Unfortunately, the princess had not been deaf,
The bell called out to her too,
In her sleep she heard the Voice of Sereth,
Demanding she come to its rescue.
So with the new moon she began her search,
Finding the damaged bell, she sacrificed all to her new church.
When Albion woke, he discovered his wife missing,
He abandoned magic except to help his son practice,
Together, they continued his training,
Until the son became a magician’s apprentice.
The child’s name was Genesis,
His tale is one of great happiness.
His greatest feat of the supernatural,
Was to create his own bell,
That was nothing short of a miracle,
For it balanced his mother’s spell.
Without life there cannot be death.
This was how Genesis restrained Sereth.
As Damselfly’s voice ended, the Peritwinkle was looking at the rusty blade in her hand. It seemed the song had worked in impressing the weapon’s history on their audience.
“That tiny sword did all that?” the Peritwinkle spoke in an awed voice.
“You shouldn’t judge things by how they look,” Damselfly lectured.
“Like you, this sword is more than it looks.”
“Perhaps I could allow some of the villagers into the wood,” the Peritwinkle accepted. “Would they be happy to share with me after I scared them?”
“I am sure they could be persuaded,” Damselfly smiled, believing herself to be closer to reaching their goal.
Buttontail, who had remained quiet during the altercation, allowed Damselfly to carry him as they walked beside the tamed Peritwinkle back towards the village.
“Your voice is enchanting indeed if it can assuage such a beast,” the rabbit whispered.
Damselfly felt very happy. She had achieved her task of convincing the Peritwinkle to share with the villagers, and now Morris would have no excuse to withhold the token they needed to travel across to the Magicgarden. The Peritwinkle began humming Damselfly’s poem as they exited the woods’ shadow. Almost immediately they were greeted by a series of howls and bright lights on the horizon.
“I smell smoke,” the Peritwinkle grunted.
“It’s coming from the village,” Damselfly warned.
“Quick, climb on my back,” the Peritwinkle reacted.
“I don’t think—” Buttontail’s argument was cut short as both he and Damselfly were lifted onto the Peritwinkle’s back moments before he took off towards the village.
Upon their approach they could make out a handful of fires lighting up the village against the night. Howls from the Baywolves and high shouts from the besieging Sprites littered the air. Smoke drifted high into the sky, blocking out the moon and stars. Damselfly was worried about the villagers who had little defence against such an assault. Fortunately, the Peritwinkle was equally enraged by the despicable attack, and he charged down the vale like a beast possessed. Buttontail could not decide if he was more terrified of the Peritwinkle or the vindictive Sprites.
“We should have stayed at home,” he cursed fearfully.
As they plunged headfirst into the carnage, everyone stopped, the villagers just as frightened by the Peritwinkle’s arrival as the Sprites.
“Get them,” Damselfly cried, pointing her fractured sword at the invaders.
The Peritwinkle needed no further instruction. He barreled down the lane, scattering any Baywolf or Sprite that was unfortunate enough to stand in his path. Before they could regroup, the Peritwinkle turned in a fit of rage and any remaining resistance disappeared. The Sprites had barely ordered the retreat before their mounts were running for their lives with Jinx leading the way. The villagers slowly emerged from their homes, shocked by the swift turn of events. Damselfly, with Buttontail in her arms, descended from the Peritwinkle’s back and dropped neatly onto the cobbled street.
“Damselfly, you came back!” Beatrix burst out of the Woodcutters Inn.
Morris called after his daughter as he caught sight of the terrifying Peritwinkle standing guard; however, Beatrix ignored the danger and hugged the princess who had saved their village from the Sprite attack.
“I knew you would come back,” the innkeeper’s daughter said.
“Yes, thank you,” Morris congratulated with the remaining villagers following close on his heels.
“It isn’t me who deserves your gratitude,” Damselfly explained. “The Peritwinkle is the one who frightened the invaders away.”
“How did you get him to do that?” Beatrix exclaimed.
Damselfly tilted her head in consideration, having never really thought about how great her accomplishment was.
“I listened to him and tried to show him that the villagers never meant him any harm,” the princess revealed.
“Is that true?” Morris asked. “Can we enter the woods again?”
Everyone looked at the Peritwinkle for an answer, even Damselfly.
“Yes, you may enter the wood, though you may not start a fire or take more than you need to survive,” the Peritwinkle granted.
The villagers cheered with delight at the announcement, which saved their village every bit as much as frightening off the Sprites had done.
“Everyone is invited to the inn for a celebratory meal,” Morris announced.
“Being brave makes one very hungry,” Buttontail told Beatrix as the villagers made their way back to the inn.
Damselfly remained behind with the Peritwinkle who, after all the excitement, seemed sad again.
“I wish I could find a companion for you,” the princess stated.
“At least I won’t be alone in the wood any longer,” the Peritwinkle replied.
“Come on,” Beatrix beckoned them from the inn.
“Before we go, just tell me one thing: did that sword really cut down a mountain?” the Peritwinkle enquired.
“Yes,” Damselfly answered, leading the way.
Chapter 8 The Most Confusing of Times
After a modest feast with much celebrating, Damselfly and Buttontail prepared to say farewell to the people of Wintergarden. The Peritwinkle was escorting a small party of villagers to the wood where they would seek to gather supplies; Damselfly hugged the enormous boar whose fur was surprisingly soft. While they headed towards the wood, Damselfly headed in the opposite direction with
