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the Danken … Wood. Such. We will visit the witch’s cottage and … and … examine it for clues. Yes! Clues to help me determine why … why … she left. Let’s swim.”
    My hair was wet. I was pulling on my highboot. The skin of my hands was wrinkled like as if I had been swimming for hours. Kar waddled backward, fluffing and shuddering her feathers.
    â€œBek, that was amazing. How did you do it?” she said.
    â€œDo what?” I tossed out carelessly, not knowing what I had done.
    â€œSwimming underwater all the way over to Clover and back three times! That’s what! Something is oddly strange. Not only stiff silence and no magic. But such else, too. With you. I’ve lost powers. Seems so such like you’ve gained ‘em,” answered Kar, and she flew around my head in little circles before adding, “But you can’t do this.”
    â€œNo, I can’t … fly,” I admitted, though I almost half felt like giving it a try. “You can fly. And what’s more, I’ll get you the … the … rest of your powers back, too.”
    I jumped to my feet, snatched a few blamberries from a nearby low thicket, jammed ‘em in my mouth, and slapped my shoulder, an order for Kar to settle there. She did. I strode firmly a ways by the river’s edge, scrunching with my boots on the gravel sandy shore. I pushed off the stiff silence with loud bendo dreen songs of the forge, of the shop, of Festivals, of story. I was the stubborn boulder around which flowed the stiff silence. Across the river to my right I saw the bright patch colors of Sadlar’s Garden in Clover. Many a Gwer drollek passed by or through that place. No time now to tarry. No time for a visit. I was on an important mission. Such was truly so. In the distance to my left and beyond the oat fields of the Boad, the tall pointy trees of the Danken Wood stabbed the sky. No time to visit the hutter conical cottage I noticed some distance off in the fields. Such.
    â€œThere. The witch’s edible cottage in the … the … Wood. We’re going there,” I said.
    Late afternoon brought us to the edge of the Danken Wood where it pressed down close to the river. I paused. Kar fluttered low beside me.
    â€œThere’s the boulder where we broke through the Barrier on the Carven Flute adventure,” said Kar.
    The boulder stood in the river surrounded by stiff frozen churn. I remembered. I touched the dead wooden tube of Jo Bree in my belt. It was on that very so such adventure I had won the right to possess it. I vowed silently to return to the Carven Flute its powers.
    â€œTo the … the … cottage,” I commanded.

Chapter Thirteen
    To the Abandoned Cottage
    With a purpose I walked the edge of the Wood by a tricklestream. Wood on my right, fields on my left, I moved in the darkening orange of dusk. Kar perched on my shoulder, flew off in a flutter, perched on my shoulder, flew off. She overflowed too full jumpy with nervousness to remain settled. Such was so.
    â€œIt’s going to be dark. We’ll lose our way. I wish I could shift to jrabe Rakara and sense us along,” she complained after completing one of her nervous flights.
    â€œClouds are scattered. Moons will guide us,” I answered shortly.
    So such seemingly satisfied, she sat for a spell, ridiculous silly with her blue plume feather. From the corner of my eye I could see her preening the tip feathers of her right wing tuft.
    â€œHa! Feather habits,” I commented.
    â€œWell, it’s one thing I can do,” she sulked.
    The moons, Jeth and Jith, arrived in the sky, both of ‘em three-quarters fat. Plenty of blue light lit the tricklestream and made long black shadows in the Danken Wood.
    â€œThe witch walked this very … path before she … she … conjured her cottage,” I thought and then said aloud to slice through the stiffness of silence.
    â€œGwer