by Nina Kiriki Hoffman
Read by Chris Reynaga
One frosty evening at the leading edge of winter, when Golden had sent me out to study the night habits of deer, I crouched under a bush with one of the inn yard cats. She was pregnant and hungry. I had brought her a fresh-killed rat. I wanted to buy conversation with her.
“How can I get close enough to speak with horses?” I whispered.
“You won’t be able to, not while you stink of faery,” the cat said.
“What’s wrong with how I smell?”
“We know your kind means us no good.”
Rated PG. Contains magic, and horses, and transformation.