Henry breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh good. Thank you, Spike. That’s a big relief.”
Spike left to go back to his hiding spot under the crab’s body.
Henry stood up and went back to Talon’s side.
“I couldn’t help overhearing,” Talon said. “Where did you get such incredibly powerful medicine?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Henry said. “I’m actually glad I’m finally rid of it.”
“I don’t understand,” Talon said. “Wouldn’t every healer wish to have a large stock of such a medicine?”
Henry regarded the bronze giant. “You’ve lived thousands of years,” he said. “Have you ever thought about what it would be like if you could die?”
“Many times in the past I’ve longed for such a thing,” admitted Talon.
Henry nodded wisely. He had spent hours thinking about it since that day in Ishibashi’s greenhouse when the scientist had given him the seaweed. “I don’t like having the power to take away someone’s death,” said Henry. “It’s too much responsibility. For me, at least. I worry about it a lot.”
Talon nodded thoughtfully. “You are wise beyond your years, lad,” he said. “I hope your worries subside now that you have so valiantly used up your supply.”
Henry gazed out over the water. “I have a feeling I’ll sleep all right tonight.”
Florence approached with an armload of firewood and some sand chairs. She stoked the fire as Lhasa the snow lion came prancing out of the woods, not quite touching the ground as always. Behind her was Bock, silent and observant as ever.
Talon watched them settle around the fire. “I think this is our cue,” he said to Henry. “Time for a story. I only wish Fox and Kitten were here to tell it.”
Henry laughed. “I guess you’ll have to tell one instead.”
“I shall do it with pleasure,” said Talon. “Whose story would you like to hear?” Talon and Henry walked over to the fire to join the others.
“The story of that smelly, blurry one, please,” said Henry.
“Ah, the hibagon,” Talon said.
“Yes, him.”
They settled by the fire next to Florence, and Talon announced the Tale of the Hibagon.
“I wish there were a great long story about the hibagon,” Talon began. “But Lhasa and I will tell you everything we know, won’t we Lhasa?”
“We will!” said Lhasa, her voice ringing with laughter. “Start us off, please.”
Talon smiled and began. “Not long ago, perhaps twenty years or so, a large bundle of logs bumped up against the side of Karkinos, just there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the eastern shore. “The logs were the size of entire tall trees, taller and bigger around than any tree we have growing here.”
Lhasa smiled dreamily. “I imagined they were trees from a giant forest that had never been found by anyone but the creatures living peacefully in it.”
Talon nodded. “I wrestled the logs ashore, thinking we could use them for firewood once they dried out. But when I released the cords that enclosed the bundle and the logs rolled apart, a strange creature emerged. I admit it gave me a fright, for I wasn’t expecting that. He was about as tall as you, Henry, covered in black bristles as stiff and sharp as pine needles. And he carried with him a rotten stench of death that could drop a human to his knees to beg for mercy.”
Lhasa curled up her nose. “He walked upright like a man but hunched over, and darted about so jaggedly that he was hard to see clearly. And even when he stood still, which wasn’t very often, he seemed blurry. Like his body had no true outline—his bristly coat faded away at the edges. I admit I couldn’t stand to look at him.”
“Which turned out to be good,” Talon said, “because once I coaxed a name from the fellow he insisted I not look at him again, for stories were told in the land he came from about the dangers of looking too long at a hibagon.”
Henry leaned forward, intrigued. “What are the dangers?” he asked.
“If you look at a hibagon, you’ll fall in love with him.” Lhasa tittered.
“Ugh!” cried Henry. “That would be horrible! Once you fall in love with him, does his stink go away?”
“I don’t know,” said Talon, “for I assure you I’ve never looked long at him again.”
“Ah,” said Florence, “but what an awful curse to have. Poor hibagon. He seemed kind enough to warn you.”
“He is kind, indeed,” said Talon. “But very uncomfortable around anyone. He soon dashed off into the woods, leaving us wondering about his origins. When I ran across him again some weeks later, he asked me about Issie. He said he knew of her from his world. She was as notorious as he.”
Henry frowned. “He’s from another world? And so is Issie?”
“So it seems, although Issie has never spoken enough to confirm it,” said Talon. “It’s a mystery to all of us. Both the hibagon and Issie are famous elsewhere, though we know not what for.”