Chapter Eighteen

Arabella’s dreams were soft and not full of violence. In fact they were so quiet that she could not remember what they were about. When they awoke they were in a world of white. Thick fog floated through the trees making everything ghost-like. The giant fern that sheltered them all night proceeded to drip chilled water droplets on them. She coaxed the food bag into producing hot beef stew for both her and Stig. She fished out the crystal ball necklace and put it safely around her neck.

Arabella wanted to go back but Stig was adamant that they go forward. His main reason was that if King Waldemarr had lost the battle, then they could be walking into the fire dragon’s trap. With a heavy heart, Arabella shouldered her sack and followed Stig to the east.

About mid-morning they checked the magic map, to discover that Stig’s weasel senses had kept them on a straight course to the east. It surprised Arabella that Stig could read a map. Some of the symbols did not look right to her, but Stig was about to explain them so that they made sense.

“Can you read as well?” she asked as they walked.

“Oh yes. I’ve read some great books,” he paused lost in thought. “I just can’t remember them, but I know that I read them. In fact, I don’t seem to remember much before I met you.” He said thoughtfully. “I’m hungry.”

“Again?” she said. She wondered why he was not the fattest weasel in the world, but then he was constantly moving. Even when he was sitting still he was wiggling. The only time she had ever seen him perfectly still was when he sensed danger. “I will only feed you if you tell me about yourself while you eat.” Stig looked at her suspiciously.

“One question,” he said.

“No three questions,” Arabella shot back.

“Two,” he said stamping his foot. She laughed and nodded her head.

Stig found a semi-dry log to perch on. Arabella pulled out the food bag and offered it to him. This time his mystery meat looked more like ham, but it did not smell like ham. It smelled much, much worse.

“Well,” he said from around mouthfuls of meat. “What’s your question?”

“Give me a minute,” she said. “You only gave me two and I do not want to waste them on something like ‘what’s you favorite color?’”

“white,” he said.

“White what?” she asked.

“White is my favorite color,” he said grinning at her. “So what is your other question.”

“No,” Arabella shouted. “That was not one of my questions. That did not count.”

“It was a question so it counted,” Stig said and shoved a large meat chunk in his mouth. Arabella opened her mouth to argue more, but then shut it quickly. This was only just a game, so she did not need to feel so offended.

“All right,” she said slowly. She would make this last question good. “Have you always been a weasel, and if not what were you before?” she said quickly.

“That,” Stig pointed a paw full of meat at her, “is two questions in one, but because I am a nice guy I will answer them.” He puffed up his chest proudly. “No and don’t remember.” He grinned. He was being a brat and he knew it as well.

“Stig, what kind of answer is that?” she fumed. “Elaborate, please.”

“Well I vaguely remember being something else. I just can’t remember what that something else was,” he shoved the rest of the meat in his mouth until his cheeks bulged.

“How did you get turned into a weasel anyway?” she asked. Stig shrugged and then swallowed the meat.

“Time to go,” he announced. Arabella knew that he was not talking any more. Someday he might feel more like talking, just not now.

Around noon they topped a hill and looked down on a long stretch of forest of dead trees. The fog was still with them and Stig mentioned that he did not think that it was going to burn off today. As they walked down the hill, Arabella noticed that the air around them got colder. Arabella found that she was nearly tripping over Stig. He was crowding her legs. She felt her heart skip a beat and she started to look around more closely. At the bottom of the hill, Stig gave a cry and Arabella found she had a weasel hanging from the bottom of her skirt. She scooped him up.

“What is it?” she said breathlessly. She spun around looking for the danger.

“The ground,” Stig groaned in fear. He tucked his head under her arm.

Arabella bent down and examined the ground but still could not see anything. She sighed and petted the terrified weasel.

“I do not see anything,” she said. “You are going to have to explain.”

“It’s wet,” he said shortly.

“Stig,” she said exasperated, “I know it is wet. It has been wet all day.”

“No, not this kind of wet. It smells wrong,” he popped his head out to look around. “We need to go around.”

Arabella tried to put Stig down on the ground, but he would no let her. She finally shoved him up on her shoulder and pulled out the magic map. Stig looked at the map while lying across her shoulder.

“Now who put this swamp here?” he pointed a paw at the map. Running from north to south was a massive swamp slicing the map in half. “There is no way around it.” Stig whimpered.

“Then we will have to go through it,” Arabella said studying the map for a safe path.

“Do you know what actually lives in swamps?” demanded Stig. “Alligators, snakes, zombies.”

“Zombies?” Arabella said sharply. “If I did not know better I would say that you just did not want to get your fur wet.” She scolded. “Here is a way through. I will carry you so you do not have to worry.”

Arabella found the trail head. Soon the ground was looking more like the swamp that Stig smelled. Large foul puddles appeared on both sides of the path. Stig sniffed the air nervously. She could feel the little weasel shiver. Stig was truly frightened. When she asked him, he refused to talk about it. He actually screamed when Arabella tripped on a mud clod and nearly went into the water. She righted herself and hugged Stig to her. She stroked his fur to try to sooth away his fears. The path broke up into grassy hummocks surrounded by water. Arabella was forced to jump from hummock to hummock.

It was mid-afternoon when they can to a small clear area. It was a treeless and bare island. Tall reeds grew around it and they nearly missed it. Arabella took off her cape and laid it carefully on a dry area. It was still foggy but it was very muggy. She fanned her face trying to cool off. Stig was still very jumpy. He ran all around the island sniffing and pawing the ground.

“Stig please come sit down next to me,” Arabella patted the ground.

“Can’t you feel it?” Stig whispered. His eyes were wide and he panted while he sat next to her. “Something is wrong, very wrong. It’s too quiet.”

“You are right about that,” she agreed. “We have not seen a single bird, or snake, or zombie.” She grabbed Stig and he whirled baring his teeth at her.

“Stop,” he hissed. “I’m not joking.”

“All right,” Arabella said pulling back from him. “I am sorry.” Arabella stood and walked to the edge of the clearing. “I was just trying to lighten your mood. You are usually not so serious.” Stig grunted.

Arabella fell forward. She gasped startled.

“Stig,” she screamed.

She was being dragged towards the edge of the island and into the reeds. She felt a twisty creature snake up her leg. She looked down and kicked at it. It was green and went off into the reeds. Stig attacked it, biting and scratching at it. Nothing affected it.

“The knife Stig. Go get the knife,” the thing dragged her down into the weeds.

A large plant grew close to the ground with large vines creeping out of the center. The center was a bright-red colored circle. The circle was surrounded with large spikes. Arabella struggled harder but the plant sent more vines. They wrapped around her middle and around her neck. One arm was encased in the vine. There was a soft pop and Stig was in front of her. He held the bird dagger in his mouth.

Arabella grabbed it with her free hand. She sawed at the vine around her neck. It was squeezing her making it difficult to breathe. It had no effect. The knife skittered across the surface. Black spots were forming before her eyes. She knew that if she blacked out then the plant would eat her. She wheezed for breathe. Stig was doing his best to gnaw through the vine, but it seemed to be indestructible. She felt the knife slip in her grip. Her head started spinning. The thing in the middle of the plant snapped shut then slowly opened again. It resembled a large mouth with teeth. The vines slowly dragged her closer.

She felt a warm circle on her chest. Glancing down she noticed that the crystal ball was glowing a bright blue. The mist was gone, but in the center was a while flare. Arabella closed her eyes and softly breathed a spelled towards the knife. She was unaware of what she said. She did not know whether it mattered or not. When the spell was over the crystal ball was back to normal but the knife glowed with a blue halo around it. She brought the knife down onto the vines squeezing her neck and it severed in two. She dragged in a deep breath and cut the rest of the vines from her.

She lay on the ground and watched as the plant pulled the rest of its vines in closer to the mouth for protection. Arabella wondered if she should kill it, but dragged herself back to the island. She lay on her front gasping for breath. Her throat felt painful on the inside. Stig ran up to her and touched her with his nose.

“You okay?” he asked softly. Arabella shook her head. She was not okay, she was merely not dead. Every inch that the plant had touched ached and she wondered if maybe it were poisonous to the touch. She sat up and her head spun badly.

“Let’s get out of here,” she croaked. She coughed and spit out blood. They moved on. Arabella kept the knife out as they dodged more puddles. They also saw many more of the plants. She felt faint and the black spots in front of her eyes were more frequent.

“I have to stop soon,” she said barely whispering the words. The pain and dizziness was threatening to cause her to faint. At one point she fell to her knees, but Stig urged her one. There was a hill leading out of the swampy lowlands. Arabella climbed in on her hands and knees. There was no fog at the top of the hill. She lay there on her front. Her sack was gripped in one hand and the knife was gripped in the other. Stig gently licked a tear from her cheek. She could have sworn that he was kissing her. She lay there hurting.

“Stig,” she whispered. “Take off my necklace.” It felt as if a knife was stabbing the back of her throat. Stig did not ask why, he just carefully took the chain in his mouth and pulled it over her head. The crystal ball lay in front of her. Stig lay next to her side and they fell asleep.