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Authors: Bill Allen
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directions to Witch Hazel’s place with Norman, Greg waited impatiently on the stoop, debating with himself whether he should bolt into the woods. As scared as he was, he figured he could probably run a mile or so before anyone noticed. Farther if he didn’t get eaten by an ogre.
“Okay, we’re ready to go,” Lucky finally announced.
“You sure?” said Greg. “I’ll bet Mrs. Greatheart’s planning to fix something delicious for lunch.”
“Oh, what a delightful sense of humor,” said Edna. “I hope the bards pick up on that and include it in their songs.”
In spite of his best efforts to stall, Greg found himself following Lucky’s lead and saying his final good-byes to the Greathearts. He ducked his head against the chill and left the family waving on the doorstep of their humble home, which might have been a comforting picture had Melvin not chosen to wave with his thumbs planted in his ears.
After the first few steps, Greg could hardly believe how sore his first day of adventure had left him. Of course his legs were tired, but even his arms ached, as if he’d crossed the Enchanted Forest on his hands yesterday. Whenever he turned his head, his neck creaked like a wooden rollercoaster struggling up its initial climb, not unlike Norman Greatheart’s had done at breakfast this morning. Still, it didn’t stop him from scanning the woods.
“Looking for something?” Lucky asked.
“What? Oh, no. I just . . . um . . . thought maybe we’d run into Marvin Greatheart.”
“Didn’t you hear? His parents said he was off near Durchester. Now, stop worrying.”
“How can you still be so calm after what happened yesterday?”
Lucky regarded Greg with a furrowed brow. “What happened yesterday?”
“The ogre, remember? You said the paths would open up for one of two reasons: because another traveler entered the forest, or to lead us to danger.”
“So you have been listening to me.”
“Don’t you see?” said Greg. “The path opened toward danger. We had a fifty-fifty shot, and it turned out wrong. What kind of luck is that?”
“The path got us out of the forest, didn’t it?”
Greg stared at Lucky in disbelief. “It led us to an ogre. We were almost killed.”
“Almost,” Lucky pointed out smugly. “You might say we’re lucky to be alive.”
“Wait, what about when the ogre knocked away my sword and pinned you to that tree? You couldn’t budge an inch, remember? You were totally helpless.”
“Again, I was lucky you were there to save me.”
“But I pinned you to the tree to start with!”
“Exactly. That sword could just as easily have hit me in the chest. I was lucky you missed.”
Lucky you’re not giving me a second chance , Greg thought, but he kept his feelings to himself as the two boys hiked in silence.
At mid-morning Lucky pulled a huge leg of lamb from his pack, along with steaming hot apple cobbler for dessert. At lunch he dug out two large squares of unleavened bread with sauce, the Myrth equivalent of pizza, one plain and one topped with everything. Greg had never thought of honey and pickled eggs as belonging on a pizza, but by noon he was starving and would have eaten just about anything.
Before the meal was through he broke down and questioned Lucky about the mysterious pack. “How does that work?”
“Quite well,” answered Lucky.
Greg decided this was probably the straightest answer he was likely to get, so he didn’t press for more.
By afternoon he felt somewhat better. Most of his muscles had worked out their knots from the previous day and were busy forming new knots. He could almost believe he was going to survive the day, if not for the fact he was on his way to see a witch, or that he would then be off to fight a dragon.
“Lucky, have you ever met this Witch Hazel?”
“Not in person, no,” said Lucky, “but I’ve heard plenty of stories. I almost feel I know her.”
Greg kicked at a stone in his path, but it managed to
“Okay, we’re ready to go,” Lucky finally announced.
“You sure?” said Greg. “I’ll bet Mrs. Greatheart’s planning to fix something delicious for lunch.”
“Oh, what a delightful sense of humor,” said Edna. “I hope the bards pick up on that and include it in their songs.”
In spite of his best efforts to stall, Greg found himself following Lucky’s lead and saying his final good-byes to the Greathearts. He ducked his head against the chill and left the family waving on the doorstep of their humble home, which might have been a comforting picture had Melvin not chosen to wave with his thumbs planted in his ears.
After the first few steps, Greg could hardly believe how sore his first day of adventure had left him. Of course his legs were tired, but even his arms ached, as if he’d crossed the Enchanted Forest on his hands yesterday. Whenever he turned his head, his neck creaked like a wooden rollercoaster struggling up its initial climb, not unlike Norman Greatheart’s had done at breakfast this morning. Still, it didn’t stop him from scanning the woods.
“Looking for something?” Lucky asked.
“What? Oh, no. I just . . . um . . . thought maybe we’d run into Marvin Greatheart.”
“Didn’t you hear? His parents said he was off near Durchester. Now, stop worrying.”
“How can you still be so calm after what happened yesterday?”
Lucky regarded Greg with a furrowed brow. “What happened yesterday?”
“The ogre, remember? You said the paths would open up for one of two reasons: because another traveler entered the forest, or to lead us to danger.”
“So you have been listening to me.”
“Don’t you see?” said Greg. “The path opened toward danger. We had a fifty-fifty shot, and it turned out wrong. What kind of luck is that?”
“The path got us out of the forest, didn’t it?”
Greg stared at Lucky in disbelief. “It led us to an ogre. We were almost killed.”
“Almost,” Lucky pointed out smugly. “You might say we’re lucky to be alive.”
“Wait, what about when the ogre knocked away my sword and pinned you to that tree? You couldn’t budge an inch, remember? You were totally helpless.”
“Again, I was lucky you were there to save me.”
“But I pinned you to the tree to start with!”
“Exactly. That sword could just as easily have hit me in the chest. I was lucky you missed.”
Lucky you’re not giving me a second chance , Greg thought, but he kept his feelings to himself as the two boys hiked in silence.
At mid-morning Lucky pulled a huge leg of lamb from his pack, along with steaming hot apple cobbler for dessert. At lunch he dug out two large squares of unleavened bread with sauce, the Myrth equivalent of pizza, one plain and one topped with everything. Greg had never thought of honey and pickled eggs as belonging on a pizza, but by noon he was starving and would have eaten just about anything.
Before the meal was through he broke down and questioned Lucky about the mysterious pack. “How does that work?”
“Quite well,” answered Lucky.
Greg decided this was probably the straightest answer he was likely to get, so he didn’t press for more.
By afternoon he felt somewhat better. Most of his muscles had worked out their knots from the previous day and were busy forming new knots. He could almost believe he was going to survive the day, if not for the fact he was on his way to see a witch, or that he would then be off to fight a dragon.
“Lucky, have you ever met this Witch Hazel?”
“Not in person, no,” said Lucky, “but I’ve heard plenty of stories. I almost feel I know her.”
Greg kicked at a stone in his path, but it managed to
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