[quote]She pushed aside two books and tossed Nina into the gap. Then, she clambered in, whispering the words of the rhyme like a prayer. When she finished, she grabbed one of Nina's paws, hoping despite everything that the spell would work.[/quote]

[indent][i][indent]Magic of the breathing seas
Singing of the wind
Shroud me in your majesty
Create in me your kin
Give me shape that's whole and new
Give me shape that sings
Give me shape that pleases you
That fools the teeth and kings[/indent][/i][/indent]

The horror lifted its dripping head, its tentacles poised in the middle of replacing a book on a shelf along the wall. A loud snuffling, sniffing noise filled the room -- and then the book dropped to the floor.

It had heard something. It had smelled something. With clammy slapping feet and a low gurgling huff, the horror squinted six-eyed into the empty aisles between the bookcases. Searching. Sniffing.

It moved into the aisle where Riley was hiding, its jowls flapping while it swung its head back and forth, peering at the shelves.

Meanwhile, Riley would find herself, in an instant, covered in fur and standing on all fours. She could smell [i]everything[/i] now: the pungent odors of the horror, the must of the books, the mold on the walls, the food downstairs, a faint fragrance of roses. Her eyesight, though, was now terrible.

Nina yelped quietly to see her mirror image; she scooted back against the books, wide-eyed as she stared at her twin.

The noise had been just enough to attract the horror's attention.

A great yellow eye appeared level with their hiding-shelf, staring directly at the two furry white intruders. Nina immediately made a run for it, darting around a snapping tentacle, tumbling to the floor.

The horror hissed, showing long rows of teeth.

[hr][quote]He looked at the huge fox again and swallowed dryly before nodding. He shuffled over so he could grab onto the fox's fur and climb onto her back.

"Th-Thanks."[/quote]

"No thanks necess'ry, child, jus' doin' what I'm here to do." The fox waited until Arthur had situated himself securely on her back before she dropped from the stone and snapped open leathery wings. With a flap they were soaring up and up, circling around the tower while salty wind pushed back Arthur's hair.

"Visitors don't usually come up this way, y'know," the fox called over the wind. Far below, the cruise ship was letting off its final passengers. "Too fat to try the climb, I'd wager. Ha! You'll be the first in a long while."

Finally the fox floated over the lip of the tower and landed neatly in a small field of cut grass. She walked forward, away from the edge, on her feet and her wings, and stopped to let him step down.

The top of the tower was rocky and full of grasses and weeds. The wind whistled and howled, and the sun shone brightly on the waving green grass and jutting stones.

To Arthur's right was an old stone windmill, spinning rapidly, strung up with strings of little brightly colored flags that flapped in the wind. The windmill towered high above, and if he listened carefully he might hear the squeak and grind of machinery inside.

Attached to the windmill was a little stone house with a thatch roof and a cozy porch, presumably where the windmill-keeper lived. On the porch was a bench swing, a rocking chair, and a rather rusty looking robot. The robot was sitting on the porch floor with its legs stretched out and head drooped to its chest. There was a big turnkey in its back. It was about as big as Arthur himself.

There was only one window on the house, but it was fastened and the curtains were shut inside. The door was closed, but unlocked.

In the distance, a great mountainous floating cluster of pink crystals dominated the sky, glimmering in the sunlight.

And beside the little stone house was an open elevator: a little room like the one he had arrived in.

"Dooa will be pleased to have a visitor!" the fox piped, and she crawled along the grass toward the empty-looking house. "Dooa, Dooa! A visitor! C'mon, come out!"

But there was no answer.