As the chaos descended again—Rajah rushing to fan the Princess, Cassian complaining about the cleanup costs, Rurik scolding me for being reckless—I patted the Chimera's head one last time.
It leaned into my touch, purring like a giant, scaly engine.
"Okay, big guy," I whispered. "Fun's over."
I dumped the remaining Sun-Root Buns into a napkin and tied it into a bundle. I hooked it onto the Chimera's goat-horn.
"Take this to-go," I ordered, pointing toward the deep woods. "Go back to your den. No eating hikers. No crashing picnics. And eat some leafy greens for that coat, you look terrible."
The Chimera looked at the bundle of food. It looked at me. It gave a three-headed nod of gratitude.
Then, with a swish of its snake-tail, it turned and lumbered back into the shadows of the forest, happily munching on a bun.
I stood up, dusting flour and dirt off my knees.
