Radley's Labyrinth for Horny Monsters by Annabelle Hawthorne (parable of the sower read online txt) 📗

“Only the good stuff. I’ve been in this forest for several years now, and I had to make do. A small bag of these provide enough nutrition to get through a couple weeks of winter, no problem.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Mike sniffed the bar. It smelled faintly of oatmeal. He bit into it, expecting to taste honey, oats, maybe even something nutty. Instead, it tasted like the inside of a lawnmower bag.

“Yeah, it’s an acquired taste. Better than starving to death.” Zel handed him a waterskin. “It’s best to wash it down right away. The aftertaste is kinda gross.”

“Jeez.” Mike choked down half the bar, then sucked greedily at the waterskin. The flavor quickly left his mouth, and the bar sat like a brick in his gut. “Couple weeks of this stuff?”

“Only once. The greenhouse is supposed to be like springtime year-round, but there was a weird period a couple years back where a brutal winter blew through.” Zel took the waterskin back, slinging it over her shoulder. “Caught me off guard, and I had to go find shelter deep in the forest. Not a lot of caves built for people of my stature.”

“Indeed.” Mike stuffed the bar in his pocket, taking another minute to rest against Zel. The weakness soon passed, and he stepped away, his legs protesting. He did a quick stretch, easing the tension in his limbs.

“Little bit better?” Zel asked.

“Some.” He gave Zel an affectionate pat on the back, then immediately regretted it. He didn’t know her that well and was grateful when she said nothing. Zel guided him through some of the thicker vegetation, her lower half easily clearing a path for him to follow. Shoving aside a large cluster of vines, he found himself back in the clearing with the Mandragora plant.

“Watch out for the pods,” Mike warned, giving them a wide berth.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice,” Zel informed him. “I was dumb enough once to try and harvest the pollen. Pod burst all over me, and I had to run away before the tentacles could grab me. Let’s just say that there’s a tree not too far from here that I can’t even look at anymore without blushing.”

Mike nodded, gazing warily at the pods. Already, they were beginning to wilt, their purpose finally served. “So what’s going to happen to the Mandragora?”

“I imagine it will hibernate for a bit. It takes a ton of energy to build a vessel for fertilizing, and now that it’s reproduced, it will probably sleep for some time.” Zel stepped over a clump of vines that had curled around each other, forming a noose. “I think this is what you are looking for?”

Mike walked to where she stood. The hilt of the dagger reflected the sinking sun’s light, its shadow like a sundial on the smooth stone beneath it. The blade was so sharp that it had easily embedded itself in the stone. Mike wondered how far the blade would have sunk without the metal of the hilt to slow its descent.

“Are you going to take it?” Zel asked.

Mike realized that he had been staring at the knife for some time. “Yeah, sorry.” Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, he gave it an experimental tug, expecting some resistance. The blade slid free, its dark edges glinting dangerously in the light. As he held the knife, it occurred to him that he had nowhere safe to put it. Shoving it casually in a pocket would end in disaster at best, and Mike didn’t want to trip and impale himself.

“Here.” Zel handed him a strip of leather. Mike carefully wrapped the leather around the blade, marveling at how quickly it bit into the tough fabric. She held out a small sack to stuff the dagger into. He pulled the drawstrings tight, cinching the bag shut. He hefted it carefully, satisfied that the knife wouldn’t suddenly slide through the edges.

“Thanks,” he said, using the strings to tie it through his belt.

They walked mostly in silence, Mike still stumbling on occasion. Zel’s hooves pounded a steady rhythm into the dirt, luring him into a partial trance. He wondered how mad everyone would be when he got back, hours later than his expected return. It wouldn’t surprise him to see Abella circling overhead at any moment or to spot Cecilia’s glowing form in the shadows.

Tink would probably bite him for making her worry.

Worst of all, he was strangely obsessed with what Sofia would say. It was really bugging him that she hadn’t immediately liked him. Then again, Cecilia had been the same way at first. He wondered what he could do to bridge the gap, prove that he was worth getting to know.

“Shit,” Mike swore, stopping in his tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Zel asked.

“I should have asked Sofia about the grimoire.” Sarah had been obsessed with it, a magical book of great power. It made sense to Mike that such a thing would exist in the Library, and he had forgotten to even mention it. There had been too much on his mind. There was always too much on his mind.

“Who’s Sofia?” Zel had stopped as well, her attention on him.

“She’s a cyclops who watches over the Library. You haven’t met her?”

Zel’s gaze fell to the ground, her left front hoof pawing softly at the hard soil. “Um, no. Not exactly. I guess there’s something I should tell you.”

Fuck. “What is it?”

“I’ve never actually been in the house. I only met Emily the one time, about ten years ago.”

“Wait, you only met her? You didn’t live with her?” Mike appraised the centaur, suddenly aware of how tightly he gripped the bag in his hand. Why wouldn’t she have been allowed to stay in the house? Was she dangerous?

Zel bit her lower lip. “No. We were only visiting.”

“Then why are you still here?” Mike asked. “As far as I know, there’s only one way in.”

“We never left. Well, I never