This may be the greatest moment of Anna's life. Also, potentially, the most terrifying, but in a thrilling kind of way. Wind ripples through her fur and fills her lungs with the fresh, clean smell of morning. They rise higher on the broomstick, above the wonky little cottage and above the forest until all the trees below look like tiny broccoli florets, and the only sign of Elsa's home is a thin trail of smoke escaping the verdant green carpet below.
Elsa assures her that they're not going that fast - only about as fast as a bicycle - but the sense of momentum thrills her nonetheless. She can't believe she almost missed out on this experience, trying to be polite. All her life, Anna has yearned to fly, swallowing down a tinge of jealousy at other familiars whose animal form includes wings.
Now the whole town lies below her, tiny, like a toy town, and her life feels smaller as well. An abstract sense of freedom overcomes her, and she tries to savour every millisecond. To burn every inch of this vision into her memory. The white sands of the beach like a destination postcard. The ocean, a shimmering tapestry of different blues, from pale greeny cyans to deep indigo, all meshed together with stitches of crashing white seafoam. And the town, a tiny mosaic of tiles, pointed roofs glinting in the sun with grey roads spiralling out from the centre. The last remnants of the sunrise is a blaze of alien green light, and the only thing hampering this moment is the knowledge of the stunning pinks and purples, reds and oranges that she cannot see with her colourblind cat eyes. It's difficult to imagine this kind of beauty in its full glory.
Of course, the whole thing is only enjoyable due to the security of her position inside Elsa's hoodie, held snugly in place by the buttoned up coat, with just her head and front paws poking out the top. Anna was worried at first that carrying her would mean Elsa would have to ride one-handed, and that would make things difficult, but again, Elsa assured her that witches and cats have always flown together. 'It's the most natural thing in the world,' she said.
Ha. Anna's father would disagree. Most people who don't like magic claim it's unnatural. But then why does it feel so right?
Anna holds her breath as they tilt to the side, instinctively extending her claws into the fabric of the coat, but Elsa's free hand - the one that isn't guiding the broom - holds her snugly in place. That bubbling feeling arises again, that one that conjures words like it's safe here. Rest if you need to. There's no shame in it.
She wonders what it would be like to ride like this in human form, perhaps behind Elsa, wrapping her arms around her waist like people who ride on the back of a motorcycle…
She shakes the thought from her mind. It's silly. Why would Elsa wanna drag her goofy ass anywhere?
'Where's the store?' Elsa asks.
'Oh, it's,' Anna squints down and tries to point, 'that building there, across the road from the school, near the church. But maybe, uh, drop me in that alleyway behind the bakery.'
They hover above the town for a moment, rocking slightly in the breeze before descending. The straight downward motion makes a slight whooshing sensation, like riding an elevator, but it's not a fraction as bad as teleporting. It's not just the descent creating a sinking feeling in Anna. It's also disappointment. The last day and night have been like a lovely dream. A break from real life. But the thing about breaks is they have to end sometime.
She had hoped she might find Jonte in the laneway, just to kill a bit of time with a friendly face, but it's empty. Instead she says an awkward goodbye to a slightly concerned looking Elsa, and scampers over the fence and into the heart of town.
'Well, look who finally decided to show up.' Hans doesn't turn from his workbench as he speaks. He is copying addresses from his laptop screen onto postage bags and boxes, ready for outgoing orders.
Anna doesn't answer, just skulks around the back of the workshop between plastic drawers full of cheap craft materials. Glitter. Coloured glass. Generic seashells, all identical. Home-brand herbs, dried and preserved, and mass produced charms - moons, suns, four-leaf clovers, flowers and the like.
'Where were you last night?'
'Um, taking cover from the storm?' Anna's default reaction is fear and apology, but she remembers the disgust on Elsa's face and almost finds the strength to say I might ask you the same question. Instead, she bites her tongue, because she wants him in a good mood. She wants to go to her brother's graduation, on two legs. She wants to have actual conversations with her family members, to pick up her nieces and nephews, instead of it being the other way around for once! She wants to wear clothes and eat people-food and remember what she looks like. She doesn't want to be absent from another family photo. It's like she's disappearing.
Anna stares at the same four walls in the dimly lit storefront, wondering how the so-called path of wonders has managed to become just as dreary and monotonous as her very first teenage job bagging groceries. At least back then she could engage in a bit of chit-chat with customers.
Rows of single-wish candles line the walls, pre-loaded with wishes. Some will give you all green lights on your way to work. Other ones will ensure your next meeting goes well. Another to find that household object you've been looking for and another to protect you from being scammed by your mechanic.
A display cauldron sits in the middle of the room with a purposeless concoction bubbling inside it. It looks great. The dancing mists shimmer and change colour as the liquid inside goes from metallic to chrome to pastel to matte. Occasional tiny fireworks spurt into the air. But that's all it does - complete the look. Much like Anna herself on days like this, because what is a magic shop without a cat?
During her spare moments, she gazes up at the ornamental brooms fastened to the walls, closes her eyes, and drifts back to this morning. High in the sky. High above this job and her backlog of tasks and the stress of catching up biting at her like fleas.
The first appointment of the day is some kind of backpacker. A skinny man with sunburnt shoulders, long hair, flappy tie-dyed pants and heavy eyelids. He wants the Lucky Traveller charm on his shoes, to help him find all the best secret places as he heads down the coast.
Anna is left alone to man the store. Mostly this involves directing antsy customers to a sign reading, the wizard is currently with a client, and will return shortly. Sometimes she helps them find things they need amongst the shimmering shelves, or even makes a recommendation. She can't justify her reasons, only point to the product in question and they just have to trust her judgement. She also supervises as they scan the items they want and tap their card on the reader - there's a ward on the door preventing anyone from leaving with objects they haven't paid for, anyway.
The appointments come through, one after the other. It's mostly petty things. A magic mirror filled with pornographic hexes that need removing. Those people who come in for readings, week after week, because they can't make the simplest decisions in their life without psychic guidance.
Jonte skips into the store some time after school finishes, with his tie hanging loose around his neck and bag swinging off one shoulder. He blows his mop of hair from his face and slams a pink glamour bottle down on the counter with a grin. Cheap glamours in spray bottles are popular with school kids. Usually, it's pink for girls or blue for boys, and a few green, purple and yellow ones cater to anyone in-between. Anna bought plenty of those, back in high school, and told her father it was just perfume. Turns out she wasn't entirely lying - they're mostly just a confidence boost with a mild skin glowing effect. They are all exactly the same, coloured with cheap food dye.
'Don't waste your money on this crap, kid.' Anna says.
'Oh, I know, kitty.' He pulls out a handful of coins, 'I am already fabulous. But the dance is coming up. A bit of extra zazoom can't hurt, right?'
She slides his money across the counter, into the drawer, and moves forward to sniff at him. His magic gets stronger every time she sees him, and she wonders whether he's had any magical mishaps yet, or whether he's blissfully unaware of his true nature.
'Oh, you can smell the treats? Here you go.' Jonte pulls a handful of cat treats out of his pocket and scatters them on the table. Anna wonders why he has a pocket full of cat treats, and as if reading her mind, he answers, 'I just had a feeling I might need these today.'
He sprays the glamour onto himself, winks with a sassy head-flick, and walks out the door with his head high and shoulders back. Anna would never admit it to her family or friends, because familiars are mocked and scorned for such things, but the treats are delicious.
By closing time, Hans' mana is all but nought. Anna can tell by the way he rubs his temples and downs a bottle of Powerade with some painkillers. The way he groans and squints at the lights, which are already so dim. Her heart breaks for the last appointment of the day. A dumpy little man who believes he has some kind of money-draining curse. When he booked the appointment, Anna smelled no curses, saw no black mist, absolutely nothing supernatural inside him at all. He probably just needs financial counselling. But Hans booked him nonetheless, assuring him that his troubles would soon come to an end.
By the time night falls and the open sign turns to closed, Anna is exhausted once again. Her energy runs out so fast these days and all she wants to do is sleep. Her heart yearns for the soft comfort of Elsa's berry basket. The quiet of the forest, the warm crackling of the fire.
'No rest for the wicked.' Hans reminds her, as he pulls the warm, closed laptop from under her limp body, dumping her onto the counter. 'Those memory boosters were supposed to hit the shelves today. We have a backlog of orders.'
Of course they do. There's always a backlog of orders. Hans opens the ledger book and begins punching numbers into his calculator, and Anna pushes her head through the basket handle. A half moon is shining in the evening sky, and it's time to head off into the night.