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"Seline!"

Sam let out a terrific wail, and fought at her mother to be let down. "Ossee! Ossee!"

Sunny tried to comfort Sam, though she felt in need of someone to pat her own back and murmur comfortingly. She didn't know what to do. She paced along the beach, chewing on her lower lip. "Hush, Sam. It's okay. Seline's just hiding. Peek-a-boo!"

"Boo?" Sam whimpered.

"Just like Peek-a-boo, right." Sunny was scanning the water's surface for any disturbance in the waves other than the rolling surf. She couldn't see anything.

... Oh! Sorry! The mental link flared in Sunny's mind. I got a bit confused.

Seline resurfaced. The change was astounding; fins fading pink to purple and blue sprouted from the back of her head; rolling in the surf was a green tail and more fluttering fins. No trace of a horn remained, though the teardrop marking was still there.

"Ossee?" Sam sniffed. "Boo!"

"Oh, Seline." Sunny kicked off her sandals and waded into the surf. "You are very pretty."

Seline raised up out of the water and laid a damp, salty head alongside Sunny's hip; Sam pawed at her. I... feel right like this. I'm not sure I ever felt right but I feel right now. But I can't come out anymore.

"I'm here. You can always come up to the beach, and call for me." Sunny found she was crying; she had told herself over and over she wouldn't cry, she hadn't cried knowing what would happen though her heart was already breaking by then, but now, in the moment, she cried. Sam kept pawing at the changeling.

I know. Seline looked at her sadly. I'm not going to far. Not most of the time.

"Sleen," Sam said suddenly, clearly.

"Yes, dear. That's Seline." Sunny wiped at her eyes, but her hands were so wet it was a futile gesture.

I never called you Mom, Seline said suddenly. I hated you so much in the beginning. I was... I was like Alighieri, just hating everything that was human, or looked human, because of that first person. I didn't even want to call you by your name. Sunny...

"You don't need to call me Mom," Sunny said quietly. "I'll know you're thinking it." She kneeled in the water, one arm cradling Sam on her shoulder, the other hugging Seline's head against her. "Go on, Seline. Go swim for the first time. You can tell me what it's like later. We can't stay here saying goodbye for the rest of our lives."

Are you sure?

"I'm sure." Sunny kissed Seline on the forehead, where the horn had once been, where there now was nothing. "Go on. I'll be here, same as always."

Seline nodded, and after scrambling out into deeper water again, dove beneath with a flash of bright fins.

Sunny watched the waves for a while, dripping and cold, Sam crying fitfully. She could feel the connection between her and the changeling, stretched, but farther than it had been before. Perhaps the shell had something to with it; Sunny didn't think she could actually communicate back, but she was aware of great joy, immense joy, but a very deep sadness, too.

"Oh, shhhh, Sam. We'll be okay. We'll be okay." Sunny grabbed the raft from the water, and turned to head inside, for dry clothes, and cocoa, and comfort food. Sam gave a sudden shriek and reached for the ground.

Sunny looked.

Rolling in the pebbles and shallow waves was a long, twisted purple shell, it seemed; upon closer inspection, Sunny's heart nearly stopped. It was Seline's horn, shed during her transformation.

She picked it up, and dropped the raft on the beach; she would deal with it later when she had the energy. Sunny clutched the horn to her like a talisman.

Sunny woke automatically just before dawn, which, this time of year, was beginning to be so early it ought to have been illegal. Still, this was when Sam woke up, and she had soon adapted to waking up at this time.

There wasn't anything.

She rolled over and stared at the ceiling, perplexed. There hadn't been a single day for months in which Sam hadn't been punctual and began wailing for breakfast. She lay for about ten minutes, trying to reassure herself.

She failed.

Sunny groaned and got up. She shoved her feet into her slippers, and padded down the hallway to Sam's room, and peered around the corner.

The room was empty. Sunny's chest clenched. "Sam?" she called softly, afraid to wake anyone else up but afraid not the call. "Sam? Where'd you go?"

Sam was getting pretty big. She'd probably crawled over the crib bars. Lots of kids did that. Bronwen had done that a lot herself. Sunny took a deep breath and went to search the rest of the house.

She didn't have far to go. Sam was in the living room, hands and face pressed up against the glass of the sliding door onto the patio, staring at the dawn-grey ocean.

"Sam? What are you doing out here?"

"Wan Sleen," Sam whimpered; she took her hands off the glass, wobbled unsteadily for a moment, and fell onto her bottom.

"I know. So do I." Sunny scooped Sam up into her arms; the little bat-girl struggled and flapped her arms. "How about some breakfast, though?"

"No!"

"Let's try this again. Sam, do you want some peaches or some applesauce?"

"No!"

Sunny rolled her eyes. The No-stage. Yay. "Yes. Food."

Possibly the hardest thing to get used to, Seline reflected, was the odd way in which sound behaved underwater. Noises which would have been loud in the air were muffled and indistinct below the sea, while noises she would have barely noticed were surprisingly loud.

It seemed to her now, she heard a humming noise. No, not even a humming noise, something more reminiscent of song. It was almost something between gregorian chant and childish singsong, and yet completely unlike either of those things.

She was getting far from shore, but the entire sea was her domain, now. She could, Seline had realised, be at home anywhere she wanted.

With a flick of her fins she turned towards the sound and swam towards it.

She was headed out to sea. After some time, she saw something she did not expect to see.

Light, far in the distance. It illuminated the water with a gentle glow in a way that light can never achieve, ghostly and unearthly. The light seemed blue... or purple. There were shadings of green and silver and gold, stretching though the murky water like fingers.

Seline was amazed; it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and the faint strands of singing seemed to be coming from the source of this distant glow. Eager, she sped up.

One of the first difficulties Seline had discovered was the currents. Currents, like wind, were invisible except for what happened to be swept along them, but unlike wind, they could carry you away if they were strong enough and you were unwary. She had spent some time being buffetted along like a leaf before she had finally learned to be careful, to recognize the temperature change, to see the water swirling in front of her.

She had forgotten.

Seline swam headlong into a fierce torrent of water; she found herself swept around and around. A whirlpool, she realised dimly, and fought to escape from it.

The current pulled her down; Seline let out a watery shriek of terror.

It was not long before Seline was brought through the tunnels before the Lady of Hypo.

She was a thin and strange hippocampus; she appeared to be white, but even in the peculiar light of the luminescent fish, her scales shimmered with rainbows of light, her fins pearly grey, her eyes soft pink. She was draped in strings of pearls, white and black, and she wore a headress formed of mother-of-pearl and a piece of pinkish coral that has been shaped into a smooth spiral seashell shape, which put Seline in mind of her discarded horn. What had happened to that, anyway?

"Where is it that you come from?" the Lady asked.

"I'm sorry. I came from Mystic Island." Seline was terribly, terribly confused. Then, because it seemed like a good idea, she added, "Ma'am."

"A freshwater hippocampus? We have heard of such things, but never have any come to Hypo."

"No, ma'am. I mean I lived on the island. I was a changeling."

"Leave us," the Lady said; she did not take her eyes off of Seline. The two hippocampi who had waited in the doorway swam away without a word.

In this room, the luminescent fish were mostly white, rather than blue, and they darted freely through the water; their shifting light put eerie shadows on the Lady's long face.

"Why have you come to us?"

"It was an accident. I didn't even know this city existed, Ma'am. I was just exploring."

"But you were, then, once a true horse?"

"A unicorn, ma'am."

"We see."

"If you could, I'd really just like it if someone could show me the way out. I think I need to go see Sunny. She'll worry."

"Your... companion?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The Lady rose from her seashell throne, and fanned her way through the water with luxurious movements; she circled Seline. "It has been a long time since any changelings came to this place," she said. "Indeed, we see that you bear marks upon your body of flowers. Flowers are something that are mostly alien to the inhabitants of Hypo. We are surprised, but we are pleased."

It took Seline a moment to figure out that by "we," the Lady was referring to herself. That was just weird.

"Please. How do I go home?"

"We will arrange for you to rest some more, and eat well. Then someone will show you the entrance to the city. What is your name, changeling?"

"Seline."

"Then, Seline, go and see your companion, your family. Friendship is a precious thing. We understand this. Please return to Hypo when you can, Seline. We need to think on things, but we would like to speak with you."

Seline went away, feeling troubled.

"Sam! Sam!" Sunny searched the house, hissing out her adopted daughter's name worriedly. She was half-debating waking someone up to help her search, but... not yet.

Bronwen appeared in her bedroom door, yawning. "Mum? What's going on?"

"Um." Sunny peered at her elder daughter, and grimaced. "Sam's playing hide-and-seek with me. You go back to bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, you just sleep. If I need help, I'll go wake up Hecate."

Bronnie started to acknowledge this, but was interrupted by a yawn; she retreated back to bed.

Sunny scratched her head. "C'mon, Sam, mummy doesn't want to play this right now."

The door to the patio was open; Sunny's heart skipped. "Sam!" Forgetting shoes, she ran out, half-expected to find Sam laying at the bottom of the steps with a cracked head.

Luckily, there was nothing.

Sunny was at a loss. She'd closed the door. She might've forgotten to lock it, but... this was... Sam couldn't open the sliding door, could she? No. No. No? Crap.

"Samantha!"

Sunny stepped, barefoot, out onto the grass, and saw, down by the water, a small shape huddled by the waves.

"Samantha, you don't move! You stay right there!" Sunny sprinted across the grass and the sand and scooped Sam up into her arms. "Oh, you had me so worried. So worried!"

Sam squirmed in her arms; she was clutching Seline's horn tightly; she had been huddled the raft like a blanket, and it sat on the sand, where the waves lapped at it.

"Boat," Sam said clearly, and began to cry.

"Nonononono. Shhh. It's okay. No boat right now. Boat for when everyone's around. If you want to go in a boat, there's the old rowboat, and me and you and Bronnie can go in that. Shhh. Shhhh." Sunny found herself crying out of relief.

"Sleen!" Sam sobbed, beating at her mother with her fists.

"Seline just went away for a while. She'll come back. She'll come back." Was this even true? Sunny kept saying so, but... she wasn't sure she believed it herself.

"Sleen!" Sam insisted.

"No, no..." Sunny looked where the girl was pointing, and stared.

There was a wake in the water, some ways out, of a body moving swiftly just beneath the surface.

"Tell me about this city."

Sunny had settled herself on the dock in the dawn, Sam seated happily beside her mother, and reaching to pet Seline, who floated in the water alongside.

It was very pretty. The Lady--she's sort of the queen--wants me to come back. There was also Pike. He was... very... handsome.

"Oh, really?" Sunny laughed.

"Miss S'leen," Sam mumbled suddenly, and distinctly. She screwed up her face as though about to cry.

I think Sam has grown lots since I saw her, Seline said doubtfully.

"She has... she's not even really a baby anymore. She hardly lets go of your horn, when she can."

Is that what that is?

"Mmm. We found it after you... yeah."

I'm hungry. Sunny, I'm going to go swim off and find something to eat. Is that okay?

"All right. I'll see you later, then."

"NO!" Sam screeched. "S'leen stay."

Sunny stared miserably into the water. Seline backed up, swam forward, and with a powerful movement of her tail, hoisted her forequarters up onto the dock next to Sam, dripping. She bent a damp nuzzle to the little girl. I'm not going to be far. I'll come back after breakfast. And even when I do go away, you're still my sister and I love you.

Sam sniffed, and gave a hesitant nod. "'Kay," she said.

Seline gave Sam a nuzzly, briny kiss, and flopped back into the water with a terrific splash; Samantha shrieked again, this time in delight.

The ball was one of the dense foam baseballs they use in children's leagues, the gloves were a slightly stiff new child's glove and an old, worn glove with leather so soft it was nearly like cotton. Sam's glove didn't fit her quite right, because of her wing, but she hardly seemed to mind.

Sunny was glad this had worked out so well.

Sam had still been so mournful, after so long, that Sunny had decided it was time for a change. In the crisp autumn air, they were having a baseball lesson.

"Mum! I caught it, I caught it!"

"Good job, Sam!"

Hecate and Bronwen were sitting on the porch, watching. Hecate was twirling a baseball bat between her hands.

"I caught it again!"

Sunny tried not to laugh. "You're doing great. Okay, should we get a game going now?"

"Yes!" Sam clapped her hands.

Hecate trotted over with the bat; it was wooden, and light. She handed this to Sam, and set up a tee. Sunny tossed her the ball, and 'Cate set it carefully on top. Bronnie set up some bases--they were really squares of cardboard.

"When you're really good," Hecate said, "you won't need the tee."

Sam beamed. "I'll get really good. I like baseball."

"I'm pitching, Sam's batting. Who's going to be field with me, then?"

"I'll be catcher," Bronnie volunteered. She ruffled Sam's hair, and Hecate, grinning, cantered in the vague direction of shortstop.

Bronnie took Sam's glove, laughing. "You can't hit the ball if you still have your glove on."

Sunny came down off the "pitcher's mound" (which was, admittedly as flat as any other part of the yard). "Sam, don't swing the bat around like that; you'll peg Bronnie in the face. Now, hold it like this. Let Bronnie back up. Okay. You remember the rules?"

"Yep!" Sam grinned toothily.

"Okay!"

Everyone assumed their positions, and Sam took a clumsy swing at the ball, a wood-chopping swing. She missed entirely.

"It's okay, kid. Try again," Hecate called.

Sam swung again, and succeeded, this time, in hitting the tee; the ball bounced off and rolled backwards. Bronnie replaced it.

Sam took another swing; this one connected. The ball bounced forward a few feet forward.

"Run!" Bronnie urged her sister. "You have to run now!"

Sam dropped the bat and took off towards the first cardboard base, while Sunny rushed forward to pick up the ball. She turned and was throwing the ball to Hecate just as Sam rounded first base.

"Keep going!" Bronnie yelled.

Bronwen thought this was hilarious, the way her mother and the centaur pretended to not know what they were doing, for Sam's sake.

Hecate, ball in her big hands, ran towards Sam as the bat-girl rushed between second and third. Sam squealed and put her hands over her head as she ran; Hecate, laughing, ran right past her.

"Go home! Go home!" Bronnie cried.

Sam ran like mad for home base. Sunny was cheering, despite being the pitcher, and Hecate had got her legs tangled in a sudden directional change. She got herself together to run at home, then remembered they had a catcher and tossed the ball to Bronnie.

The throw was wide; Bronwen reached for it but it sailed right over her head, and Sam ran, victorious, into home base.

"I did it! I win!" she shrieked.

Bronnie scooped her sister up in a tight hug. "Hooray for Sam!"

"Hooray!"

"Who should bat next, Sam?"

"Bronnie!"






Much later, as they rested on the deck with cocoa and cookies (and a few wriggling crickets for the youngest of them), Sam had a question. "Why is it called a bat?"

"I don't know," Sunny had to admit.

Sam thought about this for a moment. "Then I'm going to be really really good," she announced. "I will. Because I'm a bat, so I'll be good at, uh... batting."

Hecate smirked; Sunny just beamed. "You'll need lots of practice. But I bet you can do exactly that."