But mostly the death thing.
And then, abruptly, he stops. He swings his big old head around, and he neighs right in my face, smoke pouring over me.
I cough. “Dude, someone needs to teach you some manners. That’s just rude, and also you need some massive breath mints. Or maybe, like, a toilet bowl cake. Those are minty.”
He shakes then, and it forces me off his back. I land pretty hard on my butt on the ground.
“Yep, you’re a grade A jerk. I was trying to help with the peppermint suggestion. Plus, I hear horses like those.”
In a strange sort of flickering avalanche of lights and sparks and blackness, the big black stallion changes into easily the most terrifying man I have ever seen. Eyes black as night. Ebony hair flowing over his shoulders, and teeth so white they’re nearly blinding. “You.”
“Hey.” I shake my head and snort. “You learned a word. Nice work.”
“You are mine.”
“Yours?” I shake my head. “Nope. I’m mine. You are yours. But that was three words. Pretty good job for a newborn baby who throws fiery tantrums.”
He scowls.
“You are mine, human. You will help me restore the balance.”
Oh, shoot. He knows lots of words, which means all of mine probably didn’t make him less cranky.
He turns and starts to walk, his massive black boots tromping on the ground ahead. “Come.”
I try to turn and sneak the other way, but it’s like something’s tying me to him. I find myself tripping along behind him, stumbling and bumbling, and nevertheless walking as fast as I can to try and catch up.
After about twenty minutes of walking, I decide I’m done tripping along behind him on the side of a mountain. I start to run the other direction, and joy of joys, I’m not dragged right back. I’m so happy that I can move the direction I want to move, that I’m not paying enough attention, and I nearly run right off the side of a cliff.
Big, strong arms, and hands as rigid as iron bands snatch me back, saving my life. Rocks clatter as they fall over the edge and bounce their way down the mountain. I inhale sharply. If it was dark as pitch instead of the middle of the day, it could almost be my dream. The heat from the breath on the back of my neck has me turning around slowly.
But when I look up this time, the horse-demon’s eyes must’ve cleared or something, and from this angle, I realize something I missed before. The man staring down at me is Mr. Cobalt Blue.
I’m so very, very screwed.
Because I should be terrified, but I’m actually a little excited.
3
Xolotl
Waking up is hard.
It’s even harder when you’ve been sleeping a very long time, which it feels like I was this time around. I hate feeling disoriented. It fills me with rage, but at least there’s great power in rage. As I stretch, I realize with delight that I’m full almost to brimming with power.
The beauty of slumbering for a long run, I suppose.
The mountain trembles and creaks around me as I shift, and then I force it apart so I can emerge from the depths of the earth and reenter the world. I wonder how long it’s been since I last walked topside. Fifty years? A hundred? More?
As I rise, I hear a strange sound, a bang like. . .could I be so lucky? Could it be gunfire? Am I waking amidst a war of some kind? I can’t contain my smile, which is not the impression I want to make. Before I officially emerge, I shift into my more mobile shape, that of a massive black horse.
Real horses are useless most of the time. Everything terrifies them.
But this form moves efficiently, and it’s something that human brains can process. Interestingly, though the horse is a prey animal, many humans nevertheless see them as a terrifying threat. That makes it a predator-like prey animal, and I love contradictions. Plus, once I’ve selected my general, it’ll be easier to travel with him in my equine shape.
As I near the surface, I hear other sounds as well.
All the screaming’s even more welcome than the sound of gunshots. Well, perhaps not more welcome, but it’s nice to hear after spending so much time in silence. I follow the sounds of gunshots so that I exit this pile of rock where the best kind of action’s taking place. But when I do, the people who stare at me with gaping mouths and goggling eyes don’t look like warriors. In fact, most of them are downright out of shape. They have saggy midsections, greying hair, and they’re wearing ridiculous, brightly-colored attire.
