Blueberry Muffins

Part 1: Ope!

I.

It was an unusually cold night just outside the village of Dinsmoor.

Rain was on the way. Alfred could sense the tension brewing in the thick, heavy clouds that hung over the forest and obscured the rising moon. How he knew the rain was coming and the moon was rising, he had no idea. It was like he could smell nature at work. The air was full of a rich, earthy scent that filled his body with energy and made his long ears twitch in the wind. He swung his legs on his stump and hummed a little tune about autumn and how much joy it brought him to see the leaves fall and feel the rain come down cold on his skin.

Then he remembered.

He bent himself back over the stump and marveled at the rough feeling of bark on his back. Bony hands traced over a sunken, papery chest and the ridges of ribs so severe he could fit his fingers in the dips. Everywhere, his skin was grayish-white like a winter morning's fog. His hair was the color of fresh snow, and the claws he had for fingernails were all silvery. He knew he had a few freckles as well — tiny, sparkling spots of periwinkle upon the hollow features of his face. And on the bridge of his nose was that star-shaped birthmark, a blemish which was so perfect as to be alien, even to its owner.

Knifelike ears twitched again. The rain was growing nearer. Shivering, Alfred sat back up and clutched his shoulders. He felt like an alien. In the past hour, he'd seen and heard and touched the world with a fantastic new sensitivity. Every color was vibrant and shining. Every noise was amplified and fine-tuned to fit its own unique timbre. Nature spoke a language, and he was meant to understand it.

This shape was, anyway. Not the shape he'd worn for so many years and lost less than an hour ago — the one which was strong and healthy and full. He placed his hands on his stomach and whimpered at how empty it felt. All this power, this magic inside him, and his body was cursed to be shriveled and ugly in return. Changing into a beautiful being had only made him forget for so long.

An ear twitched. Hoofsteps were quickly approaching. Alfred raised his head and took in the sight of his twin brother trotting toward him. No, his brother by heart. His adoptive brother. Matthew the Homoalces. On four furry muscular legs he trotted forth, humanlike torso covered partially by a bearskin vest and neck wrapped up in a knitted scarf. No great paddles graced his head yet, but by sheer size alone, he was as intimidating as his father, the biggest bull in the village. At least, he appeared that way to Alfred, now that Alfred was so small.

Matthew stopped twenty feet from the stump where Alfred sat and took in the scene. He tucked his hair behind furred ears and chewed on his lip in the way Alfred had learned by mimicking. Alfred scooched back a bit. It was uncomfortable on his own learning what he truly looked like again. This shape was just as odd as the others took it to be. Last night, he'd nestled down in the straw beside his brother and gazed up at the stars through the ceiling window of the longhouse. Tonight, the traders held a hunk of iron to the back of his neck and pressed until the skin was molten and his body was betraying him.

"Is it true?" Matthew asked in that small voice. "Did you take my shape all those years ago because you wanted to replace me?"

"Um, no, it's not exactly like that—"

"You didn't want to be my twin, did you. You wanted to be me. You just couldn't copy me all the way, so you fooled all of us into thinking you were some orphan who looked like me. You're a magic parasite. That's what those traders said before they exposed you."

"Don't say that, Mattie, please. I'm not a parasite. I never wanted to live your life. I just wanted a family. I was starving, and I saw you, and I transformed, and before I knew it, I was living as your brother. I didn't know about any 'swapping' or 'changeling' nonsense. I… I barely know what a 'changeling' is!"

"But you are a changeling! They said your people are responsible for thousands of missing children back where they're from! You're the embodiment of mischief and mayhem! The child of doom itself!"

"You think I'm not shocked to learn something like that about myself?"

"Don't act like you didn't know about this the whole time I've known you."

"Well, yeah, I have magical powers, and I never had a mama who was attacked by a bear. I never had any mama, or a papa. I think I just… grew out of the ground or something."

"You lied. You lied to the elders, you lied to the tribe, and you lied to me."

"I was gonna tell you. I was definitely gonna tell you before they made us elders."

"Would you have waited that long?"

"I was gonna tell you when the right time came. I'm harmless. I never wanted to be you. I grew up with you. I'm the same Alfred I was an hour ago. Appearances don't matter, right? I don't know anything about being a changeling or a bad fairy or whatever I am. I'm a Homoalces. Big teeth and hooves."

He knew the argument was useless. Matthew's lilac eyes were wide with upset. His timid nature fled, and the being which once held it grew beastly. The muscles tensed. The neck arched forward. The hooves scraped into the earth, and the voice came out as a deafening bellow. Matthew charged from where he stood, and Alfred had no time to dodge before his brother's skull collided with his chest. His featherweight body flew backwards into the dirt and rolled several feet before the hooves jabbed into his sides from all angles.

"Yes, appearances do matter! You don't just change your look and become whatever you're trying to look like! A Homoalces lives by honor and honesty! A Homoalces treats his brothers as equals! A Homoalces earns his strength! Someone like you is not a Homoalces and never will be!"

"Mattie, stop this. Please. I'm sorry. I was scared."

Matthew kicked him once more in the chest for good measure. "You didn't have to be scared of me," he sobbed. "But now… I'm so sorry, Al. Just go. Get out of here. Get out of Dinsmoor."

"Has the Council decided what to do with me?"

"They're going to banish you no matter what, so just leave. No one wants you here. Not if you keep secrets as big as this one."

"I don't have any other secrets—"

"Go."

Matthew had turned his back and was cantering back toward the village. The last Alfred saw of him was his stubby tail wiggling furiously behind.

The changeling, for that's what he was, picked himself up and winced at all the sharp new aches along his ribs. Matthew never knew his own strength sometimes, especially now when his opponent couldn't possibly fight back. Alfred was already bruised black where the hooves hit, and oozing from one of the marks was a dark, sticky substance he didn't recognize at first. It wasn't quite black, but a deep purplish-blue that matched the haunting depth of his eyes.

"My blood is purple," he whispered to no one but himself.

Then, without looking back, he slinked off into the trees and was gone from Dinsmoor.

II.

"It's a beautiful morning across Miltrasca County for all who have been anxiously been awaiting some nicer weather. Temperatures are expected to remain in the upper fifties for most of the week before dropping off again as we hit that mid-March slump. Winter always finds a way to sneak back in around this time of year, so do your picknicking, do your afternoon walk, get some exercise, keep active because we all know what happens in April! Chirp chirp!"

Alfred grinned at the origami newspaper bird perched on the end of his bedframe. It always flew in on its crinkly wings to report the weather first thing in the morning. He gave it a penny to hoard, then swung aside his curtains and gazed out upon the soft light of seven-thirty. Only a few patches of snow remained in the soggy brown vestige of a cornfield across the road. Leaves would not appear for several days, but an active creek of snowmelt was flowing in the ditches from one drainage pipe to the next. Softly, through the glass, he heard the cheep-cheep-chirp-chirp of robins and the coo-woo-woo of mourning doves. If the birds were satisfied, the world was in perfect balance.

Even disguised, he could feel nature approving of the day ahead.

"It's finally spring!"

Alfred got dressed and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. "Good spring morning to you, handsome," he told the lie looking back at him. Rosy cheeks. Firm muscles. Strong jaw and star-filled eyes like clear blue skies. And of course, the itty-bitty points of his ears that stuck out of golden hair. His whole disguise was a messed-up mismatch. Huge, clunky humanish feet and a bulky humanish body, but with the ears and eyes and air and pretense of one who'd been a fairy all his life. A good fairy, anyway. When he set the enchanted glasses on his nose, his eyes immediately brightened, and all the dark, ancient wisdom of his true nature was masked.

He slammed open the door of his little upstairs habitat. "I cannot wait to get outside! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Ope! Sorry, Tolys. Didja see it's spring out?"

"Good morning, Alfred," the servant of the house said. Tolys had his enchanted bracelet on again and looked so average as a human that Alfred forgot he came from a land of rabble-rousers and political tyrants. He preferred Tolys' demonic appearance, but Mr. Jones told him Tolys felt more comfortable with the illusion, and so did the neighbors, who thought living next door to a demon would be too "interesting" to bear.

"Oh, I already know I'm skippin' school today. Can you help me with the excuse again? Ya don'afta feed me any lingonberries this time."

Tolys' eyebrows raised so high he looked like a moth. "Don't you even mention that time. Your rash and fever didn't go away for three days, and stop thinking I helped you. You ate those berries all by yourself."

"Meh. Worth it. I was not gonna be inside takin' a test when there was free hot chocolate at the co-op."

"Just go get your breakfast. I made blueberry muffins for you."

"Radical-tadical-tastic, midude!"

And in a blur of blue, he was down the stairs and in the dining room, where Mr. and Mrs. Jones were having eggs and sausage with their muffins. Mr. Jones was Dean of Magickal Studies at Northstar Academy for Fairies, and his wife was a poet of nature and self-reflection. The two had discovered Alfred the previous fall when he'd been stealing produce and living under a bridge. He'd come "from the north," as he said, but in a place like Miltrasca, "the north" is a term so relative and ambiguous, they only assumed he was from the next lake up and not the great wilderness across the northern border.

"Good morning!"

"Good morning, Alfred," Mr. Jones greeted. "You know yer voice carries throughout the house."

"Ope, sorry. I'm just so excited it's finally spring!"

"It's not spring. It's March. Look at the frost heaves out there. Spring is when those garden boxes're flat on the ground again. Maybe take your urges for mischief out on those this afternoon, after you get back from school."

"Yeah, I'll do that."

"Alfred."

"What?" He asked, his cheeks stuffed with blueberry muffins. They were so buttery and spongy and fruity on his tongue. The sweetness and fluffiness melted as he rushed to chew through them all and replace them with more. In no time at all, he'd wolfed down all three muffin tins Tolys had left for him, and even after slurping down the whole bottle of cream, he was still hungry.

"Don't get excited, Alfred. I don't wanna hear about any mischief today, and I expect to hear you're in all your classes. You remember the deal we have about you living here."

"Yeah, no mischief."

"Spit out that egg."

Alfred had already swallowed the egg and was reaching for another when Mr. Jones snapped his fingers and the carton snapped shut.

"Put your food on a plate and sit at the table."

"Fine, I'm a gentleman. I'm a gentleman," Alfred said. He put the egg carton on a plate and sat across from Mr. Jones.

"You're more entertaining every day," said Mrs. Jones.

"You're not helping," her husband bit back.

"I don't think he can be helped. His changeling brain is on a different plane than ours. Who knows what's going on in there at any given moment?"

"I think Tolys should make muffins every day of the week except Sundays, which are for pancakes," Alfred said. And also, can I please play a magic sport? Hexball? The hexball season is starting. I won't kill anyone. I promise to be careful. Levi is on the hexball team. I kinna think he's a changeling too, but that's just my observation. Don't talk to his mom about it, 'cause he seems really happy right now, an' he wouldn't like it if he had to leave all of a sudden. Plus, I don'even know where her real son would be. Probably off in the woods somewhere just starin' at a tree for eternity."

Mr. Jones kneaded his forehead. The tips of his ears were all red with annoyance. "Alfred, I'm a mandated changeling reporter. You can't keep telling me about all your "friends" 'cause then I have to investigate. And you're not playing hexball 'cause I've already gotten complaints from the faculty about you damaging equipment. Either you learn to keep your magic under control, or this charade about you being my nephew won't last to the end of the semester."

"Great! Then I won'afta go to school anymore!"

"You won't have a place to live, either."

"That's okay! I'm a shape-changer! I'll just transform into some kinna bird 'n live in a tree. Aw, dude, I wanna be a sandhill crane! They look like frickin' dinosaurs!"

"No more muffins from Tolys," Mrs. Jones clarified.

The egg white dribbled from Alfred's pouty lips. Mr. Jones reminded him to use a napkin, and he gloriously smeared it all on his sleeve.

"Do I have to go to school and act normal? What is normal, anyway? My body isn't even normal. I created it from like four different references."

"Well, dear," said Mrs. Jones, "you do want to protect your identity, don't you?"

"I know. I'm taking all this for granted 'cause most changelings are replacing people they stole and they have to act a certain way, but since I'm mostly myself, can't I have a little more freedom? Like, one day off a week? I'm so bad at all the spells they keep trying to teach me. I'm not made for pretty spectacles of light. I'm made for illusions and transformations and energy beams—"

"Energy beams? Is that what destroyed all the archery team's targets?"

"They were makin' fun of my big feet! It's not like I can casually explain they're based on human feet 'cause fairies never take their shoes off outside!"

"You see, this is why changelings in the place of children are so ornery," Mrs. Jones said. "They can't express themselves like Alfred can."

"He's not expressing himself. He's making a mess of my school."

Alfred finished chewing on the last goopy eggshell and swallowed with a smile.

"So I don'afta go anymore?"

III.

Alfred had discovered a long time ago that if he created a magical vibration at a high enough multiple of the truancy charm's frequency, he could completely disable it. He'd broken a tooth clamping his jaw shut to keep from telling anyone. Accomplishments, even for an evil purpose, were always the best when shared.

He knew his voice carried throughout the house, which was why he told Tolys he was thinking of eating lingonberries and getting a rash — or something equally outlandish — in order to keep himself home. But casually traipsing outside during the hour when he knew Mr. Jones would never cross his path? Casually sauntering down the dirt road that led to the archery field and wincing at the charred remains of targets? Casually taking his shoes and socks off and sinking ankle deep into freezing muddy water just beneath the leaf-rot of the forest floor? And casually splaying his fingers apart and twisting his magical energy into the shape of a spell that made the bluish power field shudder and dissolve? Completely beneath Mr. Jones' expectations.

"Ya can't outwit a changeling," he said to himself before laughing in his hollow, chittery way.

But he'd given himself too much credit, for beyond the little copse that separated the school grounds from the rest of the countryside was a great yellow field of frost-eaten wildgrass, all folded over from snow. With each step, more freezing snowmelt bubbled up from under the sod and chilled his toes to the bone. He tried to wind his way around the larger puddles still sparkling with snow in the center, but his legs inevitably plunged into the mud.

Above, the cloudless sky brought no insulation from the chilly morning breezes that tousled Alfred's hair. He held out his arms to balance and forcefully ran across the field with a squelchy schluk-schluk-schluk! Pins and needles came over his feet when he set them on solid ground again. He grimaced at the soiled cuffs of his uniform pants and hoisted himself up on a wooden fence to rest.

A red-winged blackbird flew down to perch near him. It spun around and lifted its wings to trill its alarm to the sun. In the distance, another trilled and cheeped in reply. Alfred gave his best impression of a cheep and trill, which earned about a dozen different replies from all over the trees. His mimicking had truly improved.

"They check those barriers after school."

Alfred snapped his head up from admiring the blackbird's cheeping and dancing. Walking toward him, catlike on the edge of the fence, was his classmate Levi — athletic and talented, but soft-spoken most of the time. He was the type of student the introverts would hate — constantly showered with praise by the teachers and unafraid to assist other students in need. This was a front, Alfred knew, because he'd once seen Levi in the school garden by himself cursing everyone and everything and then looking even calmer than usual.

"Good morning, fellow. You skippin' out, too? Didja take your shoes with? I didn't wanna get mine all wet," Alfred chirped. His feet were killing him, but he had no blanket to wrap around them and settled with swinging his legs through the air as fast as possible to encourage circulation.

"I'm not your fellow! And I know you told Jones about me! I just came from his office!"

Alfred's smile fell.

"I don't know what you have that I don't. You even live in his house! He thinks you're his nephew! How'd that work out!? Ya know what I have to go through every day? I hafta read to my "little siblings" in front o' the fireplace! An' that iron poker is in full view the whole time! I had to explain to my "mom" why I didn't want to eat her herb bread. It's her favorite bread to make. What was I gonna say? That it would make me throw up?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, Levi. It slipped out at breakfast."

"Why would it slip out at all? How do you know about me? We had no reason to even talk to each other before today."

"W'll, how do you know about me?"

"'Cause you're so frickin' obvious, Mr. Spaz-magic! When are you not going to explode a classroom?"

"How do you make controlling your power look so easy?"

"It's not easy! I hafta keep it all stuffed in, and it hurts!" Levi barked. "You can get away with it because you're cute in front of Jones. Ya know where my swap-brother is? Out in the middle of the woods starin' at a tree! He's been there for eight months! Once, I had to move him 'cause o' that ecology field trip! Where's your swap-brother?"

"I don't really… um… I don't have one. 'Cause I made up this shape based on my old "brother" and some human and fairy parts."

"Well, frickin' A, Al. How does it feel to be a drifter? Have you always been so lucky, 'r… "

"I got found out once," Alfred said, brushing hair off the back of his neck to reveal the twisted, silvery skin of his burn scar.

"I got rejected from eight families, and I'm not gonna lose this one 'cause that means I hafta go north, and ya know what's a few hours north o' here? Some place called the iron range."

"Oh, it's not that bad. I've been there."

"Don't say that."

"You know what we should do?" Alfred said, peering up at a big round robin flicking its tail and chirping sweetly its ode to spring. "We should have a potluck."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! A potluck just for weird creatures, so we can all celebrate spring and decompress with each other's company! I know of a few more changelings in town, and there's a whole commune of pixies over in Brogan's Brook. Oh! My best friend's a demon named Tolys, and ya know what he can bring? Blueberry muffins!"

Levi's thick black eyebrows were all wrinkled in annoyance, but after a few moments, he seemed to relax and retreat back into himself. After all, changelings from all walks of life are attracted to mischief. It dwells in their bones and makes their spirits glow with wild joy.

"Can I come with?"

"Ya, you're invited. We can have it tomorrow!"

"I can't skip two days. My mom'll start thinkin' I'm depressed again."

"Then this evening? I can get Tolys to make some muffins for this evening. He'll make whatever I ask 'im for. Maybe he can even do scotcheroos! Somebody's gotta bring scotcheroos."

"Tonight's a little short notice, don'cha think?"

"W'll, when, then!? We gotta do it tonight. Nature is telling me it's perfect. Ope! Sandhill!"

The lanky sandhill crane had just landed in the field with its mate. It trundled through the muddy grass with its long legs bending and sweeping over the earth. Both then thrust their heads in the air and chortled their thrilling epic of epochs that marked them as creatures displaced from their time. Animals that existed in a pocket of the universe they shouldn't have, defying all expectations with the sheer will to keep on soaring the skies and chortling until something greater finally decided to smite them.

Alfred, despite his mind being on a higher dimension, was never good with metaphors, and so he simply said, "Yeeeep. They sure are weird-lookin' dinosaur birds, aren't they."

"Then why don't you turn into one?" Levi said as he hopped off the fence and scampered off into the trees beyond.

Alfred peered at the cranes dipping their beaks into the water, searching for insects and small frogs. The corner of his lips wrinkled and twitched. A warm, itchy pressure was tugging at something in his chest — excitement, and a mischievous excitement at that. It was the sort of feeling that meant for a fun afternoon without consequence. The pleasure of floating, of flying so far above expectations that they were left on the ground without a clue as to where he could be. Alfred couldn't help it. He'd left school. He'd hatched an idea. His insides felt all bubbly and his bones felt all prickly and warm and strange.

He gave in, and his fingers sprouted feathers.

~N~

Welcome to Fataverse! A new fic to celebrate the coming of warmer weather. Get outside if you can! Fresh air is important! Alfred gets his own story at the request of the poll and my own inspiration. It's an attempt at local color, but I'm not writing the dialect completely phonetic or it would look like fanfic Sweden. XD To help, I'm including a cheat-sheet at the bottom of each part. Levi is what I'm calling Molossia. It just fits him. Please review and follow for parts 2, 3, and maybe 4! Alfred is also a main character in Hetafata.

The Vernacular:
Ope — "Hey," "Look at that," "Sorry, I'll sneak past ya," "I just remembered," "This was a bad idea," and more depending on context.
Don'afta — "do not have to." Kinna — "Kind of."
March — not spring. April — also not spring.
Potluck — any event where the meal is made up of dishes brought by the guests. Special K bars aka scotcheroos are cereal cemented together with corn syrup and peanut butter and topped with a layer of melted chocolate and butterscotch chips. They are common at potlucks, along with hotdish, which we will get to in another part.
'R… — "Or…" Used when you are asking a question and present two possible answers: a concrete one and an open-ended one. Ex. Have you always been so lucky, 'r…Frickin' A — Dammit.

Published By Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net April 6th, 2020. Reposters will be cursed.