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Fitting in has never been in the cards. Not part of the hand Fate dealt me. My superpower is animals, magical and otherwise. They adore me. Birds and insects too. Back when the Celts still roamed the Highlands, I begged them to shed light on how I came to be since my power is unique.
You can guess how well that went. They’re a taciturn, entitled lot. I didn’t shed a single tear when they packed up and left Earth.
Other mages don’t care for me. They don’t trust my one-of-a-kind magic. On my more generous days I don’t blame them. For now, I run a tiny detective agency in the Scottish Highlands. Mortals are quick to hire me because I always solve their problems. Using magic is cheating, but they’ll never find out.
One fine afternoon, a Sidhe sought me out. His power surpassed mine by a factor of ten, so I was suspicious as hell, but he was too profanely gorgeous to turn away…
As usual, no one to blame but myself when my life skids off the rails.
I'm basically a mountaineer at heart. I remember many hours at my desk where my body may have been stuck inside four walls, but my soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. There's a timeless element to the mountains. They feel like old friends as I visit them, and visit them again. There's nothing like standing on a remote pass where I've been before and seeing that the vista is unchanged. Or on an equally remote peak. Mountains are the bones of the world. They'll prevail long after all of us are dust. It feels honest and humbling to share space with them. I hope I'm blessed with many more years to wander the local landscape. The memories are incomparable. They warm me and help me believe there will be something left for our children and their children after them.