Elise Runs and Dorothy Falls

Chapter 8

Elise looked into the water but couldn't see the bottom. She saw nothing but the deepest blue green.

"What is this place, Dorothy?"

"Mt. Olomo." The witch and Elise had been sitting quietly for some time. From a standing spot near the other side of the pool, the magician stirred the water with her bune wand not unlike a great soup. She did so with one hand as if looking for something.

"I've never seen a... feature like it before."

Dorothy looked up. Elise had sat down on a dry tuft and drawn her knees toward her chest. Her hair and turquoise dress looked a little windblown, but not so out of place considering her hair often got unruly and her dress often ruffled. Her gentle grey eyes looked a little less sure than usual, however, and her eyebrows (darker and just a little fuller than most) seemed less focused. In her countenance Dorothy detected apprehension.

"Think it's called a pluralmonte. A mountain of 'many hills'." Elise continued to regard the witch cautiously. Obviously something remained on her mind, and she had to know. She stood up.

"Are you mad that you helped me?"

From head to toe, Dorothy stood about one inch taller than Elise, although with shoes Elise stood just as tall. From across the pond, neither appeared much larger or smaller than her counterpart. Dorothy pulled her bune wand from the water; observed its warm gostrium crystal spinning in the nest of stick ends at one side. Its green mint lights shocked the surface below.

"You know what happens to a witch like me when she's caught?" asked Dorothy. "She's brutalized for all to see, she's bled and burned, and then she's finally destroyed. So yeah, I'm mad. I'm I don't know why you were runnin' through that stupid town in the first place."

Elise's face got hot. "Well I'm sorry my parents were murdered!"

"Yeah? Well sorry mine were, too."

For a moment they heard only the sound of wind in a sea of grass. Sensitively, Elise made her way around the side of the pond then. She stood beside Dorothy, who didn't look up.

"We're both just kids," Elise whispered. "And now, well... it looks like all we have is each other."

Purring, Germón rubbed between their feet. Dorothy bent down and scooped him up. "Ye," she replied. "Guess so."

Later, the girls settled onto the driest tuft in the little valley between the hills; Dorothy laid down the empty sack between them like a picnic cloth. They hadn't any food, but that didn't stop Elise from dreaming.

"Have you ever had creamed parsley and tor root?"

The witch rubbed her skull. The cat sat on her knees and purred more. "Why do you go on about things we can't have?"

"Why not? And I didn't think I was 'going on'," added the girl pleasantly, now smiling. She sighed and lay on her back, swinging one leg over one bent knee and beginning once more to dream.

"Creamed parsley and tor root, lamb shanks, potato au gratin, quiver pie... You don't call that going on?"

"I didn't say 'quiver pie'! I said 'quiver'..."

"You did say quiver pie."

"Yes. I did." Elise giggled and rolled onto her belly. "I am hungry, though... Aren't you?"

Watching her from the corner of her eye, Dorothy could only be amazed. What girl had such spirit she could laugh in times like these?—particularly when at first sight, she appeared nothing if not ordinary.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Elise had rolled onto her side. Head resting in her hand, she looked up at Dorothy.

"Me? I'm not lookin' at—nuffin."

"You were looking at me a second ago! If my talking about food really bothers you, I can stop. We can just sit here."

"Tomorrow mornin' we'll have to leave, ya know," Dorothy said after a beat, facing the cat in her lap.

"And go where?"

"I only know one place. Henden."

Although she had never been there, Elise knew of Henden: Unum's big city, located south of the mountains that divided its industrial might from the peaceful north country. The city sat in a vast crater with the ocean to the west and mountains rich with ore on all other sides. It was there that the army and explorer divisions flew their machines and air ships. After seeing the destruction such machines caused in her homeland, Elise had no special interest in visiting the world in which they were made, however.

Warmth and light were not panacean after all, and even those began to fade. The suns departed with their typical aurora of whites, lavenders, yellows and flame—nothing like what we see on Earth—and began to give way to lunarscopic night.

"I've been here loads of times, but never this late." Dorothy, like Elise, watched the sky. Elise lay on her back while Dorothy sat with hands in her lap, not far away.

Elise chattered. "It's getting cold..."

Dorothy considered. Taking off both rings, she cast them into the air. With the thrust of her wand they then glowed red and heated like a small campfire. Elise moved closer, then observed them orbit one another in the comfort of warmth and wonder.

"Thank you."

"This place," Dorothy began, wanting to see Elise marvel but looking away instead, "they say is haunted, ya know."

Elise's face fell. "Haunted? What do you mean?"

"Just stories. Nuffin important. Should probably get some rest. Early day tomorrow..."

Dorothy felt something soft and warm against her arm; she practically jumped up when she looked and saw Elise had moved next to her. Their arms had touched.

Elise moved away again. "I just thought we'd be warmer. I'm sorry..."

What Elise said made sense, but for some reason Dorothy didn't just say so. Instead, when Elise lay down again, the witch moved to the other side of the rings.

Even as the sky turned all dark, however, and emerald stars colored the world, Dorothy wanted to sit up and say, 'I'm the one who should be sorry.' Sorry for what, though? She didn't want to sleep by Elise, and yet a mellow, squirming feeling gnawed at her when the thought crossed her mind—like a hunger that didn't exactly come from the stomach. Were her humors misaligned? Was she hungrier than she thought? Or was this fear? It felt a great deal like fear.

In this way, Dorothy's strange new hunger consumed her until the night grew full and she fell asleep.

"Goodnight, Dorothy," Elise said when the witch had already begun to snore. She turned on her side again, facing away from her and into the unknowing silence.