Turning its head, it looked right at me.
In the distance, I heard a new commotion. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it came from the same direction as this steed.
In an instant the dark horse was before me, flashing through the trees with barely a twitch of its legs. I stumbled back and would have fallen, if not for the trunk pressing into my shoulders. The stallion was nearly twice my height, and though it was magnificent, it frightened me.
“You are a star mother.” Its voice was like the wind, its tone incredulous. Male.
I swallowed. “I-I am.”
The commotion grew louder. The stallion looked over its shoulder, ethereal muscles twitching.
His attention flew back to me. “Hide me. Please.”
I gaped. When I didn’t respond, the godling moved as though to nudge me, but his muzzle passed through my arms just as his body passed through the trees. The motion put me at ease—if the creature could not touch me, surely it could not harm me.
But that caveat likely did not pertain to his pursuers.
“Hide you?” I asked. “From what?”
I recognized the commotion as running, though I could not identify the animal. A small flock of ravens burst from the forest a short way to the west.
“They won’t hurt you. Please help me,” he begged, crouching and dropping his head. “They are looking for me. Your starlight will mask me.”
His pursuers rocked the forest like thunder. The horse godling whinnied.
I spoke through my fear. “I need a guide to Nediah,” I hurried, hushed. “If you will take me to Nediah, I will hide you from your pursuers.”
I didn’t know how I would do it, but from his confidence, I assumed he did.
The godling lifted his head. “Done.”
The body of the dark horse dissipated into a midnight breeze, swirling around me and billowing my skirts before spiraling into a tight ball that disappeared into the pocket of my dress.
There was no time to fret. The commotion tumbled toward me, and three godlings—two large and one small—burst into view from the trees. The small one looked like a gremlin wearing a clay mask, and the two large ones appeared to be twins. Their big bodies, covered in thick fur, resembled bears with equine legs, but they had upright torsos and humanoid faces. Mostly. It was as if someone had grabbed the bottom halves and pulled them forward to mimic a muzzle. They each had a pair of long white horns growing out of their skulls, pointing backward. The only difference between them was that one’s horns had blue stripes and the other had silver.
I clung to the horse’s promise that they wouldn’t harm me. They actually looked remotely familiar, and I wondered if I had glimpsed them at Sun’s palace during my bored wanderings.
“Ho!” the blue-striped godling called, lifting a hand as they neared me. Even after they stopped, their speed sent a gust of wind over me, whipping my hair and skirt. I lifted an arm to block debris from my eyes. The gremlin godling did not halt with the others, but bolted in a wide circle around me like a dog before heeling at Silver Stripes’s side.
“What are you?” asked Blue Stripes.
“I am Ceris Wenden.” I thanked my time at Sun’s palace, for otherwise I would have cowered before these creatures.
Silver Stripes said, “I know you. You are the living star mother.” He studied me from head to toe.
“I am. Returned to the mortal realm by the Sun Himself.” I could not feel weight in my pocket, but I was acutely aware of a presence there, and it took all my self-control not to see if my skirt leaked midnight.
Blue Stripes replied, “We are looking for a runaway. A shapeshifter. He came this way.”
“It is only I, and I travel alone. You are close to the road. Be careful; there’s a mortal village nearby. You’ll scare them.”
Blue Stripes snickered as though that would be a delight, and the gremlin godling echoed him.
Silver Stripes tipped his head and whispered under his breath, “He’s used it again.”
I followed his line of sight, noticing nothing out of the ordinary . . . except for a single orange leaf falling from an overhead branch. It stood out among the growing green buds, a taste of autumn in the beginning of spring. A leaf that had somehow held on through the winter, only to give up beneath the glare of a godling.
Blue Stripes gritted his teeth and scanned the forest. To me, he said, “Call the names of Yar”—he pointed to himself—“and Shu”—his finger swung toward his companion—“if you see him. He is a ghost and a trickster.”