May Bird Among the Stars by Peter Ferguson, Jodi Lynn Anderson, Sammy Yuen Jr., Christopher Grassi Page B

itself across the air, drifting farther into the depths as if inviting them forward. Dripping, thawing water echoed around them. Large lumps grew out of the ground on either side of the cave, but it was hard to tell exactly what they were.
    Though it was still cold, there was no wind to whip the chill into her bones, and May loosened the collar of her death shroud. She noticed it had torn in one place and that her vivid, living body showed through the tear.
    â€œHello?” Pumpkin called, smiling and delighted as his own voice bounced back at him. “Pumpkin is the best!” he called, cupping his long white fingers to his ears, his tuft flopping in the breeze. His echo returned again and again.
    â€œShhh!” May and Fabbio hissed.
    Beatrice drifted up to one of the lumps, then gasped. “May, come look.”
    May hurried to her side.
    The lump wasn’t just a lump, but a statue of a ghoul—sharp fangs protruding from under its lips, its arms held up over its eyes as if in terror.
    â€œHow odd,” Beatrice said.
    â€œMaybe we shouldn’t be in here,” May said. But already Fabbio had drifted down the passage.
    â€œI have found the way,” he called proudly, following a glowing blue arrow on the ground. Somber Kitty leaped out of Pumpkin’s coat and onto the ground, dropping back and rubbing between Pumpkin’s legs.
    They all reluctantly followed Fabbio. More statues emerged from the darkness: ghouls, goblins, even the occasional ghost or specter. One held a camera up to its face.
    â€œYou don’t think that’s one of the holo-tographers that book talked about, do you?” Beatrice whispered in May’s ear. “The ones that never came back?”
    May shivered.
    All of the statues looked terrified. The number of them increased the farther they went, until they were practically butting up against one another.
    â€œI think we should turn around,” May said, swiveling to look back at Bea and Pumpkin. But the passage behind her was empty.
    From above, the sound of a deep breath being exhaled swept through the cave, followed by a gust of frigid air.
    â€œPumpkin? Bea?” May whispered, then scanned the ground. “Kitty?” She shivered, and her heart thudded against her ribs. The cave seemed to have gotten about twenty degrees colder. She looked up the tunnel in the other direction, where Fabbio had drifted too far ahead to be seen.
    Whhoooooooooshhhhhhh.
Again, a cold gust of air swept over May and made her shiver.
    â€œHello?” May warbled, her pulse thrumming.
    â€œFabbio?” she called. There was no answer.
    May strained her ears against the silence. She peered around at the different passageways, which dug their way like hollow roots outward from the open space. An icy breath from one to the right blew her hair back, her bangs parting on either side of her forehead. May walked up to the opening, pulling her shroud tight, her nose freezing. “Hello?” she called down the shaft, only to hear her echo respond.
    She paused on the verge, not knowing what to do. And then she saw it. The figure was obscured by shadows, but still May could make out its thin, small form in the recesses of the tunnel.
    â€œHello?” she called.
    Hello?
her echo replied.
    May crept forward, and so did the figure. It had the gait of a jaguar. Sharp, ready, poised, purposeful.
    â€œHello?” May squeaked again.
    She paused, and so did the figure. There was something distinctly odd about it. Distinctly … familiar.
    The figure’s hair was very dark. It had glittering eyes and a thoughtful tilt to its head.
    May padded up to it slowly, reaching out her hands toward her reflection in the ice. It was May, but not the May she knew. This May was older—maybe by two or three years.
    She no longer had knobby knees, but long, lean, gazellelike ones. She was painted like a warrior and clothed in a dark, sparkling shroud. A quiver of silver