Somewhere Someplace Sometime

Olive awoke somewhere… someplace… sometime.

 She knew it was not home.

 For several moments, that was the only thing she knew with certainty.

 She lay on damp grass beneath a canopy of unfamiliar trees, staring upward at leaves the color of dark green glass. Morning light slipped between the branches. A bird called from somewhere above her, though the sound was unlike any bird Olive had ever heard in England.

 Three short chirps.

 A pause.

 Then what sounded very much like someone clearing their throat.

 Olive sat up.

 Her head hurt.

 She touched the back of it and found no blood, which she considered a good start.

 Her dark hair had come loose during whatever had happened to her. Several strands hung across her face. She pushed them away and looked around.

 Forest.

 Not a particularly large forest, judging by the daylight visible between the trees in several directions.

 Still, it was a forest.

 Olive frowned.

 She remembered going to sleep.

 London.

 Rain against the window.

 Her room.

 A book left open beside her bed.

 She remembered pulling the blanket up beneath her chin.

 Then nothing.

 No carriage journey.

 No train.

 No unfortunate kidnapping.

 No explanation whatsoever for why she was now sitting beneath a tree.

 Olive stood.

 Her blue dress was dirty along one side. Her stockings had survived. Her boots remained properly attached to her feet, which felt strangely reassuring.

 She checked her satchel.

 Still there.

 Inside she found a small notebook, two pencils, a handkerchief, a brass key, six coins and a paper packet containing two biscuits.

 Olive looked at the biscuits.

 “Well.”

 Food was food.

 She returned them to the satchel.

 Something rustled behind her.

 Olive turned.

 Nothing.

 The trees stood quietly.

 She listened.

 Another rustle.

 This one came from beneath a fallen log.

 “Hello?”

 No answer.

 Olive took one step forward.

 A pair of enormous brown eyes appeared beneath the log.

 She stopped.

 The eyes blinked.

 Olive blinked back.

 A small face slowly emerged.

 It was covered in dark brown fur. Two pointed ears rose from either side of its head. Its nose was flat. Its mouth was wide.

 Very wide.

 And filled with teeth.

 Olive took one step backward.

 The creature took one step forward.

 “No.”

 It stopped.

 Olive pointed at it.

 “You remain there.”

 The creature tilted its head.

 Olive took another step backward.

 It took another step forward.

 “I said no.”

 The creature sat.

 Olive considered that progress.

 She looked around again.

 There had to be a road somewhere.

 If there was a road, there might be a town.

 If there was a town, there would be people.

 People meant answers.

 Hopefully.

 Olive picked a direction and started walking.

 The creature followed.

 She stopped.

 It stopped.

 Olive continued.

 So did it.

 She turned.

 The creature immediately became very interested in a mushroom.

 Olive folded her arms.

 “You are following me.”

 The creature looked at her.

 “No.”

 Olive froze.

 The creature froze too.

 “You can speak.”

 It glanced around as though someone else might have said it.

 Olive stepped closer.

 “You spoke.”

 “No.”

 “That was speaking.”

 “No.”

 Olive stared at him.

 The creature scratched one ear.

 “Can you say anything besides no?”

 “Yes.”

 Olive waited.

 The creature grinned.

 She sighed.

 “That is going to become irritating.”

 “Yes.”

 Olive resumed walking.

 The little creature followed.

 She ignored him.

 For the next ten minutes, Olive attempted to leave the forest.

 She failed.

 The first time she passed a bent tree with a hollow trunk, she noticed it because blue flowers grew from the opening.

 The second time, she slowed.

 The third time, she stopped.

 Olive looked at the tree.

 Then at the path behind her.

 “That is impossible.”

 “Yes,” said the creature.

 Olive looked down at him.

 “Do you know how to get out?”

 “Yes.

 “Will you show me?”

 “No.”

 “Why not?”

 The creature said nothing.

 Olive pointed at him.

 “You can speak.”

 He blinked.

 “Answer properly.”

 “No.”

 Olive closed her eyes.

 She counted to five.

 When she opened them again, the creature was holding one of her biscuits.

 Olive stared.

 He stared back.

 She checked her satchel.

 The packet was open.

 “One of those belongs to me.”

 The creature bit into it.

 Olive lunged.

 He ran.

 “Come back!”

 The creature raced between the trees.

 Olive followed.

 He darted beneath branches and over roots with ease.

 Olive did not.

 Her skirt caught on a thorn.

 She pulled it free.

 “Stop!”

 The creature looked back.

 He continued running.

 Olive chased him around a cluster of silver-barked trees, through a patch of tall ferns and down a narrow slope.

 Then the trees ended.

 Olive stopped so quickly she nearly fell.

 The creature sat several feet ahead of her and finished the biscuit.

 Beyond him stretched open countryside.

 Fields.

 A road.

 Smoke rising from chimneys.

 And perhaps a mile away, a small town.

 Olive looked back.

 The forest appeared tiny from here.

 A patch of strange woodland sitting between two low hills.

 She looked at the creature.

 “You knew.”

 “Yes.”

 “You made me chase you out.”

 The creature licked biscuit crumbs from his fingers.

 Olive considered thanking him.

 Then she remembered the stolen biscuit.

 “You are still a thief.”

 The creature smiled.

 Olive started toward the road.

 He followed.

 She decided not to object.

 The countryside itself seemed ordinary at first.

 Grass.

 Fences.

 Farm fields.

 A few distant cottages.

 Then Olive noticed that one field contained purple wheat.

 Another contained enormous yellow flowers tall enough to hide a man.

 Something with wings and antlers flew overhead.

 Olive stopped.

 The creature continued walking.

 She looked up.

 The flying animal disappeared behind the trees.

 Olive hurried after her companion.

 “What was that?”

 He looked up.

 “Bird.”

 “That was not a bird.”

 “Yes.”

 “It had antlers.”

 “Yes.”

 “Birds do not have antlers.”

 The creature shrugged.

 Olive stared at him.

 “You are not helpful.”

 “Yes.”

 They reached the road.

 A wooden post stood nearby.

 Someone had carved symbols into it.

 Olive stepped closer.

 She did not recognize the writing.

 Then, slowly, the marks seemed to shift.

 Not physically.

 She simply understood them.

 CLISES

 Underneath it was another word.

 GLOAMWARDEN

 Olive read both aloud.

 “Clises.”

 The creature nodded.

 “That is the town?”

 “Yes.”

 “Is Gloamwarden the county?”

 The creature looked confused.

 “The country?”

 Still confused.

 “The kingdom?”

 He shrugged.

 Olive sighed.

 “One word at a time, apparently.”

 A rattling sound came from behind them.

 Olive turned.

 A cart approached along the road.

 Relief immediately replaced frustration.

 Someone could finally help her.

 She stepped forward and raised one hand.

 “Excuse me!”

 The cart slowed.

 Then Olive saw what was pulling it.

 Beetles.

 Two of them.

 Each nearly the size of a horse.

 Their black shells gleamed in the sunlight. Leather harnesses had been fitted around their bodies.

 Olive slowly lowered her hand.

 The driver stared at her.

 He was short.

 Green.

 Very green.

 Pointed ears extended from beneath a battered straw hat.

 He held the reins loosely in both hands.

 Olive stared.

 The driver stared.

 Neither spoke.

 The furry creature beside Olive sat down.

 Olive cleared her throat.

 “Good morning.”

 The driver’s mouth opened.

 “I was hoping you could tell me where I am.”

 The driver pointed at her.

 Olive looked behind herself.

 Nothing.

 She looked back.

 “Me?”

 The driver screamed.

 Olive jumped.

 He dropped the reins, leapt from the cart and landed in the road.

 “Human!”

 “What?”

 “Human!”

 He ran.

 Olive watched him sprint toward Clises.

 “Wait!”

 He ran faster.

 “You forgot your cart!”

 The beetles continued standing peacefully in the road.

 One began eating grass.

 Olive turned to the little creature.

 “What was that?”

 He pointed at her.

 “Yes, apparently I am the problem.”

 The creature nodded.

 Olive frowned.

 “I am not dangerous.”

 The creature stared at her.

 “No.”

 “Thank you.”

 He pointed toward Clises.

 The driver had reached the first buildings.

 A bell began ringing.

 Olive listened.

 Once.

 Twice.

 Then rapidly.

 Movement spread through the town.

 People appeared in the street.

 Then disappeared.

 Windows closed.

 Doors slammed.

 A woman ran across the road carrying two children under her arms.

 Olive stared.

 “They are afraid of me.”

 The creature nodded.

 “That makes no sense.”

 He shrugged.

 Olive started walking again.

 The little creature followed.

 The closer they came to Clises, the stranger everything became.

 The houses were built in wildly different sizes.

 Some doors were barely four feet tall.

 Others were enormous.

 Chimneys bent at sharp angles.

 Several roofs had small stone statues perched along them.

 One statue turned its head as Olive passed.

 She stopped.

 The statue looked away.

 Olive kept walking.

 A sign over a nearby shop showed a pair of boots with six toes.

 Another showed a steaming kettle and the words:

 TEA, TONICS & MINOR CURSES

 Olive read it twice.

 “No.”

 The creature beside her nodded.

 “Yes.”

 Olive looked at him.

 “You chose an excellent time to learn that word.”

 The main street ahead was empty.

 Or almost empty.

 Faces watched from windows.

 Green faces.

 Gray faces.

 Faces with tusks.

 Faces covered in fur.

 Someone with horns looked over a rooftop.

 A child whispered from behind a door.

 “That’s it.”

 Another voice whispered back.

 “No, it isn’t.”

 “It is.”

 “It doesn’t have claws.”

 “My gran said humans hide their claws.”

 Olive stopped.

 She looked at her hands.

 The furry creature looked at them too.

 “No claws.”

 “I know.”

 The bell stopped.

 Silence filled the street.

 Then three figures appeared at the far end.

 Uniforms.

 Olive felt relieved again.

 Authority.

 At least that was familiar.

 Then she saw the first officer clearly.

 He was a troll.

 At least she thought he was.

 He was broad and gray, with heavy features and two small tusks rising from his lower jaw.

 The second was a goblin.

 The third had feathers.

 Olive reconsidered her relief.

 The officers approached slowly.

 The goblin carried a notebook.

 The troll carried a wooden club.

 The bird-creature carried a short sword.

 Olive raised both hands.

 “I am lost.”

 The three stopped.

 The goblin wrote something down.

 “I don’t know where I am.”

 More writing.

 “I am not going to hurt anyone.”

 The troll tightened his grip on the club.

 Olive lowered her hands slightly.

 “That was intended to reassure you.”

 The little creature tugged Olive’s skirt.

 She looked down.

 He pointed behind them.

 “No.”

 Olive followed his gaze.

 Several more townsfolk had appeared at the end of the street.

 No weapons.

 Mostly curiosity.

 Then one small goblin boy stepped forward.

 His mother grabbed him by the collar.

 The boy stared at Olive.

 “What does it eat?”

 “I heard that,” Olive said.

 The boy’s eyes widened.

 “It talks!”

 The street erupted in whispers.

 “It talks.”

 “Of course it talks.”

 “Humans don’t talk.”

 “They howl.”

 “My uncle said they hiss.”

 “Your uncle is an idiot.”

 “That is true.”

 Olive looked at the furry creature.

 He seemed amused.

 “You are enjoying this.”

 “Yes.”

 The feathered officer stepped forward.

 “Human.”

 Olive looked at him.

 “My name is Olive.”

 The officer hesitated.

 Then he straightened.

 “You will remain where you are.”

 “I am already doing that.”

 “Good.”

 “What happens now?”

 The officer looked at the others.

 Neither appeared to know.

 Finally, the goblin officer cleared his throat.

 “We notify the magistrate.”

 “Excellent. Someone sensible.”

 The troll made a doubtful sound.

 Olive ignored it.

 The feathered officer pointed toward a building farther down the street.

 “You will come with us.”

 The little creature tugged Olive’s dress again.

 He shook his head.

 Olive whispered, “I have nowhere else to go.”

 The creature looked unhappy.

 She walked forward.

 The officers immediately stepped backward.

 Olive stopped.

 They stopped.

 She moved again.

 They backed away again.

 “This will take forever.”

 The goblin wrote something in his notebook.

 Olive caught sight of the page.

 Human displays impatience.

 “I can read that.”

 The goblin closed the notebook.

 The townspeople followed at a distance.

 Olive walked through Clises surrounded by whispers.

 She passed a bakery operated by two goblins.

 A troll blacksmith.

 A shop where several small winged creatures argued over hats.

 A fountain stood in the center of the next square.

 Perched beside it was a stone gargoyle wearing spectacles.

 He was reading a book.

 He looked up.

 His spectacles slipped down his nose.

 The book fell from his hands.

 Olive noticed the title embossed on the cover.

 HUMAN HISTORY

 The gargoyle stared at her.

 “Oh.”

 The officers stopped.

 The gargoyle slowly stood.

 “Oh, my.”

 Olive looked around.

 “What?”

 The gargoyle walked toward her.

 He circled her once.

 The feathered officer objected.

 “Krushiti.”

 Krushiti ignored him.

 He examined Olive’s ears.

 Her hands.

 Her face.

 Then he looked directly into her eyes.

 “You are real.”

 Olive frowned.

 “I was reasonably certain.”

 Krushiti laughed.

 Not because Olive had said anything funny.

 He seemed delighted.

 “I knew it.”

 He turned toward everyone in the square.

 “I KNEW IT!”

 A woman shouted from a window.

 “You said that about moon giants!”

 “They remain academically possible!”

 Krushiti turned back to Olive.

 “Where did you come from?”

 “London.”

 He stared.

 “Never heard of it.”

 “England.”

 Nothing.

 Olive’s confidence weakened.

 “Earth?”

 Krushiti stopped smiling.

 The square became quiet.

 Even the officers reacted.

 Olive looked from one face to another.

 “What?”

 Krushiti leaned closer.

 “Say that again.”

 “Earth.”

 The fountain behind him rippled.

 Olive heard the water.

 Not simply the splash.

 She felt it.

 A pressure beneath her skin.

 She turned.

 The surface of the fountain trembled.

 Krushiti followed her gaze.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Nothing.”

 The water rose.

 Several inches.

 Olive stepped backward.

 The water followed.

 A thin stream lifted from the basin and curled through the air.

 Gasps filled the square.

 Olive stared at it.

 “I’m not doing that.”

 Krushiti’s face changed.

 The delight disappeared.

 The furry creature stepped closer to Olive.

 The officers raised their weapons.

 “Stop,” Olive said.

 The stream froze.

 Everyone froze with it.

 Olive looked at her hand.

 She had raised it without realizing.

 She lowered it.

 The water fell back into the fountain.

 Silence.

 Then the little creature beside Olive said one word.

 “No.”

 Olive looked down.

 For once, she agreed with him completely.