Keith G. Alderman

---

The End of the Beginning

Chapter 18

---

The forest thundered under each of Maushop’s footsteps, until he had either distanced himself so far that they no longer felt the vibrations, or he had descended deep into the Pactolus again. The field sighed in relief, and all became calm. A blue mist fell from the sky, smelling like lavender and honey, and draped across the field. The children backed away from the mysterious cloud before recognizing the glow of the Ghost of Ponce de León at its center. 

“You’re back!” Marian shouted in excitement. 

Starlight perked up from Herbert’s shoulder and flew to Ponce de León, dancing and spinning around him like a jubilant firefly.

The Ghost smiled. “I never left, Marian,” he replied. “You just didn’t see me. Now—how about we heal that leg of yours, Esther?” 

The Ghost led the children to the wall surrounding the spring. The spout, more like a spigot now that they saw it up close, poured the spring’s silky, smooth water onto a white granite plate that spilt into the shallow fountain. Aaron helped Esther sit on the edge. She slowly dipped her foot and leg under the water. Her skin turned glossy and sleek, as if bathed in oil, and a scent filled the air like violets and shepherd’s purse. 

“Oh!” Esther said.

“What is it?” Aaron asked, concerned.

“It feels so cool—so pleasant,” she said. 

“I’m very proud of you, Herbert,” the Ghost said. “You told the truth, and that took a lot, I know.” 

Herbert smiled, sheepishly. “Thank you,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Can you please tell us what is going on now?” Marian asked. “We are here. We did what we think you wanted us to do.”

“What is this place?” Esther asked.

“Who is the Army of Bones and Maushop?” Aaron butt-in.

“Where did they go?” Herbert added.

The Ghost smiled. “Maushop and his little people are a story for another time,” he replied. “But of course, I will tell you about this spring and who I am. I hope you know how much I love Florida. I came to this magical place many times in my adult life, traveling from Spain and Puerto Rico and back again. But the final time was in the year 1521. I brought two-hundred men and women with me—priests, doctors, artists—those who could help to create a beautiful and fruitful life in Florida. But I was misinterpreted. And mortally wounded by an arrow dipped in poison.

“The indigenous people—those I came to help and serve—they came to my aid. They brought me deep into the Enchanted Forest, here to the Fountain. And I have remained its protector ever since. My people—those that were left—returned to Puerto Rico after swearing to secrecy to inform others I had died in Cuba.”

“Why keep it a secret?” Marian asked. 

“This place is not meant for those who cast poisoned arrows, or those that serve the ones that do.” 

“I guess it didn’t work then,” Aaron said, and Ponce de León looked at him. “Saving your life, I mean. If you are a ghost, it means you died.”

The Ghost laughed, and it sounded like rich maple leaves blowing in the wind. “People are always confused about what eternity is. Everyone wants eternal life, but they don’t want to die to receive it.”

“Why did we have to come here?” Esther asked. “Couldn’t you have closed the gate at any time?”

“Unfortunately, no, Miss Esther,” The Ghost replied. “Once it was broken, Maushop knew his place to protect the Fountain. And he was under strict orders not to move for anyone, even me—only those who brought his little people back were worthy enough for him to move. With Maushop here at the Fountain, the fairies wouldn’t be, and eventually the Fountain would have lost its power. And that would be a very bad thing.”

“The fairies bring the power to the Fountain?” Esther asked.

“Some of them would think they do,” Ponce de León chuckled. “But no—they only sustain it.” 

“Seems like a poor system,” Aaron muttered.

“It may seem strange today, but one day you may see that each puzzle piece matters.”

“If you are the protector of this place,” Marian thought aloud, “That means you are the one who wanted the gate there. Does that mean you are the one who put the creature in the swamp? Did you hurt Esther?”

“Of course not!” The Ghost encouraged. “However, they made you stronger and nobler for it.”

Marian didn’t like it. 

Esther was silent. 

Herbert was confused.

“So are all the monsters going to return to the Enchanted Forest?” Herbert wondered. 

“Some of them,” the Ghost replied. “But the gate never kept the monsters in. Most already lived out there in the world. But don’t worry, Herbert—that smelly Skunk Ape will be gone forever.”

“If the forest wasn’t keeping all the monsters in,” Esther asked. “Why was there a gate?”

“Haven’t you guessed it, yet? The gate was to make sure only the right people entered.”

“Wait!” Aaron injected. “You mean closing the gate wasn’t ever going to get rid of the monsters around town?” 

“I never said it would, Aaron,” the Ghost replied. “Sadly, the monsters are already out there in the world. And this forest must be protected.”

“Well, how do you like that?”

“Who have we met that wasn’t supposed to be in here?” Esther asked.

A splash of hot wax hit the grass behind the children. They turned to see an oily stain on the ground. A pair of crocodile and snake-skinned shoes kicked the grass and covered up the stain. And standing in those shoes was the thin, pale, and altogether unpleasant, Mr. Dauer. He reached for his hat and bowed before the children. 

“Speakin’ of the bag of bones,” Aaron muttered under his breath. He pulled the machete between Mr. Dauer and the group. “Get away from us, you liar!” 

“Hello, old friend,” Mr. Dauer addressed the Ghost. “What’s it been—five-hundred years?” 

“Something like that,” Ponce de León replied. “What are you doing in my forest?” 

The Top-Hat Man scowled and his neck twitched. “These wonderful children let me in, friend.” Here he opened his shaking arms and a cloud of dust puffed from his cufflinks. 

“That’s a lie!” Herbert hollered at him. 

“Be still,” Ponce de León held his hand out to Herbert. “You need not advocate for me, while I advocate for you.” 

“Herbert doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut—do you, Herbert?” Mr. Dauer interrogated. “Always opening it to lie and steal.” 

“That’s enough!” Marian shouted. 

The Top-Hat Man ignored her. “Did you always grow up blaming others and lying your way to your parents’ and sisters’ affections, Herbert? Are you doing that with Ponce de León now, too? Will you ever actually deserve the love you get, Herbert—or will you just keep lying to get it?” 

“Herbert,” the Ghost whispered. “Look at me.” 

Herbert turned away from Mr. Dauer and looked at the Ghost. He was kneeling down next to him. “I don’t need you to be perfect,” the Ghost looked him in the eyes and smiled. “I just need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Herbert?” 

Herbert nodded. With everything in him, he wanted so badly to hug the ghost, but knew he would go right through him. 

The Ghost of Ponce de León rose and faced Mr. Dauer. “Something tells me you have already lost,” he said.

“And something tells me I’ll have another chance,” Mr. Dauer smiled. He reached his hand up and unplugged the cork from the side of his head. He tilted it, and wax and oil dripped on the ground. “See you soon, Dolors,” he said. And at the tap of his cane, he vanished before them.

The children looked around the dug-up field and back at one another, searching for where the Top-Hat Man disappeared to. 

“Don’t worry about him, children,” the Ghost encouraged. “Now let’s look at that leg, Miss Esther.” He turned and bent down beside her. She lifted her foot from the Fountain, and to her amazement and delight, the wound had closed up, the infected spiderweb veins had dissipated, and the sutures had fallen off. She stood on her foot and gave a little happy dance, while the other children celebrated with her. 

“Señor Ponce de León,” Esther said, and curtsied. “I can never thank you enough.” 

“Kids, drink,” the Ghost addressed all of them. “Taste and see that the water is refreshing.” 

The children bent down at the water’s edge. Their cupped hands brought a mouthful to their lips. It tasted like honey on their tongues, but in their stomach it felt sour and bitter. 

“Does this mean we will live forever?” Aaron asked, wiping the residue from his lips. 

“You would have to die in the waters to become eternal,” Ponce de León replied. “However, it will protect you from some evil sounds and spells.” 

“Seems a bit like a letdown,” Aaron muttered. 

A flurry of humming wind crept from all four corners of the forest. They wondered if it were raining until they saw the glowing flicker of fairies illuminating the trees and forest-floor. Millions of twinkling lights-pinks, blues, reds, oranges, purples, greens, and yellows-came from all directions, and surrounded the children like a tornado of color and light. They were blinding and fantastic, terrifying and exhilarating; buzzing torpedoes of light shooting around each of them in a graceful dance of joy and harmony. Herbert noticed that Starlight was no longer at his side. He searched through the wild anthem of color and light until he saw a familiar emerald glow emanating from the green fairy. He grinned in excitement that she had found her family. Though, later, he would regret not being able to say goodbye. All the while, the dance pulsated in lights, colors, and grace. One moment, they thought they comprehended that the dance formed a kind of story about the birth of the forest and the people chosen to protect it, but in the next instant it became confusing and nonsense again. The story of light and color lasted hours, as the fairies danced and pranced about the spring waters, long after the children even left. 

Ponce de León led them through a separate path, back to the riverbank. “I’m very happy you came, children,” the Ghost said. “And so proud that you stuck together.” 

“Ponce de León,” Marian said. She held the logbook in her hands. “The logbook added pictures and words as we went. English words and—well, us. Were we always in this book?” 

“You were if you wanted to be,” the Ghost responded. “But it required you coming through the gate. If you hadn’t, someone else would have.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“The book is already finished. The reader just needs to learn how to read the pages. Whosoever does, gets to play a part in it. And how much or how little of a part is up to them.” 

Marian opened the logbook to the furthest recorded spot and saw a hand-drawn image of a riverbank. Birds flew in the air, fish jumped from the river, and a forest behind them danced in colorful light. Four children and a transparent apparition stood on the bank. The words underneath the image read: The End of the Beginning.

The book swelled and warped in Marian’s hands. She turned the page and saw another image drawn. This one of two boys sitting on a bench together counting acorns. Another page showed two girls swinging under a tree and using sticks as imaginary swords. The pages flipped through her fingers and she stopped at another. Its image showed three kids crying with each other at a funeral. Another of a cave swarming with crocodiles. Still another of a golden treehouse. And one of a little girl standing in front of a sort of bowl and grasping hold of a floating orb in the sky. She flipped the pages further and further, discovering every one of them had a picture, and no matter how many pages she turned, another page was waiting. 

She looked up at Ponce de León. “I don’t understand. Who are these other children? Are there others who have come into this forest?”

He smiled. “Many, many others,” he said. “More than you can ever imagine.”

“Where are they now?”

“Finishing their stories.” 

Marian didn’t want to look away from all the other fascinating pages and stories she had discovered, because something inside of her told her they wouldn’t stay there forever. And sure enough, wouldn’t you know that later, when opening the book to find the hidden stories again, they were nowhere to be found. Perhaps another tale will let us know what those stories entailed. 

The Ghost took off his wide-brimmed hat with the enormous feather in it and held it between his hands. 

“Herbert,” he said, “I need you to do something very important for me.” 

“Okay,” Herbert said, bowing his head reverently.

The Ghost of Juan Ponce de León pulled from his hat a glowing panther artifact, identical to Herbert’s. “I need you to return this to the gate when you leave,” he said. “The one you have won’t work anymore. But you can keep it as a memento. I can’t hand it to you, you know. I’m a ghost, after all. So you must take it from me.” Herbert reached to take the glowing artifact out of his hand, and just as he reached for it, it dropped through Ponce de León’s hand and landed in the grass.

“Oh,” Herbert said, examining the artifact. “I think it got damaged. There’s a chip on the side of the panther’s face.” 

“I’m sure it was always there, Herbert,” Ponce de León smiled. “No need to fret.”

He put his feathered hat on his head, which made Esther giggle, and bowed before them. “Dolor children, Aaron,” he said, “I wish you a happy adiós. Your parents are waiting for you, and I’m sure you best get home before they get too worried. The gate will remain open until you leave.”

The blue mist faded like a foggy morning meeting the warmth of the rising sun, and the Ghost disappeared. His eyes remained in the air for a moment longer than the rest of his transparent body until nothing remained but three fluttering pixies and a sparkle of light.

---

---

The Army of Bones

Chapter 17

---

Through the gate, on the needles, up the hill, over the cliffs, down the ravine, in the mud, across Weeper’s Run, amidst the brambles, and along the Pactolus River—the children trekked. More so, hobbled, as Esther limped her way through the Enchanted Forest on a pair of crutches Mr. Dolor had kept from a previous injury. 

They left the house as soon as realizing the panther figurine was the artifact, but Esther’s injury made the journey thrice as long. The sun cocked in the mid-afternoon sky, baking their backs. And yet, none of them grew tired or frustrated. Whenever Esther slipped or stumbled, they simply stopped, helped her to her feet, and encouraged one another to continue. 

The forest was a familiar home now. Birds, trees, and scurrying animals were their distant relatives. Strange noises and creepy critters reminded them of happy times,   meandering through ditches and thickets, clutching Balaam’s hide and asking for his help. 

They rested by the Pactolus, recalling the joy they had with Balaam, swimming and drinking the cool, refreshing water. Water gently splashed against their bare feet while they rested in the sunshine. Marian handed out snacks she stole from the kitchen, and each of them refilled their water bottles. 

“How is the leg?” Herbert asked Esther.

“It’s swollen a lot,” she replied. “But the water is helping. I can make it. We need to do this.”

“For Mom and Dad,” Marian said.

“For everyone,” Aaron added. 

The four gathered their belongings and continued downstream under the shade of the cedar and oak trees until turning westward through the uprooted forest. This time, they remembered to bring something to clear the debris. Aaron carried Mr. Dolor’s machete and whacked plants out of their way. After a few hot minutes, they were at the felled ficus. Aaron and Herbert stepped in first, holding branches down with their feet, and others up with their hands, until Marian helped Esther pass. 

The girls emerged on the other side first, followed by the boys, huffing and puffing. They brushed leaves and debris from their face and hair to see Maushop still leaning against the spring wall. His hand had remained dipped in the water, but his frown had turned gloomier.

“Good afternoon, Maushop,” Marian greeted him.

He looked a bit surprised to see them and smiled meekly. “Dolor children,” the giant replied, “you’re back sooner than I expected. What has changed?”

“We found out we had what we needed all along,” Esther replied. “Right, Herbert?” 

Herbert reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of cloth. He unwrapped the panther figurine.

“The artifact,” Maushop’s voice rolled like a bowling ball down the alley. 

Herbert left the others beside the ficus and crossed the field in silence. Starlight hovered next to him as he approached the decrepit gravestone on the far end, opposite the waiting giant. He held up the panther figurine in his hand, but stopped just before placing it on the headstone. Staring at the figurine, he realized how much the thing had scared him before. But he never simply stopped to examine and appreciate its beauty. Its black marble patterns and gemstone eyes shimmered in the daylight. How could something that caused him so much regret and pain be so beautiful now?

He didn’t know what to expect, or even what an Army of Bones looked like, but the act of placing the figurine back where it obviously hadn’t been for hundreds of years left him with an unbearable feeling. It felt so sacred and surreal; it felt like fear. He closed his eyes and prayed. The rest of the group, still waiting under the ficus, wondered if something was wrong. Marian took a step forward, ready to help, but just then Herbert opened his eyes and shoved the eight-point star into the hole. 

A raspy, clicking motion came from inside the headstone, as if the cairn were actually hollow, full of machinery. Herbert stepped back, and the earth below his feet shook. He was reminded of the forest gate opening just before the base of the headstone splintered and cracked down the middle. The panther figurine fell from the grave, and Herbert picked it up.

“Live again,” Maushop whispered, and a tear ran down his cheek. 

A skeleton arm ripped out of the earth. Millipedes and earthworms wiggled through the digits, dirt dripped off the forearm, and the arm wagged about before grabbing Herbert’s sneaker. He fell to the ground and screamed. Another hand ripped up beside his head and clawed at the earth, trying to free itself from its earthly jailhouse. 

“Herbert!” Marian screamed as she and Aaron ran after him. 

The hand let go of Herbert’s foot. It wanted to dig out the earth instead of hold on to him. Aaron and Marian rushed to his side and helped him to his feet. All around them, dirt clods flew through the air, skeleton appendages burst from the ground, and dull moaning and groaning emitted from the earth below like a zombie anthem. The children imagined hundreds, if not thousands, of skeletons were waiting to rip through the ground. 

Herbert, Marian, and Aaron raced back for Esther. She hobbled alone on her only good foot to no avail; repeatedly, losing balance from the earth’s vibration, falling over and picking herself up, only to fall over again. She felt helpless, and terror stained her face. 

The group pummeled through rockets of dirt and grass hitting the sky, and skeleton digits arching left and right through the air. Enough of the dirt hurled through the air now that full skeletons were emerging from the soil and hobbling about the field. They stumbled through the grass, dug out their lost appendages, and helped others escape the soiled prison. Dirt, grass, and insects fell through their hollow insides as they staggered on their rickety legs. Herbert sprinted past a skeleton struggling to attach its lower jaw to its face. Marian noticed one using a hand it found to brush a dead grasshopper off its teeth. Aaron tripped over a femur that was being used by a legless skeleton to drag to its other extremities. He used his machete to whack away one holding its own skull in its hands like a basketball and shaking a colony of angry fire-ants off of it. The skeleton bounced away clumsily and screwed its skull to its spine. The field was alive with dead people. 

The three of them united with Esther under the ficus and cowered behind one of the felled branches. Two hundred skeletons emerged from the earth, collected themselves together, and crossed the bahia field to the grave. 

Herbert closed his eyes. “I’ve done it again,” he whispered. “It’s all my fault.”

Starlight tapped him on the shoulder, but he kept his eyes shut. She flew in front of his face and poked him in the eye. 

“Ow!” He opened his eyes, and she pointed feverishly at the field. 

He focused on the skeletons and saw muscles, tendons, and marrow form around their bones. Veins and arteries snaked their way up around the skeleton from the feet to the skull. A piece of red flesh pulsated at the center, under the sternum. It burst open, and he thought for a moment it exploded, but realized it was the heart pumping blood into the arteries and out all over the muscles and bones. Just as he feared the blood would drip out all over the grass, the skin formed and laced itself over the back, stomach, thighs, and face. 

The skeletons weren’t skeletons anymore. They were fully formed people. An army of two hundred standing in the field before the grave. They looked at one another in bouts of confusion and awe, speaking an incomprehensible language. Marian covered Herbert’s eyes when she realized they were naked.

“My little people,” Maushop cried. The giant knelt before the crowd and wept. “I had lost you, my little people.” His face kissed the ground before them. “But now you are alive again.” 

The crowd of newly formed people left the grave behind and approached the giant. Many were laughing and giggling as they climbed onto his back and hugged him. He stood to his feet, with many clutching hold of his shoulders and waist.

“And now I can serve you again,” his voice boomed. “Let me find a home for you to belong.” The giant strode forward and in two powerful steps stood at the fallen ficus, towering over the children. The four kids dashed out of the way, bewildered as just you and I would be by all of this. 

They watched the two hundred laugh, skip, dance and sing, following their hero into the forest, down to the riverbank. One giant booming step at a time. The company teemed with joy and excitement, jumping and cheering in another language. 

Just before Maushop left her view, Marian caught a glimpse of a small woman sitting on the giant’s shoulder. Her hand stroked his massive neck, and her head rested on his ear-lobe.

“Squannit is alive again,” she said, smiling. 

“That’s his wife, right?” Aaron asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I don’t know what we just did,” Herbert said. “But I’m glad we did it.”

---

---

As Big as a Giant

Chapter 16

---

That evening, Mrs. Dolor took Esther to the hospital, while Mr. Dolor stayed behind with Marian and Herbert. After a late supper, Herbert made his way upstairs to his room on the third floor. Dark and still, the room felt small and unremarkable compared to the vast and beautiful forest he had spent his day in. He threw his stained and sweaty clothes on the floor and pulled a pair of Godzilla pajamas over his head. A dim green light was flickering beneath the pile of clothing.

Herbert rushed to free Starlight from the little mountain of apparel. “I’m sorry, Starlight,” he said. She touched her chin and spread her palms out at him, gesturing playfully. He smiled and wished she were the same size as him so he could hug her. It was nice to not be alone in his room.

He sat down at his writing desk in the corner, and she fluttered to the top of it. 

“I’m sorry we never found your home, Starlight,” he said. “But you can always live here.” 

She nodded and smiled, before looking around the room, and scrunching her face up like she smelled something bad. It wasn’t quite the forest she grew up in. She conceded no better option, shrugged her shoulders, and walked around the top of the drawer. 

“The girls have a pet, so it’ll be nice to have someone of my own,” Herbert said, before looking down and making sure he didn’t offend the fairy. She didn’t seem to notice what he implied. She, of course, was no pet. Instead, Starlight was walking to the back of the writing desk and pointed at a small drawer.

“Oh, that,” Herbert said. 

He pulled the drawer open and removed the broken panther figurine he had hidden away a week ago. His thumb brushed across the delicate sharp teeth on the granite figurine, before placing it in front of Starlight. It was about the same size as her. She placed her hands on the head of the granite figurine and pet the stone hair, like she was brushing it back.  

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Herbert asked.

She nodded and smiled at him. Her gentle hands ran down the back of it, where the tail should have been. The figurine didn’t have a back end, though. Herbert assumed he had broken it off, but the fairy discovered the back end of the figurine wasn’t broken at all; eight sharp points were jutting out like a star. She glanced back-and-forth at Herbert and pointed to the figurine. 

He laid his head on the desk, despondent. “But it’s not pretty,” he mumbled. “It’s all my fault that the monsters are out. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to Dad now. Esther’s hurt. Mom’s mad. And skunk-apes are all over town. And I did it. And I let Esther take the blame, too. And now’s she hurt because of it. I suppose I could show you to Mom and Dad—but who knows what they would say or do if they found a fairy? Good luck, it’s not sticking you in some science experiment instead of listening to us.” 

He sighed and watched the emerald fairy dancing on the desk. He reached for the panther figurine next to her. She lunged forward, pulling at his thumb, and tried to show him her discovery. He shook his hand free and wiped a tear from his eye before reaching for the thing with his other hand. Starlight flew into the air, pointing feverishly at the panther figurine. 

“Starlight, your light is too bright,” he said. “I can’t see what you are trying to say. Can’t you dim it?” 

Knock. Knock.

Herbert jerked his head toward the bedroom door. He tossed the panther figurine into the trash bin next to his desk, and Starlight flew behind a stuffed-bear on his bed. The door creaked open and Mr. Dolor entered. 

“Herbert?” He stuck his head in and flicked the light on. “Why are you sitting in the dark, son?” 

“Hi, Dad,” Herbert answered.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Mr. Dolor crossed the room and sat on Herbert’s bed, noticing the tears in his son’s eyes. He grabbed a stuffed raccoon and put in under his elbow, not noticing the little green fairy dashing across the bedspread behind him. 

“I missed you today, son,” Mr. Dolor said. 

“I know,” Herbert replied. “Mom said you made a tree-house for us. That’s really neat. I’m sorry we weren’t here—”

“No,” Mr. Dolor interrupted. “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s my fault. I’ve been away at the office too much. And you have been trying to get used to a new town. It’s not your fault I’ve been gone and suddenly show up.”

Herbert frowned and looked down.

“But don’t worry,” Mr. Dolor continued, “I think some things are in the works, so I don’t have to be gone from the house as much.” 

The two sat in silence for what felt like half an hour, but was probably only thirty seconds.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Mr. Dolor asked. “Why are you so upset, sitting in the dark and not talking? You’re not acting like my adventurous young man, Herb.” 

“It’s nothing,” Herbert answered quickly, staring at the floor.

“Son…” Mr. Dolor dropped to the floor and knelt before Herbert. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

Herbert looked at his father. Dad always gave him strength. 

“I did something bad,” Herbert said. 

“Okay,” Mr. Dolor listened.

“And I let someone else take the blame. It doesn’t matter anymore—I guess—what I did, but I just feel gross.” 

A smirk crossed Mr. Dolor’s lips briefly. His eyes were caring. “That’s called integrity, Herbert.”

“Integrity?” 

“Integrity is when something you’ve done eats at you until you fix it. What do we always say Herbert: Quick to apologize—”

“—quick to forgive,” Herbert recited.

“If you done something wrong, you need to apologize, Herbert. Integrity is everything, son. It’s as big as a giant that you can never really get past. Be the same, whether someone is looking or not. Always remember that.” 

Herbert furrowed his brow and sucked his lips. 

“But Herbert, remember something else,” Mr. Dolor said. He lifted his arm to Herbert’s shoulder. 

Herbert looked up at him.

“Someone else took all the blame before, too. And He did it so that you don’t have to beat yourself up forever. Forgive yourself. And remember that your father is proud of you. Always.”

Herbert looked down at the trash bin next to him.

---

The next morning, Herbert felt awful when he discovered Esther had a line of sutures down her lower calf and ankle, but he was happy she was okay. Mr. Dolor had carried her into their new tree-house so she could play with him and Marian. Herbert was coloring a picture next to Starlight while Esther read her book about talking bunnies. Marian held the logbook tight against her chest, wishing she could figure out what they did wrong. She noticed Aaron riding his bicycle in circles in front of the Dolor’s house. 

“Aaron!” She hollered from the tree. His bike turned and entered the yard. 

He threw the bike into the grass and grabbed the two-by-four nailed into the trunk of the tree. His elbows appeared over the floor of the treehouse and he lifted himself up. The Dolors smiled when they saw him. 

“Anyone else wake up thinking they dreamed all of that?” Aaron asked, catching his breath. He looked at the green fairy walking in the middle of the treehouse and smiled. 

“It’s funny,” Esther agreed. “Something about not being there anymore makes it feel like we never were.” 

“What should we do?” Marian asked the group.

Starlight stood on Herbert’s sneakers and tugged at his coloring book. He looked at her, and she scolded him, pulling her wagging finger out. 

“Ess,” Herbert said.

“Yes?” She replied.

“I need to confess something.” Tears formed around his eyes, and his bottom lip quivered. “I let you take the blame for opening the gate. But it’s not true.”

“Oh?” Esther said.

Herbert pulled the panther figurine from his pocket. “I broke this off the gate,” he explained. “That’s when everything started erupting. And when the gate swung open.  And when the monsters came out. I don’t think you really did anything. You both said we shouldn’t touch it or try to get in, but I broke this off the wall.” 

He handed Esther the figurine, and a tear fell off his nose. Marian put her hand on his shoulder.

Aaron pursed his lips and sighed. “I’ve been rotten to you guys since you moved here,” he said. The siblings looked at him. “You’re good friends. I just—” He frowned and looked at the floorboards. “I don’t have many friends like you guys. I’m sorry for being so mean to you, Herbert, and for fighting with you, Marian.” 

“Friends fight,” Marian smiled at him. “We forgive you.” 

Starlight fluttered up to Aaron’s cheek and kissed him. 

“Hey!” He said, “I don’t know about all that kinda stuff. I just needed to say sorry, too.” 

“Herbert!” Esther seemed distracted from all the apologies and was far more interested in the panther figurine. “Where did you say you got this?”

“I broke it off the wall next to the gate,” he replied.

“I don’t think it’s broken, Herb,” she said. “Look at this end—Herbert, I think you found the artifact that goes to Ponce de León’s grave!”

“What?” Herbert asked.

“Look!” 

The children peered over Esther and looked at the piece of granite. The eight-point star looked identical to the missing piece from the gravestone. 

“We need to go back!” Marian hollered. “—Oh, but Esther, your leg.”

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried!” She grinned and stood to her feet. 

---

---

The Way Back

Chapter 15

---

The children were not excited to leave, but no one had any better ideas, and it was now dusk. Mom and Dad would be searching and calling for them. The way back seemed less inspirational than the way forward. The sky turned gray and the mosquitoes and gnats bit at the children. Trees lacked their luster, and the birds whispered. Even Starlight, who fell asleep on Herbert’s shoulder, seemed less magical as her glow faded. Herbert glanced at her every few minutes to remind himself she was not his imagination. 

The further they traveled from Maushop, the more they doubted why they traveled through the forest. “Stupid game,” Aaron said at one point, and Marian wondered if it were all make-believe. Balaam was real enough. Starlight, too. But did they really meet a Ghost that sent them on this journey?

Balaam showed the way around the swamp, through the brambles that they insisted on avoiding. It was funny how quickly they passed the thicket. No one saw any ticks, and only one of them (Herbert) got a cut from a thorn. 

Night fell when they reached the limestone bridge over Weeper’s Run. Esther remembered her conversation with the creepy Top-Hat Man and shuddered. Herbert smiled when he thought of Pascal. “He talked funny,” he muttered under his breath. 

At nightfall, they ascended the cliff. The tall trees disappeared, and the moonlight reflected off the white sand. At the top of the ravine, Esther caught a dim glance of the orange markings over Weeper’s Run when Balaam came to a stop.

“I think it’s time I left you children,” he said. 

“What?” Marian asked. 

“No,” Herbert said.

It hadn’t occurred to any, until just then, that Balaam wouldn’t be able to come home with them. He was his own person and belonged at his home in the forest.

“I’ll take you down to the edge of the hill,” he said, and looking at Esther, added, “so you don’t have to go as far.”

Another three-hundred yards and they were at the bottom, under the cover of the pines, and walking along the soft needles. Herbert chuckled when he remembered how easy the beginning was.

“I appreciate the opportunity to walk with you children, fine group you are indeed,” Balaam said. “Though I’m sure you are happy to be rid of me anyway,” he smirked.

“Oh, Balaam!” Marian cried. 

The four children wrapped their arms around the donkey and kissed him a thousand times. 

“Hee-haw,” Balaam whispered, and a tear fell from his long face. 

“We will never forget you, Balaam,” Marian said.

“You saved my life,” Esther said while Aaron helped her off his back. “You saved all of us. You will always be our hero.” 

“I’m going to name my kid after you, Balaam.” Herbert smiled and squeezed his neck one last time. 

“Thanks for being our friend,” Aaron said and wiped his face, trying his best not to show his tears in the moonlight. 

“I’ll never forget you, children,” Balaam said. “Well,” he straightened his back. “Better time than never to get started going nowhere.” 

The children smiled and watched the donkey disappear up the hill. They continued on their own way, Aaron helping Esther along, slowly and surely, down the bed of pine needles. The moonlight disappeared behind the tall trees and they huddled close together. All was quiet, the trees were still, and nothing stirred. Fear would have gotten a hold of them if not for a familiar voice they heard in the darkness far behind them. “Ugh, I always hated crossing sand,” came Balaam’s voice, and it made the children giggle.

The gate wasn’t too far from them, but their pace dragged because of Esther’s ankle. Herbert stared at the pine trees overhead, looming like giants. He wondered if he had ever even seen a giant before. 

“Almost there,” Aaron said. “See that piece of coquina—that’s the piece I pointed out on the way in.” 

---

When the children stepped from the forest, through the open gate, into the Dolor’s backyard, they felt the odd sensation of stepping onto foreign land. For a half second, they thought houses were an oddity and fresh-cut grass an absurdity. But the wave of “normal” poured over them like a cup of lukewarm water. It felt pleasant to be home, safe to be back, but abhorrently uneventful. 

The group met under the live oak and to their surprise a tree-house was inside of it. “I don’t remember that being there this morning,” Marian said, pointing. 

Slam! 

The back-porch door had opened and slapped shut, though it didn’t close properly because the latch was broken. Mrs. Dolor was standing in front of it, furious. Starlight woke up from the sound and shimmied down to Herbert’s shirt pocket, afraid. Aaron hollered his goodbye and ran to his bicycle perched on the side of the house. He took off before any of the Dolor children said a word. The Dolors couldn’t take their eyes off their mother for their own safety.

“Where have you been!” She hollered in the sort of way adults do when they don’t want an answer, but just want you to know they are mad. “You’ve been gone all day—without a word—oh, goodness, Esther, what happened to your leg—where have you been—all of you are filthy—look at all your cuts and scrapes—Ugh! Get inside!”

Mrs. Dolor was quite upset, but calmed down a little once all three of her children were safe inside their home.

“Where did you three go?” Mrs. Dolor asked again. Esther was sitting on top of the table while her mother examined her leg. Iodine and gauze were next to her.

“We were playing in the woods behind our house,” Marian said. “I’m sorry, Mom. We lost track of time.” 

“Who was that boy?” 

“His name is Aaron,” Herbert said. “He goes to school with us.” 

“Aaron,” she repeated to herself, like she wanted to memorize it. “Is he a good boy?” 

Marian, Esther and Herbert looked at each other, unsure for a moment how to answer. 

“Yeah,” Marian said. “He’s our friend.” 

“Well,” Mrs. Dolor said, “I’m glad you are making friends.” She poured a sizable amount of iodine down Esther’s leg. Esther clenched her teeth and winced. “You know your father was home all day. He wanted to spend the day playing with you.” 

“Oh,” Marian said, while Mrs. Dolor softly wiped the iodine off Esther’s leg.

“He spent the entire day making a tree-house for you out back.” Mrs. Dolor had that look in her eye that all mothers know how to give. It’s that glance that makes you feel disappointment even though they don’t have to say it.

“I’m sorry,” the children said.

“Don’t say ‘sorry’ to me,” Mrs. Dolor replied. She dropped her hands to the table and looked into Esther’s eyes. “Young lady, your leg looks horrific. Cleaning it has only shown—this is really awful. What happened? We need to go to the doctor tonight for stitches. I hope they don’t want you to stay overnight.” 

---

---

Giant Obstacles

Chapter 14

---

“Well, that’s not something you see every day,” Balaam remarked.

The children looked at him, inquisitively. Being their guide, the kids assumed Balaam knew about any and all peoples, terrain, fauna, and foliage in the forest. So when he was just as shocked as they were by things, it continued to confound them.

“What?” he asked. “You think every talking donkey has seen a real life giant?”  

“What do we do now?” Esther asked.

“We are like ants to him,” Aaron said.

The group didn’t move, and the giant remained still. Herbert thought about the last time he killed an ant and shivered. He felt a tug on his shirt and looked to see the green fairy fluttering next to him. She was very perturbed by something. He couldn’t help but imagine how Starlight must look at him. To her, he was the giant. And this enormous man in the field was a skyscraper. And to him, Starlight was smaller than a gnat. 

He held out his hand, and she landed on it. While waving her arms over her head in big oval shapes, she pointed at the giant behind her. She stamped her feet, tapped her toes, and wagged her index finger at him. Then she pointed at the giant again and stuck her tongue out. 

Herbert looked at the giant and back to her. “You know him, Starlight?” 

The green fairy crossed her arms and nodded her head, defiantly. 

“And you don’t like him?” 

The fairy shook her head. 

“He is the one who took your home?” 

Her composure faded. She looked sad and dropped her arms to her sides. He brought his hand to his shoulder, and she climbed off and sat next to his neck with her head down. 

“How are we supposed to get passed him?” Marian muttered under her breath.

“Maybe he is a friendly giant?” Esther offered.

“Are you kidding me?” Aaron asked. “Look at those angry eyes and stiff face. Looks just like my mom.” 

“Starlight doesn’t seem to like him,” Herbert said.

“We need to find another way,” Marian said. 

“Yeah,” Aaron agreed, “Sneak in behind somehow.”

Herbert winced. He didn’t like the idea of sneaking around a giant that could crush him like a bug. 

“There is no other way any of us could ever get passed a thing like that,” Aaron said.

“That’s not true—” said Esther. “I know a story about a boy who killed one with only a stone and a slingshot—” (That’s another great story, but you’ll have to ask your Mom and Dad about it.) “—but I still think he might be friendly.”

“What should we do, Balaam?” Marian asked.

“I don’t know if I have a good answer,” he responded.

“You come have conversation with Maushop,” the giant bellowed and waved his hand. 

Have you ever heard someone enter a door behind you? Your ears flair up and move backward, the hair stands up on your neck, and sometimes even your spine tingles. This was the exact sensation all four children felt as the booming voice of the giant came over them. 

Marian stepped forward, and the others followed. The giant lowered his head and examined the teeny children. They felt his immense eyes rolling over each of them. His foot lay upright on its heel, in the middle of the field, seven-feet high. As they crossed under its shadow, Marian’s heart rose to her esophagus and she held her breath. The giant’s gaze fell on them like a tower with eyes. Splash! His left arm dumped into the spring behind the brick wall, scooped up a handful of water, and splashed his face.

“Do you know me?” The giant asked, and Marian felt the wind from his hot breath.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she replied, “but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

The giant leaned back like he was in deep thought. “Long time ago,” he sighed, “everyone knew Maushop.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Maushop,” Marian said, and the others haphazardly agreed. 

“I brought the fishes and the whales,” the giant continued. “And gave plenty to the little people. In the morning, they never worried about what they would do by nightfall, because Maushop provided.” 

“Well, what happened to the little people?” Marian asked. 

Maushop smiled and looked down at her. “What is your name, little princess?” 

“Marian. Marian Dolor.” 

“Dolor children,” Maushop said to himself. The giant looked away, and the kids wondered if they displeased him. Aaron looked around the giant’s waist and saw a blind spot he could dart to and sneak around. 

Maushop looked back at the children. “If the gate is ever broken,” he said, “I protect that which cannot be destroyed.”

“Do you mean the Fountain?” Esther asked. 

He nodded. 

The green fairy grew agitated, waiting on Herbert’s shoulder. She stood up and fluttered her wings as fast as a bumblebee. Her wings took her high into the air where she pulsated her green light at the giant. The children imagined she said very choice words in her fairy language. 

It’s been said that giants and fairies don’t get along very well. Something about fairies’ love of color and light irritates giants; and fairies consider the slow old-timey repose of giants as oafish. Maushop had taken Starlight’s home around the Fountain, which especially made her cross with him.

“Bees and houseflies,” Maushop swatted his hand at the air in front of him. “Get this thing away from me.”

“Starlight!” Herbert hollered, scared the giant might kill her. The giant’s backhand swooped passed the fairy, and the wind blew her toppling head over heels. Her wings caught the air before she crashed on the ground, and she feverishly retreated to Herbert’s side. “Careful!” Herbert hollered, but he didn’t know if he was yelling at the fairy or the giant. 

“Ugly bright lights and nasty buzzing,” Maushop said to himself. “I miss the ocean.”

“The ocean?” Esther asked. “Is that where you are from?” 

“Why don’t you head back there?” Aaron smirked. “We can look after the Fountain.”

“Maushop lived far away from here, long ago,” the giant said. “I had a wife in the cold places by the ocean. And no—you cannot protect the Fountain. Only the artifact can.” 

Esther sat up on Balaam’s back. She winced when her ankle hit the donkey’s side. “Where is your wife now?” She asked.

Maushop smiled, but looked sad. “The Wendigo killed her. And all the little people, too.” Maushop looked at the spring and submerged his hand under it again. Water bellowed over the edges of the walls and drenched the grass around the children. His other hand lunged into the air and made a fist. He thrust his fist down and smashed the earth beside them, angrily. The forest shook, trees rattled, and every bird nearby took to the air, squawking and fleeing. The children fell down, and Balaam struggled to keep Esther on his back.

Maushop raised his hand from the earth. A crater of rock and dirt remained in its place. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

 “Oh no, we are used to monster’s trying to kill us by now,” Aaron sneered. 

“Maushop,” Marian said, “I’m sorry about your wife—”

“Her name was Squannit,” he said.

“Squannit,” Marian repeated. “I’m sorry about Squannit.” 

Maushop sighed, and the children wondered what he may do next. Esther and Marian looked at one another. 

“Say something,” Esther mouthed.

Marian looked back at the giant. “Maushop,” she said, “we’ve come to find the Fountain of Youth.”

“I know Dolor children,” he replied. “But I only move for the one who controls the Army of Bones.” The children glanced at one another, confused. “Maybe that’s you one day, but its not you today.”

“I don’t understand,” Marian said.

“I do,” Aaron replied. “This whole stupid journey was pointless. We aren’t getting passed him, there’s no way to close the gate, and where in the world is the Ghost? He said he would be here and now we’ve done this for no reason.”

“The logbook?” Herbert said, and Marian nodded. She pulled her backpack from her shoulder.

“Balaam,” Esther asked, “do you know anything?”

“Esther,” he replied, “I wish I knew more, but I only know what I’ve been given. Sir Juan Ponce de León ordered me to walk with you. I never knew where or why.” 

“He didn’t tell you what we were doing?” Esther asked. 

“Only that it mattered,” Balaam responded. “And I suppose that was good enough for me.” 

“There’s nothing new in the logbook,” Marian sighed. “It’s still just a hairy foot and the words el gigante.” 

“Imagine finding the Fountain of Youth, and not being able to do anything about it,” Aaron complained. “We discovered something no one has ever found before, and we can’t even drink from it.” 

“Everyone wants something to make them live forever,” Maushop said, “But they don’t want to die to receive it.” He raised his hand from the water. A waterfall dumped from his palm and hairy arm, splashing the spring. The children watched his enormous hand floating in the air, pointing behind them. Their eyes followed it to a cairn of sandstone on the other side of the field. 

The children and Balaam crossed the field to examine it. It was clearly ancient. Wind and rain wiped away the inscription on it and rubbed the edges weak and round. Herbert imagined nudging it would cause it to fall over. At its center, a hole showed the outline of an eight-point star. It seemed as if someone had ripped something from the stone years ago, leaving the mark.

“What is it?” Esther asked.

“That is the grave of Sir Juan Ponce de León,” Maushop called from the other side of the field. “Out of it came the artifact. He who controls the artifact, controls the Army of Bones.”

“Juan Ponce de León is buried in Puerto Rico!” Aaron hollered back.

“And I’m sure his Ghost told you that, too,” Balaam remarked, and Aaron pursed his lips. 

“What does this all this mean?” Herbert asked.

“It means we failed,” Marian said, and the others looked at her confused. “Whatever we did, we did it wrong. Maybe it’s because of the swamp. If we went the right way, maybe we could have found the artifact. But now we are here, and we have no way of continuing. Maushop won’t move, and whatever this artifact is—sigh—I don’t know.” She dropped her head.

Balaam butted her with his head. “You have done more in your little life than others will before they are old and die. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Not everything works out how we wished, but at least we tried. And that is something not everyone can say they did.” 

Marian smiled and hugged him. Balaam felt tears on his mane. 

---

---

A Rest on the Bank

Chapter 13

---

The sun pierced through the leaves and for the first time in hours, the children saw the blue sky over the black, murky forest. They worried their journey had taken them into the night, and—what are Mom and Dad thinking back home!—but discovered that the forest was dense enough to trick their senses. Though late afternoon was upon them, it was still early enough that Mrs. Dolor hadn’t called for suppertime. 

When they exited the shadows, they laughed at one another’s appearances. Mud, dirt, and scratches everywhere. Brown filth smeared Herbert’s glasses, which he realized caused most of his trips and stumbles. One of Esther’s pig tails hung completely loose and tattered on her shoulder. Aaron’s jacket, which he tore up to help Esther, looked ridiculous covering only half of his body. And a large glob of mud stuck out on the center of Marian’s forehead, like a goofy unicorn.

“Best to get you monstrosities clean,” Balaam remarked, who looked the best of all of them. He led them to the western shore of a blue freshwater river. They were several miles southeast from where they crossed Weeper’s Run on Pascal’s bridge, which happened to connect to this much larger river that Balaam said had two names, The Pactolus or The River Rinkling. Here, on the southeast end of the swamp, the river broadened into a large placid lake, one mile in diameter, beside a meadow full of marigolds, before pivoting into a thin run under the caring arms of live oaks in the far south.

Marian and Aaron helped Esther off of Balaam’s back and placed her in the shallows on a pebbled bank. She carefully removed the tourniquet and let the water dab the wound. The cold water stung at first, but did wonders to clean it out and numb the pain. The rest of the party, disgusting and soaked through by the hot swamp, waded out into a deeper part of the lake and submerged themselves, scrubbing and shuffling around to get the clean water in every nook and cranny. Its freezing chill soothed their faces, arms, legs, and aching feet.

The water was clear and brisk. With the right sunlight underneath, the eye could see hundreds of feet in every direction, even the cavernous bottom that lay one-hundred-fifty feet below. Bluegills and bream skirted through bladderworts and pondweed. Mullet and carp hovered, nearly motionless, sifting through the sand and grass on the banks. And fat bass and catfish surveyed the roots and algae for easy prey. Common snapping turtles and sliders skated the current like fighter pilots, spinning and turning on a dime. Anhingas and cormorants dive-bombed into the water, snatching up bream, while herons, egrets, spoonbills, storks, kingfishers, and sandpipers patrolled the bank for minnows and shiners.

Esther leaned forward in the shallow water and stuck her face into the world below. Bur marigolds outstretched into the water and surrounded her hands and face in bright yellow beauty. She plucked one that waited underwater and brought it to the surface. The thing smelled extraordinary, like she was in a nursery surrounded by thousands of flowers.

After a long bath, Herbert squatted on the bank, between a grove of cattails and sawgrass, where he had let his fairy-friend rest. She was awake now, dusting off her delicate, transparent wings. Herbert sat on a large stone and held out his palm for her to climb onto. 

She stood only a few inches high and wore a similar dress as the fairy Esther met when first entering the forest—which you will remember was made of grass and bark. But her entire body dimly glowed green and translucent like emerald. She shimmered in the sunlight, unfolding and stretching her wings in its hot rays, before fluttering them like a dragonfly. The pocket hadn’t been the most comfortable place to rest, but it did the job.

“My name is Herbert,” he said.

The green fairy didn’t know how to speak English, but seemed to understand him. She bowed and smiled at him. 

“We’ve traveled far while you rested,” Herbert said. “We aren’t anywhere near the swamp now. Do you have a home or family waiting for you?”

The green fairy frowned and shook her head. She spread her delicate arms wide over her head, making a big oval. Then she tapped her toe and wagged her finger like a schoolteacher. She put her palms up and shrugged. 

“Well, until you find them, you can stay with me,” Herbert said. “I’ll look after you since you looked after us.” 

The green fairy smiled and fluttered to his shoulder. She nudged her silky golden hair between the crook in his neck and leaned against him.

“Starlight,” Herbert said. “I’ll call you Starlight.” 

The fairy smiled and closed her eyes, content.

After the children finished cleaning off and Balaam moseyed out of the water, Aaron stood on the bank like he wanted to preach a sermon. “I hate to bring it up,” he said, “because of everything we’ve been through. But what are we doing?”

“Do you mean where are we going?” Marian asked, squeezing her hair free of fresh, clean water. 

“We are going to the Fountain of Youth.” Balaam declared, and caught Marian’s smirk. 

“Yeah, I know that.” Aaron paced back and forth by the water. “But with everything we’ve been through now—” 

“I know,” Marian whispered.

“I don’t,” Herbert said. “What are the two of you talking about?”

“They think it’s better to give up,” Esther said.

“Give up?” Herbert said, shocked. “And go back through that?”

“Not give up,” Marian said.

“Maybe,” Aaron interjected.

“We just got through that horrible swamp, and now you want to go back?” Herbert asked again, shocked.

“Are there other ways back to the entrance, Balaam?” Marian asked.

“There’s many ways back,” Balaam replied, “but few ways forward.”

“Why should we give up?” Herbert asked. “We are almost there.”

“You don’t know that, Herbert,” Marian said. “Esther’s injured. It’s getting late. Mom and Dad may be worried.” 

“Mom and Dad are in trouble!” Herbert said, and the entire group was silent. There were many things for the four of them to think about while on the shore. It was so lovely and relaxing, and they had just survived perhaps the most dangerous moment in their collective lives. But all of them had let themselves forget about the broken gate and mystical creatures on the loose in their town. All except Herbert, who in the back of his mind was still wrestling with the fact that it was his fault the gate was broken to begin with. And he was especially thinking about Mr. Dolor’s new vampire boss. “They haven’t believed us yet! Why would they now?” 

“Herbert,” Marian said, “I only want to do what’s right. I’m trying to keep you two safe.” 

“Marian,” Esther said. “It’s not your fault I got hurt. It was that thing in the woods. We are all in this together.”

“We don’t even know what the fountain does,” Aaron said. “We think it’ll close the gate, but why would it? Let’s face it—all of us thought this would be a short journey. None of us thought it would be this dangerous. And now it’s been near impossible.”

“But what about Balaam?” Esther asked. “If Ponce de León didn’t believe in us, he wouldn’t have met us with Balaam at the entrance. We can do this. We can make it, right?” 

Marian looked at Balaam, who waited for the kids to finish discussing the matter. “Balaam,” she said, “what do you think? Ponce de León told us to follow you. Is it much longer?”

“Time is a hard thing to determine when you are complaining,” Balaam responded. “And I should know, I have one of you sitting on my back for the rest of the way—and you best be sure whatever direction we go, I’ll be annoyed.” He turned his long face and winked at Esther. “But I think we need to see this through to the end.”

“Esther,” Marian began.

“—Marian,” Esther interrupted her. “I’m okay. And I forgive you. So forgive yourself, and let’s get going.” 

In all honesty, Esther wasn’t doing too good. The other three helped her on the talking donkey before continuing their journey along the riverbank. Esther examined her foot as she rode on Balaam’s backside. The bleeding had stopped, but the veins on her calf shone through her skin purple and sprayed upward like spiderwebs. It stung just looking at it, so she pulled the tourniquet a little higher up and told herself not to look at it. But her stomach felt weak, and her thoughts scared her. 

The grassy meadow disappeared, and pebbles scattered across the bank, baking under the sun’s rich heat and blue sky. Blackbirds danced in the air, while hawks sailed a half-mile above them. Butterflies and dragonflies jolted about the side of the river, catching mosquitoes and grasshoppers. A sandhill crane took to the air when the group approached and squawked at them angrily. 

Esther lay her head on Balaam’s mane and closed her eyes, listening to the cackle of distant woodpeckers and swifts and the buzzing flies under Balaam’s nose. She missed running ahead and finding the next part of the path, but the calm repetition of Balaam’s lifting and dipping back lulled her. It reminded her of riding on her father’s back when she was smaller. He would gallop around the living-room and make her feel like a real cowgirl. She never imagined herself one day riding a donkey through an enchanted forest. She opened her eyes when she felt Balaam stop.

The party had gathered on the bank. From the water, an enormous mudslide smeared across the ground, west toward the tree-line. It connected to the woods where the forest trees laid on the ground in broken, smashed rubble, leaving a wide open path of felled oaks and pines. Something monstrous clearly came from the water and ripped the forest to shreds.

“Where are we going?” Balaam asked.

“Onward,” Marian replied.

The sun was yawning in the west. It cast a crimson sky into the children’s eyes as they stepped into the forest, under the shade of oak, cedar, and pine. They walked in silence across land cleared by some unimaginable, massive force. Trees and bushes lay everywhere, uprooted and thrown to the side. Wide, round root systems, four times as high as all of them, lay on their sides, stretching their gangling fingers into the sky. Their trees were felled in the forest with hundreds of others. It had left the woods ravaged. The birds perched in silence, but every deer, rabbit, and squirrel seemed to have abandoned the area for miles. The forest was standing still, except for the scurrying flutter of insects looking for cover as the group approached. On the children ventured, until they heard three distinct sounds echoing in the distance, behind the cover of a massive felled ficus.

The first sound dribbled like a stream trickling on a sheet of glass. The second sound whistled like wind through sawgrass. And the third thundered like a whispering storm. 

Splash…
Whistle…
Boom…

The band ducked under the ficus tree laying on its side. Its leaves and branches brushed their faces while they climbed through it sideways. Out from under its grasp, one by one, each child emerged. Aaron held a large branch up for Balaam and Esther to pass under. The group gathered itself and stood in awe.

The forest had cleared. Ash trees, water oaks, and pines lined a grand bahia field blowing in the wind. On the far side, a freshwater spring boiled into a river which filled up a pool inside of a stone wall six feet higher than Herbert’s head. Stone statues of men, women, and mythical creatures like unicorns, pegasi, fairies, piasi, urayuli, bakwas, skunk-apes, and pukwudgies on the top edge. At the front, a spout poured the spring water onto a thin sheet of glossy crystal. It trickled over its edges and into a shallow limestone fountain. 

They found it. There was no denying it. The Fountain of Youth sparkled before them. Each of them, in their own way, felt immense satisfaction for having made the journey. The problem was, they weren’t alone. 

The Fountain was the first sound they heard splashing. In front of the spring and fountain came the second and third sounds. It was the uneven inhale and exhale of a 45-foot-tall man laying upright in the field of bahia, leaning one elbow against the stone wall and dipping his fingers in the spring. 

His skin was dark olive, like a Native American. His black hair was tied in a twelve-foot-long ponytail behind his shoulders. He wore only a few strips of tanned leather around his waist and biceps. A necklace of enormous gems, rubies, and sapphires hung across his bare chest. His free arm draped across his bent knee, and his furrowed brow stared at the children who had just arrived. 

---