He buried himself more deeply in the hay and dozed off again, still exhausted and confident that if the witch were going to send after him it wouldn't be until nightfall

He woke after dark and rose and crept to the cows. He spoke soothingly to them first, then knelt and drank of their milk.

The night without was quiet and cool and he ran quickly through the pasture, making still for ht eriver

the he crept

he reached the river well before dawn and found a hive of fishermen's hovels, all dark and quiet but for a dog barking here or there. The river was slowly moving in the moonlight, and the boy sat and watched it, himself slowing down for the first time in weeks and feeling how alone and uncertain was his prospect. He contemplated then whether he should travel back upriver.

His eyes fastened/rested on a little painter tied up to a tree and his brow wrinkled in the moonlight. Hardly thinking, he got u pand went and untied it and climbed in and pushed off, and the river carried him down. What would he do when he got to the sea again? The boat had an oar. He drifted and waited and came again to the sea just as the sun was cresting the horizon.

This time he let the river wash him out to the surf, unsure what he would do. The sea was calm enough, so he grabbed the oar and rowed, heading with the angle of the surf to the south and west, glad there were fewer dwellings to be seen that way.

He thought to row that way until there were no sign of any people before trying land again,but the surf eventually nudged him gently to the sand and he abandoned the little boat and skipped out. There were a few shanties, and some folk starting their kettles on the fire, but not much and he hurried back to the trees over the dunes.

A young girl saw him and waved. She seemed maybe nice and he considered hailing her, but when he started to look her way what he saw was a little hag in the making. Wretched people these still. Exceptions very rare, he thought, thinkin gof this mastter, and he hurried on and dissappeared in the growth and skirted the paths and kept peering out until there were no more dwellings nor any sign of folk, then he ran back out on the sand and to the surf and kept going.

Soon he came to another creek and he bathed and drank and lay back in the climbing sun with his eyes closed. He thought he should probably head back inland and north soon, so as to stay near Manylom and the others, but he was having a hard time planning much.

He was startled from reverie by a small voice from across the water, 'he's no wisherwasher,' it said. 'what does it want around here?'

he rosef rather than bolted, steeling himself.

It was a little girly looking thing.

'just a traveller, he said.

"Whither and whyfor?" she or it wanted to know.

"Down coast to seek fortune," he said.

"Fortune's here maybe..."

"How so, or where?"

"For this is plesaed at that."

the boy was nonplussed. 'have you any food to share?' he asked

the girly looking thing nodded, and said 'we have trees you know.'

"show me," said the boy

it or she nodded again smiling ridiculously, he thought and rose up and beckoned him to follow upcreek.

There were indeed/ banana trees, though the boy did not know to call them so, and together they sat munching banana after banana, and making a small heap of the peels, smiling at each other. Abruptly the many birds took raucous flight, and the girlish thing jumped up in obvious distress. 'oh no,' she said, then composed herself and stood erect, arms at sides. 'attention!' she hissed. Beryloam screwed up his face wondering--

then a great stomping was coming in hurry, and he sprang up and back just as a big belligerent bullish looking big toothed black and white demon thing burst through the tattered banana trees and bellowed 'who's yous eating my nananananana!'

the girlish imp of a humonculus blurted, staring straight ahead, 'this was just so hungry, sir sir!'

the demon turned on Beryloam, breathing or panting, eyes alternately bulging and narrowing. 'whos one here?' it spat, taking a step at him.

Beryloam maintained readiness without giving, and said 'this is one who fears not that, but if the trees belong to you amends can be made!'

the thing narrowed its eyes completely, and its lips quivered.

'nananananana for me or who I say,' it said ina voice unsure if it should be sugary or sharp.

'then please take this in recompense,' said the boy, fishing the handkerchief asdfasdf had given him from his pocket and bowing first then tossing it flutteringly to the demon. 'and I'll be on my way, good day.'

the demon thing snatched it and sniffed it and jibbering something, but the boy was already leaving and did nto look back. It would not follow.

But as he followed the creek back to the beach he heard a great smack and a squeal of pain. He stopped and shut his eyes. The girly thing was whimpering and pleading incoherently, the other was bawling at her, and there was another smack and then squealinggb. In a moment he decided and turned and hurriedly sacmpered back, readying his magic arrow spell. He maneuvered the demon into view through the trees and cried out, 'I would go, but you misuese that kind one that sat and shared fruit with me, and I will show you to stop.' he cast the arrow, knowing it would not slay the thing but stun and wound and startle it, and it did. Then he cast a little charm oupn it, and it stood stock still mouth slack drooling eyes glassed.

'are you ok?' he said turning to the girly thing.

She nodded. 'what shall we do with him?'

she appeared about to say something but suddenly looked very confused.

I will not slay him, said the boy proudly, for his misdeed was not so grave. Will you follow m freely down the beach.

She nodded. Still crying, looking back and forth from the boy to the monster.

The boy bowed to the demon and said, 'no harm done more than was done,' and smiled at the little girly (she was shorter than he). He said, 'i'm going that way, come on if you like'

she nodded again and followed him.

As they walked she attempted conversation a few times, awkwardly, and the boy wondered at the wisdom of inviting her. Her name he gathered was meshameshywe or something like it. They walked until sundown and found another creek, and she said 'maybe there are sweets in there,' indicating the trees upstream again. She looked uncertain. 'let's go see,' said the boy and she smiled and followed. There were a couple fo mango trees this time, not a whole grove like before, but they sat again and supped stickily and smilingly then washe din the creek and went back close to the surf to sleep in the open. He heard

Meshameshy humming or singing quietly, and then she might have started crying, but he had been with her all day and knew better than to take her too seriously.

He slept easily, but rose before dawn and hurried on withou ther. The monster would not leave the bananas to come this far, and she would be as fine as could be on her own.

When he came to the next creek he splashed upstream and into thw wood and kept going, in case the little girlish thing decided in its own stuboorn way to pursue him.

He kept going until he came to a lovely splashing waterfall and he dove in the pool there and swam with the little golden and silver fishes. Something caught his eye among the rocks on the bottom. He swam down and brushed away the muck and found a golden goblet. He grasped it and swam up and washed off the grime and held it sparkling in the sun. oh glory he said, what luck, and he quaffed from it.

Oy! what's that! Cried something from above—in the trees or at the top of the waterfall. The boy looked but he could not see no one.

Gimme gold! Cried a reddish monkey looking dingbatty thing that sprang from the top of the waterfall and landed with a splash in the water and came swimming his way.

The boy back paddled and climbed then sprang out of the water and onto the grass and backed among the trees just as the thing climbed out and shook water everywhere from itself.

"'oo you thinkin you can be can't get away from me!" It cried coming for him.

'finders keepers' said the boy, 'loser be a weeper! And he cast the same charm he had employed against eht black and white demon upshore. He completed just before the hairy red mad eyedthing was on him, and it stopped and shook and jibbered. The spell appeared to only partially effec tit. The boy ran inot the growth.

He heard it coming after him, but did not fear that it would follow far. Such little local place demons were want to stay close to tehri haunts. Only this one kept coming. Ok said the boy, not a local place demon then. He couldn't keep this up. He could tell it was more tireless than himself. But it was not much bigger than himself. He ran until he came to a little gully with stones and sticks and he sprang just over it and crouched and began casting a magic dart. He finished the spell just as the mad little fellow appaeared and he scorched it head on. A whiff of smoke went up and it yowled and he could smell burnt fur, but it was not over hurt. It stood looking at him now, lips quivering as if uncertain. Its eyes narrowed. 'You--!' it said, crying in frustration and it limped away.

The boy followed the gully back to the beach and sat staring at the waves. Little drmons hereabouts, relatively harmless enough, but … there didn't seem to be anywhere he could take his leisure without being harrassed or attacked, and if he weren't on his toes a little monster like that could be deadly.

He stared out to sea wondeirng how it would be out there if he had a sail boat. I could go back down the beach to asdfadsf and steal one from one of the docks, he thought, but he was nto a theif by nature and let perish the thought.

Then he figured he could build one if he could find a sail or something to uee as a sail. I'll keep my eyes open, he said.

He got up and walked down the strand, stooping and marveling at the seashells now and then. He had only read about such things before, and seen fossilized ones of course in the mountains. His master had explained how those mountains had been at the bottom of the sea so long ago the years couldn't even be counted.

He selected the best and loveliest shells to keep and kept walking. He felt something watching him and looked up to see a tall scary looking black figure approaching, walking along the surf like himself, but erect and looking neither left nor right nor down.

Oh boy, he thought. Don't run to the trees, don't swim (he knew how to swim, there was an alpine lake not far from the valley), don't turn around just … the thing picked up its pace. Its face was white. It was either a strange looking woman or a very thin effeminate man. Ok, he thought—run or swim! He turned, trying to look natural, and walked briskly up towards the trees. The thing bolted for him, taking long strides. It was horrible! He screamed in spite of himsel fand ran as fast he could to the trees. Glancing back, it was gaining! Long strides. There was something unholy about it and the boy almost lost his nerve completely, but his training held him together barely and he was in the trees and dodging through them, thinking his smallness and agility would keep him ahead if it tried to pursue, but fearing in case it did not. He did not pause to find out. He couldn't hear or see if it was coming behind him, ubt he kept running. Whatever that was, he thought, it was unafraid, and somehow he figured his petty spells might not avail. He kept running until he felt he couldn't run much further then he figured what he would do. He looked for a tall tree that could be quickly climbed, and he leapt and grabbed a branch and started climbing, almost too exhausted. He got well off the forest floor before he looked back and down but he saw nothing. He stopped on the branch he was on and bowed his head panting like mad, glancing to see that it still was not coming. He had planned on using what his master had called his last resort spell—one that would leave him helpless and debilitated for days if it worked. He had never used it before, but once in learning. Its effect was impossible to predict—it could be nothing at all, or it might summon a djinn or an whirlwind, or a passer by even to your aid. It might summon a storm if the weather were amenable. It might make one vomit if one had swallowed poison. It was to be cast in a dire emergency when nothing else would do, and one's own feelings and thoughts of desperation and stored up fortune would guide the outcome. He had thought to climb high and cast it. In all likelihood nothing would have happened. It was still but a small spell and could only draw preexisting energies into play. He would have had to hope that a giant bird or some such were nearby and ahppened to be in a helpful mood, or that a large branch was weak and might fall on the thing, or that …

his heart stopped. There it was, creeping silently through the underbrush, dodging neither left nor right. Not hurrying but coming. Oh no, said the boy. It lo

oked up and saw him. It did not smile, but its face changed, and it did speed up now. Oh no, the boy started to say again, but caught himself, closed his eyes and breathed and readied himself for the casting. He shunted any such thought as 'here goes', and instead cleared his mind and cast it as he had been taught, and with the last motion he slumped and almost fell from the tree. He did nto look down to see the thing climbing. He knew it was. Silently. He heard a buzzing and it grew louded. This is it, he thought. Then there they were—a cloud of bees streaming from a bole of the very tree he was in! What fortune! He thought, seeing them stream for the thing. They swarmed it and buzzed horribly and stung it. The thing flailed silently. It started back down then stopped then fell, flailing everywhich way to get free, but they stayed with it, swarming. It wheeled this way and that, as if it would not leave, but at last it made a sound like a branch snapping and then moved quickly away, swarmed yet by bees.

The boys face was wet with tears and he only hoped he would not fall from the tree when he collapsed into sleep as he soon must. As for whether the thing would come back, somehow he knew the bees would stay true. The nature of magic, he thought, or of things generally, and … aren't all things magic?' was his last thought befor ehe slept, and he did nto fall but woke partially later that night in a cool breeze and smiled before drifting back to sleep.

He woke again late the next morning and though still exhausted knew he must eat. He spied out a nearby fruit tree and climbed down carefully and woozily went there and caught up some low growing mangoes and hungrily peeled and ate them then all sticky he fell directly to sleep again under the tree. Master will be proud and interested to know how the bees happened to be…

he didn't wake again until the next day, something was licking his sticky face and panting on him. It was friendly whatever it was. Somehow this did nto surprise him, again just the way of things. Danger was everywhere, but there were patterns to things. It was a wild pig, and it had tusks. Dangerous, noted the boy, but it was only sniffing him. He patted it, and it started but then came back. Oh no! There it was! The thing was standing right there behidn the pig looking down at him. Its face bore no expression. The pig turned and snarled and the boy unfroze. He scrabbled back and cast a magic dart though unhopeful of its effect. The pig made a charge as the dart struck and the thing, unfazed by the dark lashed at the pig. The pig gored it. Soundlessly the thing fought back lashing at it and flailing. The boy wanted to hepl the pig. He pushed himself up and grabbed up a long fallen branch and jabbed over the pig. The thing looked like it would scream but no sound came out. The boy became angry then. He wanted this thing dead. It was wrong that it should be there still. He looked around quickly and grabbed up another stick of the right thickness, and he broke it in twain quickly against the trunk and in such a way that the half he held was left sharp on the end. Then he came behind the pig and without looking it in the face he coldly jabbed the sharp end as hard as he might into the things middle and it struck home and the thing tried to lash at him but he fell back and it couldn't reach and it fell and the pig rushed in and gored it squealing and it ceased to move. The pig came back and nuzzled the boy where he sat. it was wounded and the boy patted and reassured it.

I name you Beezer he . I will help you to heal, but first I have to recover myself…' he said. Then the boy fell off again.

When he woke later she was curled up by him.

where is water?' he asked her. 'do you know?' She oinked and got to her feet, and he pushe dhimself up and followed her along a game trail.

The stream was not far, and boy and pig knelt and drank and washed then fell asleep on the bank side by side.