35 The baby sleeps in my arms as I stand on shore, waiting for Mavis. It’s small and helpless, yet so sweet and warm at the same time. The manticore had cuddled against me when we passed through the portal, then nuzzled my chest, purring as I shifted and flew us to the island. How can anyone hate this tiny baby? A cat runs toward me on the sand, brushes against my legs, then walks away, beckoning me to follow. Mavis leads me to a small boat, crewed by a trio of manticores. One jumps down and stalks toward me, its scorpion’s tail flicking from side to side. “You’re the one who saved my niece?” she asks, her face filled with hope. “I am.” I hand her the baby. She sits the baby on her lap to give her a quick examination. “She looks happy and well-fed. Thank you,” she says, looking away

