A Hero's Curse by P. S. Broaddus

dinner like this,” I hiss.
    “Well, don’t.”
    I shrug off the jacket.
    “How do I look, Tig? Is this decent?”
    “You look deranged. Like a blue nightmare.” His voice is flat.
    “Really?”
    “Your hair is a wreck. And your clothes . . . well, they look like something you people would wear: stiff, cumbersome, scratchy, hot, and covers everything. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it, but it does look like a tunic. Everything looks big on you.”
    It doesn’t feel like any of those things. The tunic is soft, cool, and flexible. The britches are heavy but comfortable. But that’s Tig. Next the little salamander brings out a pair of boots. They are hopelessly big on my small feet and skinny legs. They nearly come up to my knees.
    I kick them off and shrug. “I have my own shoes, but I’ll go barefoot for now. I love the way this moss feels.”
    “We’ll have to fix that before we leave,” says Tig.
    “True. My soft shoes would be torn to shreds on the sharp rocks outside, and I don’t want to go skipping through the Valley of Fire barefoot.” I try brushing my hair with my fingers but it feels pretty hopeless. Tig directs me to a basin of water, and that helps some.
    “Am I ready?” I ask a few moments later.
    “I don’t know, are you ready? I hope so. I’m starving. They didn’t give me anything yet.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “I guess. You don’t look the best I’ve ever seen you, but considering you were just attacked by a rock basilisk, I’d say that ‘alive’ fits you pretty well.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 9
 
    T ig hops onto my shoulders and I wince. I’m still sore. Tig catches my flinch and adjusts immediately. It feels good to have him back on my shoulders, even if it is twenty extra pounds. Our salamander guide is joined again by several others. I do a test walk around our small room, letting my feet take a little spring with every step, enjoying the feel of cool moss.
    “The floor looks like a deep, blue, spongy carpet,” Tig says. “It’s giving off a glow, so the cavern is lit up quite a bit.”
    “Really? I’ll bet that’s pretty. It feels great.” I mean it. I have never walked on anything so delightful.
    “Also,” says Tig, “there are pinpricks glowing in the moss. They look a lot like the lights from fireflies, but they aren’t moving. I think they must be some kind of glowing plant.”
    We are quiet for a moment. I suppose the salamanders are letting us get used to our new surroundings.
    “Deep blue carpet sprinkled with glowing lights . . .” I murmur. “I’ll bet it looks like we’re walking on the sky.”
    A little three-fingered paw takes my hand and tugs until I follow. As we walk out of the room Tig spits and hisses, scrambling down and shoots between my feet, sending me sprawling. Since I was holding an Urodela’s little paw I assume it’s been bowled over as well. I jump up but end up stepping on a piece of Tig. He yowls and sinks his claws into my new pants. Immediately something flutters and snaps, like the sound sheets make when Mom hangs them out to dry in the wind. I hear Tig hurled away from me. He ends up several feet away, spitting and yowling. I drop to a crouch, trying to determine where the danger is coming from when the small three fingered paw takes my hand again. I flinch at the contact but relax slightly. If the Urodela aren’t running around squeaking we are probably going to make it. Tig stops spitting. He walks back over to me, but not without a low growl in his throat. I hiss back to let him know just how upset I am. That catches him off guard. He stops growling at me.
    “What happened?” I ask. I know he’s wound up, but I risk putting an arm around him anyway. He’s twice his normal size and shaking.
    “The biggest and ugliest toad you’ve ever seen,” he says, his voice defensive. “But that’s not why I’m shaking,” he explains, “the toad just startled me.” He