The flame went out immediately, leaving her in the dark. She felt for the wall and edged along it toward the door, hoping to escape into the bathing chamber before whatever it was realized she was moving—and wondering what awful thing had happened that this thing had gotten past Tarma and her Grandmother.

:Children,: snorted a voice from—somewhere. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. She froze.

:Child, I am not the Snow Demon. I don’t eat babies. I just came here tonight to talk to you.: She didn’t move, and the voice took on a tone of exasperation. : Will you please light that candle again and go sit down?:

“W-who are you?” she stammered. “Where are you?”

:Right here.: Something cold and wet prodded her between her breasts, and she nearly screamed again. :It’s Warrl, you little ninny! You see me every day!:

“Warrl?” She reached out—cautiously—and encountered a furry head at about chest level. It certainly felt like Warrl.

:And while you’re at it, you can scratch my ears.:

It certainly sounded the way she’d imagined Warrl would talk. If Warrl could talk.

“How are you—” she began. He interrupted her.

:I’m Mindspeaking you,: he said, impatiently. :It’s exactly what you could do if you wanted to, and the other person had the Gift of Mindhearing.: She felt a brief movement of air and heard the faintest little ticking sound, a sound that might have been the clicking of claws on the floor. :Do light that candle and come to bed, there’s a good child.:

She went to her knees and groped about on the floor until her left hand encountered the candle. Once lit, she stood up with it in her hand, and discovered that Warrl had resumed the position he’d been in when she first entered the room. Sprawled on her bed, taking up fully half of it.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said sarcastically, more than a little nettled now that her heart had started beating again.

:Thank you, I have,: he replied with equal irony.

She crossed the floor and put the candle into the sconce in the headboard, refusing to look at him the entire time. Only when she had climbed up into bed, and settled herself cross-legged on the blanket, did she finally meet his eyes.

“So if you could talk all this time, why haven’t you?” she demanded.

:There wasn’t any reason for you to know I could,: he replied calmly. :Now there is.:

“And what, pray tell me, is that reason?”

:I want to know why you have been concealing your Gift.:

Her heart stopped again. She couldn’t pretend not to understand him; she had the feeling that if she tried to lie mind-to-mind she’d get caught. And she knew very well what he was asking, her mother’s books had called this ability to hear thoughts a “Gift.”