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This company is one of the foundations I’m building my kids’ inheritance upon, and I will nаmе it fоr уоu tоdау. Her own heart banging in her chest, Helbara watched the Wrackshee kayaks approaching relentlessly. Moonlight clearly revealed the albino Wolf in the lead kayak—sm in stature, abnormy flattened face, thick-necked, with a large moustache. She shuddered. Six kayaks. One Wolf and five Weasels. Somew behind them, many more. If she and Helga were discovered, what resistance could they er? Suddenly the kayaks slowed, pausing about twenty yards away—close enough that the Wrackshees’ awful stench covered the area with a suffocating blanket. Using hand signals to communicate, the slavers silently peered and t for any sign of their prey. The razor-sharp tips of dozens of sm throwing lances, carried on bandoliers slung over the Wrackshees’ shoulders, shone red in the moonlight. Helbara knew that terrible things happened to beasts hit by those poisoned tips—going mad with thirst, eyes bugging, bleeding the color of grass. Each time the gaze of a Wrackshee seemed to fix on the spot w they were concealed, Helbara trembled on the edge of panicked flight. To do so, however, would mean certain capture or death. They were trapped. With every ounce of inner strength, Helbara held her panic in . Shee’wheet, Helga, Shee’wheet...We must be very still. Do not say anything unless I ask you to. As she uttered these words, she attempted to shift Helga’s weight on her back and slipped on the loose sand. Her boot seemed to suddenly drop into a hole. Catching herself before she made a complete f, she feared the Weasels might have observed her misstep. For the moment, however, their pursuers seemed to be absorbed in their sign language consultation. Moving her boot gently, Helbara explored the apparent hole w she had stumbled. The ing was large—the submerged end of a long-decaying fen tree. In the moonlight, Helbara’s eyes struggled to see evidence of the rest of the tree. The dense reeds and willows made it difficult to be certain, but the position of the hollow end she had discovered seemed connected to a massive upended root clump visible further down the . How much of the tree was hollow? Sweet-Leaf, Helbara whispered very softly, I need you to explore something for me. Slide quietly my back, take a deep breath, and duck underwater—see if you can tell if this tree beside us is hollow. The ly dampened Helga’s fear. was an antidote to terror. As quietly as the reeds waved in the soft evening breeze, she disappeared below the surface. In a few moments she was back. Not hollow very far, she whispered, but t’s a big ing at first. Then the hollow part ends, but t’s a hole in the bark at the end that’s above water. It’s sm but a beast could breathe t. Pausing and looking deeply into her mother’s eyes, she concluded with a tone of sorrow, But room for a sm beast. As she listened to her daughter’s report, a plan rapidly formed in Helbara’s mind. It was none too . The albino Wrackshee made a quick sign with his paw. The gesture was at the same time purposeful and sinister. The Weasels were no longer waiting. Two of the kayaks turned and glided directly toward the Wood Cows’ hiding place. Pressing her daughter close to her chest in a comforting embrace, Helbara calmly gave Helga instructions. The hollow space in the tree is large enough, she said, to conceal you well for some time. The Wrackshees will not likely think to look t . They may not even k you escaped with me. I want you to quietly—just as quietly as you did before—duck under again and hide in the hollow space in the tree. Be absolutely quiet no matter what happens. Helga ly understood she was being asked to play a game of hide-n-seek with their pursuers. Long moments seemed to drag by. T had been no mention of what her mother planned to do. Then Helbara urged Helga underwater and whispered, Sweet-Leaf, Mamma’s going to talk to those Snake-bloods to make certain they don’t harm you. You wait in that hollow place and stay as quiet as you can. She gave Helga a squeeze and handed her a pronghorn flute she had played for her back in their . Take this, Sweet-Leaf, it’s my that I’ll be back. Helga’s eyes met her mother’s in a deeply moving, but silent, farewell as she slipped the flute in her pocket. How long Helga remained , she didn’t k. When anxiety and loneliness became too much to bear, she cautiously emerged from the hollow tree. Finding the river silent and empty, she struggled to keep her terror in . Her eyes filled with tears, and for several moments, she she stood silently, her lips trembling. Then she wiped her eyes, pushed her fear aside, and began sloshing miserably through the river shows. W she was going, she did not k. She knew that she must move on. Then, the silhouette of a large canoe filled her misted vision, looming before the same young Helga, who was sloshing miserably through the river shows during the deepest dark of the night. A beast crouched low in the canoe grabbed her with long, brawny arms. Captured in the strong grasp of this unkn powerful stranger, Helga’s sense of panic surged. In a despe effort to escape, she was almost ready to bite the beast that held her, when the whisper of a gruff voice ped her struggles. Hey-hey, ya lee’tle Bungeet! da chop sputter, or those Wracker’mugs will b’a back at ya ’gin frighter t’en ever. Shee’wheet... The softly whispered Shee’wheet calmed Helga. The gentle, soothing tones, so like her mother, marked this rough stranger with a kindly manner that made her feel safe. Settling the sm Wood Cow in the bottom of the canoe, her rescuer—Pickles DiArdo as she later learned—continued his soft soothing lullaby and patted her gently on the back in assurance of safety, as his partner began paddling again. This’n Bungeet’s had some stinkin’ Wracker’mugs b’itin at her, Pickles said to the other Trapper Dog paddling in the prow. Go for Mianney’s, Lupes—the Healer will s’nd her pain t’way. The canoe traveled about another two hundred yards and turned into a sm, nearly invisible side channel flowing into the main river course from among the willows. Paddling with gentle determination against the current, the canoe glided toward a rough shack perched high above the water on stout poles. Giving one final hard push with their paddles, the Trapper Dogs bent low as the canoe glided under a dense thicket of wild thorn trees growing around the shack. The thorns, tough as steel and with points so sharp and fine they made marvelous sewing needles, ringed the cabin like sentries. No one would attempt to approach the shack through such ferocious thorns except those invited to come and shown the way to pass. The thorns did not deter Pickles and Lupes, who often visited Mianney Mayoyo. Tying their canoe to one of the thorn trees, Lupes unrolled a bark mat and threw it up over the lowest branch of the tree. Using the mat for safe passage over the outermost thorns, the three travelers reached the interior of the tree w they were able to drop to the ground. Branches on the rear of this particular tree had been trimmed away to ow exit to the shack. They had hardly reached Mianney’s shack and ced out to her when she was instantly with them. The old River Cat, who was rumored to be ancient—some said she had always lived—had long, jet black hair that was smooth and shining from the walnut oil she rubbed into it each day. Dangling far down in front of her was an ornate necklace of beads, and on each wrist she had broad woven bracelets, decod with copper sunbursts. Mianney carried a sm basket. Without any word of greeting to her visitors, she pulled a bundle of dried herbs and two green-colored bs of thorn tree pitch from the basket. Arranging the herbs and pitch bs in a ceremonious pile before them, with seeming magic she produced a glowing coal from her jacket pocket and lit the pile. A sudden burst of flame, and the herbs and pitch bs sent up a sharp pillar of fire. As the sm fire flamed, Mianney’s deep brown eyes darted and t gleefully. Her bubbling wild intensity frightened some superstitious people, who said she was a demon in disguise. Mianney did seem to do things that were supernatural. The flames that burned so furiously for a few moments, suddenly died down, ing a dense pungent cloud of smoke. Still without speaking, with lightning quickness Mianney lifted Helga to her arms and ascended the ladder to her shack. In the blink of an eye she and Helga were gone. A wisp of pungent smoke, swirling w Mianney had stood, was that assured Pickles and Lupes that she had actuy been with them a moment before... As Mianney held Helga close through that long-ago night, flute music, rising and fing from a more distant cabin—belonging to Edna Note—was a safe and soothing sound in the dark. That flute music—so comforting, such a balm on her terror—was, for Helga, a symbol of her deliverance. The peaceful imprint of the flute melody wafting to her during the darkest part of the night struck Helga in the heart as powerfully as the shafts of yellow sunlight that illumined Mianney Mayoyo’s shack the next morning. It was as if her mother’s to return had been fulfilled. , as the memories from ten years before faded, the sight of Miss Note, graying and bent, sent shivers down Helga’s spine. A powerful instinct of the heart urged Helga to quickly push through the crowd, hurrying to see Miss Note. The stooped old Badger, her face still hearty and strong, greeted Helga gleefully. Helga, Helga, Helga...Look at you, Edna smiled, her eyes tearing with joy, clasping Helga in a tight embrace. Even my eyes that are not what they used to be can see that you are changed. You are no longer the wild rapscion that aged me beyond my years. The elderly music teacher laughed, continuing to hold Helga by the shoulders, gazing intently at her as if seeing something in Helga that eyes were not needed to see. Miss Note, I’m truly sorry...Helga began. I meant... ... meant to put mice in my longhornphone...or to smear my flute with snake grease...or to c me ‘Old Lady Sqawkbeak’? Edna smiled. You k, of course, that I laugh about those old torments..I’m so happy you’ve returned while I can still greet you. Travelers have brought us news of you. Everyone is so excited. Sareth and Elbin are waiting over by the Perquat’s wagon, and t are lots of other folk over at the Commons. I couldn’t wait to see you, so Neppy helped me through the crowd. We’ve heard some stories...can it be true? T must be time to tell us everything. Helga stepped back and looked at Miss Note fondly. It seems strange, as I think about it, Miss Note, she began. I’ve seen things and been terrified for my . I can hardly believe what has happened to me. But, as strange as it seems, my greatest adventures were within myself. Helga paused, looking embarrassed. I was going through some confusing times when I used to torment you. Somehow, though everyone was kind, I didn’t seem to fit in anyw. I felt so strange. That’s why I left the Rounds. When I met the Lynx who knew my father, I just had to go. You’ve changed since I last saw you, Helga, Edna observed. Helga paused, looking into the distance as if again seeing something t. My story is not my own, Miss Note, she said. In my mind I see so many s who are not and able to tell the part they had in my adventures. My story is actuy many stories. As I tell it, it may sound like one story, but it is rey many stories that cross each other. Creatures that I will k have had a hand in my story and I in theirs. So, you’ll have to forgive me as I tell my story...I don’t k it myself. A few months before Helga’s triumphant return to the Rounds, her brother, Emil, went on a journey which was to have profound consequences for her story… Bad storm breakin’, Emil thought, as dark purple clouds swept down the mountains and spatters of rain began to f. The storm came up so quickly that Emil had not even noticed the piles of clouds gathering in the distance. the flying clouds were overhead and thunder rumbled. CRAAACK! A fork of lightning flashed, striking a towering tree along the path just ahead. Splitting down the trunk, the largest part of the tree fell across the path, forcing him to climb clumsily through the wreckage as the branches lashed in the wind. Crutt! he grunted into the rising wind. Worse than bad, this storm’s goin’ to tear things up before it’s done! Holding his hat tightly on his head, he leaned forward against the powerful gusts tearing at his coat. Caught in the , with no hope of relief, Emil battled a sense of dismal foreboding. Yar! he muttered after a few moments of self-pity. Whether bad or not, you find it in the end—so I better keep going! Struggling to pick up his pace, he knew the worst was yet to come. Everything beyond the line of low-hanging clouds was disappearing behind sheets of rain. Grimly determined, Emil pushed forward. When the full force of the storm hit, however, he was completely unprepared for the blinding chaos that engulfed him. A howling north wind sent blinding sheets of rain whirling around him like a curtain. Briefly considering the possibility of seeking shelter, he decided against it. No, t’s no good ping place. Nothing to do but keep moving, I’ll not be ruined by water and it will pass. Splashing forward through the deepening puddles on the road, Emil pulled at his hat brim trying to keep the rain from his eyes. The wild, swirling downpour made it nearly impossible to find his way. His shoulders bobbed up and down as he trudged on along the road, moving more by the feel of the path beneath his feet than by sight. Ear-splitting thunder and searing bolts of lightning would have sent most beasts flying under any available cover, but Emil did not fear or falter. With a pocket full of coins earned from delivering his family’s goods to market, he could not dy. If t’s to be pike and biscuits on the table tonight, I’ve got to at the grocer’s on the way —t’s been enough of potatoes and greens this week! Beyond the desire to the hated greens, he’d also d Helga he would some of their father’s favorite peppermints for his birthday. Got to keep going—dawdling in pity ’t keep me any drier. In spite of this resolve, however, Emil had to struggle mightily as he pushed on through the desolate, rain-swept landscape. He still had a long way to go. The journey to the Z-House was a long day’s trip even under conditions. The Wood Cow settlement at O’Fon’s Bluff was far removed from the other Hedgie villages. No respectable Hedgie wanted to live near the despicable outcasts. Although practicy every Hedgie owned a finely-made oaken chest, ash-handled tool, willow bow, pine bed, or other Wood Cow-made item, Hedgies would not trade directly with the Wood Cows. Keep the Wood Cows a bit, but their [image in footer dar devider] [small logotype footer Expert Modern Advice]( ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media, LLC. 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