"Fine, I'll help you," I say. "If you give me my turtle back and show me the way home."
Maplewane leaps up and gathers a group of five other Tweechens around her. They whisper urgently in a huddle. Finally, they break apart and return to their seats at the banquet.
"Okay, the turtle is yours," says Maplewane. "After you help us."
"Can I see him?"
"Of course." Maplewane claps her hands and two boys spring to their feet and jump onto the trunk of the nearest tree, clamoring up it like monkeys. The others casually begin to eat, Maplewane taking a large bite out of a piece of bread.
I rapturously sink my teeth into my piece. It's so soft, so smooth, and so warm. I feel like I have never tasted food until this moment. I continue stuffing chunks of the incredible bread into my mouth. I look for more food -- berries and wine and sweet little pies. It's all better than anything I've ever had, better than anything I can imagine...
"He's escaped!" I hear a child's voice yelling from the treetops.
I keep eating. Children begin running and shouting around me, arming themselves with their cute little bows and arrows.
"Oh no! It isn't fair! I only just got to be queen!" Maplewane cries. She flies up. Her face becomes older in her anger. Her violet eyes blaze, and she smacks the food out of my hands. "Where is he? What have you done with him?"
I grapple for a handful of grapes, but she kicks it away from me.
"I've been here the whole time! What have you done with him?" I say.
Maplewane hisses and reveals a row of pointed teeth. I instinctually fall back and push her away. The Tweechens closest to me leap at me. I do a backwards somersault and spring to my feet.
I am surrounded by rows of purple eyes in a dark jungle in an upside-down land. Arrows are strung and pointed at me from every direction. I am a serene warrior. A. Serene. Warrior.
Nobody moves. I take a step to the side, slowly. Their arrows and eyes move with me, but nobody fires. I do it again. The same.
"You need me to help you," I say. "If I understand that correctly, that means you can't kill me, or else you'll never make it to my world. Am I right?"
The purple eyes look around at each other. Eventually, they lower their bows.
"That's what I thought."
The Tweechens' cherub faces drop sadly.
"Now, if anyone knows where my turtle is, you had better say something."
A boy sniffs. "He's gone. See."
He steps forward, the tiniest Tweechen I've seen yet, holding up a wooden cage the size of his arm. One side of it looks like it has been chewed to pieces by an animal. I take the cage. The bite marks are large and sharp, and the wood is tough. A small turtle can't chew himself out of something like this. I drop the cage. I unhook the poker from my belt and show it to them.
"You can't hurt me, but I can hurt you. Do you understand? I am going to look for him. If any of you find him first, bring him to me, or I won't help you. If I find out Bernard is hurt, I won't help you. If you do anything to stop me, I won't help you. If you understand, do nothing," I say. I turn away from the banquet table and the warm inviting lights and march into the darkness of the woods. Nobody follows me.
So what's the plan, Glass? I don't know. I don't know where I am, what I'm doing here, or why I thought I would be able to find one little turtle by marching randomly out into an unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night. It's better than hanging out with the Lollipop Guild from Hell, I suppose.
Ouch. Stump. It's too dark here. The fires from the Tweechens' campsite are hard to see now. None of them followed me, did they? I don't see anyone. I can't see anything really. Just a bunch of trees and really hard stumps. That'll probably leave a bruise.
Was that a wolf howl? Of course it was. What do I expect to find out here, cocker spaniels?
I can't see anything now, and I'm hungry. I could gnaw my own arm off for another piece of that bread. I'd bet they'll give me more if I turn back.
No. Don't do it, Glass. 'A warrior sees not with their eyes, but with their understanding.' That's what my sensei taught me.
I wonder if it's the same time on my side of the lake as it is on this one. I only have a day and a half left to get back for my audition. My audition... I guess I should be more worried about whether I'll ever get back at all.
Nothing to see now. Nowhere to go. It'll be best to hunker down and wait until morning. This stump will have to do for shelter. Bernard found me once. If I'm very lucky, maybe he can do it again.
I wake up to the sound of "Psst... psst..."
I wave at the air, looking to slap my alarm clock. What am I finding? A stick? Something crunchy? Leaves?
Pssst!
Something jabs me in the side.
"Hey!"
My eyes spring open and a slap at whatever jabbed me. It was a stick, and I'm in the woods, and, oh Lord, it was all real.
"Don't move," a voice whispers urgently. A man?
I freeze, one arm wrapped around the fire poker, which I'd slept with, the other grasping the stick that poked me. On the other end of the stick is a guy.
"Hello," I try to say, but I forget to say the "o".
The guy's hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in months and bits of leaves and pine needles are stuck in it. He's wearing khaki shorts, a dirty blue polo shirt, and a bright orange vest. His eyes are wide and focused on my head.
"I don't mean to alarm you," he says. "But on your head, you see..."
"What?" I say.
"Well, it's a turtle."
"Ha!" I declare. I drop my poker and feel the top of my head. Sure enough, it's a familiar lumpy shell.
"No, don't!" yells the guy, as if I were handling a deadly scorpion.
I pull the turtle down and hold him in front of me.
"Where have you been, Bernard?" I say.
Bernard smacks his mouth.
"You... you know it?" says the guy, amazed. He backs away, but I still have a hand on the stick, so I yank it out of his hand.
"I'll keep this," I say. I groan as I right myself. My back and neck are stiff and aching, but I have bigger problems. What else is new?
"So who are you supposed to be? A crossing guard?" I say to the guy in the orange vest.
"Who are you supposed to be? Lara Croft?" says the guy.
I toss the stick out of reach and take the poker into my right hand as I work my way up to my feet.
"I'll have you know, this used to be my favorite Ninja Monkey T-shirt," I insist. Also, I'm sure my ponytail does not meet video game standards of tidiness after a night sleeping against a log. "So I guess you're from my world, or at least have been there. Awesome." I say. "So, what's your story?"
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