“What?” Breister and Annie said, almost in the same breath. “What do you mean we already know the way out?”
“You have come from the WooPeace. You have found a way to get out of there and come here. That is all you need. The only reason creatures don’t leave the WooPeace is they believe they can’t. They allow an illusion to control them. Break the power of the illusion and you’re out of there!”
Breister and Annie were excited. “You mean we’re almost out of here? You mean it’s not much further? You mean it’s easy to get out of here?”
The Owl shook his head. “I didn’t say it was easy. I only said that you knew the way out. The way out is to want to get out more than anything else and to use your mind to find the way. There are many, many ways out of the caves. But you have to look for them to find them. You want out and you’re using your minds—that’s the way out.” The Owl turned around and began to walk off.
Breister and Annie followed. “No more clues, eh?” Breister asked hopefully.
“No more clues,” the Owl replied. “But I will give you some food and some work to do while you figure out your next step. Come on to my place.”
Breister and Annie followed the Owl, feeling dejected and angry. “I’d like to jump on him and stomp him!” Annie fumed. “He’s got a lot of nerve!”
“Now, now, Annie, keep a lid on it. Stomping him won’t do any good. We’re in our own tombs remember? If we don’t get out of here, we’re dead beasts. At least we’re getting some help and encouragement from the old bird, even if he is a bit daft!” Annie, realizing Breister was right, subdued her anger into a sulking slow burn, which she kept to herself.
Breister moved up to climb over the rough rocks beside the Owl. “So, you must live down here, eh?” Breister asked, panting, as they climbed up through an intricate series of stalactites and stalagmites.
“No, I don’t live here,” the Owl replied. “I’ve got a little cabin in the woods. My art studio is down here, but I don’t live down here.” He gave Breister a whimsical look. “What do you think I am, daft?”
“You live outside?” Breister again felt a surge of joy and hope. “How far is it? Which way do we go?”
The Owl sighed, “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“What do you mean, I don’t get it?” Breister howled, almost giving in to angry frustration. Then, seeing that the Owl was neither walking nor speaking, Breister calmed down again. “O.K., you win. I get the picture. We know the way out of here and can find it on our own.” Breister realized that his anger and frustration were wasted on the Owl, who was not going to help them beyond what he had already promised to do.
“So,” Breister went on, “what’s this about Kinshy?”
The Owl brightened up as they continued to scramble through passages. “Kinshy is an ancient, long-unused language,” he related. “I grew up among the WooSheep—first as a Woonyak in the WooPeace, and then among the WooSheep at the Bottoms. But I got so tired of the two clans hating each other that I decided to live alone. I built a little cabin in the woods, where I study Kinshy, play Tosht with an Otter friend that lives nearby, and paint in my studio.”
“You play Tosht?” Breister exclaimed. “It’s my favorite game!”
“They don’t call me Toshty for nothing!” the Owl grinned. “My real name is Pitinemon Asphodetalus T. Billpip—you can see why I prefer to be called Toshty.” Breister agreed that he also preferred the nickname.
Turning and twisting over mineralized passages, climbing over a sea of fissures, and scrambling through seeming mountain ranges of stalactites and stalagmites, finally Toshty stopped and said, “Shoooo-moooo-loooo, fraggnob billmwee, troots!...Welcome to my studio, friends!”
They had entered a large chamber lit with small lamps that glowed rather than burned. “I use a special kind of coal in my lamps,” Toshty explained. “I treat lumps of coal with a mineral bath and they glow brightly, but give off almost no smoke. It protects my work.” As he said this, he extended his wing to show off his work.
And what a work it was! Breister and Annie gazed in astonished admiration. Bears, Deer, Sheep, Cows, Badgers, Otters, Ducks...All kinds of creatures were powerfully and beautifully painted on the smooth walls of the chamber. It was gigantic and astonishingly beautiful. The painting went on and on and on. It was perhaps 100 feet long altogether, counting all the different patches of wall that were used.
“I’ve never seen anything so stunning! It’s gargantuously magnificent!” Breister stammered.