Most of the group had already assembled in the hallway in front of the therapy room.

  Patricia was in the middle of giving a lengthy explanation about the different types of seaweed, her perfect smile as bright as ever. The cyclops, Bjorn, was staring blankly at her cheerful face, giving the impression that he couldn’t even spell seaweed if his life depended on it. Dora was listening with an indifferent frown, occasionally licking her paws.

  Ferdinand, or rather the jar that contained Ferdinand, had been placed on the floor next to the massive door, where the manticore was grooming its spiky scorpion tail.

  The centaur neighed at a joke the mermaid made. Bjorn’s expression remained as dull as ever — even the glasses he wore couldn’t change that.

  Their laughter subsided when they noticed Oscar and Flynn.

  “Good morning, Osthcar,” the centaur said with his characteristic lisp. “Good morning, Osthcar’sth companion.”

  He waved with his hooves and bowed courteously, his mane running down the brown back of his horse head. Flynn could tell the sight made the dragon nervous.

  “Hi Oscar,” the mermaid fluted, and her yellow eyes lit up.

  The manticore purred a very human purr, and the Cyclops grunted in acknowledgement. Dora hissed when she saw Flynn, flashing her sharp teeth, then gently meowed at Oscar.

  Ferdinand shifted his particles to get a better view.

  “Good morning, fellow aviator,” he exclaimed with a grainy voice. “A good day to roam the skies, isn’t it?”

  Oscar came to a halt a few steps in front of them, looming over everyone.

  “H— hi guys,” he said sheepishly.

  The large dragon inclined his head, almost taking down a wall-mounted torch in the process.

  “How are you feeling today?” the mermaid asked cheerfully, her pink air positively glowing.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you!” Patricia assured him and chuckled.

  “I’m doing okay,” Oscar rumbled, blinking twice.

  Patricia smiled and gestured for him to join their circle. Of course, that turned the circle into a rather awkward shape, with Oscar blocking most of the massive hallway.

  Flynn tried to stay back, forcing Oscar to fend for himself in the small talk that was about to unfold. It would do the dragon good, he thought.

  “Where is the cranky griffin?” Flynn whispered to the manticore next to him.

  The creature flinched in surprise, then turned his human head to face him.

  “You mean Apollo? I don’t know.” The lion shoulders of his body shrugged. “Now and then, he’ll miss a class. Elli never says why.”

  Flynn nodded, keeping his voice down so as not to interrupt the therapist’s introduction.

  “What’s your name again?”

  “Oh,” the manticore purred, as if not expecting any interest in his own persona. “My name is Clyde.”

  Elli’s firm voice cut through their whispered words before Flynn could respond.

  “Anything you want to share with the group, Flynn?” she asked without malice.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “I’m happy to hear that,” the therapist said with a wink.

  The manticore nervously grabbed his tail and started chewing on its stinger.

  “As I was saying,” Elli continued, “today we want to talk about how we handled problems and uncomfortable situations in the past. I know it’s not your favorite, but I gave all of you the assignment to come up with a memory of such a situation. It can be one you handled successfully, or, better yet, one where you thought you were out of your depth. We can then analyze what you could’ve done differently, if anything. As always, no one has to share, but everyone is welcome to. We are not here to judge, we are here to help.”

  Oscar shifted uncomfortably on his pillow. Fortunately for him, Elli didn’t prompt him directly this time around.

  “Are there any volunteers?” she asked instead.

  There was a brief silence, followed by the sound of a horse clearing its throat.

  “I would be delighted to do the honorsth, if I may,” the centaur said formally.

  “Thank you, Leonardo.”

  The horseman neighed and straightened his posture as much as he could, given his anatomy. A plaid kilt was covering his modesty, and white socks ran up his human feet all the way to his knees. He struggled to keep his balance with a head this large, but that didn’t seem to faze him.

  “I reckon it’s been almost ten years now, mind you. I was still a foalboy then, my head full of dreams, my mane in the clouds. The stables were my oyster, and life was simply marvelous in all its twists and twirls.”

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  The centaur smiled a gummy smile, his jaw slightly dislodged. After a moment of suspenseful silence, his expression grew more serious, with a hint of drama to it — which was impressive, given that he only had the facial features of a horse to work with.

  “But then the dreaded day came when a noble family visited our estate, and with them, they brought their ill-mannered son. Despite their station, neither parents nor child knew proper etiquette, and they mistreated the animals they found in the stalls. Then, in a most regrettable moment of carelessness, I let myself get noticed by the son. He had never seen anyone like me before— but then again, most people haven’t.”

  He paused and let his dark eyes survey the room, which he could do rather efficiently with one eye on each side of his horse head.

  “It came as it had to. The boy did his worst, and I still think back to his despicable actions to this day. His foul smile haunts me at night, when sleep won’t come, and it haunts me come day, when I see his face in strangers I pass on the street.”

  He let his words be felt.

  The mermaid had entangled her fingers in a tight knot of hair, and the manticore was almost choking on his tail — even Dora let out a mournful purr. Dread and tension were palpable, and they mixed with the sweet scent of lavender.

  Flynn looked the centaur up and down, trying to spot signs of physical abuse. But there were no scars to tell a tale.

  “So … what happened?” he asked, when Leonardo made no move to elaborate.

  The centaur sighed and stroked his kilt with his hooves.

  “He demanded to ride me.”

  The manticore squeaked in anguish, and the mermaid almost pushed herself off her pillow. Oscar puffed a tiny flame of shock.

  To Flynn, this was a rather mundane conclusion.

  “That’s it?” he asked after a moment of collective outrage.

  Leonardo looked at him in polite bewilderment, but was quick to regain his composure.

  “That was it, yes,” he affirmed.

  “And you let him?” the manticore asked quietly.

  The centaur bit his fleshy lip, his teeth large and yellow.

  “I am ashamed to admit it, but yes, I did. It is one of my most tormenting memories, and I still get goosebumps thinking back to it.”

  “Didn’t your parents try to stop the boy?” Patricia asked softly.

  Leonardo lowered his head. “They were afraid of the repercussions. Our stables were in need of funding, and this family, for all their shortcomings, had held out the prospect of much-needed financial aid.”

  “So … they sold you?” Flynn asked, suddenly feeling sorry for the horseman.

  “They sold my dignity. And theirs. As I waded through the mud on all four hooves and hands, that spoiled boy on my back, I knew I could never look them in the eyes again. They watched me when I was at my lowest. That is how they will always remember me.”

  “Parents should be the ones to help you when you’re at your lowest,” the mermaid murmured.

  Leonardo cracked a sad smile. “Even if they are the ones who put you there?”

  He neighed and shook his head. “Alas, I can’t even blame them. I didn’t stand up for myself, either — literally.”

  And uncomfortable silence followed, leaving all of them room to develop their thoughts.

  “I am very sorry to hear about your hardship,” Elli said softly. “I think we can all agree that something like that would not happen to you today — not with all the progress you’ve made already.”

  “Thank you,” the centaur said and inclined his hooves.

  “Who can tell me what method of conflict management Leonardo employed in this memory he shared?” the therapist asked into the room.

  The cyclops raised his bulky hand.

  “Yes, Bjorn?”

  “Cowardice.”

  It was the first properly articulated word to leave his mouth.

  Elli pursed her lips, then smiled patiently. “Thank you, Bjorn. But maybe we should not call it that, hm?”

  “Obedience,” Flynn offered.

  “How about we call it avoidance? Or acceptance?”

  “That sounds like the absence of a method,” he muttered.

  Elli’s mask of patience held firm.

  “It might seem that way at first,” she said calmly. “But those are strategies one can employ when faced with conflicts. But I can tell we agree that they are not the best methods.”

  A couple of group members nodded, Bjorn among them.

  The therapist turned her focus back to Leonardo.

  “Do you think, with all you’ve learned, that you would’ve acted differently today?”

  The centaur considered her question for a moment.

  “Most definitely. In hindsight, I should’ve asked the young gentleman to refrain from proposing such an undignified action.”

  Flynn snorted. “I doubt that would’ve made a difference. Rich kids are used to getting what they want.”

  “What would you propose, then?” the therapist invited.

  “If I had those hooves of yours,” Flynn said and gestured at the centaur, “I would’ve kicked — or boxed? — that boy hard enough to stop his lineage, if you get my meaning.”

  A collective gasp erupted from everywhere at once.

  “So you are proposing violence?” Elli asked skeptically. “To a child?”

  “I would call it education.”

  “By means of violence?”

  Flynn rolled his eyes.

  “I like it,” the cyclops grunted.

  “Look,” Flynn said, ignoring the therapist, “if you are being bullied, you have to show strength. That’s the only thing bullies respect.”

  Elli frowned. “I’m not sure it’s that simple, Flynn. Besides, not everyone is in the position to fight back.”

  “Not with that attitude,” he growled.

  To his surprise, the centaur jumped to his aid.

  “I think I understand what Mr Flynn is alluding to,” he said with a wave of his hooves. “While a bit excessive, I do think an approach like his would’ve proven to be rather effective.”

  “Hit them where it hurts,” the cyclops murmured in agreement.

  “No, Bjorn,” Elli said firmly, raising her hand. “We talked about that. Violence is not the answer.”

  “It depends on the context and the level of violence,” Flynn muttered, and the cyclops gave him an approving nod.

  The discussion took a couple more turns before Elli finally suggested moving on. Leonardo seemed satisfied.

  “Well, let’s see if the next example will spark an equally … diverse … conversation,” she concluded dryly.

  Oscar, who’d been awfully quiet so far, shifted on his large pillow.

  The therapist gave him a probing look, her blue eyes softening. Before she had to open her mouth, the dragon answered the unspoken question.

  “I can try, if you’d like me to.”

  “We most certainly do,” Elli assured him, and a few of the group members smiled encouragingly.

  The mermaid gave Oscar two thumbs up, the centaur clapped his hooves.

  Oscar exhaled slowly, blowing hot air through the room.

  “Alright, here it goes,” the dragon rumbled, and Flynn braced himself against the rim of the pillow.