REEB
There’s nothing more but truth to say. Such. So. The tar lumped to a height equal to mine. It paled, it shaped, and there she was, the creature. She wore gray lowboots, pale blue leggers, and a red chopsleeve shirt. Her skin held the color of oatstraw, and her hair was straight, brown and bunched with a tie in the back. Her eyes were brown so such like as any common hutter’s, and they locked on me with a look of surprise, but no fear. No fear.
“Dream?” she said.
“Not … stream … dream,” I answered.
“You’re a witch, a good witch. A GOOD WITCH! I TOLD ‘em! I have a glass unicorn your color on my desk. It … Oh, there’s your broom! Is that a wand? It is a wand, isn’t it? Looks like a stick, but … OH!”
Of course, Kar had been unable to remain silent in the purple shadow. Breathing fire, she swooped above us, shifted to Racing Dragon, green with yellow zigzag stripes.
“A dragon! I have one just like that! It’s next to my unicorn!” said the excited creature, happy, thrilled, no fear, no fear at all.
“Kar! Settle! Shift!” I commanded.
“Oh, is that your language? You can teach me. Will you teach me? I can …” enthused the creature until she was struck speechless by Kar’s descent and shift from Dragon to bendo dreen.
“She looks harmless, Bek, strangely oatlike,” said Kar. “What’s all that babble she’s been spilling?”
“Sabeek orrun, Kar, practice patience. You’ll be the worst … first! … I’ll tell,” I said.
Kar shrugged like we do and folded her arms. I sent a smile of comfort to the poised for flight jesterbeasts gathered in the meadow behind us. I turned the smile to the wide-eyed grinning creature.
“I am Bekka Ja Harick. Yoss. I am a … ditch … witch … good witch … truth … so such like as you read … said. This is my jrabe … jroon … vest blend … best friend! … from ever, Jar … Kar. We are from … from the world … up the bell … no … Well! Yoss! That’s it! I have come beer … here … to cake … take you … there.”
The creature hopped with delight, clapping for a reason soon to be revealed to me. Her tied hair tail jumped here and there, bobbing. She saw my rings, her eyes grew even wider, and she settled right down to a hush.
“Oh, are they magic? All of ‘em? What do they do? Can I try one? Bekka! Your name is Bekka! Oh, I knew it would be! I knew it!”
She began so such to sound like Kar when Kar is full on excited, but in this language of the Chronicles of course instead of our own natural Boadlian. I began to like her. She was lively, spirited, and showed not one splinter of fear.
“They are … magic. You know my flame … name. I don’t snow … know yours,” I said calmly.
“Oh, it’s Reeb! I’m Reeb because my real name’s the same as my mother’s. You know what? She’s BECCA, TOO! JUST LIKE YOU! She’s Becca. I’m Re Becca. Reeb!” she spilled in a hurried gush.
So such certain sure it wasn’t until later I learned her Becca was spelled with ‘c’s and not ‘k’s. But then right there I was struck with a flood of knowledge and confidence. Prophesy is guiding me along a proper path! ReBekka. ReMe! A new Chronicler! I turned to the jesterbeasts.
“She is called Reeb. She is not dangerous. Step from your shadows,” I called.
“Who’s in shadows?” asked Reeb, ever thrilled, ever curious, as so such said should a Chronicler be.
“It’s true, slip and slide, that they don’t turn all the way bad until they’ve grown to full upness,” rumbled Jerrandal, stepping forward, fading the purple shadow away.
“A Bigfoot! I knew that, too! Sasquatch! I told Allie! I told her!” spouted the now dancing as well as clapping and jumping Reeb.
The rest of the jesterbeasts all of ‘em followed Jerrandal’s lead.
“Bigfoots! A whole clan! Allie! Allie! Mom! Dad! Look Look! Where are you? Bigfoots, witches and … stuff!”
I looked at the three remaining patches of tar. I knew without knowing they would not, could not be restored until I got ‘em up the Well. Such was so. A truth. A known. How to explain? How to explain?