Phouka shrank as well, disappearing inside his clothes and emerging a sleek raven with glossy black feathers and a sharp beak. Most of the time he could not be understood unless he was in his man-form but Winter understood the songs of birds. Even the rasping caw of a raven.

"Through the mirror, little one?" he asked, hopping about on the floor. He loved bouncing, and he flapped his wings experimentally.