text: We did a Secret Santa story exchange on the discord! The task was to use at least 3 of the 6 given constraints and to write a story between 500-1000 words. Constraints: At least one lgbtq+ character, please A fantasy setting with magic! Some shape shifting or transformation An unexpected betrayal or twist Some variation of the line "But I loved you!" A con, heist, or crime &#x200B; Content warning for mentions of homophobia, abuse, and ableism Story: I look up and see Leah approaching, stumbling on the knotted ground of the hill. The sun falls sharply on her skin. As she reaches my tree, the leaves’ shadows flutter across her figure. “Hey Ash,” she gasps, leaning hard against the oak’s trunk. She must be tired from walking here. Or from distress. It’s always the combination, isn’t it? “They said some shit again, didn’t they?” I ask her. I don’t have to look to see her nod. I look anyway. Leah sits down heavily and scoots closer to me. She’s looking forward, so I can watch her face. “Yeah. I mentioned bisexuality because apparently I haven’t learned, and they said we should just ‘choose to be straight’ and there was ‘no excuse’,” she pauses for breath, “for ‘sinful behavior’.” She curls her legs up. I place a hand on the grass near her, not wanting to touch but offering. “We should get away from here.” “Yeah.” We’ve been through this before. Saying we should get away. Every time it feels a little more real. “My parents have a magic book in their library,” I hear my voice again. “We could turn into birds and fly out to Xanpria, find a sanctuary.” “That just needs feathers and stuff, right?” “I think.” We don’t look at each other. If we make eye contact we might come back to reality and the dream fall apart, and I can’t let that happen. “I’ll get the book tonight.” “We’ll meet here,” Leah says. I risk a look, and our eyes meet. They don’t part. We’ve agreed. \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* I am here first, again. The sky’s faded into purple and black, clouds shining pink. Leah will like this. She does better in the evening. The leather-bound book lies closed in my lap, my finger inside to trap the page. I don’t know why I keep it closed when I’ve already looked over the recipe. Maybe I’m waiting for Leah. Summoned by my thoughts, Leah appears, stumbling up the hill. I don’t know if I should go help her. I know she can walk here on her own. But I also know it hurts. I stay seated. Hesitantly. As Leah reaches the tree, she grins at the book in my lap. “You’ve got it,” she says, and I smile back with relief. “Here’s the recipe.” I open the book. “It just needs feathers and a bunch of grass and sticks. More important’s the shape.” Leah twirls two grey-white feathers between her fingers. “I found these on the way here.” I stand, trying not to let myself feel. If it gets too real I might panic and quit. Just go through the motions. “I’ll go get some more sticks, then, and you can read the recipe and look at that shape.” “I got it no problem,” Leah replies as she plops down and pulls the book into her lap. “My parents hate my art, so I’ve gotten real good at it.” I laugh, and she smiles at me wide. I’m struck by her look. Before I look away, I wonder what my face showed back, and I hope it was as bright. Then I’m off. I don’t have to go far, just around the tree. But I didn’t want to ask Leah to walk more. I wonder how much her energy would drain leaning down at every step to add to her handful. How tired she’d get without saying a word, how much it would take before she inched forward on her knees, still claiming to be fine. I won’t hold her back from doing things. But I can’t be another person asking too much. When I get back, Leah’s arranged handfuls of grass in the shape of two flying birds, wings intersecting where she placed the feathers. I drop my armful of sticks and she immediately reaches for different sizes, placing them around the edges for the linework. It’s beautiful. For the first time today I let myself feel real. It feels amazing. “You’re so good at this,” I say, and Leah grins wide again. “Just wait till you see what I can do with paints. Anyways, think I’m done. Only thing left’s to stand and say the call. And maybe find food, my parents wouldn’t let me eat dinner since I mentioned queer stuff.” I pull a roll out of my pocket. “Here. I always stay prepared. Our parents aren’t that different.” “Thank youuu,” she sighs, taking the roll. I look away as she eats it. Then it’s time. “Okay,” Leah says as she stands, “the book said to whistle with spirit. I can’t whistle, but I can make a sound that’s a lot like the wind, so I’m gonna try that. We have to imitate the birds’ pose so I picked an easy one, we just put our arms out and hold hands.” She looks at me. Our eyes don’t part. “Ready?” I nod. Then we raise our arms and whistle. It isn’t until I start whistling that I realize how much I habituate to being quiet. Today is the end of hiding, I remind myself. I scream. The feathers rise from the ground to our hands, brushing against them until they feel like ours. Then a wind scatters Leah’s drawing, and our bodies collapse and reform into a small, beautiful bird I don’t know the name of. From our flying pose in the air we fall to the ground, flapping our wings and landing softly in piles of grass. Leah hops around a root. “It feels so weird being a bird. My body’s all different but I’m the same.” Somehow even in chirps her voice sounds like hers. “No weirder than my own body,” I respond. “It never felt right in the first place.” Leah pauses. “By the way, since we’re gonna be away from here...” “He/they,” I respond. “And thank you.” She nods, then we exchange a glance, count down, and fly off into the sky, compelled by the desire for freedom.