Chapter Five

A fter a two-day perilous journey through the long alley, the park of many trees was finally visible. Tall, dark, leafy silhouettes lit by pink ribbons from the setting sun beckoned them home. There was just one problem. The exit was blocked by three mangy and scary looking cats who were fighting over scraps out of a garbage can. The bucks hid beneath an old mattress that was leaning against one wall. It stank of cheese, making them hungry. Their tummies rumbled, yet they still couldn’t escape until the cats left. They were growing ever impatient while waiting for the cats to find some other distraction.

“I’m hungry,” Bruder Sixfingers whined while rubbing his grumbly tummy.

Bruder Gobbleneck’s shoulders fell, his neck flap swaying with the movement. “Me, too.”

“I know,” Chief D grumbled. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Bruder Bumblenose elbowed his side, an excited gleam in his eyes. “Open the cheese the nannies of tribe Moldy-Bread gave us.”

“Are you kidding?” Chief D shook his head, frustrated with these impatient bucks. “The cats will smell it.”

Bruder Sixfingers motioned toward the shaky weewee with his extra thumb. “We can use dryad to scare away cats.”

Chief D gave him a funny look, angry with himself for not thinking of it first. “What if she doesn’t?”

Bruder Sixfingers shrugged. “Ask her.”

“Dryad.” Chief D shook the skate. “Dryad.”

The dryad didn’t answer, the purple menace laying inert as if it wasn’t possessed. Chief D stomped his foot and cursed the dryad with a spell of a thousand hairy warts. Not that his curse would work. With the exception of a few mages, gnomes had no magic.

Just then he had an idea. “We need distraction.” He nudged Bruder Sixfingers, wanting him to go more out of spite than anything. He still hadn’t forgotten his bruder had called him a bad chieftain, a punishable offense in some tribes. He jutted a finger toward the cats, their tails swishing in the air while they feasted on chicken bones. “Bruder, go out and lead them away.”

“No.” Bruder Sixfingers gave him such a scowl, his eyes nearly crossed. “You go do it.”

Chief D was big mad at Bruder Sixfingers’s defiance, and he feared this would lead to him challenging his rule. His neck and cheeks were so hot, he thought he’d spout off like a tea kettle. He balled up his fists, stepping toe to toe with Bruder Sixfingers, their grimy, thick toenails pressing against one another. “You dare challenge me,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Stop.” Bruder Bumblenose jumped between them, his big nose nearly smacking Chief D in the face. “We play cheese, phone, keys. Losing gnome goes.”

Chief D nodded and stepped back. “Very well,” he said. “You three play.”

Bruder Sixfingers gaped at him. “You no play?”

“No.” He jutted a thumb in his chest. “I chieftain.”

Bruder Sixfingers’s face turned as red as a dragon’s pecker. “You coward.”

“Fine.” Chief D threw up his hands, refusing to be branded a coward. “I play.” He’d played this game many times with Bruder Sixfingers. The dummyhead always called cheese.

They threw out their stubby fingers in the shapes of two phones and two cheeses.

“Phone covers cheese,” he said to Bruders Sixfingers and Bumblenose. “You both lose. Now you two play.”

Bruder Sixfingers grumbled, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red. Again, he threw out cheese, and this time Bumblenose threw out a phone. “Phone covers cheese,” he said to Bruder Sixfingers with a triumphant grin. “You lose.”

Bruder Sixfingers balled up his fists. “Me want do over.”

“No do over.” Chief D jutted a finger toward the crack in the mattress. “You go!”

When Bruder Sixfingers jutted a foot forward, the other bruders joined the chieftain, growling their displeasure. Bruder Sixfingers finally backed down, and then the chieftain shoved him out into the alley.

All three cats stopped feasting, giving the gnome curious looks, their tails waving in the sky, their ears perked up. They must’ve been thinking he was their dessert as they jumped from the trash can and slowly stalked toward him. Bruder Sixfingers let out a squeal and ran back under the mattress, knocking into the other gnomes.

Chief D shoved him hard. “You were supposed to keep running, dummyhead!”

When three pairs of glowing, golden eyes appeared through a hole in the mattress, Chief D grabbed the skate and shoved it forward. “Go, go, go!”

The cats jumped back, hissing when the purple menace rattled, and the gnomes pushed the skate as fast as their stubby legs could carry them. They managed to cross the street, dodging a striga on a bicycle as the tall trees loomed nearer.

Then a yowl sounded behind them, and Chief D weewee’d a little in his pants when he looked over his shoulder to see the three cats racing toward them. Chests heaving, they ran up a ramp, the park’s grassy floor beckoning them forward. Then they stopped with terrified squeals when three hissing cats landed in front of them.

Licking their lips, the cats stalked toward them, their eyes laser focused on Chief D. He pulled out his staff, hollering at the cats as he weewee’d a little more, staining the front of his trousers with a wide bullseye.

The mangiest of the cats jutted a paw forward, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, and Chief D knew his time was up. But then a loud bark shook the ground and rattled Chief D’s bones. The cats jumped into the air before scrambling away.

Chief D gaped at the most amazing sight, a gnome with a wild gray beard and hair to match, and a crown of thorns on top of his head. He rode a big, scary dog with drool dripping down his black gums. Clutching a staff made of gnarled wood, the gnome bent over the dog’s head with a wide grin. “Greetings, bruders. I am Chief Saggycrack.” He motioned toward dozens of other gnomes that popped their heads over the blades of grass behind the dog’s wagging tail. “We are tribe Crusty-Nose. We have been expecting you to bring back dryad.”

Chief D finished releasing that pee, not caring as it dripped onto his dirty, bare feet. They were saved!

CHIEF D COULDN’T CONTAIN his disbelief as he followed the woodland gnomes through the park of many trees while navigating blades of grass taller than him. The trees were even more amazing than the ones he’d seen on Witchtok . They were taller than he’d expected, shading the gritty soil beneath his feet, and everything smelled fresher here, like mold but cleaner. When the woodland gnomes brought him and his bruders to their den that was carved into the bottom of a wide tree, his jaw dropped.

He was a little nervous leaving the purple menace outside with the nannies, but they had fulfilled their duty and brought the dryad to the woodland gnomes. She couldn’t curse his tribe if their nannies refused to release the shaky weewee, right?

The inside of their den was as fancy as a striga castle, with a winding staircase that led to several different levels going all the way up the trunk. Each level was lit with jars of fireflies covered in cloth, and each level offered something different. Some levels were dedicated to nurseries for their offspring. Others were for growing herbs, and several were for sleeping and rutting. The very top levels had tables and chairs made from tree bark.

Chieftain Saggycrack motioned toward a table and told them to sit. “You must be tired, bruders.”

After Chief D sat on a chair, a nanny placed a tall thimble of what he hoped was beer in front of him. “We is,” he said. Then he took a sip of the drink, disappointed when it tasted like some strange herbal tea not beer. He frowned into his cup. “We have gone on very long and dangerous quest. We would love some cheese and beer.”

The woodland chieftain sat across from him, his bushy gray brows drawn together in confusion. “The woodland gnomes no have cheese and beer.”

Chief D and his bruders sputtered and gasped.

Then Chief Saggycrack pulled out a small, blunt object wrapped in paper. “We have something better.”

“What better than cheese and beer?” he blurted, hardly believing these woodland gnomes could survive without crucial food staples.

“Smoke and porridge,” Chief Saggycrack said as a nanny set a candle in front of him and he used the wick to light the end of his blunt object.

The gnomes of tribe Fungi-Toes all gasped, arching away when the paper lit on fire. Chief Saggycrack took a big puff from the object, blowing out a plume of smoke before handing it to him.

“Smoke and porridge?” Chief D asked while awkwardly holding the smoking paper. Was he supposed to smoke it, too?

“Try it.” The woodland chieftain flashed a wide grin while his eyes glazed over. “You like.”

Chief D breathed in the smoke before handing the object to his bruders. He blinked through the haze, hardly believing what he was seeing. Though he’d heard striga on Witchtok speaking of colors other than blue and green and shades of black and gray, he had never seen them, but now he saw bright colors that made no sense as the room spun and spun. This smoke was weird, and he couldn’t feel his face. He wondered what it would feel like to ride the shaky weewee, and if he wished hard enough, maybe, just maybe, he’d grow six more feet so he could mate with the Enchantress. That was all he remembered before he fell backward and drifted off to the land of many dreams.