fairies, and the goblins, and the trolls, places like Hanselwood Forest provide an essential refuge from the everyday persecution they would face in the world outside. Here they at least have safety in numbers. And, in truth, aside from the odd lost dog walker or hiker, nobody really bothers us much. The humans are too scared to come into a forest they think is haunted, but at the same time, no human is willing to admit aloud that they would take such thoughts seriously, nobody believes the stories enough to come searching the woods for their truth, just enough to stay away. Which suits us fine. Indeed, the whole situation is close to perfect. Well, until The Professor came along that is.”
I had a million more questions that I wanted to ask Aurelius, like how it was that he knew that The Professor was behind the plan to demolish the forest. And why its magical inhabitants could not simply move elsewhere. However, before I had the opportunity to utter another word, we were once again interrupted.
Chapter 6
A voice came from within the trees, the unconcealed fear it contained commanding our immediate attention.
“Mr Jones! Mr Jones! Thank goodness I have found you!”
I turned to see a girl running towards us from the forest. She looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years of age and wore a mud-stained tunic which was covered in dead leaves and bracken and was held in place by a belt that looked as though it had been woven from vines, off of which hung a small, rustically crafted slingshot and a pouch of what I presumed was ammunition. The only other things she wore were big white daisies that floated so naturally on the waves of her long, blonde hair that they looked as if they may have grown from it. Her legs and feet were bare. I had never seen such a beautiful creature in all my life. It was only when she got closer that I realised that the uncommon nature of her looks emanated largely from her strange, slightly up-turned nose and pointy ears.
“Rain?” asked Aurelius, momentarily perplexing me until I realised that he had referred to the girl by her name, which was as unique as her beauty. “My dear girl, whatever is the matter?”
“Raymondo...badger...black...” she panted, making no sense to me whatsoever. Clearly my companion was just as perplexed as I was.
“My dear girl, do calm down. Here, drink some of this,” he said, pulling from inside his coat a small bottle which my eyes could not help but be drawn to. It was similar in design to those bottles people sometimes refer to as ‘flasks’ for no reason I have ever been able to fathom – to me a flask is a vessel for tea, not whisky. This particular bottle though, clearly contained neither of those substances, judging by the deep, regal purple of the liquid contained within its opaque blue moulding. The bottle had been formed from a beautiful, tranquil, unassuming coloured glass that juxtaposed somewhat unpleasantly with the bejewelled red heart that was the vessel’s only adornment. The girl I now knew to be called Rain took it and swigged eagerly.
“Not too much,” warned Aurelius, and for a moment I feared it was a warning which had come too late, for within moments the girl’s face had reddened, and her eyes were bulging, but, just as I feared she was going to vomit all over me, she appeared to regain control of herself. He face returned to its normal colour and when she began speaking again she was a great deal more comprehendible.
“Blackheart! Blackheart is here! Here in the forest!”
“Blackheart? Here? Impossible.” For the first time since I had met him Aurelius looked frightened. The shock of such a spectacle, in turn, passed this fear onto me. “How do you know this? Have you seen him with your own eyes?”
“Well, no... not exactly,” Rain admitted.
“Okay, so how exactly did you come across this information?” the lanky Fernator asked in a tone more threatening than I was used to hearing from him; a
I had a million more questions that I wanted to ask Aurelius, like how it was that he knew that The Professor was behind the plan to demolish the forest. And why its magical inhabitants could not simply move elsewhere. However, before I had the opportunity to utter another word, we were once again interrupted.
Chapter 6
A voice came from within the trees, the unconcealed fear it contained commanding our immediate attention.
“Mr Jones! Mr Jones! Thank goodness I have found you!”
I turned to see a girl running towards us from the forest. She looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years of age and wore a mud-stained tunic which was covered in dead leaves and bracken and was held in place by a belt that looked as though it had been woven from vines, off of which hung a small, rustically crafted slingshot and a pouch of what I presumed was ammunition. The only other things she wore were big white daisies that floated so naturally on the waves of her long, blonde hair that they looked as if they may have grown from it. Her legs and feet were bare. I had never seen such a beautiful creature in all my life. It was only when she got closer that I realised that the uncommon nature of her looks emanated largely from her strange, slightly up-turned nose and pointy ears.
“Rain?” asked Aurelius, momentarily perplexing me until I realised that he had referred to the girl by her name, which was as unique as her beauty. “My dear girl, whatever is the matter?”
“Raymondo...badger...black...” she panted, making no sense to me whatsoever. Clearly my companion was just as perplexed as I was.
“My dear girl, do calm down. Here, drink some of this,” he said, pulling from inside his coat a small bottle which my eyes could not help but be drawn to. It was similar in design to those bottles people sometimes refer to as ‘flasks’ for no reason I have ever been able to fathom – to me a flask is a vessel for tea, not whisky. This particular bottle though, clearly contained neither of those substances, judging by the deep, regal purple of the liquid contained within its opaque blue moulding. The bottle had been formed from a beautiful, tranquil, unassuming coloured glass that juxtaposed somewhat unpleasantly with the bejewelled red heart that was the vessel’s only adornment. The girl I now knew to be called Rain took it and swigged eagerly.
“Not too much,” warned Aurelius, and for a moment I feared it was a warning which had come too late, for within moments the girl’s face had reddened, and her eyes were bulging, but, just as I feared she was going to vomit all over me, she appeared to regain control of herself. He face returned to its normal colour and when she began speaking again she was a great deal more comprehendible.
“Blackheart! Blackheart is here! Here in the forest!”
“Blackheart? Here? Impossible.” For the first time since I had met him Aurelius looked frightened. The shock of such a spectacle, in turn, passed this fear onto me. “How do you know this? Have you seen him with your own eyes?”
“Well, no... not exactly,” Rain admitted.
“Okay, so how exactly did you come across this information?” the lanky Fernator asked in a tone more threatening than I was used to hearing from him; a
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