Stay here, said Seth. I'll go check it out.
I don't want to stay alone.
Then follow me, but stay back a bit. We don't want to both get caught at the same time. Keep salt ready.
Kendra did not need that reminder. Her only worry about the salt was that her sweaty hands were going to turn it to paste.
Seth crept ahead, staying low, using the bushes for cover, gradually making his way toward the meager line of smoke. Kendra imitated his movements, impressed that his hours of playing army were finally paying off. Even as she followed him, she struggled to come to terms with what they were doing. Sneaking up on a monster cookout was among the activities she could do without. Shouldn't they be sneaking away?
The trembling shaft of smoke grew nearer. Seth waved her up to him. She huddled beside him behind a wide bush twice her height, trying to breathe quietly. He put his lips to her ear. I'll be able to see what's going on when I get around this bush. I'll try to yell if I get captured or anything.
Be ready.
She put her mouth to his ear. If you play a trick on me, I promise I will kill you, I really will.
I won't. I'm scared too.
He slunk forward. Kendra tried to calm herself. Waiting was torture. She considered moving around the bush to take a peek, but could not muster the courage. The silence was good, right? Unless they had stealthily dropped Seth with a poison dart.
The pause stretched mercilessly. Then she heard Seth coming back less carefully than he had left. When he came around the bush, he was walking upright, saying, Come here, you have to see this.
What is it?
Nothing scary.
She went around the bush with him, still tense. Up ahead, in a clear area near the summit of the hill, she saw the source of the thin smoke-a waist-high cylinder of stone with a wooden windlass and a dangling bucket. A well?
Yeah. Come smell.
They walked to the well. Even up close, the rising smoke remained vapory and indistinct. Kendra leaned over, staring down into the deep darkness. Smells good.
Like soup, Seth said. Meat, veggies, spices.
Am I just hungry? It smells delicious.
I think so too. Should we try some?
Lower the bucket? Kendra asked skeptically.
Why not? Seth replied.
There could be creatures down there.
I don't think so, he said.
You think it's just a well full of stew, Kendra scoffed.
We are on a magical preserve.
As far as we know it could be poisonous.
It can't hurt to take a look, Seth insisted. I'm starving.
Besides, not everything here is bad. I bet this is where fairy people come for dinner. See, it even has a crank. He began turning the windlass, spooling the bucket down into the darkness.
I'm staying on lookout, said Kendra.
Good idea.
Kendra felt exposed. They were far enough from the summit that she could not see anything on the far side of the hill, but they were high enough that she commanded an expansive view of trees and terrain when she looked down the slope. With little cover surrounding the well, she worried that unseen eyes might be spying from the foliage below.
Seth continued unwinding the rope, sending the bucket ever deeper. Eventually he heard it wetly hit bottom.
The rope slackened a bit. After a moment he began winding the bucket back up.
Hurry, Kendra said.
I am. This thing is deep.
I'm worried everything in the forest can see us.
Here it comes. He stopped cranking and pulled the bucket up the last few feet by hand, setting it on the lip of the well.
Kendra joined him. Inside the wooden bucket, bits of meat, cut carrots, potato fragments, and onion floated in a fragrant yellow broth. Looks like a normal stew, Kendra said.
Better than normal. I'm trying some.
Don't! she warned.
Lighten up. He tweezed out a piece of dripping meat and tried it. Good! he announced. He plucked out a potato and offered a similar report. Tipping the bucket, he slurped some of the broth. Amazing! he said. You have to try it.
From behind the same bush they had used as their final hiding place when approaching the well, a creature emerged. From the waist up, he was a shirtless man with an exceptionally hairy chest and a pair of pointy horns above his forehead. From waist down he had the legs of a shaggy goat. Wielding a knife, the satyr charged straight at them.
Both Kendra and Seth turned in alarm at the sound of his hooves racing up the slope. Salt, Seth blurted, dipping into his pockets.
As she fumbled for salt, Kendra dashed around the well, placing it between herself and the attacker. Not Seth. He stood his ground, and when the satyr was a couple of steps away, he flung a fistful of salt at the goatman.
The satyr stopped short, obviously surprised by the cloud of salt. Seth threw a second handful, groping in his pockets for more. The salt failed to spark or sizzle. Instead, the satyr appeared bewildered.
What are you doing? he asked in a hushed tone.
I could ask you the same question, Seth replied.
No you can't. You're spoiling our operation. The satyr lunged past Seth and slashed the rope with his knife. She's coming.
Who?
I'd save the questions for later, the satyr said. He wound the rope until it was tight around the windlass, seized the bucket, and started down the hill, spilling soup as he went. From the far side of the hill, Kendra heard foliage rustling and branches crunching. She and Seth followed the satyr.
The satyr slid into the bush Kendra had crouched behind earlier. Kendra and Seth dove in alongside him.
An instant after they ducked out of sight, a bulky, hideous woman lumbered into view and approached the well. She had a broad, flat face with saggy earlobes that hung almost to her hefty shoulders. Her misshapen bosom drooped inside a coarse, homespun tunic. Her avocado skin had a ridged texture like corduroy, her graying hair was shaggy and matted, and her build bordered on obese. The well barely came to her knees, making her considerably taller than Hugo. She waddled from side to side as she walked, and she was breathing heavily through her mouth.
Bending over, she pawed at the well, stroking the wooden frame. The ogress can't see much, the satyr whispered.
When he said it, the ogress jerked her head up. She yammered something in a guttural language. Shambling a couple of steps away from the well, she squatted down and sniffed at the ground where Seth had thrown his salt.
There been peoples here, she accused in a husky, accented voice. Where you peoples be?
The satyr placed a finger against his lips. Kendra held perfectly still, trying to breathe softly despite her alarm.
She tried to plan which direction she would run.
The ogress lumbered down the slope toward their hiding place, sniffing high and low. I heared peoples. I smelled peoples. And I smell my stew. Peoples been at my stew again. You come out now to apologize.