felt so good to be able to walk more than four feet in any given direction. And I wasn’t half the size of the yeti either.
The she-yeti rattled the side of her cage, like she could hear my thoughts and was agreeing wholeheartedly. The thought of a psychic yeti was almost too much to take. My hands started shaking uncontrollably as I took out the lock on her door with another application of acid from my shirt. But when I stepped away from the opening, she just shook her head and pointed to her neck. I’d forgotten about the collar.
“Let me take a look,” I said.
She stooped obediently, and my heart sank. I’d been hoping for a snap or a button or something difficult to remove with claws. But this thing was literally welded onto her. No way was I going to get it off without dissolving it. I had enough acid, but it’s one thing to burn your way through a fence; it’s another thing entirely to pour acid on a yeti.
“I can try to take it off,” I said reluctantly, “but I don’t want to burn you.”
I meant it too. The tip of my finger was already starting to blister, and I’d only gotten a little smear of acid on it. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I screwed up and wiped the toxic stuff all over the side of the yeti’s neck. But she just tossed her head disdainfully and dropped into a crouch. And really, I had to concede that it would be better to live with a chemical burn than to be trapped in a cage for the rest of your life. Maybe her fur would protect her.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even when I let out a nice long breath. (This is why I’ve never role-played a monk; my meditative skills suck.) But I managed to get the collar off, along with a nice handful of fur. Now she looked like a leper yeti. I wasn’t about to tell her that, though, because I always tried to keep my manners even during a crisis.
As soon as the metal was free of her skin, the she-yeti turned from a nice, mild-mannered creature into a very big, very hairy instrument of destruction. Not that I could blame her; I’d only spent about a half hour in the cage and already I’d started feeling a little twitchy. The yeti stood up. And up. And up. In fact, she stood so vigorously that she took the ceiling off her cage with a screech and rattle of abused metal. Then she barreled out and began tearing into all the other cages.
I followed her into the he-yeti’s cage and removed his collar. He still didn’t move, and I knew it wasn’t because of those pitiful cuffs. I ran my hands through his coarse fur but couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He lifted his tired eyes to mine, and then I’d had it. I was about to stage a mass jailbreak of mythological creatures, and I wasn’t going to let some depressed yeti screw that up.
“Listen here,” I muttered, leaning down to speak right in his pointed ear. “You will get up and lead the rest of your buddies out of these cages, or I’ll kick your butt myself. And I’m half your size. You’ll never be able to live it down.”
He lifted his head and looked at me uncertainly.
“Trust me.” I offered a hand. “You don’t want to look like a wuss in front of your girlfriend. Girls hate that. And if you can avoid getting your head shoved into a toilet, it’s highly recommended.”
He chuffed at me and got awkwardly to his feet, ignoring my offer of help. And then he snapped his cuffs apart. They still circled his wrists, but I had bigger things to deal with. The commotion from inside the building had quieted, and I wasn’t sure if that meant Tobias was out of commission or he was about to come outside and start shooting. I figured I’d better be prepared for either possibility.
“All right,” I said to the yeti. “You go stand next to the door, and if that jerk comes out, clonk him. Don’t wait. Don’t give him an opportunity to dork with your head. Just do it. We’ll get everyone else out.”
The yeti lumbered over to stand next to the door, and
The she-yeti rattled the side of her cage, like she could hear my thoughts and was agreeing wholeheartedly. The thought of a psychic yeti was almost too much to take. My hands started shaking uncontrollably as I took out the lock on her door with another application of acid from my shirt. But when I stepped away from the opening, she just shook her head and pointed to her neck. I’d forgotten about the collar.
“Let me take a look,” I said.
She stooped obediently, and my heart sank. I’d been hoping for a snap or a button or something difficult to remove with claws. But this thing was literally welded onto her. No way was I going to get it off without dissolving it. I had enough acid, but it’s one thing to burn your way through a fence; it’s another thing entirely to pour acid on a yeti.
“I can try to take it off,” I said reluctantly, “but I don’t want to burn you.”
I meant it too. The tip of my finger was already starting to blister, and I’d only gotten a little smear of acid on it. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I screwed up and wiped the toxic stuff all over the side of the yeti’s neck. But she just tossed her head disdainfully and dropped into a crouch. And really, I had to concede that it would be better to live with a chemical burn than to be trapped in a cage for the rest of your life. Maybe her fur would protect her.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even when I let out a nice long breath. (This is why I’ve never role-played a monk; my meditative skills suck.) But I managed to get the collar off, along with a nice handful of fur. Now she looked like a leper yeti. I wasn’t about to tell her that, though, because I always tried to keep my manners even during a crisis.
As soon as the metal was free of her skin, the she-yeti turned from a nice, mild-mannered creature into a very big, very hairy instrument of destruction. Not that I could blame her; I’d only spent about a half hour in the cage and already I’d started feeling a little twitchy. The yeti stood up. And up. And up. In fact, she stood so vigorously that she took the ceiling off her cage with a screech and rattle of abused metal. Then she barreled out and began tearing into all the other cages.
I followed her into the he-yeti’s cage and removed his collar. He still didn’t move, and I knew it wasn’t because of those pitiful cuffs. I ran my hands through his coarse fur but couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He lifted his tired eyes to mine, and then I’d had it. I was about to stage a mass jailbreak of mythological creatures, and I wasn’t going to let some depressed yeti screw that up.
“Listen here,” I muttered, leaning down to speak right in his pointed ear. “You will get up and lead the rest of your buddies out of these cages, or I’ll kick your butt myself. And I’m half your size. You’ll never be able to live it down.”
He lifted his head and looked at me uncertainly.
“Trust me.” I offered a hand. “You don’t want to look like a wuss in front of your girlfriend. Girls hate that. And if you can avoid getting your head shoved into a toilet, it’s highly recommended.”
He chuffed at me and got awkwardly to his feet, ignoring my offer of help. And then he snapped his cuffs apart. They still circled his wrists, but I had bigger things to deal with. The commotion from inside the building had quieted, and I wasn’t sure if that meant Tobias was out of commission or he was about to come outside and start shooting. I figured I’d better be prepared for either possibility.
“All right,” I said to the yeti. “You go stand next to the door, and if that jerk comes out, clonk him. Don’t wait. Don’t give him an opportunity to dork with your head. Just do it. We’ll get everyone else out.”
The yeti lumbered over to stand next to the door, and
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