After arguing with Ida for quite a while, I had been somewhat convinced that my search for Amara was a curve in the road of my Journey. It all made sense, really, but I couldn’t help feeling afraid of what might be around the bend.
“Oh, tosh! If you keep worryin’ about what’s around the bend, you’ll never leave your front yard,” said Ida.
“Yeah? That’s beginning to sound very good to me!”
Ida just shook her head.
“And on top of that,” I whined, “I don’t even know where to start looking for her.”
“That’s easy! Start at Silky’s Place.”
“Who?”
“Silky, chief of the local band of fairies and a major pain in my backside… oh, you don’t need to tell her I said that.”
“And she know’s how to find Amara?”
“Dunno. But she guards the faraway tree and knows the forests and jungles and every living thing on this side of Duwamish Bay. She’ll get you going the right way. Now you’d better get some shut eye. I’ll have Mimi pack your gear so you’ll have everything you need.”
After our conversation, I slept for the rest of the day and all through the night. I awoke the next morning refreshed. Even the wound on my leg felt better.
Ida and the Inn’s staff bid me an enthusiastic farewell, and I set off up the road that led out of Duwamish into the mists of the forest. Ida had warned me not to use the magic wings as Silky’s Place would not be visible from the air. I didn’t mind since I was in no particular hurry to start this leg of my Journey.
As I trekked, the forest grew darker and wetter and I was glad Ida had provided me with a flannel jacket. I pulled the candle out of Enchanteur’s bag and was able to cast a little more light on the trail before me. About three hours into my journey, I stumbled out of forest into a clearing. I saw a small house embedded in the roots of the biggest redwood tree I had ever seen.
Lights glowed through glass covered windows and, at the risk of being rude, I pressed my face to one of them, trying to see if anyone was in there.
I saw that a table had been set for five and several logs glowed in the fireplace, but there was no one in sight. I stepped over to the door and knocked. The mist had finally turned to rain, and I was getting drenched. I knocked a few more times and finally, cautiously, pushed open the door.
“Hello? Is there anyone here? May I come in? It’s a little cold and wet.”
I stepped into the parlor. The inside of the house seemed much larger than the outside of the house. Not knowing what to do, I decided just to sit and wait until someone returned.
As I pulled off my wet jacket, I heard a commotion coming from the kitchen.
“Give it to me!”
“NO! It’s mine.”
“No, it’s not! It belongs to me!”
Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open and a blur of hair and wings tumbled out. Two winged fairies each held on to the hem of a green dress, playing tug-a-war.
“I said it was mine!” screamed one. She yanked the dress causing it to rip down the middle. The fairy flailed backwards right into my chest. We both fell to the floor, me right on my bum.
“Ooooooooo, look what you did,” crooned the other fairie. “You’re in big trouble now!”
To be continued
Lori Gloyd (c) 2007
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