73 29: Snow Horse (1/2)
It was snowing.
Furious sudden puffs of snow that seemed like it was lit from within. The first thing that came into view was a centaur. The centaur they had met after coming out of Echidna's lair.
\”Oh,\” Nelda exclaimed. \”It's what's-his-name. Wait, where's Brenda.\”
She spun around. Brenda had tumbled onto the ground a short distance away. She looked even more-than-usually angry. And she seemed to have taken to magic very quickly.
Brenda raised her hands -- black shadows rushed towards Nelda.
Nelda raised the alicorn reflexively ahead of her. The rushing shadows parted and dissolved into hissing steam.
\”Well,\” said Brenda. \”Let's do this the old fashioned way.\” She started to stomp toward Nelda, but stomping proved to be a poor strategic move. After a few steps her impractical gothic boot got stuck and the damp mud churned over by the pegasus. She tugged and pulled her foot free from both mud and boot. She teetered a while with one foot, clad in a soiled white tennis sock, held high -- and then toppled backward onto her ass.
Nelda choked back a laugh. [Even in dire circumstances, you've got to appreciate slapstick.]
Brenda actually growled, like an irate cat. She reached out one hand dramatically.
The unicorn horn jumped in Nelda's hand and she briefly lost her grip on it, grabbed frantically and pulled it close to her body. The strength of the pull only grew. Fighting back Nelda fell down on one knee, planting her other foot in front of her in the dirt. But she was losing her balance, on the verge of being face-planted in the mud by Brenda's magical tractor beam.
Hands considerably beefier than SmithGuild's grabbed Nelda by the waist. She started to kick in protest before realizing the hands were pulling her backward, not taking her towards Brenda.
Whipping her head around she saw the chonky centaur was helping her out, his saucer-sized hoofs planted squared and securely.
Nelda just cocked her head and smiled. Gesturing dramatically with her hand, fingers curled like hooks, the pull on the horn redoubled. Even if she could not move Nelda and her equine anchor, the weak point was the grip of her hands which was beginning to weaken and the horn started to pull away from her body. She could feel her fingers starting to loosen. It had already got too far away for her to try and hook and elbow around it.
\”SmithGuild, help!\” she called out.
Brenda was smiling. She looked even more terrible with that smug smile than her usual truculent scowl. Nelda realized that, with an up-do and some nice duds, Brenda was actually rather beautiful -- in a cold and commanding way. She was like a high fantasy Lady Macbeth in her wrath and determination. [\”Bend up each corporal agent to the terrible feat…\”]
But then Brenda's expression flickered and waned. Her fingers lost their aesthetic curl, her mouth fell open.
As the incredible pull of her summoning fell slack, Nelda struck herself full across the face with the horn. At the same time, her body was lofted back and upon the air. She got a blurred glimpse of the centaur landing backward on his horse ass as she did an unplanned triple salchow back toward the house and very much failed to stick the landing.
She found herself planted neatly between two stakes holding up bean-vines, with the horn flat beneath her. [No impalements. Maybe dating an asexual man has taught me a thing or two.]
A few tufts of pegasus fluff blew past in front of her, and clods of much and mud were sprayed into her face. But she still got to see the gratifying sight of Brenda in full, but unfortunately successful retreat.
Brenda had sprouted an impressive set of black-as-night wings and was beating them with all the urgency of a started pigeon sending wind, soil, and fluff in all directions. As she fought to gain flight and figure could be seen leaping after her.