extradimensional space

[thaumobabble]

Here is a house.

It is pretty and trim and green-and-cream and really ought not to be able to hold itself up like that, and yet here it is, somehow defying the laws of architecture. It is surrounded by a neatly bordered garden of ornamental and useful plants of all sorts: here vegetables, there herbs, there spell components, there rows of flowers.

There is a sign out front. It says only: Magic. Not, Beware, Magic or Magic Emporium or anything like that. Just: Magic.

Sitting on top of this sign is a cream cat with smoke-dark points of color on each paw, his ears, and his face and tail.

All in all, you could be forgiven for thinking that a witch lives here.

Comments

[thaumobabble]

"Just checking," says Bella with a soft giggle. She puts her head back where it was, and she smiles, and she turns a page.

[allthebrightest]

Tony giggles, too.

[thaumobabble]

It's about an hour after lunch when they are next in a position to encounter somebody. The somebody is behind a tree over there and he's doing a very bad job of masking his sniffling.

[calendarofcrime]

Sherlock stops. Well before the sniffling would be audible to the rest of her party.

"Tony," she says quietly.

[allthebrightest]

Tony stops, too, a few steps behind Sherlock.

She doesn't say anything for a few seconds.

[thaumobabble]

"What?" murmurs Bella, tucking her book into her sleeve and picking her head up from Tony's shoulder.

[calendarofcrime]

"There is a... person," says Sherlock.

[thaumobabble]

"Another wizard, or just some other sort of person?"

[calendarofcrime]

"A child," says Sherlock.

[thaumobabble]

"By themselves?"

[calendarofcrime]

"Alone. Crying."

[thaumobabble]

"You want me to handle it? The window that does the lost tinkers' sons and so on does kids sometime, I can probably help him."

[calendarofcrime]

"Please do," says Sherlock.

[thaumobabble]

Bella extricates herself from Tony's arms with some reluctance and does not instantly tumble into a heap on the ground. "Where...?"

[calendarofcrime]

Sherlock leads her partway there, and points.

[thaumobabble]

Bella closes the distance.

Yep, that's a lonely crying little kid. "Hi, there," she murmurs. "Are you lost?"

He sniffs, he nods.

"Have you tried asking a squirrel for directions? Squirrels are very good at learning how the forest moves around."

"I -" sniff - "tried! But it wouldn't help me."

"What? Why? Where are you trying to go, where do your parents live? Maybe I can help you."

He shakes his head.

"...You wouldn't tell the squirrel where your parents are supposed to be?"

"No."

"Then of course they couldn't help, they need to know what to give directions to. Look, what's your name?"

"Calemar."

"Calemar, I want to help you get unlost, but I don't know where to unlose you to. Is it not your parents? Do you live with an aunt or an uncle or a grandparent or something and you got confused about the question?"

"No."

"...Are you not supposed to tell strangers where you live?"

"I'm not," sniffles Calemar.

[calendarofcrime]

"I can find it," says Sherlock.

[thaumobabble]

"Even if he doesn't tell you where he's supposed to be - nothing about it?" Bella asks quizzically.

[calendarofcrime]

"The forest knows."

[thaumobabble]

Calemar shakes his head vigorously.

"But Calemar, you don't have to tell her anything, she can just lead you straight to -"

"No! Not supposed to bring people! I have to find it by myself."

"How long have you been lost?"

"A - a couple days," sniffs Calemar.

"Are you hungry?"

He nods.

Bella unpacks a sandwich from her sleeve and hands it over. He bites into it without inquiry about its properties.

"So you're not just generally suspicious of strangers," Bella concludes.

Calemar doesn't answer. His mouth is full.

[calendarofcrime]

"I am going to find it anyway," Sherlock says quietly.

[thaumobabble]

"No!" exclaims Calemar around a mouthful. "No, strangers aren't supposed to."

"Why not?" Bella asks him.

"It's a secret."

[calendarofcrime]

"If it is not a secret from the trees," says Sherlock, "it is not a secret from me."

[thaumobabble]

"The trees?" says Calemar with deep suspicion, looking at the tree that he has been sitting under.

[calendarofcrime]

"The forest," she says. "Trees and air and light and water and moss and dirt and rock. All together, they know things, and they have no secrets from me."