Gargly was much more subdued as he led Lemon to the edge of the swamp. Gone was the bullying attitude, the snide remarks, and the petty meanness. Instead, he hopped along quietly, made no complaints when she wanted to go around water instead of through it, and when it wasn’t possible, kept close to her while she swam the width of whatever river was in their way.
Maybe it was just that he’d come in during the aftermath after she’d defeated the swamp hag, or maybe it was that, after claiming Agurg’s magic stick, Lemon had finished knocking down the already tottering cottage with a few well-placed barks. Either way, she found she liked the gigantic toad better when he was quiet.
It took about an hour or so, but eventually, blessedly, she started to see colors that weren’t gray, brown, or pale, sickly green again. She even found a relatively clear and clean stream at the outer edges of the swamp where the ground had firmed up and grass had started to grow to swim around in. Gargly shot the clear water a disgusted look and hopped back to avoid Lemon’s splashing.
“There you go. You’re out of my swamp, I’m rid of one swamp hag. Everybody wins.” He stopped to give an evil little chuckle. “Everyone except Agurg. Don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t come back.”
“Don’t let me catch anyone doing any more Bad Magic around here and I won’t,” Lemon said while she paddled back and forth in the clear water.
Gargly just croaked once, waddled himself in a half-circle, and hopped back off into the swamp. Lemon hoped it would become a lot less foul now that the hag who lived there was gone. Either way, she wasn’t going back in there to check. That was just something she’d let Hogarth know about and he could take care of it.
Lemon took an hour for herself. She cleaned herself up, had a good shake afterwards and rolled around in the grass, then ate a few sausages, drank her fill of good, clean water, and carefully refilled her water bowl using Wizard’s Hand. It was a lot harder to pick up water than rocks, but she was persistent and eventually got the entire bowl full. It was only after it was safely stored away in her messenger bag that she had the idea to just hold the bowl and dip that into the stream. Oh well, maybe next time.
She took a minute to check her map and confirm that yes, she was now in the grassy spot to the left of the gray spot (she knew because now that she was out of the swamp, she’d swapped her alchemist’s mask back for her spectacles). There was a road farther to the left, and she just needed to follow that up through a town called Tamble’s Crossing, which was in a valley between two mountains. That would be fun. She’d never been on a mountain hike before.
Before all of that though, she needed another good roll in the grass and to take a quick nap. All that hag fighting had tuckered her right out.
* * *
Lemon… was not good at telling time. Most dogs weren’t, but she was so good at so many things regular dogs couldn’t do, it always felt like a personal failing. No matter how many attempts she made to correct that, she just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. And Midnight made fun of her, even though Lemon was pretty sure Midnight couldn’t tell time either.
Regardless, when Lemon woke up, the sun was directly overhead, and since that was what she’d been using to tell which direction she needed to go, she found herself once again, unfortunately, lost. She knew she needed to go towards the sun once it started going back down, but she didn’t know how long that would take.
She could pick a direction and hope it was right, or wait a few hours and be sure. If she guessed wrong, she’d have to backtrack and waste even more time, so it seemed like her best move was to just stay put for a bit. Besides, she liked the spot she was at now. It was clean, and had interesting smells, and no toads.
Actually, now that she put her nose to it, what was that smell? It wouldn’t hurt to find out while she waited for the sun to move a bit and tell her which direction to go. Lemon put her nose down to the dirt and sniffed around, then set off following the smell.
It was strong, and musty, not something she’d smelled before. It was strongest on trees and leaves just above where she could sniff without getting up on her hind legs to reach higher. Lemon spent a lot of time sniffing random trees as she followed the scent deeper into the woods and away from the river.
It wasn’t until she came to a cave with a wide-mouth that she found it. There was an animal in there, many times bigger than her, with shaggy brown fur, and fast asleep. She took one look at the long claws coming off its paws, at its head that was the size of her whole body, and its rounded ears already twitching.
That was another familiar animal from her book of letters. B was for bear, and Hogarth told her that they were territorial and ate other animals. If she ever saw one, she was to turn around and leave, and quickly. So that was exactly what Lemon did.
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She spun in place, hustled her way directly away from the bear, and didn’t stop until she couldn’t smell its musk on the trees anymore. That thing was way bigger than the book had made it out to be! It was a good thing that bears liked naps just as much as dogs did.
On the bright side, the sun had shifted enough for her shadow to point in a specific direction again. Lemon started following it, realized when the ground began to turn gray and muddy again that she needed to walk away from her shadow now, turned around, and made her way back to the stream, where she stopped for a snack and another drink.
The idea of a second nap was tempting, very tempting, but she’d spent enough time wandering around. Master Hogath was still depending on her, after all. Lemon reoriented herself so that her shadow was now chasing her, double checked her map, and started going in a straight line. At some point in time, she would find a road, the same one that curved all the way around Harpy Woods, and would follow that towards the top of the map into the mountains.
She just needed to keep walking until she found the road. That was impossible to miss, as long as she went left. Any minute now, she’d see it. Any minute. Yep. It wasn’t that far away, only a paw’s width on the map.
The sun had moved a lot by the time she did finally find the road. It was a wide thing, big enough for a pair of wagons to pass each other without squeezing, made of hard-packed dirt with a few deep ruts carved into it. Lemon walked on it for a little bit, then decided she liked walking on the grass better. It felt better on her paws, plus she could still smell all the interesting smells on the road.
There were horse smells, and oil smells, and metal and wood from wagons that had gone by not too long ago. She could also smell grain, which was okay, she guessed. Hogarth used it to make bread sometimes, and that tasted good, but the grain itself was yucky. Turning that into something tasty was one magic she would love to learn, but Hogarth never had time to teach her.
There were other food smells too, carrots and potatoes and onions, and occasionally the poop smell of a farmer who had lots of cows, just like poop-kid’s dad back home. What was his name again? Lemon couldn’t remember. It started with an ‘S’ or something. Or maybe that was food-kid.
Her inner musing was distracted by a one-donkey cart coming from the other direction. A man walked next to it, one who smelled like farm dirt, stew, and sweat. Or wait, no, the sweat was from the donkey, which was lathered up and breathing hard.
The farmer was looking back behind him when Lemon spotted them. He walked with one hand on the donkey’s flank and the other holding a straw hat against a stray breeze, and was breathing just as hard as his donkey. Lemon let out a short greeting bark to get his attention.
“Waah!” the man said, jumping and spinning towards the noise. He had the face wrinkles people got when they stopped being kids for some reason, and a scraggly beard hanging off his face, a pale imitation of a thick luxurious coat of fur. But it was the best humans could do, and she didn’t hold it against them. He peered over at Lemon, who gave him her best doggy grin and friendly tail wagging.
“Oh, you gave me a fright, doggo,” he said. “Thought you was, but no… too early in the day still. What’re you doing out here all alone? You get lost? Hmm, you got a collar, so you’re not a stray.”
Lemon approached the man, tail still wagging, and said, “My name’s Lemon. What’s yours?”
“Holy s-! You can talk! Is this a joke?” Farm-man peered around, as if looking for someone else who was hiding and speaking for her.
“No, not a joke. I’m a magic dog.”
Farm-man stared at her for a second, his jaw working but nothing coming out of his mouth, then shook his head and huffed out a laugh. “Well how ‘bout that. Well, Miss Talking Dog, you’d best get heading south with me. Not safe up north no more.”
“Why?” Lemon asked, peering down the road past the farmer. “Did something happen?”
“Boy, I’ll say. Whole valley’s being terrorized. A dang vampire set up shop in some old castle, and he’s not messing around. Got all sorts of monsters working for him, terrorizing honest folks, keeping ‘em penned in while the sun’s up so he can come have himself a drink after it’s gone down.”
Lemon wasn’t really sure what a vampire was, but he sounded bad. Maybe even Bad Magic like the swamp hag and the harpies. There sure did seem to be a lot of that on this trip. This whole vampire business sounded complicated, and she’d already done enough of stopping Bad Magic from happening for one trip. At this rate, by the time she reached the conference, it would already be over.
She pulled her map out of her bag and held it up to show farm-man. “I need to go to this spot here, Kapsulon. The map says to go through this valley into Tamble’s Crossing.”
“Bramble’s Crossing,” farm-man corrected absently.
“Right, that.”
“Don’t go. Wait until someone gets rid of the vampire,” farm-man said seriously, still eyeing the map up. “Or, if you have to go, go around the mountains here. It’ll add an extra two weeks, but it’s safer that way.”
Lemon didn’t have two weeks. If she was going to take that long, she might as well just give up and go back home. By her figuring, she had between one and four days, probably. Counting was not one of her strengths.
“I can’t go around. I have to get o Kapsulon as soon as possible.”
“Look, Miss Talking Dog-”
“Lemon.”
“Right, sorry. Miss Lemon. Look, maybe you don’t know what a vampire is. You go into Bramble’s Crossing, you won’t come back out, ever. Best just turn back.”
“Sorry, I can’t.”
Farm-man blew out a sigh and shook his head. “Your funeral. Be careful. Don’t you go in when it’s dark out. Wait for the sun to come up if you have to, and make sure you’re in a house when it does get dark. Don’t go roaming around at night, you hear?”
“I will. Thank you.”
Farm-man grumbled something that Lemon chose to interpret as a ‘you’re welcome.’ Then he got his donkey moving again, and left Lemon alone by herself on the road.
“Miss Lemon, huh? I like that.” Lemon started trotting up to Tamble’s Crossing, and idly considered ways she could get Midnight to address her as ‘Miss Lemon’ in the future.