“But his home is burning! Morell shrieked. “My specimens are burning! Oh no… My book!” With that, Morell hauled off and slugged the prince across the jaw, which allowed him to shake free and run back toward the house. Hoxley tried to stop him, but the boys’ legs were a blur as they carried him up and into the house. She looked to the prince, who was holding his face where he’d been struck.

  “Ow…” Prince Damron grimaced as he continued to rub the spot. “He…he hit me!”

  “And that fool just ran back inside to his death if he doesn’t hurry. That cabin is going up like a tinderbox.” But no sooner than she’d said this, the pudgy form emerged from around the side of the house with his arms full of items.

  “Get back!” Morell yelled as he ran. “Get back and get away!”

  “I think we’re at a safe distance.” Hoxley said. The boy didn’t stop running but instead ran right past them, his book and a backpack in his arms.

  “Suit yourself! I wouldn’t stay this close if I were you!” He said as he kept running. The prince and Hoxley exchanged a concerned glance before slowly backpedaling and following where he ran. Once they reached a distance that an archer with a short bow would have trouble hitting the cabin with an arrow. Morell finally stopped. He panted and gasped as he cried.

  “This is all so terrible.” He snorted. “My grandfather…my specimens…it took years. Now it’s gone. Why? Why did this happen? Why did you come here?”

  “We were only seeking shelter for the night,” Hoxley said. “We’re grateful for the meal and shelter.”

  “A lot of good that does us now.” He said bitterly. “You got a meal, and now I’m homeless.”

  “Can’t you go live with your parents?”

  “I don’t have any parents.” Morell said, setting his book down and putting on a backpack that was almost as big as he was. It had pockets and flaps galore holding jars and other small bottles. “I lost my parents to thieves on the road when I was little. It was a miracle that I was delivered to my grandfather for him to raise me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Said the prince.

  “Look at it.” He said. “Everything is about to be destroyed.”

  “There’s a chance that something could survive the fire.” Hoxley said. In the distance, a loud popping noise began to emanate from the huge fire.

  “No, I don’t think you’re right. Remember when I told you that some of the mushroom specimens I collect are flammable?”

  “Flammable?” the prince said with surprised look.

  “Yes. I remember.” Hoxley nodded.

  “Well, those made up at least half my collection.”

  A terrible noise split the air. Hoxley, Morell, and Prince Damron’s eyes grew ide in horror as the burning remains of the cabin exploded into thousands upon thousands of flaming matchsticks sailing in all directions. Each of the three standing there held up a defensive hand to shield themselves as pieces rained down upon them. If not for Morell’s warning to take higher ground, both Hoxley and the prince would’ve been killed instantly. A smoke plume four times the size of the Sweet Water millhouse drifted up into the morning sky.

  “That’s going to attract a lot of attention.” said Hoxley without taking her eyes off the burning debris.

  “Then we’ll have to carry on and be fast about it.” Damron agreed.

  “Where are you two headed?” Morell asked as he wiped the snot from his nose and tears from his cheeks.

  “Two days' travel from here,” Hoxley told him as she sheathed her pugil upon her back. “To Spellvale, the hungry acre where the witches are. I have a good friend there. It should be a good place to stop and find a meal as we carry on.”

  “Well…” Morell said as he glanced back at the burning crater that up until two minutes ago had been his home. “Can I travel with you at least as far as Spellvale? I have things in my pack to trade with them, and I have several canisters of mushrooms we can eat along the way.”

  “Don’t you want to stay and bury your grandfather’s remains?” Hoxley asked.

  “It would take the rest of the year to find all the pieces,” he said “I don’t have the strength or knowledge to rebuild the cabin. Look at it. There’s nothing left. No. It’s better to go. But tell me this; why did my grandfather attack you? He must’ve had a reason to do such a thing. Tell me the truth.”

  “It’s a long story.” said the prince. “But terrible men have done terrible things. Hoxley and I are trying to reach people who may be able to help us in making them pay. This…this is a regrettable disaster because of them.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “A long story, eh? It appears we have a two day walk ahead of us, so perhaps you can enlighten me.”

  “We can talk along the way,” Hoxley said, putting one hand upon his shoulder. “But we need to get as far from here as possible lest we be found.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Morell said with his chin high as he shrugged the pack higher on his shoulders. “Let’s start for Spellvale. In time, I will make those terrible men pay for what they’ve done.”

  The trio traveled in fair weather across the plains toward Spellvale. Tall wild grasses swayed in waves across fields endless and green. Mactabah birds swooping and diving to feast on the grasshoppers and insects jumping between the blades. No travelers passed them on the paths they chose, so it wasn’t necessary for the prince to leave his hood down while they walked. He liked keeping it down as it allowed the wind to blow across his face and hair taking in the lands he’d never seen before. He bombarded Hoxley with a plethora of questions about things the faun girl thought should be common knowledge for anyone.

  “How do we know we’re heading in the right direction?” he asked her.

  “Because I know Spellvale to be Northwest of where we were and this path is heading in that direction.”

  “How did you find it the first time you traveled this way?”

  “I have a map.”

  “But you haven’t looked at it the whole time we’ve been walking.”

  “Once you travel a path so many times it becomes familiar. True, you have to keep your eyes open but when its familiar you can relax and enjoy the scenery.” She took in a long inhalation through her nose. “Smell that grass.” She said with satisfaction. I’ve only seen it grow here in this quiet place. With the dew upon it in the morning it almost looks blue.”

  “Poa Pratensis” Added Morell. Both looked back to see the red-haired boy smiling.

  “I thought you studied mushrooms.” Said the prince.

  “I study lots of living things.” He said with pride. “Conditions necessary for Poa Pratensis to grow exist in many places other than here.”

  “Like where?” She asked.

  “I-I don’t know where exactly…” He pondered. “But I imagine elevation, rainfall, climate and environments similar to this one, are bound to be elsewhere.”

  “That makes sense.” Said the prince.

  “You say you have a good friend in Spellvale?” Morell asked.

  “I do.” Hoxley said. “A pair of them actually.”

  “And they’re witches?” The prince asked.

  “Undoubtedly they are witches.”

  “How did you become friends with witches?” The prince asked

  “The same way you become friends with anyone, I suppose. Be nice, be respectful and listen. I think that’s all anyone really wants. I once delivered a package of rare herbs and seasonings to them and met them when they took receipt.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Hoxley realized what she’d said and quickly glanced to the prince as he patted his breast pocket, no doubt discovering the slip of paper had gone absent. The two made eye contact for only a moment before she looked away and he went back to patting his pockets without making it look like that’s what he was doing.

  “Are you ok?” She asked him.

  “Yes, yes, everything is fine.” He lied, feeling every single pocket once more.

  “What are they like?” Morell asked. “You know, the witches?” Hoxley thought it over for a moment before answering.

  “They’re mostly merry and playful tricksters. The two I know are peculiar in their own way. One is effervescent and giggly, while the other is… well, far less effervescent and giggly.”

  “And they’ve never tried to enchant you to do their bidding?” asked the prince.

  “No, of course not!” Hoxley wrinkled her freckled nose. “Why would they do such a thing?”

  “Well because…you know… because they’re witches!”

  “Now listen here!” Hoxley said as she stopped and turned to face him. “I don’t care who you think you are, but you listen good…” She pounded the end of her pugil on the ground just in front of the toes of his boots. “I’ve been friends with witches for some time and you’ve never been around them once so I don’t want to hear any more disparaging words about witches! If you don’t know, just watch and listen! You’ll see for yourself when the time comes but I do not want you to embarrass me in front of the people who have been nothing but welcoming and pleasant since I first laid hoof in Spellvale! If you have any questions then you should ask!” An uncomfortable pause passed across the three before the prince spoke.