Page 130 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

The little white creature stirred. Milo froze.

“No fucking way.”

Grievance crouched beside him. “What is it?”

“Help me with Marigold.”

Together, they carefully extracted the goat from the pile.

Marigold protested the entire time.

“BAAA!”

“You can cuddle your new friend later.”

Once Marigold was safely behind Milo, the creature finally revealed itself. And Milo’s mouth fell open.

Its front half was very feline. Thick white fur covered its chest and forelegs, striped through with faint streaks of icy blue. It had paws, complete with soft toe pads. Halfway down its body, fur gave way to shimmering scales, the pale hue of frozen lake water. Its hind legs were reptilian, ending in four clawed toes. And perched somewhat ridiculously on its back were two fluffy, feathered wings that were far too small for the rest of it.

Tiny twin horns curved from its skull as the creature nuzzled deeper into the straw, its front paws kneading sleepily as though searching for its stolen goat pillow.

“I’ve only ever read about them.”

Grievance glanced at him. “What is it?”

“A Glaceryn.” Milo could hardly believe he was saying the word aloud. “They’re incredibly rare.”

Milo couldn’t believe he was looking at one. He’d never seen an illustration of a baby, only the adults in his encyclopedia. Some folk called Glaceryns ice dragons, but they were actually more closely related to griffins despite their reptilian backsides.

One crystalline-blue eye opened. Then the Glaceryn’s ears flattened as it leaped to its feet.

“Hssssss!”

“Oh. Hello.”

It sneezed. A white cloud exploded from its nose. Milo had exactly enough time to blink before⁠—

WHUMP.

Snow blasted into his face.

For several seconds, there was silence. Milo stood perfectly still, covered from curls to chest in powdery snow.

Behind him⁠—

Grievance snorted.

“It’s not that funny,” Milo said, brushing snow from his clothes.

“Maybe not from where you’re standing,” his mate said with another chuckle.

A tiny squeak came from the hay. Milo turned back. The little Glaceryn shook itself, and that was when his amusement vanished.

It was thin. Far too thin.

The baby’s beautiful white coat was patchy in places, exposing too much of the narrow body beneath. Milo could make out the faint ridges of its ribs.

It sneezed again, this one strong enough to knock the little creature off its feet. A dusting of snow puffed from its runny little nose. The baby’s eyes were glassy, and the poor thing looked utterly exhausted. Milo’s healer instincts took over immediately.