Cerise walked down the hallway, peering into each cell in turn. A dour-looking girl. A big bulky man, ugly as a gourd. A weaselly-looking thief. A sharp-faced woman with a blue flame dancing on her fingertips. Every once in a while, the orb would dart over to one of them, bouncing as if to suggest it as a possibility, but none of them seemed like the sort of person Cerise would want to even live in the same village with, much less accept as a bodyguard.
She reached the end of the hallway, chagrined that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to fulfill the Sorceress’s order, but the very last cell held something different. A boy sat on the floor there — well, a grown young man, really, perhaps twenty years old, but he had a very young-looking face without a hint of beard or moustache on it, and ragged unkempt hair that seemed like it would look that way even if he brushed it. The blue orb darted over to his cell, illuminating him better. He looked up at her, and winced, realizing she wasn’t human.
“Hello,” she said.
“What *are* you?” he replied.
“The Sorceress turned me into — this. She calls it a ‘centaur.’ I don’t really know,” said Cerise.
“Geez,” said the boy, and it was obvious from his facial expression that he was torn between staring at her bare upper half and staring at impossibility of her lower half.
“You — seem more normal than most of the people here,” she said.
“I’m not really a thief,” he said. “I got duped into coming here, but she caught me and insisted I was trying to steal from her and threw me in here.”
“I know the feeling,” said Cerise. “She said I came here to steal from her too, and that’s why I’m now a horse.”
“That’s — really weird,” said the boy.
“You should try living it,” she said, shrugging.
He nodded.
“Um — she says I’m supposed to pick someone here to be my bodyguard, or partner, or something like that. You seem like the most normal person in here. Would you be willing to protect me for a while?”
He looked up. “Does that mean I’d be able to get out of here?”
“I think so,” she said. “I think if you agree, she’ll let us both go.”
“Well, then yes!” he said. “I’m not great with a sword, but if it gets me out of here, I’d be happy to guard you for a few days or weeks or whatever.”
She nodded. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Marren,” he said. “Two R’s and an E.”
“Well, Marren with two R’s and an E, nice to meet you. I’m going to tell the Sorceress I picked you, okay?”
He nodded.
She turned, somewhat awkwardly in the confines of the hallway, and then clopped back at a trot. Even if she was stuck like this, maybe having him as her protector would help. At least she wasn’t alone. She came to a stop in front of the Sorceress, who was comfortably reclining on a nonexistent bench at the end of the hall.
“Well?” said the Sorceress.
Cerise pointed behind her. “The boy, Marren. He seems a lot more normal than the rest of these. I choose him.”
The Sorceress shrugged. “Fair choice.” She sat up, the sparkles under her disappearing and rearranging to hold her, and then stood up.
“Marren!” she cried down the hallway, raising a hand high. In the distance, the cell clanked, and Cerise could see from the flicker of light that the cell door had opened. “Come here! You have been chosen!”
A figure shambled down the hallway toward them nervously, and stopped a few feet away from the both of them. He looked up at Cerise, marvelling at the sight of the beautiful, impossible horse-girl.
“Now then,” said the Sorceress, “if you promise not to return to my Tower without my permission again, and you promise to be the perfect bodyguard and partner for my lovely creation here for a period of no less than *one* year, you will be free to go.” She pointed at him with a sharp fingernail.
“A year?” said Cerise.
“A year?” he echoed, startled.
“Take the offer, I don’t really care,” she said. “The girl or the jail cell.”
“The girl!” he stammered, stomping a foot. “Please, I don’t want to be stuck here anymore. I don’t mind protecting her. She seems nice.”
The Sorceress raised an eyebrow. “So you agree to be her perfect bodyguard and partner?”