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“GUYS YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT WE FOUND AT GNOME DEPOT” Moss’s voice is loud and eager when her and Princeton return from their last minute evening supply run. Loud voices usually put me on edge, but over the past few weeks I have gotten used to Moss’s yells of excitement. I look up from the piece of wood I’m trying to shape into a badger and see that, in addition to the things they went out looking for, both of them are animatedly emptying a bag of colorful little glass containers and tubes onto the table.
“There was a bin full of these for like a copper each on clearance, so we kinda got really excited?” Princeton begins to explain. “I hadn’t seen horn polish since I was really little, and I… kind of… just never got to actually use it, so we got as much stuff as we could carry!”
A closer look at all of the tiny containers confirms what he is saying: The glass bottles read “horn lacquer” and “horn polish”, with countless adjectives upended to the names: “glossy”, “glitter”, “gel”, “metallic”. I’m not sure I understand the excitement —Princeton is already plenty glittery and metallic, after all, and looking at them just makes me a bit uncomfortable—, but Moss seems over the moon about it. Apart from the sparkly bottles, there’s tubes with every possible beauty product: lotions, moisturizing and cleansing masks, exfoliants, something called velvet dye (a few of those— in several shades?). They have also dumped a few thick nail files and buffers, which I assume are meant for shaping and smoothing horns rather than nails. The small table in the inn room is quickly taken up in its entirety by the products. My head feels a bit heavy.
“That looks like… A lot of stuff.”
“It was real cheap! We barely spent ten gold!” Interjects Moss. “We had to tell you about it! I didn’t even know all this existed ‘til now! Isn’t it the best?”
Her eyes are open wide and slightly squinty from smiling.
“Yeah— Yes, it sounds great” is all I can bring myself to say. Anything else aside, her excitement is contagious.
“I was thinkin’ we could maybe all spend some time together, y’know, have some fun with ‘em, do each other’s horns…”
I nod along, smiling at Moss’s enthusiasm and doing my best to match her energy. As I start to wonder if I should say something back, Dante sticks his head out of the book he is reading and interjects loudly.
“Yes!” He sounds… bothered, somehow. “Maybe you should gossip about boys and play truth or dare, too.” His tone drips so much sarcasm it is almost impossible not to roll my eyes at it.
“Ohh, that sounds fun! Princeton, do you know how to play truth or dare?” Moss seems to take no notice of Dante’s dismissiveness, as usual. His face sours as he looks to Princeton, who tries to sputter out an answer.
“Does this bother you?” I cut in, interrupting Princeton. Sometimes you have to fight mean with meaner.
“Not at all! I just… It’s a bit childish for me, honestly. You three have fun, though.”
“We will.” I say. I can hear in Dante’s tone that there is something more to it, but in the past week I have quickly learned that there is nothing to be gained by pushing it.
“So much fun!” Moss exclaims with a little squeal of glee. “Y’all, I’m so excited… I can really feel my antlers comin’ in this year. They’ve never been this big before, see?” They lower their head slightly so Princeton and I can see them in all their branching, velvet-covered glory. I can see a small stub beginning to form near the base of one. “I wonder if they’ll shed this time… they didn’t last year, but ya never know, right?”
Princeton oohs loudly at this, fussing all over Moss and asking permission before running a finger up and down the velvet. I stand back and let myself smile; seeing Moss happy never fails to raise everyone’s spirits.
“Moss, that’s wonderful!” says Princeton. “Oh, but then we should make a whole day out of it, not just tonight! Did you guys have any plans tomorrow? We could really lean into the spa day experience!”
“YOU’RE. SO. RIGHT” says Moss. “I don’t think we got any plans other than waitin’ for Akiki to finish up makin’ everyone better, right?”
“Yeah, no. I didn’t really have any plans for tomorrow.” I shrug and smile back. I am a bit curious about this “spa day” thing. It must be something the two of them talked about sometime when they were traveling together before, because Moss seems to understand what he means perfectly. I don’t mention it. If it’s happening tomorrow, I guess I’ll find out soon enough. “Sounds good!”
Moss is beside herself in excitement, and Princeton is soaking it up. Out of the corner of my eye I catch Dante, who has turned his back on us and pretended to go back to their book, looking at the pages with an expression that is almost… forlorn. It is painfully obvious that he is not actually reading, but again I decide against commenting. With the kind of energy they have built up in the past five minutes, Princeton and Moss would never let him hear the end of it. Even someone like Dante doesn’t deserve that, I think.
Maybe they can finally get some alone time. They probably need it, after being stuck with us in the same inn room for several days in a row now. With the way they are, it can’t be easy having to watch themself constantly. They could even be shapeshifting themself dry just to cover all their bases, and we wouldn’t even know. A flash of them donning my own face quickly steers me away from that particular train of thought. Yes. They can get some time to themself tomorrow.
Still, I sit next to him and pick my own reading back up —a thin, worn, leather-bound treatise about the sacred relationship between a hunter and her prey. I pretty much know it by heart at this point, but reading it is always soothing for me. It was one of the books that the previous keeper of the temple had before I arrived. She left it there for me, I think; though I’m not entirely sure why.
After a while of Moss and Princeton planning and organizing all of the stuff they bought for tomorrow, Dante stands up wordlessly and climbs into bed. The other two seem to pipe down as well, after that, and there’s a silent agreement that we should all probably go to sleep.
The night is uneventful, and I rise with the sun as I always have. I hear Princeton also sitting up on the bed above me, and see Moss already climbing down the ladder on the other side of the room. As soon as both of their hooves are on the floor, they freeze, staring at Dante’s still-sleeping form.
“Um… Guys? I think I started seein’ things…”
They stand back and, as if on cue, Dante shifts underneath the covers and turns its head at an angle where it’s obvious what Moss is referring to: entangled with its long, sleep-mussed hair, in stark contrast with the white strands, emerge two long, charcoal-black horns. They curl all the way back behind its ears and in on themselves before ending in two sharp-looking points that face forward.
“I- I think I see them too…” calls Princeton while stepping down from his bunk. “Percy?”
“Yup. Yeah, they’re… There.” It takes me a minute to fully comprehend what is happening. Dante has horns. Dante did not have horns last night. Something in my stomach turns sour.
Before I even have time to process that, though, Dante stirs in bed again—this time managing to hit one of the horns on the nearest bedpost. I can feel all of us cringe slightly at the sight. Ouch.
That is enough to wake even him up. He jerks back, eyes shooting open in shock as he settles propping himself up on one elbow, visibly tense.
“Fuck, what in the world—” After the initial rush is gone, his eyelids fall back over his eyes as he raises one hand to his head, probably attempting to rub at the tender spot on his scalp. Instead, his knuckles bump clumsily into the solid curve of the horn. This earns a second curse from him, and a facial expression that I will treasure forever—I can almost see the first hints of something that looks suspiciously like a blush creeping up on his cheeks.
“Good mornin’!” Moss is the one to finally speak up. “You good? That looked like a real nasty bonk.”
This seems to snap Dante out of whatever shock he was still in, and his mortified mug dissolves back into his signature vague disinterest. The expression sits so naturally on his face, I can’t help but wonder just how calculated it is the rest of the time. I make a mental note to ask later (not that I think he’ll be forthright about it).
“Yeah, I’m… good… Alright guys, I know I'm beautiful, but the staring's getting a little creepy,” he says, finishing with a dry laugh for good measure.
Princeton bites immediately—“Well… it's kind of hard not to stare at the pair of massive horns that you seem to have grown overnight?”
Dante does not so much as flinch before busting out a cocky grin and gesturing to his head like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh, these things?” he says. “Yeah, that happens sometimes. Sometimes it’s horns, sometimes it’s, like, a snout. Mostly it’s just annoying, but perfectly normal, no need to wor—”
Before Dante is even done talking, Moss is already all over them. Taking them completely off guard, she pulls them up by both hands and hauls them out of the bed with a joyful leap.
“Yay!” she exclaims. “Now you can join our spa day!”
Dante reluctantly lets her twirl them around and admire their brand new horns, but their face remains unmoved.
“What? No. I told you, that is way too cheesy and childish for me. You guys have fun.”
I turn to Moss to give her a sympathetic smile, but I seem to have forgotten just how determined she can be.
“Aw, c’mon! It’ll be more fun! I’m pretty sure we got some glittery black horn polish in here…”
She has already dashed to the small table and began rummaging around inside the paper Gnome Depot bags.
Dante’s expression turns dramatically appalled, and their shoulders slump as if in grave defeat.
“Wow, Moss. I can't believe you're forcing my hand like this. Alright, fine. I will join in on your little slumber party if you're THAT adamant about it"
None of the rest of us are in any rush to point out that Moss “forced Dante’s hand” by insisting exactly Once. She just smiles as brightly as ever—maybe with a small hint of mischievous satisfaction.
After everything is set out on the table not unlike a storefront display, Princeton starts picking out specific items: a few tubes, files and buffs, and some towels. Moss convinces Dante to help them warm up a bowl of water, but quickly realize it does not fit on the table with everything else.
“Well, we could sit on the floor?” offers Princeton.
“Oh!” Moss doesn’t miss a beat. “We could sit in a circle and all work on each other’s horns at the same time!”
“And then sit in a different order after each step so we can all get a turn with everyone!” Princeton shoots back, already building on that same giddy energy they had going last night.
Dante immediately takes a step away from them. “Neither of you people is getting anywhere near my head.” he snaps, narrowing his eyes. He can’t help his mouth quirking up almost imperceptibly.
“Aww! C’mon, Dante, be nice! Promise we’ll be real careful.” Moss makes one of those faces they are so good at—like a starving baby deer—that makes even me feel a little bad for them, despite knowing there is nothing behind it but playfulness.
Dante sighs and closes his eyes.
“Fine. But I’ll only let Percy do it.”
That catches me entirely off guard. Me? Why me?
“Awww, okay… I’ll try not to get too jealous of you guys being besties~”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll come around,” Princeton laughs along, shooting Dante an roguish grin.
My chest swells with warmth, and I am not sure if that is good or bad. It’s soothing, but in a way that… I decide I’d rather not think about too hard. I just let it sit there and try not to worry about it. I still trust my ability to recognize danger, and that is decidedly not what this is, so for now I shoot Dante a practiced smirk.
“Well, I’m flattered,” I say, throwing myself hard into the teasing banter. “If I didn’t know you, I’d almost think you actually trusted me, bestie”. This give-and-take is easy, it’s what we do. Dante pretends not to have emotions and we drag him about it; we dodge and weave around all of our unspoken agreements and invisible boundaries like ballroom dancing in a minefield. No one is actually pushing about the horns. We have accepted it as Just Another Dante Oddity. The same way no one actually asks about Princeton’s fighting style, or about Moss’s fear of buildings, or about my memory.
It’s what friends do.
Following after Princeton and Moss, we sit in a circle on the floor (one that seems more like a square with the four of us marking the corners): Moss sits down with Princeton behind her, Dante sits behind Princeton, and I close the chain sitting between it and Moss. As they explain the steps of some horn care routine, Dante turns slightly to whisper at me.
“You really need to do all this shit constantly?” It asks under its breath.
“I don’t think so?” I whisper back. “I’ve just been washing them in streams sometimes or putting salves on them when they hurt.”
It pauses for a second and then retorts “but like, if you want them to actually look good”.
I elbow it on the ribs. It laughs.
Equipped with towels, warm water, and a big container of something that smells fruity and sharp, it is declared that we will start simple with washing and cleansing. I hesitate for a moment to approach the long, black horns that almost tower above my face. If they were just shapeshifted a few hours ago, how dirty can they be? I feel heavy again, so I clench my jaw to snap out of it, dip a towel in the warm water, and start scrubbing.
Before I can fully puzzle out a way to do this *without thinking about it*, I feel an overwhelming pressure on one of my own horns. I can’t help jerking away from the touch as one would from open fire, and accidentally tug at Dante’s horn in the process.
“Sorry,” I utter without thinking.
“Ow, be careful with that! They’re shapeshifted, not fake.”
What’s the difference, really?
“Aw, I’m sorry, y’all!” Cries Moss in a soft, kind of bashful voice. “I shoulda said somethin’ before just goin’ in. I’ll try again and give ya a proper heads up this time, alright?”
It’s not Moss’s fault I overreacted, but I just nod. Now that I know what to expect, it will probably be fine.
I take a breath through my throat threatening to collapse in on itself and pick my own towel back up. “Oh, um, should I let you know when I start again, too, Dante?”
“Whatever’s fine. Just don’t yank again. I’m sensitive.”
I soften a bit at that, and make a mental note of it. Just step back into the dance.
“Okay, I’m gettin’ started now!” Moss calls, and goes back in. I know to brace for the touch now, so I only flinch slightly, but it still feels like poking a bruise over and over again. Like running a burn under warm water. I can feel my spine freeze from the inside out, every muscle in my back tighten.
It could be worse, I think. This is my friend, I think. This is what friends do. She is being nice to me and it would be rude and ungrateful to complain. I close my eyes and try to relax as she covers my horns with the slimy, tangy substance and rubs it in and towels it off. I let her scrub and wipe and pick and I try to force my jaw to unclench. This is what friends do. This is being cared for.
I make my best effort not to squirm.
Moss probably feels me tensing up anyway, because she giggles and presses down a bit harder on my shoulders. Don’t clench your hands, don’t hurt them.
“Relax and let me look after you for once, Percy!” I think I hear her chuckle and playfully pretend to scold me. “It’s okay to let others take care of you, y’know? You’re just like Princeton—look, there’s even golden bits on…” Her voice eventually becomes dim and incomprehensible, like we’re underwater. Keep your hands still, don’t hurt them, don’t pull—
A sudden scraping grinds roughly near the base of a horn; and I’m a branch being carved, and I’m an arrowhead skidding on stone, and I’m a match being struck.
“Yeah, Percy, relax!” Somewhere far away, Princeton’s voice slithers around my shoulders. Through the water, I see him reach out. “Just stay still and take it, it’ll pass before you know it…”
Another scalding touch on my shoulder. My vision goes black and whatever I was doing with my hands dissolves into white-hot fear.
I’m underwater. I’m on fire. I can’t see. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My hands are tied. My head is full of rocks. I can’t feel my feet. I can’t breathe. I am ashes and the wind is blowing me away. Molten gold burns its way down my cheeks and fills my mouth. I am a statue of volcanic rock that can never erupt.
Silence.
Then emptiness.
Then voices. Muddled and far away and afraid.
…it out! Hey, stop!...making h…
…ou okay? Oh, my, I’m so sorry, I…
…ook at her!...now you didn’t mean t…
…ere, let me… I’m so sorry, let me take th…
…n’t know if…touch her, we don’t know what t…
…n’t just sit here and wat…ve to do SOMETHING to help her!...
Numbness. Darkness. Warmth—not heat. Around my hands, a steadying, grounding pressure.
“You’re with us, Percy. You’re safe. Can you look at me?”
My eyelids fight back when I try to pry them open, but I manage to part them just enough to glimpse Princeton’s hands holding mine. I try to remember when the last time was I held someone else’s hands.
“That’s fine, good job.” I hear him continue. “Can you name five things you see for me, please?”
I feel a bit like I’m being tested, so I find my shaky voice to answer his question. I see his hands. I see the floor. I have to make an effort to turn my head slightly to get more things in my sight—the door, the beds, Dante’s pack.
Princeton guides me through the same exercise for every sense. I hear birds outside, my own cracking voice, steps on the room above ours, Dante’s tail thumping against the floor. I feel his hands on mine, the wooden floorboards under my legs, the weight of my pendant over my heart. I smell the gods-awful cleansing gel and Princeton’s breath (he makes a noise, and it unearths a quiet giggle from somewhere deep inside my lungs). I taste… Something sour, mostly.
By the time I start to wonder about herbal tea aftertaste, I am breathing again. I open my eyes all the way and look up at Princeton, whose face is probably the most worried I have ever seen another person. A pang of guilt threatens to send me back into panic.
“I’m sorr—”
“No. Hey, no. I’m sorry.” He interrupts me, face hardening into something very close to a pout.
“Me too,” Moss pipes up from beside him. Face hanging, looking at her own hands. “I should’ve realized sooner you were havin’ a bad time.”
“It’s not your fault, I…”
“Yes it is,” they assert, looking up with eyes full of quiet determination. “And I promise to never do it again.”
“Me too,” adds Princeton. “I… what I said. Was that a fucked up thing to say? In retrospect it really feels like kind of a fucked up think to say…”
“Yeah, Princeton,” Dante cuts in, “«just sit still and take it» is kind of a fucked up thing to say to someone!” His expression is a picture of unconcealed spite.
Put so plainly, even I have to admit it does sound fucked up.
After being covered with a blanket for a break and a breakfast run (I don’t feel hungry, but Dante brings me a sandwich anyway—and it does make me feel a little better), we decide I should probably sit out of the spa day. It makes me really sad about Moss and Princeton’s bonding activity though, and the thought of sitting to the side while everyone else hangs out makes the pit of my stomach tighten.
“I could still try to do Dante’s, right?” I test. “I was fine with that, just… I don’t think I can handle being touched right now.” I look at Dante. His face is inscrutable as ever. “If that’s okay with you?”
He seems to think about it for a moment before turning the flair back up to eleven.
“Fuck, man, I already said I’d let you do it. Knock yourself out.”
It’s like the fond irritation kicks a big chunk of fear out of my system, and I feel myself let out a single chuckle.
“No, I get it, this sort of frivolous matter is below you…”
“Have you met me?” He exclaims. None of us can help laughing, now, and I think I even see a smile peeking out from under his dramatics. “Alright, that’s it, we’re sitting at the back of the line, c’mon. Now I’ll make you groom me, you’ll see…”