The Familiars: Animal Wizardry. Adam Epstein

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      Their journey took them through hills cloaked in emerald whistlegrass humming an outdoor symphony as the wind blew over the rolling slopes. Aldwyn listened as Kalstaff told Jack how every field had its own song. Each told a different story, some playing triumphant marches in honour of battles fought there long ago, others whispering lullabies for those who had slept soundly under the starlight.

      They left the whistlegrass behind them, and, having veered off the main road, made their way across the Aridifian Plains, an expanse of rock and sand where what little vegetation remained had been singed black. Aldwyn quickly spotted the reason why: volcano ants! These bright red insects had built thousands of anthills, with tunnels that stretched down to the earth’s very core. The magma that spat out from the tiny hills had charred everything green in its path and a traveller had to be extra careful not to set their boots on fire while stepping through these parts.

      Aldwyn thought himself a fairly knowledgeable cat, but he was already realising just how little he knew of the natural wonders that lay outside Bridgetower’s walls.

      The last hour of the trip had been nothing but field after field of half-harvested crops. The barley stalks hung limply, a result of the sudden hail of snow and ice that had fallen on that otherwise warm summer day. During the long walk back home, Kalstaff and Jack had only taken a short rest to shake the sand out of their leather boots. Now, as the sun was setting, they were crossing a tiny stream and heading for an isolated meadow whose name, Stone Runlet, was written on a signpost.

      Stepping out of the runlet’s ankle-deep water, they entered the low-lying field. Up ahead, Aldwyn spotted a small stone cottage on the edge of a wood. Fruit trees, berry trees and oak trees with leaves the size of pie crusts lined the glen. A boy around the age of fourteen with a square jaw and broad shoulders sat under one of the trees reading an oversized book bound in a beautiful leather binding. Above him, a girl, who also appeared to be about fourteen, sat on a thick branch juggling three walnuts. Ringlets of blonde hair were falling over her face.

      “Marianne, Dalton, we’re back!” Jack called out.

      The girl swung down from the tree, making a perfect landing on the ground below. The boy carefully marked his page before closing the book, then stood up. The two walked over to welcome the returning travellers.

      Aldwyn could now see that both the boy and the girl were accompanied by animal companions of their own. A blue jay sat on Dalton’s shoulder, its feathers a deeper shade of blue than the sky itself. Marianne was joined by a red-eyed swamp frog, its bright orange feet clinging to her cloak. Aldwyn couldn’t help but wonder what special powers these two familiars possessed.

      “Let me see,” said Marianne as she ran up to Jack. “What did you get?”

      “A cat. And his eyes are the same colour as mine. He’s still got his claws, too. I bet he could do a lot of damage in a fight.”

      Aldwyn was jolted from his comfortable resting position as Jack, in a burst of excitement, thrust him out for the older kids to see.

      “He’s a little skinny,” said Dalton. “But so are you.”

      “Am not.”

      Dalton ruffled Jack’s hair, then turned to the blue jay. “What do you think, Skylar?” he asked.

      Hold on, thought Aldwyn—did the boy, Dalton, expect a bird to answer his question? How bizarre was that? Aldwyn had always been able to understand humans, but as far as he knew no human had ever understood him.

      Skylar whispered something back into Dalton’s ear, and the boy chuckled to himself.

      “That’s not fair,” said Jack. “What did she say?”

      “That your cat looks like he needs a bath.”

      “Another thing you two have in common,” joked Marianne to Jack.

      “Very funny, sis,” replied Jack, who tucked Aldwyn back under his arm.

      “Come along,” said Kalstaff. “We’ve had a long day. Let’s have some supper and get an early night.”

      Dalton and Marianne turned back to the cottage. Jack sighed, looking disappointed.

      “Already? But I haven’t even shown him how I can levitate stones over the pond with a hover spell. Or taught him how to cast a smoke burst.”

      “There will be plenty of time to show off your skills tomorrow,” said Kalstaff. “But remember, familiars are only meant to use their natural animal talents. Casting human spells is frowned upon. It’s much too dangerous for them.”

      Jack reluctantly put Aldwyn down and sulked off, following Kalstaff and the two older wizards-intraining to the cottage. But Marianne’s frog and Dalton’s blue jay lingered, curious to meet the newest resident of Stone Runlet. The bird carried herself with a certain aloofness, back straight and beak held high. Her feathers were exquisitely unruffled and she wore a jewelled anklet. The frog had big bulging eyes that gave the impression that he was in a constant state of surprise. The suction pads on his toes made wet blurping sounds with every step. As Aldwyn approached them, the blue jay got a closer look at his fur.

      “Are those fleas?” she asked.

      Aldwyn glanced down at the tiny black specks on his white patches.

      “What? No, those are freckles,” he responded.

      “Then why are they moving?” she asked as one of the specks jumped off his fur.

      Aldwyn quickly brushed them away before extending a paw.

      “I’m Aldwyn,” he said, eager to change the topic.

      The blue jay reluctantly put out her wing for a shake.

      “I’m Skylar,” she said. “And this is Gilbert.”

      “But you can call me Gil, or Bert. Gilbert is fine, too,” said the frog eagerly. “Do I have any flies in my teeth?”

      Gilbert opened his mouth for the others to see. Skylar simply rolled her eyes and continued.