At a snap of her fingers, several skeletons emerged from the ground and gave chase to the terrified Fluffy. They wouldn't tire, relent, or stop before he was done with his twenty laps.
"Garrik, why don't you help me?" It was barely the second lap, and the Byk was already panting.
"I don't mind that we always get last place, Fluffy, but I'm worried about you. You do nothing but eat and sleep all day." After a life of imprisonment and loneliness, Garrik wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone put his best friend on a diet.
Yet he had no problem letting someone else do his dirty job.
"Thanks, Mister Nok."
"Don't thank me and call me Nok, kid." The real Nok had taken Fluffy's place as Garrik's steed in the children's magical games.
"Only if you call me Garrik. I'm not a kid!" The young Fomor-Tyrant hybrid grunted.
"Sure thing, kid Garrik." Nok laughed while scoring with a powerful earth spell.
