The Midnight Circus, стр. 10
Nickwalked along in his low, slow, almost boneless way that made Zena wantto sigh out loud, but she didn’t. Soundless, she strode along by hisside, their shoulders almost—but not quite—touching. The small bit ofair between them crackled with a hot intensity.
Asthey passed through the first set of rays, a dull yellow light bathedtheir faces. Zena felt the first shudder go through her body but sheworked to control it. In front of her, Lazlo’s whole frame seemed toshake.
“Virg,”Nick whispered to her, meaning it was Lazlo’s first time out Wilding.
Zenawas surprised. “True?” she asked.
“He’sfrom O-Hi,” Nick said. Then, almost as an afterthought, added, “Mycousin.”
“O-Hi?”Zena said, smothering both the surprise in her voice and the desire togiggle. Neither would have been coolish. She hadn’t known Nick had anycousins, let alone from O-Hi—the boons, the breads of America. No oneleft O-Hi except as a tourist. And woggers just didn’t look like Lazlo.Nick must have dressed him, must have lent him clothes, must have cuthis hair in its fine duo-bop, one side long to the shoulder, one sideshaved clean. Zena wondered if Marnie knew Lazlo was from O-Hi. Or ifshe cared. Maybe, Zena thought suddenly, maybe I don’t knowMarnie as well as I thought I did.
Theypassed the second set of rays; the light was blood red. She felt thebeginnings of the change. It was not exactly unpleasant, either. Somethingto do, she remembered from the Wilding brochures she had read backwhen she was a kid, with manipulating the basic DNA for a couple ofhours. She’d never really understood that sort of thing. She wassuddenly reminded of the first time she’d come to Wild Wood Central,with a bunch of her girlfriends. Not coolish, of course, just gigglygirls. None of them had stayed past dark and none had been greatlychanged that time. Just a bit of hair, a bit of fang. Only Ginger hadgotten a tail. But then she was the only one who’d hit puberty early;it ran in Ginger’s family. Zena and her friends had all gone screamingthrough the park as fast as theycould, and they’d all been wearing collars. Collars made the transitionback to human easy, needing no effort on their parts, no will.
Zenareached into the pocket of her coat, fingering the leather collarthere. She had plenty of will without it. Plenty of won’t, too! shethought, feeling a bubble of amusement rise inside. Will/won’t.Will/won’t. The sound bumped about in her head.
Whenthey passed the third rays, the deep green ones, which made her greenface powder sparkle and spread in a mask, Zena laughed out loud. Greenrays always seemed to tickle her. Her laugh was high, uncontrolled.Marnie was laughing as well, chittering almost. The green rays took herthat way, too. But the boys both gave deep, dark grunts. Lazlo soundedjust like Nick.
Thebrown rays caught them all in the middle of changing and—too late—Zenathought about the collar again. Marnie was wearing hers, and Lazlo his.When she turned to check on Nick, all she saw was a flash of yellowteeth and yellow eyes. For some reason, that so frightened her, sheskittered collarless through the tunnel ahead of them all and was gone,Wilding.
Thepark was a dark, trembling, mysterious green: a pulsating, moistjungle where leaves large as platters reached out with their bitter,prickly auricles. Monkshood and stag bush, sticklewort and sumac stungZena’s legs as she ran twisting and turning along the pathways, headingtoward the open meadow and the fading light, her new tail curled upover her back.
Shethought she heard her name being called, but when sheturned her head to call back, the only sounds out of her mouth were thepipings and chitterlings of a beast. Still, the collar had been in herpocket, and the clothes, molded into monkey skin, remained close enoughto her to lend her some human memories. Not as strong as if she hadbeen collared, but strong enough.
Sheforced herself to stop running, forced herself back to a kind of calm.She could feel her human instincts fighting with her monkey memories.The monkey self—not predator but prey—screamed, Hide! Run! Hide! Thehuman self reminded her that it was all a game, all in fun. She trottedtoward the meadow, safe in the knowledge that the creepier animalsfavored the moist, dark tunnel-likepassages under the heavy canopy of leaves.
However,by the time she got to the meadow, scampering the last hundred yardson all fours, the daylight was nearly gone. It was, after all, pastseven. Maybe even close to eight. It was difficult to tell time in thepark.
Therewas one slim whitish tree at the edge of the meadow. Birch, herhuman self named it. She climbed it quickly, monkey fingers lending herspeed and agility. Near the top, where the tree got bendy, she stoppedto scan the meadow. It was aboil with creatures, some partly human,some purely beast. Occasionally one would leap high above the longgrass, screeching. It was unclear from the sound whether it was ascream of fear or laughter.
Andthen she stopped thinking human thoughts at all, surrendering entirelyto the Wilding. Smells assaulted her—the sharp tang of leaves, themustier trunk smell, a sweet larva scent. Her long fingers tore at thebark, uncoveringa scramble of beetles. She plucked them up, crammed them into hermouth, tasting the gingery snap of the shells.
Ahowl beneath the tree made her shiver. She stared down into a blackmouth filled with yellow teeth.
“Hunger!Hunger!” howled the mouth.
Shescrambled higher up into the tree, which began to shake dangerously andbend with her weight. Above. a pale, thin moon was rising. She reachedone hand up, tried to pluck the moon as if it were a piece of fruit,using her tail for balance. When her fingers closed on nothing. shechittered unhappily. By her third attempt she was tired of the gameand, seeing no danger lingering at the tree’s base, climbed down.
Themeadow grass was high, and tickled as she ran. Near her, others werescampering. but none reeked of predator and she moved rapidly alongsidethem, all heading in one direction—toward the smell of water.
Thewater was in a murky stream. Reaching it, she bent over