Wrinkled hands patted the graying whiskers and smoothed wrinkles from the merchant’s vest beneath. A “Quark” from the top shelf preceded by the shop bell in giving warning as the ruddy snout of a wolf entered.

“It has been an age.”  

Tawny eyes took in the wizard-turned-shopkeeper and his crow companion, then a toss of the head threw the door open. The wolf padded in, circled the counter and came to rest on its haunches.

“Come on with it. We cannot speak in this form.”

The wolf yawned, rolled its neck, and shimmered. Its transformation took no more than the pause between one heartbeat and the next before a young woman stood in a smartly cut rust-colored frock coat and trousers. Her auburn hair curled around her cheeks, cut short in the latest men’s fashion.

“I see your tastes have changed with the times. Word has it you dropped out of polite society, took up with a band of artists, and met a most ghastly end.”

The woman’s wary gaze followed the pedestrians outside as she spoke. “People assumed I died four years ago. I thought it best not to disappoint them.”

“And now?”

“An old gossip found me--”

“Quark”

“A most reliable gossip,” she smiled at the gratified flutter of wings, “told me another child wishes to escape from…polite society.”

“To run with wolves?”

“Or to fly with crows.” She shrugged. ”Her choices are endless.”

“And who better to show her?” He straightened her cravat.

“My thoughts exactly.”