Dragon bent down and gawped at the small human who called herself Marisol. The child showed no fear of the behemoth; in fact, when the befuddled beast turned blue, and smoke bubbles started dripping from her nose, the little girl giggled.
“Marisol! Mind your manners!” Bastina hurried over to her daughter and took her by the hand.
“But, mommy, the dragon is dribbling bubbles from her nose!”
Bastina blushed scarlet. “I am so sorry. My daughter has an extremely vivid imagination and has not yet learned to hold her tongue.”
Dragon tilted her head, giving me a confused look, and I raised an eyebrow before turning to the woman and child. “Hello! There’s no need to apologize. My name is Marge, and these are some out-of-town relatives who are visiting.” I tried hard to remember the names my characters had previously used in public, but I ended up just waving my hand in their general direction and foregoing the individual introductions.
“Hello! As my daughter already told you, my name is Bastina, and this is Marisol. We live on the next street over. I’m so sorry we invaded your yard this way.”
“No problem.” I gave her and the child my best welcoming smile. “Always glad to meet one of our neighbors.”
“I believe we have met before, actually.” Bastina peered at me thoughtfully. “It was over a year ago, but I’m sure it was you. I have a pretty good memory for faces. You and one of your relatives were making some purchases at the herbal shop my sister and I operate. It’s the one at the organic farm she and her husband own at the edge of town. I was waiting on customers that day, and I rang up your order.”
I furrowed my brow, trying to remember.
Cleric walked over and joined the conversation. “I remember.” She turned to me. “You drove me to the farm so I could procure some herbs when the rest of our . . . relatives . . . came down with that serious malady.” https://margecutter.wordpress.com/2018/04/15/what-next/
“Of course! I remember now!” I turned to Bastina. “You really do have a great memory for faces. That was ages ago!”
“Your shop is very impressive!” Cleric smiled at Bastina.
“Thanks! Danica and I try to provide a variety of hard-to-find herbs and botanicals along with the more common ones. We persuaded her husband to let us open the shop there.”
“Is your brother-in-law an herbalist, too?”
Bastina shook her head. “No, just my sister and I. Robert grows organic vegetables, but he has turned over about ten acres to me and Danica for our herbs.”
Marisol giggled again. “Mommy uses lots of herbs. She’s always brewing something with them. She’s a witch.”
Bastina’s eyes flew wide and her jaw dropped. “Oh, baby! Why would you say such a thing?”
Marisol’s sunny countenance turned stormy in a flash. “Mommy, I have told you and told you – I’m not a baby anymore. I’m five years old, and you said yourself that’s practically grown up! And you are a witch. So am I.”
Bastina blushed again. “As I said, she has a wild imagination.”
“I really do.” The little girl nodded somberly, then broke into a wide smile.
“How precious.” While we had been talking, Dragon had slipped away unnoticed. Now, returned in her accustomed guise of an elf maiden, she studied the small human. Dragon tilted her head and stroked her chin as if trying to figure something out.
Marisol stared at her. “You look better with red scales than blue.”
“Scales?” Dragon lifted a delicate eyebrow at the child. “I have scales?”
“Well, not anymore.” Marisol giggled and started to say something else, but her mother grabbed her by the hand again.
“Marisol! Your manners, child!”
“I’m sorry.” The half-frown, half-pout on her little face belied Marisol’s apology. “Mommy, can I go pet the horses now?” She pointed at the three illusory horses milling about in front of an equally illusory barn.
“Horses?” Bastina looked where her daughter was pointing and frowned. “There are no horses.” The woman looked at us again, rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know where she gets such an imagination!”
“But I am not imagining the horses. They’re beautiful! One is a big, powerful-looking horse, the color of ob . . . ob . . .”
“Obsidian?” Bastina prompted her daughter.
“Yes, obsidian. Thank you, mommy. I think he may be a Fr . . . Free . . .”
“Friesian?” Bastina suggested.
Marisol nodded. “The second horse, a black-and-white pinto, looks like a Gypsy Vanner with long, feathery hair on its legs. And the third one is a small, saucy-looking chocolate palomino pony.”
I shot Dragon a look of alarm, then stooped down to be eye-level with the little girl. “Well, you have quite the vocabulary for a five-year-old! Not many children your age would know the word obsidian. And you certainly know your horses!”
The little girl beamed. “Mommy and I read all the time. I like to learn new words. And I love horses! Mommy gave me a picture book of different types of horses. I can recognize Palominos, Appel-loosas, Arabians, Pintos, Free . . . Free. . .”
“Friesians.” Bastina supplied the word again.
“Yes, and Gypsy Vanners. Horses are my favorite animals! Well, them and dragons.” Marisol giggled and gave Dragon a knowing look before turning back toward the horses. “Horses are so graceful. And fast! Faster than the rabbit the short man in the funny metal suit was chasing.” The child frowned up at her mother. “I hope you aren’t going to say that was my imagination, too, mommy! I know you saw the man and the bunny!” https://margecutter.wordpress.com/2019/07/07/hello-neighbor/
Bastina furrowed her brow. “Well, I saw something. It looked like someone chasing an animal. It appeared to be a small dog or a cat, but I suppose it might have been a rabbit.”
“It was a bunny, mommy!” Marisol frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “And the man who was chasing it was short and fat and he wore a metal suit.”
“Marisol!” Her mother looked equal parts shocked and embarrassed. “You do not refer to someone as fat. That is rude!”
“Eh, do na fret, lass.” My Old Dwarf chuckled as he walked over to Bastina and her daughter. “Tha wee lassie be right. I do be a mite fluffy aroon’ me girth.”
Marisol smiled at the dwarf. “And your suit is made of metal, isn’t it?” Marisol reached out and touched the armor on the dwarf’s shoulder.
“Aye, lassie, it be a type o plate mail armor. It be protectin’ me, but still be lettin’ me be movin’ aboot free and un-en-cum-burred like.”
“And you were chasing a bunny?”
“Aye! Tha durn varmint been inta tha carrot patch agin, so’s I been chasin’ it . . . ’till it been suddenly growin’. It been gittin’ taller ’en me! An’ then it been turning aboot an’ been chasin’ me!”
Marisol laughed. “Silly! Rabbits don’t grow that big, and they don’t chase people, not even short people!”
“Marisol!” Bastina scowled.
“I’m sorry, mommy! But he is silly. And he is short.”
“I apologize for my daughter.” Bastina took the little girl by the hand. “She is usually much better behaved! I think she needs a nap. It was so nice to meet you all.”
“Mommy, naps are for babies.” Marisol pouted.
“Naps are also for young ladies who have forgotten their manners.” Bastina’s tone of voice invited no further discussion.
“Okay.” Marisol scuffed her foot back and forth in the dirt. “Can I come back later and pet the horses?”
“Baby, there are no horses.” Bastina sighed.
Marisol turned to me and pointed toward the back of the yard. “There are horses over there in front of that barn, aren’t there? Three horses, just like I said before?”
I swallowed hard, not knowing how to answer. Dragon saved me.
“Do you believe there are horses there?” She knelt down to speak with the child.
Marisol nodded.
“Then there must be.” Dragon leaned closer to Marisol and lowered her voice. “And do you believe that I am a dragon, and I could gobble you up?” A puff of smoke drifted from Dragon’s delicate elfin nose.
Marisol giggled. “No, you’re not a bad dragon. You don’t eat people.” She threw her arms around Dragon’s neck and whispered in her ear. “And I still think you look prettier with red scales, not blue.”
Startled, Dragon shape-shifted back to her true form.
Bastina gasped and her eyes widened, but in an instant, her expression returned to a frown directed at her daughter. The change was so quick, I wondered if I had imagined her initial reaction.
“See mommy?” Marisol crowed. “I told you she’s a dragon.”
Bastina took Marisol’s hand. “Child, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you! Such an imagination!” But the woman glanced nervously at Dragon as she exchanged farewells with us and led her daughter away.
My characters and I stood, gaping, as the woman and child walked down the side yard and turned toward their home. After a stunned few seconds, we all started talking at once.
What is going on? Is Marisol really a witch? What about her mother? Why would the woman pretend not to see things she obviously sees? Have we seen the last of mother and daughter? Be sure to come back and find out. We’ll leave the porch light on for you.
Marisol sat on a blanket on the front lawn while her mother tended the garden. The little girl wrinkled her nose as her mother turned over the rich, black soil. She furrowed her brow and tilted her head as her mother pulled out some plants and discarded them, and placed fertilizer around others. After a while, she lost interest in her mother’s activity, and turned to her pile of picture books.
The little girl’s mother smiled indulgently at her daughter. “Oh, yes, I forgot. You’re a whole five years old now, not a baby at all! In fact, you’re practically grown up! So, perhaps you would be so kind as to finish weeding that flower bed for me while I relax?”
A dwarf in full plate armor was clomping down the street. He was cussing a blue streak and brandishing an axe at a large rabbit that appeared to be enjoying the chase. Several times, the long-eared critter slowed down and looked over its shoulder, almost appearing to wait for the rotund figure puffing and panting after it.
I was lounging in the gazebo, reading a book. Sorceress, Cleric, and Dragon sat nearby, watching my Foreman and the lads work their illusory horses. I glanced up as my Old Dwarf raced past us, brandishing an axe, chasing a rabbit through the yard. “I be gittin’ ye this time, ye ornery little beastie, ye jest be seein’ iffin I do na! Thet be the lastest time ye be getting’ in Mistress Writer’s carrot patch!” The rabbit seemed to be enjoying the chase, slowing up whenever it seemed the dwarf might be lagging too far behind.
“Yes. Do it immediately!” Dragon turned toward the elf and smoke spewed from her snout.
The little girl walked right up to Dragon and gave her an appraising head-to-toe look. “I am Marisol.” She pointed to the young woman. “And that is my mother. Her friends call her Bastina, but I call her mommy. We live down the street. What’s your name? Do you live here?”
“Hey, guess what?” I burst into the kitchen where Miles was preparing lunch.
“Nice try, but no.” My smile stretched a little further. “I just got an e-mail from my cousin Debi. She wants to know if she and her grandkids can come for a visit this fall!”
“Wot be ye thinkin’ aboot?” My Old Dwarf marched into the kitchen and scooted over to the stove. He sniffed at the soup Miles was preparing. “Mmmmmmmmm. Creamy wild rice soup! Do ye be rememberin’ tha carrots an’ tha corn?” He picked up the pepper mill.
Miles gaped at me. “Yes, we have taken them out in public. But know how to behave? I think not! I can remember once you had to all but drag them on a walk with you so you could keep an eye on them because as soon as your back was turned, your Old Dwarf, your Bounty Hunter, and your Arrogant One were back in their medieval apparel, weapons drawn, ready to engage in a melee. Your Foreman, your Gypsy, and your Young Hero were also in their traditional attire, astride their horses, preparing to joust.” 
I started to sputter that Dragon had cast a spell of concealment on them, but Miles held up his hand. “And you are correct, our neighbors have seen them. As have the local sheriff’s deputies. Or do I need to remind you of the incident in the park after you allowed your characters to join the neighborhood festivities?” 
“Are you sure?” The dragon frowned at her diminutive companion.
“Eh, I be knowin’ wot I been hearin’.” The dwarf thumped his armored chest for emphasis. “When I firs’ been goin’ ta tha kitchen ta be checkin’ on tha vittles, tha lass an’ ’er mister been sayin’ they be needin’ ta be thinkin’ on summat. So’s when I been leavin’ I been sneakin’ back ta be findin’ oot jes wot they be havin’ ta be thinkin’ aboot.”
The young hero swallowed hard. “Do you think it is the same woman?”
“So, we are in the clear with Mistress Writer, as long as we never let her know her cousin may have been here once. But this cousin Debi, if she is the one who was here, must not know.” The dragon was adamant on that point.
“Something bothering you guys?” I furrowed my brow in concern.
I hung up the phone and hurried out of my office. I went upstairs and stepped through the French doors onto the deck. I squinted and raised a hand to shield my eyes from the bright sun as I scanned the yard. I saw my Foreman, my Young Hero, and my Gypsy exercising their illusory horses, performing complicated maneuvers similar to those my Foreman would have used when he was a commander in the elite King’s Guard in his own world.
I looked around the rest of the yard, but didn’t see any of my other characters, so I went back inside. I headed for the kitchen, figuring it was the best place to look for at least one of my characters. Sure enough, my Old Dwarf didn’t disappoint. There he was, rummaging through the refrigerator, looking for a wee snack as he termed the full ham and the two loaves of bread he was appropriating.
The dwarf swallowed his half-chewed food, almost choking, then washed it down with a full can of soda. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and began again. “I be sayin’ thet yer mister been tookin’ ’is car inta tha place wot be fixin’ it.”
When we were all assembled for lunch, I was eager to share some news, but everyone was chattering away. Miles was telling me what repairs the mechanic had made to the car that morning; my Foreman and the lads were discussing equestrian maneuvers; Cleric, Sorceress, and Dragon were cataloging the botanicals and spell components they had collected; and my Arrogant One was crowing to my bored Bounty Hunter about the beautiful photos he had taken in the front yard. Only my Old Dwarf remained unconcerned about the conversations around him, digging into his lunch as if it had been days rather than minutes since his last meal.
When it looked like everyone was finished, I cleared my throat and announced. “I had a phone call from Anna, if anyone’s interested.”
“From Anna? Of course, we’re interested!” My Gypsy’s eyes widened with interest.
“Anna called? Oh, I hope there is good news!” Cleric leaned forward to hear.
I sighed and raked my hand through my hair as I tried to think of a way to explain microchipping to a group of medieval characters. “Well, a microchip is an electronic device about the size of a grain of rice. It is like a computer chip in that it contains information that can be used to identify an animal in case the animal is lost or stolen. The microchip is implanted in an equine’s nuchal ligament, which is just below the base of the mane, halfway between the horse’s poll and withers. Then the information contained on the chip can be read with a scanner.”
“A boy?” My Gypsy frowned. “But John said Blue belonged to his daughter.”
“Anna said the trainers are going to work with Blue and Colton. They already had their first session. The trainers put Blue on a lunge line and took him and Colton into the round pen. With the trainer maintaining control through the lunge line, they let Colton ride the pony. Blue was a perfect gentleman on the lunge line, and he responded to all Colton’s cues, so it might work out.” I smiled. “But the most encouraging thing happened after the session. Colton was helping put Blue back in his stall, and he held out an apple for the pony. Instead of walking away like he’s been doing, Blue took the apple and stood next to Colton while he ate it.”
I was on my way to the kitchen when Cleric and my Gypsy trudged through the door from the deck.
My Gypsy shrugged. “I was able to convince Colton to meet Blue, so I guess that is an improvement. But the pony did not seem interested in meeting his new owner. He allowed the boy to pet him but did not respond the way I had hoped. He did not nuzzle the boy or even nicker at him. After a few minutes, he just walked away. Colton was very disappointed. I had just convinced him Blue needed him as much as he needed Blue. Then the pony showed no interest in being friends with Colton.”
Cleric lowered her eyes and tugged at her robes. “I did my best to communicate with Blue. I told him about Colton’s disability, and I stressed how much Colton needs him. The pony seemed indifferent. The only picture he kept placing in my mind’s eye was a little girl in a wheelchair, whom I assume was Casey, his former owner.” Cleric’s cornflower-blue eyes were wet with unshed tears. “Oh, Mistress, he misses her so much! I wonder if there is room in his heart for a new owner.”
At dinner, I announced that I would be going on a nature hike the next day, weather permitting. “Anyone wanting to join me better be in the car and ready to go by 7am. And because it’s been a while since our last outing, I’ll remind all of you now – if you are coming with me, there will be no robes, cloaks, suits of armor, etc. You will wear the modern garb of the realm and leave all weapons, staffs, wands, and magic paraphernalia at home.”
“Pfft! It is not our first rodeo, Mistress.” My Gypsy laughed and waggled his eyebrows the way he always does when attempting to be a comedian.
“It is a hike, not a rodeo.” My Arrogant One sneered.
My Arrogant One blushed scarlet and was about to reply, but his sidekick, my Bounty Hunter, cut him off. “Mistress, are we to be allowed some time tomorrow to use your magic box, the thing you call a camera? You have permitted it in the past.” 
“Yes. Mistress and I discussed the possibility of me creating illusory cameras for each of us. I believe I can have them ready by tomorrow morning.” Dragon smiled.
I got behind the wheel and started the car. “We’ll go to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum today. We’ll start at Spring Peeper Meadow and then go to the main section of the Arboretum. The weather is forecast to be warm and sunny all day, so I’m sure we’ll get a lot of great pictures.”
Back home that night, I downloaded the photos from everyone’s camera onto my computer so we could all view the results of the day’s photo hike. I moved the computer into the conference room where there was more space, and Miles joined us.
My Old Dwarf raised his hand. “Thet be one I be takin’. I been fass-kee-nat-ed! Thet durn fool birdie been thinkin’ it be a kitty-cat.”
“No, that is one I took.” My Foreman furrowed his brow as he looked at the photo. “It is not as clear as I had hoped. I have to work on my focus.”
My Arrogant One stood up, held his head high, grasped his cloak in both hands, and rocked back on his heels. “That would be one of mine.”
The next two images were of a male Northern Cardinal. My Bounty Hunter tilted his head and studied his photos. “He was a bit far, and difficult to find, even with so little foliage on the trees. I heard him singing for the longest time before I found him. I suppose the images are acceptable.”
“No, Mistress, that one is mine.” My Young Hero cleared his throat. “The lighting was poor, and I should have waited, but I liked the bird. I took a second photo of him as well, when he flew into a tree. I think that one is better.”
My Gypsy grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “I found him just for you.”
Dragon introduced the next images. “I took the photos of the two-tone daffodil, the orange-accented yellow tulips, the purple tulips, and the frilly orange flower, which I believe is also a variety of tulip. And, of course, my namesakes, the snapdragons.”
“Well, I guess that just leaves my images. I managed to get two shots of my nemesis bird, a male Common Yellowthroat. Usually they just call from the undergrowth and reeds, and never show themselves when they see me with a camera.”
Cleric popped into my office for the third time that morning. “Have you heard from Anna yet?”
“Eh, now how kin ye be lettin’ tha lass be knowin’ ye been hearded summat iffin she do na be comin’ back?” My Old Dwarf entered my office and plopped himself down in a chair opposite me.
I heaved a bigger sigh but decided the only way to get rid of the dwarf and get back to work was to give him the rest of the story. “Okay, do you remember Colton, the boy whose pony showed up here several years ago?”
“Aye, he be tha owner o tha wee beastie ye been callin’ Mystery.” 
“Well, shortly after we received the news that Peaches had died, Cleric had a dream. In the dream, Peaches told her where to find another suitable pony for Colton.” 
“Anna! What’s the good word?” I held my breath, hoping that Colton had been pleased with his new pony.
The aged dwarf led Cleric into the conference room. He looked into her cornflower-blue eyes, wet with unshed tears, and he spoke gently to her. “Now, lassie, yer heart be in tha right place, but I do na be thinkin’ thet ye be thinkin’ this through.”
Before the Old Dwarf could answer, the conference room door opened. The Gypsy lad walked into the room and joined the conversation. “I could not help overhearing . . .”
“I will create another illusory horse for you.”
The Gypsy handed his horse’s reins to Cleric and walked to the house. He found Colton in his bedroom, the door wide open. Remembering Colton was blind, the Gypsy called to him before entering the room. “Colton? Hi! Remember me? Rocky? Clara and I were out riding, and we thought we would stop by and visit. May I come in?”
“Of course not!” The Gypsy sat on the bed next to Colton and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Peaches was very special. She was more than just your pony. She was your friend. Friends can never be replaced.”
“Old Blue used to belong to a little girl, a girl who couldn’t walk and had to use a wheelchair. She and Blue were best friends. Blue took care of her the way Peaches took care of you. But a few months ago, the little girl died. Blue lost his friend, and now he’s just as sad as you are. He needs someone to help him cope with his loss, too.”
“Too late.” The voice came from the other side of the bed, the annoyance barely muffled by the blankets under which Miles was snuggled. He pushed off the covers and sat up, yawning and grumbling.
By the time I had apologized to my husband, found my robe and pulled it on over my pajamas, and stumbled to the kitchen table, Cleric had two large cups of cocoa ready for us. I reached gratefully for the oversized cup, but before I could take the first sip of the warm, soothing elixir, Cleric grabbed my arm, nearly spilling the hot liquid all over us both. She was bouncing with excitement.
Cleric grabbed my arm yet again. “But Mistress, this is important! Mystery told me where to find another pony for Colton.”
I started to rise, but Cleric scoffed and continued as if I was sitting there hanging on her every word. “There is an auction, somewhere nearby, very soon. We need to find where and when it is being held. The pony will be there. Mystery told me we will know it when we see it.”
Cleric beamed at me, indicating I had understood her perfectly. “I am sure you can find the auction, Mistress. You can research it on your magic box, your computer. There cannot be that many auctions in the immediate vicinity in the very near future. And when we get there, Mystery assured me we would know which pony Anna must get for Colton.”
I gaped at Cleric. It still took me aback when one of my medieval characters understood the workings of our modern world. I nodded and brought up several social media sites. On the third site, there it was. A small, weekly auction, held every Wednesday night, known more by word-of-mouth than a large advertising budget. A wide variety of merchandise was run through the auction each week, from horses and ponies, tack and equine equipment, to toys and household items. This week, the auction touted a special event, with a huge number of ponies to be sold. It was only 30 miles from Anna’s farm.
