Free Woodlock by Steve Shilstone

woven, not sloppy like…like her future daughter’s...like Rindle Mer’s. So such if… Oh, a pocket! Empty… But see how the material is stretched, Kar, so such that its seeming habit is to hold…something round. Of course the orb. She has it with her out there somewhere, close by, maybe.
    That particular tumble of thought brought me to pluck my chonka from my belt and sing out a likely tune. I hoped to lure the woodlock near. I paced around about in the clearing while gazing into the surrounding Woods for a glimpse of green sparkles or a flash of gray. The conclusion of my song was answered by silence. I returned to the mouth of the cave and risked entering it.
    Not very deep. It’s a single room like a thorn bowl turned over. Cosy. And such a carpet! The weave must be roamer! Has to be! Kar, a roamer carpet! Roamers are numerous back in this when. Of course they are! How I would like to meet one! I would… But settle, Bekka. You have a task. The woodlock. The orb. Something.
    I decided to hide. The woodlock was shy, I reasoned. She herself would hide if she saw me clumping around her cave and singing like a lackwit. She probably WAS hiding. I decided to pretend to leave. I loudly announced my intention.
    â€œThe woodlock is not here. I’ll just have to search elsewhere. Too bad, though, about her daughter-to-be,” I said.
    I marched up the stone steps next to the cave and wandered by pink tufts and gray-limbed trees and bushy greenery of various hues. After several paces, I dove with bendo dreen skill into a hedge. I burrowed to nest, placed my chonka there, and slithered quietly to a position where between a leafy fork of branches I commanded a partial view of the clearing and a full view of the tunic hanging from the cord.
    This is perfect, I thought. I’ll wait and watch. She’ll be back. She will, Kar, she will. She’ll bring her orb. I’ll snatch it from her after dark. Then… Then something will happen because I’m on the proper path. I’m on the proper path, Kar. I’m on it!
    I dozed and snapped awake off and on throughout the day. The tunic hung from the gold cord. The woodlock did not appear. No green sparkles. No flash of gray. Dusk. Night. I waited. As darkness descended, the clearing became dimly illuminated by a shadow of blue light. Though I couldn’t see it, I decided that the lantern on the pink marble slab table glowed magically so such and supplied the light.
    Good fortune, I thought. I can still see the tunic and the mouth of the cave.
    The tunic shimmered a dance in front of my glassy stare. I shook my head. Awake! I had to stay awake. The tunic shimmered. My eyelids fell, and when next I had a thought, it was morning. Bleary of brain, I blinked my eyes. The gold cord stretched from tree to tree across the mouth of the cave. The tunic was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
    And Wait
    I crashed out of the hedge and cursed my lackwit self with wagging tongue and a stampy sort of dance. I imagined Kar laughing at me. So such made me settle to brooding. What to do?
    â€œShendra Nenas, am I still on the proper path?” I shouted.
    Receiving no sign of an answer, I wriggled back into the hedge and retrieved my chonka. Attaching it to my belt, I freed myself from the hedge and hurried to the woodlock’s clearing. The lantern perched in its place on the pink slab table. The washing tub sat by so such the same. The cave was empty, so such except for the finely woven red carpet on its floor. The gold cord line, which I touched, hung slightly slack from tree limb to tree limb. No tunic hung from it. No tunic.
    â€œDelia Branch!” I called out, and recklessly added, “I’m from the future! I’m here to help you and Riffle Sike! Your daughter! I know who she will be!”
    No response.
    â€Shendra Nenas!”
    No response.
    â€œI’ll…I’ll… Kar, what would you do?”
    Strangely, oddly, my jark