Chapter 7

Penelope stretches with a yawn. She slept more comfortably than she imagined she would on rocks. She doesn’t immediately open her eyes as the sleep still lingers, clutching at the far reaches of her mind in an attempt to keep here there in darkness rather than allow her to awaken to light. But something is different. It’s not wrong, yet not exactly right either. Faintly she can hear the waves crashing...

Shouldn’t those waves be lapping, not crashing?

Finally the witch opens her eyes. She isn’t in the middle of the sea on an outcropping of rocks. No, she is in a small four walled house, one a very comfortable bed. “Where are we?” she asks, propping herself up on an elbow to get a better look at the place.

Beats the hell out of me. Besides that, how the hell should I know?

“I don’t know,” the girl answers. “I just figured that you would.”

Haven’t you figured out that I see what you see? I don’t exactly go around looking at everything while you’re asleep.

“I don’t know that,” she says with disdain.

If I could control your body while you were asleep, we sure as hell wouldn’t have to take so long to get to where we’re going.

“Good point,” the girl says.

Yes, I know.

“The question is: where are we?”

That’s the top question on my list.

Penelope suddenly giggles.

What is it you find so funny now?

“I was just thinking about lists,” she says.

Yeah?

“Yeah.”

And?

“And what?”

The cat sighs. Lists? What about them?

“Oh, just how yours is different than mine.”

This I have to hear. A pause and then a long moment of silence passes before Hazel all but screams. Well, what about the lists?

“Their different.”

Are you messing with me or are you being serious?

“Oh, I’m serious,” the witch says, throwing her feet over the edge of the bed. “Where’s my hat?”

Did you hit your head on those rocks?

“I don’t think so.”

Well... ?

“The lists?” the witch asks, scratching her head.

No, your hat.

“You know where it’s at?”

If Hazel could roll her eyes she would. Try that fancy bottomless bag of yours.

“Where is it at?”

Beats me. You’re the one with the magic to summon it.

“Ah, here it is,” the girl says, smiling. “Yep, right where you said it’d be. I wonder how it got there...”

Probably the same way we got here.

“How’s that?”

I don’t know.

“But you just said you knew.”

No I didn’t.

“Yes you did,” she accuses.

No, I did not.

“You didn’t?”

Nope.

“Oh, well then, our lists are definitely different.”

Again with the lists?

“Yeah, yours starts with Where are we?,” she answers. “Mine is How did we get here?.”

How we got here is pretty obvious.

“We swam?”

I don’t swim, remember?

“Right...”

Either one of those sirens brought us here, wherever here is or we were transported by magic.

“Or both of them brought us here.”

Didn’t I just say that?

“No, you said one of them brought us here.”

Same thing...

“Not really...”

Whatever. Look, it doesn’t matter.

“It doesn’t?” Penelope asks. “Why not?”

Because we’re here. We’re alive and not fish food, that’s why.

“So what do we do now?”

Find out where here is.

“I’m hungry,” the witch says just as her stomach growls.

When aren’t you? No, never mind, don’t answer that. Let’s just see where we are. Maybe we’ll be in some village and they’ll have food.

“What if they’re not friendly?”

If they weren’t friendly then I doubt we’d still be alive.

“They could be keeping us alive to fatten us up or maybe to sacrifice them to their god,” the witch suggests, shivering at the thought.

Only one way to find out...

“Right.” Penelope stands up and walks over to the door. Other than the bed, the place is empty. In fact it’s so small that besides being only able to fit a small table, there isn’t room for anything else. She pushes the door and it swings open easily enough. Instantly she is hit by warm, fresh air and the taste of salt from the sea.

A beach... how lovely...

“Well, at least it’s not a forest,” the witch says cheerily.

Unless you want to walk the beach until we hopefully find something, we’re going to have to go into a jungle.

Penelope looks both ways and all she sees is desolate beach running parallel to a jungle. “I guess I spoke too soon.”

A habit you’d be better off breaking.

“Well, I guess breakfast is out of the question.”

Unless you’ve got something to fish with in that bag of yours.

“Nothing that’s going to help there,” she confirms.

Maybe we’ll get lucky and find something in the jungle.

The witch sighs and stretches again. Then she heads toward an opening in the tree line. She walks fairly quickly, feeling energized from such a good sleep. Pretty soon she can no longer see the shore nor hear the sound of the waves crashing along it. The path splits up ahead and she takes the one heading to the right.

Why this one and not the other?

The girl shrugs. “I don’t know. Right is right?”

And left is wrong?

This time she nods. “Yep.”

I see your logic.

For nearly the next hour she walks, the path winding through trees and ferns. She hears plenty of birds and other animals, and where there are animals and birds, there’s bound to be food of some sort. The morning is warming up fast, the breeze cut off from the sea long ago.

“I wish we had some water,” she says, coming to a stop by a large boulder where she settles down against it, sitting on the ground.

It’s too bad those sirens didn’t leave us with any water.

“After that performance, they could have given us a boat,” the witch murmurs.

Yes, you out did yourself on that one.

“I’m surprised you didn’t complain more.”

Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.

Penelope looks around as she rests, taking in the sight of the trees, noting a trail off to the side that she would have missed had she not stopped for a break. “I wonder where that leads.”

The mountains.

“I thought you didn’t know where we were.”

I don’t.

“Then how do you know where it leads?”

It’s obvious, isn’t it?

The young witch’s eyes drift along it toward the large mountain looming ahead. It looks steep, but it has to lead somewhere. “I wonder where it leads.”

Civilization, with any luck. And if we’re real lucky we’re already on the Northern Continent and Wallapazoohah is at the end.

“Well, no time like the present, before we starve or thirst to death,” she says, getting up on her feet and taking the path.

The path leads right to the mountain, cutting right between large boulders and lose rock, climbing up higher into the mountain. The witch climbs it, following the well-worn path. Higher and higher she climbs, her previous walk forgotten, as well as her hunger and thirst. Determination has her in its grasp, and nothing is going to stop her. Besides, if this does lead to Wallapazoohah, then the inhabitants there ought to have food and drink.

It is nearly afternoon before the path finally levels out again and the young witch hears running water. At that sound, she hurries through some trees to a waterfalls and a clear pool at its base. The clearing is rocky with the stones covered in moss and lichens, and the sun beats down onto the water. The pool shimmers in the light, twinkling in invitation, but her gaze wanders over to a large rock on the shore of the pool, to the mysterious creature hiding behind a large boulder.

The creature looks like a man from the waist up with tanned, rough skin. But from the waist down he is covered in fur. And instead of feet, her furry legs end in hooves. She even spots a little tail peeking out from behind him. “Is he ones of the guards here?”

How would I know?

“Haven’t you been here before?”

No.

“Then how do you know of the place?”

Besides reading about it? I’ve heard your mother talk about it.

“How is it you know such much until it becomes necessary?” her eyes narrow as if she were staring right at the cat in an interrogation.

How can you be a witch and not able to cast magic properly?

“How is it you sneak up on a guy and then completely ignore him while talking to yourself?” a masculine voice suddenly cuts in. And as if for the first time, the witch looks at the creature blankly.

“Who are you?” the witch asks. “Or rather what kind of creature are you?”

Subtle...

“I’m a satyr,” he says as if it should be obvious. “And I am called Fab.”

Penelope smiles at him.

Don’t you do it.

“Is that short for something,” she says anyway. “Maybe something like Fabulous?”

Fab grins at her. “What are you doing on this mountain, or for that matter, this island?”

Island?

“I’m on an island?” she asks, her jaw slack.

“Yes, you moron,” Fab says. “This is the island home of the sea god, Crocdius.”

“Well, to be honest I don’t know how I got here,” Penelope says with a shrug, more concerned about how she is going to get off it rather than how she got on it.