I stomped my foot. “That is not a lollipop. Spit it out. Right now!” Where was a rolled-up scroll when you needed one?
Kato looked at me, and I could almost hear his raised eye whiskers say, Make me.
Sinking down, I worked on prying open his muzzle. “You just ate a week’s worth of food.” Grunt. “You’re going…to get…fat.” Ugh. For such a little thing, he had jaws of steel. Last-ditch effort. “It could be poisonous.”
That got his attention. The hack he gave sounded exactly like Verte’s cat when it coughed up a hairball. Instead of a wad of fur, out came a small, wooden person. It looked like the love child of a bug and a stick. I didn’t know what it was, but I don’t think it was slimy naturally. Most likely it was just covered in Kato slobber.
And it was not happy.
“Big-footed booby, good for glammed giants. Pix yourselves off to the ever after and fimfammed your dwarf-dunged…”
I pride myself on using colorful expressions when the occasion arises, but this tiny thing had a bigger vocabulary of swears than any person I’d ever met. When he got around to describing Tinkerbell’s thong, my ears started to burn.
Disregarding the threat of poison, Kato lunged for the little man—and I say “man,” because with that language, the bug had to be male. I moved a pinch faster and scooped Kato up before his jaws snapped the rude twig in half.
Earlier, I’d only been joking about Kato getting fat, but hauling him up around his middle, I noticed he was bigger—and heavier—than he’d been at the palace.
“Bad whatever-beast-you-are. Leave the fairy alone!” I exclaimed, struggling to keep a squirming Kato in my arms.
“Fairy? First your mutt thinks I’m a lollipop, and now you think I’m a fairy? Do you see any wings, you pixing, pox-ridden prat?” the man said rudely, with great indignation.
Though I was tempted to set Kato down and let him have his snack, this was the first sign of semi-intelligent life I had come across, and I needed answers.
Time to brush up on princess charm-school training. Lesson #2: Always use your best manners when greeting an unfamiliar creature or person in a distant land. Rude princesses get turned to stone or reptiles much more often than polite ones.
“My sincerest apologies, sir. I meant no disrespect. I’m afraid I’m lost and have never come across one such as yourself. Could you please help me?” I batted my eyelashes in an attempt to appear damsel-in-distress-y.
Even twenty yards away, I could hear Rexi groan.
The bundle of fur under my arms stilled and looked at me, dumbfounded. His mouth hung open, and he blinked as if seeing me for the first time. Hey, I could be polite and have social skills when the situation called for it, though I was a tad out of practice, and I might have been laying it on a little thick.
The little man picked off some of the slobbery mucus and harrumphed. “Well, I’m a Bumpkin, and you’re a buggin’ primpitch. You’ll get no help outta me.”
Okay. Nice hadn’t worked; it was time to get royal on his bumpy butt.
Crouching down to Bumpkin level, I spoke with the regal tone I’d heard my parents use when they were being official. “I invoke the Rule of Favor. I saved your life and now you are indebted to me. As payment, I demand you guide me to the rainbow spring.”
The Bumpkin turned his back…and mooned me.
I so didn’t need that white hairy bum burned into my retinas. Fine, if the rule of favor was out of service, I was not above a little intimidation. Desperate times called for less than ladylike measures.
The Bumpkin gave a high-pitched squeak when I snatched him from the log. “Look, you nasty little fairy. I asked nicely. I appealed to your honor. Let’s try your survival instincts. You can help me, or you can play cat and mouse with Kato here.” I dangled him over my furry companion’s open maw.
“You wouldn’t.” His eyes narrowed, assessing me.
“Try me.”
“I’ll make you pay for this, hag bait.”
“You and what army?”
As if on cue, the log started shifting and changing shape. What looked like knots in the wood unfolded and became more Bumpkins. Now I got it. They probably got their name because they looked like bumps on a log.
And that log was really bumpy.
Kato and I backed away from the swarm. One four-inch creature wasn’t scary. Hundreds of the little buggers were another matter. Think wooden cockroaches. With sharp sticks. And pointy teeth.
A stinging bite from the Bumpkin in my hand startled me into dropping him.
“Charge!”
Within seconds, my legs were covered in Bumpkins. Kato tried to swat them like flies with his tail, but they were remarkably resilient. Definitely related to cockroaches.
For every one I brushed off, two more took its place. Aside from the creepy-crawly feeling of little feet all over me, I was being stung repeatedly as well.