The satyr shook his head, slitting his throat with a finger for emphasis. Seth slid a hand into a pocket. The satyr touched his wrist and shook his head with a scowl.
The ogress had already closed half the distance to the bush. You peoples like my stew so much, maybe you take a bath in it.
Kendra resisted the urge to bolt. The ogress would be on them in moments. But the satyr seemed to know what he was doing. He held up a hand, tacitly signaling for them to keep still.
Without warning, something began crashing through the bushes about twenty yards to their right. The ogress pivoted and stumbled toward the ruckus with a quick, awkward gait.
The satyr nodded. They scrambled out of the bush and started down the hill. Behind them, the ogress skidded to a halt and changed direction, coming after them. The goatman pitched the bucket of stew into a tangled patch of thorns and bounded over a fallen log. Kendra and Seth sprinted after him.
Propelled by her downward momentum, Kendra found herself taking larger steps than she wanted. Each time her foot touched the ground became a fresh opportunity to lose her balance and tumble forward. Seth stayed a couple of steps ahead of her, and the swift satyr was gradually increasing his lead.
Heedless of obstacles, the ogress pursued them noisily, trampling bushes and tearing through branches. She breathed in damp, wheezing gasps and cursed periodically, reverting to her unintelligible native tongue. Despite her cumbersome size and apparent exhaustion, the misshapen ogress was rapidly gaining.
Chapter Sixteen
The slope leveled out. Behind Kendra the ogress fell, branches and deadfalls snapping like fireworks. Kendra glanced back, catching a glimpse of the burly ogress surging to her feet.
The satyr led them into a shallow ravine, where they found the wide entrance to a dark tunnel. This way, he said, dashing into the tunnel. Although it looked spacious enough for the ogress to enter, Seth and Kendra followed without question. The satyr appeared confident, and he had been right so far.
The tunnel grew darker the deeper they ran. Heavy footsteps followed them. Kendra glanced back. The ogress filled the subterranean passageway, blocking out much of the light filtering in from the opening.
It became hard to see the satyr up ahead. The tunnel was growing narrower. Close behind Kendra, the ogress gasped and coughed. Hopefully she would have a heart attack and collapse.
For a space, the darkness became complete. Then it began to brighten. The tunnel continued to shrink. Soon Kendra had to crouch, and the walls were within reach at either side. The satyr slackened his pace, looking back with a mischievous grin. Kendra checked over her shoulder as well.
The panting ogress crawled and then scooted forward on her belly, wheezing and choking. When she could worm no farther, she roared in frustration, a strained, throaty cry.
After that it sounded like she vomited.
Up ahead the satyr was crawling. The passage slanted upward. They emerged through a small gap into a bowl-shaped depression. A second satyr stood waiting for them.
The second had redder hair than the first and slightly longer horns. He motioned for them to follow.
The two satyrs and two children charged recklessly through the woods for a few more minutes. When they arrived at a clearing with a tiny pond, the redheaded satyr stopped and faced the others.
What was the idea, ruining our operation? he asked.
Clumsy work, the other satyr agreed.
We didn't know, Kendra said. We thought it was a well.
You thought a chimney was a well? the redhead complained.
I suppose you sometimes mistake icicles for carrots?
Or wagons for outhouses?
It had a bucket, Seth said.
And it was in the ground, Kendra added.
They have a point, the other satyr said.
You were on the roof of the ogress's lair, explained the redhead.
We get it now, Seth said. We thought it was a hill.
Nothing wrong with pinching a bit of soup from her cauldron, the redhead continued. We try to be free with our assets. But you need to use some delicacy. A little finesse. At least wait until the old lady falls asleep. Who are you, anyhow?
Seth Sorenson.
Kendra.
I am Newel, said the redhead. This is Doren. You realize we'll probably have to construct a whole new rigging?
She'll rip the old one down, Doren explained.
Almost more work than cooking our own stew, Newel huffed.
We can't make it come out like she does, Doren mourned.
She has a gift, Newel agreed.
We're sorry, Kendra said. We were a little lost.
Doren waved a hand. Don't worry. We just like to bluster. If you spoiled our wine, that would be another story.
Still, Newel said, a guy has to eat, and free stew is free stew.
We'll try to find a way to repay you, Kendra said.
So will we, Newel said.
You don't happen to have any... batteries? Doren asked.
Batteries? Seth asked, wrinkling his nose.
Size C, Newel clarified.
Kendra folded her arms. Why do you want batteries?
They're shiny, Newel said, nudging Doren with an elbow.
We worship them, Doren said, nodding sagely. They seem like little gods to us.
The kids stared at the goatmen in disbelief, unsure how to continue the conversation. They were obviously lying.
Okay, Newel said. We have a portable television.
Don't tell Stan.
We had a mountain of batteries, but we ran out.
And our supplier is no longer employed here.
We could work out an arrangement. Newel spread his hands diplomatically. Some batteries to repent for disrupting our stew siphoning- Then we can trade for more. Gold, booze, you name it. Doren lowered his voice slightly. Of course, we would need to keep our arrangement private.
Stan doesn't like us watching the tube, said Newel.
You know our Grandpa? Seth asked.
Who doesn't? Newel said.
You haven't seen him lately? Kendra asked.
Sure, just last week, Doren said.
I mean since last night.
No, why? Newel said.
Haven't you heard? Seth asked.
The satyrs shrugged at each other. What's the news?
Newel asked.
Our Grandpa was kidnapped last night, Kendra said.
Your grandfather is a kid? Newel said.
They mean he was abducted, Doren clarified.
Kendra nodded. Creatures got into the house and took him and our housekeeper.
Not Dale? Doren asked.
We don't think so, Seth said.
Newel shook his head. Poor Dale. Never been very popular.
Lousy sense of humor, Doren agreed. Too quiet.
You guys don't know who might have taken them?
Kendra asked.
On Midsummer Eve? Newel said, tossing up his hands. Anybody. Your guess would be better than mine.
Could you help us find him? Seth asked.
The satyrs shared an uneasy glance. Yeah, ouch, Newel began uncomfortably, this is a bad week for us.