leapt Durbin. He grabbed Da Hoot’s outstretched talon and knocked it to the side, just as it passed a hogspaw away Morro’s gut.
”Da Hoot reacted quickly, snatching Durbin in his talon as he turned towards the shore. He swooped down and slammed Durbin back-first into a snarled root, the claws of his talon wrapped around Durbin’s shoulders and waist. Da Hoot, furious, opened his jaw to attack—
“When suddenly he flinched and hooed, releasing his grasp on Durbin. Durbin sprung away from Da Hoot’s claws and saw Morro standing behind the owl, holding one of Da Hoot’s tail feathers that he had just painfully plucked.
“Durbin laughed as he punched and kicked up at Da Hoot, grabbing feathers and ripping them away. Morro too continued to yank on Da Hoot’s feathers until finally Da Hoot flew away, fed up at the food that fought him so.”
“They really did that!?” Bezra said, her knuckles sore from being clenched so tight as she listened to the exciting tale. “Amazing!”
“I don’t believe it!” Tyrus shouted. “There’s no way that stupid mouse could have knocked away an owl’s talon like that!”
“Brave is he who will jump into the owl’s grasp for a friend,” Elder Burkus said. “Maybe it’s a lesson that you shall some day learn.”
Tyrus grumbled as he slammed back down in on the ground, his arms crossed and his lip curled furiously. He grumbled to himself, just loud enough for his friends to hear. “Phooey that is. I still know the stupid owl ain’t real. He’s just telling fairy tales.”
Elder Burkus continued on with his story. ”As the day grew late and what little sun we had began to set, I had realized that Durbin and Morro had not yet returned. I grew worried, as I did not yet know of the courage and aptitude that Durbin held, so I put together a search party, including a dozen adults from Great Hollow.
“We set out along the trail, heading west as that was the last direction that the two had been seen going in. We stopped at several homes along the way and talked to the residents to gain an idea of where they might be.
“Eventually the rains stopped and the moon shone through the thick of the trees, igniting the forest in a blue radiance. When we reached Ios Timbers, about a larkscry southwest of the village, we saw Durbin and Morro suddenly appear over a hill, sailing their small leaf boat along the thin stream that trickled through the trail. Durbin stood proudly on the front, his paws on his hips and his head held high. And what did we see fluttering at the back of the boat like a flag? It was one of Da Hoot’s big gray feathers!”
The young ones erupted into a sea of cheers at the mention of Durbin’s great victory.
Elder Burkus took one last sip of his cider, emptying his mug.
“Ah,” he sighed, lowering the mug back onto the arm of the chair. “Well, as I’ve finished both my drink and my story, I think it’s time for you all to head home.”
“Oh,” the little ones all moaned.
“Do we have ta?” Timble asked.
“Best you all get going. It’s getting quite dark. Da Hoot will be out soon and none of you want to get caught by him, do you?”
“No!” the little ones gasped. Yet despite the warning of doom, they each took their time rising from their seats and headed out the door. Tyrus and his friends were amongst the last to leave. Finally it came down to just Elder Burkus and Bezra. Elder Burkus noticed the worried look on the poor squirrel’s face.
“What is it, dear?” Elder Burkus asked Bezra as she remained seated at his feet.
“Do you think Durbin and Morro will ever come back?”
“Oh, I’m as certain as the seasons,” Elder Burkus said. “As certain as the leaves will fall and the snow will melt. They will surely have a great adventure in the meantime, though. And I’m certain you will too.”
Bezra smiled wide as she slowly stood. “Thank you for the wonderful tale. How is it that you know what happened to Durbin and Morro so well?”
“There’s hardly a thing that happens in this forest that I don’t know,” Elder Burkus said, a sly smile on his face. “Now you’d best be running along.”
Bezra smiled as she hurried across the room and stepped out the front door. The entire village was quiet, as all the young critters had quickly scurried home when they found themselves in the dark forest. Bezra looked up and saw the moon, bright and full, just like the night that Durbin and Morro fought off Da Hoot. She slowly walked down the front steps, her ears listening sharply to all the sounds around.
As she continued walking along the main path, her smile slowly vanished. A cold chill swept over her.
She had just made it past Orilious’s bakery when she heard a loud sound from above.
“Hoo! Hoo!”
“Oh no!” Bezra gasped. She was too far Great Hollow to return so she dashed forward, zigzagging along the path, and dove into a thick bush. Her body shook with fear. Her jaw trembled. Her eyes began to fill with tears. She whispered to herself, “he’s here.”
She waited a few moments before slowly poking her head out of the bush. She looked around and saw no movement. She looked up to the sky and saw nothing but the bright moon and the outline of leaves high above in the canopy. Her house was not far now, three trees down the path and halfway up. If she hurried she knew she could make it.
With one great breath, she leapt out of the bush and ran. Her feet skidded across the leafy, dirty ground but she kept going. Halfway there—
“Hoo! Hoo!”
The sound was closer now!
Bezra ran and ran and finally arrived at her tree. She slid under a root and looked up. No movement.
She quickly bounced back up from under the root and scurried up the side of the tree. Clawing at the bark, she quickly scaled the tree, spinning a half turn around, until she reached the thick branch that her home sat on. She dashed into the tight hole to her house and stopped, just on the edge. Curiously, she stuck her head out once more. As she looked around, she could hear laughter echoing out of a nearby tree. She bit her lip as she recognized that laugh; Tyrus!
Tyrus and three of his friends could not control their chuckles. He nearly tumbled off the branch that he was perched on as he laughed so hard.
“That stupid squirrel!” Tyrus said. “I can’t believe she thought it was real!”
“Ya do a good owl impersonation!” one of his friends chuckled.
“I do, don’t I!?” Tyrus laughed. He cupped his paws over his lips once more and tilted his head back. “Hoo! Hoo!”
The sound faded away into the quiet of the village once more, when suddenly a great noise came from further up in the sky, tearing apart the silence.
“HOO! HOO!”
This hoo was much louder, echoing around the entire village like a siren.
Tyrus and his friends squealed with fright as they leapt down the side of the tree.
“It’s him!” one of Tyrus’s friends shouted. “Da Hoot!”
“I don’t believe it! He is real!” Tyrus cried as they reached the ground. The four of them looked around as they ran across the village. They scattered in different directions, eventually disappearing in the thick of the trees.
Elder Burkus laughed heartily to himself as he sat on the edge of a window high up near the top of Great Hollow. He lowered the wooden horn that he held in his paws.
“Well, I’ve been told that I do a mighty fine impersonation of an owl myself!”
He put the horn to his lips and blew once more.
“HOO!”
If you enjoyed Magefable Adventures, please check out the other books in the Magefable Saga. Book I, Magefable, book II, Talonridge, and coming soon book III, Korel! They are available on Amazon, on magefable.com, and on all your favorite e-reading devices!
HEIMDALL THUNDERHAMMER
Heimdall Thunderhammer was born where the rocky tor meets the frigid shore. His home a rustic village sitting upon a cliff below an ever-stormy gray sky. And during the time of year when the frost clings to the roots of the trees, the northern lights can be seen glimmeri
ng off the far horizon. The small cottage in which Heimdall Thunderhammer was born sits on the far eastern edge of the village, mingled amongst the wharfs and jetties.
From the time that he figured out how to set a hook and trawl a net, he voyaged out to sea on his father’s boat. While on the bounty, Heimdall learned to draw maps and to navigate using only sun stones by day and the placement of the stars by night. During the downtimes between catching fish and rigging the sails, his father and the other fishermen told him the tales of his ancestors and their gods. The moment Heimdall heard these stories and learned to read he knew that he would grow up to be a writer himself and weave such tales as he had heard on the swaying tides of his youth.
It was while out at sea that the inspiration for his writing struck. He spotted two mice on the bow of the ship, both seemingly oblivious to the existence of the human crew. The mice were perched on the gunwhale, their gaze focused on the far horizon, with a sparkle of adventure glimmering in their tiny eyes. Where had they come from? And what great journey awaited them?
When he asked those questions out loud, his father proceeded to tell Heimdall about the great beasts of the world, not only of the mice and other such forest critters, but of lions and dragons and similar beasts that Heimdall had never seen. And his father and the other fisherman told Heimdall of geomancy, the magic of such critters. Magic based on the six elements of nature. And so it was while pondering the adventures of those two mice and the