Tangled

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312 Lisa: Elverly's Seasonings

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LISA

"So, this is the face," I explain, pointing to my crude circle. "And these are buttons on the side for different functions." I add a few lumps to represent the buttons. The Grand Sage peers at my drawing, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I see. And you believe we could adapt something like this for magical communication?" "Maybe?" I shrug, feeling a bit self-conscious about my suggestion now that I've said it out loud. "I mean, I don't know much about magic. It was just an idea." He nods slowly, his eyes still fixed on my terrible sketch. "You know, Lisa, your idea has some merit. The compact size would certainly be an advantage. Of course, I'd need to acquire some of these watches to see what I could do with them, but it's an intriguing concept." A warm flush of pride spreads through my chest at his words. It's nice to feel like I've contributed something useful, especially when I often feel so out of my depth in this magical world.

A strange scratching sound comes from the door, startling me out of my warm glow. I glance at the Grand Sage, who looks equally puzzled.

"I'll get it," I offer, pushing away from the table.

As I approach the door, the scratching intensifies, sounding distinctly impatient. Curious, I turn the handle and pull the door open.

To my surprise, Selene slinks into the room, her silver fur gleaming in the dim light. Ice-blue eyes meet mine before she pads past me, walking straight toward the older gnome, where they stare at each other in silence. Probably mind-reading each other or something. Elverly gives an exasperated sigh, grabbing for a washcloth and wiping the floor. Muddy paw prints trail behind Selene, leaving the marks of her presence. "Walking into a home, leaving it a mess. I'd never have a dog as a pet. Too much time spent cleaning up after them."

"Some people don't mind the mess. But Selene isn't a dog. She's a proper wolf and the Westwood

Pack Luna now."

Elverly points at them, her ascerbic words even throwing Selene off guard. The husky raises a paw, leaning her head down to sniff at

is a guest here. Do treat her with a little more understanding." -Elverly's scowl deepens as she turns

she curtsies. It's like watching a cat try to swim-unnatural and slightly

outburst, Grand Sage," she intones, her voice flat. "It was

312 Lisa: Elverly's Seasonings

the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Elverly's

could hear my internal laughter, which stops abruptly as she stomps over, each step punctuated by a soft thud of her gnomish

grin spreads across my face. "Didn't you say I was

the kitchen. "You're getting fat. You aren't fat

a second. Wasn't she just complaining about the quality

the kitchen doorway, throwing me a look over her shoulder that clearly questions my intelligence. "Of course

consider her spice rack a priority during an escape. But then, a memory flashes through my mind-the chaos of our flight, the urgency, the fear. My smile fades as I realize something. "Elverly?" I

I think she hasn't heard me. But then she turns, fixing me with those sharp eyes of hers. "And what if I did?" she challenges, one eyebrow raised. "Would you rather I left them behind? Then where would

at her,

Really?

turning back to the stove. "And

where a pile of