“Pardon my French, but, uhh what the hell are you?”

Pyroshir shook his flaming mane. “Hell? Ha! Never been that far up, my man. You are lookin’ at a bona fide sulfurous core strider. Purest of all the fire and earth there ever was and ever will be,” the fire-elemental-horse-fellow boasted.

I looked at Parsnip, who was wedging herself against a wall to create a modicum of personal space. “Uh-huh. Well, I’m Dennis. You alright if I cast I.D. Monster?”

“Ain’t no thang, go right ahead. Betta if we get to know one another anyway.”

While readying the spell, I took note of his suave tone and… hood-ish(?) dialect. I finished casting and it worked like a charm, registering no deliberate magic resistance. Well, the first step functioned right. It seized up on the second step where it should've referenced the library of monsters. The spell crackled and made a little image in the air, initially showing static, then a face.

“Who broke my spell?” barked a grumpy wizard, his white beard disheveled and his hat crooked.

“I did, sir. Looks like it failed to identify.”

“Point the creature out then,” he ordered in a huff. I did as requested and he visibly jumped the moment he turned around.

“Bloody Hells!” He spun back about. “How did you find a sulfurous core strider and not know what it is? The only reason you’d ever see one is you read about it and mounted an expedition below the Hells! Why do you have one in a stable?”

I held up a hand. “Look, all I can say is that some bullshit happened. Now tell me, what is a core strider?”

He straightened up with a frown. “A sulfurous core strider is a class-A dual earth and fire elemental. They live off the life energy of the core, do not eat, do not defecate, and do not require rest. They are intelligent, speak a language known only to them, and value their freedom above all else. I do not know why that one is there, but do not under any circumstances try to control it. It will kill you if it thinks you are limiting its freedom.”

Pyroshir raised his head. “Yo I like praise as much as the next mo’fucka, but getcho facts straight, my dude. I ain’t gonna murder the homie.”

The wizard wheeled about, then faced me again. “I HAVE TO SEE THIS IN PERSON. THE SPELL DOESN’T HAVE LONG LEFT, BUT YOU MUST–”

And then he was deleted from existence (or the spell ended, whichever narrative you prefer). I considered calling him back, but the prospect of another powerful and obsessive wizard in my life was… yeah, no thanks. I looked at my new mount with some concerns.

“So… no murder?”

“Nahhhh… well, if I gotta say, yeahhh. Any fool tryna ride me yesterday woulda got iced. But every time I look atchu and think about helpin’ you witcho shit, I just feel all warm and gooey inside.”

I scratched my head. “You sure that’s not just your insides being magma? And what about other people?”

“Nah. My insides are magma, but it’s a separate feeling, dawg. Trust. For other peeps, I’ll help anyone that you call a homie. Beyond that, fuck ‘em. Dunno why. Maybe Grunny-boy just made my mind that way.”

“Sounds like slavery, but alright,” I muttered as I finally remembered to close the stable door behind me. It was a bit cramped for the three of us, and Parsnip voiced her objection with some annoyed huffing.

“I mean, iss as much slavery as pretty girl right here workin’ for you, you feel me?”

His point made me shrug with concession. “I guess you’re right. So, you’ll work for me and that’s great. You seem reasonable and strong. You’re also a bit… conspicuous. Do you have any way to blend in? I don’t want heads turning all the time.”

He shook his mane. “Ain’t no hiding this beauty, maaan,” he started as his red-hot hooves darkened. “I’m the cream of the crop! The prettiest pony! The bell o’ the ball!” he boasted as his flaming mane and tail turned to more mundane black hair. “Ain’t no trick or thang that’ll change that,” he finished, looking like a plain—albeit melanistic—horse.

I blinked. “Uhh, you sure, dude? Look at yourself.”

“Yeah I’m–” he began, stalling the moment he inspected his body. “Damn, you right! That’s some new shit right there. I guess I blend.”

“Fantastic, you know what? I’m not even gonna question it, that’s just great. What about care? I know what the wizard told me, but what do you say? Are you a needy fellow? Food, water, bedding, brushing, general attention?”

Pyroshir flicked his mane. “I’m a cool cat, homie. Ain’t nothin’ I need. Down in the core it was just run, fight, fuck, and roll around in the cozy magma. None o’ them’s a ‘need’. If you busy as yo suga daddy say, then just workin’ on jobs will be all I need to feel good.” He paused a moment, then looked at the wall. “Maybe a nice steel brush though, right there on the wall to scratch m’balls. Yeah, that’d be real cash money of you.”

I clapped my hands together. “You know what? If you’re that low maintenance, you can frickin’ have a ball-scratcher. Just don’t call Grunnus my sugar daddy, please. Now, I’m gonna take Parsnip down to the bigger stable, since she’s cramped here. How about some… uh… team-building activity for us tomorrow, does that sound alright?”

“Issa date, G. I’mma statuize ‘til then. Lata.”

At that, he turned to solid stone in the blink of an eye. Parsnip and I shared a look, then I tied on a lead and escorted her to the company stable without any protest whatsoever. It was a bit of a walk back and I opened the door to Matti peeking into the hall from the kitchen.

“What took so long?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“It was a new horse… in my stable for one. I had to take Parsnip somewhere that had room.”

I De-shoed, walked into the kitchen and plonked the bowl of sealed chili onto the table from my bag. She’d set the table nicely, a spot for me and my dinner, and a tall glass of stove-heated blood for her.

“Just a horse? It didn't sound like it from here,” she inquired, then sitting across from me with a raised eyebrow and a mortar and pestle in hand.

I popped the seal and smelled the goodness, snatching a spoon and getting ready to stuff my face. “No, not just a horse. Something called a sulfurous core strider,” I explained as I took a bite.

Matti stopped grinding whatever spice she had and blinked rapidly. “A… a what?”

I banished the pile of half-chewed meat and beans to the corners of my mouth. “You heard me.”

After a moment, she started to slow-nod and resumed her spice grinding with bulged eyes. “All… right then. I’ll have to see it with my own eyes.”

She dumped the red powder into her glass of blood, then stirred it with a dainty little spoon that would’ve 100% been for cocaine if it had a shorter handle. I perked an eyebrow and actually swallowed to speak that time.

“What’s with the spices, by the way?”

Matti snapped back into reality. “Oh, it’s cinder spice and dried habanero. Today helped me realize that I need to have more pain tolerance.”

I side-eyed her for a moment, then scooched my chair back to get my knees out of involuntary-kicking range. She didn’t notice or didn’t care, taking a swig and frowning.

“Well that doesn’t seem so bad,” she commented.

“Ohh, nooo, Matti, you said the thing. You poor girl.”

She looked at me with confusion, then concern as I watched the burn set in. Life lesson #502 (probably a lower number if you’re Hispanic) never, EVER diss the burn before it kicks in. Her body tensed, her legs kicked up, narrowly missing my poor, innocent kneecaps. Her face contorted in pain as she opened her mouth to snarl all that angry vampire aggression.

“Man, you just had to jump in the deep end with yet another thing. Cinder spice and habanero ground up? That gives it more surface area on your tongue, i.e. more intensity.”

Her gaze snapped onto me again, fangs reflexively extended and eyes glowing brightly. “NOT. HELPING.”

“Right, I’ll get you some milk.”

……

I rose from bed with the sun, Matti following soon after. I bathed, she followed suit. I dressed, she dressed. I ate… she abstained, feeding Grif and Varia instead. She had downed the whole glass of spiced blood last night; an impressive display of willpower… and questionable stubbornness. I was caught between thinking of teaching her to go with the flow a little more, and considering the fallacy of getting together with a ‘fixer-upper’. (No, you can’t just ‘fix’ him or her. Most partners remain the same amount of busted throughout, or heck, they could get even worse if you decide to have a kid. Marry someone you can stick with after they’ve gone off the deep end, not someone who you had to dredge up from the ocean floor to tolerate in the first place.)

Of course, I wasn’t one to judge so soon. I usually gave a bad employee two weeks to get their head on straight, so why get all itchy with Matti? I didn’t need to fix her, as she’d already expressed interest in handling that her damn self. Good on her, I don’t need another trouble to solve in my life. I had a nice fried egg sandwich with seared tomato slices, cheese, and mayo, then got ready to head out and get a little riding in. She followed, of course. I imagine that she would have been talking non-stop about the rare and awesome nature of core striders… if her throat wasn’t closed for repairs from the drink of doom.

I undid the stable’s simple lock as she fidgeted behind me, seemingly excited and perturbed. It opened with a click and I ushered her in. There Pyroshir was, standing up and looking pretty normal. She stood up straight and regarded him with suspicion.

“That… is no sulfurous core strider. That is a normal horse that maybe has some enchantment or something,” she explained dismissively, and with a cutely scratchy voice.

Pyroshir looked at her and… smiled, I guess? “Neigh, bitch.”

There was a long pause in the room as he shook his mane, causing sparks to fly. “I identify as a strider, and there ain’t no thang you can do to change that, you catch my drift?” he declared with a fiery huff.

Matti held up a finger, then curled it and grimaced. “I… apologize. But I have never heard of a strider willingly serve anyone, or be able to appear as a typical horse.”

“I ain’t never heard o’ one either. But here I am, rockin’ it. And donchu dare say I look typical! I. Am. Shiny.” He looked at me next. “This yo girl, homie?” I nodded firmly. “I’ll keep my opinions to myself, then. What’s the plan, boss man?”

I looked at Parsnip’s saddle on its mount. “Well I was thinking of a nice countryside horseback jaunt for the three of us. You get to see the area, flex some muscle to impress us, and we get to stop and smell the roses a little bit while getting to know one another. Sound alright?”

“Fo’ sizzle.”

……

We rode along the countryside, skirting the woods and crossing fields. It was a misty morning that slowly gave way to a bright, sunny day. Matti seemed displeased, as she’d been forced to leave her hat off, lest the wide brim catch on literally anything. She held onto my waist as Pyroshir trotted, clearly just warming up.

“You don’t have to be this tense, Dennis,” she commented.

That was a bit out of left field. I jerked my head and looked over my shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“It’s an instinct thing. You seldom realize it, but you always face me. Even in bed, you sleep on your side, eyes toward me. Always, always you keep me in front of you. We vampires have a term for this, coined some time ago by a Gods’ Chosen: Fangxiety.”

While she was a little right, in hindsight, I couldn’t help but snicker at the wordplay. “Yeah, I could see that. I am a bit paranoid sometimes.”

Pyroshir looked back at me. “Brotha, that wizard alone gave me the creeps, and you acted like he was nothin’. You betta have a good therapist if that’s the shit you deal with on the daily, dawg.”

She huffed, amused by his statement. “He’s right. You have enough pent-up tension that I could poke your neck with two fingernails and you’d spring right off this saddle.”

“A saddle that feels a little tight, by the way,” Pyroshir interjected.

I shook my head. “We’ll getcha measured later today, new fittings and stuff just for you. Now, let’s see some of that speed.”

“Oh yeah, it’s all me, baby.”

He stopped, reared onto his hind legs, and burst into a sprint that put the ‘power’ in horsepower.

……

We came to a full and complete stop with our hair swept back by the wind. Matti was holding on for real now, not just for show. Pyroshir kicked the ground and shook his mane.

“And that’s how it’s done, kids. Y’all still in one piece up there?”

I finished setting my hair back to it its normal straightness (messiness) and unclamped Matti from my back. “I gotta say, your speed is… blazing.”

“Ha, nice. Anything else you want done?”

I gave Matti a glance, offering a chance for input that she spurned with a shake of her head. My gaze returned forward and I thought for a moment. “How about you take us to like, thirty feet from that tree that sticks out from the woods over there.”

He bucked his head. “Ehh, okay. ‘Sfiiiine.”

The request seemed a little below his expectations and he cantered over to the tree, which I put on a salty face for.

“Hey! I have a girlfriend! Buzz off and go get a job, hippie” I flicked the reins. “HIYAA!”

……

All in all, Pyroshir was a swell dude. Whatever brainwashy-thing Grunnus put in his mind totally eliminated the alleged freedom-or-murder stuff, and he was happy to lend a hoof. Personally, I’m unsure about the morality of forcing someone into servitude, then changing their brain so they’re happy to do so. On further thought, it’s kinda fucked, but I’m not paid to think about that shit, and Pyroshir's immortal so I chose to not give a damn for the time being.

I dropped Matti off and went to go get Pyroshir measured for some fitted barding. He’d need it to be comfortable on our upcoming trip. But that’s boring, you don't want to hear about that. CUUUT! NEXT DAY.