Then Simber noticed Aaron alive, safe, and moving to the fountain for freshwater. He wasn’t wearing the robe, which was a surprise. “Then who…?” Simber’s gaze swept the area, anxiety growing as he saw Ol’ Tater stomping and splashing at the edge of the sea. The mastodon statue always came alive when the world was brought back. But who had restored it, if not Aaron? Claire, perhaps? That would be okay with him, though he knew she didn’t want to be the head mage.

But what if something else had gone wrong, and the head mage was someone horrible? He had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been minutes or days. When his eyes alighted on a young woman coming toward him wearing the head mage’s robe, Simber blinked. And then his face broke into a rare, wide grin. “Well,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, well, well.” He almost wasn’t sure how to feel about it at first, for he didn’t know how the decision of who would bring back the world had come to happen. Were there arguments over it? It didn’t matter much, at least at the moment, for an overwhelming joy took root in Simber’s soul and grew. He’d seen something in Fifer. They’d already experienced times of true companionship. She’d helped convince him to free himself from his attachment to Frieda Stubbs. And she’d led the team to victory. Now Fifer was his new head mage companion. After a tumultuous year, things were finally looking up for Simber.

He loped toward Fifer as she was nearing him. He could see the flush of success on her face and the light in her eyes. It seemed right and good.

“Simber,” said Fifer. Merely mentioning his name almost choked her with emotion. This moment… this… this thing… It meant something so great and deep and surprising, so far beyond her own comprehension. She thought about all the passages she’d read in which Mr. Today and Simber were together. And so many more about Alex and Simber. And now it was her turn. “I— Hello, Simber. Hi. So… this happened. Just a short time ago. Today.” She searched his face. “You helped. We did it together. Do you remember?”

Simber couldn’t hide his pleased look, and he didn’t really want to. But he said in his usual gruff voice, “You could have waited to end herrr until I’d landed on the grrround, you know. I think I’ve chipped a tooth.”

Fifer smiled. “Just trying to keep you on your toes,” she said. The two gazed self-consciously at one another, a bit overcome in the moment. And then Fifer slipped her arms around the cheetah’s neck and stroked the scrapes on his chin. “I’m glad you’re not too banged up. I’ll get it right next time.” They both paused, thinking and wondering about what next time would look like, and Fifer realized that if next time came and Simber was transformed into a frozen statue, that would mean Fifer had been the one killed. “Uh,” Fifer said, editing her previous statement, “next time we fight an enemy together, I mean.”