Chapter 4
Mia awoke to the sound of horses and the dawning light of a brisk spring morning pouring through the window. A rooster crowed somewhere. Many birds sang their happy calls, sparking her attention. She sat up on the cot and looked around the cottage. The events of the previous night ran through her head like the memory of a story, fast and complete. Oh, yeah. I’m in Awlland, and I’m a wizard. And I don’t know where Awlland is.
Looking through the condensed water droplets on the window, she saw two horses. Finnegaff was there, too, placing items into leather saddlebags. She stood up and pulled her hairbrush through her tangled hair. She looked at the brush, now a treasure as much as a necessity. The only item I have from home, she thought. She walked to the open doorway and had been standing there for but a moment when something fast flew right in front of her face.
“Great day! Great day!” It was the fairy Belemeriath. “How’s our little blissflower this morning, hmmmm?” he said. He easily dodged her swats.
She squinted. “Go away!”
Belemeriath laughed at her. “Let me show you what we’re doing! Finnegaff is loading the horses. I’m in charge of cooking supplies!” His chest puffed out. “See?” He flew toward the nearest of the horses and stationed over the saddlebag. It was neatly packed with pots, pans and packages.
"Whatever, fairy,” she said. Belemeriath flew over to Finnegaff.
“Finnegaff! She’s up! Let’s go! Let’s go!” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She sure is pretty!”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose. We’ll leave soon, my friend. Great day, Miagaff,” he said to Mia.
“What’s so great about it?” she mumbled, taking a few steps outside. “Where’s the
bathroom?”
“I’ll show you!” Belemeriath said in mid flight. He headed toward the rear of the cottage.
“No you won’t! I’ll find it myself.” She stumbled around the side of the cottage, looking back to make sure the fairy didn’t try to follow.
“You’d better not provoke her, little friend. She is a wizard, after all!”
“Oh, she likes me! I can tell! Did you see the way she looked at me?”
“Yes, I did.” He smiled.
Mia staggered from behind the cottage. She stood next to the saddlebag of the horse Finnegaff was putting the finishing touches on.
“So where’s this Ellengaff’s farm?” she asked.
“Marigaff! Marigaff!” Belemeriath said before the last words left her mouth. He hovered a foot from her nose.
“Fairy!” She batted at him again, which didn’t seem to bother him. He must be used to it, she thought, as irritating as he is. He probably irritates everybody.
“Some two day’s ride to the east,” Finnegaff said. “That way.” He pointed into the rising sun.
“Great!" she huffed. "Two more days with freakin’ Tinker Bell.”
“Oh, more than that,” Belemeriath said. “We’re in luck! Finnegaff wants me to be with you for a long, long time!”
Mia’s jaw dropped as she stared at Finnegaff.
“I asked you to make yourself available in case Miagaff needs you,” Finnegaff said.
“Same thing! Same thing! Close your mouth, Miagaff. Flies will get in!” Finnegaff was laughing softly. Mia clenched her fists at her sides.
“No, it’s not the same!” Mia said. She closed her mouth and clenched her teeth. “I’ll do fine on my own.”
“You’da already been troll food by now if not for me!” Belemeriath thumbed his puffed out chest and smiled with closed eyes.
“Miagaff,” Finnegaff started, "Belemeriath is a loyal and very good ally. He'll prove his worth many times over. He, too, knows Saa.”
“He’s a wizard? No! No way!”
“No, but he has fairy magic. He has Saa in ways you and I never will.” That warm, Mia-winning smile became Finnegaff. Mia again noticed the mysterious overwhelming grandfatherly trust for the old wizard that frequently washed over her. The feeling was soothing in a most peculiar manner, much as a warm shower comforts a chill. And to this day she doesn’t know if the feeling came from Saa or Finnegaff or herself. Nor did she ever forget that moment.
They led their horses for a while. Mia had only been on horseback a few times in her life, so her ability as a rider was clumsy. Finnegaff reminded her that Marigaff was her teacher, not him, that soon they’d be at Marigaff’s farm, and there was where she would learn to ride. In the mean time she could walk if she so desired. An hour of riding can make an inexperienced rider sore and quite uncomfortable, so walking soon became the choice. She walked beside Finnegaff’s horse, Grinnolle. Belemeriath was perched between the horse’s ears.
“What’s the date?” she asked Finnegaff.
“It is the third of Ros, 3199. Early spring.”
“3199? That’s way in the future!”
“Recall that time passes differently here than it does where you come from.”
“I don’t get it. I mean, an hour here is an hour there, right? An hour’s an hour no matter what, right?”
“I can't say how it works. I can say that it's not the same.”
“So what is it I’m supposed to do? Will you tell me now?”
“When we get to Marigaff’s Farm I will tell you what you need to know.”
“Why not now?”
“It's not safe. The farm is shielded. It can't be breached by any Saa or Essaa Marigaff doesn't permit.”
“So she’s in charge of the shield?”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah! It’s her shield.”
“So what kind of magic am I going to learn there?”
Belemeriath flew from Grinnolle to Mia. “It’s the magic of Saa! The magic of Saa!” he corrected.
“Okay, what ever…Saa. Cool it, fairy!” She batted at Belemeriath. “What kind of Saa am I going to learn there?”
“No! No!” Belemeriath, still in flight, slowly circled Mia's head just out of batting range, which he needed not to be, as he could carry on a conversation while evading her strikes with exceeding ease. He never took his eyes from her. “It’s ‘what am I going to learn to do with Saa.’”
Mia glared at him, but decided that shutting him up was impossible. She believed that the constant chatter was the most irritating part about Belemeriath. “Okay, then! What am I going to learn to do with Saa at Marigaff’s Farm?”
“I can't answer that,” Finnegaff said.
“You can’t? You mean you know the answer and won’t answer or you don’t know the answer?”
Finnegaff shrugged. “I suppose maybe you’ll learn how to feel Saa first, then move things or light fires.”
“Like Belemeriath did?” Mia said.
“On the way to your cottage I started a fire to keep Miagaff warm at night,” Belemeriath said.
“No, no. That was fairy fire. It has flame and light and heat yet it doesn't use up any fuel. We, as wizards, cannot make fairy fire.”
“Only fairies! Only fairies!” Belemeriath said.
“Hey!” Mia addressed Belemeriath. “Why didn't you talk to me on the way here?”
“Finnegaff wouldn't let me,” he said with a pitiful look of rejection. “He made me stay in light form.”
Mia regarded that for a moment. “What else will I get to do?” she asked. “At Marigaff's Farm, I mean.”
“I’ve probably told you too much already,” Finnegaff said.
“You should tell her! You should tell her!” Belemeriath spoke fast. “You know you want to. You’re always telling people too much, anyway. So you might as well. Why, he once told the dragon Cwyth that a herd of sheep escaped from Royel Sorber's place.”
“Belemeriath, you don’t have to…”
“They never found them. Not a one! You know where they went? I’ll tell you! Dragon food, that’s where they went! Dragons love mutton!”
Finnegaff looked to the sky. “We all make mistakes.”
“Marigaff didn’t talk to you for 250 years, remember?” Beleme
riath said.
“That was over something else.”
“250 years? How old are you?” asked Mia.
“Well, you know it’s not proper for a wizard to reveal his…” Finnegaff said.
Belemeriath interrupted. “Three thousand, two hundred and thirty five!”
“Belemeriath!”
“He used to be married to Marigaff, you know. But one day he…”
Finnegaff pointed his staff, Lebethtro Larra, at Belemeriath. He spoke in a commanding voice. “Anso Lebethta! Munck!”(Be quiet! Down!) He pointed the staff at the saddlebag.
The fairy’s eyes bugged out. He clasped a hand over his mouth and dropped from the air right into the saddlebag. Mia gaped, yet not in amazement of the magic of Saa. In her mind she had felt that something was going to happen to Belemeriath before it did.
“What’d you do to him?”
“I used Saa to quiet him for a while. It won’t last long. He’ll figure out how to escape the spell."
“So you were married to Marigaff?” Mia said.
“Never mind." He paused. "Well, yes, a long time ago.”
“And you’re more than three thousand years old?!”
“Well, yes. Give or take a decade or two. I’m really not sure.” He stroked his beard.
“You know what? I just had the funniest thing happen. When you did what you did to Belemeriath, I felt something. Like a warm, kinda tingly feeling that went from my chest to my head really fast! And it was right before it happened. It was like,” Mia sought the right word, “a feeling, you know?”
Finnegaff looked at her, half smiled and nodded. “Well, yes,” he said. “I do know.”
Their journey continued along the foothills of the distant towering mountains. The warm, clear air smelled sweet as they made their way through the ankle-deep grasses of the hilly plain.Trees were still sparse, a grove here, a stand there, but Mia could see the beginning of a great forest that overcame the mountains, save the snow-capped timberline. And everything was so green! In Colorado the countrysides were typically at least half brown. But that was not the case in Awlland.
An occasional farm house came into view. The plowed fields that belonged to them quilted the rolling landscape. Soon the path turned to road. At least what Mia assumed an Awllander might call a road: two parallel packed dirt paths with plants growing in the middle of ruts caused by wagons which had been stuck during the rainy season.
Belemeriath had escaped Finnegaff’s invocation (as Mia had learned to call it) as predicted. He was back to his annoying self almost immediately. Most of the time he was contented to simply ride on Finnegaff’s horse, kicked back between Grinnolle’ ears. The lively fairy took joy in even the smallest of things: a shape in a cloud, chasing a passing butterfly, retrieving a motherberry for Mia from some unseen place off the trail. And he would enjoy these pleasantries with constant narration. Mia found that, should there be lulls in the conversation, Belemeriath could be quite creative at finding something to talk about, and was most certain to do so. Yet he never complained; nothing seeming to bother him. Fortunately for Finnegaff, he’d forgotten the conversation that resulted in him being subdued for a time. Or, Mia thought, maybe the little imp learned something. Probably not.
By nightfall they’d arrived at the foot of one of the great mountains where the cool wind blowing downhill had the smell of a snow covered pine forest. Mia donned her coat and chose to ride her horse for a while. They stopped to make camp on the leeward side of a sheer rock cliff, part way up a slight hill. A stream ran nearby, giving them a means to water the horses. They loosed them to graze. Finnegaff ensured the concerned Mia that they would not stray. He made a small fire as Belemeriath broke out the cooking supplies. Despite his meager four inches in height, he could air lift heavy cast iron skillets or sizable pots with relative ease. Mia did like the fact that the fairy was always happy to do whatever, more than willing to help with any chore. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, as long as he stayed out of her face.
Dusk came quickly over a meal of cheese, bread and some kind of meat stew. Mia, cold from the drop in temperature with the coming of evening, welcomed dinner. She stabbed a chunk of the stew from her bowl and examined the odd-looking mystery meat. The thought occurred to her that she might not eat it if she knew from what animal it was taken. She thought it wiser to not ask, for she was very hungry.
As dark was heavy upon them, Finnegaff gave Mia her bedroll and made it her charge. He explained how to check the blankets for bugs before packing it. He also announced that he was standing watch during the night hours and that he had something to do. Belemeriath twinkled into the pinpoint of light, the form in which Mia had first encountered him. He darted out into the forest to who-knows-where fairies go for the night.
When Mia awakened, the fire had burnt to embers, giving little warmth for an Awlland early morning. The cool mountain air misted the breath. The sky was red everywhere as the filtered crimson light beamed through the towering pine forest. Dew covered everything. She heard a horse’s hoof fall nearby; downhill babbled the tiny, hidden brook. Her hip ached from a rock solidly lodged in the ground underneath her bedroll that she had battled all night. She wanted to stand in order to get out of the uncomfortable position, but it was cold outside of the bedroll. Soon she found the courage and in one quick move, jumped from her sanctuary. She walked around the nearly gone fire in hopes of finding a warm spot. It was then she noticed Finnegaff was nowhere to be seen. The dose of adrenaline warmed her against the cold and woke her up in an instant.
“Finnegaff?” she said in a mid range voice. She listened hard for a reply. Perhaps, she thought, he was getting the horses or going to the bathroom or something. A few seconds passed. Nothing. “Finnegaff?” This time she called his name louder. She scanned the area surrounding the campsite. Still no Finnegaff. She peered through the bushes to where the horses were last night. They were still there. But there was no Finnegaff.
“FINNEGAFF!” she yelled. “BELEMERIATH!” She ran to the other side of the clearing and a short distance into the woods. She peered between the trees, looking for movement. Nothing. She recalled he’d said he had something to do; it hadn’t occurred to her that that something might have meant leaving her alone.
“FINNEGAFF!” She went back to the camp and checked the horses a second time. Both horses were there. Finnegaff wasn’t. If the fairy was near by, she thought, she’d know it by now. He can’t keep quiet.
She happened to look at a very green, leafy, thin tree that she didn’t remember being there the night before. She recalled her encounter with Tree and looked for a face in the bark design of the trunk. She didn’t expect to actually be able to make out facial features so quickly, much less those unmistakably to be Finnegaff. Wide eyed, she walked to the tree and addressed it.
"Finnegaff? Are you in there?” No response. She touched the bark to the side of the warm, smiling likening of the face of Finnegaff. “FINNEGAFF!!” she yelled. A tingling sensation, almost like an electrical shock, jolted her as if her voice had passed right through her arm to her hand and in to the tree. The tree began to shimmer.
At first it shook slightly, then began to tremble as if in an earthquake, leaves rustling. Finnegaff, or the tree likeness of Finnegaff, opened his eyes. Mia jumped back in alarm. The tree branches retracted into the tree’s torso. The trunk extended a neck below the face as the bottom portion split, ground up, into legs. Not much more than several seconds had passed when Finnegaff himself was standing in front of Mia.
“Miagaff, dear.” Finnegaff steadied himself. “I don't mind if you wake me, but there’s no need to shout.”
“What was that?” she said.
“What? Oh, that!” He smiled. “I didn’t tell you about that, did I?”
“No, you didn't! I thought you ditched out on me! What happened?”
“Oh, well, I’m part sylph,” he said.
“Don’t ever do that again!”
“Do what?”
Finnegaff shrugged. “I did tell you.”
“No. Not really.” She paused. “You could at least apologize.”
“Well, yes. I suppose I could.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Aren’t you going to apologize?”
“For what?” Finnegaff sounded sincere.
“For,” Mia sighed. “Never mind. Okay. What’s a sylph?”
He gave her a peculiar look. “A sylph is a race of Morrah that's part tree, part human. Mostly they’re deep green in color and short. They eat like you and I, except that they require soil and light for survival. Soil. Yes. Well, though we need to eat frequently, we only need soil once every few months. It was time for me.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re half tree.”
“Well, no. Sylph. My mother is a sylph.”
“Is a sylph? Your mother is still alive?” She thought about what she had implied only after she blurted it out. But Finnegaff was a sorcerer, and answered her accordingly.
“Isn’t yours?” He smiled the same warm and accepting smile Mia saw when he was a tree. Or Finnegaff. Or Finnegaff when he was a tree. “Sylphs are immortals. Many races are.”
“I wish I was immortal. That must be cool!”
“You may be. You just may be.”
“I might be an immortal?! How do you know?”
“I don’t. It’s just that you’re still alive.” Had he not that look, she would have thought it a joke. “Now! I must ask someone of a certain matter. I thought I heard something.” He walked to a nearby tree and gently placed the back of his hand on its trunk. In a moment his ever-present smile was complimented by a slight chuckle. He removed his hand and bowed to the tree.
“We gotta leave. There's darkhounds in the area.” He began gathering items from about their small camp.
“Darkhounds?” she asked.
“The soldiers of the dark sorceress. No doubt they know you're here.”
“Yeah. I know what they are. Why would they know I'm here?” She threw her hand to her chest. “Are they after me or something?”
“Well, yes and no.” She didn’t like his answer already. “You see, it is what you're charged with, what you carry that they want.”
“I’m not carrying anything,” she pointed out.
“Not yet. But you will.”
“What am I supposed to carry?”
“Be patient. A good wizard knows when to be patient.” He lit his pipe, this time with his thumb.
They packed their belongings quickly and in moments were ready to ride. Finnegaff insisted that they trot the horses for a while despite Mia's desire to walk, her bottom still sore from the previous day's ride. She had trouble staying on a trotting horse at first, but after a short time it became easier.
Finnegaff explained about the talk he had with the tree. “Sylphs can talk to trees,” he said. “Since trees are bound to Morrah, they can visit among themselves. They often know things we don’t. When I was in sylph form, I thought I’d heard of darkhounds being around. However, while in sylph form I can't be certain, since I don't spend a lot of time as a tree. So I asked a tree I know I can trust. And always trust birch,” he said, pointing a finger at Mia. “Never oak. The birch confirmed my suspicions: darkhounds, about six of them, some leagues to the north. Fortunately, we’re not down wind.”
“Down wind?” Mia asked. “They can smell us?”
“Well, yeah! They are dogs, after all.”
“What would happen if they found us?”
“A small band of darkhounds I could handle, but they'd know exactly where we are. It'd be best to not be seen.”
An hour passed before Mia realized that Belemeriath was not with them.
“Finnegaff! We forgot Belemeriath!”
“No we didn’t. Believe me, we didn’t.” Less than half a second of humming bird wing sound warned her.
“Here I am!" he yelled in his little fairy voice as he sped toward them. "Great morning, dear Miagaff!” Belemeriath flew to within two inches of her face. She startled and had to grab for the saddle horn to keep her mount.
“Stupid fairy! You almost knocked me off my horse!” She swatted through empty air a few times, but he was long gone. But not if you were Finnegaff.
“Marigaff’s Farm! Dead ahead five leagues!” he said in Finnegaff’s face. Finnegaff winced.
“What is that on your breath, Belemeriath? Or need I ask?” Finnegaff fanned the air.
Belemeriath turned red. “We, uh, my cousins...”
“That would be about four hundred of you.”
Belemeriath put a hand to his chin and peered upward in thought. “Yes!" He nodded in agreement. "They live in these woods,” he said to Mia, “these woods, right here. Kesteremiath was graced a quantity of tarrowroot, and, well....”
“Kesteremiath is the King of the lesser fairies.” Finnegaff bowed his head and looked upward at Mia.
“And my cousin!” puffed Belemeriath. “We had a, ah, reunion! That’s it! Reunion!”
“Belemeriath, you are so a liar!” Mia laughed and beamed at the embarrassed little fairy.
“No! No!” He was in Mia’s face now. This time she did not dodge him, nor did she try to bat him away. Finnegaff was right. Tarrowroot stunk! “He really is my cousin!”
“But there was no reunion.” She smiled, both hands in her horse’s mane, arms straight as she leaned forward, nose inches from the fairy.
“Well, yes and no,” Belemeriath said, looking at Finnegaff.
“That’s my saying, Belemeriath. It sounds better when I do it.” Finnegaff laughed at his little friend. “I doubt it'll help you worm your way out of this one!” Belemeriath ate up the attention, especially the positive attention from Mia.
They rode through the foothills for a while, then turned north onto the green hills of the plains, vast flowing folds of soft carpet that made waves as gentle breezes swept the knee-deep grasses. They crested a long, gradual hill, where Mia could see beyond for a great distance. Far off lay a series of dots, buildings that noted a small settlement.
“Is that a town?” Mia asked
“It’s Marigaff’s Farm, is what it is,” Belemeriath volunteered.
“That’s a big farm,” she said.
“It's called a farm because that's what it used to be,” Finnegaff said. “They still grow stuff, but it's for their own use. Marigaff’s Farm is where novice wizards go to learn to use Saa.”
“Right. That’s where I’m going. To learn to use Saa,” Mia said.
“Well, yes and no,” Finnegaff said. “Yes, you are going there to learn Saa methods, but you'll learn other things as well.”
“What kind of other things?” she asked.
“Patience, dear. Wizards are patient.” He smiled as he lit his pipe with a stick he had been toying with that he picked from a tree. It occurred to her that they had not seen any darkhounds, as Finnegaff feared they might, which was fine with her.
Marigaff’s Farm was the most charming, enchanting place Mia had ever seen. They approached the farmhouse at the end of the straight tree-lined lane, encountering people in the fields next to the road working on various things. One man was plowing a field with an ox pulling an old-fashioned plow. A woman, no, a young girl, sat on a log beneath a large shade tree and was watching a small flock of sheep-like animals that were mixed with a few goat-like animals. She could just barely hear the girl sing a slow, sweet melody to her flock. Another man was mending the fence on the other side of the trees.
The split-rail fence took a break at a gated archway thick with sweet smelling wisteria growing strong in the humid air, warmed by a cloudless sunny mid afternoon, creating a welcome feeling at the entrance to the yard of Marigaff’s Farm. The grass surrounding the large, log cabin home was neatly trimmed, bordered with many kinds of brightly flowering plants. A few busy birdbaths dotted the grounds. Here was a wishi
ng well, there a bench or a picnic table. Two massive weeping willows were situated to left and right centers of the grand yard. A few people scattered about were going on with their duties.
The house itself was long. A covered raw wooden porch ran its length. The single level structure was built to keep the entire population of the farm, as Marigaff believed in community. The transitional part of the house, that section which divided the house from the dormitory, was a large hall, evidently a dining room that doubled as a social gathering area. They must have parties and dances there. She hoped so.
The stables were located to the left of the great house and angled perpendicular to the long main building. Though some distance from the house, Mia could smell the horses, the stables being upwind. There were many split-rail fenced stalls, dozens in a neat row, the Dutch doors on some of the stalls opened at the top. A variety of horses and many cattle dotted the pasture behind the building. A forest bordered the fence far to the south.
An elderly lady sat in a white wicker rocking chair on the covered boardwalk porch near the dining hall working on a knitting project. Her snow white shawl was draped over a modest full length purple dress, striped with dark purple to light purple stripes. The colors faded together where the purples met, making Mia unsure exactly where one color left off and the other color began. She was barefoot, her legs extended with her feet crossed. Her long, thick hair was well kept and was as gray as Finnegaff’s. This, she thought, has to be Marigaff. She thought about them being married. They would look cute together.
A blond boy about thirteen had been walking toward them from the stables. He came to Marigaff’s side.
“Theramon, child,” she said to the boy. She took his hand. “Take Finnegaff and Miagaff’s horses and care for them as you would your own.” They dismounted. Theramon took the reins of the horses and pet the jowls of each one. He led them toward the stables, yet had a little trouble keeping his eyes from Mia.
“Great day, most loved Finnegaff,” Marigaff said.
“Great day, most loved Marigaff!” His left hand clutched his robe over his heart, his back rigid. “You look well!”
“Of course I do! I’m a wizard. It’s got its benefits, you know.” They laughed softly together and exchanged warm, genuine smiles. Hardly the behavior Mia would have expected from a divorced couple! The moment lasted precious seconds.
“Miagaff! A pleasure to meet you!” She nodded to Mia.
“Oh, okay. Good to meet you, too, Marigaff!” Mia extended her hand in friendship. When Marigaff moved only her eyes to look to Mia’s outstretched hand then back to Mia, it was as if the small movement was big.
“We don’t do that here, child.” Marigaff smiled. “We say ‘great day’ instead.”
“Sure.” Mia withdrew her hand. “Great day, Marigaff. Hey, how’d you know my name?” Marigaff probably knew her last name, too.
Marigaff ignored Mia's question with a tiny inoffensive smile. She stood and set aside her knitting on the small table beside her rocker. She didn't look at either of them. “This way, please!” She took up her walking stick, her back straight with confidence. With nose in the air, she strode into the large dining hall. Mia followed her inside. Finnegaff stood outside, looking at the clouds. He looked to the clouds on frequent occasion. He said the clouds could tell him things that even the trees could not. Marigaff poked her head out the doorway and looked right at Finnegaff. “You too, sorcerer!” He snapped out of his daze with a slight bounce and obliged Marigaff's somewhat more than a request tone.
Huge pine logs ran the width of the ceiling of the hall. Windows lined the front of the hall as they did the back, a double door at the center of each. Everything was pine, even the boarded floor. It was very, very clean. There were a few people here and there, playing some kind of board game, reading, mopping the floor, carrying firewood. None paid them much notice except for one of the young girls involved in the board game. Marigaff nodded to her when she looked up. The girl sprung from her seat and came to them with a spry step.
“Mia, this is Aaramerielle. Aaramerielle, child, show Mia to her room. Be back here in half an hour.”
“Yes, Marigaff.” She gave an informal yet polite curtsy. Mia guessed the tall, bubbly Aaramerielle to be maybe fourteen years old. Her less than ninety pounds thinned her adult height so that it brought to mind the term ‘skinny’.
Marigaff’s selection of Aaramerielle to room with Mia was no coincidence. Aaramerielle loved to talk. She was exceptional at following rules. She loved to teach and in fact did so to some of the younger children. Marigaff knew that within half an hour Aaramerielle would teach Mia more about what was expected of her at the Farm than Marigaff could in a day.
“This way,” she said to Mia, fluttering a hand in the air in no particular direction. She led Mia out the back door. Marigaff and Finnegaff watched them go.
“It’s been a time, dear Marigaff.” Finnegaff said.
“Yes, it has. It has. I have missed you so also." She returned his soft look. "So how is she?”
Finnegaff leveled his gaze. “I have my concerns.”
Mia's Stand Page 4