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In the center of the clearing was a cottage. It was a tiny cottage with a metal roof and a chimney and even a window box full of flowers. Smoke puffed from the chimney and the smell of fresh-baked bread filled the clearing.
The cottage was up on wheels like a wagon. Everything about it was scaled down. The door was smaller, the windows were smaller. Everything was small and neat and compact.
Harriet had met travelers who lived in wagons, usually pulled by quail or even draft chickens. She couldn’t see any sign of animals to pull the wheeled cottage, though.
It would have been a picturesque scene, except for one thing.
Next to the cottage, also on wheels, stood a massive iron cage.
“... uh,” said Wilbur.
“That’s... um... different...” said Harriet. “Not a lot of picturesque cottages with big wheeled cages outside.”
“Perhaps they have a very odd sense of decor?” said Wilbur.
“Yeah...” said Harriet. “What would that even be? Giant Cage Chic?”
“Qwerrrrk...” said Mumfrey, which was Quail for “I don’t know what to think.”
Red stood on the steps of the cottage. When she saw Harriet and Wilbur arrive, she clasped her hands together. “You made it! I was so worried when you took so long, even though you’re the best princess in the whole— ”
“Sorry,” said Harriet, who wasn’t particularly sorry. “There were weasel-wolves.”
“Did you beat them up?”
“No...” Harriet began.
Red’s worshipful expression slipped for a moment. “What?”
“One who doesn’t attack things that haven’t attacked me first!” Harriet yelled back, which was more or less true, although she had sometimes made exceptions for things that were a whole lot bigger than she was.
Red stamped her foot. Harriet raised her eyebrows. “Okay, see, I don’t approve of that,” she said. “You should never stomp your foot. People don’t take you seriously if you do that.”
“I’m taking her seriously...” said Wilbur, not quite under his breath.
“Yes, but you take everything seriously.”
The little girl folded her arms. “You can’t come in now,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know Grandmother would want to meet you because she’s the best grandmother in the world and you’re a princess. But you were too slow! Grandmother’s asleep.”
Harriet paused.
She tried very hard not to be treated special just because she was a princess. Being a princess wasn’t her fault. She’d been born into royalty and she knew that people treated princesses differently from peasants. It was her job to use that fact for good, not evil.
Nevertheless, she wasn’t used to people going to sleep instead of meeting with her. People usually stayed awake to meet princesses. Particularly when they’d asked for her help.
“Uh,” said Harriet. “Is she... uh... well, okay. Should we come back tomorrow?”
Strangely, the little girl looked up at the sky before answering. Harriet followed her gaze but couldn’t see anything except dark blue sky. The first stars were starting to come out and the moon was washing cold blue light over the ground.
“Don’t trust anything the big one says?” Harriet said, baffled. “But you said it’s a weasel-wolf. They don’t...”
“... talk,” finished Harriet, blinking at the door. Red had dashed inside and slammed it behind her.
She looked at Wilbur. Wilbur looked at her.
“Do we go bang on the door?” she asked uncertainly. Monsters she understood. Very small girls throwing tantrums were a little outside of her league. (Harriet was an only child because her mother said that her nerves could only take so much.)
“I don’t think we want to wake up an old lady,” said Wilbur. “I mean, when my grandmother was alive, and she went to sleep for the night, you didn’t wake her up unless the house was on fire.”
Harriet nodded. “I guess we could go home and come back in the morning?”
Wilbur looked back through the woods. “We could try, but... uh...”
He pointed.
After dark, most quail had the urge to tuck their heads under their wings and roost. Hyacinth already had her head under her wing. Mumfrey was doing better, but he was definitely flagging.
“No time for that, Mumfrey! We’ve got work to do!”
“Qwerrgkk...” muttered Mumfrey, which was Quail for “It’s not my fault, yawns just happen.”
Harriet sighed. “I guess we’re gonna have to camp in the woods tonight, then.”
“With all the weasel-wolves?” said Wilbur.
“Yeah. And according to Red, we’re not supposed to trust anything they say.”
Wilbur looked very confused. “Do you think that’s going to be an issue?”
“I tell you,” said Harriet thoughtfully, leading Mumfrey toward the woods, “I’m starting to wonder...”