Mouthy Gift Horse

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

On a steep mountain trail next to a ravine was exactly the wrong time for your stolid loyal mount to buck you off.

Reginald’s instinctive frantic grab for the saddle reduced his arc enough that he just managed to catch the edge of the cliff rather than making a graceful dive to the rocks below.

Spot turned her head to eye him.

“I-it’s alright, girl.” Reginald wheezed. Scrabbling his feet against the cliff until his upper half was mostly supported. “It’s alright…”

Step one, get back up. Step two, figure out what had spooked Spot.

Although… she now seemed calm. Entirely calm. If anything, her expression was annoyed.

With a brisk “clop clop” she delicately backed up so they were almost face-to-face.

"Ah! Clever girl!” Reginald grinned and reached for the halter - and Spot bit him. Not a playful nip but a crushing snap which the riding glove couldn’t protect again.

He screamed, only clinging to his tenuous supports though practice and terror.

“Ugh." Spot wrinkled her lips and spat in his face. “That polish tastes rank.”

The horror of the situation was now compounded by bewilderment.

“S-S-Spot…?”

While he’d found her in the sorcerers’ camp, there had never been any sign that she was magical, much less that she could talk!

Then she lifted her front legs, causing him to instinctively duck. But instead of kicking she twisted and shrank and stretched and-

Suddenly he was facing a middle-aged woman with freckles and brownie-blond hair.

She patted herself down, seemingly inspecting how the saddle and tack had changed to a plain woollen dress and set of leather bags. Her horseshoes were metal rings on each finger and a pair of metal soled boots. The halter and reins had become a hair net.

Shapeshifter. The rarest kind of sorcerer.

Part of him felt he should have checked, and part of him felt he couldn’t have known, and most of him was concerned with getting away alive.

Unfortunately… his bow and arrows were now hanging from her belt. His sword was on her other hip. His gear was in her bags. Even if she had no idea how to use any of it, she had seized the advantage.

He was clinging with one good arm to bare rock with his lower half dangling over a deadly fall.

“Anything to say for yourself?” Spot folded her arms and glowered. Those melting brown eyes and long lashes were suddenly far less cute.

“Say for…?” Reginald carefully shifted, trying to find better footing.

“You attacked my family, killed my parents and husband, and looted their corpses.” Spot draw his sword - awkwardly, as he’d hoped, but a single clumsy swipe would do the job.

“My job is to purge evil.” Reginald set his jaw. Dying with dignity might be all he had left.

“Evil?” Spot sucked in a sharp breath and gritted her teeth. “Alright then.”

While clumsy, the swipe was enthusiastic. And effective.

Prompt was “Write a fantasy story about a character and their animal companion who turns out to be their shapeshifting enemy.”