Chapter 14 #2
"Well, adults are the size of skyscrapers and have tails that can crush cities," he was too cheerful. "Babies are more like, hmm, like big dogs? With adorable fur. And sometimes jazz hands."
"Jazz hands," I repeated flatly.
"You'll see!" Milo assured me. "They're actually kind of cute, in a cosmic horror sort of way."
The path ended at a circular wooden platform built around an enormous, hollow tree stump. The inside of the stump had been converted into what looked like a makeshift shelter, with odd trinkets and shiny objects arranged in careful patterns.
"Someone lives here," I suddenly felt like we were intruding.
"Or something," Milo crouched to examine the collection. "Look at these. Cat Collars."
The singing had stopped, replaced by an expectant silence that seemed to press against my ears. The mist thickened around us, and I felt the markings on my arm begin to tingle.
"Milo," I kept my voice low, "I think we're being watched."
He nodded, slowly standing up. "Hello? We're not here to hurt you. We just want to talk."
A rustling came from the shadows beneath the platform. Something moved in the murky water, displacing it in rhythmic pulses.
"Is it swimming?" I whispered.
"I think it's dancing," Milo whispered back.
The water parted, and a creature emerged onto the platform.
It was about the size of a pug, with a body that defied rational description.
Its fur, if you could call it that, shimmered with iridescent colors that seemed to shift between liquid and solid.
The creature had a lion-like torso, but where a normal lion would have a head, this being had a swirling mass of tentacles surrounding at least twelve eyes of various sizes.
A scorpion tail curved over its back, tipped with a stinger.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
"Oh my god," I breathed.
The creature tilted its head, studying us with several of its eyes while the others darted around, watching for threats. It made a sound somewhere between a purr and a hum, the beginning notes of "Dancing Queen."
"It's beautiful," Milo whispered reverently.
The creature preened at the compliment, its form shimmering with iridescent colors that shouldn't exist in our reality.
"Can you understand us?" I swallowed.
In response, it did a perfect pirouette, tentacles extended gracefully, and finished with jazz hands.
"I'll take that as a yes," I couldn't help smiling. "We're here because of a prophecy. It says we need to bring you home."
The creature froze, all twelve eyes focusing on me at once. It was an unsettling experience, like being X-rayed by a kaleidoscope.
"Do you know what that means?" I pressed. "Do you have a home somewhere else?"
The manticore made a mournful sound, its form seeming to deflate slightly. It slithered to a collection of cat collars and nudged one toward me, a small, pink one with a heart-shaped tag that read "Horrace."
"Horrace?" I read aloud. "Is that your name?"
The creature bobbed its head.
"Wait," Milo joined me in crouching near the collection. "I think I understand. These aren't trophies, they're its collection. It's been taking the collars, not eating the cats."
"So you're not a cat-eater?" I looked at Horrace.
Horrace made an offended noise, several tentacles crossing in what looked remarkably like a huff.
"Sorry," I apologized and shrugged. "There were rumors."
Milo was examining the collars more closely. "These are all from the same neighborhood, I think. Maybe Horrace came through a dimensional rift and got stuck here? And it's been collecting these as, what? Memories? Connections?"
"Or trying to find its way home," the prophecy was suddenly making more sense. "The collars have addresses. It's been looking for its own address."
Horrace's eyes blinked in rapid succession, and it made an excited trill.
"I think we're right," Milo grinned. "The prophecy wants us to help Horrace get home!"
"But where is home?" I wondered aloud. "Another dimension? How are we supposed to open a portal to its home…"
I stopped mid-sentence as Horrace slithered closer to me, its tentacles reaching for my arm where the prophetic markings glowed. The moment it touched me, the blue symbols flared brightly, and images flooded my mind.
Emma.
I gasped, staggering backward as the visions hit me with such intensity that my knees nearly buckled.
Horrace's tentacle remained connected to my arm, the contact creating a link between us that felt almost electric but simultaneously warm, intimate.
The prophetic markings on my skin pulsed in rhythm with what I could only assume was Horrace's heartbeat or whatever cosmic horror equivalent they possessed.
"Winter? Are you okay?" Milo's voice sounded distant, muffled under the rush of foreign memories flooding my mind.
I saw a little girl discovering a strange, shimmering tear in reality behind her bedroom closet.
Her delight as she reached through it and something reached back.
Her parents' shock when she dragged Horrace into their living room, declaring she'd found a "friend from the sparkly place.
" Their eventual acceptance as they realized the inter-dimensional being was gentle, intelligent, and completely devoted to their daughter.
"I can see it," I was overwhelmed by the emotional weight of Horrace's memories. "I can see his home."
The sense of belonging Horrace had felt with Emma and her family was so powerful it brought tears to my eyes.
The manticore had known love, acceptance, a place where his strangeness was celebrated rather than feared.
Then came the storm, the fear, the confusion.
A door left open, a dimensional rift temporarily strengthened by unusual atmospheric conditions, and Horrace was torn away from everything he knew.
Lost.
Alone.
Afraid.
For what felt like decades in human time, the creature had wandered, searching for familiar scents, sounds, anything that might lead back to Emma. The cat collars were his desperate attempt to find an address, a way home. Each one collected with hope, each one a disappointment.
"Oh, Horrace," I knelt down as the visions subsided, my heart aching for this bizarre yet utterly vulnerable being. "You've been looking for your family all this time."
Horrace made a soft trilling sound, his tentacles drooping in what was unmistakably sadness. Several of his eyes blinked rapidly, and I realized with a start that he was crying, iridescent tears that seemed to contain galaxies.
Almost instinctively, I reached out and stroked what I thought might be his back. The fur (if you could call it that) felt like silk and static electricity combined, sending pleasant tingles up my arm. "We're going to get you home. I promise."