A Year of Stories: August Story

 Tales of Whispering Oaks

The Hunt for the Forgotten Cave

Draft_5

By: Chase L. Currie

(Disclaimer: I'll try to make this short . . .

I feel I must have a disclaimer to tell everyone what my idea for this blog is. It's getting to the point where there are a lot of posts and I fear the idea of the blog is getting lost. I am a young writer and I'm still trying to learn this art. Like any art, I love to hear constructive criticism about my work, which is why I am posting my earliest drafts of my writing. Some of these drafts I have only looked over once or twice at best, and they may not be the very best I can do, but nevertheless, I want to show them off.

I'm looking for constructive criticism while I'm working. I am also trying to show everyone my progress as I grow as an artist. Being an artist of any kind takes a lot of work and time to make your craft perfect. And I want to show everyone that a man with a learning disability and dyslexia can be a writer. I may not be the greatest writer in the world and I'm alright with that, but I can be a writer who inspires people to create. Even if I only inspire one person to become an artist, I want to inspire them because my friends and family have done that for me. They have never given up on me and I want to show them the gifts that God has given me.

So with that said, I hope you enjoy my work. I would love to hear your ideas on what you would do to make the writing better. Also, if a draft gets removed it's because I'm working on it or I feel like it doesn't need to be on my blog anymore. Thank you for your time, I know reading can take a while. So I thank you again.

With a handshake,

Chase L. Currie

I am not done working on this story. I need to edit it a lot more and change things around, but thanks to Caroline its close to being done. She made this story better than what is was before.)

“Music makes all the angels in Heaven dance for us.”

-Cameo Leaf-Claw, the Bard of Rose-Way-

In the land of Sherwood Forest,

On the border of Thorn-Wood Kingdom,

In a small town called Pine Wall,

Leon spins the tip of his small knife in front of him. The knife seem to be the only thing keeps his attention. He can't find anything else to do in this small and pointless town. He has been waiting in this inn, with a name he can't remember, for a couple of days. A secret police officer, a Whispering Hood, is after him because he is the realm’s greatest thief, or so he tells everyone.

The Hood in question is known to attack first and ask questions later, which is alright to Leon. He could use a little bit of action in is life right now; the excitement would kill his endless boredom. The longer he stayed still, the longer he is not fighting for his life, the more he thinks. Leon hates thinking about the past, and so he is spinning his knife on the tabletop hoping something will happen.

“Leon Black-Hood,” someone says, walking up to him. He looks up to a giant squirrel with fire burning in his eyes and his dark fur dirty from traveling on the road. Leon smiles, sitting back and putting his arms behind his head.

“Maybe” The tiny pale squirrel replies. His fur should be dark brown like most the folks in the inn, but it’s as if someone added a little too much white to his color, making the dark hue brown turn a pasty ghostly white hue with hint of brown. His dark red eyes quickly study the oversized brute in front of him. “Who look for me?” Leon ask, hoping it was not this squirrel.

“I am,” the brute growls, throwing the table across the room. Everyone stops talking and looks over their shoulders. “You stole my wife’s pearl necklace!” He accuses.

“I did?” Leon asks, rising an eyebrow in question, trying to remember if he did or didn't steal the necklace. “If I did, then how do you know it was me?”

“You left a note,” the squirrel says pawing him a small piece of paper that reads: Thanks for the necklace, Leon Black-Hood. At the end of the note is a small winking face.

“Right, right,” Leon grins, standing up and knowing he’s about to get the excitement he's been looking for. The brute grins looking down at how small Leon is and makes some remark about him being nothing more than a Chipmunk. Leon starts to back up, “I did steal it and, you see, if I had it would I give it back to you.”

“What did you do with it?” the squirrel growls furiously.

“Well,” Leon shrugs, hitting the wall of the inn, “this inn is not for free.”

“You sold my wife's family heirloom!” he yells.

“See, no one told me it was a family heirloom.” Leon smiles knowing this will not help calm the giant. Without a word, the giant squirrel swings a lumberjack's ax at Leon. The ax is mostly used to chop down the thorns in the Thorn-wood, it's the closest frost to the inn, which sadly means the head of the blade is sharpened by magic, even if magic is outlawed now. As the ax screams with the rage of its master, Leon ducks, rolls out of the way, and quickly jumps up on a table. He looks around seeing everyone move out of the way. The ax cutting a silver blur in the air. Leon guesses it to be another family heirloom, and he should have stolen it as well.

“Now, my friend,” Leon tries to say, “no need to get violent.” The ax falls through the air causing the tiny squirrel to jump from the table as it splits in two. The ax buries itself right into the floor. “Or we could fight. I like to fight, I had nothing else really planned for tonight.”

Before the raging brute can pull the ax head free Leon smashes him to the ground with a kick to the side of the head. The brute takes a moment to get back up, almost not believing a tiny thing like Leon can hit so hard, but the rage blinds him to the pain. He rushes at the black hood with a hasty charge, Leon jumps out of the way, planting a punch right to the side of his head. The giant squirrel falls to the side crashing through some more tables and chairs. He gets back up a little more dazed this time. He turns, readying himself to rush Leon again.

“Come on, my friend,” Leon says. “You can’t win this.”

The squirrel screams, rushing to tackle the little squirrel. Again Leon moves out of his way with little concern that he might get hit. When the raging brute passes him, he picks up a chair breaking it over his head and then knees the poor squirrel in the face.

The giant falls to the floor, out cold, and Leon turns to everyone watching. He smiles, stepping over his foe, and walks right up to the bartender. He pulls a bag of acorns onto the bar, and tells him to order a drink for everyone. He waits until everyone gets their drinks and then he steps outside, pulling his hood over his head and fading into the night. This night, Leon knows, he'll have to sleep in the woods. Which is alright to him, for he had stolen a few bags of acorn from the squirrels while they were drinking, leaving little notes pinned to their belts. It's best to get as far away from the town as possible before he has every half-drunk fool looking for him.

Leon finds a larger tree with small thorns shooting out from it not too far outside of town. He climbs up to the top, wrapping himself up in his cloak as the cold wind beats against him. He never looks away from the endless stars above his head. The angels dancing for him. He thinks about all the bards playing their songs throughout the land to cause the angels to dance so. He starts to miss home while he watches them; it's not really home he is missing but his friends. The road can be lonely sometimes for a thief always on the move.

He doesn't have a home, not like everyone else. Sure, he could go back to Well-Stone and live in the Palace, but that is not a life to him. He is not Prince like his father wanted him to be. The King, his lovely father, threw him out and told him when he learned what it was like to be a man, he could return. He learned more than his father will ever know.

He is happy to be up in a tree on a cold night, alone. Slowly he falls to sleep dreaming of his friends back home.

“Leon!” A voice yells up to him, and his eyes jump open making him blind by the rising sun. He almost falls out of the tree, but grabs on to one of the thorns to keep himself from dropping. He stands up slowly, making sure he is fully awake and looks down below.

There stand two squirrels of the same color, dark brown and black fur. One of them has bright swirling green tattoos around her left eye running down her face and under her cloth shirt. The other looks young, but is wearing an old red leather chest plate that has seen one too many nights outside. He holds a long wooden staff with a sheath at the bottom half. They both smile up at Leon as he rubs his eyes, not believing who he is seeing.

“Orwell? Cameo?” Leon yells back, shaking his head wondering if he is still dreaming.

“It's good to see you, Leon,” Cameo says, winking her eye that is surrounded by the colorful markings. They both smile as Leon climbs down from the tree and give them a big hug. He's not dreaming and he knows that now.

“What are you guys doing here?” Leon asks. “How did you find me?”

Orwell laughs and says, “You let everyone know that you took something from them. It's actually quite easy to find you.”

Cameo adjusts the wooden flute hanging from her back, moving her short sword over to another shoulder, while she says, “I'm surprised that you are not locked up by now.”

Leon smiles and says, “They have to catch me first, and then make a cage I can't get out of.”

“Indeed,” Orwell replies, “that is why we have come for you, my old friend.”

“What, to catch me?” Leon ask, dropping his eye brows down in a concerned look.

“No,” Cameo says, “to ask if you could help us steal something.”

“Oh really,” Leon says, looking at Orwell, not believing a Sword Saint would want to steal something. Leon remembers when Orwell joined the Cavalier Fencer of Well-Stone. The Knights of the kingdom. And then he went off to protect the Black Dragon Sea from Pirates, while his little sister Cameo went to college to become a bard. When the warrior came back he had changed, fighting does that to squirrels. He came back as a holy squirrel, sworn to the order of the Sword Saints. A class of warrior priests that fight against injustice and spread the loving words of the All-Father. Leon thought it was a noble life and was happy to see Orwell doing it. But he could never enjoy that kind of life, too dull for Leon. But now Orwell is asking Leon to steal something, that is more interesting than the tiny squirrel wants to admit.

“So what do you need me to steal?” He asks with a big grin on his face.

“Have you heard of Lord Talib Owl-Wing?” Orwell asks, flipping his old brown cloak to hide most of his body.

“Yeah, who hasn't?” Leon jokingly remarks, but he’s right. The three of them start heading away from the tree as the sun slowly rises in the sky. Orwell tells his friend what he needs him to do. Lord Owl-Wing is known for collecting rare and unusual artifacts, books, and items. He keeps them locked away in his castle where only a few are allowed to go. He walks among the stone hallways happy to have all the history of the world and the myths too. In fact, the Emperor of the land goes to Owl-Wing for information from time to time. Which is easy for him, since the Owl-Wing keep is not far from Whispering Oaks.

“There is a golden map in his keep,” Cameo says, keeping one paw on the butt of a pistol at her side. She has two pistols, one on each side, but the red cloak, a hallmark of Well-Stone, hangs over one shoulder, hiding the other weapon. “A map that has all the locations of hidden things within the realm . . .”

“Like the location of the Forgotten Cave,” Orwell says, smiling down at his friend.

“And?” Leon ask. “I mean, I get you want me to steal the map but what’s in the cave?”

“A music box,” Orwell says. “We need to get that box.”

Leon stops walking, looks at them both and starts to laugh. “Why in the world do you need a music box?!”

Orwell's face goes flat and he simply says, “Because I do. Are you going to help or not?”

“Of course,” Leon tells his friend trying not to laugh again. “If I don't, both of you might end up dead. I can't have that hanging over me forever.”

~

They travel mostly by day, but stay off the King's road. Leon told his friends it would be the best way and gave no other explanation. Two days later they arrive outside Traveler’s Haven, one of the largest cities in the land. It’s a city that sits between all the other three kingdoms. The city is welcome to all and has ambassadors from all the main kingdoms within the walls. It also happens to be the main city for most of the guild houses and trade.

Orwell tells the others he needs to stop by one of the churches to pick up some supplies, and asks them not to join him. Cameo doesn’t disagree, the city is a great place for her to make some acorn and Leon likes the city because there is always something to do. It's also easy for him to disappear in the crowds when he steals something here and there.

“Leon,” Orwell says a mile or so outside the circular wall of the city. “Please, don't get into any trouble here.”

“Trouble?” Leon asks, almost shocked at the word. “What fun would that be?”

“I mean it, my friend,” Orwell tells him, “you are traveling with a Sword Saint, which means there are things you can do and can't while I'm with you.”

“Great,” Leon says throwing his arms up, “I didn't know there were rules for hanging out with you.”

“Yes, you did,” Cameo says, punching him in the shoulder.

“Ouch,” Leon moans, rubbing his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess you are right. Fine, Orwell, I'll try not to get in to trouble. I'll try to keep the name of Leaf-Claw respectful.”

“Thank you,” Orwell says as they head over the hill to see the giant city before their eyes. It’s late in the day, and they know it'll take almost four hours to get into the city. The guards at the gate check everyone, the hundreds of squirrels coming and going. The gates are too small for more than thirty squirrels to enter and leave at the same time. And with several hundred trying to come in the city, it slow things down a ton. The gates are made for that purpose and that purpose alone. If the city was ever attacked, the invading army would have a hard time getting many troops into the city.

It is dusk before Leon, Cameo, and Orwell get into the city. They break off from the main road and step into one of the alleyways. They enter the poorest part of the city which still has stone roads. In all the other cities the poor are not so lucky for they get nothing but dirt for roads. The group breathes for a moment, taking time to make sure a pickpocket didn't take anything from them. They all seem to have everything they walked in with, which is a good sign.

Orwell is the first to say, “I'll meet you at the Singing Dragon in a couple of hours.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leon replies as Orwell heads down the alleyway. Leon looks over at Cameo who is smiling from ear to ear. Leon grins too, cocking his head a little, and asks, “What are you thinking?”

“Oh, that we should make some acorns while we are here, what you think?” Cameo asks.

“Sounds like a great time,” Leon tells her and they step back onto the main road, which is a little bigger then the gates. The roads do not widen until they get closer to the main part of the city where the market place is, which also has the best pubs and inns around. It was the perfect spot for Cameo and Leon to make some money. Cameo begins singing and plays her flute. She actually plays it well, and would have been the royal bard if she had not turned it down.

Meanwhile, Leon moves through the crowd taking a few acorns here and there. Most of the squirrels are taller than him, and don't pay much attention to someone so tiny. Some of them think he is a chipmunk with a hood pulled over its head, and would never imagine him to be a master thief. Cameo and Leon spend only an hour or so earning their money, and then they dash? away to the Singing Dragon.

This pub, a couple of blocks down from the main market place, is slow for the night. They enter the building sometime around dark almost hoping to see Orwell but he is nowhere to be found. So Cameo and Leon take a table in the corner where they can watch who comes and go. They order a drink for themselves and joke about old times.

“Your father,” Cameo says, “was so mad when he found out we were pulling one over on the crowd.”

“Yeah, he made me give back each and every acorn personally,” Leon says, taking a sip of his orange ale. “It was so painful to do.”

“Why did you give up your last name?” Cameo asks suddenly, almost whispering to her friend.

For a moment Leon didn't say anything to her, didn't even look over at her, but then he told her. “I didn't,” he says, if anyone would understand it would be her, or at least she would try to understand and not judge him. “My father took it from me, but to tell you the truth, I didn't care.” Leon looks over at her smiling. “I like being myself. No ties, no history, no legacy to live up to. It's nice just being me.”

“Would you ever go back? Home, I mean?” Cameo asks.

“Not if it meant I had to change who I am,” Leon says seriously.

Cameo looks at the fire place across from the room, telling him, “Sometimes we have to change, even if we don't want to.”

“What do you mean?” Leon asks rising an eye brow.

“You mean to tell me you wouldn't change, if it meant the safety of the squirrels in Well-Stone?” she asks.

“I don't know,” Leon says. “I haven't given it much thought, and I don't think I'll have to any time soon.”

“I hope not, Leon,” Cameo says, “but just remember growing up means you sometimes have to do what is right because it is right.”

“Is that why Orwell wants me to steal the map?” Leon asks, waving to the waitress for another drink. After the big old woman brings him another tall cup of orange ale, he looks over at Cameo for an answer.

“Something like that,” she says, not really wanting to talk about it.

“Look,” Leon says, “normally, I don't care why I'm stealing something as long as it is fun, but Orwell asking me to do it, well, means something is going on.”

“One of his friends,” Cameo quickly says, “is in debt with a Lord, and the Lord wants the box. That why he is doing it.”

“So what does this box do?” Leon asks.

“From my understanding,” Cameo says, “the box only plays music.”

“You are a bad lair.”

“I'm not lying,” she says, looking dead at him.

“What else does it do?”

“The music can trap fairies,” Cameo says, sighing.

“Fairies?” Leon says. “This Lord does know fairies are not in the land anymore right?”

“I don't know or care,” Cameo says, “we just have to get the - - -”

“Hello, Leon,” a dark cloaked squirrel says standing right in front of the table. Leon doesn't have to look up to know who it is. His voice is as dark as his black cloak. Leon was hoping Don the Dark Knife would have given up on his quest to find the thief. It has been weeks since he left that small town. Leon was hoping that was no trail for the Hood to track, but Whispering Hoods never give up. As a secret order of secret police they can't afford to let anyone make them look like fools.

Normally, the Hoods are looking for squirrel who practice magic against the law, which happens to be all magic, but this one is personally after Leon.

Leon throws his cup at Don and then flips the table while yelling for Cameo to run. She does, but only to get away from the scimitar splitting the table in two. Leon jumps from his seat, hitting the wall and then dashing under the swing of the scimitar. Don turns as fast as the little squirrel, stomping right on Leon's tail.

The thief screams out in pain as the curved blade of the sword falls to take off his head. The sword rings as it hits the metal of another steel. The Hood glances at Cameo as she holds her short sword with two paws. She didn't see the knee swing to nail her in the stomach, but she feels she sharp pain of impact. She falls back, not letting go of her sword and holding her stomach with the other paw. Don swings to take her out of the fight, but Leon is already moving to block the hit.

He catches the sword with his two axes and turns to Cameo quickly saying, “Get to the door now!” She takes off running as Leon blocks another attack from the Hood. It is easy for Cameo to get to the door for most of the squirrels in the bar had ran out when the fight started. She spins in the doorway yelling for Leon to get out of there. He moves his paw to his back, while fighting with the other one. He jumps away, dropping something behind him and suddenly the room fills with a thick black smoke no one can see through. Leon takes Cameo by the paw as they dash down the street.

“We have to find Orwell,” Leon says “Where is this church he went to?”

“This way,” Cameo says, pulling him down an alleyway.

They make it to a small church in the poorest part of the city, not too far from the gate. The church could maybe hold about twenty squirrels in it at any given time. The outside wall of the church looks like they haven't been painted in years, if not decades. They could see lights behind the stained glass windows of the church. Leon believes that the church must have spent all of its money on the windows alone, and for some odd reason are the only thing kept clean.

Cameo and Leon wait outside of the church hoping Orwell hasn't left yet. The idea was if the sun was coming up then they would return to the Singing Dragon to find him. It only takes two hours for Orwell to emerge from the church, smiling and waving goodbye to the old squirrels in the doorway.

Cameo waves her brother over to them and he sees the worry on her face, quickly sending him into a calm rage. He storms up to his friends, dropping his bag of supplies, looking dead at Leon and asking, “What did you do!?”

“Wow,” Leon says, holding his paws up, “way to jump to conclusions.”

“What did he do?” Orwell asks looking over at his sister.

Cameo eyes Leon and then her brother and quickly says, “There was a Hood after him.” Once the words fall from her mouth she looks away almost in shame, almost. She knows that Orwell needs to know about the Hood for it puts the quest in danger, but it feels wrong throwing Leon under the cart.

“Way to leave me out in the cold,” Leon remarks before Orwell can blow up on him.

“A Hood,” Orwell almost yells, pointing right at Leon. “I can’t believe there is a Hood after you, and you didn't tell us!”

“I didn't tell you because I didn't think he would find me,” Leon argues back, getting upset at Orwell pointing at him. It was something his father did when he was mad at Leon.

Orwell steps closer, trying very hard to control the rage building up inside. “What did you take?” Orwell yells. “What in the All-Father's name did you take?”

“It doesn't matter what I took,” Leon tells him, wrapping his cloak tighter around his small body.

“It does,” Orwell says, “and you'll give it back to him.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?” Orwell questions like his father would have done. “Did you sell it? Or did you lose it?”

“It doesn't matter what happened to it,” Leon snarls. “And what do you care? You are the one who is asking me to steal something, isn't that against your code? You can't be angry with the deed you are asking me to do when I do it all the time, and you know it!”

“It's different,” Cameo says.

“Why, because this is a part of growing up?” Leon asks. “This is you doing what is right because it is right, even if you believe it to be wrong?”

“Sometimes,” Cameo says, trying not to cry and Leon wishing he could take back his words. “Sometimes, that is what you have to do . . .to save what needs to be saved.”

“So what did you steal?” Orwell asks again.

“What does it matter?” Leon replies, watching what he says. “Does it really matter at all? I mean, I steal all the time and I don't see you throwing a fit over that.”

“What did you steal?” Orwell asks again, knowing Leon is right but not wanting to admit it. This quest to steal the map goes against everything Orwell believes in, but he knows it must be done to save many squirrels lives. “Tell me what it is, so we can find it and give it back to this Hood!”

“We can't give it back,” Leon says, lowering his tone.

“Why not?” Cameo yells.

“Because, he is not in the realm anymore,” Leon says, and they both look at each other. “So unless you want to travel to Airy Knoll, take a poor boy from the safety of those hills, and give him over to a monster, let’s forget about it and get out of the city.” Leon storms past them like a blot of lightening. He looks up at Cameo and says in a flat tone, “I know what the cost of doing right is, and I understand more than you'll ever know.” He rushes down the road while Orwell and Cameo stand there in shock for a moment, wondering if it is true or not. But Leon is their friend, and a part of them know they just have to believe him. They quickly chase after him, not saying sorry, but letting him know they believe him in a few words.

Orwell asks, “Will this Hood keep coming after us?”

“Yes.”

“How do we get out of here?” Cameo asks, knowing that the Knights at the gates might be looking for them now. If the Hood was smart he would have given the order for them to keep their eyes open.

“I know someone who can help,” Leon says, grinning.

~

Leon leads them to a small shop in a dark alleyway that most squirrels know nothing about. The shop looks like it belongs in Whispering Oaks and on the main street of the kingdom. The door is a perfect blue, two windows on each side with candles showing through, and the architect seems to have plucked it right out of old timey London. Leon opens the door with an echoing ring of a golden bell, and Orwell and Cameo follow him into the clock shop. They look around almost in awe that a shop looking as well to do would be in the poorest part of the city. And the fact that this shop should be in Whispering Oaks throws them off even more.

They slowly walk around the small shop looking at all the old clocks and the wood and bricks the room is made from. The cherry wood is too fine to be found in the city. The trees in which the wood is made from is only found in the southern part of the Whispering Oaks, the cost alone to get the wood shipped up here would be that of a small castle.

“Look at this,” Cameo says, and Orwell steps to her side. She lays her paw against the warm bricks in the wall. Bricks from Thorn-Wood. They have only seen bricks like this once in their lives and that was when they were in the underground kingdom. The bricks absorb light and heat to help keep the underground castle of the Thorn-Wood warm and for the Queen to able to see while in the hallways. Orwell shakes his head not wanting to think about much it would have cost. The more he thinks about it the more he's not sure the owner could have gotten the bricks here. The bricks are made with magic and the Queen no longer allows Druids to live or practice in her kingdom, which in turn means no more bricks can be made.

“Oh, Leon,” a voice says and both Orwell and Cameo to turn face a tall thin squirrel smiling from ear to ear. His fur is deep gray but his paws look like they have been dyed with a bright red ink. “You didn't tell me one of them was a Spell-Crafter.”

“She not,” Leon says standing beside his friend. Orwell and Cameo were so in awe with the room they didn't see Leon sneak into the back to get his friend.

“What a shame,” the squirrel says, rushing up to Cameo, who quickly steps back as he studies the marking around her eye. “Who in your family knew magic?”

“Our great grandfather,” Orwell says, stepping between them, “and who are you?”

“Oh right,” the tall squirrel says, holding out a paw, “I am Cronus Sand-Glass, nice to meet you.”

“Orwell Leaf-Claw,” Orwell says, taking his paw, “and this is my sister Cameo.”

“What a pleasure to meet you both,” Cronus says, turning around and heading over to Leon. “I remember the days when all Bards knew magic. Oh, boy, were the shows good then.”

“So you are a Spell-Crafter then?” Orwell asks while Cameo tries not to look at all the beautiful ornate cuckoo clocks.

“No, but some might say I am,” Cronus says, leaning back against the counter top. “I, myself, have no real problem with magic, but I do understand the need for the law. Magic for all its good, sure did mess a lot of things up. But we are not here to talk about the state of the world . . .are we?” He looks down at his friend in the black cloak and hood.

“No,” Leon grins, “We are here to ask for help to get out of the city.”

“Well, I guess I could help with that,” Cronus says, “but is there anything else you need, my friend?”

“I could always use one of your famous stopwatches,” Leon says.

“Like the one you already have in your pocket?” Cronus smiles, pointing to the pocket on the right side of Leon's pants.

Leon huffs and hands him the golden watch with a lion on it, and Cronus waves for them to keep it while telling him, “It only has fifteen minutes on it.”

“That sounds like more than enough time.”

“Then very well,” Cronus says, heading to the back of his shop. “It was nice meeting you all.” He waves, fading from their sight.

“Come on, my friend,” Leon says, pulling the other two out of the shop. They stand there for a moment while Leon looks at the golden watch in his paw. Orwell moves the heavy bag around on his back and Cameo talks about how amazing the shop is. She looks behind to see the door of the shop, along with the front of it, nothing but a wall.

“Where did it go?” She asks. Orwell looks while nodding to himself.

“So he was a Spell-Crafter,” he says aloud.

“No,” Leon corrects him. “He used to know one. Then again he could be something more, I don't really know. He doesn't talk about himself all that much and it is hard to find him most of the time.”

“Who is he really?” Cameo ask.

“He is the leader of the Guild of Thieves,” Leon tells them, heading right down the alleyway.

“I thought - - -” Orwell starts to says.

Leon stops him, “Me, no! I'm the best, but I'm no leader.”

~

“He gave you a key?” Cameo asks as they all stand against the wall of the city. “Just a key?”

“Yup,” Leon tells her searching for the key hole, “and he says it would be here.”

“A door?” Cameo asks, looking at the tall wall. “A door that will get us out of here?”

“That is what he says.”

“Great,” Cameo says, looking around for her brother who seems to have stepped away.

Leon keeps running his paws down the wall hoping to the find the key hole, but he is having no luck. The key is magic so more than likely the key hole is too, but the question is how to find it. It was something he forgot to ask, mostly because he didn't think he needed to.

“So why did Orwell go to that church?” Leon asks.

“All Sword-Saints report to a church when they come into a city,” Cameo explains, wondering how long it would take to climb the wall. Gauging the height, it looked like it would take a whole day, if not longer. And to think the wall around Traveler’s Haven is the smallest wall in the realm. She had never been to Whispering Oaks, but has heard the wall is four times taller than this one. She imagines giants building it.

“I know that,” Leon smirks, “but why that church?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I know everything in this city . . .or, well, all the underground stuff and that church is known for making poison. And not just any kind of poison. Poison they say that can't kill a squirrel but kills other things. Not too sure what the other things are, but I don't care to find out. So why did Orwell go there?” Leon asks.

“I - - hm - - - I don't really know why,” Cameo lies.

A light, bright and powerful, shows above their heads and with that light comes the key hole. Leon smiles, yelling, “Found it!” He puts the key into the hole and then looks behind him to see Orwell holding a torch, smiling.

“Thought it would be easier with some light,” he says.

“Good man,” Leon says, turning the key. The door flies open with thundering sounds from a musket, and Leon falls to his knees. The shot strikes him right in his shoulder. He didn't have time to cry out in pain before falling over, and Orwell turns in shock to see the Hood behind them holding the rifle. Cameo drops the ground to help her friend. Orwell hands her the torch as the Hood sets down the gun and flips his cloak over his shoulder.

“Give me the thief,” Don orders, “and I'll let both of you go.”

“He is under my protection, Hood,” Orwell says, wrapping his paw around his staff and looking at the black and purple armor of the Hood. The armor is the most beautiful piece of steel Orwell has ever seen. Dragons slither around the edge of a sword in the middle of the chest. Whoever crafted the metal must have taken years to do so.

The Hood pulls out his scimitar and says, “That means nothing to me, Sword-Saints.” He jumps at Orwell and Orwell readies a block. But the Hood fall to the ground as another shot rings out, this time from behind him. He looks back to see Cameo holding out one of her pistols. The Hood cries out in pain but the armor stops him from dying.

“Help me get him in the door!” Cameo cries, and without thinking Orwell pulls Leon into the tunnel. Don looks up in time to see Cameo pull the key from the hole and smash the door shut. As the metal door hits the stone wall and the sound cries out in anger, the door turns back into the wall. Don slowly rises to his feet, throwing away the iron ball that has left a dent in his armor. His left side hangs low for a bit. He'll be bruised from the shot, but that is all right. The iron ball in Leon's shoulder will do more damage.

~

“It's not that deep,” Orwell says, leaning over Leon. The thief is barely conscious and trying to say something. Cameo is looking around at the deep dark tunnel. The tunnel is dark but not as dark as it should be. There are no lights expect for a hint of a light that allows everyone in the tunnel to see. She studies the walls noticing it's not made of stone but of dirt. They are somewhere deep underground and there is only one way to go.

“Cameo, look in my bag, there should be bandages in there,” Orwell says, pointing over to the bag. Orwell pulls out one of Leon's blades and starts to dig out the iron ball. Leon screams in pain and then passes out from it. The iron ball drops to the floor as Orwell wraps his wound up and stops the bleeding.

“What are we going to do?” Cameo asks, helping her brother get the tiny squirrel up on his shoulders.

“We get the hell out of here.”

~

Don opens the door to the small guard house where a few other Hoods are sitting. They watch him slowly walk in, and take off his weapons and his armor. One of them jumps up from their seat and helps him take everything off. Another one asks, “How bad are you hurt?”

“It's didn't go through the armor,” Don says.

“That, my friend, is a good thing,” a Hood says looking at his armor and then over to him. The other two just sit back down and go back to their dinner.

“Still after Leon?” One of them asks.

“I'll get him,” Don says. “He can't get away from me forever. Plus, I got him with a stalking ball.”

“I would say,” another tells him, “to let him be, but I don't think you'll listen.”

“I can't,” Don says watching as the third Hood, the one that checked to make sure he is not wounded, leaves the room. “We can't let the kingdoms know we will stop hunting a Spell-Crafter after they leave the realm. And this Leon knows how to get to Airy Knoll.”

“That is if it is real,” one of them says, pointing at Don with his knife. He takes a bite of fresh cooked sweet apple. “It could be a myth.”

“Then were did Leon take that boy?” Don asks, trying not to move. “And where is the underground going?”

“Who knows or cares,” the Hood says. “Our days are numbered. We all know magic will come back; the Emperor is already thinking about it.”

“The Emperor is a coward,” Don says. The others both agree, but they don't understand. They were not there when Don's father would beat him with magic. Or when the ants came to kill his father and Don watched. Magic is a curse, a thing of the Lost King, pure evil! The world can do without magic, and it's the job of the Hoods to keep it that way. If the Emperor decides to stand in their way then he'll have to be removed. Don says nothing while the other two talk about the state of the realm. His thoughts turn to his sister.

She knew magic. She knew Don hated magic, and kept it from him. If only she didn't practice it, if only she didn't go against the law. But she did, and Don had to do his duty. A duty which gives him meaning to a life that would otherwise be full of pain. He is a Hood, and it is his job to save the realm from the evils of Spell-Crafters. He thanks the All-Father every day for this job, for making him into a Hood.

He stands up, walking over to his armor, putting it back on. “Leaving so soon?” One of the Hoods ask.

“Leon couldn't have gotten far,” Don says, walking into the other room where the last Hood is preparing another dinner for Don. He gathers up some supplies, food, iron balls and a sleep roll, says thank you and leaves. He steps outside, his side still in unbelievable pain, and reaches over with his right arm to pull out a compass that magically tracks the blood in Leon.

Don quietly growls to himself. He hates using magic, but sometimes, you have to fight fire with fire. He tells himself this, and then disappear after his prey.

~

The door to the tunnel opens up somewhere farther north; it was colder than before. Orwell still carries Leon on his back. Lucky for them, the door was close to a town called Star-Leaf. They rush down the main road stopping an old lady and asking for the closest church. She points at the end of the street to a pair of doors and they waste no time getting to them. They rush up to the tree where the church seem to be built into. The door opens with an old black squirrel smiling at them, and then he sees Leon.

“Father please,” Orwell says, “we need help.”

“Right this way, brother,” the father says showing them to a small room inside a tree and up some steps. He rushes off to get the doctor while Orwell checks the wound again. The blood has stopped and it is not as bad as he thought. Moments later the priest and the doctor comes rushing in and order Orwell and Cameo out of the room.

Normally the priest of the town is also the doctor, but sometimes that doesn't happen. Not to mention the doctor will more than likely not be charging them for his services.

“Father, how far from Traveler’s Haven are we?” Orwell asks as the priest comes out of the room.

“Haven?” the father repeats. “My son, you are weeks away from Haven. Why do you ask?”

“Thank you, father,” Orwell says, turning to face his sister’s worried face. He smiles a little and tells her it will be alright. “We will wait a little while for Leon to get better and then head out.”

The doctor comes out, quietly closing the door behind him and tells Orwell and Cameo, “Your friend will live, but he needs rest.”

“For how long?” Cameo asks.

“About a week or so,” the doctor says. “Whoever shot him knew what they were doing. They didn't want to kill him, just wound him. You are lucky, but he needs rest and he will be weak for about a month or so,” the doctor says, nodding to them and heading out of the church.

The father turns to Orwell saying, “You are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you, father,” Orwell says, and the father drifts away to follow the doctor.

“So we wait,” Cameo sighs and enters the room holding Leon. Orwell leaves to find the father, wishing he could help his friend and take the worry away from his sister, but he can't. For now all they can do is wait. So when Orwell has nothing else to do he finds the library, read, study, and keep his mind working. There is no real need for him to sit around worrying himself death.

Days pass and Leon slowly gets better. The doctor comes at least once a day to check on him while Cameo keeps an eye on him. She also helps out around the church and her brother keeps himself locked away reading and writing. Orwell also checks on Leon once a day. Cameo doesn't mind him not being around because there not much for him to do. She helps the father with the chores of the day and then takes dinner to Orwell. For a short while she forgets the quest they have asked Leon to do. She lets go of the things they have not told him and enjoys the quiet life. A life she wishes she could go back to; back home where she has an important job, a job she loves.

She is the head master of the Water-Fire College, the greatest known bard college in all the land. She misses the halls of the building. The squirrels running around and the endless sounds of music being played in the air. She even misses the daily duty of her job.

Cameo opens the door to the small room where Leon is resting. Leon turns to her, getting himself dressed with a little bit of pain. He ties his cloak around his body and smiles at her. “I'm ready to go.”

“Are you sure?” She asks looking at his arm still tied in its harness.

“It hurts, but I'll be alright,” Leon says, trying to hide the pain. “Plus, we have a job to do.”

Orwell steps into the room and says, “We can wait for a little bit longer.”

“We need to get moving,” Leon tells them both, heading for the door.

“Why? Other than for the quest, we have time to let you rest.” Cameo tells him, lying and looking at her brother.

“I am afraid not,” Leon says. “Don, the Hood, hit me with a tracking ball. He can follow my blood for at least a couple of months until the magic fades.”

“We are weeks away,” Orwell says. “By the time he gets here, you'll be back to normal.”

“Trust me, my friends; we need to move and keep moving. I know. I have been running from this man for almost a year now. So shall we?”

Orwell tells the father their plans and they all pray for a safe travel. The father knew this day was coming and had already acquired a few deer to take them south. They all thank him and Leon gives him some acorns for his good will. Then they leave the town. It will take weeks of travel for them to get close to Lord Talib Owl-Wing Keep, and hopefully Leon will be healed enough to fight and steal when they get there.

~

One night camping in the woods Leon is, as usual, poking the fire when he should be sleeping. His wound is healing and quickly so, but the pain keeps him awake. It isn’t that bad, he likes staying up for the most part. Knowing Don is out there makes him want to be extra cautious. He wants to make sure Don doesn't hurt his friends or sneak up on them. So he stays awake watching the night and remembering old times.

“Leon,” Cameo says stirring, not being able to sleep either, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure,” Leon says, happy to break up the quiet night with a little conversation. “What is on your mind?”

Cameo gets up from her bed roll and sits down beside him, leaning in close to the fire. “It's about this quest.”

“What about it?”

“Why we are on it,” she says. “Orwell is doing this for me.”

“How did you get in trouble?” Leon asks.

“You have been gone for a while,” Cameo says, looking over at him. “Things have changed and one of those changes was I became the head master of the bard college.”

“I actually knew that.”

“Did you know I had to borrow some money from a Lord?” Cameo asks.

“That I did not know.”

Cameo looks back into the fire. “Yeah, I had to borrow a lot of money from him,” she says.

“How much?”

“Twenty-five silver coins.”

Leon didn't say anything, instead he did the math. Five hundred acorns equal one silver coin. Which equals out to 12,500 acorns. Leon’s eyes grow in shock, not believing she had to borrow that much money. He was speechless looking at his friend. “And he called it in.”

“What?” Leon asks, and then it hit him. This Lord called in the debts so Cameo would be forced to get the music box, to find it. It was more than likely always a part of his plan. Squirrels would do almost anything for greed, no matter how many other squirrels they hurt in the long run. And this Lord was threatening to close the school and hurt hundreds. “What a dirty rat.”

“He is,” she agrees, “but I didn't know that until it was too late.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because we are getting close to the Lord Owl-Wing,” she says, smiling at him, “and I wanted you to know why we are asking you to do this.”

“Cameo,” Leon says, hugging her, “we are family, and, like your brother, I would do anything to help you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he says. “You just have to write the best song ever about me.”

“I can do that.”

“And make it your school’s anthem song.”

Cameo just laughs, but Leon is being whole-heartedly serious.

~

“So how are we going to get in there?” Orwell asks as he stands beside Leon and Cameo. They stand alone in the night looking at the keep sitting on top of a hill with four giant trees for towers. The castle sitting in the bowl of a valley. The walls in between the trees fall straight down and quickly bend in with the dry of the hill. From here they can't tell where the walls stop and the hill begins. The castle itself is uninviting. It looks like a castle out of a child's tale belonging to vampires or Dark Lords. The towers hang over the walls, bending and curving in unnatural architectural feats. It’s as if the stone was melted and twisted to look like snakes in the night sky.

Lord Talib Owl-Wing is known for being a recluse, being the only one living within the castle. To Leon this means more traps than guards. Traps by some means can be easier to deal with than walking guards, who can move and change their directions at any time. However, Leon knows traps kill and don't think about not killing. He loves the idea of trying to get through the maze of halls and not end a corpse on the floor.

“So what do we do?” Cameo asks, looking down the find the empty spot where had been Leon standing. Cameo and Orwell both look around trying to find him, but he is gone.

“I guess we wait.”

“Sounds like fun,” Cameo sighs, sitting down on the hill with the deer.

Leon knows he can't let Cameo and Orwell join him in this part of the quest. They would get killed faster than a rat in a pit of snakes. No, this is a one squirrel job and he is the squirrel for it. He has heard legends, like everyone else, of other thieves trying to get into Lord Talib Owl-Wing’s keep but never making it out. This means Leon is the one who has to do change the legends, and steal from the non-stealable.

The greatest thief in the realm climbs a tree whose reach isn’t close enough to jump to the towers. Lord Owl-Wing made sure there was no way to do that by cutting down the trees around the castle. But Leon isn’t planning on jumping, he only needs to see the whole castle.

He stands on the edge of the highest branch and understands why Lord Owl-Wing built his castle in a bowl of a valley. The walls are so high that even if you could get a leader up that high your men would fall to their death because there was nowhere to walk at the top of the walls. Leon scans the inner part of the castle. There are only two lights burning in the whole place. It was just as Leon thought, no guards just Owl-Wing and probably someone to help out, but no one else.

Leon steps closer to the edge. Jumping would be stupid, but Leon is not stupid. He leaps off the edge, his cloak falling around him. In a flash the cloak flies open like wings. Leon, being the thief he is, had his cloak made to operate like wings. He couldn't fly like a bat or bird, but he could glide.

His problem is not the fall. His problem is not being able to see where he is going. The castle is draped in black, like a pit where some number of buildings are and there no telling what is on top of them. Things that Leon could hit, smash into, and fall to his death. Things that could leave him bleeding to death on the ground and his friends would never know.

One or two high buildings have sloped roofs where he can fall off and have it end badly for him. As Leon glides closer he gets his daggers ready, but he lands on a flat roof. Leon grins to himself thinking this job is getting too easy already. He slowly makes his way into the keep, watching and checking every stone for traps.

The keep is giant; it can easily hold a brigade with room to spare. It is impressive to see one squirrel with this much power and money. Each part of the keep has a piece of art or statue or artifact that no one has ever seen. Some of this artifact where from lands most people didn't even know about. Leon tells himself he would have to come back as he runs through the halls.

He moves from hall to hall, looking for this golden map. He finally finds it in a room as big as the thorn room of Well-Stone. It rests rolled up in the middle of the room beneath a glass case. Leon slowly makes his way up to the glass, and he quickly glances down at the artifact before slowly removing the case. He takes the map and leaves his signature note behind. He turns to see a young brown squirrel standing at the other end of the room, beside him stand two large stone squirrels moving as if they were alive.

“Sir,” the young squirrel says with perfect diction while dressed in a perfect black and red gentleman's suit, his paw holding a cane. His other paw pulled his gentleman's coat to the side, revealing a pistol. “If you would put the map back and turn yourself in, this will go easy.”

“How did you know I was in here?” Leon asks, looking around and rubbing his chin. He was quiet, a cat wouldn't have known he was in the room. And yet this squirrel knew he was in the castle. “And it's rude to not introduce yourself.”

“My apologies. I am Nathan, now put the map back and turn yourself in,” says Nathan Owl-Wing.

Leon grins and says, “The name is Leon Black-Hood and I don't give up.” He throws a smoke bomb at the feet of Nathan, smoke hiding him from Leon. Leon takes off running for another door, but the ground starts to move. The golems rush to block the door, and to take out Leon. The little squirrel ducks and dodges the giant stone monsters. Smoke does not clear before a stone rushes? from the cloud like lightning, but this time Leon is ready for it. He jumps between the golems and the iron ball imbeds itself into the stone. Leon shoots under their feet and heads for Nathan; his daggers ready for a fight.

The thin sword from the Lord's son cuts through the smoke, stopping Leon. Leon jump back as the pointed end of the blade shot at him. The young gentleman steps out of the smoke, smiling and says, “Your arm is weak. You cannot defeat me, even if you were fully healed.”

“How do you know?” Leon asks, throwing himself at Nathan but he was right. His wounded arm is weak and the battle would soon turn against him. He could feel it every time he blocked or was blocked. There is a sharp pain in his side and he can’t keep fighting. He eyes the golems who stand out of the fight. He jumps back, landing on top of one of them. He pulls out a golden pocket watch with lion's head on it.

He opens it and everything in the room stops. Nathan’s perfect form where the strike aims right at Leon's chest is stopped. The golem’s arms reaching up to make sure Leon has nowhere to go is stopped. Time is frozen and Leon only has fifteen minutes to get out of the castle, which is more than enough time for the squirrel.

Time snaps back to moving and Nathan looks around for the thief. Then he feels the magic in the air and heads over to the note Leon had left. He opens it and smiles.

~

Cameo paces around Orwell who is sitting on the ground trying to keep his mind calm. She has been pacing for hours after the sun came up, wondering how long they should wait to see if Leon will make it back. She is also hoping her brother will say something about going looking for him, but he does not say a word. He simply sit there meditating.

“How long are we going to wait?” Cameo asks, but Orwell says nothing back. “Come on!” Cameo yells suddenly, “When do we go get him?”

“You don't have too,” Leon says, dropping from a tree. “I'm too good to get caught, and-” He holds up the map. “I have your map.”

Orwell stands up taking the map from his friend. He unrolls it and studies it. There near the Black Dragon Sea close to the North where the Frost Giant Mountains lies sits a cave, or so the map says. It was the only thing etched into the gold. He smiles, looking over to his friend while he says, “Thank you, my friend, thank you so much.”

Cameo winks at her friend while he smiles back, waving away their gratitude. “It was nothing. I would do anything for you guys.” Leon always seems to avoid gratitude, especially if it is from his closest friends.

Orwell’s smile fades and he says, “Leon, this is where your quest ends. I thank you, we both thank you, but you must not go on from here.”

“What?” Cameo asks while Leon says, “Why?”

“I can't allow you to put your life in any more danger helping us,” Orwell says, rolling up the map. “Things are going to get harder.”

“Look, Orwell,” Leon says, pointing up at him. “If the stories are true about what is in that cave, the dragon and its master troll, then you are going to need my help. I will not let my friends walk into that kind of danger without me.”

“Leon . . .” Orwell starts to say, but trails off as Cameo steps between them looking dead into her brother eyes. He knows what she wants. She wants Leon come with them because he is right. They might need his skills again. They might need his help as much as he might need theirs, after all that Hood is still after him. “Fine,” Orwell says, “fine, you are both right.”

“So it is north?” Leon asks.

“How do you know?” Cameo asks, raising her eyebrow.

“I took a peek before giving it to you,” Leon grins.

~

Don the Dark Knife drops from a tree while holding the compass. He watches the arrow lead him in a different direction, back the same way he was going before. He growls, the arrow is now pointing north again. He is tired of chasing this thief around the land. Don was only a couple of days away from getting to the town Leon was in, and then the arrow suddenly took him south.

“Bloody magic,” Don mumbles to himself, starting to think the spell is broken. Then he wonders if the spell can be broken. Does magic work like that? Can magic break like a sword and then be fixed like one? He doesn’t know because his job isn’t to fix magic, but to stop it from being used.

He follows the arrow in the dark wishing he was done with this mission. He would give anything to already have Leon Black-Hood and move on with his life. Then he starts to remember what the other Hoods had been talking about. “Our days are numbered,” one of them said.

The line angers Don. He hates the thought of no more Whispering Hoods. If the Hoods are gone then magic will come back into the land with it all of its evils. Magic was the cause of the Great War; the Arcane War with the arcane ants. Where Don lost his mother. She fought against the ants, but the battle was lost because of magic. If magic wasn't in the realm then she would be alive!

And the Knights of Whispering Oaks, the greatest Knights of the realm following the whims of the people. They will kill the King if he goes against the people. Those knights cannot be trusted and they don't understand the evil they face. He hates the knights almost as much as Spell-Crafters, almost.

He keeps following the arrow down the path to the North. Where are they going? He asks himself, and maybe the All-Father. He just keeps walking, keeps hunting.

~

Weeks later they reach the north and the cold winds have started to fall on the realm. The giants are blowing their horns down onto the squirrels, and soon fall will be pulling the leaves from the tree. Leon does not mind too much, neither does Cameo; they both like the cold and the changing color of the leaves. But Orwell hates the cold. This would have been the time of year where he would be heading south for the winter. It is not much better south, only just a little. He hates the cold from the years of travel on the roads. Sometimes he didn't have fire to keep him warm. Sometimes he wasn't sure he was going to live through the night.

“The cave must be somewhere in this swamp,” Orwell says as they all sit on top of a tree branch where they have been for a night or two. They have been camping above the ground, in the Lightning Bug Swamps. Each night thousands of lightning bugs filled the air. It was as if the stars of the Heaven fell to earth and started to dance around for them to watch. And every now and then, maybe once or twice, they would see a red lighting bug jump to life in the dark.

Leon would watch and wonder if he could catch the red ones before they fly away. They all know if they can get a jar of red lightning bug they can have a small bomb. All they would have to do is shake the jar violently and a moment later, boom! But Cameo will not let him go after them.

“When do you want to go looking for it?” Leon asks.

“I'm not sure,” Orwell says. “It can't be easy to find.”

“It is called the Forgotten Cave,” Cameo remarks.

“I say we go looking for it at daybreak,” Leon tells them.

“Or we could go looking for it now,” Orwell says, standing up, pointing with his staff at an opening to a cave. They both turn, not believing the cave has been there all along. How is this possible? Then it hit them like a rock to the side of the head, the cave is magical and who really understands magic.

They all jump down while Leon rushes ahead to make sure it is safe. Cameo and Orwell take their time to follow behind him. Slowly, they get close to Leon, who is hiding behind a tree. He waves for them to stop as they see something giant walk out of the cave.

“The troll,” Leon whisper.

“Great,” Orwell says, whispering just as low as the thief, “he is real.”

“And leaving,” Leon says, letting the troll fade into the swamp. Once the troll is gone he dashes into the cave, quickly followed by Orwell and Cameo.

They stop in the entrance of the cave, where they can see a small hill drop in the ground. The cave is long, made from earth. Giant sized bugs crawl over the floor. The tunnel fades as if being eaten by blackness. Leon looks at them both, smiling, and nodding to the darkness. He steps in hoping his eyes would soon adjust to the night. He hopes, like the others, they can get in and out before the troll comes back. But if the troll is real, what about the dragon?

“Orwell, the poison?” Leon says, motioning for him to hand over the small bottle.

“Are you sure?” Orwell asks, pulling the bottle from his traveling pack.

“Very,” Leon says, opening the bottle and pouring the red thick liquid on his blade. The drops of the red stuff looks like riot milk and smells about the same. Leon hands the bottle around and tell them to do the same to their weapons. Orwell puts the tip of a bolt for his crossbow into the red poison while Cameo dips two iron balls for her pistols.

They head down the tunnel until the walls become smooth from something large traveling down it. Something that has a long and snake like body. A dragon. But Leon nor Orwell say anything about the way the tunnels look. They do not want to bring it up until Cameo says, “Hmm . . .what are we going to do if we find the dragon?”

“We run,” Leon says, eying Orwell, who just nods.

~

Outside the moon grew larger in the sky. The lightning bugs go back to their homes and the night is still. Nothing moves except for the cloaked squirrel walking through the swamp. He follows his compass to the entrance of the cave where the arrow points into it. He looks around trying to understand why they were go into that place. He stands there debating if he should follow or wait. He could hide and jump Leon as he left the cave, which in the end might be the best plan. After all there is a good chance Leon would be tired and weak from being in the cave. He looks up trying to find the best place to hide when the water around his feet moves. Something is behind him.

Don turns just in time to feel the hit from the troll's hand. The force of the attack throws the squirrel into a tree and he grunts in pain. He looks over at the glowing red eyes of the troll, and he pulls the long curved blade from his side. He swings at the troll with his scimitar, but the monster grabs him by the arm, throwing him against another tree and knocking him out. The troll throws him over his shoulder and heads into the cave.

“You'll make good dinner for us tonight,” the troll says as Don fades from consciousness.

~

Finally, the company makes it to a large round room where the walls seem to go on forever. Several large pillars keep the earth from falling, and in the middle of the room sits a pedestal with a golden box on it. Orwell and Cameo head straight for the box, but Leon stops them. He lays low to the ground looking to see if there is anything in the dark. But his eyes can’t pick up anything. The blackness is too thick to see through.

“Let’s grab the box and get out of here,” Orwell says urgently.

“Something is not right,” Leon says, still looking for any sign of the dragon. “Both of you hide.” The thief fades into the dark, and Orwell and Cameo step out of the doorway. They hide behind one of the giant pillars, and wait in the dark.

Leon moves around the room like a feather falling to the ground. He makes no sound while keeping an eye on everything he can see. He doesn't head for the box; that would be too easy. If there is a monster in the room then it will expect him to do just that. He makes it to the sixth pillar when he hears something enter the room.

The troll comes storming into the darkness holding a torch in one hand and something over his shoulder. The monster is tall, about four times the height of a squirrel, which means it about six times taller than Leon. Its skin is a transparent green hue showing its black blood running through its veins. His face is long and round, its nose longer, and its hair shoots right off its head. Somehow the monster's hair is a bright red color just like its eyes.

The troll yells something in a tongue none of the squirrels can speak. Leon sees Orwell and Cameo stick their heads out to see what is going on. He waves for them to go back to hide, but they do not listen.

Two yellow eyes open around the box and the ground starts to slither to its master. The snake, or dragon, lifts its black and muddy head up into the air. The troll drops the body of Don in front of the monster. The dragon looks down, smiling at the thought of dinner tonight.

“You, eat,” the troll says, “I get the bones.” He smiles from ear to pointed ear.

Leon knew what was going to happen before it did. Orwell fires a bolt from his crossbow at the dragon, hoping to hit it in the eye while Cameo shoots with her black powder pistols at the troll. The attack will not kill the monsters, but it would work as a distraction. Either one of them cannot let the Hood die, even if he is as bad as the monsters that are about to eat him.

The shot rings out with the cries of Orwell rushing to save Don. Leon doesn’t waste any time, he dashes for the box, jumping over the unseen body of the dragon. The long monster reacts to the surprise attack with rage. Leon lifts the box from its stone pedestal and rushes to help his friends who are now behind the pillar. Orwell is pulling the body of the Hood to safety, and Cameo is trying to duck and dodge the attacks of the troll.

Leon cuts the dragon, pulling its rage from his friends to him. But he moves too fast for the dragon to be sure where the attack came from. He knows they don't have to win this battle, not right now anyways. The poison will kill the monster slowly, but for now they must survive.

Leon jumps in the middle of them as Orwell picks up the Hood. He looks at them both, winking and dropping a smoke bomb. The air fills with a thick black smoke that stops even the dragon from eating them. The troll jumps back from the smoke, coughing and holding a hand over his mouth. The smoke fades and reveals all the squirrels gone. The troll screams, ordering his dragon after the intruders, but they are almost free from the cave.

They run like bats into the night. They run for a whole two hours before stopping and dropping Don to the ground. Every one of them is out of breath, and Leon hands the box to Cameo.

“I can't believe we did it,” Cameo says through exhausted gasps of air.

“Well,” Leon says, sitting his back against a tree. “It's good to know a Hood is good for something.”

They all look at the Hood as he starts to move. Orwell steps away from him as Don slowly climbs to his feet. He looks at all of them in awe, and also shock that his prey is smiling at him. Leon bows a little as the Hood rubs his head. “You’re welcome,” Leon says.

Don says nothing.

“The troll had you,” Orwell explains, “and was going to feed you to his dragon, but we saved you.”

“And Leon saved us all,” Cameo adds.

Don says nothing and eyes all of them. His cloak hangs over his body, hiding his movements.

“Now, now,” Leon says, standing upright, “let's not do anything hasty.”

“Come with me,” Don says, “or I will make you.”

“There are three of us,” Orwell says, pulling the sheath from the bottom of his staff. The long blade sings in the night air. It is made of ulfberht steel, the best steel in the realm; it cannot be broken by anything, and it took years of magical forging to make it. Every Sword Saint carries the weapon and only they are allowed to will them. “And one of you. You will lose.”

“Choose, Leon,” Don says, but Leon's cloak is also hiding his moments.

“I choose - - -” but Leon does not have time to say anything. The night explodes with fangs as the giant snake head shoots from behind them aiming for Don. The troll jumps down from above attacking Orwell and Cameo. Leon, however, has already opened the watch while touching his friends. Everything stops moving and Leon yells for them to run.

Cameo and Orwell stand there a moment looking at the stillness, the rage and odd faces of the foes around them. It is as if someone took a picture of them, and they were able to walk within it. Leon pushes them, yelling for them to run once more. “Time is running out,” he tells them. Orwell pulls his sister into the night.

Leon jumps at Don knocking him from the path of the snake. He pulls him over to a tree as fast as he can, and then fades into the night. He knows he can't get too far away, but far enough to hide. Time snaps back; the dragon face plants on the ground and the troll falls on nothing. Don looks around not making a sound trying to figure out how he got up in a tree. Leon hides somewhere in the swamp; he hopes Orwell and Cameo are hiding as well or made it away in time. He smiles holding Don's compass and disappears into the night.

~

Epilogue,

Six Months Later,

At the Water-Fire Bard College,

Cameo walks up the stone steps to her office where a guard stands waiting. She steps into the small room before her main office as the guard says, “There is a Lord waiting for you, Headmaster.”

“Lord?” Cameo asks, rising an eye brow.

“Yes, ma'am,” the guard replies, “Lord Talib Owl-Wing, I believe he said his name was.”

Cameo heart drops to the floor and she tries not to show the fear in her eyes. “Are you sure?” She asks almost shaking.

“Yes ma'am,” the guard says back seeing her obvious change in mood.

She slowly opens the door to find an old black squirrel sitting in a chair across from her desk. She walks around looking at him sleeping in the chair. He looks harmless, but she knows he shouldn't be here. Owl-Wing should know nothing about her being involved with Leon. So she drops a book on the desk loud enough to wake the old squirrel from his sleep. He opens one eye as she sits down and then the other. He sits straight in the chair, holding a dueling cane to his side, and wearing clothes far richer than anyone in the college. He smiles at her while she gathers her courage.

“How can I help you, Lord Talib Owl-Wing?” She asks, trying to sound calm.

“Ah, my fair lady,” he says, moving to the edge of his chair and pulling the cane in between his legs. “It's not how you can help me, but how I can help you.”

“Oh?” She sits back in her chair.

“You see, my dear,” the Lord explains, “I had a map of mine stolen not too long ago, which by any means is a great feat indeed, but that is not what strikes me as an amazing thing. It was the note that was left behind.”

“Note?” She is already cursing Leon in her head.

“Yes,” he says, reaching into his pocket and handing her the note. She takes it, opens it, and read it. It's from Leon and it reads:

Dear Lord Owl-Wing,

I 'm taking this golden map from you, but I am doing it to save a college. I wish I could return the map to you after I'm done with it but I fear I cannot. Not to add you wouldn’t trust a thief, but if you could find it in your heart please look into Cameo Leaf-Claw, the Bard of Rose-Way, the Head-Master of the best bard college in the realm. And then look into the Lord would make her steal this from you. I know after you learn everything you can about her, you'll see we had to do this.

The best thief of the realm,

Leon Black-Hood

She lays the letter on her desk, and looks up at the old squirrel. “Well?”

“Well,” he says, sitting back. “I did as Leon asked. I looked into your history and the history of this school.”

“And?”

“And,” he says, again, smiling, “I have had this Lord who blackmailed you arrested for stealing my map. After all he had it in his house with a very lovely music box.”

“What about me?”

“You?” He says, his smile changing to an odd devilish grin. “Are going to stay right here.”

She sighs.

“You do a great thing at this school, my dear, but next time watch out who you get into bed with,” the Lord says.

“Trust me, I will.”

“So with that said,” he tells her, “I will be the new patron of this college. After all, I love bards and the arts.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I am very sure, my lady,” the Lord says. “You will never need for money again.” He stands up and she does the same. She walks the Lord to the door, starts to open it, but he asks her something she didn't see coming. “Can you tell me if the troll and dragon are real?”

“They were,” Cameo says, “but they are long dead by now.”

“How so?”

“Poison.”

“Can you tell me where the cave is then?” Lord Owl-Wing asks.

“I wish I could,” she says, “but as soon as we left, we all forgot where it was.”

“Hmm,” the old squirrel says smiling to himself, “I guess that why it is called the Forgotten Cave.”

“I guess so . . .”