Catia was asked to hang upside down and rub the wing of a chicken over her face. The black cat looked at her healer—an owl with glasses—in surprise.

“Don’t give me that face, girl,” her mother complained. “Do as the nice man tells you.”

Pain stabbed Catia’s spine. It was another bad day. The tingling had definitely spread to her left paw, and the headache turned every sound into an explosion.

With teeth clenched, she followed the orders of healer Owin. She hung from the ceiling for many minutes and rubbed herself until she had chicken feathers on her tongue. It didn’t seem to do anything.

“And?” her parents asked hopefully. “Better?”

Catia could barely talk like this. “Weirder.”

“It needs time,” Owin said in a slow and posh voice. “Give it at least a month. I’ll return regularly.”

He threw two raw eggs into a glass of milk, then used some dirt and leaves to give the potion the most filthy color imaginable. Then he placed the glass against Catia’s tongue, who shut her mouth reflexively.

“And drink this, every day,” he said. His head nodded with each word, as if he constantly agreed with himself.

“Ew. No thank you.”

Catia felt lightheaded. It surely didn’t help her headache. Her body had grown more ill for months now and she felt tired enough to sleep an entire week.

“Catia! Behave yourself!” mother said. Then she whispered in her ear: “We are paying through our whiskers for this expensive healer! He’s one of the best. Do as Owin says and I’m sure you will heal.”

They finally helped her down. When they let her go, Catia fell, her vision black and unable to use her own paws. Her anxious parents carried her back to the soft bed in the corner.

“Maybe,” Catia said with a sore throat, “Owin can explain why this would work?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, as the owl packed up his pouch and attached it to his wings. “There is an illness in your head, which gives you a headache. So, hanging upside down will slowly make the illness leak from your head, like a dripping faucet.”

“And the chicken?”

“Chicken feathers stimulate the muscles. Even Bella the Godchild knew this! Common sense, common sense.”

“Ah. Yeah. Sure.”

Her parents helped Owin to the door. The villa was a large maze to anyone who didn’t live there; the previous five healers had gotten lost.

Catia clenched her teeth again. Pain shot through her body for weeks now, growing more harsh and more frequent each day. She rolled from her bed, turned to her side, then her other, but nothing eased the pain. As if her body was eaten alive from the inside by the illness.

First she had endlessly whined from the pain. She was even past that now. Her life was a dull thud against her body and she slowly lost hope that anything would heal her.

She was young! Shouldn’t she be strong? Have nine lives? It was unfair, and stupid, and why didn’t her parents buy the BEST healer with their gold?

Mother sat beside her. Their butler arrived to bring food and change Catia’s bedsheets. Their assistant quickly lit a few candles hanging from the walls, but fled when she saw mother’s face.

“You’ll never heal if you don’t take this seriously, dear,” said mother.

“I take it seriously. I do the exercises. I swallow those filthy potions. But nothing works.”

Mother sighed. She was a beautiful black cat, always wearing the most fashionable clothes and keeping her fur squeaky clean. But Catia’s illness had even removed some of her shimmer and shine, adding deep wrinkles to her face. Somewhere deep down, they all felt this wasn’t a cold that would blow over soon.

“I must admit Owin wasn’t as good as I’d expected. Especially at that price.”

“We need the best healer,” Catia said confidently. “The Wise Owl. Aria, the Hero’s Healer.”

“But dear, you know that she …”

“I’ll do everything she asks! She’s worth all the money.”

Mother looked away. From their villa atop the hill, they could see the beautiful nature around them, and all the poor filthy slums at a safe distance.

“It would be almost all the money we have left. Aria doesn’t accept all patients, only those of whom she’s sure she can heal them.”

“But that’s why she is legendary: all patients in her clinic have always healed! She’ll accept me. I am certain.”

Catia mostly told this to herself. Her mother would have spent all her money for her daughter without hesitation. But Catia needed a sliver of hope that the pain would disappear one day.

Mother conferred with father. A safe was opened, emptied, and then placed on their golden coach under the watchful eyes of many guards. Some time later, Catia was carried to the back seat, but insisted she could walk on her own. That tiny distance would be fine. A small victory.

That same evening they rode for the enormous estate of Aria. The comfortable coach, soft and warm on the inside, silently raced over the smooth paths.

Catia instantly fell asleep.

But the road grew more hilly and rough as they got closer to the inner city. Even this late, it was still busy and noisy. Beggars and merchants yelled for money, food, help, or all three.

A severe bang shook Catia awake.

Her window was covered in a red substance. Tomato? Yes, tomato again.

She knew exactly which neighborhood they’d entered. And the animals here, in ragged clothes and starving bodies, knew exactly who’d sit inside such golden coaches.

Their voices drew awfully close. One yelled about “pulling the rich devils out of the coach”. Another rattled the ropes that attached the horses to the coachwagon.

Catia’s heart skipped a beat. The horses sped up. Her parents held her close until the moment was over.

The windows needed cleaning, again, but she was still alive.

And so they reached Aria’s home. Even the gate was made of the finest gold and silver, large and wide enough to even allow entry to elephants if needed. The entire place beamed magical energy. A place of wisdom, science, and medicine.

Yes. Catia would be admitted and healed here. It would succeed. The pain would—

Her parents used their bag of money and considerable influence to have the gates opened. Catia wasn’t sure why her parents were this influential, but she was glad they were. They owned lots of land. But why? Why were pieces of land the property of one animal? Her father and mother never actually seemed to be working?

Aria herself flew out to meet them. A good sign? Her wings were so long they often scraped the floor while walking. Her eyes were almost too large for her head, and she wore three pairs of glasses on top of each other. She used to be much larger, a Giant Owl, but something had shrunk her size over the years. Perhaps it was simply her old age.

The coach door was opened. Cold wind blew over Catia’s body and made the tingling more severe. She was carried outside and presented like a newborn lamb—hopefully not for slaughter.

“What are the symptoms?” Aria asked, switching glasses. Catia wanted to tell it herself—by golly, it was her body—but she lacked the energy.

“It started months ago with weak paws, headaches, always cold. Now she can barely stand or walk, and only wants to sleep against the pain and loud noises.” Mother was close to crying. “Please. Help her. We’ve given everything, tried everything.”

“Did you try witches?”

“Well, no, not that! Of course not! What a horrible suggestion, I don’t know what I’m hearing.”

“The last witch they burned was a demigod who could heal broken bones with a touch. Witches would be the first thing to try, if the animals of this city had any brains left.”

Her mother was aghast at these comments and now wondered why Aria, the miracle healer, had never been accused of being a witch before.

Aria switched glasses again and bent over Catia to inspect her. Did they have to do this outside? What was the hurry? She thought back to all other rumors about patients with weird illnesses that Aria had healed. And yes, in all those stories, the decision was made outside. You were only allowed inside if she decided to accept you.

Her puffy wings curled around her body like warm blankets. She inspected each paw one by one, lifted her eyelids painfully far, and pushed a thin wooden device into her ears. By now, she’d already investigated her for longer than all other healers.

Then she looked at her, with concern and sadness.

“Oh … oh no …” her mother cried.

“Please,” said Catia. “It’s not that bad. I have other symptoms you might—”

She cut off her own sentence by coughing for a minute straight. The wise owl just studied Catia in silence, her expression changing all the time. It took so long that her parents were already about to scoop Catia into their arms and leave again.

“Oh! I missed that,” she said suddenly. She took out a piece of paper filled with technical drawings and handwriting nobody would be able to read. She traced some lines with the tip of her wing and nodded to herself. All healers did that, apparently.

Then she smiled and took Catia with her.

“Welcome to my estate. Please come in.”

Her heart jumped. Relieved, she fell asleep again in her large wings.

“The first thing we’ll try is hanging upside down from the ceiling.”

Felicia prepared to steal food from a stall. Finally food, finally warmth, finally everything. The black cat seemed shriveled, a rotten piece of fruit that had been cast aside on the road.

First, other animals walked around her. If she dared approach someone, they instantly yelled for her to go away. But now … everyone just pretended she didn’t exist at all.

It had only one advantage: she could easily steal warm meat when the vendor wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t want to be a thief. She’d delayed it for as long as she could, ever since the sudden disappearance of her parents weeks ago.

A coach rattled past her. A golden thing that shone in the moonlight, filled with arrogant animals who refused to share their riches. They all grew tense and attacked the coach with words and tomatoes.

The diversion she was waiting for.

She shot from the shadows, tiptoed silently over the slanted wooden roof, and swung precisely over the fire roasting the meat. Nobody saw her. She reached for the meat, but was just one or two nail lengths short.

So she waited until the swung back again and tried—

“Hey!”

She instantly fell flat on her stomach, below the stall. The merchant reached for her. She had no fur left to grab and slipped away easily.

The merchant chased her until they reached the angry crowds. The countless paws and beaks pushed Felicia around, almost kicking her underneath the coach’s wheels.

As the coach fled, she scrambled back to her feet. Now she was just one animal head amongst many; the merchant had lost her.

She injected herself into a group of animals who looked like they were eating well—and effortlessly copied their call.

“Yes! Away with the elite! Equal riches for everyone!”

The animals around her wrinkled their snouts. After sparing her an angry glance, they stepped away.

What did she have to do? What must she do to receive food and help? She had to belong, but she didn’t belong. Felicia was born into a family of genius inventors and scientists, while these animals—

Two agents—crows—dove onto the crowd from above and picked out one specific female dog. She looked completely normal. For this place, for this time. Many layers of ragged clothes, hollow eyes, and a basket filled with bread tied to her back.

The crows annoyed her until she sunk to the floor. The bread flew out of the basket like drops of water and were eagerly snatched by hungry bystanders.

“Did you hear?” a male dog whispered, who drifted as he walked, almost zigzagging. The smell of alcohol preceded his presence. “They say that Dora practiced witchcraft!”

“Witchcraft!?” The remaining animals all copied the word and whispered in each other’s ears, as if they secretly knew more about this.

“Multiple witnesses say they heard magical spells being cast around the bakery,” the dog whispered.

“No!” Dora cried. “I was singing!”

“Oh, yes,” said an elderly beaver next to the dog. “I’ve always found her odd. So odd.”

Everyone copied this sentiment. Felicia tried it again: she stepped forward, with a trembling body and rumbling belly, then nodded along and mumbled: “Yes, so odd. Weird clothes. Must be a witch.”

“I am originally from Amor!” Dora tried, still crouching to avoid the pecking crows. “A different culture!”

“Yes, a culture full of witches,” Felicia said before she knew it. It drew some attention. She tried to look neutral and sound uninterested: “My family, erm, visited Amor often.”

“We need an indictment,” the agents crowed. “Who is prepared to swear, on the Holy Book of Bjib, that they have seen Dora practice witchcraft!?”

The bystanders whispered in each other’s ears and looked disgusted, but nobody stepped forward. So Felicia did.

“Sorry, Dora, I didn’t want to believe it. But I saw you last night, when you made a potion and … turned a frog into a monkey! And then you put a spell on the entire bakery to … poison the food!”

Animals placed paws and wings before their wide-open mouths. The crows didn’t accept the story outright, but also didn’t ask any questions.

“I—” Dora started.

“I know this because I’ve lived and worked in Dora’s bakery for a while now” Felicia lied. “My parents left me there to work as an assistant! I swear it on the Bjib.”

Dora looked baffled. “I have never seen this cat in my life!”

“Yes,” the drunk dog said, “that is exactly what a witch would say!”

“She speaks the truth,” the beaver added. “She has been working as the baker’s assistent for a while now.”

Suddenly, the animals circled Felicia protectively, putting her as far away from Dora as possible. A young female fox twirled her tail around the black cat. “Look how thin she is. Dora did not even feed her assistant! Or maybe she has also been poisoned by her … witchcraft.”

Dora sunk to her knees. The crows had heard enough. They carried several heavy stones to Dora and attached them with steal chains.

“We make our judgment,” the larger of the two crowed. “Dora shall be subject to a Trial of Witches! She will be thrown into the river, attached to these heavy stones. If she frees herself and resurfaces, then we know for sure she has magic!”

Before Felicia could ask what happened if she didn’t surface, Dora was thrown into the filthy river running on one edge of the town square. As if she wasn’t more than the garbage bags the animals secretly emptied in the same river.

Everyone watched as Dora sunk to the floor and the air bubbles shrunk in size and number. The water was green and polluted, making it hard to see Dora after a second or two. The entire group stood on the shore, joined by the crows, counting to some made-up number.

They reached the number—Dora didn’t resurface.

“The Trial of Witches has decided,” the crow said with satisfaction. “Maybe she wasn’t a witch after all.”

“Hmm. Maybe she was singing after all,” the fox said.

“Or she was smart enough not to reveal her witchcraft! A honorable death,” the dog babbled.

He carefully lifted Felicia by biting into the scruff of her neck. As the group discussed how suspicious Dora was, Felicia only thought about one thing.

A woman had died and it was her fault.

She started the evening with the intention of not becoming a thief; she ended it as a murderer.

Could she save Dora? She had to go back at once. Search the river. But that would be even more suspicious.

Could she invent something? To hold your breath for longer under water? Not too long ago, she’d invented some potion that gave you great stamina if you drank it regularly.

The thoughts drifted away as the dog took her inside and placed her besides a warm fire. She received extra bales of hay for a bed and lukewarm soup. She still gulped it down as if it was the tastiest meat, for it contained tiny bits of delicious fish. And even as she enjoyed it, she told herself she wasn’t worth such riches and treatment. Not anymore.

The adult animals mostly drank alcoholic beverages. Didn’t they know the consequences? Felicia didn’t dare explain the basic way in which such drinks destroyed your body, for she’d be instantly accused of witchcraft herself.

“How brave of you to speak up,” the dog said. “I am Dormas. Welcome to my warm home.”

Did everyone agree with the lie? Why would they otherwise say they “remembered” she was the assistant of the baker? Or did they really believe Felicia told the truth.

She didn’t know what to do. When she started crying, she was comforted because they thought “Dora was like a mother to her” and “how frightening for a child to see a Trial of Witches”. That only made her cry more.

She was about to tell them the truth and return to the river. Her filled belly did not outweigh her conscience at that time.

But then Dormas drank another glass, swerved left and right, groaned and barked in surprise, then fell to the floor unconscious.

In a reflex, Felicia grabbed around herself for several bottles and plants to create a medicine for him.

Catia admitted that Aria was the best healer so far, though her suggestions still confused her. Yesterday she had to keep a living frog inside her mouth for ten minutes. She almost accidentally took a bite out of the poor creatures. Then Aria gently cut into her front paw to let blood flow out of it, explaining that she though the illness was in her blood now.

Catia followed her instructions and held hope. She was treated well, in a large home, and allowed to sleep and walk around in nature. And still her heart told her these “medicine” weren’t helping.

It wasn’t right to her. How could you solve a headache by losing blood in your front paw? What did frogs have to do with any of it? And tomorrow morning, Aria said, he wanted to rub her entire body with fish oil. What would that accomplish?

She barely slept and often rolled over the floor in hopes of losing the tingling pain. The illness was getting worse, that was for sure.

With a sigh, she pulled herself out of bed. How could she ever look her parents in the face again? All their money spent on this healer, and she just wanted to leave? How would she tell them?

A bell rang twice. A new patient? At this hour?

The gate remained closed, so they were not “elite”. But Aria the owl, helpful as always, immediately flew outside.

She left her bedroom, walked the dark hallways, and left the palace through a side door. Yes, that’s what Aria called it. Along the way, she passed one room with a different kind of door, locked by at least five different types of locks.

No, don’t waste time. Check out the new visitor.

Just before reaching the gate lanterns, she hid behind some shrubs.

They were multiple visitors. Was … wasn’t that the dog who threw a tomato at her wagon? Now the dog lay inside a bread basket, carried by a fox and another dog. To complete the odd group, an emaciated black cat also appeared—the same species as her!

Aria didn’t even need to switch glasses. “No. This is a hopeless case.”

“Pardon?” said the fox. “Dormas is worth just as much as any other animal! Even if we come from the River District! I am sure some witch has cursed or poisoned him. The entire district reeks of the stench of witches!”

“It is not about money,” Aria said calmly. “He is unsavable. And witches don’t exist; demigods do. And they never ask money before providing their help.”

The group exploded with dissatisfaction.

“But … but …” said the black cat. She looked around anxiously, as her mouth formed several words without speaking them. “This looks like alcohol poisoning. You can survive that.”

Aria narrowed her eyes.

“I, erm, had an uncle who experienced the same thing. In Amor. Where I come from, remember?”

The owl shook her feathered head. “Bring him to the general hospital for his final days.”

Her reputation was known to rich and poor, legendary even. If she refused, you stood no chance at healing. If she accepted, you’d heal. No exceptions so far.

“Well, well, it’s not like you know everything!” the fox sneered. She spit onto the fence.

Dormas opened his eyes halfway and spoke with ragged voice. “I don’t drink that much. Just as much as the others. Even less! You are seeing this the wrong way.”

Aria took off her glasses. Her face was filled with a sadness that chilled Catia to her bone. “Unfortunately, I don’t see anything the wrong way.”

As she turned around, Aria snatched Catia from the shrubs without even looking. She did see everything!

“I am not mad,” she said. “But you must rest.”

Catia swallowed. “How do you know he dog can’t be saved? He looked like he was just sleeping.”

“I wouldn’t be the best healer on the continent if I shared my secrets,” she said with a smile, as they stepped inside. “This time, however, it has nothing to do with the illness itself. He’ll die from a fault in the brain of all animals.”

That confused Catia. Wasn’t Aria the one with a fault in her brain? Did she have to stay and endure her weird commands, just because she had never failed to heal someone?

“But Aria,” she whispered, back in bed. “Everyone you accept heals. Should that … must that mean that you are the one to heal them?”

Aria seemed to ignore her question at first, standing frozen before the open window. Then her beak twisted. “No. It doesn’t have to.”

She flew away.

Her parents would come tomorrow morning to see how things were going. The evening was young, the visitors still close. Today was a good day for her body.

So Catia made the decision before she could harbor any more doubts.

She crept out of the “palace”, through the black splotches in the gardens, to the gate. Which was unfortunately always well-lit and guarded.

“An evening stroll,” Catia said cheerfully. “Fresh air. Aria’s orders!”

The armed owl frowned at her, but let her through. It was incredibly nice on Aria’s estate. Everyone friendly. Lots of freedom. But she didn’t need friendly now; she need answers and solutions.

She speeded over the path that grew more rough as it reached the River District. Once she found the river itself, she followed it until a town square roughly in the center of the district.

The entire journey, the visitors were a small dot on the horizon, But now they were gone. They had to live nearby the town square, then. And the black cat seemed to know more about medicine than the others, so where was she?

She shivered in the cold, as if the wind was an icy first hitting her bones. She hobbled to the first door and knocked, followed by a pitiful meow.

A chagrined fox answered.

“No beggars!” he grunted. The door slammed shut and nearly broke her nose.

She tried again at the next door, speaking more quickly. “Do you know a Dormas? Or a black cat that looks like me?”

“Dormas is ill and wants no visitors,” a deer said, pushing Catia away with his antlers.

She was getting close.

Gusts of wind rustled the dry leaves covering the stone tiles. The flame in a glass lantern flickered twice, like a last breath, then went out. She stood in complete darkness, surrounded by scary sounds.

At the next door she tried a new tactic. It had to succeed, for her headache made her ears beep and her vision flash.

“I’ve heard … witches live here.”

When she looked up, her eyes met those of the black cat. Stumbling footsteps sounded in the hallway behind her.

“Felicia?” a voice called. “Come. Help. Dormas is heavy. He has to be at the hospital tonight!”

Felicia’s breathing sped up. “Witches? Witches? What are you talking about? Are you a witch?”

“Please,” Catia said, advancing to her doorstep. “You know more about illnesses, don’t you? Or you know someone who—”

Felicia pushed her away forcefully. Then she stepped outside herself.

“Go away, witch!” she yelled. Loud enough for the other animals to hear, as they tried carrying a snoring Dormas.

But then she whispered: “Hide yourself! Meet me later underneath the red tree next to the river. Quick!”

The others stepped outside. Catia meowed softly. With painful jabs in her body, she rolled backward and ended behind a wooden barrel.

“Told you,” the fox said. She looked in the barrel’s general direction, but didn’t see Catia. “This place swarms with nasty witches. Did you get a good look? We must tell the crows!”

“Erm, no, no, she wore black robes. And a black, wide, pointy hat that covered her eyes.”

“Yes, that is exactly what a with would do!”

As they made haste, bringing Dormas to the hospital, Catia fainted from the pain.

Felicia listened with growing frustration to the conversations between Dormas, the healers, and her new “friends”. Only the owls could work for themselves and demand large sums of money; all other species who practiced medicine worked together in lackluster hospitals like these. Usually, they tried to find a doctor of the same species as the patient.

And so a female dog stood besides Dormas’ bed and asked: “Have you recently done anything to offend God?”

“No, no,” Dormas babbled. “Always went to church on Saturday.”

“He means Sunday, of course,” a fox corrected him. Felicia now knew she was called Fonza and always corrected everyone.

The dog scratched a message into the hard dirt around the bed and sighed. “In that case, pray to God three times a day and ask to be healed. And of course, no more alcohol.”

“Pardon?” Dormas barked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Their healer studied him in disbelief. She snatched the bottles from the table herself and ran to the next patient. Felicia was relieved. This increased the chances of recovery for the old dog.

Two crows entered the large tent.

“We’re looking for a fox,” they said. “Someone who has been secretly fishing from the river and eating the victims. That is tenfold murder! Whoever knows anything, please step forward.”

“Or, of course,” the other crow added, “stay in bed with your sick body and tell us from a safe distance.”

Felicia studied Fonza, the only fox in the room, who seemed to shrink. Puzzle pieces fell in place. Fonza had killed maybe hundreds of fish—inhabitants of Amor with the same rights as her—to get their nice food. Who on Somnia had she become friends with?

The crows obviously wanted to speak to her first.

“It wasn’t me, agents,” Fonza said laughing. “I don’t even know which river you talk about.”

“Yes, she is scared of water,” her friends filled in. “Allergic even!”

“Fonza, didn’t you say that you hadn’t had fish in years last week?”

“Yes. Fish is something a witch would eat!” Fonza said. Then she quickly added: “But I will pray to God and ask him to find the criminal behind these murders as quickly as possible.”

The crows whispered to each other, but left Fonza alone for now. The group stayed silent, nearly frozen, until both the crows and the dog healer had left.

Fonza pushed her snout into a pouch and returned with new bottles and glasses.

“No worries, Dormas, you don’t have to spend a second without alcohol!”

The dog licked Fonza’s face in enthusiasm. “It’s ridiculous, right? Yes right?”

“Yes,” the others confirmed. “You drink no more than us. It has nothing to do with your sickness.”

“Healers these days are worthless, yes,” said Felicia. “And praying to God? What will that nonsense ever—”

Her friends’ faces turned to thunder. Fonza asked intensely: “Surely you pray three times a day, Felicia?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, of course. For healing, and world peace, and tasty food. The usual things.”

They studied each other, as if they were gossiping about Felicia with only their eyes.

“I don’t think you understand how this works, little pussy,” said Fonza menacingly. “I pray to God daily. Any … potential misdeed I might have done, is obviously forgiven.”

“We lie for you if you lie for us,” said Dormas less subtly, eyes still closed.

Felicia nodded, her eyes shameful. This was simply necessary to belong to the group and have something to eat. It wasn’t that bad, right? Better to stay alive until she can get back to her parents, than be alone again.

“I … understand how it works.”

“Good.” Dormas received a huge glass of ale from Fonza, which he drunk eagerly. “Here, old rascal, to soothe the pain. And everyone else has seen nothing.”

Felicia forced a smile. “I don’t even know what I should have seen.”

She’d waited until the others were asleep. Because Dormas was in hospital, Felicia suddenly had his chambers to herself. Strangely enough, she’d moved from a homeless cat without parents, to the only inhabitant of a rather large home. Perhaps God was looking out for her after all.

But the walls were thin and Fonza paid extra attention to what the black cat did now. When Dormas fainted, Felicia had immediately grabbed some ingredients to make a medicine—and only saved herself by pretending she thought there was beer inside those. Since then, Fonza had removed almost all bottles from Dormas’ home.

Around midnight, she finally visited the red tree where she told Catia to go.

The sick cat lay shivering and moaning between the plants.

“Oh. Oh this is not good,” she whispered.

Catia woke up. “You … you came?”

“Of course! I come from the Felix family,” she said proudly. “We fulfill our promises!”

Supporting her, she returned home. Felicia calmed herself: she had done nothing wrong. If others had seen them, she’d tell them Catia was her little sister.

But Dora had also done nothing wrong.

We lie for you if you lie for us.

Until they’d find another animal who played along better than her. She had to explain all this to Catia later, but now she needed to soften the pain.

“What have you tried?” she asked.

“Everything. All healers. Even Aria, the Wise Owl. But there’s a limit to how many animals I can rub over my skin or how many mud potions I can drink.”

Felicia laughed. “I’m afraid I’ll ask you to drink another potion. But this is no mud, no, it’s a true Felix family medicine: a painkiller mama taught me. Only requires some common plants and a crushed nut.”

Catia turned to her side and narrowed her eyes. “So … you are a witch.”

“I am a healer.”

“But you are a woman. And you live in a dark house with recipes the church surely forbids. Witch.”

Felicia meowed with restrained irritation. “Do you want me to throw you back on the street? Where your rich butt wouldn’t survive a day?”

“No! No, I just try to understand, I guess.”

Felicia opened a cupboard and found paintings of Dormas and presumably his wife and kids. He looked so much healthier then. Clear eyes, instead of the blurry eyes she’d seen until now. He was a sweet dog, giving away his home and food to a black cat without origin. No God, if they existed, would let him die, right?

She meowed enthusiastically when she opened a cupboard and found exactly the ingredients she needed. Mama always called this the “poor man’s painkiller, because everyone should be able to make this.

Shortly after, she gave Catia the soup bowl with the medicine. She gulped it down despite its bitter taste. She quickly relaxed, her body less tense from the pain.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

“No problem. But, erm, still—not a word to the others.”

“You’re a very secretive not-witch-healer.”

“It surprises me that Aria doesn’t know such recipes. They say the Wise Owl knows everything, about all areas of knowledge!”

“She is weird.” Catia yawned and changed her position, starting at Felicia directly. “Do your parents also work in a secret dark home?”

Felicia climbed onto the other side of the bed. “My parents disappeared. I come from a family of healers. We were rich, yes, powerful, and mostly active around Amor. Father even claimed they were good friends with The Good Chef!”

“The who?”

“Oh, you know, the chimpanzee who is great at making recipes? And rides around in a wooden home on wheels? She had this Book of Meaning or something that let her do all that, until she lost it.”

Felicia’s voice lowered. “But then they were suddenly gone. Our home taken, our wealth taken. And I was kicked out to fend for myself as if I was a contagious virus.”

“The what?”

Felicia grabbed the bedsheets tightly. “What everyone calls witchcraft is simply called chemistry in other parts of the world! I know how particles work and could do a lot of good. But if I say that to anyone here …”

She grabbed Catia’s paw and grabbed it just as tightly. “So shut up, okay?”

Catia giggled. “Why would I tell on the one person actually helping me?”

“I don’t know why animals do what they do,” Felicia mumbled. “Logic is often far away.”

“Logiwhat?”

Felicia sighed. “Sleep well. Tomorrow I will test you and try to find an actual medicine.”

Catia cracked open one eye, almost asleep. “And if that fails?”

“The same thing the day after tomorrow. And the day after.”

“But what if all of it fails?”

“We’ll see. All that matters is today and the next thing you’ll try.”

Somewhat comforted, the sick puss fell asleep. Felicia slipped outside to search ingredients.

Dormas’ health deteriorated quickly. Felicia could barely look at it, but still wanted to visit every day. Thanks to one kindness from the dog she now had food, a roof over her head, everything. And here he was, in pain and with a half-working brain, slowly dying.

“You have to stop drinking,” she said again when they were alone. “I have surely not brought anything for you. Fonza gaf me some glasses, but I threw them in the river.”

Dormas didn’t react for the longest time. Then he whispered.

“Suppose, dear child, someone would tell you to stop doing the thing you liked doing the most … namely, saving animals with your witchcraft. Would you do it?”

Felicia stuttered. “What are you talking about? I am not a—”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I told the others to leave you alone and not enter my home unannounced.”

“But then …” Her body felt on fire. He knew all along. “Then you know I might be able to concoct medicine for you.”

“Wasted effort on an old man. Did you know dogs aren’t even supposed to get this old? The only reason I’ve been walking around for years with bad eyesight and a hoarse throat, is because our hospitals keep saving all of us!”

“Something we can fix as well. If you stop drinking.”

“Felicia, you know I don’t drink more than Fonza or the others. You should know better than to blame that—”

“The others also drink too much!” she yelled. All patients and healers turned around to stare at her. “Why … why …”

She shook her head; her world turned. She didn’t understand. Why did animals make such stupid decisions? Why did nobody think logically? Why did they so easily believe something that made no sense?

If God had truly created these animals, then he must be the dumbest of them all. Fonza now forced everyone to pray together, but while she mumbled something about a holy ghost or something, Felicia just mumbled her grocery list for her next medicine.

“We lie for you if you lie for us,” she said, her paw caressing Dormas’ warm and soft fur. “But what can we do if you lie to yourself?”

Dormas gaf her a weak smile, as if he wanted to be nice but hadn’t actually heard what she said. Then he fell asleep.

The sky had grown dark, the hour late. Felicia still wanted to test her next medicine tonight, for which she needed some unusual ingredients.

She followed the River for a while, looking for a yellow dot-shaped plant that needed a lot of water to grow.

Until she bumped into Fonza.

The fox lay between the blades of grass—a really annoying plant that recently arrived everywhere—unseen and unheard, with one paw on a dead fish. One she just snatched from the water, instead of buying it from Wilderness merchants like a civilized person.

And precisely below Fonza’s paws grew a patch of the yellow dot plants she needed.

“Annoying, is it not?” said a voice from above. Keeping her startled meow inside, she looked for the origin of the sound.

Aria jumped to a lower branch, matching her eyeline. “If you hadn’t known she was the fish thief, you’d have greeted her and simply asked if she could step aside.”

Felicia looked sour. “How long have you been following me?”

“Long enough. A young black cat who knows what alcohol addiction and its consequences are? Very interesting, yes, to the greatest healer in the world.”

She had to admit Aria was right. “If I hadn’t known how suspicious she was, I’d have honestly told her the flowers were for someone else. Without thinking it would make me suspicious.”

“But you do know all that. So now it’s annoying,” said Aria, curious as to what Felicia would decide.

“You don’t happen to grow this plant on your estate, do you?”

Aria shook her head. “I, too, have to explore half the river if I want to find them.”

Felicia prepared herself for a confrontation with Fonza, but first a question for Aria: “Why did you make Catia do all the nonsense treatments if you clearly do know your medicine?”

Aria winked, but it was an artificial playfulness. “Wouldn’t want people calling me a witch, now, would I?”

Fonza didn’t leave. Instead, her paw entered the river again, straight through a layer of filth, to grab the next floundering fish.

“Catia’s parents are very angry with me, though. So if you have any idea where Catia is, I’ll send them there.”

“Oh she sleeps at—”

Felicia stopped herself in time. Aria was best friends with all the elite in the city. Was this a trap? Was she just trying to make Felicia confess to being a witch?

Aria seemingly read her thoughts and threw her warm wings around Felicia’s shoulders.

“Annoying, isn’t it? The entire world punishes you for being honest and rewards lying and keeping secrets. Or, well, this part of the world. There’s another empire, Ottojon, which is growing in the south and has embraced magic instead. And Floria is, of course, still fresh, like an empty canvas yet to be painted with culture.”

Aria shook herself from her thoughts, bending the branch further. “But you are doing the right thing, exactly as the Book predicted.”

“The Book?” Her eyes went wide. “You don’t mean the Book of Meaning, do you? Bella’s Heavenmatter that—”

She had forgotten to whisper.

Fonza jumped to her feet and showed her sharp teeth.

“I give you one chance to explain yourself.”

“I wanted to pluck those yellow flowers,” Felicia said rapidly.

“What? Can’t a Wise Owl sit in this specific tree at night?” Aria said more casually.

“You are spying on me! Whispering about me!”

“Ah, of course,” Aria said with a smile. “I had forgotten that whispering was forbidden by law.”

Felicia frowned. “Is that really …”

“No, of course not! Dear fox, go home and stop killing fish, or I will report you to the Crows.”

Fonza, instead, decided to be stupid.

She barked hoarsely and attacked Aria. The owl put on different glasses and elegantly flew away. This angered Fonza even more. At full speed, she could climb partially into the tree, but not high enough to snatch a feather or leg from the owl.

Felicia saw her opportunity to grab her flowers and get away. She cut off the yellow dots with her nails and placed them in her pouch.

Then the Crows came to check out the noise. Aria had to dodge the rapid spear formation the Crows used most of the time.

Fonza immediately fled, hidden in the high grass. She put on a panicked voice to yell: “The fishkiller! There they are! Save yourself!”

Felicia looked down. Five dead fish, half-eaten, lay around her feet. The Crows had no trouble deciding who was the Fishkiller.

This time, she had been stupid.

“Listen! It’s not—”

The dove for her and pecked into her skin until Felicia forgot what was up and what was down. Beaks tried to snatch the scruff of her neck and take her away, but a strong wing batted them aside.

“She is innocent,” Aria’s voice said.

“Yes, that is exactly what a witch would do,” said Fonza from a distance. “Enchant an owl to say—”

“It was my,” said the owl, putting down her glasses and raising her wings in defeat.

“Aria?” Felicia could barely breath after the attack from the crows, but still reached for her safe wings. “W-Why are you doing this?”

Deep down, she knew why. The good animals do not lie to protect their group or themselves. They lie to protect strangers in need. The only kind of lie she might support, with her mind, not with her heart.

She meowed ugly, like nails scratching on chalkboard, as Aria was arrested and taking away under the accusation of being a murderer.

Fonza threw her fox tail around Felicia’s shoulders and whispered all kinds of kind words, as if she was worried about her own baby child.

“Sorry for calling you a witch, little pussy,” her sweet voice lied. “I’ll make it up to you. A tasty fish dinner to recuperate from this shock.”

It took all possible restraint for Felicia not to poke Fonza’s eyes out, but play along.

“Thank you, neighbor. You’ll have to treat me really well to forget this shock.”

Felicia was forced to introduced Catia to everyone as her sister. If she went looking for ingredients now, she pretended to pluck flowers for her poor, sickly sister. Dormas played along with this lie, although his waking hours diminished, and so did the clarity of his mind.

Catia had been with her for a week now. So, today, they tried the seventh medicine: an orange potion which boiled thanks to the heat of a candle below it.

Catia needed convincing, a lot of convincing and time to prepare herself for yet another attempt.

“The pain is less. But am I really getting better?” she asked cautiously.

“It’s so hard for me to judge,” said Felicia. “From the outside—I can’t look into your body.”

She offered the potion again. The bowl hung from a cord around her neck, for it was too hot to touch with her paws.

Catia sighed and drank it. She retched and nearly spit it out.

“I’m only drinking filthy liquids! And it doesn’t help!” she screeched. “Why are we doing this? It’s all useless.”

Felicia stayed calm. “Useless? A week ago, you didn’t even have the energy to scream like that.”

Catia hadn’t noticed. Looking back, she had to admit she was better. Then why didn’t she feel that way?

“Nothing is ever useless,” Felicia said. “We have now found seven medicines that don’t work. We’ve found a hundred things your illness is not.”

Catia blew out the candle. “Great. I’ll die before we’ve tried the thousands of things it is not. Just great.”

“Every illness has a medicine. It will exist. All that matters is today and the next thing we’ll try.”

“Aria doubts that, and you claim she has the powerful Book of Meaning.”

At the mention of that name, the conversation ended. Today was Aria’s court case. She’d probably keep lying, saying she was the Fishkiller. Oh, how far the once great leader of the Council of Kame had fallen.

Surely Felicia wasn’t worth that? Or did the Book of Meaning know something she didn’t?

They went outside together, where they met Fonza and the others. Some animals from another section of the River District visited to gossip about the news of Aria’s case.

“Weren’t you close when it happened, Fonza?” a small giraffe asked.

“No! Me and Felicia were taking a walk, as we do every night, all the way in the district of the landlord.”

“Yes,” Felicia said reluctantly. “Always very nice. Every night we walk in a place very far away from the river.”

“Oh well,” Fonza said playfully, “Felicia is going through puberty. She’s a bit moody.”

Felicia rolled her eyes and spoke without emotion. “Sorry, Fonza, you are a true inspiration to me and I’m extremely happy you take care of me.”

“See? Inside, she’s a sweetie,” the Fox said. “And a terrific witch hunter. Thanks to her, we caught Dora before worse!”

Felicia’s face contorted upon hearing that name. She turned as if giving Catia something, and only turned back when she’d composed herself.

“Yes, I have lots of experience with witches from Amor. If you see something suspicious, let me know. I will keep us all safe from that big, big danger.”

“And her sister,” Fonza said, “is actually cursed by a witch! Truly! Wouldn’t you believe it?”

Catia could throw up. “Me is woe, such a tragedy, my heart beats too fast since the witch touched.”

Felicia contained a smile. “The curse also makes Catia speak in rhymes. Very odd.”

“Pain consumes me, a true catastrophe,” Catia said as she almost performed a play, including wild paw gestures. “But it was a witches curse which I just cannot flee.”

The animals grunted in response to this partially successful rhyme.

“Felicia’s parents worked for the church,” Fonza kept lying. “That’s why she has … developed her own prayers and hymns.”

“True,” Felicia said, pulling at her whiskers in frustration. “And when I grow up, I will be a nun. Oh I’m looking forward to it. I cannot wait.”

The others patted her and Catia on the head. They almost seemed an attraction meant to entertain the others. They waited until they were gone, en route to the place where Aria’s case would be held.

“I am going insane! I want to scream it from the rooftops!” Felicia hissed, her eyes aflame. “Everything said here is nonsense and lies.”

“What do you mean sister, do you ignore my curse for sure?” Catia said playfully.

“Not. Funny.”

Catia thought so. Felicia was always so serious. With difficult words and scientific things she didn’t understand. She teased her the whole way with rhymes, until Felicia smiled too and forgot for a moment how Aria’s case was likely to end.

Court case was a big word. Aria’s status as the best healer was the only reason there was a case at all, and that the landlord had been asked to visit and perform the judgment himself. Everyone was invited to come to this “great event”, because the landlord loved showing off how just he was and how criminals would be punished.

And so, all inhabitants of the city had come,

Felicia had to climb a tree near the edge and pull Catia after her. They weren’t able to get any closer.

Aria walked to the center, her legs chained to a pole, but her wings free. Another nicety an animal of lesser status would not have received.

“Aria the Healer stands trial today,” the landlord said, a wolf with a clear voice. “She is suspected of fishing in our River, for months, and eating the spoils. One such murder, God might forgive. Two murders would be jail for life. All murders combined mean the death penalty.”

Several Crows accompanied him on his ornate throne, which had been carried all the way to the public square by his assistants.

“She was found at the crime scene, surrounded by recently killed fish,” one said.

“She has admitted guilt!” the other added.

“But Aria, my friend,” the landlord said in a kinder voice. “I don’t believe my ears! Why would you do this? You? With all your riches and wisdom? Speak and explain yourself.”

Aria walked in a circle, making an effort to look at every single individual who came here today, every corner of the crowd.

“I didn’t do it,” she said calmly.

“Said so!” the landlord said with a nod.

The crows interfered. “Then why admit guilt initially? This means you have now lied against the Crows, at least once! And that is surely punishable!”

“No, no, I just said it to receive this stage a few days later,” Aria said with a slight grin. She turned to the bystanders.

“You’d rather listen to the words of a criminal than that of a scientist. You come here for sensation and entertainment, not justice. You betray friend and neighbor on nothing but the assumption that they’re a witch! You live in the most stupid of ways and then visit me to request healing!”

The landlord shook his wolf head. “Take her away, now.”

“And when I heal you, I am a hero. When another woman does it, she is a witch and killed without hesitation.”

“She gets a fair Trial of Witches!”

“A Trial you cannot survive!” Aria yelled. “Listen to yourself. Look at yourself. Is there something true out of all you say, think and do? Are there any brain cells left? Or did you also transfer those to a vacant God who just stays silent?”

The Crows dove onto Aria to pull her away.

“Blasphemy! That will be a death sentence anyway!” they crowed, seemingly happy that Aria had gone this far.

Several bystanders fled the scene before bad turned to worse. Some nodded with her, or whispered their agreement to friends. Most of them, by far, joined Aria in her cries.

“Witches aren’t real, and if they were, they’d be heroes. Your medicines, your recipes, your potions, they’re all nonsense designed to make the poor even poorer! To keep the ignorant in ignorance!”

Catia and Felicia’s tree shook from the beating hoofs and screaming beaks. Most animals completely agreed it was nonsense. Many called for Aria to be forgiven and released, and the witch hunts to stop, and the landlord’s hesitation before sending all the Crows revealed his doubt.

Felicia smiled and hugged Catia—unfortunately, however, it took Aria’s sacrifice to break this lie.

Her wings were pushed against her back, glued to it with a smelly black material. The Crows nearly pulled all the feathers off her skin, as the landlord commanded them to bring Aria to the dungeons. Even her death sentence would be a ceremony and an example—tomorrow at dawn.

“I have seen the beauty of the Council of Kame! I have led this world and all its beautiful animals into peace and prosperity for many, many years. I look at what you’ve become—and I’d rather go blind.”

Aria’s eyes, enlarged by her three glasses, shortly found Catia and Felicia. She mouthed Bella at them. They didn’t understand why.

Aria fought ferociously against her arrest. “There will be an empire where God has no power. Where honesty and logic reigns and all may be and think what they want. No lies. No peer pressure. That I dare call a heaven. Arrest as much as you want, burn all the witches, it doesn’t matter. It—will—exist!”

All Crows were called upon to spread the present mob of animals and calm them down. The landlord quickly fled into his estate, while Aria vanished.

Something shook their tree; Catia nearly fell out.

Fonza looked up. She cried.

“Things … things are not going well with Dormas.”

Catia had to stay behind. She was too ill to join in their flight to the hospital. Felicia had to carry her all the way back to Dormas’ house, almost breaking her back, and then ran back the other way. She’d eaten far too little for this and—

When she entered the hospital tent with a fearful heart, she already knew it was too late.

Dormas was unseeing and unmoving. His healer slowly stepped back and put away her instruments. With a withering stare, she grabbed the half-full bowl of beer from the cupboard and smashed it into the dirt.

“Get out,” she said. “This bed has to be freed up for the next—”

“No,” Felicia whispered. “Maybe I can make a medicine—let me—”

She fought her way through the group to end up against Dormas’ straw bed. Her paws felt his chest. No heartbeat. She stroked his soft fur, but the body was already turning stiff and cold.

Fonza hauled her back. Had she betrayed herself? No, the anger of the fox was aimed at the healer. “Hacks! You’re useless! Even a witch would have done a better job! Don’t think we’ll pay for this treatment!”

The healer ignored it, used to such treatment. She waited impatiently until the group took Dormas away, carried on their backs and shoulders.

“What … what will happen to him?”

“We bury him somewhere in the forest,” said Fonza.

“But he was a devout member of the church. We should find a nice spot on the graveyard to—”

“We can’t pay for that, kid.” Fonza looked devastated. “God is expensive.”

Felicia was too shocked to move. This was unnecessary. Completely unnecessary. Dormas could have survived easily. And now … and now …

Would she even be allowed to stay? Her guardian angel was gone. The only reason she wasn’t dying somewhere in an alley, as ill and broken as Catia.

No, even Catia had people: her parents looking for her. Felicia had nobody. How could the proud Felix family have come to this? How could they do this to her loving parents? If they were still alive, they would surely have come back to Felicia by now …

The church bells announced midnight. A few more hours and Aria would also receive the death penalty. The Wise Owl would give Felicia a safe home, right? Without having to lie and betray under group pressure?

She ran towards the landlord’s castle. The dungeons were somewhere below ground, was all she knew. The fear of coming too late, failing another being, pushed away the tears for now.

All that mattered was today and what you were going to try next. She came from the Felix family— a family of helpers.

Along the way, she plucked flowers left and right. Many shops threw away perfectly usable goods into their waste bins, at least when you were interested in flammable material. She hadn’t exactly practiced this often, but these ingredients would combine into something like a bomb.

Of course, she also grabbed the right ingredients for the antidote, something to protect you against fire. She’d read enough accounts from The Good Chef, received because her parents were good friends with the chimpanzee, to know this. The Fishfool exploded in contact with water and would consume most of it. Its sister plant, the Firebraid, did the opposite and extinguished fire.

In case it went wrong. In case the Crows attacked her with fire, as they often did. She was a good scientist, yes, like her parents, always preparing for all outcomes.

She reached the outer walls of the castle.

Her body had burned up. So much running, so much trouble. She leaned against the wall for a while, under the full mean, before climbing a pole. At the top was a glass lantern containing a flame.

She brought her bomb near the flame.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a voice overhead. Crows!

The next lie was ready. The excuse formed in her head as she slowly looked up.

But it was Aria on top of the lantern—free as a bird.

“I can free myself, thank you,” the owl said. Her body held many gaps and wounds between the remaining feathers. She switched to larger glasses. “The Book of Meaning also taught me how all locks work.”

“What can you not do?”

“Be happy,” Aria answered with brutal honesty.

She took Felicia motherly into her wings. “You lose your parents in a terrible way, and still you come here to save me? You’ve done enough Felicia. It’s time somebody helps you.”

“I have done nothing right! I made them throw an innocent dog into the River! I have—”

“And all your other accomplices do not lose any sleep over it. How can I live in a world like that … and be happy?”

Felicia didn’t know. She almost fell asleep herself, as Aria took her into the cold night sky, back to Dormas’ home.

She had just one question. “Why did you lie about—”

“At least I get a court case and a chance to win it. You, Felicia, would have instantly been given a deadly Trial of Witches. No, don’t think the truth will ever matter in these times.”

“These times?”

Aria briefly paused on a slanted roof. Not to rest, but to hide from a flock of Crows passing by.

“It wasn’t always like this. Years ago, most cities around here looked much cleaner, with more wisdom, equality, everything.”

“How?”

“Everyone thinks knowledge is forever,” Aria said. “Once something is invented, well, we will be able to enjoy it for eternity!”

She continued her flight as the church bells rang 2 o’clock. “The truth is the other way around. Old civilizations knew medicine that we’ve forgotten. Old civilizations had sewage systems, we don’t. Knowledge disappears if it’s not used and maintained, every single day.”

“If only I knew how to heal Catia,” she mumbled against the warm feathers. “We need knowledge about that. Now.”

“You don’t want more knowledge,” Aria said bitterly. “It is a curse. If you had more knowledge … you’d have known weeks ago that Catia is incurable. And lost all hope then.”

“What?”

Aria landed on another roof and scoured the surroundings. No suspicious figures, no Crows flying in wait. Dead silence. Probably because Fonza was still busy bringing Dormas to his final resting place.

They climbed down—and were proven wrong.

The door was ajar, the weak lock splintered thanks to a fierce bite. The planks, covering holes in the stone wall, had been pulled off. Steam escaped through the holes. Fire? Bedroom on fire?

Felicia had left her next medicine on the fire, inside her big cauldron!

She meowed Catia! and wanted to run inside. Aria kept her away and wanted to enter first.

The hallway was dark. All candles had gone out and this house had never had enough windows to start with. The home was silent, the door to the bedroom open wide. It gave no more light than the dim flickering her cooking fire would create.

Aria dodged a part of the ceiling that had come down, until they reached the bedroom. Felicia looked inside. There was … nobody. Even Catia was gone. Grey smoke filled the room, created by the burnt potion.

But Aria still held her back. Her great owl eyes—or maybe triple glasses—saw paw prints on the floor. Dirty, muddy, full of grass and twigs.

They went into the room—they never got out.

Aria beat her wings once, to see the room from up high, and gave them away.

A fox dove out of the other corner and snatched Aria in her jaws. A pair of young dogs bumped Felicia until she rolled against the straw bed.

Fonza’s body remained invisible; the fire only lit up her face from below.

“I knew it,” she screamed. “You are a witch! And where are you now, ay, without the old dog’s protection?”

“I make Catia’s favorite soup!”

Felicia was held back by painful dog bites. Aria still flew around, turning her pursuer insane.

“Yes, that is exactly what a witch would say!”

Fonza pointed her tail to the wall. The faint light revealed symbols scratched into them. Stars with solid lines, figures as if they came from an ancient language. Felicia had not made those herself.

And Catia. Chained up and terrified. She lacked even the strength to fight her ropes.

“The Crows are coming. Admit you’re a witch, or you’ll never see your sister again.” Fonza frowned. “Or is she even your sister?”

“Why do you fear witches so much?” yelled Felicia. “What did they ever do to you?”

“They threaten our culture. Our norms and values. Our civilization!”

Felicia spit in her face. “If you call yourself civilized … then I’d rather be an uncivilized witch.”

Aria dove down and cut through Catia’s ropes with her beak. Felicia bit anything that came near, yielding just enough freedom to move.

Covered by smoke, the trio jumped out of the window.

Fonza screamed the entire River District awake. Multiple Crows had already gathered on their broken roof, made of alternating straw and roof tiles, the best Dormas could ever pay.

“Three witches! Three witches flee! Don’t let them escape!”

Fonza had indeed awoken the entire neighborhood. Everyone would love to catch some witches and be rewarded for it. Aria considered taking the two cats into the skies, but that territory was ruled by the Crows. And so they ran through dark alles and unpredictable pathways through the River District.

The beating drum of their pursuer’s steps was never far away. Torches were lit up and distributed. The Crows had a hard time flying through the narrow alleys for an attack, but they could easily follow where the trio went.

“We must go inside,” Aria said out of breath. “Out of sight of the Crows.”

“I can’t,” Catia croaked. Her meow turned into a roar. “The ill can’t do anything! It’s hope—”

“Hold on,” Felicia said. “You will …”

She couldn’t finish it. Not in the knowledge that Catia was incurable.

Aria also lost her certainty. They’d lost their way in the maze of slanted buildings and odorous alleys, far from the River. All around them, torches made the night buzz and glow, as if the sun rose much earlier. Their screaming grew in volume.

Even over all those voices, Fonza’s voice was easily heard. “Show yourself! Or go back to the shadows from which you monsters came!”

Catia stopped moving forward. She lay on the ground, shaking, eyes shut against her body’s aches. Aria looked concerned and decide to knock on the closest door—

It flew open already. Three wolves came out, one carrying a torch: a horizontal piece of wood between his jaws that burned on both ends.

Aria pushed herself against the wall and pulled the cats with her. Catia had to keep her painful meows inside.

“Five witches, yes!” the youngest wolf said enthusiastically. “Caught red-pawed as they ritually slaughtered a goat! That’s what I’ve heard!”

“It were three witches, idiot,” the torch wolf spoke, though holding the object made him slur his words. “Two black cats—of course—and a crazy owl with three pairs of glasses.”

“We must find them first,” said the third. “The landlord’s reward is ours.”

Aria’s wings slid off. Felicia’s head weathered a hail of pebbles, while Catia lost control of her body. Only a wooden door separated them from the wolves.

They walked away—then froze. “Do you smell that too?”

“That is burnt wood from your torch, idiot.”

“No, no, a different smell …”

A flock of Crows came this way. Even in shadows, Aria’s bright eyes were hard to miss. They had to get inside, indeed, and quickly.

The wolves sniffed in all directions, their snout awfully close to the floor. The one with the torch went to look behind the door.

Aria came alive and smashed her wing onto his head, knocking him unconscious. The falling torch set ablaze all plants and wooden objects in their surroundings.

“Run!”

But in a reflex, Felicia tried to stop the fire first, using the Firebraid she collected before. It worked only partially. So it wasn’t completely the right recipe or balance yet.

“I can’t,” Catia yelled. She had to be carried by Aria, slowing their pace. The wolves started the chase and pressed the trio even deeper into the maze of alleys.

Catia saw only flashes. A blur of moonlight, dark, walls, then suddenly a torch, until the maze was at its end. The streets grew wider, the houses neater and less broken.

Aria and Felicia fell into a few shrubs covered by shadow. Catia was placed on the cold floor.

“We’ve lost the wolves,” Aria said. She sat in the mud, defeated. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. The entire city will be looking for us, and morninglight will come soon.”

“Inside first,” Felicia said. “Then we’ll see.”

When they were sure nobody watched them, they walked around a chique villa and found a half-open window at the back. The inside of the home was dark and deserted. They would not find a better hiding place than this.

They climbed through the window and fell on a carpet. Catia meowed loudly, which covered the sounds of Crows flying by. In dead silence they lay, even pausing their breathing, until they were sure nobody had heard.

“I’m not going any further,” Aria said definitively. “According to the Book, in the entire history only two animals have evaded the witch hunt. One had to lose their leg, the other had to lose their sanity. I stay here until they find me.”

Felicia bent her back and twisted her tail. “Then you don’t deserve the Book!”

“Your parents surely didn’t deserve it!”

“Don’t talk about my parents! The Felix family are healers and helpers and their disappearance is surely a great misunderstanding and—”

Memories imposed themselves on her. Felicia grew confused, light-headed, and pushed them away. Impatiently, she circled the home, which was increasingly well-lit by the first sunrays.

Aria pointed at a cupboard. “Do you really not know where we are?”

Felicia frowned and studied the cupboard. She pulled open doors and drawers, wooden pieces decorated with beautiful engravings, and saw … a picture of herself as a kitten. Her smiling parents behind her. She’d even placed her own paw print next to it and tried to press her name into the parchment: Felicia Felix.

Her head spun. She wanted to rip the drawing apart; she wanted to carry it with her forever.

“What is this? A joke? Did you lead us her on purpose to make me … me …”

More memories intruded. Her parents didn’t wear fancy clothes anymore, no, but filthy rags. Her mother wasn’t stirring a cauldron to make a medicine in Amor, but she climbed on top of a roof in another city to … break in?

“This is where you were born, Felicia.”

“No. No way.”

“Your parents were thieves.”

“My parents were—”

“The Book of Meaning used to be in Chef’s hands. Then it was stolen, and then your parents stole it again. All their riches, wisdom, reputation, was all thanks to that book. Before that moment they were nobody.”

“Shut your beak!” Felicia’s sharp nails lunged for Aria without ever coming close to touching her.

Catia moaned and tried to speak without success.

“You are smart, Felicia. You have a good heart. But even you lie to yourself about your family and heritages, only to feel good about it.”

The entire set of memories returned now, aided by the objects in the room. Vague visions of playing outside in the garden, throwing furniture upside-down as a little kitten, and, yes, that magical book that was heavily guarded in one of the rooms.

“So,” Aria said, beak down, “what am I supposed to believe in?”

Catia had used the wall to scramble to her feet. “Voices! Paw steps!”

Felicia walked further into the home. Each object she touched gave her new information. It brought her the truth about her parents, and she could not understand how she had completely twisted the truth upside-down in her head all this time.

“We have to go!” Catia said. “Come!”

Felicia just walked on. Aria refused to get up, eyes closed.

Catia could not believe her blurry eyes. “We can flee. We can leave this city alive. Felicia! You taught me to keep hope. All that matters is now and the next thing you’ll try. So why aren’t you doing something!?”

Felicia swallowed and froze in the middle of the living room. She looked at Aria. “You betrayed my parents. Thanks to you I’ve lost them!”

“Nonsense! Long ago, with full agreement of the Companions left, I stole back the Book from your parents. I told your parents to move to a different continent and build a better life—for you, their daughter! But no, they used their knowledge from the Book to become rich, powerful criminals.”

“Why should the Companions determine who gets the Book!? Shouldn’t that knowledge be for everyone?”

Aria just kept shaking her head, disappointed beyond disappointed in Felicia.

Catia pulled on Aria’s wings, she dragged Felicia’s paws away from the soft carpet, but both of them refused to move.

“The Crows come! I hear them everywhere. And the—”

The front door was kicked in. All hallway candles were lit instantly by torches. More creatures flew into the home through the open window, moving too fast to recognize.

A crowd of animals entered the home and trampled all childhood memories of Felicia. They grabbed Aria first—she didn’t resist. It shook Felicia out of her daze, but that was clearly too late.

Catia lay on the floor, ill and helpless, and was almost forgotten. She was as small as she felt in the moment.

The trio was tied up and taken to the public square.

The Crows announced a fair Trial of Witches. Oh, how fair and just. Their long explanation ended in the judgment of burning at the stake.

“If they survive or extinguish the fire, we will know for sure they are witches!” they crowed. “If not, we admit our mistake and they go free.”

And very much dead.

The owl and the two cats were put on a pile of straw, their backs tied to a high wooden pole. Multiple torches set the dry blades of straw on fire.

Catia gave the animal crowd a final look—and saw her parents move through it, panicked, screaming their daughter’s name.

Catia was wide awake now, precisely when she didn’t want to be anymore. The flames almost licked her shaking paws. Over the din, she could clearly pick out her parent’s voices.

Aria did nothing. Drained of all hope, her skin seemingly drained of all color.

Felicia was in the same state.

“Do something!” Catia yelled. “All the Companions! I am in the presence of the two best chemists on the continent, and you do nothing?”

“What do you want us to do?” yelled Felicia. She finally moved, but only to evade the fire coming for her.

“Extinguish the fire! Protect us!”

“Are you stupid?” Felicia said bitterly. “If we survive, they’ll kill us anyway, for we have proven to be witches!”

“We’ll see then,” Catia said softly. “All that matters is today and the next thing we’ll try. Right?”

Felicia fell silent.

The fire was high enough now to take away their view of the spectators. The crackling drowned out the screaming audience. Still Catia thought she heard her parents, as if they stood on the pyre with her.

“It’s still hopeless for you,” Felicia mumbled, tears in her eyes. “Catia … you are incurable. There is no known medicine for it!”

Not true. That was Catia’s first thought. No, not true, nonsense, a joke, she refused, nature was lying.

But no, she would just be lying to herself. An illusion that would yield nothing. The only proper response was a simple question.

“So?”

Their bodies seemed close to boiling. Filthy fog filled their sore throats, creating endless chains of coughs.

Felicia shook her body until her pouch wasn’t on her back anymore, but around her middle.

“The Firebraid. The thing I made on my way to free Aria! If it touches fire, and maybe if I combine it with that other plant, it should …”

Catia reached forwards, bending the pole as much as it allowed, but couldn’t touch it.

“Ai!” The flames licked part of her tail. She shrunk, flat against the pole, to get a bit more distance.

Felicia couldn’t grab the ingredients herself.

They both looked at Aria.

“It will exist, dear owl,” Catia said. “And if you do this, you might be able to help still.”

She sighed and put her beak into the pouch. The Firebraid was in a bowl, shut tight by a wooden lid. As the trio hugged the pole even closer, Aria slowly and carefully undid the lid.

Catia twisted her tail around herself to prevent burning. Felicia shut her dry eyes against the smoke.

Aria lifted the bowl with her beak, still painfully slow and methodical. The steady hands of a chemist.

Then she threw a large splash of the substance over Felicia. The next one showered Catia, and the last one herself. The bowl was thrown to the flames and consumed immediately.

The sea of fire reached them. Red-orange flames aimed for all parts of their body, nipping at them, looking for parts to burn, as it brought the heat of a thousand suns.

All three closed their eyes. All three shrank and cleared their minds. And all three waited.

Until all the straw had burned, the fire ceased, and they lived.

Catia opened her eyes to see a silenced crowd, mouths open wide in astonishment.

“Well that is a first,” Fonza mumbled.

Catia’s parents screamed in relief and fought through the crowds, even fiercer than before. They’d almost reached the stake.

“Thus they are witches!” the Crows yelled. “It is proven! The evidence is there!”

The three witches were mostly wounded around their paws. The ropes that had bound them to the pile, had burned away in the fire, and so also scorched their skin.

They could try to flee—but they were surrounded on all sides.

“Witches always get the death penalty!” Fonza yelled. “Grab them!”

Half the crowd followed this command eagerly. The other half didn’t do anything, whispering to each other and pointing to Aria.

Catia’s parents jumped on top of the pyre with them. They kicked aside the black straw and slid over the thick layer of ash.

“Stop!” her mother yelled. “We are the family Cartin, nobles of the highest rank. Yes, you know us. We control your land and we give you food. Whoever touches a hair on our daughter’s head will regret it.”

Her father protectively took her and Falicia into his paws. Aria still didn’t move and didn’t care. Multiple Crows landed on the pole but didn’t attack yet.

Felicia looked betrayed. “Catia. You couldn’t have told me you are almost royalty?”

The crowd was undecided. Some walked away. Some repeated it was Aria, the Wise Owl, who had done so much for them and helped so many patients. Felicia and Catia had grown somewhat popular in the River District, with their funny jokes and helpful attitude.

Others repeated they were proven witches and crept closer, Fonza as their leader.

“Ah yes, that is exactly what witches would do! Become powerful and then abuse it!”

“Oh you believe witches do everything,” said Felicia.

To the left, in the distance, a large column of guards appeared. to check out the disturbance and to accompany the landlord in his golden wagon.

A different wagon appeared on the other side. But this one seemed to travel of its own accord, and was more like a home on wheels.

Fonza’s fur changed color to red in anger. She copied the shouts of the Crows.

“Grab them! Kill them!”

Half the crowd moved to attack. The other half didn’t just stay out of it, they actively blocked Fonza’s path. Exactly the animals that were all under the employment or protection of the family Cartin.

“Fine,” Fonza said. “We won’t touch your daughter, oh dear Cartin family, but the other two are still—”

“What did they do?” asked several animals in the crowd. “Try and make medicine for another animal? Enough to kill The Wise Owl, of all creatures?”

“Out of my way!” Fonza bit some of the crowd members blocking her and created a path for herself to grab Felicia.

The landlord arrived. The wolf stepped from his wagon and found chaos. Having heard none of what preceded, and the Crows and Cartin family both giving different accounts of what had happened, he didn’t dare decide anything.

“The rules around Trials of Witches are clear,” he spoke slowly. “So—”

“If you don’t forbid it, then the execution continues!” the Crows decided for him.

Screams of “No!” and “Let them go!” erupted from the crowd. The landlord stepped back, safe behind a circle of guards, his eyes wild and anxious.

In the end, still confused, he quickly choose the safe side. “I mean, I stand by the family Cartin! They are right. All these assumed witches are under their protection.”

More and more animals walked away. You would never win a fight against the elite. They had freedoms and protections that the poor inhabitants could only dream of.

Only the fiercest of them remained. And they accepted none of this.

Fonza opened her mouth and lurched forward. Felicia would fit inside it entirely; Aria reacted to nothing anymore. A trio of wolves jumped with her to grab Felicia from the back.

Their shadows fell over the terrified puss. A wolf claw scratched a deep wound into her face.

And then they were all blown away by a wooden home on wheels that drove straight into them.

The wolves landed against a tree. Fonza landed in the river and swam for her life. The wagon acted like a wall between the pyre and the others.

A small chimpanzee, with stubs instead of fully grown limbs, rolled from the wagon.

“Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said.

The landlord was furious and the Crows awaited his commands. This was clearly an attempt at murder from the chimpanzee! Things were getting worse and worse!

But the crowd, which outnumbered them easily and represented the actual wishes of the city, loved The Good Chef and wanted complete freedom for these witches.

And so we see, dear reader, that peer pressure can be terrible and mean, but also the only way to achieve good against all odds. To sway injustice to justice, to force others to behave in a way that is less selfish.

The landlord went back into his golden coach and left. “I saw nothing and none of this happened. Take care of them, Chef.”

Felicia, Catia and Aria all fainted from relief at the same time.

They had all advised Felicia—begged her—not to do it. She did it anyway. She went to visit the landlord, to tell the truth and come clean. That is what she had to be, even if her parents weren’t—especially because her parents weren’t, wherever they may be. Honest and open, an example to others.

“A month ago,” she said formally, “a female dog named Dora was tested and convicted of being a witch. This was done purely because I claimed to witness her practicing witchcraft.”

The landlord received some documents from his assistants. He quickly read it and nodded.

“That was a lie.” She cast her eyes downward. “I had never seen her before in my life.”

He frowned and leaned forward. “The Crows state that five more eyewitnesses followed immediately. They swore it on the holy book, the Bjib. You claim that everyone lied? That is a severe misdeed.”

“I admit mistakes,” she said softly. “I think that’s the first step to not making the mistakes again in the future.”

The wolf walked up to her. He barked and mumbled to himself. His large front paws pushed hers into the floor, his face right up to hers.

“If I ask,” he said, “would you point out those other liars?”

Her breathing quickened. They had given her food and a roof over her head, even Fonza who had been fished from the River—alive and well.

“With a heavy heart, yes.”

His frown deepened. “You would protect those who hunted you and put you on a burning pyre?”

“Maybe,” Felicia said cautiously, “the bigger problem is that animals who could stop it still let it happen.”

The wolf grunted. He turned back to his throne, which tried to be impressive but failed spectacularly. “Oh don’t even start with me. Those Companions have never done anything for our city, and Chef always comes too late!”

Felicia stood up with a sigh. The landlord was just the next animal keeping an illusion alive for himself. She’d solve that some other time.

“May I go?”

“I should sentence you to death,” the wolf said, suddenly serious. “But they’ve all asked me to let you go.”

“That, well, that is nice,” she said with a wavering voice.

“They are wrong,” the landlord said. “But they are numerous. Go.”

The landlord seemed more interested in the tasty food in front of him and his butt on a soft throne.

She breathed a sigh of relief and walked home—Catia’s home. Villa. No, estate. She was a daughter of Cartin! They owned half the lands surrounding the city and commanded thousands of workers. She smiled at the idea that, somehow, the two cats had crossed paths.

And she was now allowed to live in that beautiful place, with much nicer parents.

When she entered, she first found Chef and Aria having an argument.

“You’ve brought the Book to shame,” Chef said. “You don’t deserve it. It was stolen from me first, so I take it back.”

“And how did you get it?” Aria asked. “It’s Bella’s book, not yours.”

“You’re right. Shall I return it to the dead goddess who could not save the owls?”

Aria jumped from her place and yelled: “Don’t you dare start about that!”

Chef grinned mischievously. “Ah. Just wanted to see if you still had some fire in you. Perhaps you’ll be fine after all.”

The Book of Meaning had returned to the chimpanzee’s loving arms. “Maybe knowledge is a curse. Maybe there are illnesses that cannot be cured.”

She looked at Catia, who slept on the carpet, curled up and softly meowing. “But the only way to solve it, is to keep looking every day for more knowledge.”

Or as the wise Ardex once wrote down, dear reader: no growth without defeat. No progress without setbacks, no successes without failures. Though I obviously still wish, every day, with all my heart, that the godchildren had never been defeated and removed from Somnia.

She nudged Felicia. “Have you already tried the Thunder Medicine?”

“Yes, first thing.”

“And Simmersauce? Maybe a Cricket Treatment?”

Felicia nodded, losing her last sliver of hope again. “Did all of that, yes.”

But Chef smiled. “Great! Then we don’t have to try that anymore. Now that we know what doesn’t work, we’ll find the correct treatment for Catia much sooner.”

She waggled back to her wooden home on wheels and rummaged through it. “I have some odd plants left from my adventure with the Lionking. Oh, yes, you have to hear this story! So we were in Slumberland, the empire of the sloths, and then …”

“Chef, great story,” Felicia said. “But how did you know to come here?”

Chef just continued her anecdote as if she hadn’t been interrupted.

Aria stood up and tested her wings. “Maybe … maybe my perfect heaven can still exist. We just don’t have the knowledge, technology, or resources yet. I thought the Companions would be the solution to everything. Giving all animals one vote over every decision. But maybe it was just too soon.”

She put on all three glasses at once. “Maybe I can still do something to help there.”

She said a quick goodbye and flew into the clear blue sky.

Catia cracked open one eye. “Oh woe is me, what hear my ears, must I swallow more medicine, that brings me to filthy tears?”

Felicia smiled and lay down next to her on the warm carpet. “Only if you want.”

“Bring it on. In a week I’ll run faster across the rooftops than you ever did.”

Chef returned with a grocery list of ingredients that they needed, ready to save Catia before it was too late.

“Let’s start.”

And so it was that life continued …