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  As Runner Rill spoke, his voice never changed from the dreamy softness, though the words so such seemed to call for passion.

  “I went to tear Riffle Sike’s pouchbag from the crevice in the cave,” he continued. “I meant to throw it at him. But I didn’t. I never got that far. I…I saw her…standing on the rocks above the cave…The flash of her dark eyes…The gleam. Riffle Sike bolted past me into the cave. I was ice frozen staring at her. She disappeared in green sparkles. Riffle Sike had done it to me again. Yes, he was gone. His pouchbag was gone. And I knew…I knew…I floated here and have been here ever since dreaming of one day becoming a river. His pouchbag was gone and I knew…she was his.”

  “No, that’s not right!” I scraped with my raspy voice. I jumped to my feet.

  Too late! He’d plunged both hands into his pouchbag, and he must have conjured some wizardy spell, because in a nince he was a purple streak blazing a trail through the sky.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Frustration

  I went hollow, not with anger, but with frustration and despair. I didn’t want to be a bendo dreen alone again. And yet, and yet, I was.

  “Arrange your thoughts, Chronicler,” I muttered to myself. “Arrange ‘em.”

  To do so such, I gripped my chonka and tapped it on my leg. I paced back and then forth across the meadow. I spoke silently to the absent Kar, who was way far off in the future doing I wondered what.

  Kar, I have seven days to do something I don’t know. Where are the answers? Why aren’t you here? I think better when you are looking at me. You expect me to be smart. So such I try harder. The shifter Shendra Nenas told me I should have kept the orb. Am I a mind reader? No, I am not. I am a timid bendo dreen from the hedge. I have no powers. Well, you say, what about the Carven Flute, the Jo Bree? What about it? I don’t have it! I didn’t bring it! Lackwit? Yes! So such simple it would have been to slip it under my belt while I was picking up my chonka. It was right there on the shelf! Pah! All right, Kar, I can hear you say, ‘Settle, Bek.’ I’m listening. I can settle. There. Now about Runner Rill. He’s wrong, you know. He’s confused, and I failed to untangle him. How could I? I was given no time! He might be gone forever. All might be as it isn’t off in the future with you, Kar. I do have a week left to complete the unknown task. A week unless…unless the shifter is a complete lackwit and wrong about that, too! She could be. She might be. She probably is! Lackwit. All right, Kar, I’ll settle. I’ll pretend I have a week to…what?

  I paced faster and began to wave my arms about. I’d reattached my chonka to my belt. So such, waving wildly and pacing faster seemed to help organize the babble in my brain.

  I recognized Riffle Sike’s beckoning pool from Runner Rill’s description. The cave and all. The Gwer drollek story of Rindle Mer starts at that pool, dried to dust. So such. Riffle Sike HAS found his beckoning pool. One future fact is unveiled. He will raise his niece, Rindle Mer, in and around that very pool and cave. If! If! Oh, what did happen there yesterday? Where did Riffle Sike go when he spelled himself invisible? I should hunt for his beckoning pool. It is his! It will be his then in the future! He’ll return there. I need to talk to him. Did he have another visit from Shendra Nenas as a silver wizard in a dream vision? Such might be so. Such could be so. But wait, you muddled lackwit! Kar, why didn’t you remind me? It’s the orb! I should have kept the woodlock’s orb!

  I was struck still by that last thought. My arms dropped to my sides. Standing in purple grass, I stared at the stream.

  “I have to steal her orb,” I said aloud evenly, though my voice remained a nince raspy. “I have to find Delia Branch. Where to start? Where?”

  After the thinnest span of time, I made a decision. I trailed off east, away from the stream. Why? I didn’t know. I felt it. It was a guess. I knew I’d been moving south along the stream. West I calculated would take me to the high cobbled road and on to Danken Wood. Such I felt was wrong. North I’d already been. South would mean meeting the Greenwilla River. I went east. East, I hoped, would somehow lead me to the beckoning pool of Riffle Sike.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Riffle Sike’s Pool

  As I made my way east, the Woods Beyond the Wood leveled, unbroken by ridge, gully or hill. No hedges, ferns or tricklestreams did I find. The ground was flat duff dirt, ash brown. Shragnut trees displayed summer greenery with ripe yellow nut pods. A few twist oaks sprouted crookedly gnarled here and there, but most of the trees were shragnut with rugged ribbed trunks. I picked up fallen pods, cracked ‘em, peeled ‘em, and ate my fill of nuts.

  This part of the Woods is such and so monotonous, I thought. No ground plants or water. My highboots sound muffled when they strike the ground. Duff dirt. A fine Woods for sneaking. More than enough trees to hide behind. No undergrowth to snap and break beneath my tread. I’ll walk until I find water or night, whichever one of ‘em greets me first.

  I walked the afternoon away on the flat unchanging pathless ground of the shadowy Woods. I paraded through my mind snatches of Gwer drollek tales, yearnings to have Kar with me, ‘what-if’s about the orb and Delia Branch and Runner Rill and Riffle Sike and such and so other random oddments of thought. I rattled along to the rhythmic chankling of my chonka at my waist. The light changed. It filtered a richer gold, and the shadows of afternoon darkened.

  “Evening approaches,” I said aloud.

  So saying, I stopped. I’d been silent such and so long that my voice, truly recovered, sounded to me like a deafening bell. I peered around. Shragnut trees. A twist oak here and there. Flat duff dirt ground with scattered pods and acorns. A new silence descended, seemingly deeper with me standing still, my chonka at rest, unshaken.

  I will keep walking until I can no longer see, I thought. I’ll sing.

  So determined, I took up my chonka in my left hand and tapped a rhythm. I moved forward, ever forward, singing softly so such as not to restrain my voice. Two thorn lullabies and one about the Festival of Chonkas brought me to where I could see in the distance off to my right a low row of feather ferns. Sign of a tricklestream! I doubled my pace. Yes. It was a tricklestream! I ran along it, hoping after hope to see it widen and pool. It widened! It pooled! There was a cave! I jumped and spun for joy.

  “Kar! I found it! Riffle Sike’s beckoning pool! Rindle Mer’s! It’s it! The cave! Kar, I found it!” I shrieked, shredding my voice with each happy scream.

  When my throat began to burn and stab, I grabbed it with both hands and settled. I stared at a Gwer drollek setting I knew, but had never seen.

  I’m looking at Riffle Sike’s pool and cave, I thought in awe. It will dry to dust. It will be Rindle Mer’s vow to replenish the Woods Beyond the Wood. She will do it! If…if she is born. Oh, I wish I knew what I’m supposed to do! I wish Shendra Nenas was a better shifter. I wish I hadn’t screamed so much. My throat feels torn. I wish…

  “So here ye be, Teller. Ye found my saucy new home. Be it not saucy?” said Riffle Sike, floating out of the cave and wearing a pleased little smile.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Riffle Sike’s Version of the Second Incident

  “Ah, night falls. Be it not a treasure pond wonder in this light?” said the proud Riffle Sike, gesturing all around him. “See how the Woods roll and tangle with hedge and tree and rocky ridge off in that direction and how they line up row on row in order on the flat over there? Ah, a saucy spot to dwell, Teller. No choppy seas here. All be calm. How did ye find your way here, Teller?”

  “I needed information. I guessed where to go. What happened yesterday with your brother and the woodlock?” I whispered carefully.

  “Why whisper?” he whispered.

  “I sang too much, screamed too much,” I replied.

  “Ah, then, ye know something of yesterday, do ye?” he said in his normal voice.

  He brought himself to the fuzzy ferny bank of the pond and stood, not floated, near me. Close up, his fiery orange eyes were most amazing. They blazed with kindness, not w
ith fury like those of Runner Rill. Such was a way I could tell ‘em apart. Riffle Sike waved a mist green hand toward the cave and mumbled strange wizard words. From the cave’s mouth and straight to his hand glided his purple starred pouchbag. He caught it, opened it, rummaged in it, all the while winking and glancing from me to the pouchbag.

  “Ah, watch this,” he said in triumph, raising up on the tips of his fingers a small clear crystal globe.

  He placed the globe on the ground between us and motioned for me to be seated. I sat. So, too, did he. Such. He engaged me with his kind fiery eyes and put one finger to his lips. His message was “Be silent.” I really needed no such message. My throat hurt and I wanted to hear HIM talk. He pointed to the sky where a dark cloud hung, edged with pink and gold. He closed his eyes. Not knowing what I should do, I did nothing. In time, the night grew blue and deep. I closed

  my eyes and fell asleep.

  “Teller, look now,” I heard him say.

  My head, which had flopped chin to chest, jerked up. I opened my eyes and bathed in bright yellow light pulsing from the glowing crystal globe. Riffle Sike’s wild mass of orange hair and his smiling mist green face were lit. Otherly, darkness most black surrounded us.

  “This be the best way to tell a tale, don’t ye think, Teller? All in the fathoms deep night by the light of an orb,” he said.

  I nodded in agreement, though I did not agree. Bendo dreen like stories told in nest or Assembly Bower so such the best. Nevertheless, so said, Riffle Sike’s next words tingled me alert.

  “Yesterday. Ye wish to hear about the whirlpool of confusion, do ye? What happened here? A tidal wave broke! But then, to sail back. I’ll tell ye that after I disappeared at the tall tree pool, I wandered the Woods searching for a better home. Why? I did not find the beckoning pool by the tall, tall tree at all appealing. Runner Rill wanted me to have it. I didn’t want it! My vision dream duty was spilled to completion. I was free to go where I would. I listened for a sea call, a billowy wave. I tried out some of my amulets. Oh, after plunge hither, and after plunge yon, I found here! How saucy it be! But wait! Yesterday I was lounging at the bottom of the pool when I was struck with a sudden need for my pouchbag. Why? A glacier in my mind broke off, revealing an idea for a wonderful spell! I…Oh, what matter? No matter. When I rose to the surface, Runner Rill was there at my cave and…and the woodlock was standing on the rocks above it! I babbled at Runner Rill some nonsense. I wanted him gone. I had an idea for a wonderful spell! He babbled at me. He iced my heart. He wanted this pool for himself! He wanted my pool! When he turned and saw the woodlock, I got by him and rushed to my pouchbag inside the cave. As quickly as I could, I spelled myself invisible. I floated out, preparing to fling a spell at Runner Rill. But instead, I stopped short, for I found him spinning in a gusher rage. The woodlock was gone. Runner Rill roared, ‘I’ll leave these foul and stagnant waters! I’ll find a pool for me somewhere outside these wretched Woods! Oh, to be a river! To be a river!’ Then he sailed off through the trees without a look back. He be gone to find a better pool. This one be mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A Wild Search

  “Can you call your brother back? Can you find him? You must have something in your pouchbag to do so such! You need to tell him you have no interest in the woodlock. He thinks you do. He thinks she’s yours. I saw him. He said so,” I explained in a rapid whisper.

  “He thinks that? He be ever boiling about in a rush. Impatient. Flowing like a river cascade, never still,” mused Riffle Sike, catching up the shining globe and dropping it into his pouchbag, so such plunging us into black inky night. “I can’t bring him here. Why would I want to? If ye see him again, Teller, I grant ye permission to tell him all about my dream vision. That be my best offer. I have already told ye now two tales. My duty be done.”

  “But your niece! You will raise her!” I hissed in the dark. “I must find the chalky woodlock. I have to steal her orb. Can you help me? Can you help…? Riffle Sike…? Riffle Sike?”

  I realized I was talking only to myself. Why? One moon slipped from behind the cover of clouds. Where the wizard had been, he wasn’t. I stood alone in the night. My bendo dreen blood chilled my heart. I leaned over and looked down into the pool. Smooth black mirror. I gathered my thoughts.

  There’s the mound of blackness where she stood above the cave. Delia Branch was there. Then she shifted to green sparkles and went…where? Runner Rill thought Riffle Sike was working a sort of sorcery. But he wasn’t. Delia Branch saw Runner Rill. She sparkled away. Hmmmmm…I can travel by the light of one moon. Such. I have no time to waste. If I’m going to do what I don’t know I’m supposed to be doing, time is precious. I can’t waste it.

  With that thought planted in the front of my mind, I made my way around the pool and by the mound and into the bushes, hedges, trees, ridges, gullies and tangled undergrowth of by far the densest portion of the Woods Beyond the Wood I had yet visited. Traveling in darkness might have made it seem so such. My bendo dreen skill at avoiding thorns and brambles while slipping through the thickest of hedges brought to me a fine level of comfort and ease as I moved along. I did grow tired enough to yearn for a nap and convinced myself to take one.

  This is a likely nest, I thought, plowing through the supple branches of a thorny bower. I’ll risk a nap until morning, the better so such for to see. Good idea, Bek. Do you have any other ideas? I’ll get ‘em in the morning.

  I curled down to sleep and rested well. The thorny bower felt like home. Such was so. And in the morning I splashed my face with water from a small tricklestream and sprang up with a new energy. Thorns for breakfast fueled my determination to find Delia Branch. I strode out, clambering over boulders, climbing hills, swinging over some tricklestreams, hopping plash through others, ever even so on the run. My eyes wide, I searched high to low, side to side, scanning, alert. They were searching eyes. They searched for a glimpse of woodlock or green glitter mist. I banged on my chonka. I sang out with a voice newly soothed by the cold sparkle taste of a low waterfall. So such it tasted enchanted. It did.

  “Delia Branch! Delia Branch! It is I, Bekka, who found your orb! I returned it to you. Remember? Won’t you tell me what happened when you saw the brothers for the second time?” I called out from time to time.

  The water I drank that day kept me bright and alert and always running. It seemed so such to be leading me from spring to spring to stream to pond. I darted from one to the next. I dove into pools and bathed under falls. Each time I touched my lips to running, flowing or falling water, my liveliness redoubled. Late in the afternoon I held my head under a thin curtain falls and was boulder struck by a sudden most obvious thought.

  “Shendra Nenas?” I blubbed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Trofle Advice

  “Bo ken! Hatch! You DO possess wit! I was beginning to doubt it,” sang out Shendra Nenas. She separated herself in droplets from the curtain of falls and shimmer shifted shape to become the trofle Badge. She clattered spikes, head and body, and regarded me with her green glow eyes.

  “You’ve been leading me all day, haven’t you? You’ve kept me lively. What should I do next?” I eagerly spouted.

  “Keep talking. I might listen. Dek bar noo,” she said.

  “All right, all right. I’ll tell you what I’m doing. I’m looking for Delia Branch. I plan to steal her orb. What do you say to that?” I challenged, thrusting my face close to hers so such that I might be able to read the slightest of flickers in her eyes.

  “What else?” she answered, unmoved, no flickers.

  “Else? Else,” I mumbled while rummaging through my brain searching for what to say. “Else! Runner Rill thinks Riffle Sike has bonded with the woodlock. That’s wrong, of course. He’s impatient, confused to a fury. I saw him. I talked to him. He threatens to leave these Woods forever. He may have done so such already! Disaster! Right? He saw her again at Riffle Sike’s beckoning pool. I’ve been there. Oh, I recognized it
from the Gwer drollek story of Rindle Mer. I did. The cave and… What about the future? Why did she sparkle away yet again when Runner Rill gazed at her? Riffle Sike spelled himself invisible at the same time. Runner Rill assumed they’d disappeared together. But no, no. She… I don’t know why she shifted and ran off. She is shy. A truth. I have to find her. Another truth. Right? What was she thinking? What was she doing there at Riffle Sike’s pool?”

  “Is it for me to know? Lug wot? Or you?” said Shendra Nenas, half smiling.

  “Well, all right then, it’s for me to know what I can’t possibly know because I was given lackwit instructions! Here I find myself in a when I know nothing about. I’m a bendo dreen alone outside without Kar and sent through time to do something, I don’t know what, so such to make things be as they are, not aren’t. I don’t know what I’m doing or saying. What am I doing? I don’t know!” I raged before throwing myself flat on my back in defeat.

  “I can tell you simply that you’re on the proper path,” commented the trofle shifter, still unmoved.

  “Really? How?” I said, brightening and sitting up.

  “Curiosity might be a choice. Kiv dek. I do wonder what could be on the other side of that steep rocky mass down there where the stream bends. Lo tren. That is an impressive outcropping,” said Shendra Nenas, and she flicked her golden tails to point at the thrust of rock.