It had been half a week since Tara’s visit to the Mage’s Pages and she had calmed down somewhat, which she had achieved by simply denying she had ever had those thoughts and avoiding Chrissy.

Today she had done so by visiting the Hobbs farm, watching her brother work with three animals that technically were hers. A donkey, Bucephelus, A llama, Rocinante, and a Zebra, Shaka. Her father had purchased them under the impression they had been horses.

They had been stabled at the Hobbs farm, and were currently being exploited by the man, and by extension Sawyer, to offer rides to local children. It was fine with Tara, she had wanted a horse, not any of these animals.

She watched her brother trying to keep control of a birthday party, where the children ran this way and that, each wanting to be the first to the animals or get as far away from them as possible.

The llama ran, the donkey meekly accepted his fate and the zebra was being kept away from the children, its violent temper not beneficial to a successful business

Her brother chased after the children for a time and, when he finally had the, prepared to get each of them on the donkey or the llama.

When the show was over, Tara released the fence she’d been leaning on and sauntered to the bench in front of the white farmhouse. She hadn’t written in a few days, and somehow felt guilty to A’rat, despite the barbarian being a figment of her imagination. As such, she had decided to go to the farm, so she wouldn’t be distracted by any of the stuff at her house.

The bench was the perfect spot. She sat down and started to think how she best could include the animals into her story.

Chrissy had been glad to have the day off at first, though after she found out Tara wasn’t home (again), she regretted not going into the city with her mom. Then again, the store was close and she was doing inventory.

Chrissy was easily bored, however, Chrissy rarely planned ahead for more than an hour and her boredom would generally be replaced by whatever thought popped into her head next. She had come to the conclusion that today was an excellent day for drawing. Target; the zebra at her grandfather's.

She had walked there, feeling stupid that she had chosen to wear her leather jacket and had bunched the heavy garment haphazardly under her arm. She turned onto her grandfather’s property, then saw a familiar face. Tara!

Tara did not notice her, too caught in scribble away in her notebook. Chrissy considered bothering the girl, then it occurred to her that this was a perfect opportunity.

She sat down in the shade of a tree, got her pencil and paper out and started to draw.

Tara returned home in the mid afternoon to find an envelope on the kitchen table, addressed to A’rat the Barbarian, though in a handwriting so bad it took her five attempts to decipher what it said.

Confused, she opened the envelope, which had not been sealed properly, and took out a large sheaf of paper. On it, was a drawing of a woman sitting cross-legged on a tree stump, balancing a sword on its tip in the dirt. The woman had an impressive crop of hair, though not as impressive as the bare bust.

Tara blushed and placed it face down on the table, then peeked again. The face seemed familiar.

When she put it face down again, she saw a note on the back which took her some effort to read.

‘Tara,

I hope you’re not mad at me, but I saw you and drew you. I drew you as A’rat.

Hope you like it!”

– Chrissy.’

Tara turned it over again and studied the drawing. She placed her hands on her chest, compared it to the drawing, then giggled. She looked up when she suddenly heard feet enter the kitchen.

“Oh,” her mother said, “You found it. What is it?”

Tara, her hands still on her chest, turned to her mother, who just seemed confused at the pose.

She dropped her hands to her side, then rushed to turn the paper over, trying to hide it from her mother.

Mrs Brooks snatched it up and studied it.

“Oh,” she finally said, “That’s nice. Is it A’rat?”

Tara nodded.

“Where’s her shirt?”

Tara shook her head, unsure how to respond.

“Is A’rat cross-eyed? Did she get hit with a spell or something?”

Tara was about to respond, then simply cocked her head, “What?”

Mrs Brooks showed her the picture again, “See. Cross-eyed. Aside from that she looks just like you though, who drew it?”

“Chrissy.”

“Go thank her.”

“Yes, mom…” Tara mumbled, “Can I have it back?”

“Shall I have it framed for you?”

“What? Why?”

“It’s really nice. I’ll take it next time I go to the hospital.”

“Don’t be weird, mom.”

“It could be the cover of the first A’rat book! When you get published!”

“If I get published, mom….”

“When,” Mrs Brooks said decisively, “Now go thank Chrissy.”

“Yes, mom…”

Tara sighed, leaving the kitchen via the scullery, dreading seeing her neighbor girl

When she put on her shoes, she suddenly realized. Chrissy had no idea… As long as Tara would act normal, it’d be fine.