Clarissa

"Here," Dylan said, handing me the goblet.

The saltwater wasn't as clean as tap water. Bubbles swirled around in the cup, and several bits of sand had already sunk to the bottom.

I looked at him. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course not," he said.

It seemed as if all the blue light in the tide pool had coalesced into the bottom of the glass.

I raised my glass. "Bottom's up, I guess."

The first taste almost made me gag. Salty and thick. It slid over my tongue, leaving behind an oily brine.

I forced myself to swallow it immediately and it tried to come back up.

"Drink it, Clarissa," Ben urged. "It will make you better. It'll get rid of your feathers."

I had to. I had to. It wasn't going to get any easier.

Plugging my nose, I tipped back my head and guzzled the last of it. The cup slipped free from my fingers as I fell to my knees, one hand to my throat. The salt burned. I tried to gag, and I fully expected to come back up… But nothing did.

Then Dylan was at my side, kneeling beside me and pushing something into my fingers. Another cup of water.

"No," I gasped through a mouth suddenly parched. Everything I breathed tasted like salt.

"No, it's clean water. There's a stream in here of fresh water. Go on. Drink it."

I took another sip, but everything tasted like salt in my mouth. If it was clean water, I couldn't tell. I took another mouthful, swirled around, then spit. Then I did it again. My stomach still rolled ominously, but it wasn't actively trying to come up to my throat anymore.

"How do you feel?" Ben asked. Then he looked at Dylan. "How long does it take to work?"

"I don't know." He looked at me. "Do you feel any different?"

"No. Maybe?" I still felt like I was going to throw up. I don't think that I would ever put extra salt in my meal ever again.

Wiping my mouth, I stood up and reached under the back of my shirt to feel my shoulder blade.

The feathers were still there.

I shook my head at Dylan's questioning look.

"Well, even antibiotics take a few days to kick in," Dylan said, rising to his feet as well.

"She doesn't have another few days." Ben looked at the softly glowing tide pool. "Maybe you should drink another cup?"

No way.

"Maybe tomorrow. We'll see how I feel then," I said.

A cloud passed over the sky obscuring the moon's light. The blue glow of the tide pool dimmed and then went out.

The healing magic was gone… if it ever had been magic in the first place.

We went back to the mansion, and I tumbled into the first bed that I could find, falling asleep almost instantly.

The next day, there wasn't any change. My feathers were still there. Aside from some massive heartburn and a queasy feeling, I didn't notice anything different.

In fact… No, that wasn't right. There was something different.

I was able to find Dylan easily. He was reading a book in the library.

"Dylan," I said.

He looked up and I turned around, pulling up the back of my shirt to show the feathers still there. "Is it my imagination, or are there more?"

I didn't dare look in the mirror to confirm.

Dylan didn't answer right away, and by his silence, I knew he had seen what I felt. There was a new trail of feathers going down the length of my spine.

"I don't understand," Dylan said. "My vision and the letter said the tide pool would fix things."

I lowered my shirt and turned around. "My birthday is tomorrow."

"Maybe if we return to the tide pool. If you, I don't know —"

I cut him off. "No, you are right about some things, but I can't risk this. I need to leave."

"No—" he started to say.

"It's over." I turned away from him because I couldn't stand to see the fear and the defeat in his face. "I just want to enjoy what I can right now, on my last day. Then tonight… I need to get away."

Far away. As far as I could.

I wouldn't end up like Terry. I wasn't going to put anyone else in danger.

My eyes stung and I wiped away a tear impatiently.

"Okay," Dylan said after a long moment. "Whatever you want, Clarissa."

I nodded and, still not looking at him, headed down to the beach.

Maybe once before the world had turned I would have used my last day to goof off, to celebrate. People had bucket lists or Make-A-Wish programs. Fun things to accomplish before they died.

But now there was too much to do and not enough time to do it.

If I had died before the turning, there would have been adults to take over for me. Now, Dylan and I were as good as the adults, and I had to get things set up before I… left.

At least Dylan had eight months to go before he turned seventeen. Ben had years… If he managed to last that long.

It wasn't complete altruism that spurred me to work through my last day.

If I was working and directing Lilly, Ben, and the others to pull supplies from the warehouse, to set up bedding areas and discover fishing nets, and other tools to gather food from the sea… Then I didn't have to think about how the day was slipping away from me. I didn't have to think about the fact that this would be the last sunset I would ever see.

Don't be dramatic, I told myself with a bit of gallows humor. Griffins have eyes. I'll still be able to see the sunset.

But I wouldn't be myself.

Then evening came and suddenly there wasn't any more time left for me. Word had gotten around, possibly through Dylan… Or maybe Lilly had sensed something. She was much too observant for her own good.

Merlot had rehydrated some meals out of our supplies — more than we normally used. Even though this would be the last human meal that I would probably ever taste — or remember tasting — I couldn't bring myself to eat it. Not even the meat portions.

I push the food around my plate, caught Dylan's eye, and nodded.

Ben started to cry as I rose from the table. He ran to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I held him, a hand petting his hair, but I wasn't able to summon up any words for him. I couldn't figure out a way to say goodbye.

Be strong, I wanted to say, but I knew that he already was. Be good.

But… Ben was already the best of us. He would grow up to be a leader. I could see it already. At least… Until he turned seventeen. Then it would be his turn to go as well.

I had to push him away.

Dylan helped. "Come on," he said to Ben. "We will see her off."

Ben finally disengaged his hold from me and then nodded.

The sun had set a couple hours before, and the moon rose early, bright and full as we set off down the beach. No one took any blankets or supplies. Where I was going, I would need supplies.

Was this how Terry felt? I wondered. Well, if he did or did not, I was going to face my turning stronger than he had been. I wasn't sure what it said about me that remembering Terry's weakness at the very and gave me the strength not to cry.

Finally, when we reach the edge of the beach, and the invisible bubble that protected us from the rest of the world, I turned to Dylan and Ben.

"I need to go alone," I said. "I'm not going to put you in any danger.

"You still have time," Dylan said. He looked far older than sixteen years old. The lines on his face and jaw were starker in the moonlight. He looked strong.

I shook my head. "I need to get as far away from this sanctuary as I can. That way… I won't be able to find my way back."

I knelt then and gripped my younger brother's shoulders. He was trembling under my touch, but the tears had stopped.

"I love you," I said.

He nodded. "Me too. Clarissa… I won't forget you."

I smiled and kissed his forehead. I wished I could say the same. Then I turned to Dylan. My friend. The look in his dark eyes was terrible.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "For what?"

"For not finding a cure. For not — not telling you right away."

Telling me about how he felt, I realized he meant.

I shook my head and pulled him into a hug. He was my friend and I would've liked to think that I could have one day been with him, romantically. That we could have grown and been happy together.

We stayed like that for a long time. The crash of the waves was the only conversation between us. Then, I drew away.

I turned and walked down the beach to the north. It seemed to be the easiest way to travel.

Ben made a sobbing sound behind me, but I couldn't afford to look back. As I walked, I finally let the tears fall. It was safe to do it here, where no one else could see them.

* * *

The day of my 17th birthday dawned clear and clean. The fog burned off early and for the first time in a long time, I didn't want to bother watching the skies for signs of griffins.

Let them come. Maybe it would be a mercy.

I stayed near the coast upon the wet sand where it was compacted and easier to walk. No griffins came. Overhead, small birds too tiny to be much of a griffin meal chirped and fluttered and swooped, like stealth fighters as they fought over nests and rocky caves.

Still, I didn't see a sign of a griffin. Maybe I was still within the sanctuary's protective force. Or, more likely, they had gone off to richer hunting grounds towards the direction of the cities. It didn't matter.

As I walked, I became aware of a strange sensation singing under my skin. Something between anticipation and fear. It was an itching, tingling feeling that I first put off to anxiety… But then became too strong to ignore.

Terry must've felt this, too, I thought bitterly. Towards the end.

I was on a long stretch of a lonely beach. A log of driftwood, probably the remains of a massive tree, had been thrown up on the beach by a recent storm. I sat on it, kicked off my shoes, and dug my toes into the warm sand. The sun was warm on my face, too, but the brisk ocean wind kept the worst of it at bay.

When the turning finally came for me, there is no doubt of what it was. A ripple crossed my skin, like all the hairs on my body were standing up on end. I gasped, my eyes opening.

I'm going to die, I thought. This is it.

Well, it wouldn't be death. Exactly. But I wouldn't be me any longer. It was a death of self. It was close enough.

The feathers on my back itched fiercely. I would have torn at them, except for the sudden, cramping, fluttering sensations that took over my belly. It felt like all my insides are moving at the same time.

My clothing felt restrictive.

Gasping, I pulled my shirt over my head, bra and all. Then I slipped off my pants. I was alone on the beach and it wasn't like I needed clothing anymore.

Please, I thought, tears gathering in the corner of my eyes. Please be far enough away not to want to go back to hunt my friends. I don't want to hurt anyone. Please.

Another wave of force rippled over my skin. I curled forward, hands and knees on the sand. In front of my eyes, my skin split apart as hundreds of russet red feathers pushed through.

I cried out, once. My mouth opened, but my tongue was different than before. My teeth are melting… It didn't hurt.

Again and again, the waves rippled over me, changing my body, mutating me. Wings, strong and long, erupted from my back. If I had time to think beyond amazement and fear, I would have thought my rest red plumage must've been beautiful.

My vision changed, and waped — colors were more vibrant than they'd ever been before. Scents and sounds, too.

I looked down at my hands and saw three taloned like claws, scaley like a chicken or hawk.

My tail lashed and there was a curious burning sensation. I cocked my head and saw under my feet that the sand where I stood with glowing red-hot. It didn't burn. It felt kind of nice.

Only then did I realize I was still thinking like myself.

Carefully, cautiously, I rose to my feet — all four of them — and looked down at myself.

My half-extended wings caught the sun, looking gorgeous.

I'm still me, I thought in wonder. I'm changed, but I'm still me in my own head.

Terry had flown off with an animal's mind. He had lost his humanity.

I wanted to laugh, but it came out as a croaking cry. Harsh and terrible.

The wind picked up through my feathers, ruffling them.

The sky was calling to me and although I was still myself, it still felt wrong to be there on the ground.

Spreading my wings, I faced the wind and leaped into the air, beating on the downstroke.

I flew.