(Narrated by Kevin Coffey)

Hey everyone. A cheerful welcome to my new followers! Hope this finds everyone well enough. We had some arctic weather in Texas last week that did a number on our schedule and some of our trees. No complaints though as some friends are still without power.

See you again soon!

—KC

With Mr. Stump in flames, Francis and Charley sprung awake, blinking like crazy and scrambling in all directions.

The Broken Dreams behind the wall and in front of it freaked out and seemed like they would trample each other to death in their panic and confusion.

Jimmy moved in slow motion, like he’d been drugged with something to make him sleep. He wanted to stand triumphant and boast about destroying the warped old tree, but in truth, his insides felt as rough and rotten as Mr. Stump’s bark.

“Come on,” Burks said to him, patting his shoulder with urgency. “We need to get everyone out of here!”

Jimmy said nothing, almost completely out of it, just letting Burks lead him by the arm.

Sinsul gathered up Francis and helped up Lem. “Mmm.” He nudged them with urgency.

Jimmy followed, ambling after them like a trained zombie.

Crumbling bark tumbled all around him as the haggard old tree was roasted. The choking odor of black smoke and burning wood was everywhere and made it hard to breathe for their group.

Lem ducked a flaming piece of bark and coughed through the invasion of black smoke. “Where do we—get out of here? This old tree won’t last long.”

“Neither will we if we keep breathing smoke!” wheezed Francis.

Charley raised his head. “There!” He pointed with his nose at a shadowy mass of Broken Dreams escaping through a far opening. Pointy tails sporting jittery rattles hurtled through an exit.

“Jump!” yelled Sinsul. The warhorse latched onto each member of his group with his teeth, shoving them through the opening one by one.

They slid down a winding, hollow tube that hadn’t been devoured by flames yet and spilled out onto blackened sand. They hurried away from the chaotic hive of panicked Broken Dreams fleeing in all directions.

As they ran from the stump, towering flames ruled the sky behind them. Mr. Stump wailed and wailed. It seemed Jimmy had delivered the deathblow to the poor Dreaming Tree this time.

Deep regret and sadness filled Jimmy up. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the shadow of the burning tree. There was no answer.

They jogged east along the root—now with black smoke pouring out of its seams—just as the bitter old tree had instructed. After running for forever and a day with everyone having to cover their faces, the smoke thinned, and the trees and grass gave way to sand and desert.

Not only did the stump’s gigantic root point like an arrow in the right direction, but it held water for them, which was appreciated by the thirsty group. That explained why the roots didn’t burn like the rest of the tree; they contained enough water to keep the flames at bay—for now.

A giant plume of black smoke filled the sky where the skocean once was visible. They took a breather to tap the root again for their water break, but had to wait for the water to cool before drinking it.

Jimmy shook his head, still in shock. “Why did that crazy old stump try to kill me?”

Lem stepped forward and nudged her brother. “Gee, I wonder. Better question: What’s the deal with your evil friend back there? Why is he suddenly popping up and helping us? What do you really know?”

“I’m not sure,” Jimmy shrugged.

“He’s ignorant of how devastating and cruel that one is,” Burks said, defending him. “But he sees it now, don’t you?” Burks almost pleaded.

“Let’s just keep going,” Jimmy grunted. He didn’t want to get into this now with any of them. They didn’t understand him. Never had. Never would.

They left the monumental root behind and crossed into deserted badlands. There was nothing but shifting sand and carnivorous-looking rocks—no trees or grass anywhere. The wind screamed an evil tune as they pushed against it, inching closer to its source. Flying sand cut into their faces and stung their eyes. Jimmy and Lem suffered the worst of it on their bare, soft skin. Sand dunes rolled before them and broke like waves, forcing them to wade through a blizzard of grains.

Too tired to do anything but trudge the tough hike to get where they needed to go, they had to throw all their weight to fight across the sandstorm and reach the base of a rough, sheer cliff. The slope’s steep grade made Mathematics Mountain comparable to a soccer field.

In the whipping air, Jimmy lifted his head and made out a jagged shape draped in shadows looming overhead.

“That’s got to be the Lurking’s mountain,” Jimmy yelled over the wind.

Charley took up rear guard, hopping behind in their plowed paths, while the silly Burks huffed and puffed beside him like a machine running on a low battery.

They climbed with excruciating slowness up and up the unforgiving, steep mountain. The winds grew more rabid—moaning, howling, and scratching furiously at them, threatening to bite and freeze them for an eternity.

As they reached higher altitudes, the sand turned into a dark blanket that crunched with each step.

Jimmy scooped up a handful of frozen black particles. He dropped it just as quickly, brushing his palms together. “This sand burns a little, but on the inside.”

“Not sand; it’s shadow snow,” Burks said.

“This stuff is snow?”

“Yeah,” Burks said. “We kind of invented it. Do you remember painting that picture of a really messed-up landscape?”

“Sort of,” Jimmy muttered, not really wanting to dredge up anymore wrongdoings his imagination might have caused.

They trudged for long stretches in silence, following Sinsul and Charley—who had to be in the lead, of course—they staggered up to the top of a rising ridge that leveled out. Everywhere Jimmy glanced, spiky points surrounded them, their jagged peaks draped in shadow snow. Not far above them and appearing to lower as they ascended the crag, the once again fully intact skocean’s waves writhed to and fro.

From time to time, actual words—and not nice ones—told them off from within the mix of the wind and roaring surf of the ocean in the sky. We’re getting closer to Bucky Brees’ lair all right, Jimmy thought.

Sinsul was more than in his element and the only one of them even a little adaptable. He was missing his huge size and bulk, but none of his might or attitude. The miniature warhorse glided out onto the breeze more than once, like a wary eagle, circling the mountain to check for the enemy.

Jimmy transferred Francis to his front pouch because the charcoal snowflakes fell so thick and fast he had to continually dump his hood.

The bad weather ate at them as Jimmy and Lem had runny noses, and Charley kept sneezing, too. The going got even slower as they waded through yet even more drifts of piled-up burning black snow. The cold became thicker and heavier, making each step more difficult. Jimmy wriggled his toes to make certain they were still there. Some of the drifts stood tall and cut dark shapes destined to fall and bury them in mini-avalanches. Jimmy had to admit their luck had held out so far. Other than the annoying winds, and crazy hard climbing, there was no sign of the air bully.

When Sinsul stopped them and motioned at something with his hoof, Jimmy stopped to inspect two lonely and crooked snow columns. Jimmy led them around the columns, with everyone on high alert.

They stepped out of the packed snow onto a rocky shelf that gave an instant vertigo-inducing view of the world from a thousand feet above the ground.

“Uh… don’t think this is a mountain,” Burks chattered.

“No. It’s a path suspended in the air that keeps going way up above us and below us—I designed this, too,” Jimmy said matter-of-factly. “In one of my made-up adventures, I thought it would be cool to have a path made of stone, carved out of a mountain that leads the way up.”

“Yeah, real cool,” Lem snapped, her arms draped around Sinsul’s neck, and despite all sound logic, wouldn’t stop looking down.

Off the sides, patches of flat darkness appeared every once in a while—Meird’s landscape far, far below. How far? No way for Jimmy to tell. The spirited wind shoved at them like it was intentionally trying to push them off the path from every side. Yet again, Bucky Brees’ vibe for certain. They had to keep low as they dug in and climbed. Breath rattled in their chests and grew thin with lack of oxygen as they ascended higher.

Lem shivered and chattered her teeth uncontrollably just like Jimmy. She performed weird stretches, like she might freeze in place if she didn’t move. Sinsul continued to help Lem out by carefully ushering her up the impossible slope.

Why am I doing okay, and she’s not? Jimmy wondered. He wasn’t really struggling with anything other than his attitude.

They scrambled over a snowy mound that reminded Jimmy of the watchful riddling sphinx he bested.

And at its peak intensity, the weather instantly calmed.

No wind. No snow.

Even the air was now breathable. Without realizing it, they had arrived at the top of the path. And at the peak of the challenging path, silhouetted against the skocean’s foamy spray, loomed something awful. Perching on a jutting rock like an eagle’s eyrie was a throne made entirely of a motley collection of giant teeth.

And there, gleaming at the end of an armrest made of interwoven tusks: rested the yellow fang!

Jimmy raised his hand, signaling his group to stop. Something was up. Too easy. Too simple.

Burks made a slashing motion, drawing his hand across his throat. Either he was announcing his imminent doom, or he found the ridiculously easy to find fang fishy, too.

Jimmy pointed to Sinsul, then to the throne, and cupped his ear. Anything? he mouthed.

Sinsul cocked his head like he was listening, his pale ears flickered. He shook his head, discouraged.

Jimmy took Francis out of his belly pouch and placed him on Sinsul’s saddle, in front of Lem. The cat cowered at being out in the open again. For once, Lem caved regarding her dog only policy on animals and scooped up the cat, cradling him in her arms.

Jimmy pointed to Sinsul again and gave him the stop sign with his hand to stay. He pointed to Burks, then his sheath, and motioned for him to follow.

Burks nodded, and together, they drew the sword, which took an eternity to show itself, but made no noise.

Jimmy pointed to Lem to stay with Sinsul, and she grabbed his arm, holding his gaze. Be careful, she mouthed. Her actions made Jimmy hesitate, but he nodded.

Jimmy and Burks approached the lonely throne of teeth like they were about to disarm a bomb. Jimmy poked the yellow fang with the point of their blade.

Solid…it didn’t give or cave in.

Jimmy held his breath. Now came the brave part. He acknowledged Burks with a nod, then bit his lip. They plunged the sword true and hard just beneath the fang, guessing where the Lurking’s neck might be if he were playing his invisible game.

They horribly whiffed on nothing but air and fell, crunching on the shadow snow. “Not here!” Jimmy whispered. Then he frowned.

So the fang was apparently real and set into the throne as if part of the deadly collection. Still too easy. Where did the Lurking go off to rest? Being invisible, who knew?

Jimmy took in a deep breath and pulled up his sleeve, ignoring the frigid conditions. Jimmy cautiously brushed the gathered shadow snow off the fang and wrapped his hand around the fang’s base.

Jimmy pulled, but the tooth wouldn’t give. He pulled harder. Come on. The tiny, saw-like edges of the oversized tooth bit into Jimmy’s palm, but it remained stuck fast. He pulled harder, cutting his hands.

“Tsssssk, tssssk,” sighed the fang he was holding.

“Yeeaaahh!” Against his will, Jimmy’s wrist flailed, and his arm stiffened and lifted like it was possessed; then his whole body flew into the air. Jimmy’s hand was yanked free of Burks’ and his sword, leaving them far below.

That explained the lack of wind or snow up here. The Lurking couldn’t risk giving himself away. Jimmy cursed his stupidity.

“But we stabbed you with the blade!” Jimmy pleaded.

“There’s no s-slicing the wind, s-silly” the Lurking replied, his face somewhere close. The arctic weather kicked back in, as if by a switch. Black sleet and snow burned down on them like scalding ash. The Lurking’s winds howled to life again, with wild breezes whipping in all directions.

Like he was on his own private staircase, the Night Terror scrambled up the air currents, dangling Jimmy over the lethal throne. The Lurking cruelly juggled Jimmy to another hand and then another. A white ring formed around Jimmy’s wrist, from the Lurking’s way-too-tight grip.

“Want to ssssit down, wittle Weve?” the wind teased in its beefed-up version of Bucky’s voice. The Lurking’s domed head and mole-like dark eyes came in and out of view in the blinding sleet, along with rows of prickly teeth and, of course, his notorious yellow fang.

With a terrified Lem and Francis still on his back white-knuckling and clawing the dreamcatcher ropes to stay on, Sinsul squealed and charged, but the Lurking’s downward gusts pushed the diminished horse down, effectively grounding him. The fierce warhorse tried to take off again and again, but in his shrunken state, the winds easily suppressed him once again. Sinsul gave a frustrated whinny, reduced to a helpless bystander.

“You let my little brother go!” Lem demanded, waving a fist at the Lurking.

“S-s-shure about that?” the Lurking responded.

Jimmy free fell about ten feet before he was caught with a violent jerk. The jolt caused Jimmy to involuntarily slam his teeth together, sure he cracked a molar.

“No!” Lem screamed.

Using the wind like an insane puppeteer, the Lurking jerked Burks’ sword out of his surprised grip, and in a series of quick thrusts and slashes, Sinsul’s saddle hung by only a thread of netting.

For one menacing blip, a dangerous orange spark replaced the blue one in Sinsul’s eye. The horse swelled like a shadowy illusion, and the dreamcatcher saddle grew with him, blowing like a torn giant cobweb in the wind.

Sensing Sinsul’s change happening beneath her feet, Lem screamed, and Francis yowled, taking shelter on her shoulders as Lem clenched the flapping saddle for dear life.

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Lem and then Charley got tangled in the fluttering ropes, attempting to free them. Charley barked his frustration.

“Ssssnip, sssnip?” The Lurking taunted, “long way down.”

“No! Don’t cut the saddle. What do you want?” Jimmy asked.

“Thiss! Watching you suffer, Wittle Weve,” the Night Terror teased with a slobbering hiss. The Lurking trashed Burks’ sword, flinging it deep into the swirling oblivion. “Now, about want I want?” The Lurking tapped his fingers on Jimmy’s head. Jimmy winced as the Lurking’s fingers might as well be steel drumsticks banging on his skull. The Lurking snapped his fingers. “Got it. I’ll take s-something you worked s-so hard to get!”

Jimmy instinctively covered his pocket with his hand.

“Thank you!” The Lurking whistled with glee, slashing open Jimmy’s pocket with one of his invisible icicle talons, helping himself to the emerald leaf wrapped around the sapphire droplet.

“Now, I’ll let you go!” the Lurking said, his voice circulating inside the assaulting winds.

With enough snow falling to expose some of his arms, the Lurking mocked drawing back a bow and fired a gust like an arrow, cutting the lone strand holding the dreamcatcher saddle on Sinsul’s back.

The cut dreamcatcher with Lem, Francis, and Charley all tangled or on it, teetered for a moment, and then slid off the horse’s back! The full-sized saddle knocked Lem off of her feet into the netting along with Francis. Charley got further tangled, and they rocketed off down the steep stone path, picking up speed; they disappeared from view.

“No!” Jimmy yelled.

Free of the dreamcatcher saddle, Sinsul wasn’t so tiny anymore. The warhorse—now a full-blown nightmare—expanded like an out-of-control fire of flickering shadowy flames until he was positively huge—maybe bigger than the old Sinsul.

The terrifying shadow loomed well in view despite all the sleet, and Sinsul let out a horrifying scream that tore the air in half.

Their once-tame horse friend rocketed off the side of the path in a diving glide, disappearing into the storm.

Jimmy gulped at the idea of them being trapped out in the open with an uncontrollable Sinsul roaming loose. He hoped they wouldn’t have to deal with the feral nightmare, but his gut told him otherwise.

“Now, you!” The Lurking said to Jimmy. “You wanted to ssee my throne up close? All yourss!”

But the Lurking leaned down a bit too close to Jimmy, and the second the Lurking let go of him, Jimmy seized the disgusting yellow fang in his hands.

“No!!” the Lurking cried out.

Jimmy gripped the fang with all of his might, blood streamed from his palms, dripping down, but he wouldn’t let go. Everything that had happened to get to this point came flashing in front of him, all of his frustrations, all of his anger. Use it! Dromon’s voice urged him on from inside his head. Jimmy gritted his teeth and just made out the Lurking’s pinpricks for eyes shocked in disbelief.

“We haven’t met,” Jimmy grinned. “I’m the Bard of Dreams. I own you,” Jimmy said, prying the fang with all of his might, and it popped out of the Lurking’s mouth, a repulsive mess with roots and all.

His joy was short-lived, as Jimmy cartwheeled through the air, falling toward the open mouth of the throne.

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