Now Sarge pulled a wig over his head and adjusted it. As he stood, he realized that male pronouns were no longer appropriate. She had shed her male persona and become Nora Spencer.

Nora smiled at the feminine reflection she observed in the mirror. She walked over to a pair of 3-inch slingback pumps and stepped into them. She walked back and forth a few times, enjoying the distinctive click of her heels on the hardwood floor. She smiled, grabbed her purse, and walked to the rear staircase leading to the alley in back of the store. She paused to lock the door, made her way down the steps, looked either way, and strode off to the sidewalk. Her destination was a gay bar a few blocks away, a place that welcomed crossdressers and their admirers.

As she walked, she did not notice the man standing in the shadows. He wore a cloak made of raven feathers and carried a large Blackthorn staff. A kitten perched on his right shoulder. “Mew,” said the kitten.

“You were right, Maggie,” the man with the raven cloak said. “She's hiding something. She needs help, and I don't think she will find it where she's going.”