Hikari came up the attic stairs and stopped on the last step.
The nest was empty. The thin cover lay folded back, the note still beside it, and the small black shape that should have been under both was instead sitting on the windowsill - whole, four-legged, tail wrapped neatly around its feet - watching the city lights.
"You have a tail," she whispered to herself.
"I have a tail." The lizard didn't turn around. "I have legs, too! Congrats, you proved that you can see.
"How did-"
"The boy is more capable than either of us predicted, which I find frankly destabilizing and have decided not to think about."
She crossed the attic and sat on the edge of her mattress, close enough to the window that the lizard's outline caught the edge of the city glow. It looked sleek again, finished. The window light ran along its skin without snagging on missing pieces.
