She found herself hanging from her wrists, two feet off the ground, staring at rock statue. It was seven feet tall, made of stone and had a slim, but carved, mustache.

The night was dark and there was a campfire nearby. The statue’s face was flickering in orange and reds. She looked up and saw that the statue was holding her, carefully, by her wrists. It did not hurt her wrists - her shoulders, on the other hand, were starting to burn.

She kicked out trying to get down but only hurt her foot on the statue’s midsection

“Would you knock it off?” said the statue lightly. It’s stone mouth moved. The statue tilted its head to the side but it’s carved hat didn’t shift. Its short carved hair didn’t move.

For some reason Marion was more shocked by how the statue sounded than the fact it spoke at all. It’s voice was not loud or deep, just a normal human voice . . . coming from a statue.

“Sorry?” Marion said.

“I’m not sure why that sounded like a question,” said the statue, in a voice very close to one of Marion’s aunts. When it’s mouth moved there was the slight sound like sand falling. “Are you sorry or aren’t you?”

“Well,” Marion said while trying to figure it out for herself, “no, I’m not particularly sorry for kicking you. I mean, you’re holding me up in the air by my wrists which is not cool.”

“That’s a fair point,” said someone off to her right.

She swung her feet around to twist her body.

“Oh, just hang on,” said the statue and it put her down. The sand sound came back as its arms lowered her to the ground.

“Thank you?” said Marion. She was looking at a little man with a massive beard and an even more massive black axe. Marion didn’t know which one to concentrate on. The axe, strapped to his back, was huge. But, then again, so was the beard. Her eyes, and brain, were split between which one to look at. She could barely see his eyes. She couldn’t even see his mouth but his beard moved up and down as he talked.

“Hmm,” said the beard. “I see how you’re confused, Audrey. Seems this one can only be polite in questions.”

“Better than the other one,” said the statue, “poking in here with a stick. Nearly knocked the kettle off the fire, that one.”

“And where is ‘that one?’” asked Marion.

“Hiding in that tree,” said the ax.

When the little man looked at her, she could make herself think of him as the beard, but when it turned its back, the only thing she could think of was that big black axe. The axe blade had deep and beautiful carvings throughout and a handle nearly as tall as the short man himself.

“Ok,” said Marion. “Give me a moment here, please. I just need a second to take this in. Can we pause for just a second?”

On the fire was a metal grate and on top of that was a kettle, rustling before the boil.

“Polite, that was,” said the beard.

“And a please that wasn’t a question, too,” said the statue. “Looks like she’s making progress.”

“We will grant you your moment as I have to pour some tea,” said the beard. The ax was tucked behind him, so the long arc of the ax blade stood out behind his left ear.

“Care for a cup?” the statue asked Marion.

“Right generous you are with my tea there, Audrey,” said the ax (the beard had turned away from her to tend the kettle on the fire).

“We are civilized people,” said the statue to the little man.

“You’re a statue,” said Marion to the statue.

“Exactly,” said the statue turning back to her with a smile. “This pause of yours is working wonders already.”

Marion nodded and looked around. She was in a forest but they weren’t her woods - it was too thick to be her woods and the trees too huge - it was a proper forest, thick and lush with old growth. Nothing that you could ever cut down to build a neighborhood.

It was night time, she could see the stars above her in the clearing, fighting to brighten the world. More stars than Marion had ever seen in one place.

Around the little campfire were two sleeping bags, one short and one very thick. There was a mule, or a donkey (how do you tell them apart?) standing tied to a tree, looking bored and scratching it’s round blunt nose on the bark.

The beard worked around the fire like an expert, slipping a thick leather glove, blackened from use, on before grabbing the dark cast iron kettle. He had the glove’s match tucked into his wide belt, ready if he needed another. His clothes were thick like doubled over cloth.

The statue, Audrey, went over to a cart near the donkey and opened a trunk looking for tea. The statue was a statue of a hunter, with broad shoulders, a square jaw and plenty of muscles. On it’s back was a bow with a quiver and a sword ran down it’s leg, all carved in stone. It even had on a pointed hat with a feather in it, like Robin Hood.

The speed and ease with which it moved was amazing, it was smooth and graceful. If not for the sound of sand, it would seem to be an actual man, though the rough stone would make it look like an ill man.

Marion noticed that when it walked, the sword carved down its leg bent with its knee and doubted the statue could actually use it, except to knee someone.

“Your name is Audrey,” she said to the statue, slightly slower than she intended.

“Yes,” came the reply with a little snip in the tone.

“But you’re a ma-”

“Statue.” finished Audrey with a finality in her voice, making it two syllables. Sta. Chew.

“You are a statue of a hunter . . . who happens to be a ma-,” said Marion trying to get to it with another angle.

“Rogidon,” she said proudly, “God of the Hunt.”

“But you are not Rogidon?” asked Marion.

“No, of course not. I’m a statue of Rodigon,” said Audrey, “Rogidon was flesh and blood, born of a the god Dempilocus and a fern. I am made of limestone. Hence ‘statue.’”

Marion looked at Audrey and planned very carefully what to say next. The sword on her leg might not be real but she was made of hard stone and that was dangerous enough.

“Ok,” Marion said slowly, “but your voice is a gir-”

“Oh geez elouise,” said the beard. He was standing next to Audrey with two cups of tea. He handed one to Audrey. “Look at the girl’s clothes, Audrey. She’s never spoken to a dwarf and a statuary before.”

“It’s true,” said Marion grateful for some help, “I haven’t.”

“I’m an Axe Dwarf. See?” he said to Marion and pointed to the large arc of blade behind him.

“Hard to miss,” said Marion politely. Never, ever upset someone with a three foot long blade.

“Good. I’m Roy the Black Axe. I’m from the east but most of us are making our way west now. This is Audrey,” he said pointing a thumb at the statue. “She is a statue made of enchanted rock from the Cavernam Laci quarry, in the foothills of Holindime.”

“A dwarf and an enchanted statue,” said Burress from a nearby tree, finally piping up.

“I am not an enchanted statue, like some common garden statue brought to life by a house warlock to amuse the birthday boy!” said Audrey sternly to the tree. “I am a statue that was carved from enchanted rock. Rock that was enchanted a thousand years ago when two wizards fought a great battle and fell, spilling magic upon the ground below them. I was me before the artist removed the rock around me to carve Rogidon out.”

“She’s angry because she’s female rock carved into a male statue,” said Roy. “I’d say it left a chip on her shoulder but that’s not a good thing to say to a statue.”

“Ha,” said Audrey very sarcastically, “ha.”

Marion could almost make out a smile from the Roy. At least she thought she saw the mustache move up a tick at the corners.

Marion looked up into the tree that Burress was in. He was up above them about fifteen feet, sitting with his legs swung over a large branch. Huge leaves blocked most of him from sight.

“I may have freaked out a little,” said Burress.

“Perfectly acceptable,” said Marion to him. “I’m going to scream in my pillow for about an hour when we get home.”

“When,” repeated Burress. “That’s the key word there.”

“Right,” said Marion screwing her face up a bit. She looked at Roy. “So. How do we get home?”

Roy looked at them through his beard in a way that clearly said ‘ you really have to ask?’

“Same way you came here, love,” he said.

“We were yanked here by Audrey,” said Burress in the tree.

“You,” said Audrey as she took a sip, looking up at Burress with pointed eyes, “almost peed on me. After which began jamming a stick at us.”

“Apologize,” said Marion to Burress.

“I was opening my mouth to do just that,” said Burress with a bit of anger. “Now it looks like the only reason I’m going to apologize is because you told me.”

“Just do it,” she said.

“I will,” he said from the tree.

There was a short pause.

“Well?” asked Marion, getting slightly annoyed with the conversation.

“Erg, M, I was working up to it,” Burress said, also slightly annoyed. Ok, you know what?. Let’s shake it out. Get rid of it.”

“Just to point out,” said Marion, “this is the second time in, like, fifteen minutes we’ve had to do this.”

“It’s been quite a fifteen minutes, though, ” said Burress. “There should be special dispensation.”

Marion grunted then took a deep breath and started flapping her arms, rolling her wrists up and back. Soon it became the wave and she passed it from one arm to the other, bobbing her head in the middle, getting a little groove on.

Audrey didn’t look up from her tea and said, almost to quiet to hear, “I wouldn’t do that.”

Burress fell out of the tree with a thump.

Shaking it out from fifteen feet up didn’t work out well for him. He landed on their cart in a pile of supplies, bags of grain, flour and cloth.

“Told ya,” said Audrey and set the teacup back on its saucer.

Burress got up and rubbed his neck.

“Right,” he said as he pulled his head to one side, stretching. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve just never seen an invisible door to another place where statues made from enchanted rock hang out with Axe Dwarves named Roy.”

“So you peed into it?” asked Audrey.

“Well, that actually seems quite reasonable,” said Roy. “Nothing like a whizz in the great out of doors to relax you. But don’t try it around here, son: too many things with teeth in the deep woods. Use a toilet like normal people.”

“Boys are so weird,” said Audrey and Marion together.

“To get home,” said Roy, changing the subject back, “you go back through the thinny and you’ll be right where you started.”

“Where is it?” asked Marion. “The ‘thinny?’”

“The other side of that puddle,” said Roy, pointing with his empty teacup.

“Ugh,” said Marion and looked at Burress crossly. “Come on. I heard your dad yelling for you when I came through.”

“Oh crap,” said Burress. “I’ve been here for a long time! He’s going to be so mad he’ll scream half the trip then pointedly not talk for the rest of it!”

“He’s probably got a whole lot of that corner spittle gooing up,” said Marion. “You’re done for.”

“Hi,” said Audrey like she’d just shown up.

“Hi?” said Marion back to her with a small wave and a confused look.

“I can help,” said Audrey then she went to the thinny, making sure to walk around the damp spot on the ground next to the long branch.

She reached her hand out and started humming. Then, as she moved forward just a fraction of an inch, the tip of her pointer finger disappeared. Holding it there and, she started walking around what would be the back of the thinny. She looked like she was hugging an invisible tree as she put her other pointer in as well. It was like she was holding open a curtain, an invisible curtain, from behind. Her humming became lower pitched.

“Just walk through,” said Roy. “She’ll make sure you get back a just after you stepped through.”

Marion and Burress looked at Audrey then back to Roy.

“‘Enchanted’ rock, see?,” said Roy. “Small tricks. Barely magic but enough to be fancy. Go.”

Burress stepped up in front of Audrey. He said, “thank you,” then ducked his head and, just as it seemed he’d slam into Audrey’s stone midsection, he started to disappear.

Marion walked up to Audrey and the thinny to follow him through. She stopped and turned back to Roy.

“Thank you for everything,” she said. “But tell me: why are you heading east? And why is there a thinny in my woods?”

“The Brue, deary,” said Roy. “He’s moving things around.”

“Why?” asked Marion.

“Better you not know,” said Roy kindly. “Watch your woods. And be careful.”

Marion stepped through the tear in nothing and was back in her woods. Roxie stood tied to the branch. The trees around her seemed smaller compared to the massive trunks of the other forest and it was way to bright. Burress was holding his hand up against the sun and Marion rubbed hers to adjust.

In the distance Burress’ dad yelled his name again. It floated over the neighborhood and bounce between houses.

“That’s the ten minute warning,” Burress said. “I have to go but . . .”

They both glanced over their shoulders at the unseen spot they just came through.

“Yeah,” said Marion. “Tell me about it.”

“I won’t have reception while I’m gone,” said Burress, “and granny won’t abide a long distance call. Promise me you won’t go back in there until I get back.”

“No promises” said Marion, “but, trust me, I don’t want to. That was way too weird. If my mom found out I’d be grounded all vacation.”

“I guess that’s good enough,” said Burress. Then he did something odd. He hugged her.

“Uh,” she said not quite returning the hug.

“I know, sorry, but this thinny feels like something big,” he said when he broke the hug. “I should be here to help but I’ll be in beautiful Scranton with my gran instead. The hug was for me, to remind me you’re still here, that this was real and this isn’t some dream I’m having after I stroked out while packing my bag.”

Then he turned to leave and gave Roxie a scratch behind the ear on the way passed. He crossed the street without looking either way and hopped the fence behind the back of their neighbor’s house.

Marion looked down at the sticks around her feet, kicking them over until she found a thin one with a bunch of white shelf mushrooms running up it’s length. She slid it along the ground with her foot until the end of it disappeared back into the thinny, marking it, just in case. Then she got Roxie and when back inside to make herself a pre-dinner snack.

Next Chapter: 3: A Conversation