by F. E. Arliss
“I didn’t,” Lory, the long-braided wood wose said, a defiant touch to her tone. “She was nasty and she squashed one of the fireflies.”
“Ouch,” Emery said, grimacing. “I love fireflies. They’re so beautiful. Like magic lanterns floating in the air. Who would squash one on purpose? Maybe it was an accident?”
“No accident,” Albertina said flatly. “Though you shouldn’t have shaved her head. It’s not nice.”
“Yes, Madame,” the three small sprites muttered, heads hanging dejectedly at this statement of their ill-manners.
“Well, I’m happy to meet all of you and I promise not to squash anything unless it’s a complete accident. Once I fell on a rattlesnake by accident, so I’ve not got the best record of graceful movement. On the other hand, I have managed to climb out of a Mayan sacrificial pit, so I’m sort of fifty- fifty right now,” Emery grinned as she said this, and shrugged her shoulders as all four of the women stared at her with open mouths.
“Really, you climbed out of a Mayan sacrificial well?” This harsh question came from none other than Max, who had stumped around the corner of the barn while Emery was enamored with the small Ruebezahls.
“I did,” Emery stated matter-of-factly. “But I had help from some frogs and bats that showed me the way. I was almost food for the gods of Calakmul!”
“Well!” Albertina said suddenly, “I think we should all adjourn for supper and hear this story. What do you say?” Everyone agreed and Emery spent a merry first night relating her terrifying stay in Calakmul to a rapt audience. She ended the evening by saying, “That story told, I do hope none of you are going to try to kill me. It can be quite tiring.”
“Well, we won’t try to kill you,” Max said, grumpily. “But that doesn’t mean something else won’t.”
“Stop, Max!” Albertina said sharply. “It is our job to make sure that doesn’t happen. And we’re quite good at our jobs aren’t we?” The little man nodded his head glumly, as though disappointed that he had to save Emery instead of feeding her to the forest.
“Yes, we’re very good at our jobs,” he grumbled.
The little wood wose chorused, “He is good at his job. So are we. So is Albertina. You’ll have a wonderful time. Goodnight!” And with that, they seemed to disappear in a plume of smoke from the fireplace as it crackled happily on the old stone hearth.
Emery’s bed was up in the attic under the eaves. To her surprise it was delightfully soft and lined with moss. Astonished, she realized that this was something she’d seen in the smoke in Canyon de Chelly at the end of last summer. So, as Letty had said, it all came true. “When” was just the unknown variable.
Chapter Seventeen
Wolpathugas
When Emery woke the next morning, she almost didn’t want to get out of bed. The moss lined bed of woven reeds was so comfortable it was better than anything she’d ever slept in before. Plus, the air under the eaves was cold and she was warm under a very finely woven woolen blanket, not an itchy, scratchy donkey blanket. Granted they were both wool, but there was a vast difference in comfort.
Finally, being forced to vacate her cocoon and use the outhouse, she scrambled into her warm clothes and adjourned to the small wooden shack at the edge of the clearing. On the up note, there was real toilet paper, not a stack of leaves or moss. On the down side, it was biodegradable and very thin. Emery supposed that was the price one had to pay for a zero footprint modern convenience.
Returning to the lopsided house, Emery was surprised to see Albertina seated at the table eating what appeared to be a hearty breakfast of crusty bread and oatmeal. Though when Max slapped a bowl of it in front of Emery, his single word was, “Porridge.” For some reason, Emery was surprised that Max was doing housework.
Later she would find out that Max was not the kind of little person who was usually a miner and the such, but an erdenne or house spirit. He was attached to the homestead and cared for it, cleaned it, and watched over its occupants. Emery was dumbfounded. Max didn’t look a thing like Dobby, the house elf from the Harry Potter stories. Max simply grunted at her and, as though he could read her mind, said, “I’m not an elf!”
Emery, deciding to not be intimidated by the grumpy little man, replied, “Clearly!” causing Albertina to snort with humor and grin approvingly at Emery.
After breakfast Albertina packed a small bag of items and called for Emery to follow her into the woods. Emery had already filled her cantine and wrapped up a couple of pieces of Max’s homemade bread, buttered heavily with what she could only suppose was butter churned from the two grazing dairy cows in the yard. She had to admit it was all very good and she’d told him so. He nodded curtly and turned his back on her. Emery suspected he was secretly pleased, but wouldn’t show it.
After a long trek through heavy forest, they finally broke free of the dense timber and entered a sun-dappled clearing. The creek wound its way along one side and a small pebbled area allowed them to refill their cantines. Taking a seat on one of the fallen logs not far from the stream, Albertina said, “If we’re lucky we’ll see a Wolpathuga.”
“What is a Wolpathuga?” Emery asked, stumbling over the pronunciation and repeating it a few times to clarify. “Wolpathuga. Wolpathuga. Wolpathuga.”
“A Wolpathuga is a very rare creature. They look much like a rabbit, but have slightly longer ears. The most interesting thing about them is that they are also blessed with three extra skeletal additions that allow them to survive and protect themselves and the woods,” Albertina mused.
“First, they have small antlers, which allow them to joust with larger flying predators such as eagles and hawks that might snatch them from above. Though they do use the antlers on other predators as well, such as wild cats, wolves and dogs,” she continued.
“Next, they have small wings behind each front shoulder. They’re not large wings or very efficient, but they do allow the Wolpathuga to glide or float for a bit after making a large jump. Since they’re a type of rabbit, they have very powerful hindquarters that can launch them well into the air.”
“Finally, they also have a wicked set of fangs. They don’t have the two big middle teeth that you see in most pictures of rabbits, but instead have two wickedly sharp fangs on either side of their center teeth. They do use their center teeth to eat vegetation, their main diet. The fangs are a form of protection and they can bite and deposit a venom with their fangs, almost like a poisonous snake,” Albertina finished this litany of otherworldly benefits and waited for Emery to respond, snickering kindly at the young girl’s open mouth and astonished wide eyes.
After a few moments Emery managed to clamp her mouth shut, adjust her face enough to lose the startled look and squeaked out, “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. They’re quite the most magical looking creatures. Please don’t do anything that would startle them. We don’t want you getting bitten or anything like that,” the older woman murmured quietly, flicking a finger subtly towards the far side of the clearing.
Emery turned slowly, letting her peripheral vision pick up any movement in the treeline. Sure enough, two, large grayish brown rabbits were making tiny hops as they mowed down a patch of feathery, bright green foliage at the base of one of the large trees edging the clearing. She could tell the two animals were aware of them as one gleaming brown eye always seemed to be riveted to them as they moved along the mound of greenery, munching away.
It was magical to see the dainty, but very wickedly pointed antlers that graced the flat spot between their velvety, lopped-over ears. At first she couldn’t see the wings, but as they meandered out into the meadow, noses twitching to detect the choicest grasses, she could see the small wings folded into their sides. They looked almost like longer patches of fur from where she sat. “They’re beautiful,” she breathed quietly to Albertina.
“Yes, and dangerous if threatened,” the older woman reminded her softly.
Slowly the two Wolpathugas came closer. One of them, eyeing
Emery and Albertina closely, sat up on its back legs, nose twitching. “They know me,” Albertina murmured quietly. “You’re a new thing.”
Two large bounds brought the Wolpathuga up to Emery’s knee. Cautiously it placed one paw on the worn-out knee of her jeans, sniffed her exposed skin, then stretched up and plucked sharply at the flap of her navy-blue antler cap. She’d forgotten she had it on.
Emery inched a hand up to the hat, letting the Wolpathuga see the movement. It leapt back a foot. Emery gently tugged the cap from her head and laid it on her lap. The Wolpathuga was fascinated and both of them were suddenly at her side, sniffing the cap and tapping the stuffed fleece antlers with their paws. Batting at the antlers to make sure they were inanimate, they finally turned their attention to Emery herself.
One of the pair hopped onto the log next to her and Emery could see the curving fangs that Albertina had described. They were so beautiful and so unusual! Emery concentrated on sending out waves of wonder and appreciation for them and simply sat as each of the creatures explored her hair, ears, and clothing. Finally, sure she wasn’t going to harm them, the largest of the two plopped onto her lap, stood on its hind legs and placing quarter-sized paws on each side of her face, gazed into her eyes. Emery, eager to see if she could pet one, raised her hand slowly.
Quick as a viper, the smaller Wolpathuga leapt into the air and tried to sink its small fangs into Emery’s hand. Nothing happened, of course, but Albertina gasped. The larger Wolpathuga back-flipped off her lap and tackled the smaller rabbit. A short, very loud screaming match took place, unsettling Emery. As quickly as it had begun, it ended. Both Wolpathugas parted, then gazed at each other. The smaller one crouched down in submission.
The larger one, still making an anguished crying sound, turned back to Emery. She began to croon to it, letting it see her hand, and that nothing was damaged. Cautiously, it hopped closer, examining the hand minutely, sniffing and even licking at the two marks where the smaller animal’s fangs had attempted to puncture her hand.
Not knowing if the animal would understand, Emery spoke, “I’m called Emery, but my Navajo name is Shield Skin. For some reason, I don’t get hurt the way most people do. I did a protection ceremony where I asked for a turtle shell protective layer and I think it must have worked. Ever since, I don’t really get cut or banged up much. Which has come in pretty handy, I can tell you. Last year, I swear this awful priestess woman in the rain forest was trying to beat me to death with vines and tree branches. The shell protected me.”
Looking at the smaller, cowering Wolpathuga she whispered gently, “It’s ok. You didn’t hurt me. I won’t hurt you either. You’re both so beautiful. I hope we can be friends.”
The larger Wolpathuga had already settled onto Emery’s lap and was busy investigating the pockets of her down vest. It took several minutes, but the smaller one finally approached, sniffing at her old, worn boots, then her knee, finally it examined the hand it had bitten earlier. Not as bold as the larger animal, it hopped onto the log next to her and settled against her side, cuddling in to pick up some of her warmth.
Emery finally lifted her head and glanced at Albertina, who had been silent the entire time. “They are so wonderful, aren’t they?” Emery breathed.
Albertina smiled at her. “They are. They have never let me touch them. They seem to like you a lot.”
Emery, dumbfounded with that bit of information, looked down at the large Wolpathuga and said, “Would you mind if Albertina touched you. She’s a good witch and won’t hurt you.”
Slowly, the rabbit eased its way off Emery’s lap, which was immediately filled by the smaller one, whom Emery stroked lazily from the base of its horns to its tail. The small creature burrowed closer. The larger Wolpathuga had stretched its nose out towards Albertina and as her fingers gently stroked the sides of the rabbit-like creature’s neck, silence reigned over the clearing.
They spent another hour there. The Wolpathuga’s would graze, then return for a cuddle. Albertina gave Emery the rundown of what the lessons would be for the week and it only sounded more exciting as the week went on.
That night, as Albertina related the days adventure to the little Rubenzahl women and Max, there was much excitement about her success with the small woodland creatures. Max, in typical grumpy form, added, “I hope she doesn’t try to pet the Beerwolves if she comes upon one of those!”
“What’s a Beerwolf?” Emery asked, her curiosity aroused now.
The tiny Wood Wose girls chorused, “Werewolf!” and disappeared into a puff of smoke. Albertina only nodded a confirmation and Emery scurried up the ladder to the eaves, intent on hiding under her thick wool blanket.
She heard Albertina scold Max with a muttered growl, “No need to scare the girl witless!”
Max’s guttural return came slowly, “Well, the woodland things like her. Maybe the Beerwolves will too. Though it won’t be to just pet.” Emery could hear him as he stumped off to clear the dinner things. Albertina’s long sigh was audible too.
Chapter Eighteen
Fairies, Werewolves, Ogres and Bahkauvs
The week went quickly as Albertina led her through the dark and magical forests of the Oberwolfach area. The second day, Albertina showed her a cliff-top area where a Feldgeister lived. Feldgeisters were able to control wind and lightning and it was with open mouth that Emery watched a whirlwind develop and spew small bolts of lightning down onto the forest floor below. She never did see the being that Albertina talked to, but Feldgeisters were elementals and Emery supposed she might have to wait to figure out that whole thing until her training in the elements commenced.
Day three was taken up with an afternoon laying in a small glade where tiny woodland fairies, known as Moss People, played hide and seek with the two women before disappearing completely and without warning. They’d been tiny little things, no more than three inches high and dressed in what appeared to be flower blossom skirts. They had been the exact epitome of what everyone thought a fairy should look like. Maybe all those Grimm’s fairy tales weren’t total bunk after all.
Towards the end of the week, Albertina decided they needed to go to town to buy a few things. It seemed an extra guest had lightened the larderer more than they’d estimated. Emery rode in the passenger side as Max once more commanded the rickety Land Rover with all the panache of a pirate at the helm. The vehicle skidded on mud, slewed back and forth violently as they forded the small creek, and then ground its gears on the open blacktop-track back to the small village.
Emery helped Max carry the groceries and load them into the truck. He was well known in the small village and when a thin, reedy little man gestured him into the local pub, Emery declined to join them. Instead she sat on the tailgate of the Land Rover and watched the small village’s hustle and bustle. When dusk fell, the activity fell as well. Soon the streets were empty. She could still see the back of Max’s bulbous head as he downed tankards of beer in the pub. She hoped he wasn’t so smashed that he couldn’t drive home.
Soon anxiety started to creep into her gut. They should have left by now. Finally, mustering her courage, she closed the tailgate and trudged over to the low wooden door of the pub. Pushing it open, she was assaulted with the stench of beer, cigarette smoke and maybe, human piss in the narrow entry hall. Shoving open the second door she caught sight of Max and jerked her head in a motion to indicate that they should go. The little man just scowled at her and with one stumpy-fingered hand, waved her away.
Heaving a sigh of dread, Emery exited the stinking pub and leaned against the side of the building. Gulping a few breaths of fresh air, she headed back towards the Land Rover. No sooner had she made it a few yards from the pub, than a couple of drunks stumbled from its smokey depths. They were caught up in singing a rather explicit bawdy song and stopped dead as they caught sight of Emery’s long golden braid as it glowed molten in the light from the old-fashioned lanterns that lit the square.
“Hey missy! Wait for us, pretty girl!
” they chorused in slurred voices and shambled after her. Emery picked up the pace. The two men, taller than her by a couple of feet, were gaining ground. “Did the Land Rover even have door locks?” she wondered frantically as she dashed towards it. Jerking open one door, she climbed in and slid her hand frantically over the door searching for the lock. She found one and pushed it down. Turning to lock the driver’s side door, she was too late. One of the men had already opened that door and was leering at her, his face awash with shadows and drawn into a terrifying rictus of intent.
Before she knew it, she was jerked across the center console. Her hip was crunched into Max’s smaller steering wheel and pain blossomed through her system as she was roughly dragged out of the Land Rover.
Dragging her into the shadows of a narrow alley behind the small grocery where they’d purchased their supplies, the larger man kept muttering, “Quiet down girly, we only want to have a look. Nothing’s wrong. We’re just bein’ friendly, aren’t we Arnie?”
Arnie was busy holding Emery against the wall with one enormous beefy hand simply pinning her neck to the rough wooden siding. Emery, never a slouch when it came to doing things against her will, was busy trying to gasp for air and at the same time kicking as wildly as she could at whatever leg or appendage came into view. This only made the crazy Arnie grip her neck tighter.