A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (feel good books .txt) 📕

quickly around the bird, and when it’s done, the bird is bald. Amazing, beside the bird is an additional pocket of water holding the head and the feathers.

“Now, I don’t want the insides of the bird, so I do this,” she says, and the bird suddenly splits in half down the middle. I can see inside it and as I watch all the parts move into the extra water globe as well.

Not even a red streak anywhere. Then, I see a thick red rope move from the bird to the second water globe. Once it’s done, both globes separate, and Leeha now has one with chicken, I mean Macoa, and one with what I guess is inedible stuff.

She waves her hand, and the second globe suddenly flies off into the forest. “So that globe I will send about a mile away and just drop in the forest somewhere. Now, as for the bird, we need to cook it,” she says, looking around for something.

“We need sticks,” she says.

“Here, I’ve got something even better,” I say, an idea coming to my mind. With that, I think Earth, and then Stone Stick, and I imagine it being about four feet long, and thin, about half an inch thick. I want it pointy at one end to slide the bird meat on, and then thick on the other end to push into the ground. When I’m done, I am holding a cooking spit stick made out of stone. Is that a thing?

“Will this work?” I ask Leeha. She grabs the stick slowly and looks it over and then looks up at me and grins. “This is amazing! With this, you don’t need to worry about the stick burning. Though, can you make the other end pointed as well to make it easier to stick in the ground?”

“Hmm,” I say and take the stick back. Again, I think Earth, and I imagine the end that I had left blunt changing into a thicker, sharp end. Just like that, it changes.

I hand it back to her and she takes it, one hand reaching into the water globe and pulling out half of the bird. She spits it on the rock stick and shoves it into the ground, making sure that the bird is angled over the fire. Without waiting, I create another rock stick, and hand it to her. She nods her thanks with a smile and does the same thing with the other half of the bird, shoving it next to the first one.

Leeha sits back against the rock behind her and says, “It’s going to get dark soon. We should get some more wood.”

“I can do that, at least,” I tell her with a smile directed at her. I get up and head into the forest, noticing that Leeha is right, it is getting dark. It takes me about ten minutes to get a good load of dead wood that I find on the ground, since I don’t have a machete or an ax. Once we have a good pile of wood, I settle down next to her again. Leeha turns over the bird without even getting up, by just twisting the stick.

We sit in silence for another ten minutes, as the forest gets quieter and darker and the sun finally goes down, and all the light we have is our fire.

“Are you truly not from this world, Alex?” Leeha finally says in the quietness of the forest, with only the sound of the fire crackling and the bird cooking over it.

I turn slightly towards her before answering, “Yeah. I died on mine.”

“You died?” she says, appalled.

“Yeah. My God, on my world, he said my death was a mistake, that it was not my time yet. So I was given an option. Take on the life of the person who was meant to die, or come here to this world where magic is real. We do not have magic on our world,” I tell her.

“So your God spoke to our Gods, and they let him give you that choice?” she asks me, intrigued.

“Yeah, he said he talked to the Gods here, and it was all right,” I say, not telling her that it’s actually Angels who run this world and pretend to be Gods.

“And you said that your world has no magic? Then how come you understand some uses of it? Like those sticks?” Leeha asks, pointing to the sticks with the cooking pieces of meat on them.

“No, no magic on my world. To us, magic is only in stories. Although I’ve found out since I’ve been here that I can use the language of my world to do magic,” I acknowledge.

“That is sad to live in a world with no magic. Though, I am sure if you live in a world with magic but cannot use magic, it would be the same,” she says sadly.

“So not everyone can use magic on, what was it? Boromour?” I ask her, fishing for more knowledge.

“No, only those who are gifted can. And only for one Elemental. I did not get my gift of magic until I was sixteen.”

“So speaking of that, you said that most could only use one Elemental. Yet, my God gave me access to all of them. He knew I would need weapons to survive in this world. Though, I expected to get something like a dagger or a sword, not magical abilities. But you said that once every thousand years someone who can use all of them comes along. And that person destroys everything?”

“Yes, and each time they are called the Elemental Summoner. As you can use all the magical Elementals, that is what you are, even if you named yourself that as a joke. I wish to be there with you, as your ally, or more, when you do so,” she says, moving closer to me so that our knees touch.

“And you mentioned that most humans hate the other races?” I ask her, trying to ignore the fact that I