The stone had become red-hot.
“Might as well resign yourself to it, girl,” said Grelgen.
“You’re on this morning’s menu and that’s all there is to
it. If there’s anything that gets my gall it’s an uncooperative
breakfast.”
“Please,” Jon-Tom pleaded with her, dropping to his
knees to be nearer eye level with their tormentor. “We
mean you no harm. We only came into your lands to ask
you for some information.”
“Sorry. Like I said, we’ve got the craving, and when it
comes upon us we’ve got to have meat.”
“But why us?” Mudge asked her. “These woods must
be full o’ lizards and snakes enough to supply your ‘ole
village.”
“Food doesn’t wander into our custody,” she snapped at
him. “We don’t like hunting. And the forest creatures
don’t stage unprovoked assaults on our person.”
“Blimey,” Mudge muttered. “‘Ow can such small
‘eads be so bloomin’ dense? I told you that were an
accident!”
Grelgen stared silently at him as she tapped one tiny
glass slipper with her wand. Jon-Tom absently noted that
the slipper was three sizes too small for her not-so-tiny
foot.
“Don’t give me any trouble. I’m in a disagreeable mood
as it is.” She whistled up a group of helpers and they
started through one archway toward Folly. Her initial
defiance burned out of her, she hid behind Roseroar.
Jon-Tom knew that wouldn’t save her.
“Look,” he said desperately, trying to stall for time as
he swung the duar into playing position and tried to think
of something to sing, “you said that meat isn’t usually
what you eat, that you only have this craving for it