Warrick climbs onto the stag behind me, and I power down my phone, handing it to him. 'Could you please put it back in my bag?' I ask him.
Warrick inspects the device, his curiosity piqued. 'What exactly does it do?' he asks.
I smile, amused to share the wonders of modern technology. 'A mobile phone is how we communicate and message others in our world. I can write a message using the buttons and send it to Janie, Imogen, my mother, or anyone else. Or I can type in a number and then speak to them by holding it to my ear,' I explain.
'Hmm, strange,' Warrick says. 'Why not simply use a quillbird to deliver a sound scroll?'
Curiosity dances in my eyes, and I raise an eyebrow in response. 'What's a sound scroll?'
Warrick enlightens me, describing the fascinating process. 'A sound scroll is where you instruct the magic quill to write a message, and the quillbird listens as you word it. They can mimic any sound and capture your voice. The resilient quillbirds are sturdy birds with the ability to brave any weather. It will deliver the scroll to its intended recipient. When they open it, the quillbird will mimic the message out to the receiver,' he explains.
'We don't have magic quills or quillbirds where I come from. But when we text or make a call, it's instantaneous. The recipient receives the message on their phone immediately, and there's no waiting time when we speak. We converse in real-time,' I say to him.
'Your form of communication still sounds so strange,' Warrick admits.
'Well, quillbirds and sound scrolls sound just as strange to me,' I laugh.
We ride on for hours, the proximity of Warrick's chest against my back becoming an unbearable temptation. Each brush of his chest against my back ignites a fiery longing within me, urging me to turn around and surrender to the desires that consume my thoughts. I'm fighting myself to not turn around and rip his shirt and coat off. As a means of creating a physical barrier, I deliberately flick and brush my tail across his face, determined to keep some distance between us. Warrick, in a futile attempt to hold my tail aside, repeatedly finds himself with mouthfuls of fur. Gradually, he catches on to my playful intentions.
A heated shiver courses through me as Warrick presses his nose against the sensitive area behind my ear and whispers mischievously, ‘If you wanted me to eat you, I’d happily oblige if it meant I’d get to know how sweet you taste,’ he whispers mischievously.
My back stiffens, and my cheeks flare up.
'What's the matter, Rosebud? Has the wolf got your tongue?' he adds, a smirk dancing upon his lips.
'Stop it, Warrick. What have I told you about whispering such things in my ear?' I scold him, attempting to regain my composure.
'Like you, Rose, I don't listen or follow rules,' he retorts with a knowing grin.
'Stubborn beast,' I mumble under my breath.
'Stubborn wolf,' he retorts, and a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, unable to resist his playful banter.
Soon, we approach the River of Whispers. Xander takes the lead, guiding his glowhorn-stag through the shallowest part of the river. A polka-gem fish playfully flips out of the water nearby before swiftly diving back beneath the surface. I follow directly behind Xander, and Janie, while Orelious and Imogen trail behind me and Warrick. As my stag's hooves splash into the cool water, a faint whisper reaches my ears, and a realisation of a memory dawns upon me.
'This river,' I say to Warrick, 'it whispered to me once, but it's only now I've just understood its words were about you.' I reveal, fascinated.
‘What did the river whisper to you?’ he asks curiously.
‘Beyond the scars that mar its form, a beast harbours a love that weathers any storm, and then I heard the beast’s growl mask a heart’s yearning for a love that mends and fuels its inner burning,’ I pause for a moment. 'Then the whispers continued, revealing, In the heart of the ancient woods, where shadows creep, a savage beast roams. His yearning runs deep. Bound by an enchantment, cruel and profound, he wanders alone, in sorrow, bound. He dreams of a gentle caress, a voice so kind that can bring back his humanity and free his feral mind. His fierce eyes burn with an untamed flame, aching for love's touch yet trapped in his wild wolf frame. But until his true mate finds her way, in his beastly form, forever he'll stay.'
As I finish reciting the words, my voice trembles, tears pooling in my eyes. But I fight against the sorrow threatening to overwhelm me. 'The words were so haunting, and I remember feeling immense despair at the time. Even though you are now free from the Witching Woods, hearing the river's whispers still fills me with a sense of sadness,' I confess.
'Hmm, it truly was about me. Never could I have imagined that I would become the subject of the river's tales,' Warrick muses. He observes my sadness, and a gentle tenderness colours his features. 'Please, don't despair. I'm free from the Witching Woods, and we are together now, even if it's not in the way I desire,' he reassures me.
'But you won't be truly happy. It won't be enough for you,' I utter, my voice heavy with concern.
'Rosebud, seeing you safe and happy is all I want,' he says sincerely and affectionately.
I glance over my shoulder, locking eyes with Warrick, sadness lingering in my gaze. However, I muster a brave smile and nod, silently conveying my understanding and appreciation for his selflessness.
We make our way across the vast fields of grass, the wind rustling through the blades as we journey toward the entrance of the Crystal Mines. The hour-long trek leaves us in awe of the majestic sentinel crystals that loom above us, towering higher than any skyscraper I have ever seen in my own world.
Xander approaches the entrance, turning to take Janie's hand in his own. 'Are you ready to free the Felderians?' he asks, his voice filled with determination. 'We will be weakened for a short while, much like when we freed Warrick,' he cautions, aware of what's involved.
Janie meets his gaze, her eyes gleaming. 'Yes, I'm ready,' she replies, smiling back at the rest of us.