“Oww! Get off me!” Morell cried out as he pulled his knee up and hugged the injured limb.

  “I can’t see anything!” yelped Loxo. “I’m blind! I’m completely blind!”

  “Urrf.” Atticus grunted. “You’re not blind, dimwit. You landed with your head in the mud. Wipe your eyes off.”

  “Atticus?” asked Morell. “Is that you?”

  “Of course, it’s me. Who else would I be? Did you hit your head, boy?”

  “Your voice...” Morell said with a start. “Your face!”

  “What about my face? Are you making some kind of joke?”

  “I still can’t see anything.” Loxo huffed as he scraped the black muck from his eyes. He was standing in mud up to his calves. “Ptu!” he spat “Augh, it’s awful and in my mouth!”

  “There’s some water to your left.” Atticus told him. “Dunk your face in that.” Loxo stumbled and felt about until he found the water before proceeding to wash it away. It was still in his hair and on the sides, but at last he managed to see again.

  “Ah! There we go!” he said with some delight. “Who are you? Loxo asked with a shocked expression.

  “Enough of your games.” Atticus huffed as he turned to look in all foggy directions around them “Where’s the others? Hoxley?! Ignatius?!” he shouted. “Curse this mud. It’s on my armor and everything.” The man wiped and swiped at the dark sludge, picking globs from his breastplate and flinging it aside with disgust. “Hoxley?!” He yelled. But for his calls, there came no replies other than the echoes of insects buzzing and chirping. “Well, it’s not ideal being pitched into a sloppy bog, but it’s better than being surrounded by soldiers, that’s for sure. Would you two stop staring at me like dullards? It’s impolite to stare.”

  “Atticus?” asked Loxo meekly. “I think you should have a look at this puddle.”

  “A puddle?” he asked. “Why would I need to look at a puddle?”

  “Indulge me, so I know I’m not delirious.” Said Loxo, pointing to the pool at his feet.

  “Pirate, I’m in no mood for foolery.” Atticus grunted as he stomped though the bog to stand next to him. “What? What is it? It’s water, filthy water. Unsuitable for drinking.”

  “Look again.” Said Loxo. “Lean over very far and look straight down.” Atticus squinted at him.

  “If you push me over, I will cut your head off and put it on a stick.” He grumbled.

  “Fair enough.” Said Loxo as he put his hands behind his back. “Look again.” Atticus did so and saw nothing but a puddle rimmed with the same grey sky overhead. But when he leaned in just a touch further, a face he hadn’t recognized in a very long time came into view. It was his face, only thirty years younger. The gray hair of the head and moustache had regained their once vibrant red hues.

  “What enchantment is this?” Atticus gasped as he touched his own face to make the reflection do the same. “It’s showing visions! It makes me look like a young buck of twenty five summers, haha! Isn’t that something.”

  “But that’s how you look without the puddle.” Offered Morell. “Your whole head is full of bright red hair like mine is!”

  “Is it true?” Atticus asked Loxo. “Is the reflection of the puddle true? Is that what I look like without it?”

  “It is!” Loxo smiled. “How do I look?” asked.

  “Like a pirate covered in black gunk.” Offered Atticus before glancing over at the water again. “Marvelous, truly marvelous.” He said to himself. “It’s not just the hair. My bones have stopped hurting, my joints don’t ache anymore! Why I feel truly rested!” Atticus declared. “This magic mud is vitalizing! I feel like I could take on twenty horsemen on my own using only a tree branch! Stay away from the water, Morell! You’ll end up as a tadpole and I’ll have to put you in a canteen to carry you back! Morell, why are you tugging at your clothes?” he asked.

  “They…They got tight when I came through the magic.” The boy said as he tried to stand. “Ow. My ankle, it still hurts!”

  “Never mind your ankle, look at your pants!” exclaimed Loxo. Morell and Atticus looked to see that the bottom of the pant leg had crept up to midcalf. The sleeves had retreated up the forearm as well. “Your clothes have shrunk!”

  “Or the boy has grown.” Said Atticus. “Doesn’t he look larger to you? He looks three summers older!”

  “Do I?” asked Morell, reaching up to feel his face. “Let me see that puddle!” Morell hobbled over to peer within the water and discovered that the round pudginess of his face had melted away to reveal a leaner profile, his cheekbones framed the face of an older adolescent than he was only minutes before. “Look at me!” he said with a wide smile. “I’ve gotten bigger! I could be old enough to become a squire or an apprentice! My shoes are snug but they don’t hurt. These pants are hurting my crotch.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Never mind your crotch.” Said Atticus. “You can deal with that later. For now, we need to find out where the others have gone. If they’re anywhere in here, it’ll be difficult to find them.”

  “Where is here?” asked Loxo as he tried to peer through the murky haze of the fog. “Where are we?”

  “Other than back at the ruins with those soldiers this is the other place I never wanted to find myself…Steelbriar.”

  “I can’t see anything at all.” Remarked Morell. “How do we know which way is out?”

  “That’s the thing about Steelbriar,” said Atticus as he wiped off his sword. “Most people who find their way in here seldom get out at all.”

  “Then how do we know which way is the right way to go to escape?”

  “We don’t.” Atticus scowled. “There are things in here that don’t want us to find our way out.”

  “What kind of things?” asked Loxo as he pulled his sword.

  “Things that would have us for their meals. The only thing we can do is pick a direction and press forward before we run out of food and water. Our only hope is to try and find the edge before hunger and exhaustion make us permanent residents of this wretched place.”

  “I can’t tell which way the sun is shining with all this fog.” Said Loxo. “At least if we could see the sun, we could pick a direction and stay with it. We’re just as likely to wander in circles.”

  “Now you see the danger.” Nodded Atticus.

  “But which way to go?” asked Morell

  “I don’t think it matters.” Said Loxo. Someone, pick a direction and we’ll set off.”

  “I can barely walk.” Said Morell. “I hurt my ankle when I landed.”

  “Here.” said Atticus, forcing his shield and spear into the pirate’s hands. “You’ll carry my weapons and I‘ll carry the boy.” All it took was three large strides before the man scooped up Morell with one arm and hefted him onto his back. “Harrumph! You’re lighter than the witch, boy! We’re going to have to start feeding you more!” Atticus hooted “Follow me, I’ll find us a way out of this swampy mess!” And with that, the three started walking and the fog swallowed them whole.

  It was slow going for hours as every step became a chore in the muck that sucked and slurped at their feet. “Curse this muck.” Atticus said. “Every stride feels like a forced march.”

  “I’m sorry for burdening you.” Morell replied.

  “It’s not you at all, boy.” He assured him. “This is the reason I voiced my concern about steering clear of Steelbriar in the first place. And now here it is, the witch has thrown us headlong into this swampy labyrinth. Out of one mess and into another.”

  “What exactly is our plan for getting out of this bog?” asked Loxo.

  “From the few who have survived this place they said that the bog and swamp parts aren’t the most dangerous.”

  “They’re not?” asked Morell.

  “No. Somewhere in all of this…this greyness is a small plateau that’s quite solid.”

  “I should like to find that part soon.” Loxo said, struggling to get one foot free of the mud that threatened to swallow his shoe.

  “But that’s where the true danger is.” Atticus said with shifting eyes to keep track of his surroundings. “Within that plateau lies a den of twisted, ungodly, hideous beasts that will cut a man to pieces for only the sake of hearing their screams.”

  “I would no longer wish to find that place.” Loxo replied. “Why, I could become quite accustomed to greyness and thick soup if it avoids such deathly unpleasantness.”

  “What do they look like?” asked Morell

  “Those who were able to escape say they are not human, nor witch, nor centaur nor cyclops. They are instead made from the same razorbarb that protects their den.”

  “Plant people?” asked Morell, astonished. “Fascinating. I wonder if they can talk.”

  “What would you have them talk about?” asked Loxo. “Hello, I’m a wandering, slaughtering vegetable, may I cut off your head? No, I think not. I’m fully confident in Atticus’ plan to steer clear of such things is truly the best path. I rather like my head where it is, and I have no mind to allow a talking salad to take it elsewhere.”

  “Would you please stop it with your ceaseless jabbering?” asked Atticus with a glare over his shoulder. “I’m trying to listen for dangerous elements, and I can’t do it while your lips are flapping at such a rate. We’ve been at this for hours. I think it’s time for a rest. Here. Here’s a half solid place to take a rest.” Atticus got one boot upon dry land and let Morell down. The boy gingerly kept his weight off of the one ankle before plopping down on his butt. Loxo came “shlorp”ing after them trying his best not to fall into the boggy water.