Erica grabbed the counter for balance as a wave of vertigo swept over her, making the kitchen tilt alarmingly.

That's the fourth time since I started on these beans. And I was right, I'm definitely feeling weaker and shakier after each one. What's going on?

Well, we know what's going on. Theo's now living in a pond, Ali's dropped out of contact, Des just strolled through here looking and acting rather emphatically feline—which isn't such a surprise, all things considered, it suits her. We're all changing.

We know green fae are very common. We know that faelings who are green fae are usually strongly oriented towards plants, so it's very likely that I'm a green fae.

I hope I don't turn all Rackham-ish and surreal like some of the ones we saw outside that one night.

She'd eaten a handful of the yellow wax beans she was cleaning, after the second spell, in hopes that it was just low blood sugar or some faeling equivalent, but that clearly wasn't it.

If she was green fae, maybe being outside would be better.

She moved down the counter to where Zach was peeling potatoes, and laid a hand on his shoulder; when he looked up, she gave him a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek, and smiled and shook her head when his expression turned to worry.

Immediately outside the door, she began to feel less light-headed.

Reassured that she was on the right track, she paused to orient herself on the nearest garden, and went in that direction.

Like the majority that were in the centre rather than outside, it was an herb garden, a large circular patch with a spiral of cracked stone making a narrow path into it for access. She dropped to her knees beside it, and dug her bare hands into the soil.

There weren't really weed seeds, as such, here in this controlled environment, but there were plants that did try to spread themselves more aggressively than others. One was invading the garden, rearing its head among the oregano plants that belonged here. Erica ran a hand down to the base of the stalk, dug around in the soil until she had a good grip on the root, and pulled it out.

The sense of discomfort as she tore it free made her breath catch. She dropped it on the grass beside the garden, and smoothed over the hole it had left, making sure the oregano that had been closest hadn't been damaged; the unpleasant feeling melted away, replaced by comfort.

They really didn't need much attention, but she fussed over them anyway, just because she could and it felt good to do it. Being in the kitchen had given her a chance to spot at least some of the drugged food, but she'd missed getting her hands dirty and caring for living plants instead of turning their produce into a more appealing edible form. Not having access to one of her best ways of relaxing, while under constant stress, had been frustrating.

Erica paused, and looked down at her soil-streaked hands.

All four fingers were the same length.

She was sure she would have noticed if that had been the case over the past two weeks. Which meant it was something that had just happened now.

Okay, that feels and looks a little strange, but it's no big deal.

But where did the vines across my lap come from?

Oh!

The simple green clothing she'd been wearing all this time, which was extremely basic with only a wide strap over each shoulder and a low straight waistband, fit close to her skin with no restriction at all; she'd gotten accustomed to that, though she'd have preferred a little support for her large breasts despite their being more firm than they'd been as a human.

Now, it was flowing down so the two pieces met. As they meshed into one, it constricted around her torso, pulling her waist inwards and shaping itself around her breasts, and growing more rigid at the same time. She turned her attention from the vines, under which she was sure there was only bare tan-brown skin, to this new and alarming event.

The straps of her top had simply vanished, but from about hip-level up, what remained was darkening into a rich brown with the patterning and texture of polished wood. The only analogy she could think of for the way it was tightening around her was a corset, which she'd never had a chance to wear though the idea had long intrigued her and she'd intended to look into getting one: there was pressure around her diaphragm and abdomen, and she couldn't bend her spine at all.

How much was it going to tighten?

In sudden panic, she clawed at it, trying to find a seam, anything she could get her nails into to get it off and stop it while she was still able to breathe, but the smooth surface was absolutely unbroken anywhere.

Slow your breathing down! You're starting to hyperventilate! It's not going to kill you, stupid, unless you hate yourself way down deep an awful lot more than you ever thought!

What if it isn't from inside us?

Of course it is. Des is a cat!

She struggled to control her shallow rapid breathing, forcing herself to focus just on that, nothing else. It wasn't actually getting any tighter now, was it? It was just the unaccustomed pressure around her ribs and diaphragm, making it impossible to take a truly deep breath. She only had to get her breathing back to normal and then she'd be fine. Women had lived their whole lives in corsets tighter than this, and some still did voluntarily.

More quickly than she gained any success, her body stopped crying for oxygen.

In fact, she forgot all about it, as creeping tiredness and fear-born adrenaline were both washed away in a flood of energy that tingled through her, warm and pleasant as the rush of satisfaction from a project completed beyond expectation, but it continued, steady and strong.

Where is that coming from?

With the fear fading, she got carefully to her feet, her balance altered by the restriction of the wooden corset, and took a closer look at herself.

The leafy vines across her lap grew downward all the way around from the bottom edge of the corset, tendrils interlinking here and there. The whole thing formed a surprisingly dense skirt down to, at most, her calves, though the length varied. Gently, she stroked them. Those were living plants, not artificial ones, and they merged seamlessly into the inescapable corset—which made both the corset and the skirt of vines effectively a part of her.

How effectively? Could the leaves actually be photosynthesizing? Well, if they were alive, they must be. But could that be the source of the extra energy? Surely there wasn't nearly enough surface area for that.

Then again, her skin looked less simply brown. From some angles, it had a distinct green shimmer, rather like the green that was visible under the dark purple on a close inspection of a red maple leaf. That would greatly increase the surface area. Although on reflection, she had no idea how to apply her knowledge of plants to, well, her own body.

Now that she wasn't so frightened, she ran her hands down the corset, exploring the shape of it. This fae body had always had a more pronounced narrowing at her waist than she was used to, giving her the kind of silhouette she'd wished for repeatedly, but the corset emphasized it further without, she was sure, being so extreme as to look unnatural. It was probably quite striking to see, really. The wood of it curved comfortably under her breasts, cradling them while still leaving the upper surface exposed, and the fit was perfect, as opposed to the difficulties she'd often had with choosing a bra. The rigidity of it was going to take some getting used to, definitely, but it was support as much as it was restriction.

Okay, corset, skirt, skin, hands, had anything else changed? Nothing she could readily see, she concluded after a moment.

She reached up to pull a lock of hair around into view, and found more leaves.

With more care, she gathered up a handful and brought it forward over her shoulder.

It wasn't bronzy-brown with a possible ambiguous hint of green anymore. It was all-out green, but not a single shade; the yellow-green of new leaves blended into the deeper green of a mature leaf and that into the dark green of an oak, with endless variation between. Much the same length as her hair were two yellowish tendrils, rather like the thin outermost branches of a weeping willow, each with long narrow silver-green leaves growing along it. She followed one upwards, found as expected that it was growing from her scalp with her hair, and the two she was looking at weren't alone.

Okay. Green fae. Right. We got that prediction right, at least.

Nothing like roots, thank heaven, but I think at least part of my metabolism is now plant-like, not animal-like. What passes for sunlight here is obviously enough to keep plants and trees healthy, so let's hope it works for me, too. No, it must, that has to be why I'm feeling so awake and energetic now after being so tired earlier while I was inside. I think I had to get outside in the light before my body could do its thing.

I guess I'm living outside now.

Zach's probably worried about me, I should go tell him I'm okay. Or show him, at least. I hope Ali gets herself sorted out soon, we were just getting used to being able to talk again and if we're all over the place we're going to need her more than ever. I hope she's okay. And Theo. And Des, wherever she's wandered off to with her chicken. And I hope this is over fast and easy for Jace and Zach and Suze.

She looked around, figured out which way it was to the house, and started in that direction. The rustling of her living skirt with every step made her tug at it restlessly for a moment, but she finally gave up and accepted it. The corset, forcing her spine straight, kept her from dropping into her habitual slight hunch forward, a posture learned many years ago to minimize attention to her large breasts; that made her more uncomfortable mentally than it did physically, like she was thrusting herself forward, but that affected her gait as well, turned it into long strides with her head high. That felt rather good, actually, even if any confidence it projected was only an illusion under the circumstances.

Something at the edge of her awareness nagged at her, urging her to go more to the right. She hesitated, wanting to reassure Zach to whatever extent the sight of her transformation would do so, but whatever it was, it was faint but persistent.

She could go check that out, see what it was, then go to the house.

It led her, by a rather tentative game of hot-and-cold, to another herb garden. Even from a few feet away, she could see that it was in need of attention. It looked, in fact, like someone had walked or run right through the middle of the garden, with mint plants lying on their sides, leaves and stems broken on some. Possibly someone had dropped something large in it, as well, or had fallen down, since there was a single larger patch affected.

Zach forgotten, she stepped into the garden and knelt down to start repairing the damage to the plants. They needed her help, were crying out for it, and she couldn't ignore that.