Author: Hob Goodfellowe

The boy had the distinct feeling that intruders might intend as much harm as they liked: yet, no harm would easily be done to these folk, not here in their nest-house. Only a fool would think otherwise. The elderly Hob blinked at both him and Caewen–ponderously–with his piercing yellow-orange eyes. He then said, after clearing…

The rock scratched and even left a few shallow cuts on his fingers and forearms. At least there were plenty of handholds, and–he was relieved to think–it had not been raining lately. Rough and sharp was painful, but seemed better than slick or slippery. Every two or three minutes worth or climbing there was a…

They followed a sort of twisting path through the valley, though the boy had the distinct feeling that it was not much used–presumably, because few who lived in the hidden village had much need of walking long distances. When the group drew close to the shadows of the first great house-tree, Fleat turned aside and…

They followed carefully–stepping warily–unsure what to expect. As it turned out, when they passed into the light beyond the tunnel, they found a large rift valley opening before them. Blinking dumbly in the light, the boy found himself only able to stare in wonder. Stretching before them was a ravine: long, twisting, narrow and deep….

“Yes,” said Caewen. She seemed to have recovered enough to get out a few words. “Thanks and many thanks. That was awful. We’ve never met anything quite like those walking shrubs before.” “You haven’t,” said Dapplegrim. “Honestly, I should have known better. Hur. Hurm.” The strange-eyed boy blinked, slowly and magnificently. “It was no inconvenience…

Caewen got to her feet quickly, if also somewhat unsteadily. She reached out with both hands for the saddle. Regardless of what she’d said, the boy couldn’t sit and do nothing–he reached for her with one free hand, while he tangled his other, loop upon loop, in a length of bridle leather. Dapplegrim said, “Ouch!”…

The boy blinked and tried to understand. The accent was strange. “Are you talking the Altongue?” “I am. And so are you.” He blinked a big slow ponderous blink. “I thinks so, anyways.” Dapplegrim didn’t seem to have even noticed the strange child. He was stamping wildly, and snorting air through his big nostrils. The…

The scrub around them grew thicker and wilder and less friendly looking. Soon they were crossing a landscape of rough rock, dusty soil and large gorse bushes. The gorse was adorned with the brilliant yellow flowers of the season, which gave the scene a sort of beauty that was rendered frail by the thick layers…