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Blurb
BOOK THREE OF THE TREES SERIES
    Mud, Book III of The Trees Series: Peter’s friends are violently ejected from his world, only to find themselves in a land of pink-tinged fog and flaming trees, triple moonscapes and eye-burningly bright skies - a land as unbelievably deadly as it is beautiful.
    What begins as an unnatural mistake, soon becomes a race for survival: a race against injury, starvation, and death. The story continues.


Mud


Book Three of The Trees Series


by N. D. Hansen-Hill


***

Dedication


To my children - Tamsyn, Travers, Tashley, Tesslyn - and their mud. May their hands never come completely clean…

***
**Author's Note**


Mud originated as part of Shades, which is now book four of this series. As Shades grew, it quickly got out of control, and finally burst, exploding into two books. There were too many words, and too much action, to be accommodated in a single epic adventure. If a few ends remain dangling, rest assured that they will be resolved. The manner of resolution, however, is another story…
***

Mud


Within us each still sits a child
Whose earthbound spirit once ran wild,
To revel in lesser things of worth -
The wind, the rain, the rich dark earth.
*
Drawn to the essence from which they rose,
Muddying hands and fingers, feet and toes;
For the child it's not mind-shattering news,
That they've risen from primordial ooze.
*
Is race memory caught in those lifeless layers?
Do we need to touch what has gone before?
To feel and trace the clay-wrought patterns -
Of the no-longer-living who form our core?
*
Or is there safety in the inanimate,
That we can chip and churn and dominate?
To mould or pulverise at will,
Needing only a flair for destructive skill.
*
If it all should change and go awry,
If the bad ones win and the good ones die,
If the fire burns but does not consume,
And a cherub's kiss is the bite of doom?
*
If the mud should flow in a pensive course,
To lash at you with disastrous force?
Natural laws twisted and run amok
And survival keyed to speed and luck?
*
Would you flee the battle and end the strife,
Run from predators and win your life?
Or stay and fight, in a useless duel,
Like the headstrong child, the wilful fool?
*


by N. D. Hansen-Hill
***

Prologue


        Long ago, a cluster of seeds found their way through a dimensional portal, to germinate in Earthen soils under a yellow sun. More than likely, the passage was accidental - the seeds somehow clinging to fur or rough clothing - to be flung to the ground upon arrival in this world. The touch of the Earth was magic: the age-old magic of germinating root and stem. The seedlings flourished, growing aloft to take and hold their small stand of ground. They spread outward from the portal, and became its sentinels: their strangeness kindling a fearful response, that provided a safety zone for those travelling the portal, against the likelihood of discovery.
        Beings of the Earth were unaware of this dimensional easement, having no vision to see the glowing lights, nor hearing capable of acknowledging the gate's powerful roar. Earthlings recognised only a feeling of discomfort in the vicinity of the portal, and were made uneasy by the strange responses of watches and compasses to the electromagnetism of the place. Only those with the genetic make-up to travel the gate, could actually be witness to it.
        Through the years, the secret of the portal became known to a few, mainly through their own folly. Burning the wood from the Trees gave rise to a genetic mutation, that altered all who inhaled the smoke. Mutants could see, and hear, and walk, where no Earthling had been able to go - to use dimensional portals to journey to and through worlds that humankind had only imagined.
        Humans were not alone in traversing dimensions. Many of their companions bore similarities to creatures named in human mythology and tradition - creatures who had dwelt briefly on the earth, then gone on to unknown destinations. Humankind pronounced them dead, or non-existent. Mutant humans merely shook their heads, and waited for the inevitable day when they would meet these creatures, in their world or others.
        The changes in the human form incited pity in some, envy or greed in others. Peter, Trevor, Katy, and Mari were the most recent victims of smoke from the Trees, and had suffered at the hands of their fellow humans, who wanted to harness and use this latest genetic mutation.
        Through shared effort, and with the help of staunch allies, they'd survived. And, somehow, in the hours of fear and risk, these allies had become more than that - they'd become friends. Among them were Thyme and Lily - two fairies who had offered help and received it, in a give-and-take effort that had forged a strong bond between humans and off-worlders. Other helpers, from gnomes to gargoyles, had risked their freedom, and shown that kinship is more than a genetic linkage.
        Their worst enemy had been another mutant, whose genetic alteration had been rough and painful - lacking the smoothness of those whose cells linked smoke and air. In battling this monstrous entity, many trans-dimensional helpers had been called into the fracas, to salvage the lives of those they had come to value, and call friend.
        Now, the victors rest. The Trees stand quietly, while people born in two worlds romp and play, enjoying the novelty of their Earthly visit.
***

Chapter One


        Peter shook his head as he carefully manoeuvred through the ruins of his front hall. After a few days of climbing in and out of the holes held together by carpet, he was developing a steeple-chasing technique of leaping from one firm place to the next. He entered the lounge, momentarily relieved to find it near-empty, then panicking as he wondered where all the usual inhabitants had cavorted off to, and what trouble they were likely to be in.
        Katy was there, and he was amazed to find two wongnits sharing the big wing chair with her. Melpis was draped across Katy's lap - her head and tail flopping awkwardly over the chair arms. She was crooning in contentment, as Katy stroked her furry coat, while Deron paced restlessly back and forth across the couch, up onto the chair back and down again. He was waiting for Melpis to tire of this, so they could play. What Deron really wanted was to swing from the curtains and curtain rods, but the humans were watching, and certain activities were best reserved for those wonderful moments when humans were busy doing something else.
        "Hello, Love -" Katy reached out a hand to Peter, the glow in her eyes brightening at the sight of him.
        He couldn't believe how beautiful she looked to him. The green of her skin held a bluish tinge, that mingled with a golden cast to make her appear like some rare being in ornamental plumage. "What are you thinking about, Peter?" She tilted her head, giving him a joyful smile.
        "How exotic you look, Katy-my-love."
        She frowned. "Exotic. That's just another way of saying strange. Maybe freakish would be a better word."
        Peter came over, using one hand to shove Deron off the back of the chair, and the other (while he had Katy occupied with a kiss), to push the near-somnolent Melpis on to the floor. On hearing a hiss, he looked at Melpis, saying simply but firmly, "Mine." Then he turned back to Katy, tugging a waist-length piece of hair out to study it, then moving it aside to trail kisses across her neck.
        "You're changing the subject," she said.
        "What subject?" he muttered.
        "Of my looks. And what you think of them."
Peter cleared his throat. He hated this topic. Whatever he said always seemed to get him in trouble. But now, he felt he had a safe answer. "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Katherine Ryder." He smiled, anticipating a warm response in return.
        Instead, he sensed Katy was near tears. "But, Peter," she asked, "didn't you think I was beautiful before?"
        Trevor came bounding in then - hesitating when he realised he was interrupting something. "I'm sorry, you two." He grinned apologetically. "Sometimes I forget this is your house."
        Katy felt embarrassed. Putting her arms around Peter to give him a squeeze, her glance a quick apology, she said to Trevor, "If you ever apologise for being here again, Trev - either you or Mari - I'll turn you so many colours of the rainbow -" she grinned as she wiggled her fingers at him in the mock threat, "- that not even Mari will be able to change you back. Got it?"
        Trevor looked at his green frame. "Hey, that might not be a bad idea. This green is passé." He looked pointedly at Katy. "It used to be relatively rare, but now every Thomasina, Richelle, and Harriette is wearing it." Mari strolled into the room, and his eyes followed her. "Although, I must admit, it looks much better on you two than on the originals."
        "What looks better?" Mari looked around at the others.
        "Green," Peter said. "I was in the middle of telling Katy she's a rare beauty, when Trevor came in and spoiled my line. It was an emotionally moving moment -"
        "More like bowel-moving, if that was the end of it I heard." Trevor sank down into a chair, and tugged Mari into his lap: something that was quickly becoming a habit. "You just don't understand women, Peter. Mari -"
        She turned to look him in the eyes.
        "- here, knows I adore her. Now that this has all happened -" he waved his arm to indicate their four green forms, "I don't see why we can't make your upcoming nuptials a foursome. What do you say, Mari?" Mari had stiffened while he was speaking. Now, she looked at him, her eyes bereft, then stumbled from the room.
        Katy looked at Trevor, her expression aghast. "Oh, Trevor!" she said. "How could you be so insensitive?" She disengaged herself from Peter's arms and ran after Mari.
        Trevor buried his face in his hands. "Jeez, Pete! What did I say?" He looked at his friend, and his expression would have been comical if he weren't so upset.
*
        Mari ran out of the lounge, and stumbled across the hole-ridden hallway. She headed toward the rear, and the door that led down to where the kitchen used to be. As she slammed the door some part of her was anticipating the satisfying crunch of wood ramming wood. The soft closing of the door did nothing to soothe her temper.
        Mari turned to see Katy and the two wongnits. The wongnits scampered rapidly ahead, down the well-worn path to the woods, already anticipating the joyful teasing of a certain purple cat-beast. Katy moved quietly into step with Mari.
        Sighing, Mari accepted that her moment alone, to think things through, was not to be. She was destined to have Katy's company, whether she wanted it or not. Of course, Katy would go if I hinted her away. But, she admitted, Katy's silence would be preferable to a lonely mulling over of the turmoil in her romantic life.
        As long as Katy doesn't say anything to try to make me feel better.
        Katy didn't. She understood more than Mari thought, about how Trevor's seeming nonchalance had hurt her - Mari - making her feel as though he was making an offer because she was the only one around, rather than because she was special - and the only one - for him. Katy had known Trevor for a long time, and had sensed his nervousness when he'd made his suggestion. She knew that it signified just how important to him Mari's answer really was. But mentioning his nervousness to Mari would only make her feel worse: not only had he thrown the offer in her face, but he'd been nervous about doing it, as though it was something he really wasn't sure about. You really blew it, Trev, she thought.
*
        Thyme flew into the room from where he'd been lingering in the doorway. "You derriere-brain!" But he sat on Trevor's shoulder in commiseration. "I'm having problems with Lily, too," he admitted. "She's so stand-offish that she's driving me mad!"
        "Well, your arrival saved me, Trev. Katy had just asked me one of those 'damned-if-I-answer, damned-if-I-don't' questions about her looks, and I never get those right." Peter looked at Thyme. "I don't know what's wrong with Lily, Thyme, but Katy and Mari are feeling really insecure about their looks right now. I can sense it."
        "That's right." Trevor nodded. "If Mari knew how much courage it took for me to ask her -"
        Peter grinned. "Inexperience will tell."
        "Oh, yeah," Trevor said sourly. "The voice of Mr. Experience."
        "Well, at least, Katy's agreed to marry me -" Peter said quickly, then immediately regretted it.
        Trevor lost his temper. "Well, agreeing is not the same as saying, 'I do', is it?" he said huffily.
        "That's nothing!" Thyme said miserably. "Lily's already said, 'I don't'." His words shocked the other two into momentary silence.
        "That's impossible!" Peter said. "We all know the way she feels about you. Her aura goes all pink whenever you're around -"
        Thyme buzzed over to zap Peter on the shoulder. "Don't go making comments about Lily's aura!"
        Peter rubbed his shoulder, which was still stinging. "All I meant, you little moron, is that it's obvious she's crazy about you."
        Trevor concurred. "I, personally, can't figure out why, but she thinks you're something special."
        "Well, maybe Mari has figured out how stupid and dull you really are, Butthead, and that's why she won't have anything to do with you."
        "Low blow, Fairy," Peter commented.
        "And, maybe, Lily has just figured out what a two-faced, fickle, hot-headed, rotten little pus-head you are, Thyme. She could do better fishing something out of the toilet -"
        Thyme attacked Trevor, hitting him with such force that the chair was bowled over backwards. "And, maybe, if I mess you up enough -" the fairy panted, "- Mari will feel so sorry for you that you'll be able to con her into spending some of her valuable time with you -"
        "And we'll see how Lily likes you without any wings -"
        Peter decided he'd better interrupt them. As Thyme drew back for another high-powered dive-bombing attack, Peter helped Trevor to his feet, then placed himself between the two. Thyme laughed gleefully, then barrelled into Peter. The two humans went over backwards.
        Trevor pushed Peter off him. "Dammit, Peter! I can fight my own battles - get your big butt off me!"
        "Don't take your bad temper and romantic inadequacies out on me, Trev!"
        Trevor opened his mouth to make a sarcastic comment, just as Thyme - wings sparking - buzzed in with a special delivery message of his own.
Suddenly, the three of them froze. A series of shrill screams shattered the stillness of the afternoon.
*
        Mari was heading for the woods - wanting to enjoy the spectacle of the fairies at play, before going to watch the lights of the gates. She had yet to experience dimensional travel, and the possibilities fascinated her, besides giving her something to take her mind away from the emotional ups-and-downs of her relationship with Trevor.
        The fairies, including Thyme's father - Aristi - had found these woods, with their odd insects, small mammals, and spicily-scented foliage, to be a place rich with possibility, and Mari derived pleasure now from the bright sparkles that darted in and out amidst the branches. Winged horses could be seen balancing in leafy arbours in the canopy, and Mari smiled when Symmerley and Zylon popped their heads out to issue their oddly echoing call in recognition. The leaves encircling their necks reminded her of the wreathes borne by winning racehorses, and the thought of what havoc these two would wreak in a race made her chuckle. She turned to Katy, wanting to share the analogy with her.
        But Katy was absorbed in reflections of her own. As she walked at Mari's side now, her silence was no longer out of respect for Mari's unhappiness, but out of a growing feeling of discomfort. A queer heaviness hung in the air, that had been so light and sunny a moment before, and she found herself searching her surroundings for the cause. "Do you feel it, Mari?"
        The intensity was growing now, and Katy breathed faster to compensate for the density of the air: inhaling in short, sharp breaths. The sense of oppression was growing stronger, and Mari, coming out of her absorption with the fairies, and the winged horses, began to realise something was amiss, and looked at her strangely. "Katy?" she said.
        Katy didn't answer. The compaction of the atmosphere was restricting her senses - to a plane of reality beyond the forest, the shrubbery, her friend at her side. The world was unaltered, yet not the same - a pitch of sound, a sense of movement, a recognition of being that had not yet formed was patterned on the thickened stillness of busy air.
        Katy suddenly became aware of other activity - a disruption of that eerie plane of being that she had briefly visited - and in a shocking moment of recognition, she realised that Mari was shaking her, shouting at her. As her eyes cleared, and she returned to trees, fairies, and the late summer day, it was as though a dam broke, somewhere in the atmosphere, and all hell broke loose. An icy torrent of wind, at odds with the laws of nature, exploded into the confines of their forest surroundings, with the strength of a hurricane. Mari's and Katy's screams were lost in the mix of a dozen others, as the torturous avalanche of pressure dragged humans, fairies, flying horses, cat-beast, and wongnits, sweeping them down and under a stand of trees whose emptiness had held no interest for the dimensional travellers - where ribbons of light laced in arcing swathes, and the sparkling of the portal between worlds formed a focal point for those able to see it.
        The swift passage of the oddly-assorted victims caused them to spin and swirl - mingling flashes of luminescent white with the sharp spark of fairy wings, green skin with the furred blur of a tumbling wongnit. The inexorable force, that had entrapped them so firmly, now cast them like so much rubbish underneath the stark white trees - and through the brilliant lights of the multi-coloured gate. The clap of wind emitted a high-pitched whine as it pounded the portal, to cease just as it would have entered the gate. The sudden reversal of pressure, as the occupants were dumped from one world to the next, left more than one creature gasping. The trail of their passage was littered with leaves and branches, small shrubs and grass clumps - in addition to the tattered, bewildered, and now abandoned - insects, birds, and small mammals, of the world they'd just left behind.
*
        Within the soil, beneath the trees who'd just been stripped of their inhabitants - earthly or otherwise - a fungal spore swelled. The imbibement of moisture from its surroundings was triggered by some impulse: a change in pressure, a compression of its being in the great thunderclap of movement. The moisture allowed it, in the way of its kind, to take advantage of the environment in which it now resided. A germ tube emerged, snaking its way along as it grew, leaching soil-bound nutrients and drawing them through its cell wall, and then across its cell membrane into its cytoplasm. The nutrients it sought, and absorbed most readily, were sugars. It followed the gradient - which, to this creature, was as obvious as a broad river spilling out of its headwaters - of sugars to the source: a tall, healthy, broad-leafed tree, whose roots exuded nutrients during their interactions with the soil.
        As the fungus tapped the life of this planet, so it grew, entering the tree to traverse its tissues with side-shoots and branchlets of its own, that furrowed deep ravines into the rich heart of the tree's nutrient pathways, to steal away those elements the fungal hypha needed to sustain its being, but could never produce on its own.
        At a certain point, when the balance of nutrients it required, weighed unfavourably against those the tree had left to offer, a new growth pattern began, with a thickening of tissues, followed by the emergence of aerial branched plantlets, heavily-laden with seedlike spores. The blue of the spores echoed that of the skies, as they were explosively released, to sift down through the forest. These spores, nurtured on the products of this world, germinated rapidly, unlike their predecessor. Their widely-dispersed pattern could soon be detected - on leaves, branches, and any remaining forest refuse - as they silently grew, consumed, and reproduced: expanding their colonial claims outward through their defenceless victims.
*
        Thyme, by virtue of flight, was the first one out the door. He circled, confused - trying to determine what had happened. The day was fine - the warmth of this world's sun bringing out rich colours and scents. The others had been in the forest, playing in the trees. His subconscious had registered this as part of the ever-present background "noise" that awareness such as his must constantly filter, in order to function in the present - in order to act himself, rather than just succumb to the danger of living vicariously, through the sensing of others. But now, there were no others - only emptiness. He should be able to focus on them - especially the fairies - especially Lily and his father.
        Peter and Trevor raced out of the house, leaping off the porch to look at Thyme for information, expecting his more highly-developed senses to deny what their own were telling them. "Where are they, Thyme?" Peter asked urgently.
        The fairy's confusion mirrored his own. "I do not know, Peter Trevick. But they are no longer here -"
        "That's impossible!" Trevor interrupted. "There must be something blocking our senses. I say we go have a look. Even if they went for a walk or something, they couldn't have gone far." He started jogging along the path, looking for clues, and neither asked him which two he was concentrating on.
        As Peter followed, he yelled to Thyme, asking simply, "Lily? Aristi?" Thyme shook his head over two of the people who meant the most in his life, but said nothing. As Trevor scanned the ground, and the road ahead, for some indication of which direction Mari and Katy had headed, Thyme flew swiftly to the trees, to skim through in a rapid search. Peter, looking out across the countryside, spotted the swath of litter and debris - some of it moving - as the small animals who'd been carried along in the wake of the wind now scurried to safety. He grabbed Trevor's arm, pointing, and Trevor glanced quickly at him, his own face serious, as they raced over the uneven ground.
        Peter looked back at the forest, and concentrated briefly to summon the fairy. His trained eyes noted how the damage began at the trees, then formed a huge trail down toward the place where the gate was located. Thyme, coming from the forest, and seeing Peter's gestures, needed no further explanations. He raced ahead of them, moving swiftly in the direction of the gate.
***

Chapter Two


        The beings of Thyme's world were swiftly jettisoned into the marshy softness of boggy terrain, causing swirls of mist to spiral upwards into the cool air. Katherine Ryder quickly followed, having travelled the portal before; seasoning her so her passage was fairly rapid, and leaving her with only a slight headache to mark her passing. She arose cautiously, uncertain what to expect, and listened for the sounds of Mari's arrival, which she knew were soon to come.
        Mari smacked into the soft wet ground, that stunk of marsh mud, the smell of it adding to the nauseating discomfort of her first journey through the gate. She lay unhappily on the clammy ground, nursing her headache and wishing the ground didn't stink so damned much. "It'll pass," Katy whispered, uncertain of the wisdom of using a louder voice in this place. She stayed with Mari, aware of the fear integral to those first few moments of helplessness, when the unknown lurked so glaringly in every direction, and which the new traveller lacked momentary ability to combat.
        When Mari stirred, lifting herself to a sitting position, Katy left her, to check on the others. She found Aristi sodden and mud-coated, his eyes flashing red tinges in his annoyance, and she was amazed at how much he resembled Thyme in his rebel mode. A smile quirked her lips, but she quickly suppressed it, sensing that the older fairy was also the source of at least some of his son's hot temper, and would hardly appreciate a comparison to Thyme's wild side right now.
        Mari came up beside her, and caught sight of Aristi herself. She was startled out of an involuntary "Oh, God!" as she saw the similarity to his son.
        Katy had to turn away - fighting for control over the mirth that threatened to explode at Aristi's huffy look. She murmured to Mari, "And with all that marsh mud coating him, I'll bet he even smells like his son!"
        Lily flew up to them then, drawn by the laughter they were fighting to conceal. Hiding behind the two humans, she allowed herself a small grin. "It is amazing, is it not?" Her eyes danced, but her voice grew serious. "He is very angry with you. He feels he has been forced from your world -"
        "Evicted?"
        Lily nodded.
        Katy turned to Aristi. She told him formally, "Aristi, if you were banished from our world, then so, indeed, were we. I will not accept your anger." She stood staunchly before him, having come to realise over the past several days that this fairy appreciated a show of strength. Lily fluttered anxiously nearby, and Mari looked at Katy in surprise.
        Aristi flew forward, to tweak one of her muddy locks, his eyes no longer glowing red. Smiling, he said to her, "Very well, Katherine Ryder. But -" as a frown darkened his face, "- why were you laughing? Is my appearance so amusing to you, then?"
        Katy decided honesty was her best defence. "Aristi, when you're scruffy and dirty like that, you're very much like -"
        "- my son?" The fairy grinned. "Are you trying to insult me, Katherine?" he inquired, even as Lily flared in defiance of the mocking note in his voice. Aristi looked at Lily, pleased that she resented this criticism of his son, but he was answered by Katy.
        She said seriously to him, "If I've compared you with Thyme, Aristi, then you should feel fortunate. For, even at his dingy worst, I count Thyme as my friend. If you're insulted by comparison with him, I think it must be because the balance is disparaging to you."
        Aristi, unexpectedly, laughed. "Cool the red in your eyes, Katherine. The gold is much more appealing. I am glad to see that my son has inspired such loyalty in his friends." He came closer to the three of them. "I was such as he in my youth. I wished him to be spared the trouble and hostility created in following the dictates of his temper, rather than his head. But -" he sighed, giving Lily a warm smile, "perhaps the dictates of his heart will teach him to combine the two."
        Mari had been prudently quiet during the brief exchange, realising that Katy's and Lily's tempers would be more than a match for Aristi's. Now, she cleared her throat, to interrupt - seeing all this as secondary to the more important issue of where they were and - as her hands attempted, somewhat unsuccessfully, to discreetly cover her nakedness - whether it was safe. As a first-time dimensional traveller, she felt terribly uncertain and more than a little frightened of the unknowns in this place, and was surprised that Katy didn't feel the same. She supposed that Katy's journeys - into the Sylybin world - had been so frightening that this must seem like a casual jaunt. But Mari - who loved mystery as long as it could be expected to follow some type of logical framework - knew that the natural laws she accepted did not apply here. She looked off into the mist, jumping when a nearby tree suddenly burst into flame.
        The others jumped, too. But Katy's comment, "How incredibly beautiful!" was hardly the appropriate reaction in Mari's mind.
        "For God's sake, Katy! We don't even know where we are! How can you stand there admiring the scenery!" she snapped.
        Aristi looked at her, and she shifted her arms to achieve better concealment of her physical attributes. "This is your first spanning of dimensions?" he inquired kindly.
        She nodded miserably. Zylon came up behind her then, soundless in the muck, to nuzzle her back with his horselike head. She jumped, emitting a small shriek. Immediately embarrassed by this weak display, she buried her face in the esquior's neck, and he nuzzled her again to reassure her.
        Katy put a comforting arm across Mari's shoulders. Katy's enthusiasm was like the twanging of an off-key violin string against Mari's nerve endings, but she nevertheless appreciated her friend's gesture.
        "What is this place?" Katy asked excitedly. "Have you been here before?"
        Lily shook her head. "I do not know, Katherine, but it is, as you have said, very beautiful."
        Katy turned to Aristi. "Do you know where we are? Are there any dangers?" she added, remembering her time in the Sylybin world. "Any hazards we need to watch for?"
        Aristi looked momentarily uncomfortable. There were rumours that some fairies had ventured here, to fulfil a need. Aristi's aura took on a slight blush as he recalled the reason. The problem had never been his: to admit knowledge might, indeed, indicate some personal concern. He could not recollect any specific hazards associated with a visit, but, then, a visit here was never followed by much discussion. Generally, sly sniggers were the only reference.
        He considered hinting at the possibilities to the many beings now entrusted to his guidance, then decided against it. Any problems that might arise, as a result of this "visit" would occur after they'd returned home. Certainly not something to mention now: not when they'd been stranded here. There would be plenty of time to discuss these matters with his fairies later.
        Mari fidgeted, and Aristi realised she and Katy were still waiting for his answer. He flared brightly, then cooled his aura. He could detect nothing untoward. Of the life forms revealed to his senses, none held the sensory patterns he associated with predators.
        The fairy relaxed, his self-assurance coming to the fore. Surely, any hazards worth worrying about would be revealed to his senses far enough in advance for all to avoid them. Aristi smiled at Mari's agitated shuffling. "I sense nothing that could endanger either fairies or esquiors," he said.

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        Melpis came up then, her hands full of mud. For one who enjoyed making splatty mudballs, this, indeed, was paradise. "What about wongnits, cat-beasts, and humans?" Katy pushed.
        Aristi had a bit of devilry in his eyes now. Staring at the wongnit disgustedly, he admitted, "There should be no problem for Cyrnol or the wongnits, either."
        "And humans?" Katy emphasised it for Mari's benefit.
        "Well," Aristi stalled, and Katy knew he was enjoying Mari's discomfiture. Mari shifted uncomfortably, eyes slightly wild as she searched the swirling fog. In answer, Aristi called to her. "Mari Sullivan!" She looked at him quickly, afraid to take her glance from her surroundings for too long. "Confine your thoughts to the real, and the now, instead of the 'what could be'. There is not much here to fear."
        Mari nodded, slightly ashamed of her nervousness. Shifting her concentration, she looked around for something to conceal her body, so she could free her hands.
        Katy giggled. "Mari," she said softly, "for heaven's sake! You're a doctor!"
        "That," Mari answered grouchily, "helps me ignore your nakedness. It doesn't help me ignore my own."
        "Just think of yourself as dressed in mud. Though," she glanced at Mari, smiling, "you've wiped some of it off in your efforts to conceal yourself. Here -" she stooped down, snatching a large mud ball that made Melpis eye her in admiration, "- have some more!" Laughing, she chucked it at Mari, splatting mud down her front.
        Mari, annoyed, snapped at Katy. "Not funny. I hardly think this is the time for juvenile behaviour, Katy. We don't even know where we are or how we got here."
        "You're right, Mari," Katy said, attempting to look contrite, but the lights glittering in her eyes gave her away. As she turned back toward Aristi, she shot a grin at Mari, who was still frowning. "Don't look now, Mar, but I think it worked. You've got your hands on your hips now instead of trying to cover everything else." To the fairy, she asked, "Aristi, how did we get here? When we went through the gate, I was terrified we'd end up in the Shimmer's gullet."
        The fairy had been enjoying the interplay between the two humans. Now, his face grew serious. "We were banished through the other side of the gate - the portal that leads to this place." He looked around at the densely swirling fog, topped by the cool clarity of the darkening sky - growing lighter from the effects of the triple moons. "I have never been here before," he emphasised, "but it has been visited by my people."
        "And our return?" Mari asked the question softly, wanting some reassurance. The dense fog reminded Mari of too many horror movies she'd seen, where some unknown attacked out of the invisibility provided by the white mass.
        Aristi smiled, sensing the keenness of her worry, and how she was battling to appear as casual as the others. "Mari Sullivan, the return to your homeland will, indeed, require some peril." Mari's eyes widened. "These channels between worlds are seldom direct, but -" he came forward to hover near her face, "- it is enough, is it not, that they exist?" The glow in his eyes was kind. "The joining of our worlds offers us much, I think."
        Mari looked at Lily's bright aura, the bouncing of a wongnit head through the fog as Deron wrestled with Melpis, Symmerley's eyes meeting hers across the distance. Katy slipped a hand into hers, squeezing firmly, before releasing it. Whatever they encountered, they'd all be in it together. Mari squared her shoulders, and her smile this time held no artifice, no camouflage to mask her fears. "Yes, Aristi, more than I could ever have imagined," she replied. Her smile faded as she thought of their arrival here. "But, what I don't understand, is why we're here. And," she said, remembering Katy's strangeness beforehand, "what happened to you, Katy?"
        "To me?" Katy looked confused.
        "Yes. Don't you remember?" Katy shook her head. It was her turn to feel uncomfortable. All the others were watching her now. Even the wongnits, sensing something of interest occurring, edged closer to listen. Mari said to her, "Tell me what happened when we left the house -"
        "I followed you, because I thought you might want company -" Katy glanced around at the group, not wanting to say more in front of the others. Mari smiled her appreciation. "I remember, I was looking out, across the tall grass -" Katy's voice dwindled to silence.
        Mari put her hands on Katy's shoulders, as she had when she'd tried to shake her back to awareness. "Do you remember this? My shaking you?"
        Katy nodded, her eyes sparkling now with multi-coloured tones that darted in amongst pulsing gold. Aristi came forward, asking, "What was it, Katherine? What did you see?"
        The memory came back, and Katy sought for words to share it with the others. "It was as if something had been superimposed on the present." She hesitated. "Some part of me recognised that it was still sunny outside, but all I could see was a kind of cold darkness." She gave an involuntary shudder. "There were hints of movement I couldn't quite see - sounds I couldn't quite hear -" She looked around at the others, frustrated at her inability to make them understand. "I could feel a thickness in the air - a pressure. The air was so heavy, that I couldn't breathe -" She lowered her eyes, feeling foolish. "That was when I realised Mari was shaking me. And then," she waved her hand to indicate their surroundings, "we were all picked up and tossed here." She looked embarrassed. Lily, sensing this, said nothing, but settled on to her shoulder, her aura warming Katy, making her feel less ill at ease.
        It was Mari's turn to offer Katy's hand a quick squeeze of reassurance. She smiled at her. "You were wearing what my grandmother used to call a 'fey' look, Katy." Mari turned to Aristi. "Didn't you sense anything? Have any warning?" Seeing the fairy start to don his huffy look once more, she altered her approach. "You're so much more highly attuned to your surroundings than we are, Aristi."
        When the fairy shook his head, Katy asked, almost desperately, "You felt nothing? What about the other fairies?" She looked then to the esquiors, and the great purple cat-beast, but Symmerley shook his head, while Cyrnol merely closed his glowing eyes. Katy even glanced at the wongnits, who'd returned to writhing around in the fog, then realised that was a hopeless line of inquiry. She sighed, and asked Aristi, "Why me?"
        "Fairies are attuned to creatures from many worlds, Katherine. Perhaps this was a natural event, such as a great wind or storm, that occasionally rocks your world?"
        Mari nodded excitedly. "A small tornado, Katy. What you sensed was the pressure change happening, right before the wind started."
        Katy thought about it, her face brightening at this explanation. Then, she sobered, as she remembered her feelings directly before the wind had hit. "It's just -" she hesitated, uncertain how to say it, "- there was something more - it was as though there were shadows, voices -" She shrugged, unwillingly to say more. I should have let the weather explanation stand, she thought. Looking at the group, she noted that all the fairies, and most of the esquiors, had moved much closer - to listen in on their conversation. She noted, unhappily, the derisive looks on several faces. They think I'm just another crazy human, caught up in - the humour of this situation broke in, as she realised where her thoughts were taking her - "caught up in fairy tales". Her smile broke out, as she looked at the unusual company.
        Aristi was happy to see the smile, but realised his next words could well cause this human unhappiness. However, she must be warned. "Katherine -" She turned his way, the smile still lingering in her eyes. "There is another explanation." Katy tensed. The fairy continued softly, "Whatever force sent us this way, plucked us from your world, to toss us out, as refuse. We are all here -" He glanced around, noting that all who had entered the human dimension, save Thyme, were accounted for.
        Mari understood what he was trying to say. "In other words, if a tornado came through, you'd expect it to be less selective: for some of your people to be left behind." He nodded. "But, Aristi, if this was just a freak storm, it may have started at the trees where you were playing -" she saw the annoyed look on his face, and changed the words, "- where you were exploring, then caught us up as it swept the rest of the way downhill."
        It was Katy who interrupted. "It wasn't a storm," she said miserably. "I don't know what it was, but it wasn't a tornado. It - it was too alive for that."
        Aristi nodded, and Lily looked frightened. "I think, perhaps, you are right, Katherine." He flew closer to the human, wanting her to look at him. "But your term 'alive' might not be the correct one, Katy Ryder." He chucked her under the chin, forcing her to raise her head from where she'd lowered it in her embarrassment. "Fairies are able to sense living entities, Human. I think the being that did this -" his arm swept the group, "- was powerful, but no longer among the creatures that walk your Earth."
        Katy's eyes pulsed in multi-coloured hues once more as the fairy's words allowed her to acknowledge a thought that had been lurking in her subconscious. Now, she spoke with certainty, and not a little fear. "It evicted us," she said quietly. "It wanted us gone, so that we couldn't stop it."
        Mari interrupted. "If we're talking ghosts, here, I, personally don't believe in them."
        "And you do believe in fairies, Mari?" Lily chided her gently. "Mari, belief in spirits would make your work very difficult, I think. If I were a healer, I would not like to think of those beings whose life forces had slipped away." She hovered before Mari now, appealing to her reason. "But when you heal, do you not call to some force within the injured being, and when that force has left him, do you not sense an emptiness, as though the force had gone elsewhere?" Mari nodded. "Well, then, is it not sensible to consider that some of these forces remain nearby? This is the way in our world, and for those able to see, it can be a difficult thing, distinguishing the living from the dead."
        This last was too much for Mari to accept. "Surely the dead look different from the living. I'm sorry, Lily, but I just can't believe that something dead could have that much influence over the living - enough to do this -" She indicated the group encircling her.
        Katy's face was serious as she looked back at the glowing gate. "Maybe you're right, Mari, and it was a freak 'natural' happening. But -" she looked unhappy, "- if it was a tornado, then something bizarre triggered it." She murmured softly, "Call it 'fey', if you want, but I just wish it had included all of us -"

*
        "They've been carried through the gate -" Thyme began, but Trevor quickly interrupted.
        "But that means the Shimmer -" Trevor's eyes met Peter's, whose own widened in horror. The two started toward the gate, oblivious to all else, save the urgency of the situation.
        Thyme darted in front of them, causing them to flinch back. "They're not in the Shimmer's gullet, but you two toad tushes will be, if you don't listen!"
        Peter gripped Trevor firmly by the shoulder. He could sense Trev's impatience, that mirrored his own. Only Peter's hold kept Trev from ignoring Thyme's advice.
        "All right, Thyme, but tell us fast!" Peter demanded.
        "They didn't go through the Shimmer side of the gate," Thyme said calmly.
        "Well, that's comforting!" Trevor said sarcastically. "Where the hell are they, then?"
        "In a safe place," Thyme said irritatingly. He gave Trevor a smirk.
        But it was Peter who snatched him from the air, to shove the fairy's face in his own.
        Trevor was amazed. If he'd done that, Thyme would have zapped him silly.
        Peter's voice was calm, but deadly serious. "We -" he inclined his head in Trevor's direction, "- have neither the benefit of your insight, nor your knowledge of the gates, Thyme. We feel as you did a few minutes ago when you were worried about Lily and Aristi. Now, we need to know what's happening. Out with it!"
        Thyme looked slightly remorseful.
        Jeez, he's changed, thought Trevor.
        "The portal leads to a world that has often been visited by fairies," Thyme boasted. He couldn't remember why, so he added, "For its unusual nature."
        "Unusual nature?" Peter asked.
        Thyme ignored the question, since he didn't know the answer, anyway. Instead, he added reassuringly, "I think if anyone had been injured, you, or I, would be aware of it." He grinned. "Therefore, they are safe, and in a location -" the fairy's eyes sparkled, "- best known for its -" he hesitated, not quite certain what to say. He remembered there were rumours about this place, but the rumours were always accompanied by sniggers of snide amusement. As a boy, it had been enough to encourage him to mark this dimension as one he must one day visit. Well, today was the day.
        "Best known for its what?" Peter asked, still worried.
        Thyme thought for a moment, but nothing particular came to mind. However, if other fairies went there, it must be good. He added confidently, "- its scenic wonders."
        "Sounds like a travelogue," Peter muttered.
        Trevor rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Sounds like my kind of place," he said. "Is it romantic, Thyme?" he asked hopefully. "You and I could do with a little help in the romance department."
        Peter had released the fairy, who now buzzed over to pinch Trevor's nose, then dodged away before the human could grab him. Hovering just out of reach, he replied, "Speak for yourself, Worthless. Lily will only be able to resist for so long. Then, she will return the promise I have given her." His voice was confident.
        Trevor, rubbing his sore nose, commented, "We humans don't have a fairy's cockiness," he said sourly. "A race isn't won until you're in the winner's circle."
        Peter had been thinking about what they were saying. "Maybe you can't win because you're not running." Both of his friends looked affronted. "Hey, don't look at me like that! What I mean is, Trevor has the right idea when he talks about needing romance."
        "I'm already romantic!" Trevor protested. "I grab Mari every chance I get." He smiled, thinking about it.
        Peter snorted. "That's horny - not romantic, you fool!"
        "Yeah, you fool!" Thyme echoed.
        Peter turned to him. "And what about you, Thyme? Half the time you're all goo-goo about Lily, and the rest of the time you act like she doesn't even exist. No wonder she doesn't trust you -"
        "Mari seems to like it when I grab her." Trevor was still bothered by what Peter had said.
        "Well, take this situation. What happens when you go through the gate?" Peter asked patiently of his headstrong friend.
        "You get a headache, and feel sick - when you first go through, of course."
        Peter sighed. "What else?"
        Trevor thought about it. Thyme grew impatient, and yanked on his shirt. "Your clothes, Chuckhead."
        "Yeah, that's right." He thought of Mari. "Talk about your scenic wonders! Let's go!" he said excitedly.
        "Trev! How's Mari going to feel?"
        Trevor's face fell. "You're right, Pete. She's going to be embarrassed."
        "Right. And so, in consideration of her, you should ignore it. And maybe even help her find something to cover herself."
        "Jeez, Pete. Talk about embarrassing - how am I going to hide the way I feel?"
        Peter's eyes sparkled. "That's your problem, Trev. I have enough of my own." He chuckled. "This romance business goes beyond that, though. Katy's clued me in on a bunch of things. She's told me it means a lot to know I've been thinking about her, and she gets all weepy - you know, the happy kind - when I bring her little gifts and things, to show that she was on my mind. Or thoughtful gestures - you know, making her a cup of tea or whatever - to show she's special to me. And not pushing her so hard," he said pointedly to Trevor. "I mean, dammit, Trev - you've only known Mari for a few weeks, and you're already asking her to spend her life with you."
        "But she's special, Pete -" Trevor argued.
        "Have you told her that?"
        "What?" Trevor looked bewildered.
        "That she's special. Or did you just expect her to figure it out?"
        "I thought she'd guess it from the way I act toward her."
        Thyme spoke up. "So, females need reassurance. Is that what you're saying, Human?" He looked thoughtful.
        Peter was getting impatient. "You two are dense. It's not just reassurance!" He turned to Trev. "Unless you let her know how special she is, Mari will assume that you come on like that to every girl you meet." Thyme laughed raucously. Peter glared at him. "And you, Thyme, do come on that way to every girl you meet. If Katy did that, I'd never believe she considered me to be special. In fact, I wouldn't trust her at all, and I know I wouldn't want to marry her."
        "All right, Pete. Enough said. I get the idea. Can we go now?"
        Peter grinned. "Yes. I was just worried that Katy would see the way you two clowns acted, and figure all males were the same. She might not realise she's got the superior version."
        "If her version's superior, it's only because she's had longer to work on you. 'Putty in her artistic little hands'," Trevor said sarcastically.
        "More like a weaker mind - more easily influenced," Thyme said to Trevor, mockingly.
        "You guys don't take criticism very well, is all I can say. Are you ready to go?"
        "Sure. After you -" Trevor said with mock politeness.
        Peter gestured graciously to his two friends, determined not to be outdone. "No, my Friends, after you."
        Thyme, impatient, headed for the gate. "Both of you mushheads - after me." He snickered. Trevor and Peter, laughing now, raced for the gate, determined to beat the fairy through.
        The two humans were nearly there, when Peter heard a voice - Katy's. She was calling him - from the woods. He stopped, turning toward the trees just as Trevor and Thyme rushed at the portal. Trevor, already in a dive toward the glowing lights, had a last glimpse of Peter walking away. "Pe - " was all Peter heard before Trevor's voice was lost in the noise of the moving lights.
        Peter looked back at the gate. Had he been mistaken? But then, he heard Katy's voice again - or was it? His brow furrowed. Something was different, but he couldn't figure out what it was. "Katy?" he called out.
        "Here! Come to me!" Strange. Katy had never spoken to him like that -
*
        The blue hyphae wound their way through the forest, growing into favourable areas - with a good food supply - rapidly. Unfavourable sites failed to curb their movement: like a hose carrying water to the scene of a fire, the hyphae merely re-directed nutrients through interconnecting cellular branchlets, supporting their extension through and beyond those areas that might otherwise limit their growth.
        Their feeding was indiscriminate, taking advantage of any living source that entered their path. Their massive and rapid expansion generated tremendous demands for new sources of supply. Plants were not immune, nor were animals. Survival favoured new strategies, and so, like the nematode-trapping fungi - who have developed means of looping and netting their slippery victims - one colony of the blue hyphae became hunters, rapidly overtaking the others in growth, as they nurtured themselves on rich sources of nutrients which the others were unable to access. As is the way with their kind, the joining of tissues interlinked the different colonies, passing on advantages, losing individual successes to the advancement of the whole. Rabbits, mice, rats, and birds fled before the encroaching colonies, distancing themselves from the relentless aggressors. The blue hyphae expanded outward.
***

Chapter Three


        The background roar of the gate momentarily increased. For a moment, it seemed as though some portion of the gate's brilliance had been ejected forth, as a bright shaft of light darted from the gate. Katy, glancing quickly at Lily, was reassured. Her small friend was flushed and excited, her aura tinged lightly pink, so that Katy had no doubt as to the identity of the new arrival. She exchanged a smile with Mari.
        The brilliance of Thyme's flaring light, donned to impress his fellow fairies, created only a momentary stir. It was superseded by an explosive burst of flame, as yet another tree formed a burning pyre against the darkening sky, branches darkly rigid within a yellow-green fire. Thyme's aura dimmed, as he settled down to hover near Lily and Aristi, his own attention drawn by the wondrous incendiary spectacle.
        Trevor rolled out of the gate, pausing only briefly before coming to his feet. "Trev!" He heard the smile in Mari's voice.
        "Jeez, Mari!" After his words with Peter, he felt particularly self-conscious about his nudity, and placed his hands across his front, quickly turning toward Mari to conceal his backside. He sought Mari's face, inadvertently glancing briefly at everything else - then forcing himself to fix his gaze high. But his eyes seemed to have a will of their own. In spite of his good intentions, they kept slipping down to enjoy the scenery. In desperation, certain he was going to blow it with her once again, he averted his eyes, focusing at a point over her right shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked.
        He sensed her amusement. "I'm fine, Trev. How about you?"
        "Oh, fine," he attempted, trying to sound casual. "Some tree, huh?" he commented, nodding his head toward the flaming limbs. His head was all that was free - his hands were fully occupied in trying to conceal himself.
        Mari chuckled, finally understanding what Katy had found so amusing earlier, in her - Mari's - own attitude. "Trev," she said. 'It's okay." He risked a quick glance at her face. She smiled at him. "We're all wearing mud." She stooped down and made a mudball, just as Katy had earlier. "Here, have some!" Laughing, she flung it at him. "It doesn't bear close examination, but if you won't stare at me, I promise not to stare at you."
        He stooped down quickly, scooping up mud and applying it where it would do the most good. Then, he took a look at her. "Oh, Mari!" he groaned, averting his eyes once more. Turning away, he walked over to the gate. "I think I'll just wait here for Peter," he announced somewhat desperately.
        Katy had left them alone while they worked things out. "Where is Peter, Trevor?" she asked. "Didn't he come with you?"
        Thyme had been busy mingling his aura with Lily's, under the guise of staring at the burning tree. He was enjoying the sensation of being with her, suddenly aware of how temporary this could be if she continued to refuse him. At Katy's words, however, he suddenly realised that the other human was missing. He flew over to Trevor. "Didn't Peter come with you, Human?"
        Trevor shook his head. "We were going through the gate when he turned away. It was weird -"
        "What?" Katy asked impatiently.
        "Well, as I was running toward the gate, I thought - for just a moment - that I heard your voice, Katy." He looked at her. "I'll bet that's what Peter heard, too. I was too close to the gate, and I couldn't stop," he admitted sheepishly. "I yelled to Peter, but I don't think he heard me."
        Katy felt a small frisson of fear. She looked to Aristi. He shook his head, lacking the insight to reassure her.
        "I don't like it. We're all here. Who would be calling him?"
        Trevor shook his head, his expression worried. "I just don't know, Katy. Maybe I should go back and look for him."
        Aristi stopped him, as he took a step toward the gate. "That way does not return you to your world, Human."
        Trevor, disgusted now, commented, "Why do these damn gates have to be so mixed-up? And why can't you fairies figure out my name is Trevor, not just 'Human'?"
        Aristi's voice was long-sufferingly patient. "It is not the gates which are confused, Trevor-not-just-Human, but some of those who traverse them."
*
        Peter stopped, uncertain. He'd heard nothing for several minutes now, even though he'd called out to Katy several times. Suddenly, Katy's voice was with him - in his head. My Love - and there was an inscrolling of hearts and flowers in the message - I'm with Trevor. Are you coming? I miss you -
        Peter grinned. Feeling as though his head had suddenly cleared, he turned and jogged toward the glowing portal. Once more, a voice seemed to call out to him, travelling across the tops of the tall grass, creating a wave of movement as it swept in his direction. Distracted, his footsteps slowed, and he started to turn, curious.
*
        Thyme urged Katy to call Peter again. "There is some danger, Katherine, that a part of Peter recognises, even though his conscious being is unaware -" Thyme's words were formal, his concentration caught up in focusing on Peter.
        Katy nodded, closing her eyes to send a surge of feeling winging toward the person who meant the most to her - whichever world she was in. Peter! Her message had a note of urgency to it. I need you! Please hurry!
*
        The last did it. Peter hesitated no longer. A ribbon of red light arched out to touch him briefly, as he added a new firmness to his step. He sped down and through the gilt and silver radiance of the moving lights, eager to seek the warmth of Katy's arms. As he vanished into the portal, a flurry of movement swept the hillside, forming a swathe as it flattened grass culms, bending the blades that were browning in the late summer heat. It ended at the gate, in a swirling of dust, that seethed restlessly at the dry earth underneath the trees.
*
        There was one who'd failed to enter the gate with the others. Mortimer, tongue lolling, had been out on one of his jaunts around the property, which his enhanced senses rendered so exciting. Peter and Katy had been trying to curb some of his enthusiasm, at least as far as chasing other animals, or roaming off the property, went, but Morty was forgetful, and tended to get lost in his canine pursuits. His new awareness of all kinds of scurrying forms (and today, there'd been an abundance of scurrying forms), and insidious scents, were too much for a dog to ignore. Mortimer found it much easier to ignore what his humans wanted, than the lure of his own nose.
        Thus it was that Mortimer, ignorant and happy, strolled up to the front door. He did his scratch, and then his whine, but his humans didn't answer. After persisting in his scratching (something that usually brought his people hot-footing it to the door), he waited a bit, tilting his head, finally absorbing what his intuition had been trying to tell him: his people weren't at home.
        He turned to look at the chair sitting on the porch. Damaged now, since Mortimer had tugged it out across the yard, it had been left on the porch for his use - a clever ploy by the humans to encourage him to stay out of the lounge. What his people didn't realise, was that Morty didn't trust that chair any longer. He growled at it now, then barked firmly at it to keep it in its place - his hazy memory focused on the way that chair had turned on him, and chasing him out of the house.
        Mortimer strolled around to Peter's window, which had been thoughtfully left partially open. He jumped, squeezing himself through the small opening in a much-practiced fashion, then bounced across the bed and hopped through the hall to the lounge. There, he made himself comfy on the sofa, preferring its ripped solidity to his confused memories of travelling chairs. He burrowed into the cushions to satisfy a particularly itchy spot along his spine.
        He'd closed his eyes to sleep, when a sudden cold invaded the room. Mortimer's long hair stood on end, and he loosed a growl of warning to the air. The sunny light, that had been warming his sleeping spot, vanished, as a darkness filled the room - beginning at the ceiling and sweeping downward in a dense mist. The vapour coalesced, writhing and swirling as its density increased. Mortimer watched, whining now, as the dark form gathered substance: pulling matter from its surroundings, bit by bit, to resolve itself into its chosen form. Morty cowered, slinking from the sofa, to run in terror from the room. He raced across the hall, never hesitating in his flight, electing to go through the glass window, rather than risk the delay in squeezing underneath.
        Once outside, in the sunny light, the dog paused, then vigorously shook himself to fling off the shards of glass. He lifted his ears, listening, to the thudding and smacking sounds of Peter's and Katy's belongings being flung around the lounge. Then, his sigh half a whine, he slunk across the yard, and climbed up onto one of the large mounds out front, where he hid behind a big stone block. He hoped that there only the sun would find him, until some of his friends came home.
*
        Katy was waiting by the gate - certain, now, that Peter was near at hand. Her smile widened as he rolled out, landing with a somersault on to the mucky ground. She put out a hand, to help him to his feet, and he stood up quickly, taking her in his arms. "What was the emergency, Katy-my-love?" he whispered in her ear.
        "Just worried about you, Peter," she replied, enjoying the warmth of his arms.
        He lifted his eyes, to look at Trevor and Mari, who were discreetly gazing in another direction; then at the fairies, who were staring directly at them. He gave a smirk at Thyme over Katy's shoulder, and a little wave of his fingers to Aristi and Lily, then turned away, one arm around Katy. "No more hugging like that, Katy." He grinned. "You're playing havoc with my dignity."
        She smiled back. "I didn't know you had any," she said. She saw him looking around, searching for some trappings of this world to use as a covering. She indicated one of the trees. "You could use a couple of those branches -" she began, then laughed as the tree burst into flames, and Peter's eyes widened in surprise. "But, you might get a heat rash."
        "Hey," he said, giving her a quick perusal, "I'm not the only one who needs covering. Look at you."
        "I," she said calmly, "consider myself adequately dressed in mud."
        "Adequate to whom?" he asked sarcastically. "You can see every -"
        She put muddy fingers over his lips. "Shush! It's the best we can do, Peter. Just make a point of not looking. You're going to make Mari feel uncomfortable all over again," she whispered.
        "It's not Mari I'm worried about -" he began, but then he saw a hint of red in Katy's eyes. Chuckling, he said to her, "All right, mud it'll be. Shall I do it, or will you?" he asked wickedly.
        Katy smiled, her annoyance gone. "I don't want to boast, but if I do it, we'll all have to wait on your dignity again." She moved closer, to whisper, "Trevor's having a terrible time. Can you get him thinking about something besides not looking at Mari? He's trying so hard to avoid looking that he's acting like a buffoon."
        "How can you tell?" Peter asked. "That he's acting like a buffoon, I mean?"
        "I don't know if that's a slur on me, for not being able to tell, or on his usual behaviour. Just look for some mud, Peter Trevick - those flaming branches are starting to look more ideal all the time!"
        As she turned to stomp away, he gave her a quick kiss on her back. "It won't do you any good to stomp - or should I say - splat, Katy. Remember, I can sense how you're feeling."
        She turned and gave him a come-hither smile. "All right, you know-it-all. Just hurry - or I'll take your dignity into my own hands," she replied sweetly.
        He wrapped one arm around her waist, and turned her toward him, to give her a devilish grin. His eyes sparkling, he said, "Flaunt it any more, Katy-my-love, and I may forget we're not alone."
        Enjoying the warmth of him against her, she asked, "Is that a threat, Mr. Trevick? Because, if it is -" she stared down at him pointedly, initiating a response that made him hide behind her, "- it's definitely one I can live with." Katy grinned at him and stepped away.
        Peter stooped quickly and grabbed a heavy handful of mud, which he promptly flung at her retreating backside. As she spun back toward him, he gave her a look of innocent appeal. "You missed a spot, Katy." He was still chuckling as he finished camouflaging himself. Knowing that, with Katy around, his disguise would only go so far, he muttered, "And women complain about their problems."
*
        The forest was dying. Exhausted of their nutrients, the trees remained in place only through the rigidity of their structure: artificial silhouettes of what was once the foundation of a large ecosystem. Now, decorated as they were with brilliant blue hyphae and spores, they glimmered garishly, resembling their smaller counterparts that, in a few months, would be lopped off and decorated in a gaiety of Christmas fervour.
        Beneath the trees, small creatures who had failed to escape the encroaching colony lay cheerlessly entwined in nets of blue. Fallen in sleep, anaesthetised to death, their mummified remains lay passively amidst the plant debris.
        The colony, stifled by its own demands for nutrients, could expand only minimally onto the grassy slopes. Huge amounts of its remaining nutrients were poured into reproductive structures, which flung spores to the wind. All to ensure the reproductive success of this creature - the long-term survival of one who had, in similar fashion, embarked upon its travels from a single spore.
        Then, the hyphae of the colony thickened, retaining moisture; becoming dormant, quiescent. Thus, they would remain, until the appearance of a trigger - living entities, the return of vegetation, the growth of a seedling tree - that could activate them once again.
        The spores drifted away - one landing on the back of a fleeing rabbit. The swiftly-moving rodent was lucky, in that his speed outpaced the germination of the spore caught in his fur. He raced across the grassy hills, only stopping, exhausted, when he reached a shady patch of shrubbery. The spore was dislodged on to a low-hanging branch, as the rabbit dodged underneath and away. The cycle began again.
*
        Thyme flew over, skimming irreverently across the mud layer on Peter's backside. "I don't know why you asses waste so much time on your asses." He snickered.
        Peter patiently reapplied a coating of mud, then joined the others. "How did you all get here, anyway?"
        Trevor interrupted, asking him, "First, what took you so long to join us?"
        Peter looked at Katy. "I could swear I heard you calling me, Katy. From the woods. It was somebody yelling, anyway. Maybe I just assumed it was your voice because I was looking for you."
        Trevor shook his head. "No, I heard it too, Pete. And I could have sworn it was you, Katy - but I was already running for the gate, and I couldn't stop in time."
        "Well, it wasn't me," Katy said, perplexed. "I hope some other woman isn't having a problem or something."
        "No, it wasn't like that, Katy-my-love. Whoever it was, knew my name."
        "Do you think it could be someone from Mader's group?" Mari asked, worried.
        "No, Mari Sullivan." Aristi waved a hand at his son. "Thyme would have sensed the presence of another human in the area - in time to warn his friends. No, I believe the voice that called to Peter was -"
        "No!" Mari said firmly. "I refuse to believe it! And even talking about it can induce the frame of mind that would make us prone to seeing things that aren't there -"
        Trevor, though surprised at her outburst, took her hand in his, holding it against his warm chest. "Could someone explain what's going on, please?"
        Aristi smiled as Mari took charge. "Katy had a vision or something, just as a small tornado came through and swept us all through the gate. Then, you two came through, and Peter started hearing voices - probably a neighbour calling a dog or something - "
        Katy caught Peter's eyes. "Mortimer!" she said. "I forgot all about him! Do you think he'll be okay on his own?"
        "How long will it be before we return, Aristi?"
        "Two, perhaps three, of your days -"
        "I hope he'll have enough to eat -" began Peter.
        Katy interrupted. "I left a small pile of burnt crispies for him by that chair on the front porch."
        Trevor added, "And if he's still hungry, I put a handful by the back steps."
        Mari smiled. "Plus the burnt bits I put just under the edge of the foundation."
        "And the bowlful I gave him down by the tool shed." Grinning, Peter commented, "That dog's been eating better than I have!"
        Trevor nudged him. "How did you know we couldn't just turn around and go back through this gate?"
        "You mean, why'd I ask Aristi how long we'd be away?"
        Trevor nodded.
        "Because, Trev, things are seldom as simple as they seem. If Katy had been able to come back through, she'd have done that instead of just calling me." He looked pleased at his logic. Then, seeing Trevor's frustrated look, he whispered, "Actually, I didn't think of all that until Aristi told me how long it would take, Trev. Then, everything clicked into place. I was thinking more along the lines of how long it would take to explore our surroundings." He glanced around. "Now, though, you don't have to worry about your own deductive shortcomings." He grinned and elbowed Trevor in the ribs. "I've made a good impression on the fairies. They'll think all humans are brilliant."

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        "Oh, yeah!" came a voice at his ear. While his father watched disapprovingly, Thyme snatched two good-sized chunks of Peter's hair, smearing them with mud so they stood straight up on his head, like donkey's ears. Peter bore the fairy's abuse patiently, refusing to belittle himself in front of this impressive group by struggling. "Bray, you jackass!" Thyme snorted.
        Peter turned to look at Thyme, a look of forbearance on his face. Katy, for Peter's sake, quickly averted her eyes. Mari couldn't help herself - she looked at Peter's serious expression and started laughing. When his look became indignant, it only made things worse. Aristi, trying to hold on to his annoyance, lost it in the uproar as Katy tried to help Peter smooth down his donkey ears. "I'm sorry, Peter," Katy said meekly, the sparkles in her eyes giving her away, "but this seems to be particularly sticky mud -" Any which way she tried to smooth his hair, it stuck out. She finally had it to stick it straight down, by plastering it to the sides of his head. "I'm sorry, Peter," she said again, succumbing to the hilarity that was bubbling up inside; sitting down in the mist so that he couldn't see her laughing.
        "Don't try to hide it, Katy," he said. "I can feel you laughing."
        "Don't let it bother you, Pete," Trevor managed to get out, in-between great whoops of laughter. His eyes were streaming, and unknowingly, he coated his face liberally with mud as he tried to wipe them, "I, for one, already knew that you're all bray, and no brawn."

***

Chapter Four


        Henry wiped a small speck off his gleaming motorcycle. He tied on his bandanna, looked up at the clear blue sky, and made a decision. He'd found a note in his letterbox a few weeks before, telling him that the plant guy, Peter Trevick, wouldn't need his services as gardener for a while. A "while" was one of those nebulous time things - open to interpretation. And Henry was trying to interpret it to suit himself. Although some of the grass was browning off at this time of year, there'd been heavy rain a few weeks back, and he - Henry - had never finished the mowing on that back section. He could picture the height of the grass about now - some of it would be going to seed. The longer the grass, the more difficult it would be to mow next time, and "difficult" didn't suit Henry at all.
        He straddled his bike, thinking about the strange types who'd moved in. He'd liked Trevick right off - but his girlfriend was a nutter. Henry wasn't one to listen to gossip, and the neighbourhood hotline tended to pass him by. But, his contact with Trevick had made him a possible source of information, and he'd been the unwilling recipient of a lot of slyly revealed chatter, in hopes that he'd spill some of his own secreted knowledge.
        It hadn't worked. Henry kept himself to himself. Little did he know that his reticence, among the neighbours, somehow linked him up with the group living at Peter's mini-farm right now.
        And there was a "group" up there. No one seemed to know, or admit to knowing, what kind of group it was, but all the old rumours about those Trees and haunts and strange creatures had started up again. Henry shook his head. Arseholes! Some people would believe anything. And a lot of those people had to stick their noses in everyone else's business, because they didn't have enough to occupy them in their own lives. Henry knew - they'd been trying to mind his business for years.
        Well, I've been mowing the grass up there for years. He didn't realise what a habit it had become, and he'd had to force himself not to automatically drive up there - John Grisham or Clive Cussler in pocket - to mow. He puckered his brow. It bothered him that he'd become a creature of habit; something about his rebel nature being irked at this evidence of predictability. Disgusted, curious, and annoyed, he pulled the book out of his back pocket, untied his bandanna, and scuffed his way back into his house. He'd go up there soon enough - but sometime when the compulsion of habit wasn't driving him.
*
        Mortimer glanced up at the sky, then back at the house. He crept down the hill on his belly, then edged his way toward the porch. Some small spark of wisdom made him stop at the window, to peek into the lounge. On the wing chair - one of the few things still left standing in the room - was a dark form, nearly solid, but lacking the warmth of life. The Thing turned to stare at the dog. Mortimer cringed back, yelping as though he'd been struck, and leapt off the porch, tail between his legs. He ran, whining to himself, uncertain where to go. Sniffing, he followed Peter's most recent trail, down to the swiftly gyrating lights of the portal between worlds. Turning in a circle, he prepared to curl himself into a snug position to wait.
        Up at the house, a door slammed. And then another. Windows rattled as they were lifted restlessly up and down, and Mortimer heard the distant scraping of a chair across the porch - a sound that caused him to quiver nervously. He looked at the moving lights of the gate, then at the house on the hill, which now seemed to possess a life of its own. He was confused over all the action - fleeing animals, houses that couldn't hold still, lights that moved all over the place. As he watched, there was a whisper of dark movement through the grass. He crouched, whining his desperation, then recoiled backwards with an almighty howl as the Thing approached. His backside made a decision for him - in his efforts to escape the dark being, his posterior inadvertently dodged into the glowing circle. The portal, like an enormous straw, sucked him in and away from the world of his birth. Morty's howl spanned dimensions, lasting until he was jettisoned out, on to Cyrnol's back.
        Cyrnol heard something coming, but his cat dignity had insisted that he take his time in moving out of the way. Suddenly, he was coated in smelly dog: Mortimer had succumbed to a common urge in his fear, and was covered in his own refuse. Cyrnol snarled, thoroughly disgusted - he didn't like this stupid creature at the best of times, and now Mortimer was so excited to see a familiar face that he was eagerly licking the cat-beast's nose, tail enthusiastically sending more disgusting material flying.
        "Jesus, Pete!" Trevor remarked, holding his nose. "What's he been into?"
        Peter patted Morty's head. "I think he chased us through the gate by mistake, and he got so scared he had an accident."
        "If that's an accident, then I'd hate to see an emergency," Thyme commented rudely.
        "Peter, maybe if we coat him in mud, it wouldn't be so bad," Katy suggested.
        Mari looked doubtful. "It'd be better to find some water to wash him or something."
        Mortimer, forgetting the recent terror of his ordeal at the realisation that he was once again among friends, responded enthusiastically. While his humans were wasting time talking, he'd suddenly become aware that this was a place he'd never been before. Letting loose an excited whine of pleasure, Morty raced off through the fog, his trail marked by the swift motion of flaring auras as they shifted to clear out of his odoriferous way.
*
        Vicki Kojan inhaled a warmly-scented portion of the hot summer air, sighing with pleasure over the simple joy of living. She'd come too close to darkness: to departing her corporeal self for the unknown reaches of a bodiless existence. Enjoying the heated sharpness of the summer day, she said softly, "Isn't it amazing?"
        "Yep. Couldn't ask for better." Kelwin Stewart smiled over at her.
        "Oh, I could," Horace Whitney drawled.
        "Really?" Edwin Murphy said, making a fist with an arm that had been withered and flaccid just days before. He placed the fist mockingly under Horace's jaw. "Needing a few more miracles, oh Doubting One? Not satisfied with fairies, monsters, flying horses, and instantaneous cures?"
        "Nope. I need some work. But not just any work, if you know what I mean."
        "You mean you now find our previous employer's methods less than satisfying?" Kelwin smiled. "Monstrous, in fact?"
        Vicki's face turned pale. "Not funny, Kelwin."
        "Uncalled for, Stewart," Ed Murphy suppressed a shudder.
        Kelwin held up his hands in defence. "Hey, look," he said. "All I meant is that people tend to be a product of their environment. And that nightmare place was our -" he waved a hand to encompass their small group, "- environment for too damn long. We're sort of lucky, in a way, that this happened, so we could -" he chuckled, "- see the error of our ways. Who knows, otherwise we might have gone on like that for years." He put friendly arms across Vicki's and Edwin's shoulders. "Think of this as a miraculous opportunity for change."
*
        "I wish I had it with me," Mari looked around at the shimmery fog layer, which reflected back the light thrown out by the multiple moons.
        "Had what?"
        "The healing crystal. I'd just feel more comfortable."
        Trevor shrugged. "It's easy to become reliant on things like that. I prefer to rely on my own wits -"
        "You're in trouble, then," Thyme snickered.
        "As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted," he gave the fairy a nasty look, "rather than depend on magic, maybe we should try to avoid situations where we might need it."
        Behind his back, where Mari couldn't see him, Trevor folded the fingers of his left hand, leaving only his thumb and pinkie exposed. He flapped these like wings. His right hand posing as scissors, he clipped roughly at the thumb "wing". Before Thyme darted away, Trevor heard a sour, "Sadist!" murmured in his ear. Trevor gave Mari a big smile, and took her hand in his.
        Mari looked frustrated. "But look at this place, Trev. I'd like to get out of here - for all of us to get out of here - in one piece."
        "Relax, Mari. We'll stick together -" he chuckled as he held up their joined hands, which had been nearly glued together by the sticky mud, "- and it'll all be fine." A trace of excitement lightened his eyes. "An adventure, Mari."
        She nodded, smiling. "An adventure. I'm glad you're here, Trev," she said softly.
        He raised her muddy hand to his lips. His eyes held a wicked glint as he replied. "So am I." His eyes slipped past her as the movement of fairy auras lighted the landscape. "Mari, look!"
        Lily had been joined by several other fairies, one of whom had a rather startling silver cast to his aura. This one had apparently been watching the humans, for he rather elegantly lifted Lily's small hand to his lips. She smiled, her aura tinged a pale green, and chatted delicately with him.
        Trevor was on the point of calling Thyme's attention to the scene, but sensed it would annoy Mari if he rubbed the fairy's nose in his chosen's defection. The human settled for smiling gleefully, then calling softly to his friend, "Hey, Pete!" Trevor inclined his head in Lily's direction.
        Peter, well acquainted with Thyme's temper, gave a low whistle, and rolled his eyes at Trevor. He gazed around, finally spotting Thyme having a talk with his father - and not a very pleasant one, from the younger fairy's rigid posture.
        "He's gorgeous!" remarked Katy, staring at Lily's silver-aura'd friend. "I'm going to introduce myself," she said to Peter, smiling. He smiled back, realising that Katy hoped her presence would help deter the altercation that was certain to come. He watched her for a moment, admiring her curves and silky walk.
        Trevor came over to stand next to him. "You're a lucky man, Peter."
        Peter put his hand up across Trevor's eyes. "That's right." He made a point of eyeing Mari, who'd just joined Katy.
        "Hey!" Trevor said. "Eyes off!" He looked at Peter. "Deal?"
        "Deal."
        Trevor watched Mari, feeling safe because he knew Mari wasn't aware of it. A blissful expression on his face, he asked Peter, "How the heck do they learn to walk like that?"
        Peter shook his head. "I have a theory about that. Up until puberty, they seem to walk like everyone else, then something happens to their hips." He grinned at Trevor. "To facilitate the survival of the species."
        "It facilitates it all right." Trev checked to make sure the swirling fog layer was still offering him some concealment. "I'm just glad the mist seems bound to persist."
*
        "I have this yen to improve my life." Vicki, slightly embarrassed, said more quietly, "We've seen some things for which there're no explanations. Things that I started discounting before I even left childhood. You know, the only way I'd let myself consider anything as weird as some of those creatures, was to keep this tiny belief in extraterrestrials going - because I could almost justify the existence of some mysteries out there, that I denied here - where I live."
        Kelwin nodded. "Heck, yes! When I ran into those things, and that Trevick guy did his disappearing act, I decided it was a religious experience -"
        "You would!" Horace commented scornfully. Kelwin didn't mind. His new religious ethic included tolerance for less enlightened souls.
        "Well, if that's religion, then the thing Mader turned into was a devil." Edwin looked sick.
        "It wasn't Mader -" Horace began.
        Vicki shook her head. "I know what you're going to say, Horace. You're sure that monster was something they dreamed up in the lab. But, I know now it was Mader. He became that -" she shivered, "- somehow."
        "Okay. Let's drop it. The point is, things have changed. And we're all looking at life differently. But we still need to make a living. Any ideas?"
        Kelwin was adamant. "I refuse to go back to what I was doing. I feel we're destined for better things."
        Vicki paused, wondering if she should mention something that was bothering her. Edwin looked over at her. "Spill it, Vick."
        Her face was puzzled. "How did you know?"
        "There are lots of things I know now that I didn't before." Edwin was deliberately vague.
        "Is this a secret language, or can anyone join in?" Kelwin asked.
        Horace was merely frustrated. "Tell the more ignorant among us what's going on, okay?"
        "Merely, if you guys want to go into investigative work, we won't be working entirely in the dark," Vicki replied. "On any cases we take up, I mean."
         "All right," Horace said drily. "I'll take the bait. Why won't we be as ignorant as any other investigators out there?"
        "Because of the powers of our observations," Edwin replied. "For example, Horace, where did you get those nifty green boxers?"
        "Beg pardon?" Kelwin looked perplexed. "Since when have you been studying Horace's gruts, Ed?"
        "He hasn't." Vicki looked at Edwin, and he nodded. "I'm just glad I'm not the only one. For a while, I thought I was going nuts!"
        "I still do," Horace said. "Think you're going nuts that is. But it looks like you've got company."
        Kelwin started speaking loudly. "I'm doing this," he enunciated slowly and clearly, "so that all those talking in a foreign language can understand me -"
        "Shut up, Kelwin," Horace said, not unkindly. "Yes, I'm wearing boxers that an Irishman, such as yourself, Edwin, would kill for. How did you know?"
        "In the same way that I know Kelwin has a Metallica shirt on under that respectable coat and tie. Clairvoyance," Vicki said calmly.
        Horace snorted. "Clairvoyance, my ass. ESP? You've wigged out, Babe."
        "First of all, I'm not a babe. And I no longer think I've 'wigged out', as you call it. It's just that, when that green woman put me back together, something went wrong. Or -" she chuckled, "- right, depending on how you look at it. I get flashes of insight now, that I didn't get before."
        Horace looked at Edwin. "You, too?" He nodded.
        Kelwin said, "I think I'll be sick."
        This time, all three of the others said, "Shut up, Kelwin."
        Horace shook his head, looking first doubtful, then worried, and - finally - pleased. "I still don't know if I buy that green miracle worker bit -" Vicki opened her mouth to argue. Horace raised his hand. "But it really doesn't matter whether you and Ed and the others recovered on your own, or had help, does it? I mean, it may have been like any other injury, and your bodies just healed."
        Edwin snorted scornfully, but Kelwin grinned. "You're just huffy because your itty-bitty concussion wasn't serious enough to merit a visit from the green lady, Horace," Kelwin said.
        Horace ignored him. "Look, however this 'cure' took place, it does rather give us sort of an investigative edge, doesn't it?" he said.
        This time, when Kelwin spoke, his voice was serious, and they all listened. "If we do this thing," he said firmly, "we don't take on any smut, or government crap, understand?"
        Edwin nodded. "I think we've all had enough of that. And, after seeing what monsters avarice can produce, I think I'd like to stick to cases that help people out."
        Horace agreed. "Monsters come in all sizes. Call me prejudiced, but I'd just like any I might run into, to be of the human persuasion."
*
        As first Katy, and then Mari, approached, the silver fairy paused in his conversation with Lily to appraise them openly. Katy, treating him as she would a male of her own world, ignored the perusal, but smiled, as she spoke to Lily. "I thought I'd ask if you have any ideas about where we're going next, Lily."
        Mari, having worked for so long in an environment where bodies where part of her trade, and overt sexuality was taboo, had more trouble. She kept wishing the fairy's eyes would wander elsewhere. It struck her as amusing, that she, who dealt with the human form, and saw it so frequently, should be almost naive when it came to this kind of thing. I wish he'd keep his small eyes on the person he's talking to, she thought.
        Lily presented her friend with a flourish. "This is Strey Aytaas," she told the humans, smiling. "I am helping him with your language."
        Strey Aytaas inclined his head. His voice was deep, but his accent bore occasional traces of the fluted tones of the fairy tongue. "It was important that I be able to converse with two such -" He turned to Lily and asked her something in fairy. At her words, he nodded, then continued, "- noble examples of your kind." He bowed.
        Katy caught Mari's look, and almost burst out laughing. What a line! Well, I, for one, am going to enjoy this, she thought. "Oh, Strey Aytaas," she returned, "how kind of you to mark our nobility." She reached out and pulled Mari closer. "We should, in such honoured company, make an effort to learn some words of your speech."
        "Alas, oh Fair One, it would be too difficult for your kind -"
        This was too much for Mari. To Katy's, and, especially, Strey Aytaas' surprise, she broke into a short torrent of fairy. The silver fairy drew back, astounded.
        Lily was laughing, the trill of her laughter carrying sweetly through the cooling night air. "Didn't I get it right, Lily?" Mari asked, smiling.
        "Only, Mari Sullivan, if you wished to thank him, tell him no, and ask him for his gift of flight, all at once."
        Katy was enthusiastic, however. "Mari, that was incredible!" She turned swiftly to Lily. "Do you think I could learn some, too?" Her eyes gazed off into the distance, wonder causing them to glow brightly. "There's something so very beautiful in the idea of speaking 'fairy'."
        Mari nodded in agreement. "For humans, it delves into the very core of our traditions and fantasy."
        Strey Aytaas took Lily's hand once more, daring to mingle his aura tentatively with hers, as he spoke to her swiftly in his own tongue. Lily said enthusiastically, "He has offered to help me teach you, in order to learn some of your tongue as well. Is it not wonderful?" A delicate pink rimmed Lily's aura where the other fairy contacted it.
*        
        Thyme had both heard and sensed the joy of Lily's laughter, and left his father abruptly. Growling, his eyes red, he started in her direction. Peter, anticipating this, moved into Thyme's path. "No, Thyme!" he said quietly. The fairy ignored him, so Peter grasped one wing. Thyme zapped him, but Peter held on. "You'll lose her!" he said. Thyme looked at him quickly.
        Trevor had joined them, and he stood there, arms folded. "Peter's right, you know."
        "Listen to her laughter, Thyme." Peter knew it would hurt his small friend, but the fairy had to realise how his own behaviour was pushing Lily away. "There's nothing wrong with that -"
        Thyme glared at him. "Except that I didn't -"
        "Didn't what? Cause it? 'Give her permission'?"
        Thyme interrupted snidely, "You've got to be kidding!"
        Peter ignored him. "Or is it just that she's enjoying herself without you? That's allowed, you know," he said wisely.
        The fairy snorted rudely, and tried to pull away from Peter's grasp. "He's only trying to help, Fairy!" Trevor said firmly.
        "I hardly need the help of a human in getting rid of that creature!" Thyme indicated Strey Aytaas.
        "Thyme," Peter said quietly, "what's Lily feeling right now?"
        The fairy paused, and glanced over at Lily. Her golden curls and smiling face seemed to mock him, but her expression, when she sensed his observation, was anxious. "She doesn't want me to come over there." Thyme spoke in a whisper, but his voice was full of dismay. He looked up at Peter. "She is afraid of me." He was appalled.
        Good! Peter thought. Finally, we're getting through. Trevor nodded at him, then stepped in-between so Lily couldn't see Thyme's upset. She might sense it, but hopefully, they would make him understand before she came charging over here to see what had caused it.
        "All right, Thyme, why doesn't she want you there?"
        Thyme said nastily, "She's afraid I'll spoil the fun she's having with that creep!"
        "Right," Peter replied calmly. "But you care about Lily - love her, don't you?" Thyme nodded. "Then why would you want to spoil her fun? Wouldn't you want her to have a good time with all her friends - you know, enjoy seeing that she's happy?"
        For just a moment, Thyme appeared as Spigot. "If she's going to mingle her aura with that -" His eyes flared red.
        "Cool it, Hot Shot!" Trevor said firmly. Thyme, not believing his ears, glared at him.
        "The point is, Lily's gorgeous," Peter said. Trevor nodded his agreement, while Thyme looked annoyed. "And you're going to have to put up with a lot of people admiring her."
        "And she's not going to be impressed if you come charging in there, sending that silver guy flying. Try a little charm, Fairy - little is probably the operative word - but use what you've got." Trevor smiled.
        "She'd appreciate you more if you didn't make her feel trapped." Peter spoke sincerely, without Trevor's flippancy. "Surprise her, Thyme. She doesn't want you there because she figures you're going to make a scene." The fairy was still wearing a stubborn look. Peter was growing impatient with his belligerence and let his annoyance show. "We all thought you'd make a scene. Didn't you notice how we just happened to be in the way?!" he asked sarcastically.
        "Your problem is, you think you're an expert on everything, Subcreature!"
        "And your problem is, you're so damned predictable that everyone from Lily to the veriest subcreature -" he emphasised, "- can guess just how obnoxious you intend to be!" Peter folded his arms across his chest.
        Predictable! For someone of Thyme's rebel inclinations, predictable was anathema. As much as he hated to acquiesce to the humans' machinations, he couldn't tolerate the idea that Lily and everyone else might know exactly what he was going to do, and - his eyes swept the others of the group - secretly laugh at him. Damn! Damn! Damn!
        He flew back over to his father's side. "Aristi, I need you!" The older fairy raised his eyebrows at his son's imperative tone.
        "What, Thyme? No temper tantrums? Jealous scenes?" Although the words were said in fairy, they didn't sound any nicer than when the humans had spoken. Am I so predictable, then? Thyme thought.
        Aristi smiled, and spoke for the first time without sarcasm. Correctly interpreting his son's look, he answered him, "Only when you are angry - or jealous." His next words were said seriously. "Love is not easy to sustain, my son. It can be the strongest of links between two persons, or as fragile, and temporal, as the moonbeams that dance upon the night. It can be crushed by thoughtlessness, because such is often misinterpreted as something worse, by those who have left themselves open to wounding - whose trust is exposed, allowing them to be abused by the one they hold most dear."
        Thyme looked worried, suddenly concerned that Lily would never believe in him, even if he were to change. His father briefly joined auras with him, commiserating with the worry that knowledge had brought. "Remember, my Son, that no one willingly leaves themselves open to pain. If they do, for a brief period, in an act of trust, then they will bear some scars from their sacrifice." Thyme nodded, but the eyes that met his father's were dimmed. His father nodded. "In love, pain will be mingled with pleasure, which allows us to continue to believe. I think, my Son, that you have brought your Lily much happiness. Go to her now, but be happy with her. Do not make her suffer in your anger."
        Thyme, newly hopeful, reached out and grasped his father's wrist. "Thank you, Aristi."
        Aristi inclined his head toward Peter and Trevor. "Thank your human friends, my Son. They bore your anger to save your arrogance from guiding your steps."
        There was a trace of devilry in the look Thyme flashed at his father. "Oh, I will - some day," he said. "But, for now, it is better if they wonder what I intend." He laughed as he flew off to join Lily and her silvery admirer.
*
        Qualice, on leaving Thyme and the humans, had wandered on in the slow but comforting shadow of his giant friend, Gyris, before setting off for the safety of his home - one of many small split shale dwellings, hidden in the blue shadows of thick bush. He quivered now as he peered out at the undergrowth, his restlessness mirrored by the brilliant flickers of light dancing under the giant trees. It was in the nature of his people to combine timidity with a nervous energy that made him long for action. Right now, he was longing for that other world - the one that Thyme had convinced him to visit. He had felt exceptionally brave doing such a thing, for it was most unlike one of his kind to possess the valour for such an exploit. But now, he missed the glamorous feeling that being in the other world had led him to believe he possessed: that aura of the adventurer. Most of all, he missed a tool that had served him well - a prized weapon that he'd been forced to leave behind.
        Qualice scurried over to stare out across the water. In the distance, he could see Cliso - another adventurer on their journey - playing in the shallows. For a moment, he considered paying her a visit, merely to talk over their exploits in the world of humans. But he was afraid she would find him dull. Such a thing would crush his humble self-esteem.
        He wondered if he could duplicate that wonderful implement that had served him so well against the Sylybin. Even now, he could see doubt in his people's eyes when he spoke of his mastery over that dreaded invader. If he could make a tool that would mimic the action of that marvellous water shooter, then he could protect his people in the event of future attack. And have some fun in the meanwhile.
        Smiling now, his small face creased with pleasure, he searched for, and found, a hollow tube of wood. Excited, he set about duplicating the wonderful implement of his former glory.
*
        Lily's smile became forced as Thyme approached. Strey Aytaas kept his aura in contact with Lily's, while staring at Thyme - a sneering smile upon his handsome features. Katy looked at the silver fairy, surprised at how his expression filled her with distaste.
        Thyme went straight to his adversary, and bowed politely, in a manner he'd picked up while watching Peter's TV. Then, he turned to Lily, and took the hand that was firmly clasped in Strey Aytaas' - finding he had to uncurl a finger at a time to force the other fairy to release her. "Lily (one finger undone), my Love (two fingers) - may I (three fingers) have (four fingers) this dance?" He pulled her hand free, and swirled her away in a trail of sparks.
        "That was nicely done," Mari commented, as Strey darted off in a huff.
        Katy nodded. Smiling, she mused, "Remember the old expression, 'going sparking'? I wonder if they were thinking about something like that."
***

Chapter Five


        The moonlight, sharp and crystalline, captured the eloquence of the esquiors' wings. It etched bright patches of muscle, to define them both by their sinewy strength, and the shadowing that gave a liquid, albeit dark, pooling reflection beneath.
        Cyrnol, the only feline in the gathering, lurked within the fog cover, the slant to his facial contours partially hidden within the camouflage of his deep purple coloration. The wongnits continued to betray themselves with the wild jitterbug of their gyrations beneath the ground cloud.
        Peter examined, in the brightness of several fairy auras, the bark of a tree newly subsided from its inflammatory display. "Unburned!" He shook his head, muttering. He peeled back a piece of bark - then held it in his palm to examine it. When it suddenly flared into yellow-green flame once more, Peter jumped, and dropped it on to Cyrnol's unsuspecting head. "Jeez, Cat! I'm sorry!" Cyrnol batted the offending bit of matter from his head, then gave the human a baleful glare, his glowing eyes a neat slit - almost closed, yet leaving Peter in no doubt of his feelings.
        Peter heard the trill of fairy laughter, and glanced over at his helpers. Yerly, Miso, and Lyre were their names, if he had them right. He smiled back, careful not to let Cyrnol see. If cats were indeed similar in all worlds, then he could assume that this feline's dignity was something Cyrnol would preserve with a vengeance. After witnessing the cat-beast in action, Peter had no intention of challenging the rough friendship that had sprung up between them, by treading upon that dignity.
        "I think we should get moving." Trevor was impatient to explore. He appreciated the burning trees, but he didn't want to dissect them the way Peter did.
        "But, look, Trev!" Peter excitedly held out a handful of bark. It flared to life, but this time he held on to it.
        "Ouch!" Trevor said, looking at Peter inquiringly.
        "No, Trevor - that's just it! They burn, but don't consume. Isn't it great?"
        Trevor tried to plaster a thrilled expression on his face, but Peter had known him too long to be fooled. "Yeah, Pete," he agreed. "No - it's great - really!" he insisted, after seeing Peter's discouraged look. "It's just that we've been looking at chunks of wood for fifteen minutes now. I'm keen to see what the rest of this place is like."
        "Sure, Trev." Peter turned away, sighing, while Trevor threw his hands in the air.
        "Okay, okay," Trevor muttered to himself, "a few more minutes." His voice carried easily across the top of the fog as he called to someone who could feign interest better than he. "Oh, Katy! Yoo-hoo!" He smiled sweetly, beckoning her over.
        "You, Human, are too gullible." Thyme, having finished extricating Lily from the doubtful pleasure of Strey Aytaas' company, buzzed Trevor's shoulder. He headed in Peter's direction, tugging Trevor along by his hair. "Peter!" he called. Peter turned, a huge grin on his face. "Does that look to you, Trevor Richmond, like the face of someone who has been misunderstood and maligned?" Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Get a brain, Ferret Breath!" Thyme said, pinching Trevor's ear before darting quickly away.
        "Gullible! Now, I have royal jackasses like that misbegotten fairy -" he heard a grunt from Aristi, "- sorry, Aristi - calling me gullible, and it's all your fault, Pete!" He grinned back at his friend, finding himself unable to resist the expression on Peter's face. "Am I really that gullible?" He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.
        "Damn right you are. So gullible that you're not going to complain at all if I spend a few more minutes trying to figure out what makes these trees burn this way."
        Trevor snorted. "Seen one burning tree, seen 'em all."
        "I knew patience wasn't part of your vocabulary."
        "Sure it is. Right between pain-in-the-ass and Peter," Trev replied.
        Trevor waited all of thirty seconds. He looked incredulously at the other members of their group - amazed that none of them seemed eager to explore. "You'd think they'd all been here a million times."
        "Huh?" Peter asked absently.
        Trevor shifted restlessly. "If we're going to