She circled around a section of an old stone fence that had mostly fallen over or been robbed away. She gave a preparatory wriggle, curled into an s shape, and spat. A lance of flame shot from her mouth. Blue white at the center, fading to pale green at the edges, it lit up the lowering sky. The strange flames crackled in the air, and galvanic tingles stood all of Bitterlich’s fur on end. The fire splashed on the surface of the stone, which caught fire and glowed from within like aquamarine charcoal. After a moment or two, the flame erupted from the far side of the wall. The fire guttered and died, but it had left the stone translucent.

Rebecca did a loop in the air almost tight enough to bite her own tail, and dove through the ghostly stone in a long liquid swoop, transforming back into her erstepelz on the far side. “Ghostfire!” She stuck her arm through the phantasmal stone.

“That’s … astounding,” Bitterlich said. He held his hand near the soft spot but the stone was not hot. “How did you figure that out?”

“I asked her.” She pointed to her chest. “Or more like I listened to her. She dreamed about hunting, and it was like was swimming through stone, and she’d find a crackback hiding in a stoneberg and then smack!” She brought her hands together like jaws snapping.

“Well done,” Bitterlich said. “Our soul companions have a lot to teach us. A note of caution, though. Your wyrm may have urges—”

“Thrasher,” Rebecca said. “That’s her name.”

“Right,” Bitterlich said, and why not. Littlepaws had a name, after all. “As I was saying, Thrasher may have urges, but she doesn’t get to be in control, not even a little.”

“Why?”

“Because while Thrasher will happily take control, she may not happily give it back. The longer you have her, the tamer she will become, until you hardly have to think about it. Until then it’s a bad idea to sleep or especially to eat in your animal form. Thrasher must be trained to understand that it is through your mouth that hunger is satisfied and your sleep through which weariness is dispelled.”

“So what happens if she gets loose?”

“You could end up a prisoner in her mind, without any say in your own life.”

Rebecca’s face scrunched. “You mean I could end up like the capitaine.”

“Something like that,” Bitterlich said, pleased at her understanding but stung by the thought of Isabelle.

“She said she was going to die,” Rebecca said.

“She might,” Bitterlich said. Marie said she’d woken up briefly, but that was a full day ago. She was still there inside her head, still fighting. She’d gathered the resources she needed and marched into the everdream, to grapple with her Torments. Bitterlich wished he could join her in battle and fight by her side.