Rachel and I stood at the shattered doorway of the compound, looking at the macabre scene laid out before us.  The courtyard was strewn with old webs, desiccated cocoons, and bones of dead things – most of which we could not identify.  The building nearest us was the one on the left – about 60 feet long from front to back, and about 20 feet wide, low ceilinged, with one story.  We couldn’t see if it had a cellar or basement.  The other building, further back, was two stories high, with bars over the windows on both floors, and a closed door.  It looked fairly secure.

 

                Tika gulped in fear.  “Are all the spiders dead?”  She whispered.

 

                “Yeah, they must be.”  I replied.  “Otherwise we would have had to deal with some last night.  Besides, there can’t be much for them to eat up here – they would eat a lot for their size.  I think it’s relatively safe.  You might want to wait here though.”

 

                “Good idea.”  Tika squeaked.  She didn’t look like you could pay her to go into that place.

 

                “I’ll wait here with you, Tika.”  Alyssa said, comforting her scared friend.  “We’ll holler if we see anything dangerous.”

 

                “Great.”  Rachel replied.  “Then we should get going.”  Rachel walked into the courtyard, and headed towards the long low building to the left.  “You coming, Jeff?” 

 

                “Yeah!  We’ll be back soon.”  I said, and headed after Rachel.  As we got closer to the building, I drew my grandmother’s sword and cut away some of the webs.  “The door is pretty much gone.  Inside is probably their nest.”

 

                “Well if their victims had anything of value, that’s probably where it would have been dragged.  Do you want to do this?”

 

                “Yes!  I’m here, with you, aren’t I?”  I snapped.  “Sorry.  You just seem really pissed off and I don’t know why.  I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

 

                “I’m sorry too.  I guess I was being a bit of a bitch.  We’ll talk later.”

 

                “Okay.  I’m cranking up my flashlight and going in.”  I sheathed the sword, and powered up the flashlight, and turned on the high strength beam.  Rachel did the same, and we went inside.

 

                Inside the room was littered with webs, broken furniture – more from age and neglect than sheer violence – and some shelves on the far wall.  Lining the walls up and down the length of the building were sleeping areas – like a native American longhouse – where people could have either slept, stored goods or just kept as private space.  At the far end, I could see a fire pit and a huge cauldron, and at the nearer end, I could see three large spider casings dangling from the ceiling – one of which had a withered, mummified hand sticking out of it, missing its fingertips.

 

                “I think those are what you’re looking for.”  I said, pointing to the three casings.

 

                “Yeah.  Can you cut them down?  My knife won’t reach that high.”

 

                “No problem.”  I held the flashlight in my left hand and drew my sword.  It slid from the sheath easily, and I cut the three casings down with ease.  The three bodies fell to the floor.

 

                Together, Rachel and I cut open the spider casings, and inside we found what we expected – dead withered bodies of people, clothed and garbed in whatever they wore when they died.  A quick search found a few belt pouches of coins, some silver and copper jewelry, and some weapons that remained in good shape.  One of them was larger – Jeff’s size – and had a breastplate of riveted leather – a type of armor his HUD called a ‘brigandine.’  As for the weapons, there were two daggers and a sword of comparable size to Jeff’s grandmothers’ blade, but in far worse condition.  Everything else was too far gone from rot and age to salvage. 

 

                We gathered what we could, and Rachel packed most of it away.  I looked at the poor, withered bastards that had been sucked dry by the spiders, and I felt bad.  We needed to do something.

 

                “Rachel… We can’t just rob these guys and leave them here.  It seems wrong.  Would you be okay if we built a pyre or something?  At least said some words?  It seems like it might be a good thing to do.”

 

                Rachel thought about it for a moment, and nodded.  “Yeah.  We should do something.  Let’s drag them out and we can burn them in the courtyard.”

 

                We dragged the three bodies – all humans, one of them a woman – out into the courtyard, and gathered fallen wood and wood from their woodpile.  Much of it was rotten, but a lot was dried and preserved and was perfect for what we needed. We quickly laid out the wood, and placed the bodies on the pyre, one by one, until they lay on a large pile of firewood in the center of the courtyard. 

 

                “We should look in that building first, before we light this, in case there are more bodies.”  Rachel suggested.

 

                “Sure.  We might as well see if we can get inside.  If not, we can be pretty sure neither did the spiders.”

 

                “Yep.”

 

                We walked over to the house – it was made of a mixture of stone on the first floor, and wood and plaster on the second floor.  The bars over the windows were rusty, and the wood in which they were set looked punky and rotten. 

 

                “If we can’t get the door open, we could probably pull a few bars off.”  I suggested.

 

                “Yeah.  Let’s see if we can get inside, first.”  Rachel went and tried the door.  The hasp wouldn’t turn – so either the door had warped and stuck, and wouldn’t open, or the hasp was buggered.  Either way, we were probably going to have to force it open.

 

                “Damn it, it won’t open!”  She griped.  “You want to kick it in?”

 

                “Sure, why not?  I’ll get my inner looter on.”  I replied, and kicked the door solidly near where I think the hasp would be that held the lock in the door frame.  The rotten wood splintered under my kick – which was significantly stronger than I remembered being, until I remembered I had spent some picks and bought up my strength attribute.  These stat increases must be pretty significant, then – not minor at all.  That was good to know.

 

                Beyond the doorway was what looked to be an office, with a small brass scale and dozens of little weights, a ledger, and a box of what looked like rocks.  There was a counter, and a stool, and a number of other things that time and lack of maintenance had destroyed or rendered useless.  I took a step inside, and coughed.  The place was dusty as hell.  “Rachel, cover your face if you come in.  It’s really dusty – your Asthma!”

 

                “Thanks, Jeff.  Why don’t you look around.  I’ll stay here.”

 

                I took a look around the office – the ledger seemed to be a list of ore and its value, and the weights, in my opinion were for weighing the samples – the stuff in the box of rocks.  I looked behind the counter and found three quills – probably pens – and a vial of dried out ink, and a small iron lockbox, but no key.  I looked about the desk and then around the office, but no key revealed itself.  The iron lockbox wasn’t more than 10 pounds, so I picked it up and brought it outside. 

 

                “That’s all I could find on the ground floor.  I think this was a mining camp a long time ago – one that got abandoned.”

 

                “So what’s in that?”  Rachel asked.

 

                “Not sure.  We’ll figure it out later.  I’m going upstairs.” 

 

                “Do you need me, or can I wait down here?”

 

                “Feel free to wait.  It’s really dusty.  I won’t be long – there’s probably not much left here to take.  It looks like most of the goods were removed when whoever abandoned this place left it.”

 

                “Okay.”

 

                “I’ll see you shortly, Rachel.”  I turned, and headed carefully up the stairs, trying to put my weight on the edges of the wooden stairs, rather than in the center – to help prevent the stairs from splintering if they were inclined to do so.  The upper floor was wreathed in tiny cobwebs from normal spiders, and I brushed them away with my sword, flashing the light of the flashlight around to see what remained. 

 

It looked like the second floor was designed to be a residence – there was a small kitchen, a pair of bedrooms, and a common room, with decent, homemade furniture.  Unlike the furniture in the other building, the chairs and benches here looked sturdy and in relatively good shape.  I checked the first bedroom, and saw there was a small night table, a dresser, and a chamber pot.  The dresser and night table were empty.  It was like I thought.  Whoever used to live here, cleaned it out before they left.

 

I stood up to look around in the other bedroom, and heard what sounded like the flutter of wings.  Birds?  Inside?  Maybe they flew down the chimney?  I went to take a look.  The other room was empty – not even furniture was laid out inside it.  A corn husk dolly lay on the floor, discarded a long time ago, her clothes and features looking sorry and worn.  I wondered who used to play with it, and if she still lived.  I felt like there were eyes watching me, but I couldn’t see them.

 

This place gives me the creeps, I thought.  Maybe it’s time to go?  I headed towards the stairway down, when I felt something odd.  It felt like there was a presence in the room with me.  I couldn’t see or hear anything – but I could tell I wasn’t alone.

 

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

 

A voice came back – strong in timbre but soft in volume.  It resonated – it was impossible to ignore.  *You are a long way from home, Jeffery Fowler.  Or perhaps you are closer than you have ever been.*

 

“Who’s there?  How do you know my name?”  I asked, feeling very worried.

 

*Be not afraid.  We simply wish to ask you why you are here.  So, why are you here?*  The voice sounded masculine.

 

“I… I came to see if this world was real. I came to see if magic is real.  I… I was robbing the house, since whoever was here last didn’t need it anymore.”

 

*Robbery is a poor way to make one’s living.  It is a future with no future, and a path without honor.  Do you have honor, Jeffery Fowler?*

 

“I don’t know.  I think so.  I try to do right by my friends and family.  I try to be a good person.  I don’t know.”  Who was talking?  Where were they?  I looked about to try and find them. 

 

*Do you know what hope is, Jeffery Fowler?*  The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere – and it was raising in pitch, now sounding more feminine than masculine

 

“Um…It’s a feeling that things will get better?”  I didn’t know what else to say.

 

*Hope is a promise.  A promise that life is fair.  That the just and good are rewarded, and the wicked are punished.  It is a promise that gives life meaning, for if life was not fair, then what would be the point in living it?  Hope is the promise that life is worth living.  Hope is the essence of Justice.*

 

“Why are you telling me this?”  I asked, frightened.  “Why me?  Who are you?”

 

Both the male and the female voices spoke in unison.  *We seek to know your mettle, Jeffrey Fowler.  We seek to know the real you.  To see if you are ready.*

 

“Ready for what?  Who are you?”

 

*To fulfill your destiny.  To accept your birthright.  To take up the sword in service to something greater than greed.*

 

“I don’t understand!  Is this about me being a noble?  What do you mean?”

 

*He is not ready.* The female voice said, quietly. 

 

*No, he is not.*  The male voice agreed.

 

And just like that, the presence in the room was gone… 

 

“Jesus Christ!  What the fuck just happened? Ghosts?”  I said quietly to myself, and headed quickly to the stairs going down to the ground floor, shaking like a leaf.  I felt ill, and weak, like I had been scrutinized and been found wanting.  It wasn’t a good feeling, and I felt scared, and very out of sorts.

 

I staggered down the stairs faster than I should have, and nearly stumbled down the last few steps.  The building felt claustrophobic, and I shoved past Rachel until I was out in the sun again, breathing clean air, gasping fresh breaths into my lungs.

 

“What the hell happened?  Are you all right, Jeff?”

 

“No… Yes… Maybe…”  I panted.  “Something really fucking weird happened up there.  It’s time to go.”

 

“Do you want me to light the fires?”  Rachel asked.

 

“Please.  I need to get out of here.”

 

Rachel looked worriedly after me as I quickly headed towards the gates of the compound, still shaking like a leaf from whatever the hell just happened.  Ghosts?  Or something else?  How did it – did they – know my freaking name?  As soon as I left the courtyard, I found a place to sit and collapsed, exhaling all the stress I didn’t know had built up in the last few minutes.

 

“Geoffrey!  Is everything alright?”  Alyssa asked.

 

“No.  No it’s not.”  I said, trying to shake the dread I was feeling – the uncomfortable feeling of not measuring up.  I felt like crying.  I felt like I had failed an important test.  Like something truly significant had happened a few moments ago, but I couldn’t understand it.

 

Alyssa knelt beside him, and took his hand.  “All is well, Geoffrey. You are unharmed.  There is no danger here.”

 

“Something happened… Something happened inside the house.  Ghosts.  Voices spoke to me…”  Little by little, my panic was fading, and I became aware of Alyssa holding my hand, trying to comfort me.  “They knew my name.  They said I wasn’t ready.”

 

“Ready for what?”

 

“Ready to accept my destiny, or accept my birthright or something.  I didn’t understand what they meant.  About fighting something stronger than greed.”

 

“Are you going to be okay?” Tika asked.

 

“I don’t know… I’m really freaked out, but I’m okay.  I’ll be okay.”  I said, finally calming myself down to a functional level.  “Thanks.”  I said to Alyssa.

 

“You are welcome, Geoffrey.”   She released my hand, and smoothed her skirts to stand.  “If this place unsettles you, are we ready to move on?”

 

“Ask Rachel.” I said, getting up, and trying to see what was happening.

 

“Alyssa! Alyssa!”  Tika ran up Alyssa’s dress and started whispering in her ear.  Alyssa shook her head, and whispered back.  Meanwhile, I went to see how Rachel was doing. 

 

                Rachel was kneeling down, and lighting the third pyre.  As the fire caught, she paused, and looked back towards me.  She looked worried.  “You okay, Jeff?”

 

                “I guess.  Something really freaking weird happened inside.  I’m okay.  Let’s get the hell out of here, please.”

 

                “I’ll be right there.”  Rachel knelt and grabbed the iron lockbox I had found, and left the courtyard, the three pyres beginning to burn merrily, the dry wood going up literally like kindling. 

 

                “I feel sorry for those three people.”  I said.  I hope your gods, whoever they are, watch over you, I thought.  That’s a lousy way to go.  I hope you’re at peace.

 

                “Me too.  I think we did what we could for them.”  Rachel replied, watching the fires for a moment. 

 

                Although the initial fear had worn off, I still felt shaken and uncomfortable, and very much off balance.  “If you’re ready, can we go now?”

 

                “Yeah.  What happened in there?  You look freaked out.”

 

                “I heard voices – ghosts or something – but they knew my name, and I dunno, it freaked me out.  They asked me all sorts of questions, and I didn’t understand what they wanted from me.  All I knew is that they wanted something – and I got the impression I didn’t measure up.”

 

                “Weird. I believe you.” She said, taking my hand.  “If you want to talk, let me know, okay.”

 

                “Yeah, thanks.  I will.” 

 

                Rachel let go of my hand, and headed towards her pack.  “Can you give me a hand?  Getting this beast on is a bit much!”

 

                I smiled, and we helped each other get ready to travel.  Now all we had to do was descend the mountainside, and walk maybe twenty miles to a strange town through unknown wilderness.  We had our new friends, Tika and Alyssa to travel with… It kind of sounded like fun.  I wondered what their town would be like?

 

                A few minutes later, we were ready to travel.  Tika and Alyssa waved us over, and we followed.  It looked to be a long day.

 

 

*              *              *

 

 

The climb down from the mountainside was rather arduous, and we had little breath for chatter and talk.  By the time we reached the base of the mountain, we had emerged into a lovely forest of mixed trees that resembled oak, maple, elm and pine trees – but were subtly off, with minor differences.  Tika even pointed out a few types of trees that didn’t exist in our world – one with a rich dark brown color called (unimaginatively) darkwood or duskwood, and another with a rich purple tint and an attractive grain called lightning wood.  Apparently it gathered ‘lightning’ from the air, and stored it in the wood somehow.  I couldn’t help but wonder if my grandmothers trunk and mirror were made of the same wood. 

 

Once we reached the base of the mountain, we took a short break and caught our breath.  It wasn’t that the distance was great, rather, it was the steepness of the climb and the relatively rough terrain.  If Tika and Alyssa hadn’t helped us find the path down the mountain, it would have been a much rougher journey.

 

Alyssa took a swig of water from a waterskin, and then capped it.  “Did you two still want to learn about magic?”

 

“Yes, please!”  Rachel replied.

 

“Yeah, that would be great.”  I said.

 

“Do you want to start, Alyssa, or will I?”  Tika asked.

 

“Why don’t I start, and you can help me?”

 

“Okay!”  Tika was sitting on Alyssa’s shoulders and kind of half riding on her pack, half sitting on her shoulders. 

 

We started walking – at a bit slower pace than Alyssa or Tika would have preferred, but then they weren’t carrying a ton of gear for a months-long journey. 

 

“Well, first, I think I need to explain where magic comes from.”  Alyssa began.  “Magic, as we mortals use it, comes from a type of energy that we think comes from a place called the Void.  Sorcerers like Tika and I learn to channel the void energy into magic effects that most of us call spells.  It’s not as easy as that, though.  If you channel void energy without a filter – what we call a magical Word, the energy can harm you, or even kill you or drive you mad.”

 

“The Words we use to channel magic are simplifications of universal concepts – the word Fire, for example, is a simplification of the concept of fire, heat, light, and all the things that are associated with fire – from smoke to ashes, to rebirth in some ways.  There are 13 Words that we know of, encompassing all of creation.  Scholars group these words into four groups, called Pillars:  The Elements, Nature’s Fury, Form and Vision, and Primal Essences.  Together these four pillars support all of creation, and take into account all of the powers, forces, and invisible things that make creation possible.  I know the Word of Sight, which is in the Pillar of Form and Vision, and Tika knows the Word of Plants, which is in the Pillar of Nature’s Fury.”

 

  “And I guess these pillars of magic have affinities with each other – like the elements of earth, air, water and fire all being related?”  Rachel asked.

 

“Yes, exactly.  The Pillar of Nature’s Fury consists of Animism, Plants, and ‘Weather’, although most people call it ‘Sound and Fury’ around here.  The Pillar of Form and Vision consists of Mind, Body and Sight, and the Pillar of Primal Essences consists of Binding, Forces, and either Fate or Spirit, depending on how you wish to call it.  Spellcasters who can wield Primal Essences are a little rarer than most, but are not too uncommon.”

 

“Yeah, yeah but you forgot something, Alyssa!”  Tika called out.  “There’s lots of overlap between the words too!  You could make light with Sight, or you could do it with Fire.  Air or Water magic could affect the weather, or you could use Weather itself.  Each word has its own domain, I guess, for lack of a better word, but you can still get effects similar to a word you don’t know if you’re inventive enough!”

 

“Right!”  Alyssa laughed.  “Like Cheerit being able to teleport through plants, even though teleportation is from Forces.”

 

“Exactly!”  Tika chattered.   

 

“Wait, so these words that you channel magic through shape your spells?  You don’t have specific spells you memorize and cast?”  Jeff asked.

 

“What?  No, that’s ridiculous!  Who could possibly memorize all the spells you would need?”  Alyssa laughed.  “Or memorize all the little changes you would make for each differing need.  No – the words we study are instead like a general description of what we can do with our magic – and the better we are with our words, the more complicated and powerful our spells can be.”

 

“Wait, so someone with the Fire word could literally do ANYTHING related to fire, if they were powerful enough?”  Rachel asked.

 

“Yes, that’s it exactly!”  Alyssa remarked.  “Which is why a spellcaster with an excellent imagination and lower power can often out perform a more powerful caster who lacks imagination to use his powers in unusual ways!”

 

“Cool!”  Rachel replied, looking intrigued. 

 

I was wondering how that kind of power wasn’t all kinds of broken, or why sorcerers weren’t the rulers of the world.  Hell – maybe they were?  “So are sorcerers all-powerful then?  Or can soldiers and warriors deal with them if they get out of hand?”

 

“Oh, gods, no!  Sorcerers have great power, if they are skilled and experienced, but most sorcerers have little training in how to fight, and can often be overpowered, especially if taken unawares.  There are drugs that inhibit our ability to draw upon magical energy, and then there is the Call of Hrask.”

 

“WTF?”  Rachel joked.  “What is the Call of Hrask?”

 

“Hrask is the god of Magic and Greed.”  Alyssa said.  “He claims dominion over both.  Sorcerers who wield too much magic, or who exceed what we call their “limit” can be corrupted by Hrasks’ subtle whispers, eventually driving them insane and even transforming them into evil serpent people – the ancient enemy of humankind.   Almost all humans were once slaves of the dragon men and their Dragon overlords.  It wasn’t until the Gods gifted the heroes of legend with great powers, were we able to fight against their might and free ourselves.  Once we became free, Humanity spread over all of Mercia, and we explored what it meant to be free and to control our own destiny.  That was almost four thousand years ago.”

 

 “The Call of Hrask can affect you when you draw too much energy for your skill to allow safely – so when a novice attempts a spell that exceeds his power, he can accidentally suffer the Call of Hrask, in addition to being “kissed by the void” which can be lethal in some cases.  Another way to suffer the Call of Hrask is to draw too much power, too often – what I meant by exceeding your limits.”

 

“How do you know what your limit is?”  Rachel asked.

 

“Trial and error.  Everyone has a different capacity for magic, and some can wield more than others – and you can train yourself to slowly learn how to channel more and more magical energy too – but there isn’t an easy way to see what your limit is.  As you approach your limit, at least in my experience, I begin to feel headaches, a tiredness that doesn’t go away with rest, and a kind of straining or thinning, like butter scraped over too much toast.  When I exceed it, I suffer blinding heachaches, and usually suffer minor effects of the Call of Hrask for a few days to a week.”

 

“So there’s no safe way to figure out how much you can wield?  How do you prevent getting sick?”

 

“The answer is, you don’t.  It’s like getting drunk the first time… you know you want to drink, but you don’t know how much liquor you can tolerate.  Some people can tolerate a lot – some not so much.  You get drunk, learn your limits, and then deal with the hangover until you feel better.”

 

“And if you drink far too much, you die?”  Rachel asked.

 

“Or worse.  You become a Fallen.”  Tike replied.  “People who abandon reason and use too much magic often, become corrupted by Hrasks’ evil and eventually become Fallen – human sorcerers who have been transformed into serpent people, like the ones that once enslaved us.”

 

“It kind of sounds like anyone wanting to use magic would have to be insane.”  Rachel said, looking disillusioned.

 

“No – on the contrary, Rachel.  Magic is wonderful, and wielding it feels like you command the powers of the universe.  It’s not actually addictive, but it feels wonderful – and as long as you learn your limits, and stay within them – and stretch them carefully so they can grow, there is no more harm in using magic than using any other skill.  The dangers lie in those who are greedy for more power – and those who are driven to use too much magic due to necessity or great tribulation.” 

 

“Oh.  That actually sounds pretty manageable then.  Have you ever suffered the Call of Hrask?”

 

“Yes.”  Alyssa began.  “I have perhaps a handful of times.  I’m careful to stay inside my limits, but even I’ve passed them a few times.  I was kissed by the void once too, trying a spell I was unready for… I was laid up in bed for several days, recovering.  The longest I’ve ever had to deal with the Call was about a week.”

 

“Me too.”  Tika replied.  “I’ve felt it a few times too.  I got so sick I couldn’t fly and had to stay in bed, and I heard voices and whispers for five days.”

 

“Voices and whispers?”  I asked.

 

“You know, like little whispers at the edge of your hearing, telling you to do evil things – while you can almost, but not quite hear fire and drums and chanting, and have feelings inside you that make you suspicious and snappy and nasty to everyone around you.  That’s what it’s like for me.”

 

“Oh gods!  That sounds horrible!”  Rachel replied.

 

“It kind of sounds like when Frodo puts on the One Ring.”  I said.  “That’s not cool.  I take it Hrask is one of the Dark Three?  The evil gods?”

 

“Yes.”  Alyssa said.  “He is one of the three.  The others are Lasheera the Tormented, and Ushalas the Undying – although most simply call him ‘The Dark One.’  Lasheera is the mother of monsters, Hrask is the lord of magic and dragons, and The Dark One is the lord of evil and undeath.  His minions are those who prefer death to life.”

 

“Are undead a common threat?”  I asked.

 

“Not usually.  When people die, the priests sanctify the bodies, which protects them from being risen as the undead.  In communities without a priest, the dead are not so protected, as are those who die in the wilderness.” Alyssa replied.

 

“Do priests have to deal with the Call of Hrask, too?”

 

“No.  The power of the gods channels the energy to their priests and followers – they don’t have to worry about the Call of Hrask, but they can still draw too much power and be kissed by the void, and if they use their magic in a way that offends their patron, their patron can withhold his or her blessings for as long as is needed.”

 

“Wow.”  Rachel was sounding more than a little overwhelmed by all the information, and to be honest, so was I.

 

We walked quietly for another few miles, everyone saving their breath.  We had recently left the small forest, and entered an area of grassy hills, dotted with scrub bushes and small trees.  I remembered grandma’s journal describing most of the area around Ender’s Hollow as either moors or hills and scrub growth, so I gathered we were on the right track.  At least it was matching what grandma had written.

 

A few hours passed, and we paused for lunch – cold sausage, cheese, some hard boiled eggs for Tika and Alyssa, and some military rations for Rachel and I.  I personally had a peanut butter and jam sandwich that was prepared in 1988 – so it was only 31 years old.  It still tasted pretty fresh, too!

 

“Do you think anyone in town would be willing to teach me some magic?  I think I can do some already.”  Rachel asked as we ate.

 

“What can you do?”  Alyssa asked.

 

Rachel blushed.  “I can bend a spoon.  With my mind.  When I do, I get nasty headaches, and often a bad nosebleed.”

 

“It sounds like you have an affinity for the Word “Forces” – which is movement, apportation, and so on.”  Tika chattered.  “It also sounds like you’re kissing the void to do it, too.  Has anyone ever told you the Word of Forces?”

 

“Umm. No.  People on my world didn’t really believe in magic, remember.”

 

“Oh, sorry!  I don’t know the word, but I bet Cheerit does!  That’s my teacher!  I’ll ask if she can teach you!”

 

“Thanks, Tika.” 

 

“You’re welcome, welcome, welcome!”  Tika was still full of energy!

 

“We should pick up the pace, Geoffrey, Rachel.”  Alyssa began.  “Otherwise we won’t reach the village by nightfall.”

 

“Okay.  We’ll do what we can.”  I said.

 

“Yeah, I’ll do my best.”  Rachel joined in.

 

After lunch, we walked the rest of the day at an increased pace – which gave us little stamina for chatter, as Rachel and I were struggling to keep up with our heavy packs.  After three more tiring hours, we came to the edge of some farmers fields and a few small clusters of forested area.  Ahead, we could see cookfires rising into the late afternoon sky.

 

“There!  Ender’s Hollow is just beyond that rise!  We’re very close!”  Alyssa said.  “Let us show you our town!  C’mon!”

 

With that, Tika and Alyssa headed off at a stiff clip towards town, and Rachel and I struggled to keep up. 

 

Ender’s Hollow!  We were finally here!