Legend of the Woods
Episode 5, The Guardians and the Cowboy
Legend of the Woods began as a response to Writing Prompts I found at the publication Promptly Written, by Christine Graves and Ravyne Hawke.
Clarisa and Abby stepped into the woods. Clarisa carried a laundry basket. She noticed a lightly used trail that led from the Great Oak into the woods. The transition felt like going from a well-kept garden to the untamed jungles of the Amazon. She suspected that Heydrick had chosen this starting point because of the trail.
“What do you think the Cregal Dai-Small eat, Claree?”
“Who, Abs?”
“The Cregal Day-Small.”
“Abs, come on, we need to stay focused.
“Why are you so grumpy? How can you not be excited?”
“What was that thing in the wheat field, and why didn’t they warn us? It was so wrong; it looked like it wanted to hurt us. Don’t you think so, Abs?”
“I don’t know, I only saw it once. But it was terrifying. But then Brevlodar, the guardian angel, swooped in and saved the day. Did you see how strong he was?”
“Oh goodness, you have a crush on a winged Garden Gnome. Ha ha ha, very interesting,” Clarisa chuckled at her sister’s starry-eyed admiration.
“Ha ha ha,” someone or something mimicked Clarisa’s laugh.
She halted, and Abby bumped into her.
“Abs, stay focused.”
“Why did you stop?” Abby asked.
“Why did you stop?” the mimic echoed.
“Hey, Mama says it’s impolite to do that; stop copying me.”
“It’s impolite,” the mimic echoed again.
“Mama says,” a second voice was different from the first.
“Stop copying me,” a third voice joined in.
These were deep, scratchy voices, and Clarisa felt a shiver run down her spine.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” Clarisa asked.
“I want that laundry basket, little girl.”
“Well, you can’t have my things just because you want them.”
“Well,” the first scratchy voice chuckled, “Ha ha ha ha ha.”
“You think you can trespass in our woods without consequences, little girl.”
The girls screamed as vines ensnared their feet, and strange creatures emerged from the undergrowth. One of the creatures, a thin figure with purple flowers on its tall frame, poked Clarisa’s chest with a thorn-like finger.
“Ouch, that hurt!” Clarisa exclaimed.
“Ouch, that hurt,” the creature and others echoed.
“He he he he he,” a chorus of gravelly voices laughed.
Abby screamed as a chubby vine creature pawed at her daypack. The vine had mossy tentacles hanging like a beard.
“Please stop,” she cried.
The chorus of gravelly voices repeated Abby’s scream.
“Claree, give him the laundry basket, make them go away.”
“Stop that! Leave her alone!” Clarisa demanded.
“I can’t give this to you. Heydrick said I had to give it to the Gremorians,” Clarisa said.
“Brevlodar, help us!” Abby yelled.
The laughter and mimicry ceased, leaving the woods in eerie silence.
“No need to involve that hoity-toity,” the chubby vine creature said, looking around.
“What else do you have, little girl? You can’t pass through our woods without paying the price,” the creatures taunted.
“Yeah, there are two,” echoed the voices.
“Wait, are you the Gremorians?” Clarisa asked.
“Who wants to know, little girl?” the thin flowery creature replied.
“Stop calling me little girl,” Clarisa retorted. “I am Clarisa Frilarium, and I’m a young lady, unlike my little sister Abby,” she said, pointing to Abby. “And you, let her go right now!” she demanded, pointing to the mossy-bearded creature.
“Frilarium,” the creatures echoed.
“Are you the Gremorians?” Clarisa demanded.
“Yes, young lady, I am Garr, the leader of the Gremorians. But you still need two gifts because there are two of you. Even if you are a Frilarium, you can’t pass through the woods for free.”
“Wow,” Abby said, gazing at the creatures surrounding them.
“Wow,” began to echo around the woods.
“Well, Garr, You could have just announced yourself and asked for a gift for passage; you didn’t have to scare us,” Clarisa said.
“Well, Little, aah young lady, You could have announced yourself and presented a gift for passage instead of trespassing,” Garr said.
“Are you copying me?”
“Yes.”
“Stop that. It’s rude,” Clarisa demanded.
“Wow,” Abby looked about; she could see thirteen of the creatures now.
“Wow,” began to echo about the woods.
“Shush, now stop that all of you, I’m tired,” Clarisa said. The woods fell silent.
“And grumpy,” Abby said.
“Grumpy,” several Gremorians dared an echo and laughed out loud. Clarisa glared at Garr.
“Quiet now, the young lady is tired,” he said. Then looking at Clarisa, said, “well, do ya have another gift of not?”
The woods fell silent.
“Of course, we do. You don’t think a Frilarium dense, now do you?” She handed Garr the laundry basket, took off her day pack, and retrieved the toothpicks.
“Ah, toothpicks,” Garr said, and the word echoed around the woods. “Give it to the little girl,” he instructed.
“Why?” Clarisa asked.
“It has to be her gift for passage. You already gave me the laundry basket.”
Clarisa smiled at the flowery monster and handed the toothpicks to Abby. All the Gremorian heads and eyes turned in unison toward Abby. She took the toothpicks, put them in her daypack, and looked at Garr with a grin. The woods let out a sigh, then fell silent. Abby retrieved her water bottle and grinned at Garr. She took a sip, placed the bottle back in her pack and fetched the toothpicks handing them to Garr. Suddenly, the woods rumbled with a thousand whispers as a massive tangle of vines grew behind Garr. Multiple eyes followed the box of toothpicks’ every move.
“Um, where are you heading, Clarisa Frilarium?” Garr asked, passing the toothpicks to a Gremorian behind him. The woods erupted in chaotic movements as the vines grew.
“Show me the way to the Cowboy, map,” Clarisa said. “Heydrick said we need to find the Cowboy to reach Mort. We have a letter for him.”
“Wow,” Abby exclaimed, watching the Gremorian horde twist and turn behind Garr.
“Wow, Mort,” echoed from the Gremorians.
The map spun, faded, and zoomed in, revealing a short trail leading to a man in a chair. Clarisa showed the map to Garr.
“Well, well, the Cowboy is right here; you won’t have to search long,” Garr said.
“Toothpicks,” the voice of the chubby Gremorian who had bothered Abby said.
Garr spun around, his viny neck twisting violently as he pushed through his comrades. His eyes bulged, and his face contorted.
“Wow,” Abby whispered.
“Wait for me,” Garr said, then turned to Clarisa. “I must leave now, young Ms. Frilarium. Safe travels.” The viny mass retreated into the woods and disappeared.
Clarisa and Abby focused on the map, which clearly displayed a trail of footprints leading to a man in a chair.
“It must be nearby; let’s go, Abby,” Clarisa said.
“That was amazing! I wonder what the big one’s name was; I’ll call him Mossey,” Abby said.
“They were pretty scary, weren’t they?” Clarisa remarked.
“Well, they are the guardians, after all,” Abby replied.
The girls continued down the now wider and clearer path. After a while, the trail curved around a large tree. On the other side, they discovered a clearing with tables, a fire pit, and an oversized wooden chair. A transparent green apparition of a man in cowboy attire sat in the chair, chewing on a toothpick.
“Wow, look, Claree, a horse! Can I ride it?” Abby exclaimed.
“I think it’s a ghost, Abs. I don’t think living people can ride it,” Clarisa cautioned.
“No it’s just part of the myst,” Abby said.
“Hello, sir, are you the Cowboy?” Clarisa asked. “Mr. Heydrick Merkers told us to find you; we have a letter for Mort.”
“Ah, old Heydrick, he sent you, did he?” the Cowboy replied. “I suppose he’s the one you’re delivering the letter for, am I right?”
“Yes, sir. He asked us to deliver the note,” Clarisa answered, her nervousness growing.
“Wow,” Abby chimed in, touching the ghostly horse.
“You should be careful, Abs. You don’t know the horse’s temperament,” Clarisa cautioned.
The Cowboy glanced at them. “Oh, that horse has been with me for over a hundred years. It’s never harmed a child. So, who are you, and why did Heydrick involve you in these matters?”
“I’m Clarisa Frilarium, and this is my sister Abby. Our father is Podarius Frilarium VII. I’m not sure what you mean by ‘these matters’; Heydrick simply asked if we’d deliver a letter.”
“Ah, Podarius the seventh is back at the homestead. Is he selling the place?” the Cowboy asked.
“Why is everyone here so blunt?” Clarisa pondered. “I’ve introduced myself. Aren’t you going to tell us your name?”
“My apologies, ma’am. I’m Harry, Harry Peal. A long-time associate of the Frilariums. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d know me,” Harry Peal said.
“Nice to meet you, sir. Abby, come meet Mr. Peal.”
“Hi, Mr. Peal, I recognized you from the family history books we read last night. You were on the wagon train that brought Great Grandpa from New Orleans. Nice to meet you, sir.”
“My pleasure, young lady,” Mr. Peal greeted them, tipping his hat, taking out his toothpick, and spitting.
“Wow,” Abby watched the spit evaporate into a green mist. “May I ride your horse?”
“Well, young lady, have you ever ridden a horse before?” the Cowboy asked.
“No, sir.”
“Wait, Mr. Peal, will you help us? The sun will rise soon, and we must deliver the letter to Mort and return home. If our parents realize we’re missing, they’ll worry,” Clarisa pleaded.
“Of course, I’ll assist you, but you might as well get comfortable. We can’t leave tonight; the Ouachita River is running high, and all the crossings are underwater. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow evening if it doesn’t rain,” the Cowboy explained.
“No, no, no. This can’t be happening,” Clarisa muttered.
“Well, I’m tired, even though we didn’t bring sleeping bags or food for dinner,” Abby said.
“I think we’ve got that covered, young lady,” the Cowboy said. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled.
Suddenly, the clearing transformed into a bustling scene. Ghostly figures of men, gnomes, and other creatures the girls didn’t recognize set up tents, cooked food, and played music. Some even danced while they worked, making Abby laugh.
Although Clarisa was still worried, she settled down, saying, “No, no, no.”
Once all the work was done, most of the figures and creatures vanished.
“I know you’re upset, but in all my years with the Frilariums, I’ve learned that most of the time, you’re right where you’re meant to be,” the Cowboy reassured Clarisa. “So relax, have some food, get some rest, and we’ll get you to Mort.”
Abby had already filled her plate with a variety of food and sat at a table, eating. Clarisa followed the Cowboy’s advice, filled her plate, and joined Abby.
“I’m very tired. Tomorrow, then?” Clarisa asked the Cowboy, who was enjoying some stew.
“Yes, ma’am, if we don’t get rain tonight,” he replied.
After the meal, they retired to the tent the Cowboy had pointed out to them and slept.
To Be Continued.
Next up is Episode 6, The Trail Less Traveled.
You can find Episode 4, Trouble at Oak and Wheat, here.
Begin your journey in the Mystic Realms her with Episode 1, Frilarium Farms.
© 2022, T. Mark Mangum
I am T.Mark Mangum. From an early age, I was hooked, addicted to the imagined, unfathomable worlds of Star Wars, Star Trek, Conan, the Lord of the Rings, and many others. I love writing fiction tales. I love writing in multiple genres. However, my favorites are Sci-fi and Fantasy fiction. I am a father of six; we have two cats and two dogs. Tabletop gaming is a passion.
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