But of course the idea that I’d let Freydis stay there without even trying to stop her was crazy; she was clearly not thinking straight. She was nearly enslaved to the dryad. And I couldn’t very well return to town, either directly or after trying to find Slade’s hoard, and then just tell Uncle Danzig and Aunt Lila that I had left their daughter behind with a wood sprite.

  *

  I woke up at dawn, among the pines, and lay there a while. When I finally sat up, I happened to see Collina and Freydis walking together, again, away from me and some distance away through the trees. Had I kept myself hidden from dryad? Probably not, I know; she probably knew exactly where I was. But I hopped up and trotted to the cottage to talk with Caiside. I found her sitting outside on the porch.

  “Freydis is not here,” she told me.

  “I know, I saw them out there in the woods. Caiside, listen. This wise woman up in the hills, the one we fabricated. You almost seem to know her.”

  “She’s not real, Flicker.”

  “Yes, but you portray her so well. Tell me: What would her advice be about someone who was enthralled to a dryad? Or enthralled to an alkonost, say? How would she say to rescue that person?”

  “Well,” she said. She brightened up a little, seeming to enjoy the question. “There would be some things to try. First, of course, would be to simply kill the dryad. But I don’t believe – ”

  “No, we’re not going to do that.”

  “No, of course not. It would not be so easy, either, you know. Well then, next, I think the advice would be to box the victim on the ears. And you might have to do so with some force. To snap her out of it.”

  “I’d rather not try that with Freydis, either. And I can’t see that working; I think that would just entrench her in her thinking.”

  “Likely,” Caiside answered. “Another course would be to try to draw her out with something, some object, familiar to her. A keepsake from home, perhaps heirloom jewelry. A letter from someone else. A pet. Something along those lines.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “So I should have brought along candy for fifty kobold children, and now a necklace or something from Lila. I’ll know what to pack for this quest once it’s over.”

  I didn’t have anything from the list that Caiside proposed, of course. We were carrying mostly food, and clothing, that was all.

  But I did have a wool cloak. And that wool had come from a sheep which Freydis had raised.

  *

  I waited just outside the yard, amid the pines, still able to see the cottage, for most of the day. I hoped that Collina would leave the house. If she did, would she notice me trying to conceal myself? Again I assume she probably would, but I hid anyway just in case.

  Maybe I should have told Caiside to try to go for a walk with Collina, so that Freydis would be alone. I could have tried that right after she’d told me about what the advice from the fake wise woman would be, when she seemed to be more herself. Or I could have tried to play upon any jealousy she might be feeling, with Collina and Freydis getting along so well, by telling her she was missing out on the dryad’s attention. But none of that had come to me while I was on the porch talking to her. No one has ever accused me of being a quick thinker.

  But eventually, in the late afternoon, Collina did walk out, alone. She headed back to the garden.

  I ran in, past Caiside who was still out on the porch. Freydis was once again just seated by the iron stove, with its fire going as always, staring out the window.

  I started in:

  It's so hard to see you falling for this starry-eyed enchantment;

  like you’ve run off with marauders to go live in their encampment.

  So I’m going to walk out, then, to continue on this quest, and

  I’ll just leave you with this hermit if you think that’s for the best.

  And I guess I’ll tell your parents that you got seduced by pines,

  and then you and poor Slade’s friend here went and calmly lost your minds.

  I’m so sorry that I’m being blunt, but now’s no time to mince

  words about your dreamy doe eyes that are making me just wince.

  Where’s the Freydis that I knew? The one who is direct and candid?

  The one that throttles rattlesnakes, and knocks down wasps barehanded?

  The one who throws two full-grown sheep at once over her shoulder?

  The one who’s there to chop a tree, or dig up any boulder?

  Who gathers honeycomb by hand? Who roasts her own quicklime?

  Well –

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Now she’s prostrate by the fire, paralyzed by tea time.

  All right then, cousin, you can stay here with your cloying friend,

  and I’ll head out with Slade’s map; see this journey to its end.

  But let me show you one thing that you will admit is crucial.

  And you can think upon it while this sprite works her bamboozle.

  This cloak, here. Here it is. I’ll spread it out for you to see.

  It came from sheep raised on your farm. A thing you’ve done for me.

  Your parents made that ranch from scratch, and you get credit too;

  Their trade would not be what it is without the sweat from you.

  Who else could shear those sheep like you, a score or more a day?

  Who will mend a fence for them? Throw around bales of hay?

  Who will train the dogs for wolves, ready to attack?

  When a lamb sneaks off at night, who’s going to haul it back?

  Some people honor diving hawks, or eagles in the sky;

  they’ll choose a boar to mark their clan, or ravens soaring high.

  For me, though, there’s no beast around that weighs in more heroic

  than sheep. Consistent with their fleece. Calm, and nobly stoic.

  Before your family started ranching, wool was all the business

  of the Dwarves up there past Death Crags; all those cheats in Uaerlig Veikryss.

  Remember how they’d rip us off, and try to sell us hare wool

  in bales that were sodden; underweight if we weren’t careful?

  This cloak will keep me warm; and if it rains, I’ll still be snug,

  thanks to the work your family’s done. It’s like an Enkel hug.

  I’ll think of you as I trudge through the Drearwold, fogged or misted,

  And thanks to you, and to this cloak, they’ll say, “That man persisted.”

  Freydis finally made eye contact with me.

  And then she nearly leaped out of her chair, and ran out into the yard. Her footsteps banged on the porch, and she was off.

  Fortunately, she headed out into the woods, not back into the garden. I chased after her.

  *

  I caught up some distance from the twisting pathway.

  “Freydis!”

  She stopped and turned.

  “Go back there!” she shouted at me.

  “What?”

  “To get my gear! And grab Caiside! And don’t look at – that thing.”

  “Can you help?”

  “No!” she shouted. “Are you serious, Flicker? I can’t be around her again! Burn it down!”

  “I don’t think Caiside will listen.”

  “She will. She’s not as far in as I was.”

  I turned and ran back.

  *

  Once in the clearing I ran straight to the cottage. To Caiside, I shouted as I passed her:

  “We’re going! Freydis isn’t coming back! Pick up those crutches and get your things!”

  I dashed into the cottage and found Freydis’s bag by her cot. Caiside had risen and was now standing in the doorway; I grabbed her bag too and slung it over my shoulder. Her bedroll, I tossed to her.

  “Flicker – ” she said.

  “Now! We can talk out in the woods.”

  I turned again and looked at the cots, chairs, and pillows.

  And the stove.

  It had the teapot tray on it, still, and a little pot of something. Its fire was burning, as always.

  It was not large.

  Its exhaust pipe ran up to the ceiling, but it wasn’t very heavy.

  The stove was not bolted down to the floor. It was just sitting atop a brick platform.

  I was nearly certain that Freydis had been speaking figuratively, when she told me to burn the place down; but I kicked the stove, hard. The first time, it slid on the bricks a bit. The second time, I knocked it over. Its door fell open, coals fell out onto the pillows on the floor; the exhaust pipe broke and clattered down; smoke filled the room.

  Caiside was swinging her way across the yard, and I bolted after.

  To my left, Collina was chasing us, and she drew even. She ran very fast, like a deer.

  “You may not!” she yelled. She reached out and pushed me.

  “You need water,” I told her. “You’ve got a fire in there.” I nodded back toward the house.

  She stopped and looked back, aghast. Smoke was coming out the doorway. She darted back; all the way back to her well, I assumed.