Chapter 13

“See that roadesque dirt path? Take it,” says Falcon, pointing off the main road, north of his home, to a narrow dirt path overgrown with crabgrass and other wild plants. The limo bobs as it turns off the paved road to the questionable pathway. “We need to keep going down this path for about nine more miles.”
Looking at the odometer, Pintear exclaims, “You traveled over thirty-nine miles to find your house the first time on foot?”
“More than that, love,” replies Falcon, “We still have a ways to go from here and the few miles of hiking where the limo will not fit through the dense brush.”
“How, on earth, were you able to do that?”
“You shall see in due time,” says Falcon with a secretive grin. “Just keep going til you reach the fork. I will tell you where to go from there.”
The old dirt road offers little leeway for subconscious driving being riddled with the sporadically placed dips and rises causing Pintear to grip the wheel tighter as he slightly swerve for each natural depression. Barren fielded scenes and clear blue skies are quickly being replaced with wooded areas and precariously placed canopies, growing denser and denser, while Pintear drives cautiously down the road to the fork ahead. The drive is quiet between Pintear and Falcon, who seems deeply lost in thought, most likely preparing his plan to help Pintear.
Arriving at the fork, Falcon jerks out of his trance and points straight ahead off the not so beaten path. “Keep going and don't stop until you hit treeline. There we are going to walk. By then you should feel the tea.”
The ground is soft and pliable, but thanks to the new deep tread tires, that poses no threat as they gouge into the untouched earth. Two parallel ruts appear behind the limo, the only trace that anyone has left in years down this path. Pride and excitement bloom inside Pintear's chest, knowing that he is probably the first person to see this path. He smiles to himself.
“What's with the smile,” asks Falcon, inquisitively, “Seems like something is on your mind.”
“Ooh, nothing,” sings Pintear, still smiling. He doesn't want Falcon thinking he possesses a superfluously prideful personality, especially since Falcon is taking him on this quest for furridom. Just keeping Falcon's company about makes him feel secure that everything will go according to plan.
As the miles tick over on the odometer, the forest is becoming thicker and wilder by the yard. Pintear is starting to worry the branches are going to carve holes in the sides of the vehicle. Eventually, the brush becomes so thick the limo can no longer go any farther without devouring a tree in half. Forced to stop at the treeline, Pintear parks the limo in the best clearing he can find and looks over to Falcon for confirmation of the correct location, who nods in his usual mind reading way. He steps out of the limo and into a pile of droppings left by some careless forest creature.
“What a load of crap!” angrily exclaims Pintear.
Stepping out of the limo, Falcon replies with a deep laugh, “It sure is.”
“Not funny, Falcon,” says Pintear trying to procure a stick or rock to scrape the used and refused sustenance.
“You shouldn't worry about that now. You are going to find more of that deeper in the woods. Just keep an eye out for the larger ponds of it.” Falcon motions to the trunk of the limo and heads there himself.
Giving up on his search for dropping removal, Pintear tries to dislodge it by stomping as he walks to the back of the limo. The trunk is already open and Falcon is rooting about the back compartment.
Falcon pulls out a long camouflage canvas tarpaulin and hands it to Pintear. “Set this up, please. We don't want the limo to be easily seen nor have copious woodland debris all over. I'll get the gear ready for us. It shouldn't take too long and then we will be on our little trek.”
Happy to help, Pintear takes the tarpaulin, heads to the front of the limo and unfurls it onto the hood, working it up the windshield to the trunk, covering the whole limo perfectly as he goes. When Pintear is almost finished covering the whole vehicle, getting to the trunk area, the trunk is closed and Falcon is missing. He finishes fully covering the limo. Curious as to where Falcon has moved on to, he creeps, crouched down, around the other side of the limo and peeks around the corner to see if Falcon is waiting to ambush him. Nothing.
Something from under the limo grips Pintear's ankles and sharp pins poke his boot. A yell of surprise echoes into the deep woods, originating from Pintear. The gripped ankles are jerked and he falls to the soft ground. Soon a weight presses up his legs, hips, stomach, then chest, then Falcon's face eclipses the noon high sun.
“Why must you always scare me?” asks the mildly bugged Pintear.
“I don't know. Something in my nature just compels me to just beleaguer you anyway I can,” says Falcon, laughing between his words.
“Where is the gear?” asks Pintear in a terse tone.
Falcon contorts and twists, slinking his spine with unnatural humanoid flexibility, to reach his torso under the limo then slinks back with two very dense backpacks in each paw; all while still sitting on Pintear's stomach. “Right here!” he chimes, a big grin still drawn across his muzzle.
The combined weight of two heavily packed backpacks bared by a twisty ferret proves to be a little too much for Pintear to handle. He exhales, “Get off!” and Falcon desists his playful antagonizations then quickly jumps off the weighted chauffeur. Pintear rocks and jumps to his feed, brushing off the grass and twigs embedded into his clothing. He grabs the backpack from Falcon's paw. The weight offsets his balance and he plants his face into the chest of the previous holder of the packs. Pintear unburied his face from the chest of his companion. Embarrassment grips Pintear and heat fills his cheeks. He pecks Falcon on his furred cheek to break the tension then equips his backpack and skips away.
“And where do you think you are going?” asks Falcon.
“Waiting for you. Show me the way.”
Falcon shrugs and leads Pintear into the woods. Pintear's stomach gurgles a bit abnormally. Vegetation seems to swallow them both as they enter the thicket of brush. Elm, poplar, live oak are just a few trees Pintear can identify as he follows Falcon deeper to their destination. Flies buzz around, trying to find a nice place to land on the both of them, making the crazy fairy visit for a bit with Pintear, as he swats and waves them away. Preoccupied with the shooing of flies, gnats, and the like, Pintear does not notice Falcon abruptly stopping. He walks into Falcon which feels like striding into a cement wall head first.
“What's wrong? Why did you stop?” queries Pintear, sorely.
Rigid, the furred man stands untouched by Pintear's run-in and words. The fur on his neck is standing straight out, poking into the air. Concerned, Pintear inches around to the side and stand in front to see what could be making him so statuesque. Pintear nearly falls back on the ground when he sees Falcon's blazed look of feral fury. His lips are baring his canine teeth that are gritting, slobber is dripping down his chin. His eyes burn red with ferocity never seen by man before, a red blotchy aura emanates from the soulless orbs that pours to either sides of his face like crimson amoebic tears into the air, but never parting from his eyes. All his fur is on edge like the back of his neck, claws extended while his paws spasmodically open and close. He spontaneously starts shaking and twitching, as if to hold something back. Falcon's unseeing eyes become aware of the world once again and dart to Pintear, never once losing their unearthly glow. Pintear now begins to fear for his life.
The air feels like it is getting warmer the longer he stands by Falcon and the ground shakes with fury. He takes a few steps to trip and land on his back. Eyes still locked, a single tear runs out of Falcon's eye. He lifts his head into the air and shrieks a cry like nothing Pintear has ever heard, rattling him to the bone with fright and shakes his spirit. The sound is so great the air pulsates with it. Falcon then turns to the nearest tree, which is as wide as him, and raises his paw as if to scratch it. A bright, swirling red fire bursts from his uplifted paw, his claws glow like the sun, searing at the air around them. With a motion so fast that Pintear could not see his paw move, Falcon splits the tree clean in half using his claws, the top portion flying into the brush far away, crashing loudly in the distance.
Earth fills his fingernails, while he scratches and crawls on his backside. The leaf covered soft dirt beneath Pintear's heels offers little blessings of traction, as he scurries on the ground away from his enraged, psychotic friend. His fleeing scrapes alerted Falcon to the presence of another and Falcon turns to face Pintear, his visage still pouring rampant red rage, and takes a step closer. The step thunders with power. Pintear's heart began to beat hard enough for him to hear it in his throat, almost leaping out his chest.
Suddenly, the colors of the forest wash all together, making a blurry green and brown paste. His heart began to beat faster like a tympani being thrashed by a wrath filled chimpanzee. Exhilaration temporarily replaces fear. Lightening tingles in his fingertips that grasp at the cool ground. Another loud thud crashes the ground, signifying another step closer. The air rushes out of Pintear as if he had just sprinted for a mile. His head becomes light and heavy intermittently and energy courses through his body, breaking through any barriers he has like white rapids destroying a well built dam.
His skin bursts, as if on fire, inflamed with immense heat. Another crash sounds. His muscles vibrate, fueled by the torrent of power. He does not believe he can handle this onslaught of raw energy much longer. Two more clasps of thunder rattle the air. Falcon now stands beside Pintear who is lying on the ground twitching. Pintear sees Falcon has approached him and begins to resume his squirming, now in fast forward. A strong paw wraps around Pintear's arm with great force. Pintear is lifted into the air by the strong paw, where he dangles tensely in front of Falcon, face to face.
Pintear dangles helplessly in front of the frothing feral ferret, waiting for the impending death he will receive. Instead of waiting for his fate, he goes for broke and uses his free arm to pull Falcon close to him. Falcon shakes, like he is weighing a tough decision. Pintear just remains steadfast in his embrace, holding him tight. “Please, I know you are in there. Please, come back to me. I love you,” cries Pintear into Falcon's ear.
Finally, Falcon loosens his grip; the words reach him. Pintear carefully slides into Falcon's arms to hold him. Unexpectedly, Falcon places his head in between Pintear's neck and shoulder, covering Pintear in his unruly hair, and cries deeply.
“I'm so sorry!” cries and pleas Falcon, “I made the tea far too strong and I couldn't control it. I almost killed you!”
Pintear, not knowing what to say to such a statement, strokes Falcon's hair and gently hums. His hums gains a rhythm and tune, from remembrance of what had calmed him down not too long ago, until he sings aloud, strong and confident, “Sequoia Lullaby”, verbatim.
Their hearts both pound loud enough to break the silence. Falcon removes his head from the crevice of Pintear's neck and shoulder and strongly embraces Pintear.
“I thank you dearly,” says Falcon, getting his grip on his emotional stability.
Pintear's hands still shake with uneasiness from his near death experience. He replies, “It will be all right. You did warn me about it, but I would never have thought you would become so violent.”
Falcon retracts his claws as he rights himself and brushes off the dirt and twigs from Pintear's blue uniform. “It's a slight part of our nature to be like that, but it is usually repressed from birth. Rage is not uncommon, though we have a friend or someone equally as strong as us around to keep from damaging anything.”
“Will I be okay when I change? Will I do something like that?”
“Do not fret, my dear. I will be right beside you. We are still ourselves when we go into a rage fit, it is just really hard to control it. You did the correct thing.” Falcon runs his paw through Pintear's pompadour and tousles his hair.
Pintear, glad that he had helped, smiles and shyly brushes away Falcon's paw. To avoid more awkward conversations, Pintear moves to shift the backpack to look distracted, but when he does nothing is there. He grabs for the straps, but they are not on him. Turning around and looking over the area, he finds his backpack, as well as Falcon's, around the same area he had been when he bumped into Falcon. “The stress of the situation must have distracted me badly,” thought Pintear. He traces his steps to his backpack, his pace is light. Pintear grabs his backpack and lifts it, nearly throwing it into the air. The bag is weightless like a leaf in his hand. He bobs it up and down to test the weight.
“Good stuff isn't it?” says Falcon, who followed Pintear to get his bag as well.
“It's like I ate a barrel of steroids!”
“Well, sadly, this is only temporary. If we stop for too long we will pass out from exhaustion. We need to keep moving.”
Pintear throws his backpack high into the air and holds his arms into the air where his bag falls right into place. He taps his legs quickly in anticipation and asks, “Where to now?”
“I'm feeling really frisky right now, so just follow me and try to keep up. If I lose you just follow my tracks. They will be impossible to overlook.” Falcon also picks up his backpack with ease and throws it on. Just to be odd, Falcon spins around, grabs his groin, moonwalks backwards, and pointing his finger to Pintear, beckons him to follow.
Pintear, now completely at ease, giggles at Falcon's silly antic and begins walking in the direction Falcon is heading, backwards. He watches Falcon's slides turn to steps, then backward leaps, gaining incredible speed with each stride. To not lose Falcon, Pintear starts out with a light jog then before he realizes it, he is sprinting, using the same energy as a brisk walking pace. His footsteps feel light as he is running on clouds. No resistance, no heavy strides laden him. Pintear cheers for the speed he has gained.
Unfazed by the cheers, Falcon continues his pace, growing faster and faster. Falcon's two yard strides soon transcend to hops and then leaps. Fearing that he will be left behind, Pintear quickens his strides to barely match Falcon's. Even at the straining pace Pintear is succeeding, he still feels no wear on his body. “This is like magic!” exclaims Pintear to Falcon.
“Speaking of magic, I'm going to do something I haven't done in years. Just try to follow,” yells back Falcon. He then leaps high into the air and jumps from tree branch to tree branch, like an acrobatic monkey, grabbing miscellaneous tufts of leaves to correct his path through the canopy. Pintear almost loses him in the denseness of foliage. At one point, all that lets Pintear know that Falcon is still in the trees is the quick sounds of rustling leaves against a fast moving body.
Pintear's inhuman sprinting never wanes, just keeps steady. The trees become even more closely placed together, making it harder to dodge at his current speed and even harder to keep up with Falcon. Coincidentally, Falcon decided to come down from the tops of the trees.
“That was fun!” exclaims Falcon, as he continues running, in a tone similar to child that just went on his first water park ride. “You need to try that when we come back. It's so exhilarating!”
“I'll mark it on my list of things to do,” replies Pintear with new found sarcasm. Pintear feels his legs and body are becoming quite warm from this unrelenting jog. He knows it has only been fifteen minutes at most they have been running through this dodge fest of trunks. He yells to Falcon, “How much farther do we have?”
Falcon slows enough to match Pintear. “We are almost there. Maybe less than three miles, now. The knothole is only seventeen miles away from where we parked the limo,” says Falcon.
“Okay, that's not so... Wait a second!” says Pintear, stumbling on his thoughts from his sudden realization of how far they have gone. “We've run a mile a minute!”
“About that, yes. Why? Is that a problem? Addendum, I was in the canopy for a mile or two. ”
Pintear just draws a blank. “How is this even possible?” loops in Pintear's mind. The forest sloshing by still does not help his point.
“If you think this is insane, then you are in for a big wake up when we go to Freydur,” says Falcon, doing his mind reading trick again.
“Get out of my head!” barks Pintear.
Falcon laughs loud enough to echo in the thicket of the trunks and sprints back to his leading position.
After a few more minutes of dodging seemingly endless towers of flora, Falcon, without any warning, skids, then jumps a few feet in the air, rebounding off of a large based tree, and flips backward to a total halt. Pintear, not expecting such an abrupt change, is forced to skid a full twenty feet before he can stop, but not before falling flat on his behind. He stands up rubbing his bottom to dull the annoying pain. His head still pulses with his unlocked energy.
“Have to show off don't you?” asks Pintear, annoyed by the lack of warning.
Falcon grins and with his best impersonation of an imbecile says, “Yup.” He spreads his arms, facing an old, blackened, gnarled tree that seems to be barely clinging to life with missing branches and leaves. “We're here.”
“This is the knothole? It looks like a dead, fat twig,” says Pintear, unimpressed.
“To a closed mind, yes, this is just but a tree. But, it is not the knothole...” says Falcon, while he extends his pointer finger with his claw extracted. He places his claw against the bark and mutters something low and in an unfamiliar language, a compilation of growls and chirps, but with the same structure and sound as Russian, like an incantation, then drags his claw down the jagged bark. Where his claw is dragged, the bark unlocks with itself and splits open with cracks and groans, as if it is reluctant to the will of Falcon to open to an elliptical hole in trunk, big enough to easily fit a person through. “This is the knothole,” says Falcon, cheerfully, spreading his arms out, once again.
The knothole is more like a portal. It opens into a hallway about ten feet in, then drops off to a stairwell that leads straight down. Dimly lit with hanging lanterns, that seem to have a small flame that is fed by an unknown source, most likely magic, leading all the way down the hallway and stairs. Everything, save the lanterns, looks to have been carved right out of the tree, grainy and dark, and all polished-- same as Falcon's home.
Rushing to the back side of the hallwayed tree, Pintear tries to see where the hall ends on the other side, but just finds dark bark and branches. His brain feels like it is about to explode the more he thinks about the illogical physics of what he is seeing. “How the-? What the-? Where is-?” stutters Pintear, wrapping his brain around lack of an exit.
“I wouldn't bother worrying about how it works. It will just confuse you more,” says Falcon as he saunters around the trunk, then leans against it, crossing his arms. “Let us just go. The longer we wait the more tired we will get. The tea will wear off soon and we will crash like a train wreck where we stand.”
Pintear can swallow the fact there is the tall talking ferret, extreme speed, and a tree that evacuates its innards to allow both to live in it. All of that is inherent “magic” of living things, not a larger object existing inside a smaller object-- square peg, round hole kinda thing. Although, he does the best he can to ignore that fact that every law of physics he has known has just been broken in the past thirty seconds.
Falcon puts his paw on Pintear's shoulder and leads him back to the entrance of the hall. “And down the rabbit hole we go, Alice.”
“Alice?”
“Yup,” says Falcon, in the same imbecilic tone he mocked earlier, then reverts back to his usually snarky tone. “Alice.”