by Annie Bellet
* * *
Drake was still a pink rabbit but Bill and Rahiel were hale and well when I arrived back at the witch’s cottage. The crocodile men were little more than smoking ruins of bone and hide and the clearing no longer had the façade of a perfect summer home. Apples had been stripped from branches and wide furrows of earth marred the mossy forest floor. Some of the trees were still smoking and the air had taken on the scent of apple pie and campfires.
“Killer? Good gods above and below. What happened to you?” Rahiel flew toward me.
I looked down at myself. My vambraces were gone. Blood, drying now to a rusty brown, coated my arms and legs. My skin showed in patches through my ruined trousers and my leather hauberk was smeared with swamp mud and more drying blood and pocked in places from either the crocodile man’s acid or the witch’s fire. I carried my bow in one hand and my quiver in the other, swinging it by its ruined straps. I could only imagine what my face looked like. I knew there were cuts on my throat from the vines and if my brown hair was as matted and tangled as it felt, nothing short of one of Rahiel’s epic, spell laced braiding sessions would salvage it.
You should see the other bitch. Since I couldn’t quip and already felt weak and ill, I shrugged.
“Is the witch dead?”
I nodded. Pain blackened my vision for a moment. Fine, nodding was too much. I got it.
“Good. Can you make it back to Azyrin and Makha?” Rahiel grabbed up bunny-Drake by the scruff of his neck and tucked him in front of her on Bill’s back, swaddling him in her skirts.
I answered her this time by my usual method. I turned and led the way.
It was an agonizing and long journey back to the village. Rahiel assured us that she had a scroll in her things at the Guild charterhouse that could get Drake back to normal again.
Azyrin looked much better. We had only been gone a few hours, but his prayers must have been heard. He took one look at me and this time insisted I take a potion. It dulled the pain but also sent my head spinning off into memories and thoughts I wanted to avoid. Fade stayed close to me, his fur brushing against my exposed legs as we staggered our exhausted way back to the town.
