The day my period arrives, I run out of the bathroom screaming for my nanny, Rosalina. It’s a scream of joy; shrill, ecstatic, and full of expectation. Because for a female animalia, today is the day my anima will reveal herself to the world. Rosalina, an elderly python of my court, whoops and opens her arms where she sits in her favourite armchair. I’m thirteen, but I still throw myself into her lap, crying and laughing and babbling about my powers to come. “A powerful beast lurks under your skin,” she whispers, touching my black braid affectionately.
