"Unwanted Magic" 4

Joey listened intently to the bird’s singing in the tree and began to hum the tune along with them trying to remember the words.

Joey’s dad picked up on the familiar tune and began to absently sing the words.

“Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream,

merrily, merrily, merrily merrily,

life is but a dream.”

“That’s it!” Joey exclaimed, dropping his fork full of pancake onto his plate. “We have to find a stream and follow it down,” he said excitedly.

“What are you talking about?” His mom asked him.

“It’s the first clue on the map,” Joey placed the map on the table for his parents to see it too and pointed to the spot. “See, we’re under this tree on the map.”

Sure enough there was a sketch of a flowering tree with a picnic table under it and birds were sketched on the branches above with music notes drawn around them.

“You’re right son,” the dad nodded and listened to the last strains of the bird’s singing, “And the birds are twittering ‘Row Your Boat’.”

“Are you saying we have to row a boat?” The mom asked, not liking the idea at all. She couldn’t swim and didn’t like lakes, or stream, or oceans. Now a swimming pool, she might consider rowing in that.

Jack knew of his wife’s fear and sent her a sympathetic look. “I’m not sure we have to actually row a boat Jane; maybe we just need to find the stream and walk along the banks of it.”

“Well, that I wouldn’t mind at all,” she said with a smile of relief.

 “Dad, I don’t see a stream on the map; do you?” Joey asked.

Jack looked at the map and he didn’t see a stream either. He turned and looked at the big dog sleeping on the grass and whistled to wake him up.

“Hey, sleeping dog, where’s the stream?”

Flint had finished his meal and was lying in a patch of sunlight trying not to let the family’s conversation disturb his respite, but now it had. He opened his sharp, blue eyes and looked at the kid-sized dad with annoyance.

“If I had to make a suggestion; I’d follow those birds flying off the branches; they’re probably heading to that stream right now.”

Jack, Jane and their son Joey looked up at once. Sure enough, the birds were flying off the tree in a straight line formation, almost like an arrow.

The dad and mom grabbed their large, refilling coffee cups off the table and Joey picked up his smaller, refilling juice cup as they raced back to the tandem bicycle and wagon, while keeping an eye on the direction the birds were flying in.

“Aren’t you coming?” The dad looked back at the dog, lazily stretching its big dog body.

“Give me a second,” Flint said with a woof-groan, shaking his unfamiliar, canine muscles awake and questioning his choice of form.  

Joey noticed the birds had begun to dive downward, still in that strange single line. “I think the stream is somewhere over there,” he said pointing to the descending birds before he looked back at the map to see if he was right. Sure enough, there was a stream now drawn on it.

“Look dad; the stream is here!” He said with excitement.

His dad looked at the map and nodded. “I see it,” he said, as he struggled to place his foot on the high pedal of the bike, and refused to let his wife give him a hand up.

The mom waited on the front seat of the bicycle until the dad finally, and stubbornly, managed to climb up on the second seat after he'd refused to allow her to lift him up.

Joey scooted into the large, well padded wagon and waited for Flint to jump in next to him. When he did, he turned around in a circle two times before he flopped his big, dog body down and resumed his nap.

“Let’s be off,” Flint command-woofed to the parents with his eyes firmly closed.

 

The dad huffed and puffed double pumping his little legs to keep up with his wife’s peddling and blamed Flint for his discomfort. “That dog could have given us a motorized bike,” he grumbled under his breath.

“You didn’t specify modes of transportation before the adventure began,” Flint responded from the wagon in a sarcastic woof-growl, still without opening his eyes.

Jack’s expression darkened. “You didn’t give us any time to make any rules!” But his accusation was met by a loud snore from the dog in the wagon.

 

The ground under the thin bicycle tires turned from a well worn dirt path into one with cobblestones. The jittery ride was most uncomfortable to the riders, even the occupants in the wagon felt every bump of it. Flint opened his eyes and growled his displeasure; he could no longer nap in peace.

“Are we going the right way?” The mom called out from her front seat, “I’m not seeing a stream anywhere.”

Joey looked down at the map and noted the stream should be just ahead of them. “I think we’ll see it soon,” he told his mom.

The thick foliage around the path began to thin out and they all did see the stream in the distance.

The mom and dad peddled faster, getting closer to its banks before they rolled the bike to a full stop.

“Now which way do we go?” The dad asked, looking up and down the stream.

“I should think that will be determined by the next solved clue,” Flint informed him with a big dog yawn and another canine body stretch as he woke up.

Since Flint took up most of the wagon, Joey had to shift to the edge of it to accommodate him but he didn’t mind; he just placed the map down on the dog’s haunches to look it over. He saw a wooden foot bridge that had suddenly appeared on the map. It was drawn over the stream.

“We have to find a bridge that goes over the stream,” he told his parents.

“And where is that supposed to be?” His dad asked.

Joey studied the map then looked around before directing them. “In that direction, downstream.” He said and pointed the way forward. His mom and dad began to peddle again.

They passed through several patches of thorny bushes that threatened to scratch their hands and arms before the narrow bridge came into view, but the sight wasn’t comforting. There was a giant ogre sitting at the foot of that bridge with a typical, giant ogre club in his hand. They skidded to a stop several feet from the ogre.

“Who wishes to cross my bridge?” The ogre asked in a booming, ogre voice.

“No one,” the dad mumbled under his breath and tried to back pedal to no avail. His wife was frozen in fear and her feet had slipped off the pedals and were stuck to the ground like lead.

The ogre laughed and began to slap the bat into his other hand. He enjoyed seeing the fear on their faces. “I love company…come closer puny humans,” he said eyeing the family until he noticed the dog in the wagon. He gave out a guffaw of true laughter. “Is that you Flint? I always knew you’d go to the dogs.” 

“Funny Mudstitch and why are you here? I thought you’d be in the Primordial Adventure?”

“Nah, they didn’t need an ogre and those dinosaurs were pains in the-”

“Hey, hey watch your language!” The mom scolded, interrupting the ogre’s response.

“Uh, sorry ma’am,” the ogre mumbled and had the grace to look ashamed but in the next instant he resumed his threatening look. “Now, why are you here?” He asked in his booming voice and his eyes glowed with an angry green light.

“We’re following the map to Erifsnogard,” Joey bravely told the ogre.

The ogre gave the boy's response a big, belly laugh. “You puny humans expect to find your way to Erifsnogard?”

“Yes,” Joey answered bravely, but his voice may have become a shade quieter.

The ogre looked over at the dog and shook his head.“Flint, I’m surprised you’d grant anyone this wishful an adventure; you aren’t smart enough to lead them to Erifsnogard,” The ogre teased then laughed and added, “I remember when you could barely sail a child home on an iceberg.”

“Hey; I was that child,” Jack defended with indignation, “And I’m right here...I made it off that iceberg.”

The ogre’s eyes focused on the tiny man and he bit his lip to contain his rekindled mirth. “And it seems you’ve survived that disastrous adventure but dare I say it; the iceberg must have shrunken your stature.” Then he un-bit his lip and pealed with loud, unhindered laughter.

“Mudstitch! Enough of your sarcastic wit; Now give us your childish puzzle so we can solve it and be on our way,” Flint demanded.

“Childish is it? We shall see.” The ogre gave the dog an ominous frown as he continued to slap the bat in his hand. Then he eyed the family and asked, “Tell me…what clings precariously to life only to be torn and twisted away and cast downward to die in but a season?”

“Can we ask questions?” The dad inquired of the large, angry looking ogre.

“Ah, if it isn’t the iceberg lad,” the Ogre focused on the dad then boomed loudly, “No questions! You have one minute to answer!”

The mom looked at the dad and shrugged. “I have no idea but if it only lives in a season could it be some kind of an insect, like a butterfly?”

“Yes, it could be an insect but I’m not sure of a caterpillar or a butterfly because of the part where it falls down to the ground. After a caterpillar morphs into a butterfly, it flies.”

“Right; it isn’t a butterfly…so what do you think it could be?”

“Maybe a ladybug or mayfly; they have short lives but I’m not sure that’s it either?” The dad scratched his head trying to decipher the riddle.

While the mom and dad conferred on what insect it could be, little Joey thought about the riddle too. He looked around and noticed a leave falling from a tree and his eyes went wide with inspiration.

“It’s a leaf!” he yelled out, “Because a leaf clings to a tree and when the season changes, its torn from the tree and it twists in the wind and falls to the ground!”

The Ogre shot a surprised look at the boy and grumbled, “The small one is correct and I hate to say it, but all of you may now pass.” The ogre commanded and gave them a small nod before he disappeared.

Flint puffed up his canine chest and gave the boy a proud nod.

“This is why adventures are for children and not adults; children can still see the simplicity of life while adults make things too complicated.”

The dad frowned at Flint and queried. “Where was the simplicity in my adventure?”

Flint woof-grumbled, “Start peddling; we need to cross that bridge.”