"Well, what is the right answer if you're so smart?" Dennis asked. "I don't know," he replied. He made a mental note to ask his brother when he saw him again.
Fewla waded her way through a wide but shallow river that was an offshoot of the Great River of the North.
She was making her way home to the Highlands of Viaria in the North of Fairyland, and once she crossed the river, she'd have an easy jaunt across the Viarian Meadows beneath the highlands.
She shook the water from her legs which had grown stronger in the days since the caves, and she looked across the expansive meadows. The cold breeze bent the tall grasses toward the morning sun.
She made her way through the meadows, sending flocks of birds into the air as she came near them.
She feasted on handfuls of the meadow grass - there was something about the grass in the North that you just didn't taste elsewhere in Fairyland. Fewla took her time.
The sun was at its highest point, and although the air was still chilly, Fewla laid down to rest and enjoy the faint warmth against her pelt.
She was washed over by the shade of passing clouds then washed over again by soft sunshine. She found shapes in the clouds.
Here was a turtle, there a sleeping bear, a man, a dwarf, and his cloudy brother.
As she stared up, the sky began to darken as more clouds filled in the gaps of blue sky. She stood to walk, but before she was full upright, she smelled something off in the distance.
She couldn't quite put her nose on it, but it was a familiar smell. She crouched below the high grasses and looked back in the direction from which she'd come.
There was small knoll in between her and the smell, but she was curious, so she made her way closer.
Staying in a crouch, she slowly walked up the side of the knoll until her eyes were even with its crest.
In the distance far across the meadow, she could make out five dark figures who were silently making their way Northeast in the direction of the Shrouded Mountains.
They moved smoothly, as if they were traveling in a canoe rather than by foot. At the tail end of the group was a figure that was stumbling along as if he had canoes rather than feet.
It was his scent she recognized.
"Goom!" she whispered, but even so, she sent a flock of birds into the air. She dropped to the ground behind the knoll.
After some time had passed, she once again peaked her head up and over the knoll. To her relief, the figures had continued moving in their same direction.
Goom was wrapped about in a length of rope like some kind of dwarf spool. The end of the rope was in the pale hand of one of the cloaked figures.
Fewla didn't know much about what dwarves like to do for fun, but she really felt like Goom was not enjoying himself. He stopped and bent forward with visual exhaustion.
One of the cloaked figures turned, made a finger-gun with his left hand, and Goom with a bolt of crackling blue energy. Goom cried out and fell to his knees in pain.
Fewla knew that Goom had to be rescued, but she knew that she couldn't do it on her own. She'd never even shot a finger-gun before.
If she was going to rescue Goom, Fewla would need the help of the strongest wizard she knew.
Unfortunately, Eist Galerider was half a world away, so she'd have to settle for the only other wizard she knew: Murt Yellowbelt.
She remained hidden until the Ulimni had passed. Then she headed for the Gellring Foothills.
The journey was so swift and uneventful, that we can just skip over the whole thing and pick up with her later.