We had an unexpected caller last week. Well, two callers really. Ricardo Porcini had brought one of the birds from Chunglewood (Owen Quiller) to Butterglove House but this large owl was not here to see me. My brother was the reason for the visit.
"Is Merlin available?" asked Ricardo. "Owen is the Chunglewood archivist and he wants to see if there are any older records of our people in Sylvania."
"Oh, right," I said and escorted them to Merlin's living room where he was entertaining Brendan and Orton with some historical tales.
After I'd made introductions the boys accompanied me back to my living room, bringing Snorker.
Once there, Brendan came straight to the point.
"Are these Chunglewoody people not Sylvanians, then?"
I blinked. "I haven't thought about it. Why do you ask?"
"He said 'our people'. Like they were different. Why would they do that?"
Orton looked at both of us as we pondered the question and then he made a suggestion. "It doesn't follow that they're not Sylvanians. Maybe they were travellers like the Cornflowers. Weren't they separated from the rest of the Buttergloves for years and years?"
"And these Chunglies were trapped in the forest whilst the others were lost in the depths of Sylvania?" said Brendan, taking up the theory and adding some drama.
True or not, the boys seemed satisfied with this explanation. Maybe Merlin could provide more information. In any case, the discussions must have been fruitful as Owen Quiller was absent when the next stage of the Chunglewood project commenced. Apparently he wanted to stay a while, delaying his return to Tall Tree Forest.
o 0 O 0 o
I won't bother with any lengthy preamble regarding our journey. We returned to the spot in the forest where we'd made the last attempt to forge a path through the trees and I saw there had already been significant preparatory work done.
Delvin McBurrows had dug a hole for a clay-built structure (courtesy of Rolf Billabong) that had established the foundations with a steady platform. The targeting equipment had fitted securely into custom slots on this platform and a new proto-crystal was in place awaiting my attention.
Xenophon Treefellow indicated the equipment. "I have taken detailed readings of all the proto-crystals we retrieved and this one will have a significantly greater range than the flawed one you used before."
"Is that one going back to Morwenna Deerheart?" I said. "It was on loan, wasn't it?
"Already done, dear Jackson. As for this one, I think you'll hear the difference when you start the adjustments."
He wasn't wrong. I could hear more notes - because of its range it was detecting more distortion from all the trees - but the clarity of those notes was pronounced. I hoped this would compensate for the extra notes and the time taken to complete my task would not take much longer than my last attempt. In fact, with all the experience I'd had recently manipulating proto-crystals I was hopeful that I'd find a path even quicker.
I won't keep you in suspense. I was successful and in a shorter time. At the end of the path I could see a clearing.
The elation on Xenophon's face was a joy to see. Ricardo was jumping up and down and his fellow Chunglewood citizens - Redd Treefeather and Quincy Goldbill - nodded at each other in satisfaction. Rolf Billabong shook my paw vigorously.
"Well done, mate. Bonzer job."
Quincy was about to walk down the path when Xenophon called out, "Not yet, Mister Goldbill. There's just a bit more to do."
I frowned. What could that be? There was no need to ask as a running commentary followed.
Xenophon took readings from the proto-crystal. "I first need to record how it's positioned so that it can be easily replaced without relying on Jackson's skill."
We waited patiently until he had done. He then nodded at Bruno Redbear who came forward and lifted the proto-crystal. The path disappeared.
Quincy's expression changed but before he could object Bruno held out the proto-crystal to him.
"Please hold that," his deep voice rumbled. He then unslid the targeting apparatus and put it to one side.
Xenophon explained. "We can't leave this device here open to the elements. We'll need it again. Besides, it's too delicate when all we need is a sturdy pedestal to hold the proto-crystal. Rolf has made one from clay, custom built to both fit the platform and securely hold a crystal in place."
As Bruno slid the pedestal in place I could see markings on its top surface. Once positioned, Bruno retrieved the proto-crystal from Quincy and placed it in the concave cradle. Xenophon made adjustments based upon the markings.
I needn't have been concerned about my time having been wasted. In minutes the pathway reappeared.
Xenophon extended a wing, pointing the way. "Shall we?"
o 0 O 0 o
Upon my first view of Chunglewood my impression was, "Where are the houses? Where are the people?" The clearing seemed devoid of structures or activity. It wasn't wilderness, though. I could see areas devoted to agriculture and there were paths leading here and there. At the far end of the clearing there was a body of water that had been surrounded by a raised stone path. A spring or small reservoir, I assumed.
We were about to step beyond the trees when we were confronted by what I took to be a family of foxes.
"Who are you?" said the young boy amongst them.
Redd Treefeather stepped forward. "It's alright, Howie. These outsiders are expected." He introduced the foxes as the Tippytail family, explaining, "It's their job to scout the edge of the trees and do a little foraging."
The father was called Tom Tippytail and his eyes flicked over us giving us a cursory examination. "The King will want to see you."
"That's where we're going, Tom," said Redd.
"We'd better let the King know," said the mother, Suzy Tippytail, and they left us, rapidly crossing the rough ground towards the nearest path. I looked at Redd but he offered no explanation.
All I could think was, "King? They have a king?"
We walked towards the path and followed it towards one end of the clearing. I then noticed that it led to one of many stone houses partially obscured by the trees.
"Do you all live in the forest itself?" I asked.
Redd nodded. "At the very edge. We need the open land for farming and such. We may only be a small community but we need to be efficient with our resources. We don't have all the space like you have in Mellowdene. We need to be self sufficient. "
Ricardo chuckled. "Things will be better now we've found a usable way in and out of here. Wait till they see Timbertop Farm."
o 0 O 0 o
Redd led us to a building constructed of stone blocks. He went up to the wide doors and knocked.
A deep voice drawled. "Come."
We went in. It was a stark room, the stone walls and paved floor suggested a sort of meeting room or maybe a chapel. Not a palace and certainly not a home.
At one end a lion stood, regarding us with an unreadable expression. To his side a young owl watched our approach.
Quincy Goldbill stretched out his arm in an impressive gesture. "This is the King of Chunglewood."
"Thank you Quincy," the lion said, going on to explain to us, "They call me the king because they have chosen me to be the final arbiter on the rules we follow. That and because my family name is Kingsberry."
"What should we call you?" said Rolf. "Majesty, king or what?"
The king looked at him. "You are a koala, aren't you? We have a koala family here. But I digress." He turned his head in a sweeping movement, regard each of us in turn. "I prefer to be less formal. I am Roy Kingsberry. Call me Roy."
Ricardo performed the introductions although he omitted Xenophon. Although unspoken, it was clear that the King of Chunglewood was already familiar with this particular Treefellow and not just from his recent visit via the Skyrider. The young owl was Pete Quiller, identified as a scribe present to document our meeting.
Roy Kingsberry fixed his leonine gaze upon me.
"I understand that we have you to thank for bringing our brother Ricardo back to us," he said in his resonant voice.
"It was a team effort, really," I said.
Xenophon shook his head. "This is just rabbit modesty, sir. We may have provided the tools but it was Jackson's skill that allowed us to get here."
"And we are grateful," said the lion. "Although most of our Chunglewood residents considered the original path too long to follow, it was our only link to Sylvania. Which brings me to ask - how long is this new path?"
"Part of it winds through the trees," said Xenophon. "This is what we call the Cornflower route - that would take fifteen minutes without rushing. We named it after the young boy who mapped it - Brady Cornflower. The remaining straight part established by Jackson adds another five minutes at most. "
"Twenty minutes instead of over four hours? That is incredible!"
Ricardo piped up. "In the future, maybe it won't just be me who ventures beyond the forest."
"Perhaps," said Roy. He paused and looked past us. "Speaking of those who ventured beyond, where is Owen?"
Quincy Goldbill explained how the Chunglewood archivist was consulting with Mellowdene's head librarian.
"I see," said Roy. "Understandable."
He looked at the scribe. "It appears you were right, Pete. Your father is looking beyond Ricardo's investigations. A good idea. The people will be interested to hear what he discovers."
I felt I had to say something despite not being aware of Chunglewood protocol. Maybe we would need someone like John Silk to iron out cultural differences but I couldn't wait.
"Where are your people, sir? It seemed deserted when we arrived."
"Hmm. First of all, you need not call me 'sir'. I realise it is intended as a term of respect but it is not necessary despite Xenophon's insistence on addressing me that way. No, Jackson. You found a way to Chunglewood. Perhaps you don't appreciate the significance of that deed. I am touched that you did this for the people of Chunglewood. Yes, I know that the Treefellows value access to our clearstones but Xenophon told me how that in itself wouldn't have persuaded you to pierce the forest."
If I could have, I would have blushed. It was true, though. Both my attitude and Cecile's had changed when we learned Ricardo was blocked from the rest of the Porcini family. I lifted my eyes to look at the King of Chunglewood. He was smiling.
"To answer your question, Jackson - most of my people rushed indoors when the pathway opened. Not from fear, I hasten to add. From respect. They had already agreed that I should properly greet you all on their behalf.
"That said, we are not used to outsiders. We are familiar with the Treefellows and a pawful of scientific types... what are they called again, Xenophon?"
"The Sylvanian Research Group, sir."
"Yes, yes. Them. Not many Sylvanians, you see. Just a few who were prepared to travel that intolerable distance through the forest in order to trade for clearstones. A deal that was most satisfactory as the equipment we received in trade has made our lives less arduous. And yet, there have been so few outsiders that it takes time for my people to acclimatise."
"It is quite overwhelming out there,' said Quincy.
"But a wonder," said Redd.
"I don't doubt that Mellowdene will receive some Chunglewood visitors in time. That said, it must not be at the expense of our small community here."
"Excuse me," said Bruin Redbear, "but how did your community get here in the first place?"
Roy Kingsberry laughed. "Now that is a small question with a big answer. You will forgive me if I postpone my reply to another time. Information about the Woodzeez and Honeysuckle Hollow must wait. Now, I should offer you refreshments..."
o 0 O 0 o
We remained in Chunglewood a while longer before we agreed it was time for us to leave. Roy Kingsberry, the King of Chunglewood, did not expand on the origins of his closed community. It seemed that some things would remain a mystery, at least for now.
Perhaps Merlin had gleaned some information from Owen Quiller or from records in the library.
In any case, I would be happy to tell Cecile of our success in finding a way to Chunglewood. And show her the little wooden disc that Roy Kingsberry had given me. A disc engraved with three words.
Friend of Chunglewood.
Now I really do feel like I'm blushing.
o 0 O 0 o
(The End of 'Finding a Way')
