Free In Deep Dark Wood by Marita Conlon-Mckenna

mumbled.
    ‘I’m Gwenda, by the way.’
    ‘And I’m Mia.’
    ‘You’re Bella’s new apprentice! I’ve heard much about you, magician’s daughter.’
    ‘And you? Who are you?’
    ‘I told you already. My name is Gwenda, Gwenda Rowancroft. I am a dwelf.’
    ‘Dwelf?’
    ‘Part dwarf, part elf. You have heard tell of us, I presume!’
    Mia shook her head.
    Gwenda laughed in disbelief. ‘You have a lot to learn, young Mia.’
    At least Gwenda was kind and was prepared to help Mia. She spoke slowly and showed her every corner of the huge kitchen and how to use the cooking range.
    ‘You will settle in, child, don’t fear. Bella’s not as bad as she seems. I cried for the whole of the first year that I came to work here, and that was many moons ago. Once you keep the old sorceress happy and do not cross her, all will go well, I promise.’
    Gwenda kept Mia busy for the rest of the day and there was no sign of Bella till suppertime.
    Despite the delicious warming chicken stew and fresh bread she’d helped to make, Mia kept yawning at the table.
    ‘You’d best away to sleep, Mia child,’ suggested Bella. ‘We have an early start in the morning. The dragons themselves were tired today, but tomorrow morning we will begin training them.’
    Half-asleep, Mia made her way back to her small bedroom, wishing that she was not so alone and that Trig was there with her. She had barely undressed when she heard a scratching and snuffling outside her door, and opened it to find the young dragon there. Pushing past her, he made a swooping leap for the comfort of her bed.
    ‘Oh, Trig!’ she said, hugging him tight, and wondering whether it was Gwenda or Bella who had been kind enough to let the young dragon keep her company. Exhausted, she fell into bed, glad of the warm bundle cradled across her feet.
    She wondered how long the old woman intended to keep her in the castle, how long would she need her help. Feeling lonely and scared and homesick, she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 13
Giants’ Cave
    ‘A argh!’ shouted Rory, landing with a crashing thud on the rough ground, as the huge hound came to a sudden halt, catapulting him over its shoulder. He rolled over in the dirt, hoping the animal wouldn’t stand on him by accident with its huge paws. He sat, gulping air, trying to get his breath back, his ribs and side aching.
    Where was he? The early morning air was chilly and he shivered, trying not to be afraid. At least the grass beneath his fingers was green, and the sky was turning from a dusky grey to blue.
    ‘Where are we?’ he demanded. ‘Is my sister here, is that it?’
    The hound stood, nose twitching, watching as the yellow sun warmed the sky and light began to ripple out over the surrounding fields. The hound nosed at his arms and shoulder and he patted it absentmindedly as he would pat Jackie, his own dog.
    ‘Come on! You’ve brought me this far, show me where to go now!’
    The massive wolfhound stayed resolutely still as the sun rose high in the sky. He began to whine restlessly, then, without warning, he took off at a gallop into the distance, leaving Rory there all on his own.
    ‘Come back! Don’t leave me!’ Rory shouted uselessly.
    He waited and waited, but the hound did not return. Finally, he stood up and surveyed the vast landscape. He decided he had to move on. Looking about him, Rory wondered what part of the country he was in – he had never seen such rich farmland, each field was bursting with crops and vegetables. Corn and wheat and rye reached to his elbows and shoulders, enormous fronds of carrot-tops and cabbages and onions burst from the ground. He’d never seen anything like it. The soil must be unusually fertile to produce such huge crops. He was glad of his water bottle, slaking his thirst as the sun beat down, burning his fair skin.
    As he walked on he noticed a rusting rake flung into a potato patch. It looked strange, different, oversized. He passed field after field,