Meanwhile, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the river, Grimmbros, Fürgůïn and a wood elbh whose name no one had yet bothered to ask crossed the meadowlands north east of Tullgotha. At a suitable point, they stopped to examine the elbh’s injured leg.

"Mr Grimmbros sir, there's nothing for it, it's broken," the patient moaned as Grimmbros poked the limb in question with a stick. "You'll have to fix it."

Renling and urgh-bane exchanged helpless glances and looked around themselves as if expecting a solution to somehow present itself. When their eyes met they engaged briefly in a battle of eyebrow movements and surreptitious head angling, each intended to suggest that the other had an obligation to do something. The elbh sighed loudly, wondering how it was that creatures like these hadn’t died out and become extinct long ago.

“There's a wood ahead,” Fürgůïn observed, “perhaps we can get a good strong stick and tie his leg to it. Doesn't that work?”

Grimmbros shrugged and agreed, "Can't hurt." His Chicken-Scratching days had involved breaking things more often than fixing them, however, he had picked up a rudimentary understanding of emergency first-aid. 

“Unless it hurts!” the elbh grumbled. 

“Which I imagine it will,” returned the urgh-bane. 

The enthused renling was, nevertheless ambling off in the direction of the nearby woods with Grimmbros close behind, leaving the immobile elbh whimpering pessimistically in the grass.

Both disappeared into the trees for a while. A distant rustling noise was heard and a loud snap, followed by a thud and some unkind laughter, soon both were returning triumphantly, stick in hand.

"Look what Grimmbros got!" Fürgůïn called out jubilantly, waving the intended splint and doing a few quick, sword-like sweeps and swashbuckling stabs at a bug in the air out of excitement.

Soon, the dejected elbh was precariously wobbling atop Grimmbros' ample shoulders with a bit of stick stuck up one trouser leg, urgh-bane and renling feeling quite proud of themselves. In this manner the three travellers progressed, following the line of the woods for a while before the elbh stopped them. “Someone’s there,” he said.

At the very edge of the treeline, a cloaked figure silently stood as if a natural aspect of the lush frondescence surrounding him. 

“Oi, he looks dubious,” Fürgůïn muttered, but Grimm was already striding purposefully toward the stranger and so the renling followed uncertainly behind, registering further objections under his breath in case of a later need to say ‘I told you so’. 

“Ho!” Grimm called as the figure stepped forward out of the cover of the trees to meet them. 

“Hunting?” the stranger asked, rather knowingly. 

“Who’s asking?” the urgh-bane challenged. 

“He is,” Furguin pointed out, wondering why that wasn’t obvious to everyone. The figure grasped a long metal-tipped spear in his hand and wore the kind of boots that looked all purposeful and serious. Grimm strode to within a few yards of the newcomer and stared him directly in the eye. 

“You seek a foul creature in possession of an important item,” the voice issued from the shadow of the heavy grey cowl, “It heads north. You are not the only ones that appear to be in pursuit.” 

“We don't want any fowl features!” Furguin interjected, “You head north!” 

“And who exactly might you be?” Grimm enquired. 

“Yeah,” Furguin chimed in from behind Grimm, “Who exactly might you be? Exactly?”

“Primate, in exile, of Tullgotha, Kapucha to the Capuchin monks.* I saw your quarry pass this way.”

 * The Capuchin monks were held in great respect in the city of Tullgotha, many having taken the solemn oath of incoherence.

*****

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Shuffling uneasily within his coat of webs, the dream shifted again and Razzles found himself sitting at a school desk strewn with charts, papers and maps. He saw his name written on one. Why? Why would someone write his name? Why did it matter? For a while he thought he was alone, caught in a solitary shaft of dusty light about to be tested on something for which he hadn’t prepared.* His stomach twisted into a tight knot. But he was not alone, across from him at what seemed, at the same time, both unrealistically afar off and uncomfortably close, a committee of individuals appeared to be discussing his future, committing him to pursuits beyond his capabilities. 

* This was a recurring dream for Razzles, he would be back in school surrounded by knohmlets, however, he would always be his current age and unable to recall any of the information he was supposed to have studied. He would toss and turn, becoming hot and anxious before waking in a cold sweat. He also had dreams about flying, but he was never able to get more than a foot or two above the ground and his beard would invariably catch in something like a bramble or a thistle causing him to awaken with a startling bump.

At a wooden lectern, a disgruntled Grimmbros was gesticulating and demanding an explanation as to why the negligent knohm didn’t appear to have a plan. To his right the cloud lady kept giving him odd ultimatums regarding a long journey and telling him he could be sent off at any time; did he have the right visor and did he have his bags packed? He didn’t. Norris was there too, but appeared to have fainted, whilst Ebore stood hands on hips, evidently expecting Razzles to assist her in some manner that would clearly strain his back.

Again, the flustered knohm’s head was spinning, his neck hurt and the expectations upon him were too great. Fürgůïn, was once more providing a stirring score. The renling seemed to have progressed to full symphonic mode now; he was dancing on the classroom globe, his sonic sources all aquiver, a piece of chalk gripped by a scrawny hand as he manoeuvred it like a conductor’s baton emphasising each note. He was clearly performing some stirring, dramatic overtures with bombastic flow and heaving grandeur. Grimmbros reached over to grip Razzles’ elbow, which made it hurt badly, pressing for elucidation, causing him to shrink back with uncharacteristic annoyance crying, “Get your hands off me you dim, dirty ape!”  

Then the dreams abruptly ended. Blackness flooded in like the thickest ink poured into water. Just the echoing sound of silent music on an imaginary wind: da, da da daah - dah - da, da da daaah! 

*****

At the edge of the woods, Grimmbros questioned the cowled figure, “Well, Kapucha of Tullgotha, how exactly do you know about our... quarry? What do you know about this ‘item’ and this beest?”

“Yeah, primate monkey man! And those fowl things!” the confused renling added.

“Just that it passed this way, clutching something clearly not belonging to it. You’re off the road and from the way he has been peering into the grass you look like you're tracking something. Am I right?"

"Don't tell him," Fürgůïn hissed, "I don't like it!" He especially didn’t like being seen looking at grass and seeing nothing but an assortment of colourful bugs and animal droppings by someone who might know better. 

"You're heading the wrong way. You need to go north, through these very woods at my back." The Kapucha didn't wait for a reaction, instead he paced off along the tree line in the general direction of the toll bridge or what was left of it. Perhaps he was headed for the city beyond.

Grimmbros and Fürgůïn watched his departing back for a while and then looked at each other. They turned and peered into the mass of endless trees; the woods looked dense, overgrown. Fürgůïn didn't like it, the bugs hadn’t indicated a need to ramble the woodlands, although the droppings were ambiguous, but then he didn’t like to examine them too closely anyway.

“I don’t like it. Who does he think he is, hanging out with a bunch of monkeys doesn’t give him...”  

“There's a path!” Grimmbros interrupted, “Look! There! Let's get going. The more space we can put between ourselves and that lot back there the better. Those reprobates aren't likely to let things lie.”

Fürgůïn knew he was right, sooner or later Ignatious and Egmord would find a way to cross the river and it would likely take more than some impressively displaced underwear to keep them at bay next time.

The path through the woods actually looked quite bright and inviting with the sun stabbing through the foliage, dappling the way with warm light. Butterflies and colourful beetles fluttered and scurried out of the way as the travellers entered. Bluebells spread a carpet of hazy violet as far as the eye could see.

“This isn’t so bad,” the renling chirped, his spirits rising, "hidden among the trees and on our way again!”

“Makes me almost want to wax lyrical,” Grimmbros rumbled with more than a touch of sarcasm.

“Trust you to want to whack something. Where did you go? You know, when you vanished that time?”

“I'll whack you in a minute. What do you mean? When I tested out the device at Tullgotha?”

“Tested? Fiddled with it more like. Yeah, then. Look, you're walking all over the bluebells!”

“What do you expect, the path's too small! I just vanished, alright?” Grimm didn’t know where he’d gone when he accidentally triggered the device and the woman he'd seen made him uncomfortable.

“You know, you two are almost as annoying as all these swarming mosquitoes,” observed the elbh.

“You want to see annoying?” retorted the renling. “Hang round long enough, you'll see annoying.”

Fürgůïn contemplated filling his air sacs to deliver a withering whistle, but restrained himself in the knowledge that his was not a craft to be employed lightly. Grimmbros saw the look on Fürgůïn’s face and cuffed him roughly across the back of the head. The renling's whale-like screech would send birds flying in all directions, alerting pursuers and pursuees. Fürgůïn gave a hurt look at the lack of appreciation for his self control.