The door was dark brown and bark-like in texture, appearing ancient along with the stone. The other interesting thing about it was the size, for it was half as tall as a normal door, and three times more narrow. Harley prodded it with the end of her stick and then gave it a firm push. It didn’t budge. It was just as well, her uneasiness returned stronger than ever and she grabbed James by the arm to leave.

“Ouch! That hurt, Harley!” said James as he dropped his net and began rubbing his arm.

“Ugh. James, come on. Let’s go back to the apple trees, OK?” said Harley. She picked up the pockmarked stick of the net and tried to hand it back to her brother.

“No trespassing!”

Harley jumped in shock as James spun around, his motion colliding into her, and tangled together they both fell to the ground. Standing in front of them was a small old man with bushy white eyebrows, a worn red shirt, sagging pants, and pockets stuffed full of rocks. He pressed out his suspender straps with his thumbs and squinted as if trying to get a read on the situation.

“You’re a gnome!” said James with excitement.

“Of course I am. What else would I be?” the man grumbled as he took a lumpy rock from his pocket and placed it into his mouth as if eating a grape.

“Is that Dolomyte?” asked James.

“Is that Dolomyte?! I’m afraid not. This is plain forest rock and doesn’t taste half as good. Now what do you two want?”

Harley’s mouth hung open as she tried to find words to say something. It was her first time seeing a gnome besides the ornamental ones in Mom’s garden, and no amount of fantasy reading or daydream doodling could have prepared her for the real thing.

“We need a place to stay,” blurted out James.

“No—oh no. We actually have to get going,” said Harley as she came to her wits.

“But you said it yourself, Harley!” said James.

“I said we need shelter, there’s a difference.”

“Hmph, well maybe he knows the way to Risanburg.”

Risanburg. Maybe James had a point. Yes—that was worth asking.

“Mr. Gnome,” said Harley in the most polite manner she could muster. “Could you please tell us how to get to the town of Risanburg?”

“You’ll have to go through Cutter’s Gate,” said the gnome, raising his bushy eyebrows. “And I’m not sure if you’ll make it to be truly honest—you’ve been marked by the fae. I can tell by how the trees are watching.”

“I’m marked?! What the hell does that mean?” said Harley.

“It means the fairies got you.”

“I’m going to die?” said Harley, her agitation replaced with dread.

“Well, most end up dying sooner or later. It certainly invites trouble,” said the gnome.

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Harley slumped back against the mound and dropped to the soil in throes of despair. It didn’t seem to matter what she did in this place—everything was out to get her.

“Can you get rid of the mark?” asked James.

“No, not out here, there’s too many eyes watching,” replied the gnome as he looked around.

James frowned. “Then where?”

“Nowhere, I regret to say,” said the gnome, pulling on his chin with a contemplative look. “I said no trespassing, remember? My dear brother Berwick isn't fond of strangers.”

“Wait a minute!” said James as he hurried to empty his pockets. After removing three apples and an odd piece of string, he pulled out a black gadget. “We can make a trade. If you help my sister, then I’ll give you the Refractor. My friend Tinker made it.”

“Did you just say Tinker?” The gnome looked astonished.

“I sure did!” said James, jumping up. “Do you know him too?”

The gnome chewed his bottom lip, rubbed his bald head, and then ignored the question. “Let me look at that,” he said, stepping forward with his palm held out. “Hand it here.”

Hesitantly, James placed the gadget into the small hand of the old gnome.

The gnome inspected it closely, bringing it close to his face, then holding it in the air above his head. “Fascinating,” he mumbled to himself. “Clearly a gnomish device. Berwick will want a look at this.”

“Do you know Tinker?” James asked again.

“Of course I do! That youngster is my nephew. A fine gnome, one of the brightest.” said the gnome as he held the gadget like a treasure to be kept secret. He sighed and said, “So you need a place to stay?”

“Uh-huh. This is your house, right?” said James, pointing his finger at the mound.

“No, it’s not my house, it’s Borten’s house. After all, he’s the oldest. Now then, let’s review a few rules—one, no nets in the house. And two, no sticks. I won’t have a pair of humans making a mess of things. Leave ‘em here by the door if you wish. The third rule is no rabble-rousing, and the fourth, no sneaks. I mean it! No breaking or taking our things. Last but not least, the fifth rule—no altering the stew. It took me a hundred years of trial and error to get the perfect boil and Lord knows I don’t have another hundred years to fix whatever curiosity ruins the pot.”

And with his lecture said and without time for questions, the gnome opened the ancient door and walked into the mound with a shout, “Wake up Berwick! Take a look at this!”

The first drops of rain landed noisily on the tree tops as the dark sky rumbled a warning.

Harley didn’t stand up. She looked down at the ground.

What’s the point of shelter when I’m already doomed—let the lightning strike me now.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tight with her arms.

“Are you OK, Harley?” asked James. He crouched down with his face next to hers.

“I don’t know, James,” said Harley. “I just don’t know.”

“He said we can stay.”

“I know, it’s not that.” She looked down at the cut on her hand. It hurt more than ever.

“Does your hand hurt?” James perked up. “We can see if they have a band-aid.”

“Oh James...” said Harley with the tiniest of smiles. “Never change, OK?”

“Can we go in now? It’s really starting to rain,” said James.

Harley raised her face to the sky and a raindrop landed squarely on her forehead. Her eyes shut. A worry that festers is a terrible thing, and now her worries were a great number more. The rain became a steady drizzle as she recounted the troubles in her head: the uncertain way home, the fairies’ mark, the watching trees and the loss of Johan. The troubles of a lifetime condensed to a day, her death coming without the expectation of decades well-lived. But James was with her now, and she had to be brave. She had to keep going.

Opening her eyes to reality, Harley stood up and took James by the hand, then she led the way through the door of the ancient house. She was leaving a strange world and entering another, and sheltering with real-life gnomes wasn’t a scenario she ever imagined. Not that any part of today had been something she’d ever dreamed up.

As thunder rumbled, she trembled, and she pushed out the thought that Johan might be out there alone. Maybe he’d never fallen into the hole at all. Maybe he’d been lucky. It wasn’t probable, but it was possible.

She certainly hoped so for his sake.