But the familiarity ended there. The parklike clearing around the pond had never been nearly so crowded. Fairies fluttered everywhere, hundreds of them, in all shades and varieties. Exotic birds perched in the trees above the pond, including a few golden owls with human faces. Satyrs romped on the boardwalk and in the gazebos, hooves clacking against wooden planks as they chased merry maidens who looked no older than high school seniors. Off to one side of the pond was a tidy encampment of short, stocky men and women in homespun clothing. On the other side several tall, graceful women stood conversing, dressed in flowing robes that reminded Kendra of foliage. In a far corner of the field, right up against the hedge, Kendra observed a pair of centaurs staring back at her.
"Seth, Stan, Kendra!" yelled a jovial voice. "Glad you dropped in!"
Kendra turned and saw Doren gamboling toward the cart, followed by an unfamiliar satyr whose wooly white legs had brown spots.
"Doren!" Seth cried, leaping from the cart. "I'm so glad you outran Newel!"
"I led him on an epic chase," Doren bragged, beaming. "Sharp turns saved me. He got bigger, but wasn't quite as fleet. Tenacious, though. If I hadn't thought to come here, he would have snared me in the end."
Kendra climbed down from the cart.
The satyr with the white legs elbowed Doren. "This is Verl," Doren said.
Verl took Kendra's hand and kissed the back of it.
"Enchanted," he simpered in a smarmy voice, wearing a ridiculous half-grin. He had stubby horns and a childish face.
Doren punched Verl on the shoulder. "She's off limits, you blockhead! Caretaker's granddaughter."
"I could be your caretaker," Verl persisted, limply retaining her hand.
"Why don't you take a swim, Verl," Doren said, ushering him away several steps before returning. Kendra ignored Verl when he turned and winked at her, fluttering his fingers.
"Don't mind Verl," Doren told her. "He's a little intoxicated by all these nymphs trapped in the same space as him. They normally won't come within shouting distance. The guy makes a career out of striking out."
"I can't believe how many creatures are here," Seth said.
Kendra followed his gaze to where a group of shaggy, tawny, monkeylike creatures were leaping acrobatically along the top of a gazebo. Each seemed to have a few extra arms or legs.
"Not many safe places left," Doren said. "Even some of the nipsies found shelter here-the only ones who didn't go dark, not quite half a kingdom. They're erecting a village underneath one of the gazebos. They work fast."
"Who are those tall women over there?" Kendra asked.
"Those stately ladies are the dryads. Wood nymphs. More approachable than the water nymphs, but not nearly as lively as the hamadryads, who love to flirt."
"What are hamadryads?" Seth asked.
"Dryads are beings of the forest as a whole. Hamadryads are linked to individual trees. The hamadryads are the more spirited girls you see socializing with the satyrs among the pavilions."
"Can you introduce me to a centaur?" Seth asked.
"You'd have better luck introducing yourself," Doren replied sourly. "Centaurs are very self-important. They've adopted the notion that satyrs are frivolous. Apparently having a bit of fun on occasion renders us unfit for fellowship. But be my guest, go say hello, maybe you can join them in standing around glaring at everyone."
"Are those little people dwarfs?" Kendra asked.
"They're none too happy about being driven above ground. But any port in a storm. All sorts have sought shelter here. We even had a few brownies turn up, which can't bode well for you."
"We lost control of the house," Seth said. "Evil brownies snagged the register."
Doren shook his head sadly. "Some situations have a nasty way of going from bad to worse."
"Doren," Grandpa said, approaching from one side, "how are you holding up? I really am very sorry about Newel."
Grief flickered across Doren's features. "I'm getting by. He was a straw-brained, long-winded, skirt-chasing rascal, but he was my best pal. Sorry about your big islander friend."
"We need to get these tents set up," Grandpa announced. "Would you care to lend us a hand?"
Doren suddenly appeared uncomfortable. "Right, about that, I'd love to, but the thing is, it turns out I promised a few of the dwarfs I'd swing by to see how they're settling in." He started backing away. "You all mean much more to me than they do, but I can't let our special bond interfere with an ironclad commitment, especially when the little fellows are out of their element."
"Understandable," Grandpa said.
"We'll catch up more later, after you get the-um-after you get more settled." He turned and trotted away.
Grandpa brushed his hands together as if wiping off dust. "The most surefire way to part company with a satyr is to mention work."
"Why'd you scare him off?" Seth asked.
"Because satyrs can chatter for hours, and I need Kendra to join me on the pier."
"Now?" Kendra asked.
"There's no reason to delay."
"Let me guess," Seth said. "I'm not invited."
"Too many spectators may impede contact," Grandpa said. "You're welcome to assist Warren and Dale with the tents. Kendra, let's not forget that photograph of Patton."
Seth walked with Kendra and Grandpa toward the cart before veering away, hustling to join a line of dwarfs trooping by. None stood much taller than his waist. "How are you men doing?" he asked.
When they looked up, he saw that despite their sparse whiskers, they were all women. One of them spat at his feet. He hopped away from the loogie.
"Sorry, I'm nearsighted," Seth said.
The dwarfs continued on their way, paying him no further heed. Seth jogged toward the pond. Who wanted to set up tents when all these amazing creatures were corralled for his enjoyment? Besides, it would give Warren and Dale an occasion for brotherly bonding.
Seth was impressed by the quantity of satyrs. He had vaguely assumed Newel and Doren might be the only ones. But he counted at least fifty trouncing about, some older than others, some shirtless, others wearing vests, their fur ranging from black to brown to red to gold to gray to white.
The satyrs possessed boundless energy. They chased hamadryads, danced in clusters, wrestled, and played spontaneous acrobatic games. Although their boisterous antics were inviting, Seth's association with Newel and Doren had stripped away some of the satyrs' mystique. He was more curious to interact with the creatures he had never seen.