B1 Chapter 6: Jiggle

“What kind of class would a horse get?” Belladonna asked.

Modivar looked up at her. The view made him blush all over again, heat creeping up his neck despite everything else happening in the room. In the excitement of the moment, he had briefly forgotten that he was distracted for a much simpler reason. She stood there without a shred of shame, scantily clad and entirely unbothered by it, and she didn’t need to be. The confidence with which she wore her body was almost more distracting than the lack of clothing itself.

“Me?” he said, genuinely confused.

“What if she’s a linguist?” she said, tilting her head as though seriously considering it.

They both laughed.

The horse didn’t.

Gwendolyn looked between them with flat judgment, then lifted a hoof and deliberately pointed it toward the window.

“Knight?” Belladonna said. “She’s a knight?”

Gwendolyn whinnied, the sound sharp and precise, and shook her head in clear disagreement.

They were getting disturbingly good at understanding her. That realization unsettled both of them, though Modivar seemed to accept it with far more grace. Belladonna, on the other hand, was deeply unenthused by the fact that she was slowly, inexorably learning to speak horse.

She crossed her arms and squinted at Gwendolyn. “Not a knight?”

The hoof came down once with a firm click. Then again, slower and more deliberate.

“Not not a knight,” Belladonna said, her voice cautious, as though she were stepping into a linguistic trap.

“Gwendolyn, what’s not not a knight?” Modivar asked. “What does that even mean? So you’re a knight, but you’re not a knight?”

The horse rolled her eyes.

Belladonna froze. “Did you know she could do that?”

“I had no idea,” he said honestly. “I didn’t even know that she got a class, let alone how. That honestly feels like the least of our issues right now, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” she said, staring at the horse. “But it’s still weird. Horses’ eyes aren’t supposed to roll.”

Gwendolyn snorted and lifted her hoof again, pointing out the window at the knight standing outside. Then, as if frustrated with their continued misunderstanding, she began to chase her own tail like an overgrown dog, spinning in a tight, clumsy circle that made the floorboards creak beneath her weight.

“Knight circle?” he said slowly. “What does that mean?”

The horse stopped, fixed him with a long look, and shook her head.

“Round knight?” he tried again.

“Is it because she’s fat?” Belladonna muttered under her breath.

The glare she received shut that down instantly. Both the horse and the man stared at her in unified horror.

“We do not say that about Gwendolyn,” he said firmly. He crossed the room, wrapped an arm around the horse’s neck, and began petting her rather girthy jowls in apology.

“Knight circle,” he murmured, thinking out loud. “What if it’s not about the circle?”

He leaned closer to the horse.

“What if… Gwendolyn… were you talking about yourself? Were you trying to indicate yourself?”

Gwendolyn’s head bobbed up and down with emphatic enthusiasm.

“Knight horse,” Belladonna said slowly.

He smacked his forehead. “Gwendolyn, I am so sorry. You are a genius. That is one of the most intelligent things I have ever had to figure out. She’s a nightmare.”

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The horse bobbed her head again, clearly pleased.

“A nightmare?” Belladonna asked. “Like, horrible dreams?”

“No,” he said. “Knight-mare. As in, a knight in shining armor and a mare. A female horse.”

Gwendolyn bobbed her head once more, smug and satisfied.

“So your horse is a knight’s horse,” Belladonna said. “Does that make you a knight?”

“No. Gods dammit. I’m a wizard,” he said. “You know this.”

“Guy, I don’t even know your name,” she retorted.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry about that,” he said. “My name is Modivar.”