, inviting Mika to solve the mystery of the wagon. Visions of gold and jewels and pearls filled his head as he leaned forward and looked inside. But still he saw nothing; it was as dark as a robber's heart, or, um, dark as a cave in there.
Mika leaned farther, trying to grip the edge of the cowhide with his toes, but there was really nothing to grip. Now, here was a case where talons would have served him better.
Mika stuck his head completely through the opening and hung upside down, determined to see, once and for all.
Suddenly, he felt himself losing balance. His human feet scrabbled helplessly on the smooth cowhide but found no grip, and he felt himself falling through the hole, falling straight down with no chance or room to flap his wings, and no hands to break his fall.
Awwkk! He landed with a thump on the top of his head. On something soft. Very soft.
He righted himself carefully, sliding first one foot then another along the curious softness. The softness which was also warm. And curved. Nicely curved. Hmm, it all seemed very familiar. Celia?
His toes found what felt like the edge of a bed and, flapping himself upright, he stabilized, then peered about, trying desperately to see what it was he had found.
But it was dark, too dark to see anything at all. There were sounds. The sound of soft breathing, little murmurs such as a woman makes while sleeping. And scents. A wonderful scent like cinnamon and cloves, maybe just a hint of celandon. Oh, if he could only see something!
All of a sudden, there was a harsh scratching noise. Then, as though in answer to his wish, a dim light flooded the interior of the wagon.
In the few seconds that it took his dazzled eyes to adjust to the light. Mika was stunned, unsure of what he was seeing, doubting his eyes, thinking it an illusion.
But as his vision cleared, he saw that he had not been mistaken. He was standing on the edge of a bed, just as he had suspected. A bed of silk and the softest down.
Mika shivered. Sprawled delicately on the pink silk comforter was the most beautiful young woman in the entire world.
The Princess!
Her hair was a mass of curly black ringlets that covered the pillow cradling her head and shone with small blue highlights.
Her skin was alabaster white, lustrous as pearls, and faintly tinged with the most delicate blush of pink. Her lips, slightly parted, were tiny soft petals.
She was clad in the softest, most fragile gown of pink silk that clung to her voluptuous body like down on a ripe peach.
Her tiny hands were open, slightly curled, and Mika could all but imagine how they would feel on his…
At which point, out of nowhere, a sword appeared in front of his face, or more specifically, in front of his beak.
Belatedly, his brain began to function, assimilating facts, yelling messages: Light! Sword! DANGER! even as he flung himself sideways and rolled back on top of the sleeping beauty, reasoning, he hoped correctly, that whomever wielded the sword would not take the chance of endangering the girl.
Begging the indulgence of the strangely silent beauty, Mika pressed his fluffy form against the softness of her body, his head cradled between the twin mounds of her ample breasts. Any sword thrust capable of killing him would risk harming the girl. He prayed that the strategy would work until he could think of something else.
For a moment it seemed that his gamble had worked. A figure appeared in the center of the now almost blinding light, and slowly took shape.
Mika saw with a sinking heart the largest human being he had ever seen in his entire life. The man was a giant. A veritable giant. The small curving interior of the wagon bent him almost double. Standing erect, Mika had no doubt that the monster would top eight feet.
In addition, he weighed more than any two nomads put together, perhaps four hundred stones!
Mika was able to make his estimate without the confusion of clothes, for the giant wore only a square loincloth which was large enough to smother a two-year-old child.
His arms, chest, and thighs, devoid of clothing and hair, were immense and rigid with corded muscle. Mika doubted that the giant could lower his arms to his sides or knock his knees, so greatly distorted were the muscles that warped those extremities.
Mika formed all of his impressions in the blink of an eye, then became too frightened to blink his eyes and stared in fixed terror at the angry face so close before him.
The giant's head was bald and gleaming, his ears bracketing the white boulder of a head like two distended fungi.
His eyes gleamed in his doughy face like shiny chunks of anthracite and were made more harsh by the total
