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“Leave us,“ Queen Lilian instructed her entourage as she entered the bower. Clifton followed her, laying the semi-conscious Vernon on the moss mat Cassandra had prepared. The mushrooms were just beginning to glow.
“He’s worse?” Cassandra sponged cool water onto his forehead.
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A subdued splash announced Pierce’s arrival.
“The Queen’s buzzy little nephew said you needed help.” A bath had washed away the sour odor of Elliot’s indiscretion, but not the disappointment of the missed mission to Bog.
“Pierce! Yes, we’ve found Vernon, but he’s wounded and sick and he can’t make it back to the Hive on his own. Would you please take him back with you?”
He eyed Elliot. “How sick?”
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In his dream, Elliot reclined on a bed of rose petals in a field of jasmine. He could feel Cassandra’s kisses on his lips.
He woke on the floor of the bower in Fen to find her wiping the last of his regurgitated breakfast from his mouth. The scent of jasmine drifted in and gagged him. Rolling onto his side coughing more violently than the ancient wasp, he caught a flashing glint of brown surrounded by feathers in the doorway.
Shifting impatiently from foot to foot, Pierce, the hawk who’d brought them back, preened a chunk of glistening, ocher something from his shoulder, and fixed a smoldering one-eyed stare on Elliot.
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With a skyward lurch, Elliot’s breakfast threatened to return for lunch. Only the soft comfort of Cassandra pressed against his side kept him from taking his chances and diving for the safety he’d left behind when he climbed onto the hawk’s back.
“Don’t you just love flying?” she asked, her eyestalks waving gently in the slipstream.
Trying to make eye contact put his gut into a spin. He focused on the horizon, the only fixed object in the world, and confessed, “I love you more.”
“Everything is so clear up here,” she effused. “The ground just rolls away and takes every bit of trouble with it.”
He didn’t want to contradict her, but he was sure he’d brought some of the trouble with him, and it was about to erupt.
“Look at that, Elliot, my love — we’re soaring with the majestic Travelers!”
He looked. The sky and earth blurred just before they went black.
To be continued. . .
Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures . . . ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .
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“Arturo, son of Miguel and Valeria, regarding the charges that you are responsible for the return of the rebels and the devastation they spread throughout our people’s homes in the Freelands, we find it is possible the rebels would not have come back if they had achieved their goal to begin with. Therefore, we find you are inextricably connected to the massacre.”
Arturo closed his eyes.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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