Welshen

“How big is this corn maze?” Nadia asked. “Big,” Havana yawned. “Very big,” Zephyr assured her, trotting ahead to the entrance. “But…” Nadia wasn’t sure that was an answer. There was an official looking kebanzu sitting at the entrance. He turned to the small group with a smile. “Map to help you through the maze?” he offered, gesturing with a tilt of his green horned head to a large board with an aerial view of the maze. Nadia peered at it. She blinked. Looked up at the official. Looked back at the map. Returned her gaze to the official. “Um… is the maze… um…” “Shaped after me? Yes,” he said, his smile turning mischievous. “Of course it is. I am Sam O’Hain, after all.” Right. Nadia blinked, but couldn’t deny that the maze looked very much like him, down to the cut of his green horns. Unimpressed, she said, “Yeah. Sure.” “Who needs a map?” Zephyr asked distastefully, stretching his legs for some reason, first leaning forwards and then backwards, tail high and alert as he worked his