She'd told Jamie she would hop on the bus, go back to her house (home still felt like a dirty word in her mouth and mind, something mealy and weak - like an apple only hours away from rot); she had lied. Instead, Preacher walked aimlessly, her booted feet wandering off of the cracked sidewalk and kicking aside small rocks. After colliding with her feet, they skittered off into the grass like startled animals, almost sentient in the way they careened in different angles. She shivered, folding her freckled arms around herself despite the warm weather. Summer persistently loomed overhead, oppressive and bright. Normally, it seemed cheerful and lively and everything she needed to take her mind off of everything. It was a season of 'no school', of 'getting into things', of- Preacher realized abruptly that she was an adult now and summer had changed in ways she still needed to parse; yet she enjoyed it, even knowing that work continued, that the reports from officers would always flow in, regardless of what color the leaves were. It wasn't a bad change; it was something to be proud of. But now, in this moment, all she wanted was winter with it's long layers and coats big enough to hide in. Summer exposed.

Then, without warning, Preacher was there. She hadn't passed through an archway or a door or kicked down a fairy ring of mushrooms so bright red they looked like blood, but she was here. Bullshit magic land. The air ghosted around her, lighter, cooler than Ashdown's - so light it felt as though she might float away, like nothing could ever possibly anchor her in one spot except for here. It traced love letters on her skin, begging her to stay, put down roots as deep as any tree. Magic practically sang in her blood, whispering that she belonged here and she was comforted by it, ignored it, comforted by it. Preacher shivered and, in that small shudder of skin, changed. Fur sprouted out in a rush and the heady crunch of rearranging bones snapped through the forest. Thudding down on all fours, she darted through the underbrush, sticks looming up like hurdles - easily taken, her body sleek and graceful as she leapt.

A branch snapped. The sound was deliberate, forceful, that of a paw used to gain her attention rather than something so inelegant as a misstep and it echoed through the trees, halting her ramble. Preacher stood frozen, each muscle in her small body tensed to the point of pain. "Hello, little mink.Have you come to decide?' Slowly, jerkily, as though she were strung up on marionette's wires, she turned. No moose this time, it stood large and feline in the dappled shade of the forest. The voice was unmistakable, that heavy, overlapping whisper that skated across her skin like unwanted fingers. They stared at each other for long moments, brown eyes meeting yellow goat's eyes. She could swear shapes moved in their irises and pupils, things that didn't belong, echos of other shapes and forms. It seemed... amused by her reticence. Preacher took a few steps forward. She could, in that moment, have turned tail and run, but she was tired of running, even if it meant admitted she needed The Shifting. She remembered the heave of her body as Jamie had touched her, the frantic scrabbling to expel another's thoughts, feelings - it had been an invasion and Preacher still felt ill from it. The thought of touching another moonwalker made her skin crawl more than any strange whisper leaking out of a mouth that was not a mouth, topped by eyes that shouldn't exist. She needed this.

Birds shrieked overhead, dark bodies swirling in formation and the sun winked through the trees' branches. Summer exposed. When she spoke, the words fell from her mouth as heavy as an executioner's blade on a chopping block. There was finality in them, defeat, a horrible acknowledgement that she was sub-par and unable to handle things others had no problem with. with each syllable, bile rose at the back of her throat. "I'll do it. Tell me what I gotta do."