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The King arrived at the southern border with a squad of Knights at his back. More Knights stood guard in a line that stretched along the border as far as anyone’s eyes could see. They were armed, alert, and determined to protect their homeland against whatever it was that waited just beyond the trees.
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On his way to begin his shift as the Prison Admissions Officer, Deputy Marco was the first to take up the King’s command. Ballooning his throat, he bellowed the call to arms.
ARRRAAAAAK-ORRRAAAWWWK!
ARRRAAAAAK-ORRRAAAWWWK!
ARRRAAAAAK-ORRRAAAWWWK!
The King nodded, Barry waved, and the Knight’s alarm rippled down the rise, rousing other Knights and able-throated subjects to add their voices to the river of sound rolling through the Kingdom, swelling to a sea of shivering tones breaking in waves warning everyone of the approaching threat.
Elliot rushed to Cassandra’s side, determined to keep her close.
She kissed his cheek and turned to the King. “What can we do to help, your Greatness?”
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Elliot had been intent on King Arnie the Former’s face as he stood with closed eyes, silently remembering whatever it was that sweet voice had said to him.
Now, through the tears welling in his eyes, King Arnie of Bog contemplated the vast landscape spreading before them like a rumpled carpet.
Elliot ventured a quiet question. “You let her go?”
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“Arnie!” Persephone called, “Come up from there, I have something to tell you!”
Sluggishly, the Prince paddled to the bank and dragged himself ashore. His lady love was so excited, she didn’t notice his reticence.
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Elliot came to beneath the dusky rising moon with his tail wrapped in silk. At his side, Cassandra lay with her head on his chest. The King sat dozing at his foot. Barry was nowhere to be seen.
“What happened?” Elliot asked.
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“When the Party ended,” King Arnie confided, “the trouble began.
“Everyone in Bog lined up to watch the Suns of Glory lead the residents of Fen back home. My critics grew increasingly restive as the Lady Persephone-less parade passed them by. When the last of our Fen friends had crossed the border and she still hadn’t, the whispers spread.”
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“Her name was Persephone, and it was my own fault I lost her. If I’d only known then what I know now…” King Arnie’s voice, at first a whisper, died altogether under the weight of his memory.
“What happened, Your Greatness?” Elliot prompted him.
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The King’s words faded to a wistful smile. His eyes closed as though he were admiring a cherished treasure he shared with no one else.
Elliot waited.
Two large tears squeezed out beneath the monarch’s eyelids to slip down his pale green cheeks and splash their saltiness on the ground at his feet.
Elliot’s voice gently reminded His Greatness that he wasn’t alone. “I’ve heard only how cruel war can be. What good did it bring you?”
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The King stared at something far away and long ago that Elliot couldn’t see. When His Greatness spoke, there was such sad longing in his voice that Elliot’s heart wept.
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“My future?” Before his eyes, the kindling dawn flared into a tangerine sky. Elliot’s breath caught in his chest. His thoughts caught in his mouth. His imagination soared beyond his tail’s slicing burn to fill his mind with light and hidden possibilities.
“Yes, Elliot, your future,” King Arnie repeated. “I’ve been around a long time, son — may I call you ‘son’?” he inquired, waiting politely for a reply.
Elliot had recently developed a healthy skepticism regarding the motivations of strangers, but now he began to realize he should temper his caution by listening when the little voice named Instinct spoke.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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