Once upon a time in the little village of Inglewood Hamlet, there lived a shapeshifter.

This was nothing out of the ordinary for the little village, nor even the entire Kingdom. It was rife with magic. Strange things have been known to happen to its villagers and, according to the old oracle woman that lives on the edge of town, magic always had something to do with it. She would be glad to tell you all about it; I think she’d even have a piece of pie and a hot cuppa tea ready for you in a jiffy.

There were some days he was a lamp to give light to the librarian who was having trouble seeing lately, or he’d be a cat for the girl that so desperately wanted a cat of her own. It was young Mr. and Mr. Gladius’ youngest. They lived in the centre of town and the two men ran the local bar and bedsit. They were very kind parents, but they were often very busy. He kept Anna company when he knew she was loneliest.

He would often go by the orphanage and help our where he could. He would change into a dog that would go around and see each child that lived there and let them pet him and he would sit with them for a bit until each of them had a smile on their face. He would turn into a quill so that the teacher who was always losing her own could continue teaching.

Long ago, he had tried to find the reason that he could change into either beast or inanimate object as being able to do both defied what he knew as possible. Then he decided that it didn’t matter and swore that he would lend his gift to those in need. No thought went toward his own needs as he got joy from giving to those around him.

That’s why the girl who could change herself into a blackbird had him so curious.

He had never met another shapeshifter before. He had met plenty of fey folk, others who were capable of all kinds of magics, but never another who could change the shape of their bodies. From what he could tell, she could only turn herself into a blackbird. He had been observing her for so long that one night he was surprised to find that he could not find her.

She was not in her usual haunts. He had checked the book and scroll shop and the birds in the park that liked to flock together in the rowan trees that filled the centre square of Inglewood Hamlet. He had even taken the form of a Raven, hoping that it would make it easier to find her.

So intent was he to find the blackbird girl that he didn’t even notice when she flew down beside him. “You know, if you’re going to follow someone around, you should be polite and tell them why.”

Jumping back, he had to flap his wings a few times until he could settle down again. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll stop.”

“I didn’t say stop,” she said, letting out a caw. “How about we start with your name.”

He was taken aback. No one had asked him his name for so long, but they were keen to give him one if they needed to. He thought of all the different names he had been called as a stray cat or dog he even thought briefly of the favourite books he had become. “You know, I’ve always loved the name Milo.”

“Well, Milo, it’s a pleasure to meet another shifter. My name is Kimberlee.” She gave him a smile that came through in the sudden gleam in her eyes. “I take it you saw me stealing bread from Messer’s Don and Juan.”

He nodded. “I saw you swoop down and steal a loaf of bread as a bird from their bakery cart and slip into the form of a girl as you walked away.” Milo said.

“I figured; I could feel you watching. You were the candle flame in in the light box on the end of first street, weren’t you? It had been burning brighter than usual.”

“Mr. Lewis hadn’t ordered the right number of matches, and he wasn’t able to light me. I could feel him getting worried and then frantic, so I quickly changed into a flame.” Milo explained. “I didn’t want him to be upset, or people to lose their way without the flame to guide them.”

“Are you always so kind hearted?” Another smile came through in her eyes and she hopped closer to him.

He ruffled his feathers. “I try to be.”

“Good, there needs to be more kindness in the world. But don’t forget to be kind to yourself,” she said to him gently.”

“I’m not sure I know how. I have been helping others for as long as I can remember. I didn’t even know what my name was until you asked me.”

There was a startled from the other blackbird and then he watched as she began to change. To Milo, it looked like she was knitting herself together with pieces of the land and sky around her, painting her face with the clouds and the limbs of the trees around them.

He blinked and the girl was sitting in front of him. She held out her hand and he hopped into it. “What’s your real form?”

“I’ve forgotten,” Milo said. “I’ve been everything for everyone else for so long that I’ve forgotten where I begin and end.”

Kimberlee held him up to her eyes.  “Try and think back. Do you remember what you looked like before you ever changed? Did you parents ever take a photograph of you? My parents took so many of me when I was a child that I could paper the walls with pictures of myself.”

Nodding, Milo tried to think backwards. His mothers pride was her photos. She had called them memory keepers. He seemed to remember a small boy with brown hair and brown eyes, but there was a tinkle in the eyes that matched the smile.

“Do you have the image in your head?” Kimberlee asked him gently.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good, now see if you can choose yourself as you would choose to be one of the other objects that you have been.”

“I can’t,” he said.

“You can. Just choose yourself, it’s that easy.”

He let out a little caw and tried to hold on to the picture of himself that he had in his mind. He looked at the boy he had forgotten to be and wondered how long it had been since he had held his true form. For all he knew, he was older than the child that he could see within him, but how was he to know?

It wasn’t that his eyes were closed, necessarily, but one moment he was a raven and the next, he was that boy, dressed in clothes that looked like they had been made by leaves. His hair was falling into his eyes and when he raised his hand to brush his hair off his forehead did he realize that he was a boy again.

Kimberlee looked at him, that kindness he had seen in the crows eyes bright in her human ones. “Nice to meet you, Milo.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“It get’s easier each time you change shape to lose yourself. You tend to give away a piece of yourself when you first start changing shape.”

“Were you a crow for a long time the first time you shifted?” Milo asked.

“Yes, at fist because I didn’t know how to change back. Then, because I enjoyed it so much. However, I soon found myself within myself, and have been changing back and forth ever since. I’ve never met a shape shifter like you before, able to change into anything.”

“Can you only change into a blackbird?”

She nodded with a happy smile. “Just a crow shape for me, I’m afraid. But it’s all I ever wanted, really. I’ve gotten to see the world and experience so many things.”

“But don’t you miss home?” Milo asked.

Kimberlee’s eyes darkened for a moment, her face filled with a sadness he hadn’t noticed before. Then she blinked and when she looked at Milo, she was giving him another kind look. “Don’t you?” She asked.

Standing, Kimberlee tilted her head to the sky so that she could smell the wind. Milo did the same and knew that it was changing course. He could feel the wind as it moved along his skin, begging him to join it and fly to somewhere new. He looked at Kimberlee, understanding dawning within him.

“You’re going away.”

“It’s all I know,” she said. “You know well the life of an artist. Always onward to the next mountain, a new river, an unknown terrain.”

“How will I find you again?”

“Give me a feather,” she said.

He held out his right arm and he watched as a scattering of feathers appeared there. He chose one for her and presented it like a gift. She did the same and let a black crow’s feather fall from her fingers into his left palm.

“When we have need for each other, we will always be able to find other. We won’t be far apart that way. Us shifters have to stick together.”

“Thank you,” Milo said, tucking the feather in his coat pocket.

“Now, don’t you have a home to find?” She asked.

“I don’t know where it is,” Milo said. “I’ve looked everywhere for it but can’t find it.”

“Have you looked within yourself?” She asked gently. She began to change softly, letting the threads that she had knitted herself together with fall away gently. “If you look at the photo of yourself long enough, you will be able to find your way home.”

With a movement of the clouds and a scattering of stars, Kimberlee stood in front of him, her feathers bright with shadows that have swallowed the light. She let the wind take her and Milo stood watching Kimberlee fly away but he could feel the crows feather inside of his coat shining against his body.

He looked at the streets of Inglewood Hamlet. Closing his eyes, he looked at the photograph of himself that he carried. When he opened his eyes, he knew where to go. There was a line of gold mist that curved itself along the cobblestone streets leading the way to where he belonged.

Taking the shape of a raven once more, Milo followed the gold line towards home.

Or so the story goes….