Writing 2014-04-23

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Larrikan squeaks through his history class, saved by some extra credit for an oral report.  The lifelong performer has no problem getting up in front of a class to tell a story.  He finally figured out how to remember the mostly human names, too.

His mathematics class was something of a struggle, too, but no more than most of the other students seemed to be having.  The professor’s threats about the next class’ unstable maths worry him, but he decides he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

The magic course continues to be wonderful and his success there makes the rest of these struggles worth it.  He simply loves magic.

The mid-spring rade turns into a bloody fight.  Larrikan had played for a while and was in the crowd, dancing to collect the moon’s silvery power, when a pixie zoomed over and landed on his shoulder.  This startled the slyph who was dancing with him, and she backed off warily.

The pixie grabs Larrikan’s whiskers and pulls on them.  He says, “Ow!  Hey!”

“Come on!” demands the pixie, “Move!”  It tries – and largely succeeds – to pull Larrikan off the dance floor by his face.

Three other pixies are circling over his violin, buzzing with energy.  They shout, “Go!” at him.

Larrikan manages to get the handle of his violin case as he is dragged by.  All four pixies pull and push at him, urging him away.

“Path!” shout pixies, “Make path!” and “Sing path!” all while urging Larrikan towards the edge of the magical rade island.

Larrikan realizes all the pixies are with him, and is suddenly afraid.  And not of the pixies, although some of the other fey are looking upset by so many being so active.

Pulling out his recorder, Larrikan begins to play the reversed summoning song, to create the path home.  As soon as it begins to show, the pixie crowd on to it, en masse.  Larrikan is not far behind.

Larrikan is just starting up the gentle incline over the lake when he hears screaming on the island.  He stops to look, but is virtually attacked by pixies who screech, “No!” and “Move!” and “Play!” and “Run!”

So encouraged, Larrikan does keep playing, and does move.  He walks over the lake on his glowing path of light.  As soon as Larrikan is on solid ground again, and all the pixies are over land, a wedge of them flies at him, knocks him to the ground, and throws his recorder a dozen feet onto the beach ahead.

There is a great splash as something nebulous and black falls into the water after the path vanishes.

Larrikan picks himself and his recorder up, and looks at the island.  Fae flee a murky black monster, all teeth and claws, dying by those teeth and claws.

“Jabberwock,” one of the pixies says, “Bad.”

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