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head with a wary smile. The glint in his eye says he’s expecting something of a train wreck.
    Gunther stands and spreads his arms wide, like he’s welcoming the evening. He turns his palms out, as if he’s warming his hands over the fire, and the flames leap towards the sky. The air seems to shimmer and I swear to all that is good in this world, I can hear the fracking stars sing. Then these little floating lights start to dance through the breeze like fairies, and whispers trail in their flipping wake. Holy mackerel! Holy smokes!
    Sam and Jamie both jump to their feet and spin around a tad frantically, waving their hands like they’re shooing bugs. I, too, am on my feet. Rather than trying to shake off the wonder, I close my eyes and tip my chin up and let the beauty of it all seep into me. I sense movement and open my eyes; the others are standing with us. Something inside me slips. Whatever’s going on, we’re in it together. And that feels right. Ethan nudges me with his elbow.
    “That was absolutely nothing,” he smirks. “You’d better hold tight.”
    I don’t take him literally until the ground lurches under my feet. I grab onto Sam’s shoulder and watch Gunther as the smoke of the fire seems to weave around him. My eyes can’t seem to focus and Gunther, standing right in front of us, flickers with the firelight. His body puffs apart like the fluff off a dandelion, except his, um, particles , stay in a tighter formation, appear to readjust themselves, and then reform. I gasp and distantly hear my brothers’ more verbal responses. Nobody else says anything, but I’ve grabbed somebody’s arm without realizing, and I’ve imbedded my fingers deep enough to bruise, maybe even scar.
    Standing in front of us is a huge horse, so dark he’d blend into the shadows if he’d close his eyes.
    It’s our horse. Thunder.
    I blink, the world shifts, and Gunther is back to human form, standing there guffawing so hard he’s doubled over. “Gawd, I love doing that!” he wheezes, holding his sides.
    Oh. My.
    I can tell everyone is enjoying our shock, but, I mean really , how do you even respond to this kind of … of … I don’t know. Forgotten detail? Whacked out craziness?
    Jamie, however, has no such trouble. “Shoot, Mr. Gunther! You’re a horse?” Trust him to skip over plausibility and get to the main factual points. Though how I can use the word “factual” when it comes to our uncle-guardian-parent being a farm animal, I don’t even know. It’s probably not legal somewhere.
    “Not ‘a horse,’ Boy.” Gunther glowers, but with a twinkle in his eyes. “I am ‘The Horse,’ thank you very much.”
    And he sweeps into a low bow and plunks down on his bench, like the world didn’t just become even more bizarre. Sam whistles low through his teeth, and I shake my head while snickers float around us. The ‘sparkle and shimmer’ effect has disappeared, leaving behind a regular dusky evening. The stars are silent. We all sit down again and Gunther becomes more serious.
    “Right, then. We’ve got some stories to swap.”
    You think?!
    “It’s getting late; you can use this as a bedtime story.” He grins at the groans and eye rolls. “Just don’t fall asleep on me.
    “Once upon a time there were three amazing children named Olivia, Samuel, and James, who were uprooted from their family and placed in unfamiliar surroundings. What they did not know at the time was the Layer Effect. Life is all about layers. Layers to people, to stories, to time, and to the realities of our world. Some layers to our world are very shallow, overlapping the human reality with just a skimming touch. That’s how we all have our fairytales, legends, and folklore. On some level, they are all true. And each layer has a ripple effect. What happens on one layer can leech through to the next and sway the balance, changing the course of things that are.
    “What happened that snowy evening was a wrinkle in the Layer Effect.