Free Mirage by Jenn Reese Page A

herself, she has always chosen loneliness. She lets none of us near her, and yet she never strays far from the settlement.”
    “How old is she?” Aluna asked.
    “She is not yet three,” Dantai said, “but we do not know if her mind is aging as a horse or a Human. It is possible she is still a child, but we cannot know for sure.”
    “What does her name mean?” Calli asked.
    Dantai spoke easily, as if the answer were the most appropriate and natural thing in the world. “She was born without her Humanity,” he said. “
Tal
is our word for
half
.”
    Aluna’s hands tightened into fists. She didn’t even release her talons or reach for her knife. There wasn’t time. She needed to punch every last bit of condescension off Dantai’s face, and she needed to do it immediately. Words bubbled up in her throat.
Disgusting
.
Heartless. Cruel
. But she couldn’t find the control to speak them.
    Suddenly Calli stood between Aluna and Dantai, her wings half open and creating a barrier of feathers. The girl spoke quickly, but Aluna could barely hear her through the haze of her own anger.
    “I’m sorry, but I’m feeling very tired,” Calli said to Dantai. “Would you mind giving me and Aluna some time alone to prepare for the celebration?”
    “Certainly,” Dantai said, “but I must state that —”
    “Excellent,” Calli interrupted. She grabbed his arm and propelled him toward the tent’s exit. “We’ll see you later. Please give our regards to your sister and father.”
    When his tail had disappeared out the tent flap, Calli turned but continued to block the door.
    “He doesn’t understand,” Calli said quietly. “He doesn’t know how it sounds.”
    “Oh, I think he knows exactly how it sounds,” Aluna said. “I think they all do.”

B Y THE TIME the sun had fallen into the mountains, half a dozen bonfires blazed, casting the whole settlement in a warm, flickering glow. Equians of all ages thronged to the flames. They passed food in baskets and on sticks, filled one another’s cups with fruit-infused water, and wished each other “safety until the sun.” Aluna watched a group of yearlings chase one another through the crowds, tossing a ball and laughing when they came close to hitting someone.
    “Hoku, where are you?” she whispered. He and Calli had gone on ahead, hoping to find someplace for them to sit that was close to the festivities but safe from errant horse hooves.
    She tugged at her new clothes. At least she hadn’t spotted any new tough patches of skin on her legs. No new scales, either, although she was certain that the area by her knee was ready to bloom with them. She’d have to be careful in the tent with Calli so close. Her nightly examinations would have to wait until the bird-girl fell asleep. Thank the ancients for giving Kampii dark vision and keeping it from the Aviars.
    “Finally done changing? Are you sure you don’t need another hour?” Hoku whispered back, but then he let it go. “Head to the west side of the bonfire. Tayan saved us a spot.”
    “That’s Tayan khan-daughter to you,” Aluna said, and was gratified by his chuckle.
    “We’ve got a surprise for you,” Hoku whispered. “I think you’ll like it.”
    “As long as it’s not the company of Dantai khan-son, I’ll be thrilled,” she said.
    He laughed again. She hadn’t heard him so happy in a long, long time. What kind of day had he had?
    It wasn’t hard to find the khan’s fire, not with the golden flames leaping half a dozen meters into the darkening sky. The official ceremony hadn’t started yet, but the Equians had certainly gotten a head start on their celebrating.
    She followed Hoku’s directions, darting between dozens of huge Equians and heading toward the clearing around the fire. She didn’t even bother to look for Tal, now that she understood more of her upbringing. An Equian celebration was the last place an outcast would choose to be.
    She spotted Hoku and Calli sitting together on