Landers and Sitch reach Daot
The sun was sinking as Landers and Sitch arrive at the town of Daot .
They recognized it as the right town thanks to the small post
with the name rustically scratched into the plank affixed to it.
It appeared to be not much more than a few shacks in a
clearing in the woods.
Landers looked down at Sitch “Doesn’t seem to be much here”.
Sitch simply smiled and skipped ahead, peering past the
obvious.
Waving a beckoning finger to Landers, Sitch passed the first
shack and disappeared into the woods behind.
“Sitch” Landers called out to his friend, “where are you
going?” He hurried his pace to follow.
He found Sitch sitting contently on a fallen log. When
Landers approached, Sitch raised a finger to his lips. “Listen” he whispered, “and
look”.
Landers crouched down, resting on one knee. He squinted, trying
to see what his friend saw. “I don’t see anything”.
Sitch simply nodded and motioned to a huge fir tree. He moved
his hand to cup his ear.
Landers strained to listen, peering a the tree.
He shook his head, but as he began his protest once more,
he heard it, a very light rustling, and voices. Landers blinked, and strained again.
The huge fir tree began to shimmer, flicker ever so
slightly.
“They hided it. They hided the town” Sitch whispered an explanation.
His innocent smile covered his face. “But not from me. I can see them.”
Landers nodded “I think I can too, almost.”
“Yes, yes, it’s easy to see if you know.”
“Well, maybe easy for you, my little friend” Landers muttered.
“How do we get in?”
“We wait. The magic people must ask us.”
Used to his friend's limited explanations, Landers resigned himself to finding an appropriate place to set up camp. He returned to the closest shack and examined it’s
worthiness. It would leak, should it rain, but otherwise it seemed a good
choice, complete with fireplace.
He set himself to gathering wood and making the shack
usable.
Sitch, on the other hand, hovered near the fir tree. He
poked the air around it with his finger. Occasionally the air would dance at his
poking, shimmering and sparkling, and Sitch would giggle. Each time, he glanced to see if Landers had noticed.
The magical force inside the invisible town must have felt
the poking and prodding, for on Sitch’s next poke, he was met with a spark, a
jolt of some kind.
It stung and frightened Sitch enough to make him run to his friend, tears in
his eyes.
He found Landers in the shack coaxing a fire to light. Sitch
unrolled the blanket tied to his friend’s sac and wrapped himself up, quietly
drying his eyes.
Landers, happy with the progress of the fire, acknowledged
his friend with smile, and leaned up against the shack's wall.
“So, we wait. How long to you suppose?”
“Not long, I imagine,” Sitch looked at his reddened finger. “They
know we’re here.”
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