“Wait!” Mary caught at them. “Her jewelry. Put it in your bag.”

Conner took her ring while Mary unfastened her necklace and earrings. When they were safely in the pack, Isabeau breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for everything, Mary,” Conner said.

“It was a pleasure,” Mary replied. “Have courage, Isabeau,” she added.

Conner was barefoot, and shirtless, wearing only light jeans and a pack slung around his neck. They hurried out the back door and began sprinting for the forest. Isabeau caught the low murmurs behind them, yet nothing mattered but her strange vision and the acute hearing, the myriad of unfamiliar sensations coursing through her body.

She felt as if she had a fever that kept rising until she was going to burn from the inside out. Everything felt too tight, especially her skull. The trees swallowed them and they kept running deeper into the darkness, but she wasn’t blind. There was no fear of that dark interior; instead, her body embraced the brush of leaves, the rustles of the insects, the constant, never-ending hum of the cicadas and the flitting of birds and monkeys from tree to tree overhead.

Her legs went rubbery and she found herself on the forest floor, her muscles contorting. Her hands curved and knotted, knuckles extending. Muscles contorted and once again a wave of fur raced over her body and disappeared. Bones and joints popped. She cried out, the sound foreign, her vocal cords nearly crushed under the changes in her throat.

Conner was beside her in an instant, framing her face with his hands. “Let it happen, Isabeau, don’t fight her. There’s nothing to fear.”

Tears burned in her eyes. She wanted this—she did, but the sensations were so frightening. The fear of the unknown. The twisting and gut-wrenching turning of her body inside out. Her spine bent, that long, flexible instrument that allowed her to twist and leap, to turn in midair. She breathed deeply, trying to call to her cat. Yes, she wanted this. This was part of her life with Conner, and she wanted her life with him, no matter what was thrown at them. She could do this, lie on the forest floor, her body contorting, the roaring loud in her head and the fear shimmering in her belly—for Conner. She could do anything for him.

Conner crouched beside her, shaking his head as she reached for him. “This is for you. This is who you are.”