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The hallway they entered was taller, but narrower than the one Elliot had come in through. Familiar with mushroom glow and the winking flicker of fireflies, he couldn’t explain the lighting until he saw it close up. Do they wander? he wondered to himself, vowing not to sleep while he was here.
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Elliot’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”
“Good news still travels to the heart of the Ancient Forest.”
“Good news?”
“Yes. We’ve been expecting you,” the High Priestess confided as she limped down the steps to hunch before him.
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Well, he might have just killed me. Elliot caught and released a deep, calming breath. “Thank you for asking,” he said. “My name is Elliot, and my guide left me outside with instructions to go inside.”
“For what purpose?”
“I have no idea.”
“Who was your guide?”
“I don’t know her name.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“No.” This wasn’t going well.
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Picking out a path past rocky outcrops and over mossy stones, Elliot worked his way around the base of the tower until he found a passage that disappeared into darkness beneath an overhang that almost hid its opening.
This can’t possibly be the main entrance, he assured himself. It must be a vent or a back way nobody uses. But because it was the only way in that he’d found, he approached with caution.
“Hello?” His timid call couldn’t have carried beyond the bend in the tunnel.
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Elliot had followed her willingly, enchanted by her flowing stride and silent confidence. Her feathers shimmered with iridescent sparkles that bound him to her just as surely as ropes and chains. The little warning voice he’d learned to heed whispered — nothing.
Without reason, without thought, without common sense, he’d trusted her, and now, facing a massive structure of stone and wood built against a hillside of the oldest trees he’d ever seen, he had no idea where he was.
“I thought you were taking me back to the bower. Where are we? And don’t say, ‘here’!”
Her answer was to throw back her head and release a trilling note that filled the woods like wind. From the treetops all around, a whistled melody replied.
She cocked her head. “We’re in the heart of the Ancient Forest,” she said as if that explained everything.
“But what is this place? Why did you bring me here?”
Her warm laugh rippled through him. “So many questions. I’m sorry, Elliot, but I’m not the one to answer them. In fact, I have to leave you now.” He started to object, and she placed the tip of a single feather on his lips. “Go inside. You’ll be in good hands, my friend, and we may yet meet again.”
It was only as she flew beyond the tangled canopy that he realized he hadn’t even asked her name.
Shaking regret out of his head, he began his search for the entrance.
To be continued. . .
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The pent up worries he’d been nursing since diving into the tensions of Bog and Fen rinsed off with the scent of motion sickness. Elliot’s solitude absorbed the peace of the Lilian Pond while the muffled music of the larger public bath beyond the bushes infused his thoughts with joy.
As unpredictable as it had become, his life was full. Life isn’t scary, he thought, it’s an adventure. I’m not weak unless I give up.
Counting the obstacles he’d overcome, even when he’d needed help, he smiled. He had strength. He had friends. He had love.
He had company.
To be continued. . .
Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .
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Elliot tried to press on Vernon’s stitched chest with his tentacles, but instead of compressing, they slid off the hard shell that was the wasp’s skin. After the third attempt, he stared at Clifton.
“You have to do this, Clif.”
“But I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I’m trying to make his heart work again, but I can’t push hard enough.”
“If I push on him,” Clifton warned, “I’m afraid I’ll break him. Besides, what is that stuff? It looks like he’s leaking.”
“I think his cut is infected — he’s burning up. But if we don’t get his heart started soon, he’s gonna be cold and dead.”
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Quivering his way to the spot where Vernon vanished, Clifton tried to ignore the tickle of doubt in his chest. Elliot believes in me.
Taking a deeper breath than his lungs had ever held before, he kicked his chubby back legs as hard as could and dove into oblivion.
Reluctantly, he forced his eyes open.
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Vernon’s eyes flickered in recognition just before his arms broke through the water and he disappeared beneath the surface.
“Vernon!” Elliot called again.
Only bubbles answered.
“Ohmigosh! Ohmigosh!” Clifton buzzed in swelling panic. “We can’t let the Queen’s Liaison drown!”
“Can you swim?” Elliot asked.
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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.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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