A Mysterious Visitor

By Morgan J. Manns

Phezz patrolled the forest’s edge, searching for ingredients. Er… trespassers. A welcome respite from the training grounds, where he spent endless hours instructing kits and running melee drills. After Acon—the runt of the litter—had nearly skewered him today, he decided to end the session early.

Phezz crouched low against the forest floor and sniffed a plump white mushroom. His mouth watered, but he resisted the urge to take a bite. Tail twitching, he tucked the fragrant fungus into a satchel beside his bandolier of knives. It would be perfect for his hearty stews—

An odd scent wafted through the air.

He lifted his gaze past the canopy, tracing the distant mountain range. Only their clan of Xintixa resided on this side of the peaks. Wolves or bears often wandered into their training grounds, but this smelled different. Familiar, yet foreign…

Blazing nuts! What was that!?

Phezz lowered to all fours. A large boot print had pressed into the damp earth. Fresh…

There was a rustle in the underbrush.

Intruder! He sprang, blade flashing as he leapt, and landed, seizing the spy by the scruff. “Who sent you? What—”

“Mr. Maplebark, it’s me!”

The voice was high, trembling.

Phezz spun the captive around.

“Acon?” He released the young trainee. “What are you doing? I might have—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening around the words. The scent from the other tracks wasn’t from this kit.

“I—I wanted to apologize, Mr. Maplebark.”

“For what, being absolutely terrible at sneaking?” Phezz sheathed his knife.

Acon’s whiskers drooped. “No, for… you know, almost blinding you with the spear today. Kane distracted me, and…I slipped.”

Phezz grunted and turned back to the clearing. “If you’re lighter on your feet it will help your balance. Stealth, too.”

“At least I didn’t give you a matching scar above your other eye,” Acon chuckled. “That would’ve looked—”

Phezz raised a paw. “We’ll talk later, Recruit.” He needed to investigate that boot print. “Head back to the village.”

“But, Mr. Maplebark—”

A scream rang out in the distance.

Phezz whirled toward the noise and unsheathed a knife. “Get behind me, Acon.”

***

The cries had stopped by the time they traced the tracks to an open meadow. A quick scan revealed that a border trap had been sprung. The thin layer of sticks and leaves that once concealed the pit had now vanished into its depths.

“Look.” Phezz gestured, his voice low. “The tracks don’t lead out. It’s still inside.”

“What do you think it is?” Acon whispered excitedly.

Time to find out.

“Stay here,” Phezz muttered. “Could be dangerous.”

Keeping low, Phezz crept across the clearing, drawing a second knife. Steeling himself, he peered over the edge of the pit.

A figure huddled at the bottom.

“Is that a human?”

“Acon!” Phezz exhaled, ears flattening as he turned toward the youth now beside him. “Do you ever listen?” Although the kit had managed to sneak properly this time.

Phezz refocused on the human girl. Something was… off. Her clothing was strange. No cloak or hunting leathers, not even the fine dress of a townswoman. Instead, she wore stiff blue trousers and a shirt the color of a pink sunset. Of course her scent was unfamiliar—she was unlike any human he’d ever seen.

But was she a threat?

“Hey!” Phezz shouted into the pit.

The human looked up, her curly hair a frazzled mess.

“T-Talking squirrels?” She squinted.

Phezz leaned forward. “How did you get past our other traps?”

She shrugged, wiping her eyes. “I-I don’t know. I was walking through Central Park… then I fell into this hole.”

“Central Park?” Acon tilted his head.

“Never heard of it,” Phezz said flatly. The nearest human settlement didn’t use that name.

The girl hugged herself. “New York squirrels aren’t very helpful,” she mumbled.

“New…what?”

“Mr. Maplebark,” Acon whispered. “During training, you said to trust your gut. Mine says she’s lost.”

Phezz sighed, realizing he felt the same way. She carried no weapons. She wasn’t a marauder.

“One of the elders might know where she’s from,” Acon suggested.

Phezz considered. It wasn’t a bad idea. Using an elder’s knowledge to get her home would prevent other humans from coming to look for her.

“How do we know you come in peace?” Phezz shouted at her.

She raised her chin. “I’ve never hurt anyone. Look, I’m tired of this city. I just want to get back to my hotel and go home.”

City? Hotel? She really was confused.

Phezz pulled a rope from his pack and tossed it down. After a few tries, the girl scrambled out of the pit.

Acon beamed. “Hi! I’m Acon, and this is Mr. Maplebark! What’s your name?”

The girl eyed Phezz’s knives before turning her attention to Acon. “Miriel. You’re, um, bigger than any squirrel I’ve ever seen.”

“And you’re far from home,” Phezz interjected, leading them beneath the shade of a towering evergreen. He still didn’t understand how she had come this far without a travel pack.

“You must have been traveling the forest for days,” Acon said.

Miriel smiled. “Nope.” She looked around, looking more at ease. “Just touring with my family on vacation. Look, can you direct me to the nearest hot-dog stand? I’m starving!”

Hot…dogs? She definitely hit her head.

Acon shifted. “Mr. Maplebark… Maybe we should feed her before she meets the elders?” He lowered his voice. “She’s delusional from hunger.”

Well, there was that new recipe he wanted to try…

Phezz grunted. “Acon, she’s your responsibility. Make sure she gets some water.” The kit seemed to put her at ease.

“Yes, sir!” Acon saluted.

Phezz turned back to the human. “You like mushrooms—”

But she was gone.

His ears shot up. “What—”

“Help!” she shouted high above them, clinging to an evergreen branch. The air rippled around her.

Phezz’s mouth fell open.

Miriel was a…Traveler?

She could bend time and space.

She wasn’t just lost.

She was from another world.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Morgan J. Manns is a speculative fiction writer who firmly believes that the world needs more stories filled with magic and wonder. Captivated by the realm of intricate world-building since composing her first fantasy tale at the age of ten, she now ventures beneath the endless Canadian prairie sky with her supportive husband and two hobbit children, all while eagerly contemplating her next literary creation. While her current occupation is that of an elementary school teacher, her dream job will always be dragon rider, soaring through the skies of her imaginings.

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