Lucy returned her attention to the Siren Stone. “Ooh, this circle with a dot in the middle means ‘lake’.”
Thingus looked up from the pile of chocolate he was munching on, his feathered tail twitching. Lucy blinked. Was she imagining things, or was the creature listening to her? He fluffed out his feathers and went back to his favourite pastime: eating.
“Hey, you,” said Lucy. Thingus continued gorging himself with gusto. “Refrigerator,” she said. “Crudberries.” The bird ignored her. “Thingus.” The creature stopped and looked up. “I think he knows his name,” she gawped.
“I told you he was smart,” Milo grinned. “Aren’t you, you little genius?” He tickled Thingus’s tummy and the albatross leaned in with pleasure. A sound escaped his beak that was halfway between a bird’s titter and a child’s laugh.
“That laugh is creepy, though,” said Lucy.
Milo tsked. “I can’t believe you of all people would call an amazing supernatural being ‘creepy’. He’s not creepy; he’s cute.”
“What I can’t believe is that he decided to turn into a bird when he could easily be a Pegasus or a centaur.”
“Well, I’m hoping he’ll stick with being a cute animal when I show him to my dad,” said Milo. “That way, he’ll know Thingus isn’t dangerous.”
“What?” Lucy dropped her notebook. “You’re going to show Thingus to your father? Are you insane?”
Milo frowned. “He’ll find out eventually. Believe me.”
Lucy did believe him. To her everlasting annoyance, Mr Fisher had been the first to discover the mysterious shapeshifters of Sticky Pines. But the only thing he could think to do with this mind-blowing information was to root out, dissect and destroy them. He’s not wrong about what they are; he’s just a dillweed. If Fisher found out about Thingus, there was no telling what he’d do. There was still time to persuade Milo not to tell his father about their discovery, but she’d have to tread carefully.
“Okay –” Lucy picked up where she had left off in her translation – “these next symbols mean something like ‘with two-footed locomotion, balance with the head’.” She scratched her nose under her glasses. “Are these tips on how to walk like a person?”
“Or a bird?” said Milo.
“Good point,” said Lucy, writing that down. “I wonder if this rock is a giant instruction manual…”
“An instruction manual for whom?”
“For Thingus,” And the other Pretenders like him. “Do you think he can read?”
“Now that would be something.”
Milo shook the bag of candies like a maraca, then patted his shoulder. The creature barrelled towards him and tried to scramble up Milo’s legs, his wings flailing.
“No,” Milo laughed. “You need to fly up. That’s what your wings are for.” The awkward albatross pecked at Milo’s shoelace like it was a worm.
“Finished!” Lucy set down the compendium with a flourish.
“Well?” Milo cradled Thingus to his chest.
“Ahem. The Siren Stone says: ‘Welcome, Hidden Wanderer, to the Water of Life. This is your place of existence for many suns. In the lake and on the island, you will learn. You will extend. You will transmute. You will become. Crawl. Swim. Fly. Stand. Dance. Be. But a warning: do not leave the lake, do not leave the island, until you master your forms. The key to Becoming is Understanding. Hide from that which you cannot Become. Become only what you can befriend. To Dominate is to Overtake. Remember: you are never alone. Never far from home. Always Protected. If Those Who Dominate overwhelm, sound the Siren. Welcome, Hidden Wanderer, to your new home.’”
“Wow.” Milo read it all again over Lucy’s shoulder. “What does it mean?”
It means that this is where all the Pretenders came from. Right here, in the middle of Black Hole Lake. Lucy tried to envision Mrs Stricks squeezing out of the hot spring like blubbery black toothpaste from a tube. She shuddered.
“It means that this area is like a training ground where they can learn how to take new forms,” she said.
“They?”
“I mean, Thingus,” Lucy corrected herself. “The royal ‘they’.”
“So Thingus can read?”
“Presumably.”
Thingus squawked.
“All right, buddy,” said Milo, “if you’re smart enough to read, you can definitely learn to fly.” He held out his arms and flapped to demonstrate.
Thingus hopped and copied Milo’s action. He fluttered his wings and ran across the clearing, remaining disappointingly earthbound.
Milo picked up the floundering bird, wings flapping against his face, and set him on top of the boulder. The boy took a few steps back and held out his hands. “Jump,” he commanded.
Thingus shuffled uncertainly to the boulder’s edge. He prepared to jump, then changed his mind and retreated to the centre of the boulder, burying his head under his wing.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy spotted a dark speck hovering high above the treetops. When she turned to look, it darted off, disappearing from view in an instant. Is that what I think it is? “Um, Milo?”
“Yeah?” Resignedly, Milo set Thingus safely on the ground.
“I think I just saw a Nu Co. surveillance drone.”
Milo paled. “Where?”
Crashing through spiny briars and low pine branches, they rushed out to the shore and scoured the sky for any sign of a drone, but they saw nothing but a pair of Canada geese flying across the clouds.
“Say it was a drone,” said Lucy. “What would it have seen? Just us playing with a bird, right?”
“Right,” said Milo. “I’m sure it was nothing, anyway.” He looked far from certain.
Lucy checked her watch. “It’s time to go home, anyway.”
They bid farewell to Thingus, stuffed their things into the kayak, and took off across the lake, gliding under the sunset in thoughtful silence. Back ashore, they hopped on their bikes.
“I’ll see you at school,” Milo called over his shoulder.
“We saved your spot at the lunch table,” Lucy yelled back.
It had been the best day Lucy had ever spent. So why did she have a nagging sense of impending doom?
Lars Supper
Milo was buzzing as he wound his way through the crowded school cafeteria. Life was finally returning to normal. All it had taken was
