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Panic tightening his throat, Clifton screamed, “Stand down! Stand down, soldier!”
A tick of indecision seized the fearsome jaws. The furry head whipped toward the brash young bee.
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Beneath the unexpected flapping, Clifton bemoaned his deficient night vision as he searched the obscurity overhead for any movement greater than the fluttering leaves. Only moments earlier, they had been so thankful for the moon-eclipsing clouds, and now he just wished for some light. A cringing fear crawled up his back as he recognized the strangely solitary sound.
“Barry,” he hissed, “get down from there!”
“I’m tryin’ ta see what it is!”
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Clifton wished he were flying. “They’re right,” he reminded himself, “my buzzing would attract attention in the middle of the night, but this walking — crawling — through the woods in the dark… it’s nerve-wracking!”
Tripping yet again over yet another a random leaf or twig or pebble he couldn’t see in the shadowy mottle they called a trail, he fell sideways over a lichen-covered rock.
A harsh whisper emerged from its surface. “Oy! Watch i’ theah, mate!”
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King Arnie sent one third of the Knights he’d brought to Fen to go with Prince Elliot to the Freelands. He ordered another third to keep Princess Cassandra safe in Fen. With his small remaining contingent, his Greatness swept unnoticed through Bog. He didn’t stop till they reached the jail.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked the prisoner who’d freed the Crone.
“Of course I do, your Greatness,” the jittery fellow twittered, bowing his head. “I was born and raised in the Cranberry Bog, same as you.”
“Really? No one here knows you.”
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Elliot smiled. “Of course I’ll be back, my love. There is no force of nature or unnatural conscious design powerful enough to keep me from you.”
He had pushed the end of the day as far away as possible, filling each minute with a smorgasbord of stories and plans and preparations only to find sunset had swallowed the overstuffed hours as easily as ever, dragging the blanket of night behind it. Those who were going to the Freelands had agreed to travel under the cover of darkness.
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In sight of the bower’s entrance, a member of the Hive Elite waylaid Vernon with the Queen’s request that he return immediately to the Hive.
“My apologies, Sir Barry, for abandoning you before introducing you to the Princess and Prince. The bower is just over there, and if you let them know you’re replacing Clifton for the time being, I’m sure you’ll find the Royal couple gregarious and pleasant company.” He flew off before Barry could respond.
I’m s’posed ta walk in dere an’ innerduce myself ta Royalty? Well, he thought, I’ve done tougher tings. Continue reading “Reunited”
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At the news a prisoner had escaped, the Knights who had come to Fen with the King fell in behind him like a wall of spears.
“How did this happen? Was anyone hurt?” King Arnie questioned Barry.
“Someone claimin’ ta be a visitor knocked out da guard and stole his keys, yer Greatness. When he woke up, his head hurt, but he was okay enough ta take a trackin’ team after ’em.”
“And?”
“Dey caught up wit’ da guy dat busted her out, but dey lost da old woman’s trail.”
“Who is he?”
Barry shrugged. “Nobody knows an’ he wou’n’t talk.”
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Singing and dancing, stories and laughter, the woods filled with music and cheer. Contests and games, honors and congratulations, the community reveled in camaraderie and fellowship.
It was a night to hold in memory and revisit over the years in times of sorrow to lift a grieving heart, in lonely times to recall the bonds of friendship, or to polish up and present as a model for future times of grand celebration.
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Clifton’s eyes went wide. “The Assassin?”
He cringed and chewed his lip while Vernon told his harrowing tale of escape and endurance. Sunset shadows crept into the bower while they listened.
“Aunt Lilian— the Queen and King Arnie need to hear about this,” Clifton said. “Somebody should help those people.”
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To Elliot’s great relief, the ancient priestess’s heart did not explode. Step after step, gasp after gasp, rest after breathless rest, she made it to the top. Standing with her eyes closed in light filtered green through the trees, her shoulders heaved with each ragged inhalation.
“You’re right,” Elliot said, “it’s marvelous.” Watching her ravaged breathing, he added, “I could just stand here and soak it in for hours.”
But it took only a few minutes for the High Priestess to recover.
“What do you see here?” she asked as they followed the emerald light being pushed by the spreading carpet of approaching night.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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