I woke up the next morning just as the sun peeked through the trees. In daylight, the Hawthorns were truly beautiful. I found that the blossoms weren't white at all but a soft blush-pink. The Phouka, man-shaped again, sat Indian style watching me. When he saw me stir, he sang out, "The fair maid, who on the first of May/Goes to the fields at the break of day/And bathes in the dew from the Hawthorn tree/Will ever strong and handsome be!"

He laughed when I shot him a baleful glare. I am not a morning person. "Morning, Sleepyhead!" he said. "Mary says the coast is clear and we can come back home anytime we're ready."

I groaned and sat up. Every part of my body ached from the fall and from sleeping on the cold, hard ground. "We have to leave here already? I haven't even had a chance to look around yet!" I exclaimed.

The Phouka rolled his eyes. "Have your look around, then, but don't leave the circle of the trees."

A slight breeze swayed the trees and with each movement showers of petals fell to the ground. Each tree looked like it was surrounded by a small drift of snow. They smelled faintly of apple blossoms. I heard bird song as I approached the trees. I had never seen birds like these before. They looked like small peacocks but with long, thin tail feathers which had a rainbow iridescence not found in Mundania. They were beautiful.

From the corner of my eye, I saw movement but when I looked, nothing was there. This happened several times and always just outside of my vision and just outside the line of trees. I walked more slowly and as quietly as I could. I spied a furry tail sticking out from behind a tree, so I sneaked up slowly and stepped on it.

The tail belonged to a smallish creature that looked sort of like a lemur, only human-ish, too. The little thing wasn't happy. He dropped the fruit he was eating and latched onto the toe of my shoe with his sharp little teeth. He looked up at my face and hissed as he pulled on my shoe. My curiosity was satisfied and, truthfully, I felt a bit like a bully, so I let him go. He ran off into the woods, chattering madly. I'm sure he was cursing me in his lemur language.

I picked up the fruit he had dropped. It looked like a small, misshapen apple - bright red and stone-hard. I looked around and found that it had come from the Hawthorn trees! I thought it was odd that the trees would be flowering and fruiting at the same time but, heck, we weren't in Kansas anymore. I pulled a couple of the small fruits from the nearest tree. At the same time I bit into the first one, I heard the Phouka's voice but from a long way off say, "Don't eat the fruit!" But it was too late.

The Phouka stood beside me and knocked the fruit from my hand. "Are you completely mad?" he shouted at me. "Why are you eating those?"

"Well, that little lemur-thing was eating them so they can't be poisonous," I said lamely.

The Phouka shook his head slowly. "Well, I guess we'll stay here a little bit longer than planned."

I was starting to argue with him when I realized the earth was tilting. The ground and I met solidly and my legs felt all tingly. I looked down and could not believe my eyes. My legs! Where did they go? From the waist down, my body had turned into what appeared to be the hind end of a fox! "Phouka!" I cried out in fear. "What's happening?"

"I tried to warn you," he said, not unkindly. "It's the effects of the fruit. We call them "pixie pears". Want to guess why?" His smile faded when he saw my distress. "Well, there's nothing for it now; you might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Come on, tell me you never wanted to be a woodland creature, my little fox-girl!" He handed me another fruit.

"They don't even taste good, you know," I said as I bit into it. "They're dry and mealy."

"What do you want?" He asked. "Flavorful fruit or a luxurious tail? Now, eat up and let's have some fun!"

It only took one more pixie pear for the transformation to be complete. I asked the Phouka how long the effects would last and my voice came out in little yips, which made me laugh. The Phouka's response sounded like a dog barking playfully, for he was in his dog-shape now, but he was perfectly understandable. "I'm not sure. This is a first for me, too," he said. "However, you are now a fox and I am a dog. I am the hunter and you, the hunted. I suggest you run."

I was so interested in looking at the world from my new viewpoint that I didn't hear him. He startled me when he came close and shouted, "Run, little fox! Run!" To my ears, he sounded like a dog on the hunt. I couldn't tell from the look on his face if he was playing or if he really wanted to eat me. I ran, just in case.