Margo was sure the explosion was an accident. The white-walled facility was home to one-hundred and ninety-six subjects, all of whom were highly dangerous magic users. Their ages ranged from two to twenty, leaving room for a lot of “adolescent angst” as the Doctor called it.

  “Stay ten for me, Margo,” the Doctor once said with a sigh. “I don't think my heart can take another melodramatic teen.”

  Margo watched through a small window in her door as the heavily-armored Facilitators flocked together. Their bubbled helmets gave nothing away, faces obscured by an opaque white shell. She hugged her legs closer to her chest, already drifting back into her daydreams. If only she could cause explosions like that, like her siblings were so prone to. Margo just wasn’t powerful enough. It made her nibble at her fingernails in frustration.

  She knew how to do the basics, like summoning rock formations from the ground or creating small flames at her fingertips, but she couldn't run faster than the wind like her sister Freiya, or create tidal waves from condensation like her brother Neipus. According to the Doctor, her true magic-- the magic her body was born knowing-- simply hadn't matured yet.

  “But why?” Margo had whined during the appointment, swinging her legs impatiently as she sat on the examination table. “Everyone else got theirs when they were babies!”

  The Doctor raised an eyebrow at that, giving Margo a quizzical look over her thin, emerald-green spectacles. “Who told you that?”

  “Terra,” Margo said with a pout.

  “Terra didn't get hers until she was thirteen,” the Doctor corrected with a gentle smile. She set aside her clipboard to pat Margo on the head. Looking up at the Doctor from below always stunned Margo, because the way the fluorescent lights shimmered through her orange curls made her look like a fairy straight out of the ancient scrolls in the library.

  The Doctor sat down on the exam table, wrapping a tender arm around Margo's shoulders. “Everyone finds their true magic exactly when they need to, and not a moment before. Just be patient, Margo. It'll come to you.”

  “What if it never does?”

  “Then I guess you'll just have to be my little nurse forever,” the Doctor replied, poking Margo’s cheek with a grin. “Unless that's too boring for you…”

  “N-no!” Margo said, hugging the Doctor's waist and squeezing as tight as she could. “I love helping you.”

  Which wasn’t technically a lie, she did love helping the Doctor. But at night, she dreamed about the outside world, the heroes and monsters she read about under the covers at night. Once, she had held her flaming finger too close to a book, and the illustrated depiction of the evil mage went up in smoke. How easy it had been to vanquish the stuff of nightmares, the page burned to ash by her very hands. Wouldn’t it be even easier to do it for real? She’d make a perfect hero, she thought. All she needed was a chance.

  The second explosion rattled her confines. The ground shook, and the thin metal legs of her cot wobbled and shook her in her blankets. Startled, Margo crept out of her bed, sneaking towards the door on tip-toes. One explosion was an accident, but two? Two was a problem. The Facilitators were highly skilled when it came to containing and resolving outbursts. They specialized in various forms of enchanted restraints and tranquilizers, breaking through any kind of magical barrier with ease and subduing whichever subject had decided to throw a tantrum. For as long as Margo had been alive, they had kept the peace with an iron thumb.

  But as she peered through the window, there was no one in sight. The sound of footsteps had grown eerily silent after the second blast, and not a single Facilitator emerged from the end of the corridor. She tried the knob on the door, but as usual, it was still locked. Margo shrugged, mumbling to herself. “Must be one big mess, I guess.”

  Then, a white blob whizzed past her door, bouncing once against the ground before crashing into the ceiling, hanging from the newly created hole left by the impact. Margo’s eyes grew wide with shock as she recognized a pair of bloodied, broken legs dangling from the mass. Her mouth dropped as a second body rocketed from the same direction, slamming into the floor with a visceral crack. As the Facilitator landed, Margo could see a gaping hole had been left behind in the helmet, revealing a mangled mess of bone and gore. It was as though someone had reached through and grabbed them directly by the face, shredding it with long, pointy nails. A third, fourth, fifth and sixth corpse joined, piling up and blocking the bottom of Margo’s door entirely. The blood had begun to spray the window with each toss.

  Margo stumbled back, covering her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she should cry for help or just hide. Were they coming for her next? She couldn’t be sure. But if the Facilitators couldn’t handle whatever was attacking, Margo certainly couldn’t.

  A third, much closer explosion rang out. Something was pounding at the wall nearby, cracks erupting before Margo’s very eyes. Then, her panic seemed to settle into silence, as a bold realization dawned on her. Wasn’t this how every hero’s journey started? The underdog no one believed in stands up to the overwhelming force to the bitter end. This was the chance she was looking for, it had to be.

  She stood on shaky legs, clenching her fists tight. The pounding grew more frantic, then, just as Margo took in a final, brave breath, a pale fist shot through the center and sent the whole wall crumbling down.

  On the other side were two of her siblings. They bore the same wily pink hair as Margo, though they were much taller and older, and their gray uniforms were covered in splatters of blood and viscera. The girl-- the one who had broken the wall-- coughed as the dust settled.

  “This way?” she asked, not even acknowledging Margo.

  “That way,” the boy behind her said bluntly, pointing to the wall behind Margo’s cot. The girl she didn’t recognize, but the boy had started coming into the Doctor’s office a few days ago. He would sit on the exam table and sulk silently as the Doctor injected him with all sorts of fluids. Margo always thought he was just a poor sport about getting shots. But here he was, bursting through walls and killing Facilitators without a look of remorse.

  The girl climbed over Margo’s cot and began punching the wall.

  “Hey w-wait,” Margo called shakily. The boy patted her on the shoulder, pulling her back into him. His arms were locked around her, an uncomfortable sort of hug.

  “Don’t get in our way,” he said softly. “You saw what we did. I don’t want to have to throw you in with the rest.”

  Margo knew it was a threat. She had seen the contorted corpses, the bits of bone piercing flesh and uniform alike. But there was something warm about the boy’s tone that made a small part of her believe that the most heroic thing she could do was let them go.

  “Where are you going?” Margo asked, just as the girl broke the wall and revealed the sunlit forest just on the other side. The blue sky above boasted a plethora of fluffy white clouds, rolling by as the boy stepped over the rubble to join the girl on the outside. He had never looked at Margo before, keeping his head down during the Doctor’s examinations, but now he smiled at her.

  He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he raised a hand to wave goodbye, and the two sprinted off between the trees. Margo watched until they were two bobbing, pink specs in the distance, mouth dropped in wonder.

  “They really did it,” a low voice murmured behind her. “They really left.”

  Margo turned to see several of the other subjects slipping in through the hole in her wall, staring out to the outside. There were gasps and whispers, an air of uncertainty clouding the remnants of her room. Margo reached a hand out, feeling the warmth of the sun filter through. The monsters tearing through her bedroom walls wasn’t the heroic opportunity she thought it was, but perhaps the hole they had left behind was.

  She took a step into the light. From behind, she could hear the other subjects beginning to follow, some protesting with whispered concerns.

  “We don’t know what’s out there,” an older boy said.

  “What about the Facilitators?”

  “What about the Doctor?”

  Margo hesitated. She stood on the last of the crumbling wall, inches away from the wild grass she had only read about all her life. She could feel the breeze blowing through her air, too swift to hold in her fingers but enticing nonetheless. Some of the other subjects had begun to pass her, darting off into the woods without a word to one another. They had spent all of their lives crammed into the same den; even Margo felt that was more than enough of her life shared. She looked back one last time over her shoulder. Maybe the Doctor would be there watching her, a test of the patience she had once asked Margo to have. But the hall beyond the exodus of subjects and siblings was empty. Instead, there was only a dripping crimson handprint left on the wall to bid her farewell.

  Margo turned back to the world outside, and made her way out.

  …

  Living in the woods gave Margo the opportunity to do things she had never done before. She ran through a creek, feeling the cool water trickle around her ankles. She shivered as her grey tunic failed to protect her from the cold wind that blew after, but the experience was invigorating. She carried a large stick, swinging it around and attacking the trunks of trees, practicing her heroic poses every now and then. There were thick, thorny bushes that sprouted in bunches of plump red berries, which she shoved into her mouth by the handful. Sometimes they made the inside of her mouth burn intensely, as though she had swallowed a mouthful of angry bugs instead, but the feeling usually subsided after a few hours, and the berries kept her growling stomach at bay, so that was all that mattered really.

  At night, she slept under the trees, listening to the night wind howl through the woods. She dreamed of people chanting her name, hoisting her on their shoulders and carrying her through a glittering white palace. Inside a golden throne awaited her, where the Doctor held an ornate crown on a red velvet pillow.

  “I’m so proud of you Margo,” she would whisper, kissing Margo’s forehead as she placed the crown on her head. Someone would tie a beautiful cape around her neck, and it was only when Margo raised her scepter to speak that the wonderful dream finally came to an end. As she traveled through the woods, she’d practice her noble speeches for the trees.

  “And justice!!” She would shout triumphantly. “Peace and justice for all my people!”

  She wasn’t sure how she would go about keeping justice or peace, but it sounded like the sort of thing people in need of rescue might want to hear. Of course, she couldn’t know until she met them, and the only thing the forest lacked besides cleaner water and non-mouth-burning berries was people. Margo was beginning to feel lonely as each day passed by.

  Four days after she had run from the facility, Margo was traversing the darker parts of the forest. The berries she had seen before were scarce in this area, and her stomach growled with discomfort.

  A twig snapped to her right. Margo’s body tensed, and she snapped her head towards the noise. Slowly, she moved towards it, unsure if it was the helpless civilians she had been searching for, or a monster in need of slaying. In her mind, it could only be one or the other. Another twig snapped ahead. She knelt down, crouching behind a set of moss-covered rocks. Margo leaned her neck out to catch a glimpse of the noise’s source.

  On the other side of the rocks was a small pond, with yellow flowers blooming around the edges. The tall, dark wooded trees blocked out most of the light in this part of the forest, but Margo could make out a shock of red dipping into the pond, with a set of four, black furry paws on the sides. The fox pulled back, sitting on its hind legs and licking its snout with a long pink tongue.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Despite her calm, careful exterior, something inside Margo shifted upon seeing the fox. It was as if her bones were shaking out of place. Her chest surged with a series of sharp, hard pains, and as she looked down, she could see her ribs shifting under her tunic.

  Her yelp immediately caught the attention of the fox. It growled, snout lowered to glower at her. From its forepaws erupted tendrils of green vines braided together, with yellow thorns sprouting from all sides. Margo pulled herself into a ball behind the stone, but the vines crawled over and restrained her. The pain was blinding, bones snapping underneath the thorns. She tried to free herself, attempting to summon a fire, but as she stretched her arm out it twisted and bent backwards. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the fox finally made its way around the rock.

  Then, something strange happened. The vines released their hold on Margo, laying her gently back on the ground. She could feel the fox nuzzling into her cheek, eagerly lapping up her spilled tears. The fox whined until she opened her eyes. The world seemed bigger now, Margo realized, and her limbs felt much lighter than before. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t work as they did before. Instead, she remained on her fours. Looking down, she saw that where her hands once were there were now black paws, fading to fluffy pink fur. She tucked her head between them, noticing the same of her legs, and catching the bizarre sight of a swishing tail at the end. To her surprise, she had suddenly become a fox.

  The fox growled, a noise she somehow knew meant to follow it. On shaky legs-- or paws, she now supposed-- Margo obeyed, trotting behind as the fox led her through the thicket. Through her new eyes, she could see clearer, the darkness of the forest no longer an issue. She wove around fallen logs and branches with total ease. Her voice was gone now, but she could bark and yelp, the high pitch tone a wonder to her own pointy ears. The fox barked when she had gotten too loud. Once she had whimpered a half-hearted apology, they continued on, stopping before a small den of mud and vines.

  Inside, a female fox laid with her four baby pups. Their tiny eyes were closed tight, shivering into their mother for attention. She nudged them with her snout, keeping them close with her bushy tail. She didn’t seem to mind Margo’s presence, inviting Margo to come closer for warmth. The other fox followed behind, settling behind the mother and resting its head on her neck. Margo reluctantly curled in, tucking herself in tightly around the pups. They squirmed under her touch, but the mother fox growled, commanding them to behave in a tone much like the Doctor’s. The familiarity tugged at Margo’s heart.

  But that night, as she lay in the den with the kind foxes, Margo felt her mind whirl with an urge she couldn’t control. Her thoughts were melding with that of a predator, something neither girl nor fox. She was hungry, and not for berries. The cubs twitched under her, clearly annoyed with her fidgeting, and one pushed itself further towards its mother and closer to Margo’s drooling mouth.

  She didn’t even have time to think before her bottom jaw dropped wide open and captured the squeaking cub. She could feel it scramble inside her, fighting her rows of sharp teeth, but the struggle was over in an instant as more pointed teeth emerged from her gums and punctured it whole. Her body wasn’t just changing on a whim, it was adapting to her needs, and Margo needed to eat.

  The mother fox woke up with a start. Terror filled her beady eyes, and she barked wildly. The walls of mud were stretching out on her command, the fox’s magic clearly trying to protect her, but Margo tore through it with a newfound strength. She sunk her teeth into the helpless mother and shook her till her body was hung limp between Margo’s teeth. She could feel her body expanding, shaking the den as she grew larger and larger. She swallowed the mother fox whole, sucking the blood off of her teeth.

  The other fox whimpered and whined, desperate to run, but Margo reached out one massive paw and swatted at it. Its body crumpled under her touch, its midsection indented with a great pawprint. She pried it up gingerly between her claws, her forepaws molting into a three-fingered hand.

  Hunger satiated, Margo shrunk back down to the ground. The den stood in ruins all around her, lit by the full moon above. The last three pups made no noise as she lay her head down on the ground. She pulled them into her with one arm, curling them into the curve of her neck. Margo draped her arm over their cold bodies protectively. She could still make out patches of pink fur receding back to skin. What did she look like now? Her face felt human, but her lower body still seemed to belong to that of a fox. She imagined some sort of beastly in between, her second row of teeth still sitting sharp on her tongue. Margo willed them to go away, and slowly, they retracted and vanished. Back in the facility, she had known who she wanted to be, but now she really couldn’t tell what she even was anymore.

  “I’m a hero,” she whispered. Then again, with a miserable sob, “I’m a hero.”

  The three pups remained completely motionless in her arms.

  …

  The next day, Margo woke up feeling like herself again. She threw the pups into the pond, barked her best attempt at a fox eulogy, and continued walking. Though the image of the horrified fox mother kept her up at night, she couldn’t deny she felt better. Stronger even. After a week of practice, she found she could transform back into her fox form on purpose, which she found incredibly helpful when navigating after the sun had set. At first, the experience was terribly painful, and she dreaded the feeling of every bone in her body snapping into place. But as she transformed each time, her body seemed to grow more and more malleable to the change, and soon the sensation dulled to a soft ache. It was all a growing pain before, she thought, just like the Doctor said children her age often experienced. How proud she’d be to hear how smart Margo was becoming.

  Over time, the trees began to clear, and soon Margo found herself standing in a grassy field as long as the eye could see. Flowers bloomed up to meet her fingers. She felt the wild grass give way to her legs as she ran through it, laughing ecstatically. A small shadow flying overhead caught her attention, and in an instant she wasn’t running at all, but spreading her short pink wings out into the sky.

  As a bird, she swooped and soared, tracing figure-eights in the air until the sun was fading out to an orange glow. Knowing she’d need somewhere to stay, Margo quickly climbed higher, looking out across the fields when she heard the distant sounds of shouting.

  Curious, she steered her attention towards it, noticing a group of three figures down by a sparkling river. She dove down to get a better look, landing upon a nearby rock sticking out of the water.

  The three boys looked to be around her age. Two were dressed in shimmering red and gold garbs: the taller boy was thin and lanky, with thick brown hair that rounded his head neatly. The pudgier, stout one was blonde, picking his nose behind the first boy.

  The third boy was completely different from the other two. He stood across from them in a dirty green cloak, with a stoic look and a long dark braid hanging over his shoulder. Shorter strands of hair curled into his pale, freckled face, his narrow nose red at the tip with anger.

  “Told you what I’d do to you if you came back here,” the tall brunette shouted. Margo could see a heavy green satchel in his hands, a leaf insignia carved into the leather front.

  “Blem scum,” the pudgy boy added, flicking his snot towards the river.

  “Give it back,” the other boy said, stepping forward to try and take the satchel. The tall boy held it over him mockingly.

  “Think I’ll toss it in the river instead. Don’t you think Harry?”

  “Please, I swear I won’t come back, I just--” the cloaked boy sighed, frowning with distress. “I just needed the water. I won’t come back, I’ll just leave. I promise.”

  “A Blem’s word’s as good as his blood,” the tall one spat. He heaved the satchel into the air, launching it towards the river.

  Quickly, Margo flew up into the air, changing back into her human form just as she came into contact with the leather. She wrapped her arms around it and plummeted to the ground before the trio.

  “Don’t uh--” Margo stumbled over her words, feet wobbly from the sudden change. The transformation ache might not have been a problem, but moving from bird claw toes back to her human feet completely threw her off balance. “S-stop, villains!!”

  “Who’re you?” the tall boy sneered.

  “I’m the, um… I’m Margo!” Margo shouted triumphantly, then quickly added with a dignified nod, “Margo the Hero.”

  “She’s pink, Bennet,” Harry said dumbly to the tall boy.

  “I don’t care what color she is, she’s interrupting official Fable business,” he replied. “Now give me that back so I can finish conducting my business!”

  Bennet reached for the satchel, shoving his arm right in front of Margo’s face. Her fox fangs jutted out of her mouth, and she sank them directly into his flesh. He screamed as Margo spun him off the ground and sent him tumbling into the river.

  “Y-you just--!!” Bennet cried, hugging his bleeding arm to his chest as he sat in the river. Harry scrambled to him, pulling him out. Bennet pointed an accusing finger at her with tears in his eyes. “You just bit me!!”

  “Yeah well,” Margo huffed. “I’ll bite you again if you don’t get lost.”

  “I’m telling my father about this!!” Bennet shouted between sobs. The two boys scampered off, leaving her in the riverbed with the third boy. Margo offered the satchel back with a smile. “Here you are, good citizen.”

  The boy blinked, awkwardly taking the satchel back. He eyed her carefully as he placed the strap over his shoulder. The bag hung down below his knee, seemingly far too big for him. “Thanks… I think. I appreciate the help.”

  “It’s just what a hero does,” Margo said proudly.

  “Right…” the boy nodded. Then quizzically he asked, “You know I can’t pay you, right?”

  “Pay me?”

  “I don’t have any money,” the boy said, wagging his empty hands. “I’m not from the town. But from the looks of it, neither are you.”

  “What town?” Margo asked. The boy squinted at her.

  “Don’t mess with me,” he said pointedly. Margo threw her hands up earnestly.

  “I’m not!”

  “Okay, well. Thanks again, stranger. I’m leaving now,” the boy turned on his heel, walking off. Margo followed him for a few steps before he stopped and whirled back. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Margo replied innocently.

  “Then don’t follow me!”

  “But what if the villains come back for you?”

  “You mean the noble boys?” the boy looked taken aback, eyes wide in disbelief. Margo held her ground as she stared back.

  “You need someone to protect you,” she said earnestly, reaching forward to take his hands in her own. She leaned into his space, their noses a few inches away from touching. The boy’s face flushed a bright rose red. “Let me do it! I’m a hero.”

  “You said that before,” the boy muttered. “Margo the Hero.”

  “That’s me.”

  “And you want to protect me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though you don’t know me and I won’t pay you?”

  “Especially because you’re troubled and poor!” Margo shouted. “Heroes don’t help people who don’t need it, obviously.”

  The boy laughed, pulling his hands out of hers to put them on his hips. “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re weird. No wonder you’re on your own out here too.” After a pause, he stuck his hand out to her. “I’m Treeg.”

  “Pleasure to meet you Treeg,” Margo replied, bowing her head dramatically and eliciting another bout of laughter from Treeg. He turned on his heel, motioning for her to follow.

  “My camp’s not too far from here. Come over for dinner, hero.”

  They traveled along the river for a while as the sun set. By the time they arrived at Treeg's camp, the stars were out and glittering high above the fire. Margo watched with fascination as Treeg raised a hand and a round stump of wood emerged from the ground.

  “Sit,” he said, summoning another for himself on the other side.

  “So you do a lot of plant stuff?” Margo asked, watching as he pulled a handful of berries out of his satchel. He began skewering them on a thin branch with a grunt.

  “I guess. Kinda have to out here.”

  “That’s cool,” Margo replied. After an awkward pause, she asked, “Does your family do plant stuff too?”

  He shrugged. “Before they died, yeah. We had an orchard far west of here. Then things got too ugly between the territories for us to keep it up.”

  Treeg offered her a skewer with a solemn look. “Here.”

  Margo took it, mirroring him as he held his above the fire. “That sounds sad.”

  He chuckled dryly. “It was.”

  Another long silence passed as the green skin of the berries on her skewer split and bubbled. It was Treeg who spoke up next, his tone low under the sound of the crackle of the campfire. “Tell me about yours.”

  Margo’s shoulders jumped. In the back of her mind, she knew telling Treeg she ran away from home was a bad idea. It seemed silly next to his life-- here she left the safety of her humble facility to be a hero where he had lost his family escaping death himself. She swallowed a steaming berry with a pensive expression.

  “I don’t remember,” she lied. “I’ve been on my own for forever.”

  Treeg raised a skeptical eyebrow. He blew the end of his skewer carefully. “That sounds sad,” he echoed.

  Margo snorted, relieved by his nonchalant response. “It is.”

  That night, Treeg let her share his leaf-covered hideout. “It’s not much, but you’re welcome to sleep over there,” he offered.

  She tensed, a part of her worried for a repeat of the fox’s den. But as Treeg snored nearby, Margo felt at peace. Her eyes lowered, and soon she was dreaming of her throne again, with Treeg on her left and the Doctor on her right. Her parade was led by the foxes and their grown babies, and Margo smiled fangs and all at the sight.