73 29: Snow Horse (2/2)

[Fuck me, it's Manny the Manticore.]

And so it was. A creature capable of cat-like grace despite his four-square build and oversized round head fringed with heavy mane. Manny seemed within an inch of grabbing her foot as he reached the apex of his leap, but his rows of pointed teeth snapped shut on little more than air. As Brenda stabilized and swooped upwards, Manny landed with a heavy thump and painful-sounding crack.

Nelda took a deep breath, just to make sure she could. Keeping one eye on the rapidly retreating Brenda she felt along the unicorn horn. It seemed to be all in one piece, undamaged, if noticeably warm at the tip. She used it as an impromptu walking stick to help lever herself to her feet.

It was strangely quiet.

[We have comprehensively destroyed the seer's garden.]

SmithGuild was pretty much where she had last seen him. The centaur was collecting himself awkwardly off the ground. Manny was a dark lump, unmoving. Brenda was barely a speck distant in the sky.

Nelda collected a white tuft that was tangled in her hair. Up close it looked like nothing more than feather down like someone had emptied out about two dozen goose-down pillows all around them.

In fact, the fluffiest of them all [in both senses of the word] was the centaur who was practically covered in the stuff. [Which makes sense if this was part of some pegasus-creating spell.]

\”Okay,\” Nelda said to herself. \”So that happened.\”

She began to pick her way through the flotsam towards the manticore.

\”Um, are you sure you should do that?\” SmithGuild asked in a quavering voice.

\”He does seem to have saved our lives-slash-maybe the world,\” Nelda said as she continued. \”If you are right about who should have this thing.\” She waved the horn in his general direction.

She was having a little trouble seeing out of her left eye, which was swelling up from where she had hit herself with the horn. [I wonder if it can heal injuries it also caused?]

Nelda was beginning to have second thoughts as she got closer. The manticore was easily the size of a male lion, accessories aside, built more like a pit-bull. Its fur was an unrealistically over-saturated shade of terracotta red.

[He, not it] Nelda reminded herself. [This is Manny.]

She edged around the prone figure, laying flat on it's front with legs splayed out. She Found his giant head turned to the side.

Gently lifting up mane hair she peered down at his Cheshire-cat-like face, its giant eyelids closed.

\”Hey, Manny,\” she mentioned. \”How you doing there?\”

Manny's bifurcated lip wrinkled. \”I' turns out,\” he said. \”That manticores are assholes too,\” he said. \”Even worse than you lot.\”

\”Ah.\” Reassured that he was not dying, Nelda let the mane fall back over his face. \”If you can manage it. I think we should take this inside.\”