Page 35 of Changelings
While the brothers were less familiar than Balar, they themselves were quickly becoming everyday, too. Even Chestnut had given up her deep hatred of the manticores for a more reasonable mild loathing.
After the initial shock of becoming the focus of a manticore—and then being inundated with them—having Balar and his brothers around was increasingly normal for Imogen. To herself, she might even admit that she…liked the company.
Their lively banter and strong backs made the shortening days go by quickly.
She couldn’t really begrudge any of the brothers their spot in the sun when they agreed to help Balar outfit Chestnut and the goats with a stable. She had boards she used to convert the covered area of their paddock during the cold months, but she hadn’t gotten around to building a true stable for the animals. The Darrowlands didn’t get as much snow as other areas, and with the tree cover, her meadow was spared the worst of it. So long as they were dry, her goats were happy.
However, they were even happier with the stable Balar and his brothers constructed over the course of a short week. Using the boards she already had with other timber they sourced from—she didn’t actually know, and Balar wouldn’t hear of her paying him back—somewhere, the brothers built a fine stable, even including tie stalls so Chestnut could have her own space, the billy goat could be separated from the ewes, and mothers with young kids could have a little peace.
It was so lovely, and her animals were so happy, it brought Imogen to tears.
Balar smiled and puffed up his wings to see it. “You like it?”
“Of course I do,” she said through her fingers, hiding her teary face. “It’s wonderful.”
Laying a gentle hand on the small of her back, Balar spread a wing around her. “Ah,urisá. You are too easy to please. This was nothing.”
“Nothing?” squawked Diar. “That was a week’s work!”
“I still have splinters!” added Akila.
“They’re just jealous they don’t have their own warm stalls full of sweet hay,” Balar chuckled.
Imogen giggled to imagine it—and she certainly could. For as strong and vigorous as the manticores were, they enjoyed their naps. Even if it couldn’t be in their preferred sunbeam, theymanaged to get comfortable and snooze.
Not more than a few days later, she caught Kiri napping in the stable, a kid curled up on his lap and Chestnut keeping watch. It seemed even she couldn’t resist the charm of the youngest manticore.
Autumn proved a long lesson in just how much manticore males liked to nap—and how they could get cranky about sharing a prime spot.
As the days continued to shorten and the sunlight grew weaker, the pool of warm light also drew smaller. The brothers began coming around almost every day, helping Balar with this or that until the pool of light formed on the far side of the meadow.
“Shall I install a scratching post, too?” she asked one day.
“You have plenty of trees for that already,” huffed Diar.
“Youcanstep out of the way, though,” said Akila, winking at her from the shade of her shadow over them.
Another day, she couldn’t help observing, “To anyone else, it’d look like I had three great lion-skin rugs out on the meadow.”
“Ah-ha, she has a sense of humor now,” chuckled Akila.
“We’re also not lions,” Soren said in that matter-of-fact way of his. That was how Imogen realized the manticores huffed and puffed about being compared to any cat, even the largest of them.
Which, of course, meant that Imogen had to tease them about it now and again.
It couldn’t be helped, especially when wrestling matches would break out over the choicest spots in the afternoon. With work completed and bellies full of luncheon, the brothers, even sometimes Balar, would vie for that preferred patch of grass in the afternoon sunshine.
She knew competition was particularly fierce when the shirtscame off.
Although she had already transitioned to her knits and wools, the manticores rarely seemed affected by the turning temperatures. Sometimes their sleeves were rolled down from their elbows, and Kiri occasionally wore a padded jacket. As for the grown brothers, none of them had a problem with tossing their shirts over their heads to grapple on the lawn.
Watching on from the animal pen with Chestnut, Imogen hid her laugh behind her hand. They looked like a bunch of spitting tomcats, making themselves big to scare the others.
As Shadow bounded around them, barking merrily, Balar, Soren, and Diar wrestled one another. She couldn’t say which brother was winning or who was actually taking it seriously—they wrestled just because they were bored sometimes.
Imogen’s eye caught on the bulge of Balar’s tawny muscles as he grappled with Soren. He was not only the eldest but the biggest of his brothers; only Diar could match him in bulk. Still, Soren was scrappy, and Balar had to work to keep from being pinned.
To herself, she cheered when he threw Soren off in time to catch Diar’s attack. It wasn’t long before the two younger brothers were teaming up against Balar, but he held his own.
