Dunbeg and I arrive in Owl Creek Valley after dark. Light spills from windows and doors into the night. I hear laughter as old friends greet each other. Feeling both tired and shy, I decide to sleep as soon as possible. The first cottage I come to emanates a great warmth and smells like baking bread. The sign on the door: “Antique Seeds.” I hesitate. Does one sleep in a seed shop? It seems odd, but I’m too exhausted to survey the town first and choose a more suitable spot.
Plus, Dunbeg has refused to go a step farther.
I knock tentatively on the front door. No reply. I knock a little louder, wondering if anyone is home. A shadow moves across the patch of light on the ground to my right. Someone is inside. I knock a third time, thinking the front yard is looking awfully comfy. The wooden door swings open and a stern, heavy-boned woman stares down at me.
“You knock like a woodpecker.” She speaks gruffly, but her eyes are warm as she waves me inside.
“Make yourself at home, Mule,” she calls out to Dunbeg before closing the door behind us.
The smell of bread grows stronger. I try not to look too desperate as she leads me to a sturdy table by her iron pot-bellied stove.
“Sit and have tea before you go down for the night.”
I don’t dare disobey. She takes the kettle off the stove and pours steaming water into a green mug with a brown pine cone painted on the side. I can smell cinnamon, cardamom and a hint of…. licorice?
To my immense relief, she brings a blue plate with thick, crusty bread slices piled high and already slathered with fresh butter. I feel faint with anticipation.
“Name’s Eileen, by the by,” she says as she settles opposite me at the table. She pulls out a bag of seeds and begins sorting them by size and type as I try to remember to chew my food before I swallow.
“I go by Froglet,” I respond, after rinsing some of bread down with tea. “The mule is Dunbeg.”
“Froglet and Dunbeg, eh?” she snorts. “How did the mule end up with the more dignified name?”
My eyes widen in surprise. Her twinkling eyes belie her down-turned mouth. Within moments her face goes stern again. I realize her concentration is more with the seeds than with me. Of course. Travelers must be a dime a dozen here. I’m just one of many to trespass on her hospitality. I feel a moment’s panic when I realize I haven’t even asked her room rate.
As I open my mouth to frame my question, I find Eileen staring straight at me.
“You,” she intones, “are not wearing your glasses.”
Hmm. Poor thing must be daft. I had corrective eye surgery years ago! But then I remember….Enchanteur gave me a bag at the beginning of my trip! In the excitement of setting out, I had merely tossed it in my pack and waved hastily at her, eager to begin my journey. Hadn’t she mentioned something about glasses? Obviously I have made a beginner’s mistake and my host has caught me out. I lower my head.
“Tsk, tsk. Don’t get all mopey now. Just remember to put them on in the morning, otherwise you’ll find yourself all kinds of lost here in Lemuria. Lucky you got yourself a smart mule or you’d still be wandering in circles out there somewhere now.”
I gulp. Somebody will be getting an extra apple in the morning.
Eileen sighs. Before her, rows and piles of sorted seeds form a strange design. It looks like a symbol I should recognize, but my eyes can’t resolve the shape. How I wish I had those glasses. Before I can peer more closely, she sweeps the entire batch of seeds back into her bag. I’m shocked! Why go to the trouble of sorting them if she isn’t going to keep them sorted?
She stuffs the bag into her front apron pocket and scoots her chair back with a scraping noise. “Come along then…..er, Froglet. To bed with ya.”
She shows me into a tiny room not much bigger than a closet. It’s neat as a pin and quite warm. I realize it sits opposite the wall with the stove. A single wooden bed with a patchwork quilt is already turned down. Each square on the quilt has a different leaf stitched onto it. Next to the bed is a green oil lamp on a nightstand with two drawers. After lighting my lamp, Eileen nods to me and leaves the room, shutting the door firmly.
The food and tea in my belly, combined with the warmth of the room, tempt me to fall asleep immediately, but I feel compelled to unpack my bags first. I need to nest, to feel a little bit at home. I realize I still have my pack on my back.
Removing it, I empty its contents out onto the bed. My notebook and purple pen disappear into the top drawer of the nightstand along with my binoculars. I greet my box of chocolates with a small yelp of joy and promptly eat a caramel-pecan turtle. I place the chocolates in the drawer as well, hoping they will not attract ants.
Then I remove the purple velvet bag given to me by Enchanteur. I hold it reverently, wondering how I could have forgotten to open it. Am I always so careless with gifts? I hope not.
I pull out the glasses first and try them on. They are tiny wire spectacles and bend easily into many shapes. The lenses are fine and light and slightly golden. My room looks the same through them, though. I take the glasses off and place them on the nightstand.
A silver candlestick comes out next and I marvel at the fine workmanship. Oak leaves have been carefully carved in a spiraling pattern around the base and up the stick. The candle itself is dark brown and smells of cedar. I set these items on the bed and reach into the bag again.
Out comes a beautiful packet of handmade paper. Printed in purple letters are the words “dream seeds.” I remove one and swallow it. Might as well find out sooner rather than later what the seeds can do! The seed leaves a slightly bitter taste at the back of my throat, but it’s not unpleasant.
Two small items are next. One is a tiny wooden anchor, intricately carved. The other is a golden medallion with an imprint of a sleeping Unicorn on one side and words I can’t read on the other.
The bag feels empty, but when I turn it upside down, a feathery pair of wings flutters out. They’re small and I can’t imagine what I will use them for, but they’re beautiful and delicate and I smile as I set them aside.
Yawning, I look over my treasures and feel grateful. I replace the items in the bag and set it beside the nightstand. As I fluff the covers, I hear something heavy drop to the floor and roll under the bed.
Kneeling down, I reach under and wrap my fingers. . . around a cold sphere. I sit back on my heels and look down in amazement. I’m holding a blue and green globe! At first I think it’s Earth, but the continents and oceans are in shapes I’ve never seen before. Suddenly I want to see a map of Lemuria. Might it be one of the shapes on this tiny sphere? The globe pulses in my hand. Impulsively I put it under my pillow. Turning off the lamp, I climb into bed fully dressed. Sleep captures me instantly.
