It was the smells that came to her first.

Usually, when she awoke, it was to sound - to her husband, Mitch, turning on National Public Radio first thing in the morning. As he helped her out of bed and helped her dress, she'd listen to a story about the reforestation efforts in Washington State, or maybe a lighter piece on someone who dressed up as Kikjak. Mitch and she would talk, or rather, he would talk and she would use sign language. Then they'd get ready for their day.

There were sounds, where she was now, but they weren't the first thing that came to her. The rich scent of pine filled the air, more than the rustle of the wind. It brought back memories of summer camping trips, before the accident of course; hot dogs on the barbecue, everyone gathered around the table. Beyond the pine were other smells she had no name for, but that were there just the same. And there was a smell she did recognize, thick and sharp... the scent of ash.

Fire, she thought. There was a fire.

She opened her eyes, and stared up at the sky. Trees reached past her field of vision, grabbing at the thick clouds that loomed overhead. There was something in front of her face, and she realized her head hurt, distractingly so. Everything was vivid - colors were brighter, details sharper. She didn't feel her glasses on her face, but they must have been there - without them, seeing detail at more than a few feet was impossible.

Forest, she thought again. I'm in a forest.

How did I get here?



"Still nothing?"

Despite himself, Mitch felt his voice crack. He rubbed his temple with a shaking hand.

"Still nothing," came the voice on the phone. "We're combing the wreckage now. We've actually called in the arson squad."

"Arson?" Mitch leaned forward, cradling the phone with both hands.

"There's no sign of any deliberate sabotage, Mister Lang, but there are... anomalies. I've never - it could take a while is what I'm saying."

"Anomalies." Mitch swallowed thickly, and stood from the couch. He looked out the window, watching the sun set on the horizon, turning the grey clouds pink and setting sunlight glittering like stardust off the buildings of the Seattle downtown core.

"Anomalies," repeated the voice. "Mister Lang, listen. Do you know what she was working on?"

"She was studying an animal."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

There was silence for a long moment, long enough for Mitch to go over what he'd left untold. Just an animal, sir. Just an animal. And if you think I'll admit that I felt different about it to another living soul, you couldn't possibly be more wrong.

"All right then. If there's any sort of update I'll let you know."

"I appreciate it, sir."

"Do you want me to notify her family for you?"

"No. No, I'll call her mother and her sister. Thanks for the offer, sir."

"We'll be in touch. Good bye, Mister Lang."

"Goodbye." Mitch turned off the phone, staring out the window, and his reflection in it.

He had reddish-brown hair, and brown eyes, and glasses from reading too much. He was heading into his thirties with grace, with only a few grey hairs to show for it, and... okay, maybe a few pounds overweight, but still. From a purely scientific viewpoint, there were plenty of good years left. But for him it felt like his life was over. Everything would be a little darker now.

Of course, he had to tell himself that she was still out there. That as long as there was no body there was hope. But it was a poisonous sort of hope, that could take days or years or forever to be realized, and until it did, the uncertainty ate at you. Not knowing killed you, a little bit every day.

But not knowing kept you going, too.

He exhaled, steam forming on the glass, the phone heavy and unused in his hand. It was a double-edged sword, hope. It was like fire; it could warm you, or hurt you. Sometimes both at once.



She breathed in, and out, nearly drowning in the intoxicating scents, and tried to calm herself. Okay, Roxanne. Just relax. God, my head hurts. Everything feels so different. How did I get out here?

She rolled her head to the side, gently, following the trunk of the nearest tree down to the ground. There was a little bit of snow in its shade. It was a pine, all right; and it was surrounded by dead leaves, twigs, and pine cones. The scent of rich soil filled her nose. She groaned slightly.

A thought entered her head, unbidden. Some types of trees used seedlings that would only burst and germinate when heated hot enough to cause a fire. That their birth was created only in the death throes of their 'parent;' like a phoenix rising from its own funeral pyre. Mitch, of course, saw meanings where she didn't, and would see it as a metaphor for rebirth. But he taught literature, where metaphor held sway, and to her it was simply an interesting means of reproduction.

She thought of him now, of the way his eyes flickered between her eyes, and the sign language of her hands. Sometimes he just watched her eyes, knowing her well enough to see how she felt from them alone. They'd known each other five years and been married three, and they could read each other well. They argued sometimes, but never fiercely. He was a gentle man and hated arguments. She felt an acidic bubble rise in her stomach, thinking of the late nights she'd dedicated to research and not to the two of them.

Something bothered her. There was something in front of her face, but that wasn't it, or at least, that wasn't just it. Something else, lost in the fog of her throbbing headache.

She rolled her head to the other side, and beheld more pine. She sucked in a breath. Okay. I have to sit up. It'd going to hurt, a lot. That little steel rod in my back is going to feel like a steam iron. But I have to get a better look around. And I need to see if I'm hurt. So come on, Roxanne. On three. One, and two, and...

Three.

She stayed lying prone.

Okay. For real this time. One, two, th -

"Ffffuuuuuuuuuck!" She winced, grabbing her head with one hand and propping herself up with the other. Her back didn't hurt, but her skull felt two sizes too small. It was as if someone had stabbed her in the forehead with a...

Her back didn't hurt. She'd cried out. She'd groaned before. She'd spoken.

But the accident - I can't -

She felt a tightness in her throat. Fifteen years it had been. A decade and a half. A long time to fall out of practice, but there were some things you never forget. She held onto the tightness, and felt her tounge, the shape of her mouth, and her lungs respond in long-neglected concert. "Hello?"

There was silence.

"Oh my God. Oh my GOD!"

The realization hit her. She tried to tense the muscles in her legs, and felt them respond. She felt her big toe wiggle, and looked down at it...

She stared.

Her left big toe was wiggling, on command. The toenail was a short, stubby claw, the toe itself covered in black fur that crawled up past her ankles and knees. The fur turned to orange past that point, crawling up her thighs and up her pelvis, and it probably continued past that point, but she'd stopped looking. Poking out from between her legs was a long, bushy, fur-covered...

Tail.

She looked to one side, and there was a second tail. She looked to the other, and there was a third. She looked down at herself, and she was covered in fur, white on her stomach and chest, black on her arms and legs, and orange everywhere else she could see. A few burnt and wet scraps of clothing were all that was left of her lab coat and blouse, and suddenly she realized what was in front of her face, as she grabbed at it with her hands.

It was a snout. A short, stubby fox's snout.

"Oh my God," she repeated. "Oh my God."

The next several minutes were a blur.

She remembered rising up, unsteady on her feet, not feeling the forest floor. She'd cast around frantically, looking for a lake or a puddle or something with a reflective surface, realizing with growing fear that she was lost.

There were no lakes, and no puddles. Of course, no puddles. It rained thirteen months of the year in Seattle so naturally there were no puddles and she needed to see herself, because it wouldn't be real until she saw herself and to do that she needed a mirror and where the hell was a GOD DAMNED MIRROR -

She stopped, staring across a small clearing. Standing there was a mirror, oblivious to how out of place it was... and more than that, it was their mirror, the full-sized one that stood in their bedroom, with worn gold plating around the frame and stand.

She didn't see herself. What she did see, floating in midair, was what was left of her jacket and blouse, and something small and golden hanging in the air.

This has to be a dream. Am I dreaming?

She looked down at herself, and could see herself just fine - no, not quite, if she squinted she could see the forest through her hands. Her wedding ring was still on her ring finger, and still fully there. She looked back to the mirror, and waved her hand, watching the small gold object in the reflection bob back and forth.

Why don't I have a -

The headache returned, a stabbing pain to the center of her forehead. She winced and groaned, and then watched as she slowly appeared in the mirror.

Her face had a snout, though it was shorter than what she'd expected. Her ears were pointed and had migrated to the top of her head. She still had head hair, but it was stark white; her eyes were a bright emerald green. Behind her were the tails, flicking in irritation. She could feel the muscles and the bones in each one. There was a little bit of her jacket left, and over the left breast was her nametag. Acute eyes focused on the face, and then looked back to the mirror.

The headache flared again, and there was a tightness in her chest. Oh my God, she thought. Oh my God, I look like... a...

The ground rushed up to meet her.



The doorbell rang. Mitch looked at it, and slowly rose, playing the conversation out in his head.

"I'm sorry, Mister Lang, but we've found her, and she's gone..."

He shook his head, as if trying to shake the thought out of the skull. I have to stay positive. "Mister Lang, good news, we found her and she's just fine..."

He looked through the door's peephole, and nodded, opening the front door. The woman standing on the step looked a lot like his wife, which made sense considering they were sisters. Nicole Richardson had black hair worn in bangs, and green eyes hidden behind wire-frame glasses. She had her raincoat on, and her eyes were puffy and swollen.

"Hi," she said.

Mitch waved her inside and shut the door. "Thanks for coming."

"Have you heard anything since you called?"

"No."

"God..." Nicole ran her fingers through her hair. "Roxy... they don't have any idea?"

Mitch shook his head. "They kept talking about 'anomalies.' I don't know what that means. Did you want something to drink?"

"Yes. God, yes. Tea if you've got it."

Mitch nodded, and headed into the kitchen. Nicole sat down on the couch, looking down at the slight rubber stain next to it. "Was anyone else hurt?"

"Her assistant Nick is in the hospital. Inhaled a lot of smoke. It was late, and there was just about no one else left in the building. I don't think anyone was really hurt, apart from... well." Mitch put a cup in the microwave, and pushed a button. "Did you call your mother?"

"Not yet. I'll do that tomorrow. God, I just spoke to her two days ago! All I did was talk about how my bookstore was going. I didn't think that..." Her face crumpled, and she put her head in her hands.

"They haven't found anything. You never know..."

"She can't speak. She can't walk. A few years ago she couldn't even move her hands. Where would she go? I - dammit. I'm sorry." Nicole leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

"I know."

"What about the... uh..."

Mitch frowned. "The what?"

"The thing she was studying. The fox."

"Ah. The fox." Mitch was silent for a few moments. What about the fox? I saw it exactly once, Nicole, and once was enough. The way it looked at me... I swear, I have never seen that in an animal. It always gave me a weird feeling, but I'm not going to say a word. Because it'd sound completely insane, what I have to say. "They haven't found the fox either. It doesn't count as a fatality in the fire though, because, well. It's just an animal."

"Roxanne would box your ears for that."

"I know."

"She loved animals as a kid. Ever since elementary. It didn't surprise me at all, that she grew up to become a zoologist and biologist. We had this cat, Mister Fizzywig we called him. It was our cat, but really, it was hers. Died last year, poor old guy."

"What happened?"

"Urinary stuff. Had to have him put down."

Mitch nodded, and took the tea out of the microwave. He brought it over to her. "I think she told me about the cat. Didn't know his name, though."

"Well... Dad came up with the name."

"Ah."

"Yeah." She took the tea, drinking it. "That's good tea."

"It's Roxanne's favorite. I prefer coffee."

"God, you know what's the worst, Mitch?"

"What?"

"I was thinking about Dad. Fifteen years since the car crash now, and I have to look at his picture to remember what he looked like. If I try to remember on my own, I just remember the picture. I can't remember his voice that well. I - " She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't want that to happen to Roxy. Dammit, she has less than a year on the waiting list! She was gonna be walking in a few years - "

"She's going to." Mitch tried to keep all the uncertainty out of his voice. "Roxanne is going to walk across this floor one of these days. You'll be right there when it happens."

"But you can't know that - "

"I can't let myself think anything else, Nicole. I cannot do that. You can't either. Hey." He pulled her close, giving her a hug. "Just imagine how good it's going to feel when we see her again."



When she awoke, it was night.

She pulled herself up into a sitting position, and looked at the mirror. For a moment she thought she'd be back to normal, but, no. It hadn't been a dream, even though it'd felt like one. What was the mirror doing here...?

She looked at herself. She swallowed, and then spoke out loud. "Baa baa black sheep. Huh." She peered closer at the mirror. "Lips. I can form words. That's so... huh."

Keep focusing on the small stuff, Roxanne. That'll make the big stuff go away, won't it?

She examined the snout. It was shorter than a fox's, and the lips more expressive. She opened her mouth again, and gasped at the rows of sharp teeth. "Whuh."

She rubbed her forehead. The headache was gone. She then looked down at the remains of her jacket, and sighed as she pulled it off. She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling sick.

I'm a freak. Look at me. God, just look at me. She held up the nametag, running a clawed pair of fingers over the image. What happened to me? What the hell happened to me?

She felt her stomach rise again, and leaned over, vomiting. She heaved again, and gasped for air, the acrid scent of stomach acid filling her nostrils. She saw spots in front of her eyes.

What happened? Think. There was the fire. I was on the third floor. My assistant had gone to the bathroom and never came back. The air was so hot, and then I... I...

"What the hell?" Roxanne looked at the mirror, perplexed, as it rippled with green energy, and began to shrink. The gold plating vanished, and so did her reflection, as the mirror folded in on itself and became a small rock the size of a basketball.

"Uh." She tapped the rock with a finger. "Hello? I was using that."

There was silence.

"I'm talking to a rock. I've gone mad."

Hmmm. No. Wait. Hang on. She looked down at her hands again. Just stay calm. Think, Roxanne. Earn your paycheck. I didn't have a reflection before. Why? Where did that mirror come from? How could that sort of thing - oh.

The possibility hadn't even occurred to her. But now that it had, suddenly it made sense. It wasn't something that she thought about, because she knew what the odds were. She'd sat down one night and counted all the improbable events that were more likely than...

But it made sense. The headaches. No reflection. The mirror that turned into a rock. The fact the she suddenly looked like a... hell, a fox, and could walk and talk again.

"Nova," she said, softly. She stood herself back up, feeling lightheaded. This is magical thinking. I can't just assume... well, let's just take a test. Do something only a nova can do. Like, say, turn a rock into a mirror.

She looked down at the rock. If it was me who did it before, I should be able to do it. So just relax. X-googleplex of molecules becomes... uhm.

She stared at the rock, flicking a tail in mild frustration. I don't know how many molecules are in this thing. And I don't know how many are in a mirror. So how did I do it? How'd I just... move them all around, without seeing it? C'mon, how many molecules are in this thing. I need to know.

She nudged the rock with her foot, and despite herself, smiled. The simple sensation of the ground beneath her feet was very welcome.

C'mon. How many molecules and what kind? ... hell, does it even matter what kind, I wonder? I don't think there's enough metal in there for the frame. I'm really sure there isn't enough gold. And there might not even be enough molecules... I'm sure the mirror's heavier. So where did the molecules come from?

Okay, come at it from the other direction. Composition and shape of a mirror. Silver, glass, gold... steel, I think. Stainless steel. How much silver, though? It's less than a millimeter thick, so let's assume 3 micrometers, and that times... what were the dimensions of that silly thing again? About yeh big? Good precise measurement there. Dammit, just turn into a mirror already -

The rock was surrounded in green energy. It grew. Roxanne gasped, and stepped back, feeling a tingling in her skull. The rock grew stands, and flattened out. The cloudy surface became clear, and Roxanne saw herself, and saw a soft green glow fading from her eyes.

I just thought, 'turn into a mirror.' And it did.

She laughed. She clasped her hands over her mouth, as if to stop the giggles, but they fought their way free. I turned a rock into a mirror! Oh my God, I really did that! "Oh my God. Oh my GOD. Ahaha. I turned a rock into a mirror! I'm TALKING about it!" She hopped up and down in place. "I'm doing a jig! Ahahahaha, oh my God, this is really happening! I'm - "

She looked at her reflection, her eyes traveling up and down her fur-covered body. She felt her empty stomach turn.

"I'm a female fox. A... a vixen."

Her shoulders sagged, and her tails drooped. She sat down in front of the mirror, looking at herself.

"Become a human being," she said to herself.

Nothing happened.

"Become normal."

Still nothing.

She looked down at herself, then back at the mirror. Go back to being a rock.

Obediently, her reflection disappeared. She curled up, resting her head on her knees, and choked back a sob.



Nighttime wore on. Eventually, Roxanne stood up, brushing tears away.

All right. I have to find the highway. I have to get back to the city. God, Mitch must be going out of his mind. Here I was playing around and he probably thinks I'm dead...

She felt the thought form, and tried to stop it, but the mind had a way of doing what it wanted. Maybe it's better that way...

No. No, don't think that. He'll be happy. He'll be so happy.

Oh he will, will he? He'll be so happy you're alive he'll overlook you turning into a Muppet?

Dammit, stop it, Roxanne, stop thinking this way. She shook her head. It happened at times, especially at night. She'd wake up and stare at the ceiling, and feel him next to her... and be aware of all the things that married couples did in their bed, that they'd never done. Instead, he needed to help her out of bed and into a chair. She couldn't call for him, and would have to sign instead or ring the buzzer on her chair. It was hard not to feel inadequate.

He'd never been unfaithful, at least, not as far as she knew. Sometimes she thought he'd had to have been, and she wondered if she'd really blame him if he had.

Well, same problem, different reason, then -

"No, stop it, Roxanne." She rubbed her eyes. "Right. First things first."

She turned around, glaring at the rock. Obediently, it reshaped itself into the mirror. She sucked in a deep breath when she saw herself. Okay. Novas can do what they do on instinct. So all I have to do is poke around up there and figure out what I can do. I didn't have a reflection before, but I could see myself...

She concentrated, trying to recall the mental state she'd been in. She held up a hand, and watched as it became slightly transparent, and watched her reflection disappear.

Novas are supposed to be immune to their own powers. What if I can turn invisible? It'd make a bit more sense than not having a reflection. But without anyone around, how can I -

She yelped as something hit her from behind. She turned around, rubbing her lower back, and watched a bird on the ground, struggling to get back on its feet. It hopped around a bit, then took wing...

Oh fuck -

"OW!" Roxanne winced as it rammed into her chest. "Stop it, you stupid bird!"

The bird took off again, flying straight for her again -

It flew through her. She blinked, and turned around, watching it go on its way. Roxanne looked down at her feet, which no longer felt like they were standing on jagger twigs, but even ground... and they were half-submerged in the earth.

She walked along, staring at her feet, until she reached a nearby tree. She waved a hand through the tree, and whistled. "Wow."

So I can turn invisible and make myself... unsolid? Wow. But what'll happen if I resolidify with all those twigs down there...?

Very carefully, she tried to coax her mind back towards 'solid.' She felt a pressure of sorts, on her feet, and lifted up on foot to relieve it, then the other. She noticed that when she set her foot down she could feel the twigs again.

She exhaled. Then gasped. "My ring!" She looked around frantically on the forest floor, breathing a sigh of relief when she found it.

Well, that settles that. I displace things when I resolifidy, which explains why I didn't just die from air bubbles in my blood. All this from a fire? Roxanne thought back to the fire, remembering the rush of heat, and the scent of the ash. She felt a sudden heat in her left hand, and looked down.

A small ball of blue flame hovered in her hand.

"Ah!" She flung it, instinctively, and watched it fly. It impacted on the ground, and the blue flame was soon joined by orange ones.

"Ah! Shit! Shit shit shit!"

Remember, only you can prevent forest fires.

"Don't be fire! Stop being fire! Fuck fuck fuck. Think. Think."

The fire began to spread, quickly. The smoke filled her nostrils. She coughed.

It doesn't work like that, obviously. Make something that'll put out the fire. Like a CO2 extinguisher.

She turned around, grabbing the mirror. Okay. Become a fire extinguisher.

It reshaped in her hand, suffused with the green energy... but something felt wrong. A fire extinguisher was... complicated. On a molecular level, of course, no more so than any other ball of metal and gas, but getting it all to work together...

I'm not burning down this forest! Come on...!

It became a solid metal cylinder. Roxanne grasped the trigger, which refused to budge. She held it up, and swore. "It's all one piece! Dammit - " She chucked it at the fire in frustration. Just put it out!

The canister changed in midair, and when it impacted with the fire there was a sharp hiss, and steam rose from the ground. Roxanne looked at the pile of flickering ashes and wet twigs, and burst out laughing.

Ice cream. I turned a rock into ice cream.

Her stomach growled, and she stopped laughing.



Half an hour later, Roxanne was seriously reconsidering her position on vegetarianism.

Fortunately, while the forest was full of unfamiliar scents, ones she recognized were carried on the breeze. The campsite's occupants were fast asleep, and they'd left a food camper outside their tent.

Even starving, she felt guilty about it; about prying the camper open carefully and grabbing a beer and some potato chips. She'd pay them back when she got a chance, of course, and made note of a license plate number for that purpose. It didn't make her feel any better though.

She downed the beer and ate the chips, feeling better, or at least, fuller. She dribbled beer on her chest fur, which dried and got sticky, but dematerializing solved the problem. That solved, she turned towards the problem of getting back to the city. She could follow the trail of the campers, and that would lead her back to the highway. Then if she hitchhiked she could...

She'd get a lot of stares, that's what.

I'm going about this the wrong way. I shouldn't ask how I get home, I should ask how I got out here.

She thought back to the fire. Her memory of it was hazy. Feeling the heat in the floor, going for the switch, the stabbing pain in her shoulder... the glass window breaking from the heat. The rush of air. Hearing the sirens, so far away, and then...

Hmmm, wait. Go back. The glass.

She replayed the moment in her mind. The glass shattered, and there was a blur.

Did it break from the heat? Or did something else break it?

I got out here somehow. How'd I do it?

She looked up at the sky, and sucked in a breath. She tried to remember the blur, and slowly, the memory came back. The heat bleeding away, the rush of the wind in her fur. The blur of the grey cityscape, giving way to the green and brown of the forest. It felt...

It felt like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of its funeral pyre.

She suddenly realized she couldn't feel the ground beneath her feet. She looked down, ad found herself hovering a foot off the ground. She wiggled her toes.

I'm standing on nothing. No, that's not it - I'm not standing at all.

She looked upwards, and slowly, she floated upwards. She started to gain speed, and before she knew it, she was two hundred feet up. The wind was cold, but her fur kept it out. She looked around, and spotted the glow of the city, and smiled.

Okay. I'm not showing up in my bare ski - in my bare fur. So let's see...

She wadded up the potato chip wrapper and stuffed it into the beer can she'd been holding. She concentrated, and the can rippled, lengthening and softening. In second, she had a silk dress, which she slipped on, after fiddling with the straps.

There. Nudity problem solved. He'll be absolutely fine with how I look as long as I'm still decent, right?

She looked out towards the city, and sighed.

Right?

She flew towards the lights.



Navigating a city from the air was trickier than it seemed, but after a few hours, she'd found their house.

She stared at the front door, and sighed. She looked up and down the street, which at 4:00 in the morning was deserted. No one saw her. Still.

I go through this door, and everything changes.

He'll be happy I'm alive. He has to. But... hell. How long before he starts being bothered by all of this? Is it going to be a problem? Jesus, how could it not be a problem?

She ran her fingers through her hair, and sighed. She tried the door handle. It was locked.

Figures. Okay, no problem, I just walk through...

She turned ethereal, and then she groaned, holing a hand to her forehead as her dress cascaded through her ghostly form, and her wedding ring bounced off the step and into the brush. I think they make you trade in one of your PhD's if you act this dumb for this long.

She resolidifed, and pulled her ring out of the underbrush. She pushed it through the door, and then picked up her dress, stuffing it through the slot.

She nodded, turning ethereal again, and walked through the door. She reached down to pick up her ring, and then stopped, sniffing the air.

I can smell him.

She'd never smelt him, the way she could right now. But she still recognized it. Somehow - maybe from three years of marriage - she knew it was him. There was someone else too, that after a moment's thought reminded her of Nicole.

The smell was coming from the balcony. She looked across the main room, and saw him out there, staring out across the yard and towards the lights of downtown.

God, he's crying. I can see his shoulders shake.

Still ethereal, she made her way across the room, walking through the balcony doors. She turned herself invisible along the way, not wanting to startle him more than needed. She stood behind him, watching him for what felt like forever. When forever ended, she spoke.

"Mitch?"

He started, whipping around. His bloodshot eyes looked right through her, not seeing. "Who's there?"

"It's me."

"Who's there?"

Of course. He's never heard me speak. "It's Roxanne, Mitch."

"This isn't funny! My wife can't speak. Who's there? I have a gun - "

"I swear. It's me. Something's happened. You have to promise not to panic, okay?"

"I..." He looked around. Roxanne could smell his sweat, and hear the fear in his voice. She sucked in a breath, and resolidified, and reappeared.

He stared at her, stunned. She looked down, feeling embarrassed, then looked back up, meeting his gaze. Slowly she brought her hands into position, to make the signs.

The fire didn't kill me. Something happened. I think that I...

She hesitated, not remembering the sign for 'nova.' He continued to stare at her, not taking his gaze away from her eyes.

I blew up. No wait. I... flew. I changed. I cannot remember the right signs... "So I'll just say it. I think I erupted, Mitch. I think I'm a nova. I flew. I flew away from the fire and when I woke up I, I looked like this, and..."

She stopped. He stepped forth, inches from her face. He brushed a thumb across the fur on her cheek, and she realized that he'd wiped away a tear.

"I knew," he said softly. "The second I saw your eyes, I knew it was you. Oh, thank God, Roxy...!"

He pulled her close, hugging her tight. She returned the hug, letting out the breath she'd been holding. "I'll explain everything - "

"It can wait." He held her tight. "Whatever it is, it can wait for now."



"... and after I figured out that I could fly, I headed straight down here."

Mitch and Nicole were on the couch, while Roxanne sat in her chair. She'd put on a robe, and had her ring back on. Roxanne gesticulated as she talked, almost to distraction, but neither Nicole nor Mitch said anything. There was an empty plate of noodles in front of her.

Nicole looked over at the bottle of wine on the table that was now solid chocolate, by way of demonstration of Roxane's powers. "What happens if we eat that?"

"I wouldn't. The rock changed back on its own, I remember. I think it lasts about four hours."

"Wow." Nicole sat back, and grinned. "You know, you sound just like how I thought you would."

"Yeah, I... yeah." Roxanne scratched the back of her head. "It feels so good, you know? So good to be able to just... just talk."

"Do you need some more food, Roxanne?"

"I'd love some more noodles. I'm sorry, I'm eating like a... a pig."

"No, you had one hell of a day. Hang on, I'll make you some." Mitch got up, and went into the kitchen.

Nicole looked Roxanne over. "So you can turn anything into anything else?"

"I haven't tried it on 'anything,' but... maybe."

"That's awesome. Can you do it to people too?"

"Uh." Roxanne swallowed. "I... I don't want to think about that. I haven't tried. If I made a mistake..."

"No, no rush. They'll figure it out when you call them."

"Them?"

"Project Utopia, of course. The nova people. You know how much money they offer just to start with?"

"I... I never checked. A lot?"

"Tons."

"Huh." Roxanne heard the microwave turn on. She sat back. "Well, there are student loans... the mortgage..."

"Maybe they'll let you join Team Tomorrow, too."

Roxanne laughed. "No. No. No, I don't see myself doing that."

"You don't see yourself working around big men with lots of muscles in outfits so tight you can tell if they're Jewish?"

Roxanne threw a pillow, which Nicole dodged. "God, you're such a nympho."

Nicole threw the pillow back. "But seriously. This is big, Roxy. I get so many people asking about nova biographies, it's insane."

"Well, one thing at a time. If they can help with the headaches, that'd be great. If they can figure out what to do with, you know, my hair situation that's even better. But right now I want to take it slow. Oh, you're a prince." She took the bowl from Mitch's hands as he returned.

Mitch sat down. "What's this about Project Utopia and a hair situation?"

"Nicole thinks I should contact Project Utopia. I think I'll call Mom first, but after that, yeah. I want to see if there's anything they can do about, you know..."

"I wasn't sure how to ask, but since you bring it up..."

"Yeah."

"How exactly did the, er, hair situation come about?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I saw that documentary. I know that I just teach literature but I'm pretty sure I understood it right. When novas erupt, what's going through their mind shapes what happens. So I have to ask. I notice that you have three... er..."

"Three tails."

"Yeah."

"And so did the fox." Roxanne shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. I didn't want to think about it, but you're right."

"Do you know what happened when you erupted?"

Roxanne was silent.



fire fire everywhere

the fox was trapped

so was she

air thick with smoke

arm reaching for the cage release

she pushed the button

she didn't remember pushing it but she had to have

because the fox leapt into her lap

and bit her on the shoulder

and suddenly it was all she could think about

all she could think about was the fox

and wonder why she had three tails

and wonder why she had three tails



"I don't know." She shook her head.

"I see."

"I don't remember what happened to her. Did they find her?"

Nicole shook her head. Mitch coughed. "You remember what I said, when you told me about it, after that tourist brought it back from Japan?"

"That she was a kitsune."

"I can't help but think. I said that they could create little balls of flame, turn invisible and ethereal, and create illusions so perfect they fooled the world itself. And now..."

"Now I can too." She shook her head. "I don't know. What, you think I got bitten by a magic fox?"

"I don't know. Maybe it wasn't a fox. Maybe it was a nova and it did something to you. Or maybe you just had the myth in your head at the time..."

"Or, whatever. It's done." She threw up her hands, frustrated. "I don't get a do-over, do I? I'm stuck like this. I just... look, I love walking. I love talking. I love being able to just say , instead of using that damn synthesizer or signing. I love that I will never, ever have to sit in a wheelchair again. I just wish that..."

Mitch leaned forward. He took her hand. She felt his wedding ring scrape against hers. "You wish you didn't look like this."

"God, of course I do. I mean, look at me..."

"I'm looking." He just smiled. "Roxanne - when I married you, I did it knowing that I might never dance with you, that I might never hear you sing, that everything would take extra time and extra effort. I never regretted it before. I'm not about to start now. I meant it when I said 'in sickness and in health.' I'll call this health."

Roxanne met his eyes, silent for a long moment. Then she pulled him close, resting her head on his shoulder. "You always know just what to say..."

"Oh, you're a flatterer. It's okay, Roxanne. This isn't going to be any kind of problem."

"Thanks." She sniffed. "I'm sorry. I'm really tired."

"Me too."

"Me three," said Nicole. "I'm too tired to drive. You mind if I use the couch? I'll call Mom when I get up. Give her the good news."

"Oh, sure."

Nicole nodded. Then she grinned, and joined in the hug. "My sister's a nova. No, forget that, my sister's back on her feet. No, forget that, my sister's alive. It's already a beautiful day."