Yukon Gold had only a few moments to consider his situation. He could still hear El Patata shouting, “Santora!” off in the distance, but he was a bit more concerned about the very loud “Moo” that sounded much closer — and much more threatening. Yukon Gold wasn’t sure what “Santora” meant, but the menace in the “Moo” was unmistakable. He turned, slowly, afraid of what was keeping him company in the otherwise deserted forest.
“Jakob?” Yukon Gold could be forgiven the confusion. Instead of a young, handsome-yet-morose human, or even a fearsome-yet-morose werewolf, a large black and white Holstein glared at him. How she did so with such large, gentle, brown eyes, Yukon Gold couldn’t fathom, but it made her look demented, if not morose. “Well, fry me up and serve me for breakfast, boy! What happened to you?”
“Moo.”
“What do you mean, you’re stuck? As a cow or as a female?”
“Moo.”
“Both? And you want me to do what?”
“Santora!” Was it Yukon Gold’s imagination, or did that sound much closer than the last one? He wondered if this “Santora” invocation — whatever it meant — worked like thunder, as in the number of seconds between the lightning flash and the rumble indicated how far away the storm was. Then he realized there was no lightning to presage the “Santora” call to tell him when to start counting, and abandoned the theory. Besides, there was a bigger problem in front of him. Literally.
“Moo!” Jakob-the-Holstein waved his/her horns at him in a way that made Yukon Gold think of late-night Ginsu knife commercials starring His Truly as the demo spud. Not comfortable thoughts, those.
“Okay, okay. Drop the curly whites, I’m listening.”
Jakob-the-Holstein obligingly lowered his/her horns. “Moo-oo-oo.”
“No, I don’t know where Master Magus Mario Batali of the Organic Order of Gardeners lives. Never heard of him.”
“Moo.”
“Of course. You do. And you think this Master Magus Mario can help you get, er, unstuck, but only if I go with you?”
Jakob-the-Holstein nodded happily.
“SANTORA!”
That decided him. “Well mix me with cheese and call me au gratin! What are we waiting for?” It took a couple tries but Yukon Gold managed to clamber up onto Jakob-the-Holstein’s back. Ðámņëd if he was going to walk all the way to Master Magus Mario’s kingdom. Castle. Whatever. At that point, Yukon Gold would have agreed to anything that took him far away from El Patata and his madness.
Yup, a quest sounded pretty good right now.
• 
A-questin’ we will go
A-questin’ we will go!
C’mon everyone, sing along!
He stole from the rich and he gave to the poor
Stood up to The Man and he gave ‘im what-fo…
…oh. Wrong song. Sorry.
So we have a transgendered cow now? How? 😉
“Transgendered Cow” should not be a band name, but maybe it should be a password.
By the way:
a large black and white Holstein glared at him. How she did so with such large, gentle, brown eyes, Yukon Gold couldn’t fathom
Nicely done.
“Well mix me with cheese and call me au gratin!”
Nice one!
Hope you don’t mind, but I’m stealing that one for use in everyday life.
As far as I know, I made it up, so steal away!
Did Yukon Gold suddenly get an southern accent in that chapter? Eh, why not.
Great to hear a Potato Moon shout out. Next up: shameless, superfluous plug during a Newsarama interview.