Inhuman

There's been a suddenness to all of this, hasn't there? I could have left two months ago when the Turning arrived, if that were my choice. I could leave now. There's enough magic for it."
    Her restless feet brought her to him. She crouched in front of him, her heart pounding. "Why did you stay?"
    "For you." He set down the uneaten apple core and took her hand, turning it to study her palm, her fingers. "Of course, for you. Though I didn't understand how deep you'd gone inside me, not until last night. I knew I wanted more time with you. But also for me." He rubbed her palm gently with his thumb. Slowly he looked up, meeting her eyes. "I'm not a hound anymore, not precisely. I've spent too many years in a man's body, with a man's brain. That I could hesitate at all to return to her taught me how much I've changed. But the queen…"
    The trouble in his voice had her turning her hand in his to clasp it. "Yes?"
    "I missed my hound's body, missed it badly, at first. I would miss my hands and my speech even more now. And you." He squeezed her hand. "I would miss you terribly if I had to leave."
    "Would the Huntsman make you go back?"
    "Well, he can't, which is why I'd call him and not my queen. He could kill me, of course, but—"
    "Then, no." Her hand clenched hard on his. "Don't call."
    "Wait, wait. I didn't mean he
would
kill me. It's a hunter's way of seeing things, that's all—that he could kill me but can't compel me. He'll come, he'll be curious, he either will or won't do what I ask." He shrugged. "And he'll tell her, tell my queen, about my call at some point, when it occurs to him to do so. But she… she'd have known when the realms shifted that I could return. Since I haven't…" He shrugged, looking away.
    He hurt. She settled herself beside him, careful of his arm. It looked whole beneath the bloody rags of his sleeve, and she knew he healed fast. But she'd seen bone earlier. Surely it wasn't completely healed.
    She put her hand on his thigh. "You feel torn in your loyalties."
    "If she calls me to her, I'll go," he said quietly. "That hasn't changed, but… eh, there's no way to wrap this up in words." He sighed and, oblivious to her worry about his wound, put his arm around her. "It may be I've a choice ahead of me I don't know how to make, but there's no saying when that one will arrive. Calling the Huntsman might hasten it. Or it might not. Your choice is already here, Kai."
    I can't let her die
. That much was clear, a truth Kai couldn't duck. But she wanted another solution, one that saved the chameleon but didn't draw the attention of Nathan's queen.
    One that didn't carry so high a cost, she admitted.
    In the corner, the chameleon-cat slept, her mottled coat blending her into the shadows. She'd been beautiful and terrifying in action—built more like a leopard than a lion, only shaggy. She had a lynx's oversize ears and feet, an oddly shaped muzzle, and quiet colors.
    Quiet now. During the fight they'd flared in a rage of orange and red, but asleep, her colors softened to a dappled brown, like sun-freckled earth. Her thought-shapes drowsed along in the colors… not forming the intricate patterns of human thought, but neither were they beast-simple.
    You are so beautiful
, she thought.
But what do you want? Who are you
?
    The great head lifted, the eyes blinking open. Golden eyes. Even in the shadows, Kai could see they were a brassy gold, like old coins. The thought-shapes stilled, then seemed to struggle. Kai
felt
the struggle as the chameleon tried to answer—felt the creature's need, deep and vital, to be understood. She needed for Kai to know—to know—
    "Dell," Kai said, her voice thick with tears. "Her name is Dell, and she trusts me. Call him, Nathan. Call the Huntsman."

----
Chapter 13

    THE wind is never gone long in West Texas. Thirty minutes later, Nathan stood beneath a cloud-hung sky in scrubby dirt that might have once been a yard with that wind tugging at his clothes and hair. Kai was beside him; he doubted she could see at all, for even his vision had trouble picking out details in the darkness.
    The chameleon—Dell—had followed, and sat on her haunches on Kai's other side, sniffing the air, unafraid. But she was a night creature, wasn't she? Like him.
    His mind was sharp with disbelief. Could his long exile be about to end?
Not yet
, he told himself, which was true, since the Huntsman was unlikely to bring his sister along.
    Yet it felt false. Memories crowded him hard,