When Miriam came to and opened her eyes, she immediately slammed them shut again. Her head exploded with fireworks, and her ankle burned with familiar fire. Another sprain. She'd had so many as a kid that the x-ray tech at the local hospital knew her by name. But how?

A large hand grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. "Glad you're awake, and I'm not the only one. You have quite the menagerie, and they all insisted on staying with you. Let me fix the light for you." The hand retreated, and the fiery glow prying at her eyelids faded to a warm glimmer.

Miriam squinted her eyes open, letting them fly wide open when the dim illumination of the bedside lamp did not stab her pupils. The giant shopkeeper perched on a too-small straight-back wooden chair beside the bed where she rested, and she belatedly recognized his voice from a moment ago. The other occupants of the room were only vaguely more familiar than the seated man, and no less welcome.

A pillow tucked beneath her head and shoulders allowed her to survey the bed without shifting, and she was grateful, for the sight before her was fascinating and fragile. The pink deer and the over-large Siamese cat snuggled on either side of her extended legs, and the navy colored coyote sat attentively at her feet. The four birds sat in the shallow valley between her legs arranged by size: the silver lark closest to her waist, and the green hawk closest to her ankles, with the white raven and the pastel macaw taking up the space between. All fourteen eyes regarded her with curiosity, and the lark's gaze held a measure of what she could only describe as relief.

"I think the only reason they allowed me in your SUV was that I had just saved your life, and the cat and the coyote growled at me the entire drive here. Your story must be true, if you have such loyal friends, even if they are a bit strange."

At the shopkeeper's words, the mentioned creatures flicked narrowed eyes at the man and gave him an encore. He and Miriam laughed a little in response, though hers was cut short by a stab of fresh pain in her skull. The giant leapt to his feet and paced away from the bed, almost immediately out of sight from the bed.

"I plumb forgot about your injuries. I'll be right back with something to help. Stay there!" His retreating footfalls thundered between Miriam's ears, and she sank back into the comfortable bed and closed her eyes.

A tap on the back of her hand encouraged Miriam to pry her eyelids open again. As she did, a wooden tray with short sturdy legs appeared over her lap, laden with cutlery, fresh red-flecked biscuits, a bowl of pale blue soup, a white mug of clear green tea, a glass of water, and two tablets she recognized at once as over the counter pain meds. Most of the contents of the tray released individual clouds of steam, filling the air with aromas so delicious her stomach growled instinctively.

The shopkeeper chuckled. "Glad to know you aren't put off by the fare. I took a chance that you might enjoy some of my new favorite foods; had you been alone, I wouldn't have bothered."

At that moment, she realized her menagerie had vanished, leaving only a few feathers and bits of hair to mark their former presence. She gasped in panic and sat up so fast she jostled the tray, causing the liquids to splash over the sides of their containers. The man beside her wrapped his large hand around her upper arm.

"Easy, now. Your friends are fine. They're in the next room enjoying their own meals. They'll be back once they finish. You're all safe here. You dig in now; I'll check on you in a few minutes and answer your questions then." He paused before adding, "I hope you can answer some of mine, too." Then he was gone.

Miriam didn't hesitate to pick up a spoon and plunge it into the soup. A close sniff of the thick blue liquid told her it might taste like tomatoes, so she blew on it twice to cool the fluid and sipped a few drops from the spoon. True to the aroma, the rich flavor of garden-grown tomatoes flooded her mouth, along with a healthy tingle of bell peppers. The combination was perfectly balanced, and Miriam drained half the bowl before taking a break to explore the other offerings on the tray.

The sweet biscuits delighted her tongue with bits of blueberry-flavored fruit, and the tea bathed her mouth with raspberries and cream. Even the glass of water revealed itself to be more than it initially appeared; when she took a mouthful of the clear liquid to swallow the pain pills, a hint of spearmint washed away the chalky flavor of the tablets.

Miriam added a few questions about her meal to her growing list of questions. I had hoped this road trip would answer some questions; instead, I have no answers and more inquiries than ever.

Before she realized it, the tray on her lap held only empty containers, and she leaned back to give her full stomach a little more room. A firm knock on the door startled her and rattled the dishes on the tray. Miriam took a deep breath to settle her jangling nerves and called out, "Come in!"

A flurry of pattering footsteps and fluttering wings accompanied the opening of the door, and in moments, her menagerie of unusual friends had resumed their former positions around her, nearly knocking the food tray off her lap. Before her fingers could steady it, one massive hand grasped the tray's edge and lifted it away.

"Whoops! I'll just take this to the kitchen so your pets have more room."

The shopkeeper returned and sat in the sturdy chair next to the bed. "I know you're likely wondering what's happened, both to you and to this town, eh?" At her nod, he continued, "Save your breath for a bit, lass. I'll get you caught up on the last week or so up to when you woke up, and then ask your questions. After that, I have some questions for you, if you're up to answering. Is that fair to you?"

"Sounds fair." She smiled and added, "Thank you for the food. It was delicious."

He beamed back. "I'm glad it hit the spot. I know the colors are a bit off, but I've been eating the stuff for almost a week and haven't been poisoned yet, and the flavors beat anything 'normal' coming out of my garden recently." He shrugged. "I guess the garden is the place to start, since there's where the changes began. I usually keep a small patch of vegetables right behind the house, and a week ago, some new sprouts appeared around my planned plants. By the next day they were full grown and in bloom, but the flowers were all shades of neon, like someone cut up an 80's windbreaker to make them. The day after that, all the blossoms had been replaced with strange fruits, and my regular plants had shriveled up. You already know I started eating the things, and that they didn't kill me."

He winked, then cleared his throat. "After that, they started appearing after dark, things like the wraith that attacked you tonight. The first night, they were small, like mice, and every night since larger ones have joined them. Last night, one about the size of an elephant tried to tear the roof off of my shop. They attack whatever they please, leaving long deep scratches on anything they touch."

Miriam's gaze shot to the silver lark, who stood and shook out his wings; the purple wound emerged from his back feathers and made her wince in sympathy. Though still ugly, a blackish scab now covered the slash, and the surrounding feathers no longer sported blackened tips. The bird turned and met her eyes; he flicked his stare to the shopkeeper and back to Miriam before slowly nodding his head. With a shudder, he tucked his wings and feet close and dropped to huddle with the white raven and gold eagle again.

Wide-eyed, Miriam looked at the shopkeeper with growing horror. "Are you saying that one of those...things...hurt the lark?"

The giant nodded. "It's very likely. I've helped tend many wounds from those monsters, and your friend's scratch looked the same. I tended it as we tend the wraith's damage, and it worked well. Your lark appears to have visited our town, and recently, which is all the more odd, in that you and your herd are the only visitors I have seen since all this started. I have gotten so used to only talking to townsfolk, I completely forgot to warn you about the dark beasts that come out at twilight."

He sighed. "I saw that one leap for you as I locked up. I aimed my flashlight at its eyes to scare it away and carried you to your car. Your animals made room for you in the back and let me drive you to my house. Your vehicle is safe inside my garage, ready for you whenever you are ready to leave, though I hope you choose to stay the night. Even bright lights don't scare the biggest wraiths much, and I would hate for something to happen to you out there."

A memory of the black not-panther soaring through the air, wispy green eyes filling hers with visions of a grisly death, curled her face into a grimace and sent a shudder through her frame. When she spoke, the croaking whisper resembled her voice only in passing.

"I think I'll stay here until morning, thank you."

A couple of gulping breaths, each let out over several seconds, restored a measure of control to her mind and body, just as the shopkeeper leaned forward, resting wide elbows on wider knees.

"Glad to hear it. If you're ready, ask whatever questions you still have, and make 'em quick, if you can. You need some more rest tonight, and I have several questions of my own. Our plans after that will depend on your answers, so let's get started."