THOTH & MORVEREN
Thoth prised Morveren away from Tristan’s bootlaces, which was harder than it sounded. Morveren considered it her royal duty to shred any and all laces she could lay her sharp little teeth on, and she was difficult to deter from a goal once she’d set it in mind – especially since she was starting to get too big to manhandle. Now about the size of a cat, the vaporeon could stand her ground and hold her own against someone with a different opinion. She needed to lay off Nimueh’s cookies, Thoth reflected grimly as he lifted her up by her tail with the acknowledgement that he wouldn’t be able to pull that stunt for much longer. If Morv got much bigger, she’d be too heavy for this standard method of removal. Fearlessly, she clambered up his arm and tried with partial success to sit on his shoulders. Thoth’s shoulders were sharp and narrow; generally whenever Morv tried to sit there, she shredded his shirt scrambling to keep her position.
Keen to hang onto his top, he plucked his familiar off his shoulder and carried her to the door while Tris finished pulling on his boots. At the prince’s enquiry, he simply flashed a grin over his shoulder.
“Not pirate hunting,” the corners of his lips curled mischievously. “Ren hunting.”
Now wasn’t the time to go into Lorraine’s surprise visit, but Thoth had never been good at lying – even lying by omission. His expression distinctly bore the slightly guilty look of a boy who was holding something back, and he vanished out of the door before Tris could quiz him further.
Thoth kept a tight hold of his familiar as they darted down the castle corridors, cutting shortcuts wherever they could, just in case Morveren decided to take a fancy to a rug and try to take it with them. These days, he could barely leave the castle without her trying to add to the mounting collection stashed in his bedroom. Thoth had never quite understood how there could be a part of his soul with an insatiable rug obsession… but then again, there was a part of Tris’s soul which was big, green and hairy, so he figured everything in life balanced out.
They made it out of the castle without incident, but time was pressing on – rather than take Tristan around to the stables, Thoth insisted they go straight to the gates where he had left Junebell. Extracting Tris’s horse from the stables and tacking it up would take way too long. There was no one waiting for them at the main gate, which meant Junebell must still be on the errand he’d sent her on. While Morveren squeezed between the metal bars, Thoth hauled himself up and over, wishing he could simply phase through like his friend. Once on the other side, all they could do was wait. Thoth fidgeted, eying the gradually lightening sky and summoning small beads of water to weave around his fingers. It was probably only about five minutes before Junebell trotted out of the undergrowth, still fully tacked up, but it felt like forever. Thoth took hold of her reins and grinned at the pony prancing along behind her like a dressage champion.
“Thanks, Sneezewort.”
“Alright, mate,” the Dartmoor pony whinnied, trying and failing to sound cross. “Just how many favours do you owe me now? I should be renamed Superhorse.”
Thoth pressed Junebell’s reins into Tristan’s hands and pulled himself onto Sneezewort’s bare back, accidentally pulling the pony’s mane in the process. Sneezewort grumbled and groaned a little too authentically, and Thoth quickly realised why. He’d written Sneezewort once or twice before, in emergencies, but now he was starting to get too big; the pony was only little, after all. One last trip. At least it was going to be spectacular, one way or another.
“Time to go, Junebell,” he suggested as Tristan settled on her back.
They cantered away, racing against the oncoming dawn, with Junebell and Tristan leading since Sneezewort didn’t know the way. At least, that’s what Sneezewort said. Thoth had a feeling that Junebell, being bigger, stronger and trained to carry riders, wasn’t as burdened by her weight even if Tristan was a bit heavier. It didn’t occur to Thoth that it might be weird for Tristan to be riding a pony not tacked up to suit him, and weirder still to let the pony take control and lead the way. Thoth always rode primarily on verbal commands, in spite of Junebell chiding him about not taking any proper riding lessons, and forgot that not everyone had the ability to communicate so fluently with other life forms.
Dawn still hadn’t broken by the time they reached the boat, but it was close. It would definitely break before they reached Apeliotes Island, which made Thoth mutter a curse in Arabic as he slid off Sneezewort’s back. Getting to the island under the cover of darkness had been his main defence against pirate scouts, but now they were going to have to come up with something else.
“Cheers, Supersneeze,” he nudged the pony in the ribs.
“Oh, ha ha,” Sneezewort snorted. “I’ll catch you later, mate, Mayflower’ll have my hide if I’m not back by dawn.”
“Be careful, dear,” Junebell’s soft brown eyes fixed Thoth with a worried stare. “Come back in one piece.”
He patted her neck, but didn’t hang around waiting to watch the ponies disappear again. While Junebell turned back to the castle and Sneezewort trotted away in another direction, Thoth leapt into the boat and started tugging on the ropes.
“You ever sailed before?” He asked Tristan as he lifted the boon into place.
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