Eventually after a tearful goodbye between Errol, and his family, (and after four or five attempts to extract Mary from assorted hiding places she planned to use to stow away aboard Trundles, she really didn’t want to be apart from her brother again. But Mibbet suspected that any Amelia may not appreciate it if her youngest daughter disappeared on her,) it was time to hit the old trail once again. As they headed back through the town Mibbet couldn’t quite resist the urge to take another quick glance at the scenery. Not that much had changed, well maybe one thing had changed somewhat. Apparently at some time during this visit every single door in the village had mysteriously gained googly eyes, as Elvira had an accomplice, allowing for greater distribution. A situation it was safe to say she had happily taken full advantage of.

It seemed that The Spriggans had decided that them going off alone was far too lonely, so every once in a while if Mibbet looked closely she would spot just a hint of barky brown. This situation would continue for at least a few miles, and Mibbet was willing to swear that at least a few of the trees along the roadside hadn’t been there that morning.

As they rolled out of town, Errol kept looking back and waving. Until the place was completely out of sight.

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Not far along the trail from the harbour town of Daveejons, lies the sleepy little town of Princess Falls. Where legend has it a Princess brought forth the power of a miracle, in order to cleanse the taint of a corrupt dungeon from the land, and to settle a peace with the forest spirits.

There are, of course, many who scoff at the idea of a miracle, particularly when they discover the scale of the alleged power that was unleashed on the area. Yet local farmers are willing to swear blind that until a few short years ago this place was a village on a plain. A claim that seems outlandish when you first set foot into the place, as the massive waterfall, spring fed lake, and gigantic caverns do somewhat stretch the believability of their claims.

Of course it is possible to take a guided tour of the caverns, for a fair price, and carefully drafted maps are also available for purchase. (Though if Mary offers to sell you one dear reader, we advise you not to take it, and remember that the caverns contain no place called “naughty nymphs grotto, no matter what she tells you. So save yourself a wild goose chase, and probably an unscheduled swim. You will of course get a refund if you tell her mum. But a reputation as a snitch is a hard thing to lose, and totally not worth the revenge pranking you will suffer if you do that.)

The place is home to extensive orchards, which in a rather unusual twist, are maintained by Dryads and Spriggans. Who seem to like the area for the heavy woodland all around it. Some of the local farmers have taken to keeping bees, and honey is often offered to the local forest guardians as both an offering, and a token of appreciation for their hard work. This has also given rise to a local drink, a kind of honeyed cider, that is very much unique to the area. It is advisable to drink it in moderation though, unless you don’t mind waking up naked except for a traffic cone.

Other locals seem to have taken to keeping a kind of mountain goat, as they are the only livestock apart from a few carefully corralled sheep that can tolerate the local topography.

The woods, on the other hand, have livestock all of their own, as a preponderance of wild boar seem to have moved into the area, where they do quite well for themselves really. Due in part to a good supply of oak trees nearby, and the locals being more than happy to feed them a few apple cores. Though this has resulted in the wild boar in the area being rather more rotund, not to mention somewhat less wild than their counterparts elsewhere.

In the middle of the river, sits a small island occupied by a shrine to The Great God Wannashowa, and guarded by the Delishus family. Who have considered themselves the guardians of it since the day the foundation was laid. According to local legend, the clan patriarch was given the honour of witnessing The Princesses Miracle first hand. After which he had decided to dedicate his remaining years to spreading the word. If you go to the local tavern even today he will be happy to share the tale. (If you stand him a pint that is.)

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“Next stop Daveejons,” shouted Sir Leeroy, somehow trying to convince himself that just for once, their journey would be a straightforward trip from point a. to point b. It was a fairly safe bet that he would not have his wish granted, but he lived in hope, that on one glorious day, he would have five minutes peace on the road. Thus far the overwhelming statistical evidence was saying that would never happen, of course.

Sure enough they barely got five minutes from town before they ran into a herd of feral fluftentuftens. Now given that you are probably not familiar with the history of The Adventurers association, it may surprise you to know that due to these creatures being discovered prior to the naming conventions, and not being one of the reasons for the drafting of said regulations, their name was not accurate, or descriptive of said creatures. Which were neither fluffy, nor tufty, what they were was permanently hungry. With no hair, and a mouth that more closely resembled a crank powered pencil sharpener than any usual oral cavity. With the unique biological feature that they could roll their teeth. (This gave them a distinct advantage in terms of food supply, as they didn’t have to leave the bones.)

Sir Leeroy quickly drew his weapon with a sigh, it would have been so nice to have a peaceful trip.