Chapter Twenty-Nine
~
The hen’s fussin’ that mornin’ had all three of us squirmin’. The epic breakfast was much appreciated. But I thought I would die of embarrassment when she grabbed me and drew me into her lap. Like a kitten.
What the heck! Was she gonna make a pet out of me?
She disregarded my complaints. Even slapped me aside the head at one point and growled. I stilled, sweat beadin’ my forehead, unable to reckon her intentions. She proceeded to trim the ends of my unruly, long hair, brushed it to the point my scalp was ready to bleed, pulled and tied it with bright-blue string into a pony tail like the goblins wear. A pony tail! Girls wear pony tails!
And goblins.
Yes, Morgan and Selene considered that hilarious. I know I’d never hear the last of it, until she practically hogtied Morgan and washed his feet. Prolly couldn’t figger what she could possibly do with the ogre’s two-colored dreadlocks which nearly reach his waist. But she was gonna reward the three of us one way or another.
Selene made himself scarce after that, so the hen turned her attention to the wizard’s mare. She had the horse’s coat gleamin’. She was almost finished braidin’ the girl’s mane. A silent giggle tightened my gut as I caught sight of Selene returnin’ with Kevick, the clan’s interpreter.
Selene stood at the edge of the camp glarin’, jaw dropped nearly to his toes. So, it must be uncommon to braid a horse’s mane in Nador. But he didn’t draw his sword, or draw energy into that signet ring of his to smite her. I strode toward him as Selene’s face tightened. An entertainin’ red hue cast over his expression.
“What ya thinkin’, Selene?” I teased.
He refused to meet my eye.
“You and the horse have something in common,” Selene whispered. His body turned rigid, and his eyes opened wide.
She must have finished with the horse, because she walked toward Selene, that pair of sheers she used on me in her hand.
“Must be yar turn.” My gut threatened to explode if I held my laughter.
Selene turned and stalked off the way he’d come, but the hen broke into a run. With them goblin-long legs, the wizard didn’t have a chance. The rest of the clan broke into laughs with me and Morgan, as Selene bumbled into a run. Nope. No chance. Not the chance of a pence saved by a ten-year-old standin’ outside a candy store. Selene was mama-goblin fodder.
Prolly wouldn’t make it three yards past the edge of the camp.
The fun made the extra day delay in our journey palatable, with Morgan insistin’ on subsequent majical treatments to ensure Avar recovered fully.
~
No comments:
Post a Comment