Trixter Read Online Free PDF Page B

him behind his back for centuries upon centuries upon... How long had the gods been gods, anyway? Not that it mattered. Everything happened for a reason, just like Mama always said.
    At a loss, Trix concentrated on finishing his task. His dagger disappeared into the golden mess over and over again, blindly hacking into the stinky dead flesh with the goal of simply making it through to the other side. The sun continued to rise and Trix began to sweat into the lingworm's blood and flesh as he stepped further and further inside the carcass (losing his one remaining shoe in the process). When his right arm began to fail him, he sliced with his left, again and again and again. When he encountered bone, he pushed his body into the worm’s neck with all his weight until he heard a crack . And just when he began to lose hope of ever finishing, the head of Wisdom fell away before him.
    Truth and Compassion cheered. Trix might have too, but for the golden blood that now covered him in yet another layer from head to toe.
    “Now take Wisdom back to the ocean," said Truth. "You must carry him as we carried you for a time."
    One good turn deserved another. That was not something Mama always said, but it should have been. Trix wove his hands deep into the hairs that covered the top and back of Wisdom's head, mindful of the deadly indigo spikes there. The hairs were soft and hollow, crushing beneath his fingers as he found purchase in the locks. Where they bent, the indigo disappeared from the shafts, leaving them colorless. It made Trix think of the ink the great squid had released, and of his poet sister, Wednesday, with her penknife always at hand. This much ink in this many quills would have set her up forever. It was almost a shame to toss it into the sea. Perhaps, with luck, the damaged head would find its way to Faerie, where Wednesday played apprentice with their Aunt Joy. Wednesday would know what to do with it. Wednesday would not be afraid. In Trix's eyes, Wednesday had more Wisdom than this head could ever hold.
    The head of Wisdom was heavy and unwieldy. Step by slow step, he dragged it with him into the sea.
    “Wash yourself, Golden Boy," said Compassion.
    “You’re fey enough to live a long life without the help of our blood," said Truth.
    The lingworm's words continued to baffle Trix. No one could know how long anyone might live, but then, he'd have thought no one could know he was going to exist once upon a time ago. Or better, know that he could talk to animals. Why hadn't all the animals he'd played with as a child told him this before?
    Trix had thought to heave the head over his shoulder and into the surf, but the reality of that plan proved impossible. Trix dragged the head behind him into the sea until it was deep enough in the water to lead the way. Trix let Wisdom pull him under a bit before allowing the head to roll away, down the rest of the hill that used to be a hayfield, to the bottom of this magical ocean, wherever that used to be.
    If this ocean ever went away again, some farmer was going to find quite a surprise in his yard. Goodness…what would Mama say? Thankfully, if this chaos had consumed the towerhouse, then his haphazard wish had saved the Woodcutters as well. He silently thanked the gods once more. He hoped they weren’t tired of hearing from him.
    Trix flipped and dove in the waves, swimming strong, as the fish in the river had taught him to swim. (Not like the fish in the cow pond had taught him, for they were lazy.) He shook vigorously, darting in and out through the underwater hay in an effort to clean himself. As he came back to shore he rubbed at his skin, making sure every speck he could reach was free of blood and mud. His mind might not be settled inside, but his body could be clean on the outside.
    As Trix walked back to the lingworm through the new tidal surf, something bumped into his bare ankle. He reached down and pulled up what looked like a long, white stone. Upon further