Broomstick - Part Ten

“He’ll scry the bosses and if they know him, he’s fine. But if they don’t, then we’ll slit his throat,” Dopey explained to the other six dwarves. “Simple.”

“Seems good enough to me,” Happy shrugged. I struggled to retain my composure. I needed a way out of this, fast.

“Okay,” I managed to say, “but they’ll get really mad that you guys stalled the plan just to check if I was on your side. For crying out loud, I helped steal the Nether Key with you!”

“The wolf’s got a point, but it can’t do any harm to check in with the Three. Better safe than in custody,” Bashful reasoned. “I’ll fill a bowl.”

He went to the bathroom to fill up a scrying bowl, and I surreptitiously glanced at the window. A two-story fall to the ground below didn’t seem so bad at the moment, and I was weighing my chances.

Happy smirked. “You’re gonna get caught, wolfie, and we’re gonna kill you and dump your body in an alley.”

That was the last straw. I bared my fangs and struck. I swept Happy off his stupid feet and onto the floor and then I bashed Grumpy in the face. Two down. Dopey yelled and swung a triple-flip kick that should be illegal, but I dodged it by mere inches and retaliated with an iron paw to his solar plexus. Sleepy, Doc, and Sneezy crowded around me, but I bouldered past them and to the door as Bashful came sprinting into the room. I wrenched it open and dove into the hallway, running for the nearest stairwell. I heard the dwarves noisily groping after me, but I shot down the staircase to the first floor by way of the banister.

I turned down a few hallways and opened one of the grandiose doors to the main ballroom. Safe at last. And tucked under my paw was a small black box.