“I didn’t hear anything, just keep going,” the princess instructed.
Buttontail had sharp hearing; he could hear a snapped twig from leagues away and yet he tried to convince himself that Damselfly was right and that it was all in his head.
Red Eye rode his favourite Baywolf into the Sprite camp. Several fires had been lit and were fiercely protected as he pushed through the crowd towards their leader. Several of the wolves became alert as they entered, although the Sprites were busy arguing over scraps and paid little attention. Red Eye swatted a fly away irritably before descending to the ground where he continued on foot to the largest pyre, which was surrounded by a handful of Sprites.
“Look who it is,” Clubfoot greeted in his gruff voice.
“I have news for our belligerent leader,” Red Eye reported stiffly.
“What are you waiting for then?” Clubfoot sneered.
Red Eye bristled under the captain’s glare before striding purposefully towards the fire and his audience. Jinx was the leader of their callow band, handpicked by their deity and named for his unique cunning. Jinx was gnawing on an old bone, his large incisors working hard as his green tongue searched for any remaining marrow. Around the Sprite leader was a handful of his most faithful captains. Few showed any interest in Red Eye’s approach although he knew they were all listening.
“I found something,” he started.
Jinx looked at him with jet black eyes, tossing the bone to one of his wolves. The Sprite leader signalled for him to continue.
“I was patrolling downriver when I heard voices.” Red Eye began slowly noting the increased attentiveness of those around him.
“There was a human girl with burning hair and a talking rabbit.” A few laughed at this revelation, thinking Red Eye crazy, or worse.
“Any sign of Blakast?” Jinx interrogated.
“None,” Red Eye responded.
“That fool should have sent for us by now,” Jinx cursed.
“Knew we should never have trusted that one,” Gutrot spat.
“You don’t even know what end of the wolf to feed,” Jinx insulted. “Leave the thinking to those with brains.”
“Good one, boss,” Torn Ear snickered at his peer’s discomfort.
“What was this girl doing?” Jinx asked.
“To begin with they were fighting, then they started walking and I heard them talking about going to the Magicgarden,” Red Eye reported.
“Really?” Jinx considered the implications of this news.
“I don’t think they are from the Wintergarden,” Red Eye revealed.
The camp was silent in anticipation with only licking flames to interrupt their vigil. Red Eye waited patiently, knowing that he would be blamed for any repercussions this information brought.
“Why don’t we go find out what this burning girl knows.” Jinx grinned.
Damselfly sat shivering in the shadow of a dense wood. They seemed to have been walking for an age until they could go no further. Buttons was snuggled against Damselfly’s hip. For once the gluttonous rabbit was silent, sharing their mutual misery. They were both cold, hungry and completely lost. Damselfly was beginning to despair as she considered the enormity of their challenge; even if they found shelter, how would they get to the Magicgarden without a token for the gate?
What if the Matriarch could not help them get Death’s timepiece back? The princess was shaken from her reverie by Buttons standing up shakily.
“What is it?” Damselfly asked.
Before he could answer, a long low howl resounded from the darkness behind them. A swarm of birds took flight from the nearby trees, and Damselfly caught sight of a pair of red eyes.
“Wolves,” Buttons uttered.
Old Nana had often told stories about Sprites riding Baywolves. What Damselfly could not understand is how they came to be here in the Wintergarden. All Sprites had been banished along with the Fairy King to the Evergarden.
Buttontail’s foot was nervously tapping the ground as he fought the urge to flee. More pairs of eyes appeared, and Damselfly could hear the tattoo of her heart beating against her chest.
“Run,” she cried as the wolves charged.
In the open they would have been easy targets for the faster hounds, especially with snow covering the ground and threatening to trip them. Instead, they headed into the woods where the trees offered them some cover. Damselfly ran as fast as she could though Buttons soon disappeared far ahead and she quickly lost sight of his tracks in the snow. Behind her the sound of pounding paws grew louder as the wolves sought their prey. She could hear the Sprites calling to one another and enjoying the hunt. Her lungs began to burn. She stumbled, catching both knees hard before getting to her feet and carrying on with the sounds of pursuit getting closer with each breath.
A blur passed on her right side. Damselfly immediately changed direction, the wolf spotted her amongst the bracken and followed with renewed vigor. The wolves howled to communicate their location and excitement over closing in on their prey. Damselfly was desperate. She turned a corner, only to find herself hemmed in on all sides by trees. Looking to retrace her steps, she found herself facing a hungry Baywolf with an evil-looking Sprite on his back. The wolf was four-foot-tall with light grey fur that turned white towards his paws and tail. Piercing red eyes stared through her above a large snout that shadowed a mouth full of sharp teeth. Damselfly frantically searched for an escape route before spotting a small gap in a barrier of thorns. She crawled towards the opening, all the time expecting the wolves’ fangs to tear into her. Realising her intention, the Sprite who had green skin, small dark eyes and a sharpened spear in his hand urged the wolf forward. Damselfly knew the gap was too small though she could do nothing else but keep moving forward. She ducked to avoid a litany of low branches; her hands burrowed away clumps of snow to gain her a few extra inches to pass under the barrier. Just when Damselfly thought she might make it, she found herself dragged back, not by the Baywolf but by a stray sprig which had caught on her fairy wings. Terrified at being caught, Damselfly attempted to release herself. Unfortunately, she was stuck fast with not enough time to liberate herself before being pounced upon. Looking around in desperation, the princess caught sight of Buttons hiding inside a fallen tree trunk; the rabbit seemed to be trapped between trying to help her and his own sense of self preservation. Damselfly shook her head knowing that Buttons would never reach her in time. She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable.
A blood-curdling cry shook the snow from nearby trees, stopping the wolves in their tracks and sending the animals fleeing into the night. Damselfly breathed again, knowing that they were safe, at least for now.
After the terrifying cry scattered the Baywolves, Damselfly managed to free herself and patiently coerce Buttons from his hiding place. They had set off in search of the woods’ end, finally stumbling out into the open where a strong breeze buffeted them along.
“What do you think made that terrifying sound to scare off the wolves?” Buttons asked.
“I don’t know,” Damselfly replied.
“Look at those lights,” Buttons pointed.
“It is just the stars,” Damselfly commented.
As the princess orientated herself, she noticed that the lights were actually coming from a small valley and with renewed hope pressed forward to reach safety. Damselfly could barely raise her legs when they finally entered the sheltered protection of the valley. Almost instantly, the wind dropped and they found a cleared path, which made walking easier. The hamlet seemed empty of life. Only the scattering of lights ahead kept Damselfly moving. A stray cat dashed in front of them before they turned a corner and found themselves in a clearing. Small wooden buildings created a square with a few dwindling lights shining through dirty windows. A couple of people were on the street and noticed them struggling.
“Why, Morris, it is just a young girl,” a female voice called out as Damselfly slunk to the ground in exhaustion.
“
Quick, get her inside by the fire,” presumably the man named Morris ordered.
Damselfly felt herself lifted, though her mind and body felt dislocated due to her freezing state. The couple attempted to ask her questions, and although Damselfly formed the answers in her mind, she just could not bring herself to actually speak them. With Buttons curled up nearby and a warm fire thawing her appendages, the princess drifted off into a blessed sleep.
When Damselfly woke up, her head hurt and she called for her mother, before remembering what had happened. Morris owned a small establishment called the Woodcutters Inn which they were currently residing in. Buttons was sitting by the fire drinking a warm cup of honeyed tea, looking much brighter.
“Would you like a drink?” Beatrix asked.
Beatrix was Morris’s daughter and the family resemblance was startling with both having straw-colored hair, green eyes and a strong chin. Damselfly looked around the room though there was little to see: a couple of chairs surrounding a wooden table and a fireplace was all the inn could boast. Beatrix returned swiftly with a drink for Damselfly who took a hesitant sip; the tea was made from nettles making it rather bitter although the honey helped.
“Where did you come from?” Morris asked, absently wiping up a cup.
Damselfly was reluctant to reveal her true identity or purpose for being in the Wintergarden; however, she had to give an answer and so she chose her words carefully.
“We came through the Garden Gate and got lost in all the snow.”
“Are you alone?” Beatrix enquired with tears in her young eyes.
“Yes,” Damselfly replied.
“You’re lucky to be alive, wandering around alone without warm clothes or weapons,” Morris criticised. “There are all kinds of dangers out there from wolves to frostbite and everything in between.”
“They’re fortunate the Peritwinkle did not find them,” Beatrix added.
“What is a Peritwinkle?” Damselfly posed.
“It is a fearsome creature that Beatrix knows better than to scare our guests with,” Morris scolded.
“Please tell me,” the princess requested. “I do love stories.”
Beatrix was perhaps only a couple of years older than Damselfly. She seemed pleased to have someone to talk with, and Morris decided to leave them be.
“When the Fairy King destroyed Death’s timepiece we were in the middle of a long winter. Now it is always night and constantly cold. Many people moved away because they could no longer work or feed their families,” Beatrix explained.
“Those of us that stayed relied on the woods for our survival. Unfortunately, a pack of wolves began tormenting everyone who entered their territory and several people were injured.”
“Wolves are frightening,” Buttons spoke for the first time, looking rather solemn.
“The local people decided to raise a militia to scare away the wolves. They took burning torches and spears into the woods, hoping to reclaim them. While they were searching the woods, the group was attacked by an enormous Peritwinkle.”
“But what is a Peritwinkle?” Damselfly demanded.
“Well, it is a little hard to explain,” Beatrix pondered.
“Not hard at all,” Morris interrupted, having been listening in the shadows.
“A Peritwinkle is the most fearsome creature you can imagine; it cries like thunder with giant tusks and a temper wilder than any storm.”
“Don’t say any more,” Buttons requested though Morris was already beginning to sing in a rising baritone.
The Peritwinkle
A Peritwinkle can strike faster than a spitting cobra,
His ire can be raised quicker than a Silverback gorilla.
He is more cunning than a fox, wiser than the owl,
If you’re still breathing it won’t be long now.
Quick as a bite from a shark,
Snap as a dog’s bark.
The Peritwinkle will make you his prey,
On this your very last day.
The Peritwinkle has an anger like a goose after an intruder,
He has a sense of humour like a starving piranha.
If you see eyes glowing red, above two tusks it won’t be long,
For the Peritwinkle strikes like a wounded scorpion.
If only it was a rhinoceros or a paltry tiger,
None of them compare to the Peritwinkle, not even the tarantula.
For this monster has a smile like a crocodile,
A laugh like a giddy jackal.
He punches harder than a fighting kangaroo,
You best stay clear of his wood so he cannot find you.
There is no reason, nothing is fair,
You may as well argue with a grizzly bear.
With a roar louder than a lion,
I close my eyes to avoid seeing what will happen.
For the Peritwinkle is as mad as a rabid wolverine,
If you see him, it is sure to be the last thing you have ever seen.
“That is a wonderful song though I still don’t understand what a Peritwinkle actually is?” Damselfly apologised.
“It is a giant boar,” Beatrix said.
Buttons jumped out of his seat as the wind blew against the windowpane; he scrambled into Damselfly’s lap and hiccupped in his fear.
“No more stories now,” Morris chided. “It is time for bed.”
When Damselfly awoke it was still dark. She missed the faded evening sunlight of home along with Old Nana and her family. Buttons was still asleep beside her, running away from some imagined danger. She stroked his fur until he quietened and then went to search for something to eat. Morris and Beatrix were already up performing chores to keep the inn running although they did not seem to have any other guests.
“You must be hungry,” Morris welcomed.
“I don’t have any money to pay you,” Damselfly confessed.
“Don’t worry about it, you’re our guests,” Morris dismissed.
Beatrix brought a bowl of stew which, while not up to royal fare, was warm and palatable enough to take the edge of Damselfly’s hunger. Buttons, of course, appeared almost immediately the food arrived and managed two portions despite Damselfly’s concerns about being rude. It was obvious that Morris and Beatrix were poor; they wore tattered clothes that had been patched multiple times and the inn was in need of serious attention. Damselfly guessed that few people travelled to Wintergarden now; the Fairy King had been responsible for a lot of hurt when he stopped time, especially here.
“There’s a town meeting later if you want to come,” Beatrix informed them.
“Yes, thank you,” Damselfly agreed, hoping to learn more.
“Is there any more stew?” Buttons asked before Damselfly kicked him under the table.
The town meeting was held in a draughty old barn with about thirty people congregating together to keep warm and share stories of recent hardship. It seemed they received very few visitors, because Damselfly’s presence caused quite a stir amongst the regulars.
“Where did you come from?”
“You came through the Garden Gate?”
“What was it like?”
Damselfly told a version of her tale, explaining that they had been chased by a bad man and escaped through the Garden Gate with no idea where they would end up. This explanation at least stopped many of the questions as people drifted back to their normal groups and largely ignored the newcomers.
“Why don’t you leave?” Damselfly questioned.
“This is our home,” Morris stated. “My grandfather built this inn with his own hands and no one is going to take it away from us.”
“Even if we wanted to leave, we can’t,” Beatrix reasoned. “The only way out of Wintergarden is through the Garden Gate and none of us have a token.”
“Those that did left long ago,” Morris said bitterly. “How did the Sprites get here?” Damselfly queried.
“What Sprites? We ain’t seen any of those creatures,” the townspeople feigned.
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“I was chased by a pack of them riding wolves. They almost caught us in the woods until the Peritwinkle scared them off.”
Naming the monster that haunted them all was a mistake, and they refused to acknowledge Sprites existed in these parts. Instead, they stated her scared mind had imagined the Sprites and from then on few of them would even speak to her. Morris, no doubt encouraged by his peers, soon led them all back to the inn, and when Damselfly attempted to raise the subject again, he disappeared down to the cellar with some excuse of checking barrels.
“What is going on?” Damselfly asked Beatrix who looked uncomfortably guilty.
“No one ever talks about it,” the inn keeper’s daughter evaded.
“I know what I saw, it was not my imagination,” the princess replied.
Beatrix cast a glance towards the cellar where her father had disappeared before looking back with certainty in her eyes.
“I will tell you everything if you do the same,” Beatrix offered.
“I already did,” Damselfly lied.
Beatrix shook her head knowingly; the young girl had grown up in a town full of secrets and she could tell when people were hiding things. Damselfly was torn between wanting to know the full story and protecting her own identity.
“All right, deal,” Damselfly decided.
After Beatrix had been sworn to secrecy, Damselfly relived her story from the very beginning when her mother had announced the birthday celebrations. Beatrix’s whole demeanour changed when she realised that the princess was standing before her and sharing such intimate parts of her life. Beatrix, whose own mother had been taken when she was only six, sympathised with Damselfly’s situation and by the end tears stained her cheeks. After such startling revelations, Beatrix was only too happy to relate their own meagre tale of woe.
“When the Fairy King stopped time, it was at the worst possible moment for us, during a long, hard winter, and as no sign of change appeared, many departed. So it was a surprise when a strange man arrived in the town seeking assistance. He claimed to be a sorcerer with the power to stop it snowing all the time. The townspeople were ignorant of such things though they were all desperate, and one spokesman convinced them to allow the sorcerer to try. Not long after, the first Sprites began appearing at the edges of our territory. They quickly allied themselves with the local wolves and became a constant threat. The sorcerer explained that his magic was working, and these creatures had been sent by some evil force to try and stop him. Unwilling to accept they might have made a mistake, the townspeople continued to support the sorcerer in his mission, although no sign of success or improvement could be found. In truth, our circumstances only grew worse with a rogue Peritwinkle making the woods impassable for even the sorcerer. Soon after that the sorcerer disappeared without a trace, and the townspeople choose not to speak about what had happened, even with each other.”
Thronegarden Page 9