Contrary to all popular belief, Mayra settles early, when Jack is eleven. It is not true settling, she tells him; they are no more unusual than he already believes. She may still shift. But she knows what form she prefers, and she will not abandon it lightly.

"Can you be a that?" Jack asks.

They're up in the hills, away from the beach, secluded from the world in a maze of foliage and dappled sunlight. Mayra lies on the damp ground, the thick speckled fur of her belly preventing the moisture from touching her, and Jack sits in front of her, cross-legged. They stare at each other as they converse, closer than friends, two halves of the same whole, an inborn knowledge of belonging Jack knows down to the heart of him.

Belatedly, he points to a small critter scrambling quickly across the forest floor. Some kind of rodent.

"Aye," says Mayra. She has a funny way of speaking, Jack thinks, calm but not quite reserved. Her tone never tells him to be quiet, or that the questions he asks deserve no answer; she's the only one. Rather, she's possessed of an engaging impassivity, an unemotional quality Jack can't arise in himself, when the world about them constantly contains new surprises or fascinating features.

Mayra's left ear curves backwards, tracking the movements of the forest rodent as it scurries to a new location, and Jack continues. "What about a bird—with great big wings?" He throws his arms out for display and emphasis. "Could fly around, far above the tree tops, and see everything."

"I don't want to," Mayra says simply, as though it explains all things.

Jack drops his arms into his lap. "Why not?"

Mayra has been a cat in one form or another for the past five months. Currently, she rests in the large, furred body of a white leopard, with piercing eyes and a coat far too thick for the Caribbean heat. No one in the tribe has ever seen something like her. There are whispers, Jack knows, furtive and suspicious, that she invented the form herself.

"I did not," she told him, when he had grown timid and hid behind the boats stacked for repair on the beach. She nuzzled her large head against his cheek and allowed him to wrap his arms around her neck, clutching at the plush, soft fur. "They come from far away, in the north, creatures such as this. But they do exist."

"You could be something from around here," Jack had said, at another place and time, later.

Mayra only watched him, and flicked the tip of her long, ropey tail. "I don't want to." It was her answer for many things, and one so sensible Jack didn't know how to question it.

Now, Mayra stays silent for a long time. She's not ignoring him, Jack knows, though he suspects she does ignore others when she gives them same treatment. She is thinking about her answer.

"I like it," she eventually decides.

Eminently sensible. Jack pouts his lips in thought. "But—if you can be anything, why wouldn't you be?"

"Anything is not the same as everything, Jack. One day you must choose." At Jack's wary expression, she adds reassuringly, "It is not today. Shall we go hunting?" In one fluid motion, she rises onto her feet. Her tail flicks restlessly in the air.

Jack follows, scrambling onto his feet with far less grace. His toes wiggle against the cold ground. It rained yesterday evening. "Don't kill anything," he requests of her, hating to see remnants of the prey she tracked down, blood stained around her muzzle.

Mayra licks at her teeth, but nods. "I will let go whatever I catch."

"Good," Jack sighs, pleased at the promise. He bounces a little at the knee, preparing himself. "Ready?"

Mayra springs off like a shot, and Jack has to run hard to keep up with her. The trees pass them in blurs, the sky above a wash of blue and golds. Like this, they are more of one mind than at any other time, one soul. Jack laughs from the joy of it, the thrill, and spreads his arms wide. If Mayra will not be a bird, that doesn't mean he can't pretend to be.


___



Word Count: 715
Characters: Jack, Mayra (his daemon)
Warnings: None
Notes: A loose fusion between His Dark Materials and Pirates of the Caribbean.