Arabel’s apartment was a small, cluttered, pnt-filled haven that smelled faintly of citrus and bad decisions. Art supplies were everywhere, half-finished sketches cluttered the coffee table, and a giant bean bag chair had somehow eaten two-thirds of the floor space. It was the kind of pce that screamed “creative chaos” and “no I don’t own a broom.”

  Eclipse, still a silver fox, currently occupied a very plush throw pillow on the couch, tail wrapped around herself like some disgruntled woodnd deity. They had returned to Arabel’s apartment about thirty minutes ago and Arabel had gotten them both dusted off from the debris. Eclipse was stumbling around the whole time before she had given up and flopped down on the couch. Her ears twitched every time Arabel made a new noise in the kitchen.

  “Hey! Are you hungry?” Arabel called out, rummaging through a drawer. “Do foxes eat…uh…. uh- pizza rolls? Or like, do you need forest berries and existential dread?” She poked her head into the living room. “Ok, Ok, how ‘bout eggs?”

  Eclipse narrowed her eyes and let out a sharp snort. She was still trying to figure out her limbs. Fox paws were ridiculous. How did real foxes not trip every five steps?

  “Alright, alright,” Arabel said, walking over with a bowl of scrambled eggs and a bowl of water. “Fancy forest dy gets protein.”

  She pced the bowls on the table and watched as Eclipse awkwardly slid off the pillow and tottered toward it, limbs moving like she was trying to remember how legs worked. She managed to stick her entire snout in the bowl, then immediately bonked her chin on the ceramic.

  Arabel cooed. “Awwww. You’re like a majestic cryptid trying to eat soup.”

  Eclipse barked indignantly, tail puffing up.

  “Oh wait, WAIT! don’t move,” Arabel said, digging into her jacket pocket. “I found something in my bag that’ll make this perfect.”

  She pulled out a tiny, glittery pink bow.

  Eclipse froze.

  Arabel beamed. “It’s reversible. With polka dots.”

  Eclipse growled.

  Arabel advanced.

  Eclipse backed up, paws scrabbling against the hardwood floor like a cartoon character.

  “I’m putting this on you,” Arabel sang, giddy with power. “For science.”

  Chaos ensued.

  Arabel lunged. Eclipse bolted. In an epic chase around the apartment that involved a knocked-over mp, a spttered paint palette, and someone stepping in a slice of forgotten toast (Arabel), the bow was eventually, tragically, triumphantly affixed to the top of Eclipse’s head.

  Arabel colpsed dramatically onto the bean bag. “You…look…so. Stupid. I love it.”

  Eclipse sat like a loaf of furry rage, ears pinned back and dignity in fmes. She slowly turned to gre at Arabel, the bow flopping slightly with the motion.

  Arabel burst into ughter. “I can’t breathe. I’m going to draw this. You’re going on a calendar. ‘Miss November: Angry Forest Spirit.’”

  Eclipse let out a series of annoyed barks that somehow sounded like very creative swears.

  Then, without warning, her body shimmered.

  The bow twitched. Her fur pulsed with light. In a fsh of pale blue glow, the fox form unraveled—legs stretching, tail vanishing, bones realigning.

  A second ter, Eclipse was back in human form, blinking on the couch and looking very confused, very naked, and still somehow wearing the pink bow on her head.

  Arabel screamed.

  Eclipse screamed.

  Arabel grabbed a couch cushion and chucked it at her. “WHY ARE YOU NAKED IN MY LIVING ROOM—WAIT, NEVER MIND, STAY RIGHT THERE, I’M GETTING A ROBE!”

  Eclipse, still dazed and trying to pull the bow out of her hair, mumbled, “What the hell just happened?”

  “You exploded into a fox! Then you exploded back to human you!” Arabel shouted from her bedroom. “And I think I stepped on toast!”

  She returned, tossing a fuzzy robe at Eclipse.

  Eclipse caught the robe and wrapped it around herself, muttering, “I hate magic. I hate this. I hate you and your bows.”

  Arabel grinned, flopping onto the couch beside her. “You loved the bow. You were the prettiest little eldritch woodnd horror I’ve ever seen.”

  Eclipse groaned, hiding her face in the robe’s colr. “We’re never speaking of this.”

  “We’re only speaking of this,” Arabel said, opening her sketchbook. “And I’m making a comic.”

  Eclipse sighed. Her ears twitched

  wait, her ears twitched?!

  She reached up.

  Yep. Still fox ears.

  “...I’m gonna need more eggs,” she muttered grumpily.