The sun was high in the sky by the time they reached the slopes of the Little Giants. Vix was in the lead, with Caine and Mirra trailing slightly behind. She put each foot in front of the other with as much care as she could, trying to walk naturally without outpacing her own illusory body.
It was even harder than she had thought it would be.
Caine was having even more trouble.
“Your mouth is migrating again,” Vix informed him.
He squinted, concentrating, and managed to make it slide back into place. “It keeps doing that.”
“Whose face is that you’re using, anyway?”
“No one’s. I just made him up.”
“That might be what’s making things so difficult for you,” Mirra said from behind. She was sweating profusely. “It’s far easier to copy a real person’s face than to hold onto the idea of an imaginary one.”
Caine glanced back at her incredulously. “And now was the best time to tell me this?”