Chapter 24
In our present situation, despite the obvious impending doom surrounding us, I couldn’t help but admire Ferdinand’s body. Presently I was meshed around his upper torso, waist to shoulders and most of the back of the head, my own body’s strands spread out thinly, like an especially flimsy shirt of chain mail, coif included, my own head dangling from his waist like a drinking gourd on a belt pouch, my bow and almost empty quiver hooked over what little neck I retained. Thankfully I hadn’t needed to perform a similar meshing with his lower body in our (fortunately successful) attempt to get him through the forcefield. If that had been necessary, I think that a fair number of my neural processors might have overheated: curse my anthropomorphic sensibilities.
What I mean b
