A perfectly normal, totally average goat, standing there in the middle of a barely-lit chamber on the second floor of the Worsetingale Tower.
The stone ceiling above us had caved in long ago, and stray beams of light leaked through the cracks, striping its white fur in neat little lines.
"Have you ever watched those Gravity Falls fan theory videos?" I whispered,
Rina blinked. "What?"
"You know, the ones with the triangle dorito guy, the six-fingered book cover, CalArt style, gay-looking cast?"
"Dude…" Her face was blank, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh my god," I muttered, gesturing broadly with my sword. "Okay, so listen. Goats are fucking weird. They've got these rectangular pupils, like, what the hell even is that? What caused that? Evolution? Sorecery? It's just unnaturally creepy, and sometimes, they just, like, fucking- like, stare at you without moving as if they knew what I did in 2012."
