Chapter Four

Edna wakes to gentle rocking; her face is warm from the sun. Frogs croak, birds twitter, and water laps against the bottom of the boat like it is bathing a child. Pixie and Twynne face their destination while the oars cut softly into the surface.

“I must’ve dozed off.” Edna says. Then, with a tone suggesting of reluctant self awareness, “I tend to do that a lot these days.”

“You weren’t asleep for very long,” Pixie says.

When Edna straightens from her slouching position, the cords of muscle in the right side of her neck tighten, and a sharp pain shoots down through her right shoulder. Pain after waking is not a new thing for Edna, so she casually rubs her shoulder, then she rubs her arms and then her eyes. When she rubs her eyes, her cheeks tighten and burn. She bends over the side of the boat to see her reflection on the surface of the water. Her face is red.

“I miss the island,” Edna says, splashing cold water on her face to ease the pain. “The sun was much more forgiving there.”

“It’s a nice place,” Twynne says, “but it can get pretty boring.”

“Twynne, you’re just a big bundle of hair, aren’t you,” Edna laughs. She realizes that his moss coat had been tucked around her after she fell asleep. As she hands it to him something in the water splashes her.

“Was that a whale?” Edna asks, tense. “Is there a whale under us?”

“Mermaid,” Pixie says. “There she is again.” Pixie points behind Edna, but when Edna turns to look the mermaid has already disappeared under the surface.

“Oh, where is it, where did it go?” Edna asks.

“She’s playing with you,” Pixie says. “If you ignore her, you’ll see her.”

Edna puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, like she couldn’t be bothered to be curious. Twynne turns from the oars and puts his hands in his lap as well, straightening his posture with a distinguished air while Pixie pretends to drink a cup of tea, her pinky finger lifted delicately. The corners of Edna’s mouth twist. She is trying not to laugh; she really wants to see the mermaid.

The mermaid does not like being ignored. She lifts her body above the surface, five feet from the boat, and stares right at Edna. Edna tries to observe the mermaid from the corner of her eye. The mermaid works her fin back and forth in the water to stay above the surface, but she is quick to dive back underwater before Edna can get a good look. A shimmering purple tail lifts out of the water and slaps the surface, causing water to shower the boat. But soon two bodies come up out of the water, laughing and bumping their chests together.

“I’m Molulaaka,” says the female

“I’m Molukaaba,” says the male.

Pixie is surprised by the abrupt introductions. Usually, merpeople toy with a human’s curiosity for an impossibly long time. They may have sensed that Edna is no ordinary human. Merpeople are as curious as human children.

“I’m Edna. And this is Pixie and Twynne,” Edna says, motioning to herself and her companions. Pixie and Twynne smile, and the merpeople nod their heads. Edna takes a good long look at these creatures. Their bodies are covered in purple scales, like those of a fish, and the scales shimmer with hints of green and yellow. They have gills in their necks that move rapidly, and jelly like eyes that look disconcertingly fragile. And their hair is like long wet tangles of yellow seaweed that cling to their bodies while out of water. If they had any other shape to their upper bodies than human, Edna would have thought them stunning; but because their human form is fish-like in substance, she is a little repulsed by them. The mermaid smiles. Her teeth are long and thin and curve in, slightly, and there are small globs of green slime lodged between them.

“How do you brush your teeth?” Edna asks. “Or do you have little fishes that swim in your mouth and nibble away the junk? I saw on the Discovery Channel that that’s how sharks get their teeth clean.” The two merpeople laugh, and Edna’s skin crawls, a little bit.

“The junk always comes out eventually,” the merman says, and both dive back into the water with another slap of their tails on the surface.

Edna looks at Twynne and Pixie. “Did I offend them?”

“No,” Pixie says. “Merpeople don’t like to talk much; it’s boring for them. They prefer to play; that’s what they do all day, just play.”

The mermaid raises her body out of the water and dances upon the surface. Her flippers work to keep her body upright and in movement. The merman shoots through the surface of the water and flies towards the mermaid. His right shoulder and arm crash into the mermaid’s stomach which causes her body to smack the water surface. The merpeople disappear under the water with a huge splash.

“Abuse!” Edna cries out. “That was abuse! He tackled her like she’s a man. She must be hurt down there, oh what a terrible thing to do!”

Pixie and Twynne look at each other with half smiles. Edna, Pixie, and Twynne turn to the sound of giggling behind them and are sprayed in the face. The merpeople dive back under the surface before propelling themselves over the boat like rockets.

“I’m losing interest in those two,” Edna says.

“Merpeople can be a bit over the top,” Twynne says, “but they have a special place in Storia. Children can’t get enough of them.”

“There they go,” Pixie says, “I think the’ve lost interest in us.”

Edna sees purple shimmering far away under the surface.

“Look,” Pixie says, “we’re coming upon land.”

The shore is about a quarter mile away. Edna becomes antsy and is suddenly impatient to stretch her legs. When she begins to shift in her seat one of her calves starts to cramp. The cramping is so painful that she clenches her eyes and her jaws shut. She tries punching the calf that is tightening into a ball, but that does not work, so she tries to stand. She holds tight to her cane and pushes it into a notch in the wood to stand up, but this causes the boat to rock a little, and Edna loses her balance. The fleeting cramp is gone but now Edna is frantically trying not to fall.

Twynne and Pixie watch Edna, amused.

“Help!” Edna finally screams at them, panicked.

Pixie and Twynne are immediately by Edna’s side to hold her steady and help her to sit back down. When she is seated, she jerks both arms out of Twynne’s and Pixie’s and turns her face to the water. A few teardrops roll down her cheeks. Edna’s friends sense her frustration but are not sure what to do, so they pat her kindly, like a dog, Edna thinks, and resume their spot at the oars.

When the boat arrives at the surface, they row it upon the rough, muddy edge to keep it in place while they step out of it onto land.

“We’re here,” Pixie sings. “Water isn’t so scary after all, is it?” Pixie and Twynne are both looking at Edna, expectantly.

Edna rolls her eyes instead of answering and steps out of the boat onto the slippery rocks. She would refuse Twynne’s hand if it were offered, but it is not. Once she gets to solid ground, she walks ahead of her two companions and keeps her eyes forward, though she does not know where she should be headed. Pixie and Twynne follow behind her, quietly, and give her the space she seems to want.

Edna refuses to be the one to break the silence, even though this new land piques her curiosity. The ground is covered in fallen leaves and yet the closest trees are at least 100 yards away. The leaves are dry and crisp, and there are so many that they cover the ground in multiple layers. Edna has fun stepping on them because they crackle under her feet. If she were a child, she might have wanted to lie down and make leaf angels. The setting is not too different than one she might find in her own world, but something about the slight difference—the abundance of leaves with no seeming explanation—feels more whimsical than if the trees themselves were walking around and dropping the leaves everywhere they went.

There are noises in the distance, like the cawing and twittering of birds, yet different, like an alien bird language. Edna wants to see the birds that make such noises but is too stubborn to ask Pixie where they are, or how to attract them. She wants to stop and enjoy the scenery, and to play in the leaves and uncover the floor that lays beneath them.

Instead, she asks, “when is this whole ordeal supposed to be over? I have a family to get back to. They’re probably worried about me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Pixie says with relief, thinking that this concern must be the cause of Edna’s change in disposition. “Time is different here than it is on earth. I don’t even think we have time the way you do. Our time is all a moment, but you have moment after moment after moment. When you get back not much time will have passed.”

“Well,” Edna begins to respond, but she is distracted by what Pixie has just said about time. She doesn’t understand what Pixie means about time here being just a moment, but she is too stubborn to ask. She remembers what she had started to say, and continues, “maybe I miss my family, even if they don’t know I’m gone. They are kind to me, they treat me with respect, and they don’t take amusement in my struggles instead of helping me. I’m not some clown to them just because I can’t do everything a young person can.” Edna’s eyes water. Pixie looks confused.

“Well, that’s great,” Twynne says. “They sound nice.”

Before Edna can respond, Twynne disrupts a flock of birds that are nesting in a pile of leaves. An angry clattering emerges, and Edna is surprised to observe that they are not birds at all. She thinks for a moment that they are flying lizards. They are green and have the kind of scaly skin a lizard does. They also have long tales that curl about in the air from one side to the other. One lands on Twynne’s shoulder and squawks at the troll’s ear in reprobation.

“They’re not lizards, they’re little dragons,” Edna says with a sense of wonder that momentarily overcomes her stubbornness. “They’re so tiny. I thought dragons were gigantic.”

“These are the smallest of the dragon species. There’re various kinds, some are about this big,” Pixie says holding her hand level with her knees. “And many of those are domesticated and kept as pets. There are also sapient dragons–the biggest ones. If you want to meet them you must go to their village, they don’t like being far from their homes. There’s a strong possibility we may end up doing just that,” Pixie says, and looks hesitantly at Edna’s cane.

Edna grips the top of her cane with both hands. “This is a pretty solid cane, I’m sure it’ll hold out.”

Pixie smiles, “oh I’m sure it will.”

Edna remembers her indignation. “Listen, I need to be alone for a while. I need to clear my head, and you two are always around me.”

Twynne had subdued the disgruntled dragon with chin rubs, but it startles when he looks up at Edna. “You can’t go off by yourself,” he says.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea, Edna,” says Pixie.

“I would think I could take care of myself. I’ve done so for quite some time. I’m sure I can do so here, too. I want to be alone.”

Twynne looks at Pixie and waits for her to say no and to come up with a very good reason why. But Pixie doesn’t. Instead, she says, “well, of course, we cannot make you stay by our side. If you need some space, we can wait here and let you wander around and explore the area.”

“I don’t want to explore the area; I want to be left alone!” Edna says. She does not want to be left alone, and she knows it. But to be fair, she also does not want to be around her new companions, either. So, she is not lying. She is, as she often is, befuddled by her emotions.

“Why can’t I just meet you somewhere,” Edna says. “Instead of waiting for me, we could meet somewhere along the way.”

“Pixie!” Twynne says.

“It’s ok, Twynne. If that’s what she needs, we’ll make it possible. How much time do you need?”

“At least a day,” Edna says flatly. Her stomach twists; she cannot stop herself from making foolish demands.

Pixie puts a hand on Twynne’s and gives it a significant squeeze. Twynne’s shoulder relax. “Let’s meet at the local public house by no later than tomorrow, midday,” Pixie tells Edna. “Twynne and I will head there directly, and we’ll stay there until you come. We can sleep there if you don’t arrive until tomorrow. This’ll allow you to take as much or as little time as you need. It takes no more than a couple hours to get there from here. All you have to do is follow the yellow trees.” Pixie points at a tree in the distance that has a slight yellow hue. It is surrounded by similar trees with earthy brown trunks. “It doesn’t matter where you are in this forest, just follow the yellow trees. They’ll take you to the carriage station. And if you lose your direction, the side of the tree that is the darker yellow is the side that faces the direction you should be headed.” Pixie pulls out some gold coins from a pouch that has hung—unnoticed till now—to Pixie’s waist. She places the coins in Edna’s hands. “Tell your driver to take you to the Public House.” Pixie then tries to hand Edna a loaf of the thick moist bread they had brought to sustain themselves.

“I can’t carry that the whole time,” Edna says. “Isn’t there anywhere I can buy food?”

“Not near here,” Pixie says. “But there are plenty of fruit and nuts in the trees around us.”

“How am I supposed to get them, I can’t climb trees,” Edna snaps. She snatches the loaf out of Pixie’s hand and, with a frustrated sigh, begins walking towards the yellow tree. She does not look back at her friends or say goodbye.

“When you get thirsty drink from the leaves,” Pixie shouts. “You’ll find plenty of curved leaves with water in them.”

“Oh great,” Edna mumbles to herself, “now I have to collect leaves just to get a drink of water.” She looks at the leaves around her and sees none that have water in them.