Divine Comedy (32)

Jane

Morning at the Mongolian steppe came as dewdrops beaded on every blade of grass, giving the golden fields a wet, glimmering sheen. Ganbold emerged from the ger and cantered into the grass in his horse form, his hooves scattering the dewdrops.

Seth followed behind with an evident grogginess in his gait. In anticipation of frequent shifting, he had kept the cloth Tsermaa had given him tied at the waist, exposing his chest and belly. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he stumbled over the wooden doorframe. I bit back a smile and averted my gaze to pretend I hadn't noticed.

Leah was last to exit the ger, also wrapped in cloth from Tsermaa, and Alec walked over to meet up with her. My brother and I had changed out of our Western clothes and into borrowed deels—the traditional Mongolian wool coats bound with a large sash at the waist. Unlike the thin, loose, and simple keikogi from Japan, these coats were thick, snug, and checkered with ornate circles. Alec's deel was burnt red, while mine was aegean blue. To top off their generosity, Tsermaa and Ganbold also lent us horn-tipped riding boots. Somehow, despite the two of them being quite robust and tall, they had a pair small enough for my feet.

Tsermaa strode up and mounted Ganbold with seemingly no effort at all. "Let's get started," she said, "but before that, I need to know where we're starting." She surveyed the four of us with a cool, slow sweep of her eyes. "What are your experiences with riding? Have you any at all?"

The four of us shared a glance, then Seth spoke up. "Putting it simply, we're total rookies."

Apparently yesterday was the first time Leah had anyone on her back. Seth's first time was the night we had fought Kurojaki. As for me and Alec, even during our human lives we had never ridden any animal before. Not on our own, anyway. I remembered our father letting us ride on his warhorse sometimes, when we were very small. He'd fit me or Alec into the saddle in front of him, with one hand on the reins and the other around us, so we wouldn't fall. I remembered how my knuckles had went white from clinging onto the horn of that saddle, how dizzy I had gotten from how terribly high it had felt.

Tsermaa pursed her lips. "If that's the case, we'll have to start with the very basics. Seth and Leah, change into wolves. Jane and Alec, mount them."

I couldn't help feeling nervous as the four of us obliged, then she said, "Don't do anything yet. Just watch carefully."

She dug her heels into Ganbold's flanks, setting him off in a brisk trot. She had spent all night erecting wooden posts throughout the field ahead. The posts stood like the bare bones of a forest, like trees that'd been stripped and cut down for lumber. Ganbold wove back and forth past some posts, and circled a few times around others. Tsermaa had her grip on both swords all the while. She also didn't say a word. No hands, no reins, no verbal commands...in other words, no obvious indication that Tsermaa was steering Ganbold in a complex pattern around those posts. Still, she and her husband moved as one, making smooth turns with unified intent. Seth and Leah observed with ears cocked and necks craned forward.

Several hundred feet away, where the last post was erected, Tsermaa and Ganbold wheeled around it to head back to us with astonishing speed. Ganbold made sharp turns that would've sent the average rider flying. When he wove between the posts, he kicked up dust as he tossed his front legs back and forth. Somehow, through all that, Tsermaa kept her perch without falling. Seth took a step back and couldn't help letting out a small puff of breath in awe. This took me back to the town market by Iya Valley, to Goro chopping up fish faster than my eyes could track.

Tsermaa and Ganbold slowed to a stop before us. She stowed away her blades to the scabbards strapped to her back. At the awe on our faces, she cracked a smirk. "You must've thought I'd be rolling in the dirt by now. Anyway, what did you notice about the way I was riding?"

Alec ventured a response. "Ganbold isn't wearing reins, and you have swords in both hands, so you must be using your legs and feet to guide him."

"Close, but not quite. True, much of it is down here." Tsermaa tapped the hilt of her sword on her thigh. "But in truth, the whole body is involved."

"Now that you mention it," I said, "you also angle yourself side to side, or backward and forward, to keep your balance and to tell Ganbold when to start and stop."

"Yes, exactly. Riding is a lot more than just sitting on an animal's back and not doing much else. Have control of your body, and you have control of the way you want to go. That will be your first lesson."

Ganbold turned to show us his side, and from that view Tsermaa walked us through her postures and small, telling movements of her hips, legs, and ankles—subtleties of the rider's unspoken language. "Don't forget about pressure," she added. "Apply it at the right spots, at the right times. That's something I can't show you, but something you'll have to feel for and get acquainted with yourself." She gestured to the posts. "Jane and Alec, your goal is to guide Seth and Leah in a round trip through these, in whatever way you want. Seth and Leah, listen to what the twins will tell you."

Ganbold stepped away from us, taking Tsermaa with him.

"I think we should take turns," Alec said, "so we don't run into each other."

"Good idea," I replied. Seth and Leah grunted in agreement. God forbid we'd make that painful, embarrassing mistake.

Several horses broke away from the herd to gather near us. I volunteered to go first, and I could feel the horses' dark, curious gazes boring into my back. I tried to shake it off and focus. With a gentle dig of my heels into his flanks, Seth was spurred forward.

We started off slowly. It'd been challenging enough to ride on Seth while gripping his fur. Switching the grip to my drawn sword, and with only my legs keeping me on his back, was downright terrifying. If I was human, my heart would be a battering ram against my chest. We were just trotting over grass, not even at full gallop, not even at the first post yet.

"Get it together," I muttered to myself.

Seth must've heard me. He flashed a glance over his shoulder and made a sort of crooning sound between closed lips—his attempt to reassure me in his wolf form. I steeled myself with a sharp intake of breath.

Forward and turn right, I said, though not through my voice. I told Seth through the slight bent of my torso, and through the pressure from my legs. Seth went around the first post as I had intended. That sent a spark of confidence through me.

Forward and turn right, I said again, when we approached the second post. For a split second, Seth twitched in the other direction. Panic fluttered up from my gut. I tightened my legs over his sides, thrusting out my hand and sword to keep balance. I swayed but kept upright. A second later, he did as I had told him. It was clear he had thought I'd want to go left, to weave back and forth like a snake through the posts just as Tsermaa and Ganbold had.

"Move together, not against each other," Tsermaa called from behind us. "You're riding, not playing tug-of-war."

Seth had to toss aside his own assumptions. Instead he had to really sense my tactile cues and trust me to make the directions. We did better the more we wandered our way through, making wide figure eights and curling S's. I felt more confident by the last post, confident enough to spur a bit more speed into Seth on our way back.

Tsermaa nodded at us with approval. "Not bad. Looks like you're getting the hang of it."

Alec and Leah were next. With two arms, my brother seemed to have an easier time keeping his balance than I did. I couldn't help envying him for that. Then, once around the last post, Leah broke into a loping run. Knowing her, she must've been itching for the wind in her fur. Halfway through, the sharp bank she made around a post was enough for Alec to slide off her back. He struck his chest against a nearby post in his downward tumble, hard enough to knock it over. Leah slid to a dusty halt, her eyes narrowed and ears pulled back in apparent embarrassment.

Alec pulled himself up to his feet. "I'm all right." He looked embarrassed too, as he looked down at the fallen post. Leah kept her neck craned low and softly growled at him, perhaps out of apology. He smoothed back the fur between her ears in reply. He mounted her again and they completed the exercise at a much slower pace, without further incident.

"Keep working on the maneuvers, all of you," Tsermaa said. "You're probably wondering why I didn't make you charge straight down the field first thing. Seems like the most straightforward thing to do, right? Well, first thing I need you to learn are the finer movements of twisting and turning. You need to learn control and communication. Those skills are imperative in riding. A straight run can't give you that opportunity."

"That makes sense," Alec remarked.

"Why can't I just tell Seth where I want to go and what I want to do?" I asked. "Wouldn't that be easier?"

Tsermaa quirked her dark eyebrows. "Easier, maybe, but that wouldn't be the smartest idea in a fight. You don't want your foe to know your moves."

"You have a point there," I admitted.

"What we're doing here is more than the average horseback riding. Keep in mind that the steed in all our cases is a human being as well, capable of complex thinking and free will." She fondly stroked Ganbold's long red neck. "Because of that, communication must go both ways. The first lesson covered what I call rider-led riding. Next we will go over steed-led riding."

Tsermaa, working together with Ganbold's demonstrative body language, showed us the various signals made from his end: ears tipped forward meant "straight ahead," ears pulled back meant "stop," angling the head to some direction involved a turn, and so on.

Seth and Leah could perform those same gestures, so they practically adopted Ganbold's way of speaking.

Tsermaa leaned toward Ganbold's rear to have him step back from us again. "The tables have turned now. This time Seth and Leah get all the say in where you go. Jane and Alec, listen to them carefully."

By listening, she meant keeping a careful eye and ear out for cues. I studied Seth's neck and head with tunnel vision intensity. If I got distracted and looked up, I'd miss his cues. Focusing on his wolflike features, the subtle twitches of his ears and the ripple of his neck, made me appreciate this side of him. In this form, he was a beautiful, majestic animal. Before, I used to either dismiss wolves of any kind as stinking beasts, or fear them for their ferocity. Now I could take comfort in Seth's warmth, his power, and how good it felt to have him by my side.

In our attempts to understand each other, we could grow even closer and fight better together.

The four of us were far from done with the wooden posts. Tsermaa had us run through them again and again for hours, alternating between rider-led riding and steed-led riding, one pair at a time, then two at once, going faster, faster, faster.

Then, to break the monotony of the runs, Tsermaa introduced us to another exercise. The first stunt she and Ganbold had in mind for us involved retrieving a fallen weapon from horseback. Or wolfback, in my case. Seth and I watched in stunned silence as Tsermaa leaned well over Ganbold's side, hanging off like a strange, human-sized tumor, and thrust out her arm to snatch her sword off the ground.

"This is a vital move you need to learn," Tsermaa called out to us. "You'll have your sword flying out of your hand at some point, and this is the quickest, cleanest way to retrieve it."

I leaned in to whisper into Seth's ear: "You saw how Ganbold leaned the other way as counterbalance? That's what we have to do. I lean one way, you lean the opposite way."

He nodded to show that he understood.

Much easier said than done. I kept falling off my back to tumble into the dust. Either I couldn't lean down far enough, or couldn't return to sitting position when I did pick up the sword. Sometimes I'd even miss the hilt and grab for the blade instead. In those mishaps, I'd snatch back my hand, hissing with pain from the jinrō parts that burned me. After many failed attempts and tumbles, all sorts of colorful words in various languages began to stream out of my mouth.

Alec's attempts to pull off the stunt went better, but that apparently didn't make me feel any better. While Alec grabbed his sword in one hand, he could use the other to hold onto Leah's fur and keep from falling off. It was obvious that having two arms made things easier.

After yet another tumble into the dirt, I sat up but couldn't bring myself to stand and jump back on Seth. He whirled around and bounded up to me, his eyes filled with concern and guilt.

"It's not your fault, it's mine," I muttered. I brought down my left fist into the ground. "If only I didn't have just this one arm."

He whined and lowered his head to nuzzle my cheek. My face was dry, but I'd be crying tears of frustration if I could. My shoulders heaved from mixed exertion and quiet sobbing. I uncurled my fist into a gentle hand stroking Seth's snout.

Tsermaa dismounted from Ganbold and approached us, frowning. "Having one arm makes things more difficult than I had expected. You have no way of uprighting yourself once you grab the sword. Perhaps we should move on to different exercises..."

"No, I'll find a way." I schooled my features into thin-lipped resolution before climbing back on Seth. "I need to think about this from another angle. I've been thinking like someone who's used to having both arms. I need to start thinking like a one-armed person."

Tsermaa nodded in approval. "I like your attitude. A good warrior needs to adapt and improvise when the situation calls for it. Keep at it, then." She turned away to check on Leah and Alec's progress nearby.

I silently weighed Kurojaki in my hand, angling it in different directions, flipping it between forward and reverse grips. Seth looked over his shoulder and uttered a short, curious yip.

"All right, let's try this," I said, and angled the sword parallel to the ground before dropping it.

I dug my heels into Seth's flanks, sending him running ahead and back in a small loop. Previous attempts had improved my ability to gauge the right time and distance. About five feet away, about two seconds away, I leaned over and reached out for the hilt. I neatly plucked Kurojaki from the ground. In the next quarter of a second, I flipped it to reverse grip and plunged the tip of Kurojaki into the ground just a foot in front of me. I used the sword as a lever to prop myself upward. I heaved the upper half of my body from leaning over to return upright on Seth.

"Yes," I cried. I flipped Kurojaki back to forward grip and thrust the tip skyward.

Seth howled, sharing my delight. Several meters from us, Leah, Alec, Tsermaa, and Ganbold had watched with impressed looks openly written on their faces.

"Very good," Tsermaa called. "You found your way to adapt, Jane."

"That was amazing," Alec agreed.

I couldn't keep from grinning ear-to-ear, and after stowing away Kurojaki, I ruffled the fur on Seth's neck. Tsermaa had us do the post running drills once more. By noon, Seth and Leah had paved trails through the posts with the drum of their paws, and their coats steamed under the sun. We took a break only so the wolves could have lunch.

Seth and Leah, shifting back into humans, flopped into the ger with cloth wrapped over their sweating, heaving bodies.

"Whew, what a workout," Seth exclaimed. "I'm kinda dizzy from running around those posts so much."

Leah said nothing as she dug into the dumplings and mutton offered by Ganbold. Soon he joined her in clearing the food off the table.

Tsermaa pulled out a horsehead fiddle and its bow. "Care for some music?"

"Yes, please," Seth said behind a hand, around half-eaten food. "Drown out the sound of our chewing."

She obliged, drawing out plaintive notes from the fiddle. Then Ganbold joined in with an instrument of his own: his voice. What came out of his pursed lips was whistling and reedy, then deep and gravelly—sounds I thought were beyond humanely possible. It was as if he released the wind he had somehow captured and kept in his body. A shiver ran down my spine—not the kind from sensing a Child of the Moon, but the kind from beholding incredible music. I was absolutely enthralled. So were the other three.

When Tsermaa and Ganbold fell silent, Leah finally said, "Holy crap."

"How are you doing that?" I demanded.

Seth laughed. "Jane's a singer, too. I just knew she'd be mindblown by you, Ganbold."

The man smiled. "It's called khoomei: Mongolian throat singing."

"I've heard of throat singing," I said, "as in I've known it exists. I've just never heard it for myself until now."

"That was great playing," Alec said to Tsermaa.

She chuckled as she set aside the fiddle. "No need to pay me any compliments. My husband is the real star of the show. I'm just the accompaniment."

"What can you sing, Jane?" Ganbold asked.

Before his remarkable talent, his grasp of the apparent impossible, my ego withered like a dying flower before him. "I'm merely self-taught. I'm most familiar with opera, but don't know much beyond that."

"I'd be happy to expand your repertoire, if you'd like."

I leaned forward over the table, gripping the edge of it. "I know we're already asking much of you and Tsermaa, but I would be honored to learn your secrets."

Ganbold grinned widely at that. "I don't mind at all. It's always a joy to pass on an art that's little-known and not practiced by many. Whenever we have breaks like this, then I can teach you."

"I think it would actually be very good for you," Tsermaa said. "Necessary, even."

I tilted my head at her. "What do you mean by that?"

"You'll see what I mean later." She rose to throw back the tent flap. "If we're done with lunch, it's time for a race."

Seth

"A race?" I echoed.

Tsermaa leaned outside the flap, and her smile was as radiant as the noon sunlight on her face. "We will definitely have one. Enkh is coming, and he'll demand it."

"Who's Enkh?" Alec asked.

When all of us exited the ger, we found out soon enough. In the far-flung distance, at the opposite direction of the grazing herd, a horse came running up with a Mongol boy on its back. The kid bounced comfortably, even happily, through the gallop. As for the horse, it looked much like Ganbold—rusty red coat, black mane, massive build—though one eye was missing, as if it'd been scooped out of its skull. When it slowed to a trot, the boy slid off and into Ganbold's arms. There came a spout of happy-sounding Mongolian spoken among Tsermaa, Ganbold, and the boy.

Finally Tsermaa turned to address us in Russian. "This is Enkh, our son."

"Your son?" I blurted out. "Like, by blood?"

Jane translated for me, echoing my surprised tone, and Tsermaa nodded. "Through and through," she replied, and gestured to Jane's feet. "You're wearing his extra pair of boots."

I could see that. Enkh looked no older than ten, yet he was already taller than her. I stared at him with awe I couldn't contain. That kid could very well be the first vampire-shapeshifter hybrid in the world. I didn't think even Jane and Alec had ever seen anyone like him before.

"He's fluent only in Mongolian, but he's learning Russian fast," Ganbold said. "He wants to learn English too, so he'd be thrilled to practice with you four."

"Nice to meet you," Enkh said in English to each of us, four times, like he enjoyed playing around with the unfamiliar words in his mouth. Then he pointed down at the boots Jane was wearing. "They are yours now."

His toothy grin was infectious, so that even straight-faced Jane wasn't safe from it. "Thank you," she told him.

"And this is Usuh, my older brother," Ganbold said with a hearty pat on the horse's neck. "He's a great uncle, always looking out for Enkh."

Usuh tipped his long head to acknowledge us, though I could tell by the coolness in his single eye that he was more distant than his warmer brother.

"Your uncle must be tired from his trip into town," Tsermaa told her son. "Don't bother him anymore. Go put away the books you bought and race with your father instead."

Enkh obliged, dashing in and out of the ger to drop off his large backpack. As long as he would have his race, the kid was happy, I guessed. I had so many questions about him, like how he had actually come about in the first place, but that would have to wait.

Word of a race spread like wildfire among the herd of horses. It stirred them into an excited frenzy. Some of them phased back into people so they could race as riders. Soon the field was filled with chatter from men, women, and children of all sizes and ages. Those who stayed as horses had their forelocks tied into topknots. Some even had decorative cloth draped over them. Races must be a big deal in these parts.

Tsermaa ushered us to join the herd. "Come on, you four are racing, too. Enkh will be sad if you don't."

Jane frowned. "But we need to keep training."

The Mongolian vampire cracked a knowing smile. "Ah, I could hear Goro talking. I'm sure he pounded the idea of constant hard work into you and your brother's heads. Well, try to let it go just this once. Loosen up. Have fun."

At the mention of "fun," Jane balked. "We don't have time for games," she said indignantly. "The kresnik is still out there and our kind could very well be on the verge of extinction. We can't just—"

"You will take part in this race, or there will be no more training."

At Tsermaa's firm response, Jane shut her mouth. I led her away, trying to rub the sullen aura off her with strokes up and down her back.

"Come on, babe, I'm sure there's a good reason for this," I murmured into her ear. "I don't think she's trying to waste our time."

What I said calmed Jane down a bit, but her golden glare could still burn a hole into the horses' coats, like sunlight under a magnifying glass. "I hope you're right," she muttered.

Leah and I phased into our wolf forms and lined up with the horses, who were standing next to the doorframe of the ger.

Tsermaa paced up and down our makeshift line. "For the newcomers, I'll explain the rules." She pointed to the makeshift line we made next to the ger. "Here's where you start and finish." Then she pointed to the hazy hills in the distance, some fifty miles away. "Run there and back. The first one back has bragging rights as the fastest in the herd. No biting, kicking, pulling riders off, or any intentional injuries to sabotage fellow racers. That's it."

The horses dipped their long necks up and down and pawed at the ground. Their excitement got to me. I started to shift my weight and dig my claws into the dirt. I was itching for a full-on sprint. I could just feel Leah's competitive streak flare up like a volcano. She fixed her eyes on the hills, ready to prove her mettle.

Tsermaa leaned in toward the four of us. "One last thing: don't forget to have fun. You don't have to come in first for that." She drew back to let Usuh take over as the flag waver.

At the drop of the flag, we took off. We wolves were swift on our feet, faster than vampires on average. But these horses were something else. They ran like they had wings at their hooves. Ganbold, with Enkh on his back, quickly took the lead. Leah took off in hot pursuit, striving to catch up.

I was tempted to run at full speed, but I didn't want to throw off Jane. As far as I could see, she was the only one-armed rider. She had to put in more effort than most to stay on my back. The herd began to break off into groups the longer we ran. Ganbold and Leah stayed within the leading group, the fastest group, while my pace brought me steadily within the slowest group. I was surrounded by the oldest and youngest horses in the herd—ones either too up there in age and have seen better days of running, or ones who were still getting used to the stamina demanded in a race.

As I kept my sights ahead, I couldn't see Jane's face, but I could hear the irritation thick in her voice as she said over the wind, "Could you pick up the pace, Seth? Let's get this over with."

Reluctantly I pumped my legs faster and drummed my paws harder on the ground. It was obvious that Jane wasn't having fun. Her legs over my ribs were like cold, hard clamps. She was a ball of misery on my back. Meanwhile the horses and riders around us, even as the last ones lagging behind, were having the time of their lives. The horses tossed back their heads as the wind tugged at their manes. Riders whooped and grinned ear-to-ear, bouncing up and down on horseback like enjoying their own personal trampolines. Their joy was infectious. I let out a howl, and the horses joined me with whinnies.

Running here, in Mongolia, was like being on another plane of existence. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, used to the sight of treetops when I looked up, I had never seen so much clear sky in my life. That beautiful, unbroken stretch of blue was like the sea turned up on its head. I wanted to run under it forever, if I could.

Until now, whenever I saw horses racing, they were always racing in a closed, looped track. Here, there were no fences or a loop. Just miles and miles of short windswept grass, with no paved roads in sight, and only mountains in the hazy distance. This was the very picture of freedom.

I felt weightless, like I could take off from my own body with wings instead of paws. I wished that Jane could feel that way, too. "Don't worry about winning or losing, or taking the lead or falling behind," I wanted to tell her. "Just think about all that sky and grass, how good it feels in between them."

Too bad that wolf vocal cords weren't built for human speech. If I couldn't talk to Jane, then I would have to show her what I meant. Remembering my training, I cocked my ears forward against the wind, to tell Jane that I'd go faster. Then I surged forward, full speed ahead, so that the dips and crests of my lope deepened the harder I ran. I tried to take her back to the time we went to Sol Park, back when I showed her how to have fun. I tried to recreate the roller coaster ride the best I could with my wolf body. I let out long howls to the cloudless sky, like how I had whooped on the ride.

But Jane wasn't getting the message. Her legs tightened over my sides even more, and she hunched low over my back, thinking that I was trying to catch up to my sister. Leah was already miles ahead anyway. We didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with closing the gap. Jane should loosen up, not tense up. I had no way of telling her that, though.

That took some of the fun out of the race. My lowered spirits and frustration persisted through the rest of the run. I would have returned to the finish line on sore paws and a hanging head if there hadn't been hoots and cheers of encouragement from riders who already finished.

Leah was among them, in her human form. She cupped hands around her mouth as she called out, "C'mon Seth, Jane, last stretch! You can do it!" Beside her, Alec clapped his hands for nonverbal support.

We weren't dead last; a few horses and riders from the slowest group also straggled behind. Encouragement was called out for them, too. I reached deep into a well inside me, and pulled up a small burst of energy that carried my tired body to the finish line.

I slowed to a halt, trembling from head to tail, my coat steaming under the sun. Jane finally let up on the tightened tension to slide off my back. I looked over my shoulder to see her lips narrowed to a thin line as she retied her ponytail, to pull all the stray strands of hair back in place. It wasn't easy with one hand.

Leah came up to me with my cloth, and I phased back on two legs to tie the cloth around my waist. "Good race," I managed between my pants. "You were so fast, Leah."

"I had never run so much before in my life." My sister had the biggest grin on her face, the biggest I had ever seen on her. She definitely had fun.

Alec came up to Jane and helped her tie back her hair. "Good race," he said, agreeing with me, but his twin sister didn't mellow out as she kept her eyes narrowed.

"No need to be nice," she said. "Seth and I were almost last. It was a good race for you, wasn't it, Alec? You must have come in first place, didn't you?"

At that, he ducked his gaze to his feet and admitted, "Leah and I came in second."

"Well, you two must've had a ball." Jane's voice was as cold as her skin.

Finally in my human form, I let out everything I'd been trying to tell her the whole run, like a shaken soda can being cracked open. "Don't take it out on Alec and Leah. It doesn't matter whether we came in first or last. That's not the point of the race. Tsermaa told us to just have fun. That's a lot easier to do than trying to get first place."

She glared at me. "Easy for you to say, when you're not the one trying to fall off the back of an animal with no saddle and reins."

"That's why I tried not to run too fast."

"Then what was the deal with all that silly howling and bucking around?"

I threw up my hands. "You know what? Forget it. You didn't get it then, and you wouldn't get it now even if I told you. Tsermaa straight up told us to have fun and you couldn't do even that. You couldn't follow the most simple instructions. Why did I think you'd get what I was trying to tell you?" I regretted everything that just flew out of my mouth. I basically said she was stupid. I was the stupid one for even suggesting that.

Jane said nothing. No sharp, barbed retort or anything. She always seemed to have one of those ready, like an arrow from an invisible quiver she carried around. This time the quiver was empty. She only looked at me like I had slapped her in the face, with this drawn in, hurt look that made me want to take back everything I said. But that was like trying to use an eraser on words you didn't write down. It was impossible.

Jane spun on her heel and stalked away before I could apologize.