One-horn to the rescue!

The reaction is exactly as you hoped. The people in the mob whirl at the noise of the door, and scatter screaming as you charge towards them. Only two people remain - the zebra, panting in relief, and a tallish man in a plaid shirt and jeans. Who is pointing a gun at you. You instinctively lower your head.

He misses. He never gets a second shot.

You pull your horn out of his chest, and turn to the zebra lady you'd come out to help. She flinches back from the blood, then suddenly whirls and starts to puke.

You bring her a glass of water and a towel, remembering to wipe off the worst of the blood before you come back out. She accepts the items with a wobble of the ears that somehow reads as an ironic smile.

"So much for 'zebras don't get ulcers', I guess," she says. "I ... what's going on? What do we do?"

"I don't know," you tell her, briefly surprised at the changes in your voice. "I think it might be those books that did it."

"Books?" the zebra says. "Oh! I haven't introduced myself. I'm Annette Douglas." She reaches out a hoof-like hand. You catch it automatically.

"Oh? Oh, Anne!" you say. "You're my neighbor!"

"Oh!" she replies. "Yeah, I saw you come out of the house! Hey, thanks, by the way."

"No problem." you say.

"What was that about books?" she asks.

Written by Robin Z

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