Page 5 of Changelings
Spitting them out, Balar chuckled. Oh, if Artash could only see him now. Amayor.
Rolling onto his back, Balar adjusted his wings. Actually, this wasn’t so bad. Nice view of the stars. No one snoring or farting.
The forest wasn’t silent, but it was peaceful. Eyelids growing heavier, Balar sighed. Laying a wing over him for a little warmth, he closed his tired eyes.
Tomorrow. He’d think about it all tomorrow.
2
“Leave it.”
Imogen arched a brow when her dog, Shadow, looked back at her with a plaintive whine. Usually Shadow was good about leaving smelly things on the side of the path alone, but this was just too much temptation, apparently.
Imogen planted her fists on her hips. “Leave it,Shadow. We don’t pick up strange things off the path.” Especially not ones that reeked of the pub.
But Shadow only whined again, his tail kicking up dust as he sat staring at the huge body sprawled in the leaves.
Sighing, Imogen looked over her shoulder to check on the herd. Her dozen goats were thankfully taking the opportunity to munch on acorns, all under the watchful eye of Chestnut, her trusty donkey. The herd included a billy goat, and everyone pretended that he was in charge to spare his pride, but, really, Chestnut ruled the roost.
She was a better herder than Shadow by a mile, keeping all the goats in line as Imogen led the way to their work for theday. Imogen had begun something of a side business a few years back, bringing her hearty goats to munch on any unwanted fauna, like acorns and thistle.
They were due at the Brádaigh estate that morning and had been plenty early—until a certain big obstacle beside the path stopped her in her tracks.
Imogen glared at the obstacle in question. It wasn’t that he was in the path necessarily—the goats could pass him by without any trouble. Her problem was whether or not this was an act, and he meant to spring up to grab a tasty morsel with those big claws and fangs.
The latter of which were on full display, his mouth wide open as he snored loud enough to shake the trees. Really, it had to be an act. No one actually slept like that.
Pursing her lips, Imogen drew a little closer. She purposefully made a bit of noise, waiting to see any tells that he was faking it. But those ridiculous triangular ears at the top of his head didn’t move.
With a frown, she peered down at the strange man. She’d heard of all the otherly newcomers in the area, of course. Although she lived by herself, in a modest cottage away from any of the surrounding villages, even she had heard plenty of stories about the orcs, manticores, dragons, and harpies who’d come to settle in the Darrowlands.
This was most definitely a manticore. She didn’t know which; her sister Neomi had probably told her their names at some point, but Neomi talkeda lot,and Imogen often took to nodding along, only half-listening.
So long as none of her animals were accosted or stolen, she’d no business with the otherlies.
Of course, one laying across her path—or next to it, as it were—was her temporary business.
Sharing a skeptical look with Shadow, Imogen raised herwalking stick and poked the manticore’s shoulder.
It was about the only bit of him exposed other than his face above the massive tawny-feathered wing laying over him like a blanket. It shouldn’t be possible to look so cozy on the side of the road, but he somehow managed. His flat, catlike nose twitched, the pink-brown triangle of nose leather glistening in the cool morning.
The longer Imogen looked, the more she found him an…odd sort of person. The manticore truly was a perfect mix of features. A human brow and chin, but the nose and split philtrum of a cat, with long white whiskers above his open mouth. Those long canines weren’t human, and neither were the sharp upper row of teeth. His hair hung in golden blonde waves down to a shaggy mane along his back and shoulders. He seemed to have arms and legs like a human, though the hands and feet appeared more pawlike from what she could see.
Strange. Imogen wasn’t one to judge another by their looks—she wasn’t a hypocrite—but she allowed herself that seeing one of these otherlies was strange. They were definitelyotherly.
Well…he looked asleep. Fine, then.
Waving at Chestnut to start gathering the goats, she poked him one more time, just to be safe.
The wing laid across his chest snapped back in a greatwhoosh, startling Shadow into a frenzy of barking. That huge chest heaved, and within a blink, Imogen was staring down into the gold-green eyes of averyawake manticore.
His slitted predator’s pupils blew wide, and he drew in another big lungful of air. A buzzing noise hummed from his chest, and his wings twitched and spasmed beneath him.
Was he having a fit?
“Kigara,” he wheezed. “Kigara!”
Using her stick across Shadow’s chest, Imogen hastily moved them backwards. Maybe he’d hit his head last night. Or was stilldrunk. Clearly not in his right mind.
