Authors: Daniel Arenson
"Open the other cages!" she demanded. "Do it now or I'll stick my fur right into your nose." She wiggled a bit, scattering fur, and Willow sneezed louder.
"All—CHOO!—right!" Lying below her, Willow reached out her wand and cast more spells. The other cages broke too. The piglets, monkey, toad, and other animals fled upstairs (the monkey paused just long enough to thumb his nose at Willow).
"And stay down!" Jamie said, rolled off Willow, and bounced upstairs. Romy bounced beside her, squealing in delight.
They rolled into the living room. It was full of vials, mummies, cauldrons, and scrolls, but empty of witches or grunters. Jamie slammed the basement door shut and heard its lock click, sealing Willow in the darkness.
"Woo!" Romy cried. She leaped into the air and crashed onto Jamie. "Wanna wrestle?"
"Romy, God!" She pushed her off. "There's no time for games now. We have to get out of here—quick! Before Willow escapes or Madrila returns."
"But I want to roll downstairs again. Please, Jamie? Please?"
"No more rolling downstairs!" Jamie shouted. "Now come on, let's get out of here."
The two fluff balls bounced across the living room toward the front door. They rolled into the forest, dry leaves and twigs clinging to their fur. Dawn was rising. The grunters were gone, though their footprints covered the earth.
"They've gone to attack Burrfield!" Jamie said. "Come on, Romy, we follow."
The fluff balls rolled across the forest, bouncing over rocks and fallen logs. Jamie wasn't sure how she could save Burrfield this way, but she had to do something. She couldn't hide in this forest while the town needed her. She no longer cared about John Quill or angry mobs; Burrfield was her home, and she'd fight for it, fluff ball or not.
"Keep rolling, Romy," she said. "We're not far."
The grunters had left a clear trail to follow. Jamie bounced along it between the trees. Romy bounced at her side.
A wind moaned, ruffling Jamie's fur. She shivered.
"Bit windy," Romy said.
The wind rose. It shrieked between the trees. Jamie rolled several feet back.
"Oh dear," Romy said.
Jamie growled and tried to keep bouncing forward. But the wind gusted, and she flew backwards. Romy flew at her side.
"Damn it!" Jamie said. "Come on, Romy, let's keep going forward."
The wind had other plans. It gusted and shrieked, tossing Jamie and Romy back. The fluff balls flew between the trees, and soon were rolling downhill—away from Burrfield.
"Whee, rolling again!" Romy cried in delight. She began to sing. "Rollin', rollin'... rollin' on the river...."
The balls of fluff flew over bushes and into a river. The current began pulling them downstream. Jamie struggled and squeaked, but could not climb out. The water soaked her fur, and she felt heavy and clumsy. The river moved at breakneck speed, pulling them further and further away from Burrfield. Romy laughed and squealed with joy. Jamie shivered and cursed.
For a long time, the fluff balls flowed in the current. It led them through miles of beech, oak, and birch trees. One time, Jamie managed to roll onto a muddy bank, but the wind blew her back into the water, much to Romy's amusement.
The sun reached its zenith, and still they rolled on the river. The forest grew older here. The oaks were twisted, and their mossy roots rose like cathedrals for fairies, coiling and intermingling. Vines and lichen hung from the branches, and Jamie could barely see the sky. It seemed to her like no individual trees lived here; they merged, branches and roots braided into one being. She shivered. Those trees seemed to be watching her. Their leaves were not bright orange or red, like in Burrfield, but bronze and copper.
This is an ancient place,
Jamie thought.
A place of power and secrets.
"Owww... I want to go
faster
," Romy pouted.
The river had indeed slowed, Jamie noticed. This entire forest seemed somehow... slower, quiet, its colors faded. She saw roots reaching over the water ahead. When the water brought her near, she bounced onto the roots and rolled toward the river bank. No wind blew here, and she managed to reach solid earth.
"Come on, Romy," she said. "Up here."
Romy bounced onto the roots, rolled along them, and landed by Jamie. The two fluff balls shook themselves wildly. Water sprayed, and their fur poofed up.
"I want to go again," Romy said.
"Later, Romy. First we have to worry about getting back to Burrfield." She sighed. "It's many miles away now. It'll take ages to roll back."
She sighed. Even if she made it back home, and even if she saved Burrfield, would she remain a fluff ball forever? Romy seemed to enjoy her new form, but Jamie was a warrior. She needed to wield swords, to wear armor, to fight her enemies... not roll and bounce and squeak. If anyone could help her, she thought, it was Neev.
He'd know a spell to cure me, or know where to find such a spell.
She was about to start rolling home when Romy screamed behind her.
"Ahh! Monsters! Monsters, Jamie!"
Jamie spun around, expecting to see grunters, slinkers, or some other beasts. Instead she saw....
"Wood elves!" she whispered in awe.
A dozen stood before her. They were short, slender people; the tallest stood shy of five feet. They wore leggings, tunics, capes clasped with silver acorns, and tall boots. Silver blades and quivers of arrows hung from their belts. Their ears were pointy and so long, they rose like antennae. Golden stars, moons, suns, and other symbols glowed upon their foreheads.
Romy began rolling away. "Run, Jamie! Monsters!"
"Get back here, Romy. They're not monsters. They're elves. Come see."
Shivering, Romy rolled back and settled by Jamie. The elves stared at them curiously. One walked forward, a young man who wore a green cape and hood. He was the only one not armed with blade or arrow; instead he held a green and golden wand. A star glowed on his forehead.
"You've met Madrila," he said.
Jamie nodded (at least, as much as a furball could nod). "You've seen her curse before."
The young elf patted her fur. "My name is Rowyn of Clan Birchroot." He turned to Romy and smiled. "And we are not monsters, but elflings. Wood elves, as you call us. We're smaller than the high elves of the north, and not as skilled with magic, though I think we know enough magic to cure you."
A second elfling stepped forward. She held a silver, leaf-shaped dagger. Her hair was red, her eyes green and fiery, her face freckled. She wore grey leggings and a green tunic, and a sun with seven rays glowed on her forehead.
"Rowyn, this is dangerous," this elfling said. "They could be the witch's spies. This could be her plan to find our clan."
Rowyn placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ellywyn, I trust them. We watched them for an hour on the water. They spoke of Burrfield, not of dark magic; they are humans from the west, and no threat to us."
Ellywyn's eyes flashed. "Humans too are a threat. They cut down trees to build their farms. They dry rivers. They—"
"I'm not human!" Romy said. "I'm a scary evil demon of terror!" She roared, but it sounded more like a squeak. "Jamie is human, but nobody's perfect, and I've never seen her cut a tree or dry a river. Though a few times, she did step on my tail, so I wouldn't trust her entirely."
The elflings looked at one another, eyebrows raised. Ellywyn sighed.
"Fine, Rowyn," the elfling girl said. "We'll take them to see your grandfather. Maybe he can cure them. But if they do anything suspicious...." She swung her blade near Jamie; the rush of air ruffled her fur. "I'll cut them in half."
The elflings began to walk between the trees. Jamie and Romy rolled along with them. The forest grew even thicker as they left the river behind. The roots rose ten feet tall, mossy and twisting. Burrows filled the trees, housing creatures that peered with shiny eyes. Dry leaves carpeted the ground, vines dangled, and curtains of moss swung. Where the branches parted, rays of light fell, dappling the forest.
After what seemed like hours of walking, the elflings stopped moving, and Rowyn announced: "Welcome to the Clan Birchroot."
Jamie looked around her. She saw nothing but more forest. The trees rose just as twisted and mossy here. Lichen swayed, wisps of mist floated between the branches, and a stream gurgled.
"Is this your home?" she asked.
Ellywyn, the elfling with the red hair and fiery green eyes, pointed her blade at Jamie.
"Our
secret
home," she said. "Tell no one, or I'll cut you."
"What could I tell of? I see nothing but more trees, more moss, and...."
Her voice died and she gasped. Eyes were peering from a tree! When she looked closer, she saw a figure crouched among the branches. An elfling girl! She was holding a bow and pointing an arrow below.
Jamie looked from tree to tree. She thought she could see more elflings. Their clothes blended into the trees, and their eyes peered from between the leaves.
One elfling leaped down from the trees, landed in a patch of dry leaves, and walked toward them. She wore a grey dress that ended with a hem of green triangles. Her skin was brown like the tree trunks, her eyes purple, and her hair long and silvery like moonlight. A half-moon glowed on her forehead.
"Who do you bring to Clan Birchroot?" she asked Rowyn.
"Hello, Noelyn. I bring Romy, a demon of the underground, and Jamie, a human of the west. The witch Madrila has cursed them, and turned them into these balls of fur. I will bring them to Grandfather Snagglefoot; he's wise and can cure them."
Noelyn stared at Jamie, her eyes deep and glowing, like dusky sky strewn with stars. The elfling archer nodded.
"Very well. May our magic cure them, and may the witch soon fall."
Rowyn began leading them between the trees. As Jamie bounced beside him, she noticed that nests filled the trees, holding elflings. Other elflings peaked from hollow logs or between roots. Small gardens grew between some trees where the sunlight fell; she saw gourds, cucumbers, and strawberries.
They live like the wildlife,
Jamie thought. She wondered what it must be like—to have no walls around you, only trees, and no roof over your head, only branches. The air smelled so fresh here—the smell of trees, water, leaves, growing things. This was a good place, she thought. A place of life and health.
I bet nobody here prints nonsense in dumb newspapers,
Jamie thought.
I wish I were an elf from Glaswood Forest, not Jamie the outcast girl from Burrfield.
Rowyn led them to a great tree, so wide three men could not hug it. Its roots rose like a temple, a dozen feet tall, forming twisted columns. Golden leaves carpeted the forest floor here, several inches deep. Sun beams sparkled.
"Welcome to Old Oak," Rowyn said solemnly. Beside him, the redhead Ellywyn clasped her dagger to her breast. Noelyn, the archer with the silver hair, tightened her grip on her bow. The golden charms on their foreheads glowed stronger here.
This is a holy place to them,
Jamie thought.
"Come inside," Rowyn said and stepped between two roots. He vanished into shadow.
Jamie bounced after him. She was wide in fluff ball form, but most of her girth was her fur. She squeezed between the roots and found herself rolling down a tunnel. Romy rolled behind her. The air smelled of moss and mud here, but it was a good smell, Jamie thought. Roots twisted around her and mushrooms grew. Soon they reached a chamber under the tree, roots and earth forming walls around them. Jars of fireflies glowed in alcoves. Jamie saw a rug, an armchair, and shelves with wands, scrolls, and vials.
An ancient elfling sat before them. His white hair grew down to his knees. His nose was as long and pointy as his ears. He gazed at them with round, brown eyes and smiled. He had only three teeth, and when he smiled, countless wrinkles turned his face into a raisin.
"Well hello there, the demon Romy and the human Jamie."
Jamie wasn't sure how he knew their names, but felt it impolite to pry.
"Hello," she said.
Rowyn stood by the old elfling and introduced him. "This is my grandfather, the wise wizard Snagglefoot. He leads our clan. If anyone can cure you, it's him."
Romy bounced. "Nice place you got here, Snagglefoot," she said. "Do you have any marbles? How about a deck of cards?"
The old elfling struggled to his feet. He grabbed a twisting cane and hobbled toward her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a marvellous marble. It was blue, green, and tan, and looked like a round map. Clouds seemed to swirl across it.
"Ooh... pretty!" Romy said. "Can we play? I don't have hands anymore, though... just fur."
Snagglefoot tossed the marble into the air, where it floated and spun. He drew his wand from his robes and uttered a spell. When he touched the wand to Romy, her fur flurried, as if a gale blew against her. She squealed and laughed, as if he were tickling her. She began to spin like the marble that floated above. Magic flowed around her. Smoke rose, and suddenly a demon crouched where the orange furball had been.
Romy's wings were wrapped around her like a cocoon. She unfurled them slowly, flapped them, and gasped. She was a demon again, her skin red, her hair woven of flame, her fangs and claws bright. She wagged her tail, reached up, and grabbed the marble.
"Mine," she said.
Snagglefoot chuckled and turned to Jamie. He touched his wand to her, and goodness, it
did
tickle. Jamie couldn't help but squeal and laugh too. Her fur ruffled, and she began to spin wildly. She saw streaks of light, strands of magic, and puffs of smoke. Her fur vanished, and soon she knelt on the floor, a girl again. She wore her old leggings, breastplate, and cloak, and carried her sword over her back. She stood up, her knees shaky, and stood beside Romy. The top of her head only reached the demon's shoulder.
"I was taller before," Jamie lied, daring to hope. If he could turn her from a fluff ball back into a girl, couldn't he give her another seven or eight inches? Was she doomed to spend her life under five feet, a waif of a girl, her sword nearly as long as her entire body?