Return to the Featherlands: Chapter 9 (Patreon)

The evening came alive within the tunnels of Sprite’s Hollow. From the rousing commotion, a great celebration began to unfold. None of it had been prepared for, and yet there was little care to the matter. The Featherland Queen had returned and promised prosperity once again. The halls were alive with hushed whispers and the passing of the news. Silvia’s message had spread from one mouth to another. Creatures collected within the Hollow joined together. Woes were forgotten. Worries were but ghostly memories. The paranoia brought on by Nysadia’s regime had been extinguished, if only for one glorious night.

Sprite’s Hollow exploded with impromptu festivities. Music poured through the tunnels. Surpluses of food became bounties on which to feast. The finest fairy wines had been broken into, flowing freely from one cup to the next. Silvia, at the center of it all, observed a Featherlands more boisterous than any she had ever seen before. It was a Featherlands not free from worry, but one that could actively overcome anything. Not a land absent of concern, but one blooming with the love and strength to overcome any force that may stand against them. She witnessed not fighters or survivors, but lovers. Friends embraced one another openly. Families laughed together as one. Paramores engaged with one another, exploring the boundaries of their affection without fear holding them back.

Silvia laughed. To the jests and jokes and friendly tickles, she laughed among all of the others. They laughed together like they always had, making music out of their elation and praise to a life free of tyranny. In an instant, she was a girl again. She was among friends and extended family, laughing and smiling wider than she ever thought she could. Silvia danced with the fairies. She sang with the wolven beasties and twirled with the felines. She ate among the Featherland elves and tasted the candied fruits of the imps. To them, she was queen, but to her she was just another soul among them, one with just as many fears that became an avoidable nuisance to make way for the evening’s celebratory splendor.

Silvia sat next to Thea, who sipped wine from a chalice cupped in both hands. She watched as several fairies and elves demonstrated a public tickling display. Two stood in the center of a clump while some of the more playful imps skittered their delicate claws all over their exposed skin. The two ticklish performers giggled and danced in place, each falling victim to a jesting scratching of their belly or a feather to their armpit. Others partook in the fun and yet, even to Silvia, the pair always appeared to enjoy themselves. Remembering her time in the Badland Castle, it was a charming experience watching tickling take place with joy to be spread through all parties involved. Thea spurred on the ticklers and even pounced to take part herself, running her tail across the small of their backs.

The rooms were bursting with laughter and unrestrained merriment. Silvia embraced every moment of relief felt by the Featherlanders as her own. She peered up to a balcony standing above the feasting chamber. There, Queen Deidra sat alone, drinking from a goblet and watching the festivities. Silvia let her friend continue teasing the two ticklish performers and left to join the queen in her solitude. Up on the next floor, Silvia carefully walked into the open chamber.

“Queen Deidra?” Silvia asked. The queen looked back at the girl. Next to her, the dagger that Silvia had taken from the Featherland Assassin sat on a small table.

“You could have stayed down there, you know?” Deidra said.

“I know,” Silvia said. Deidra picked up a bottle decorated with shimmering gold leaves. She offered the girl a chalice of wine from personal supply. Silvia raised her hand with a dismissive smile. “No thanks.” Deidra put down the chalice and refilled her own. Silvia followed her over to the table where the dagger laid. Deidra saw Silvia take notice.

“Sorry to have taken this,” Deidra said. She put down her cup and carefully took the dagger in her hands. “I wasn’t trying to steal it or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” Silvia said. “Is something wrong?” Deidra looked down at the weapon. She ran her fingers across the hilt studiously.

“Just something seemed…” Deidra started. She held on to a moment of piqued concentration. When she pulled away from the dagger, she looked back to Silvia and smiled weakly. “I don’t know. It’s nothing. You can take it back.”

“You sure?” Silvia asked. Deidra looked away. She sipped from the cup and nodded. “Okay.” Silvia reached out and took the blade. She held it carefully in her hands, standing at attention for the fairy queen.

“It’s really good to have you back, my queen,” Deidra said solemnly. She held the royal goblet tightly in her hands. Inside, fruitful nectar shimmered with bright candy red ripples. Silvia studied the queen in a much more personal light. The more hands-on responsibilities of communal upkeep had left the fairy queen tired and humbled in her appearance. She appeared more like a commoner in the way that she dressed and spoke. Silvia smiled a sad smile.

“Well, it’s good to be back,” Silvia said. “Even if the circumstances aren’t great.” Deidra nodded and walked back over to the balcony. She paused for a moment, her eyes watching the blooming activity going on in the hovel. She watched her fairies dance, their wings fluttering and scattering tickly dust. She watched beasties drink and share tales of their families with the others. She watched elven and imp youth play freely from their parents’ cautious eyes. Deidra watched Featherlanders laugh and tickle and sing with more mirth than she had observed since the retreat. Before her, there were no worries. There was no looming threat. There was no oppressive regime hunting them down. There was only life and happiness to be shared, how it always was. Deidra grinned as she watched over her people.

“This is how it should be,” Deidra said. She took a sip from her goblet. “This is what we’re trying to save.”

“And we will,” Silvia said, walking up next to her. Deidra turned to her as Silvia sighed. “That feels so empty coming out of my mouth. Like, I don’t want to lie to them, but… I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Deidra gave a soft chuckle. “What?”

“Maybe not verbatim,” she started, “but that might have been the exact thing I said when I took over as queen.” Silvia mirrored Deidra’s chuckle.

“Well, I guess that makes me feel better,” Silvia said. “You did end up being a pretty great queen. Better than I ever was.” Deidra took another sip.

“Bad. Good. Better. The more I do, the less those kinds of words mean to me.” Deidra swirled the wine in her cup. “What you do next is always more important than what you’ve done. You came back. You care. You give them hope. That’s the kind of queen I’d want to live under. And it’s obvious that that’s the kind they want to live under too.”

“It’s very sweet, how welcoming everyone’s been,” Silvia said. “After what happened with Paul, I’m not sure I was expecting all of this.” Deidra smiled cheekily down into her cup.

“Paul… he, uh…” Deidra started. “I wouldn’t worry about him, dear. He’s just being a boy.” Silvia shrugged.

“He had his reasons, I guess,” Silvia said. “I can’t blame him too much for how he acted.”

“He’s very protective,” Deidra said. “His emotions stem from how much he cares about the people around him. He was instrumental in preparing the sanctuary. We wouldn’t have had all of this if it wasn’t for him.”

“And I’m sure you wouldn’t have needed all of this if it wasn’t for me,” Silvia said. Deidra shot her a disappointed, but understanding look. “I don’t know, there’s so much that I’m still confused about. Like, I know basically nothing about this new queen.” Deidra looked back and sighed. She took another sip from her goblet, her fingers rubbing against the outer rim.

“I knew Nysadia,” Deidra said softly. Silvia turned to her.

“You did?” Silvia asked. Deidra nodded.

“She was a frequent visitor of the Featherlands,” said Deidra. She spoke softly, carefully scanning around about who may be in ear shot. “She was a sweet girl. I wouldn’t say that I knew her very well, but she was never like this.”

“What happened?” Silvia asked. Deidra took a long sip from her chalice.

“Long before the Badlands were even called that, there was an incident,” Deidra spoke vaguely. “I was still a princess at the time. Nysadia became close to one of the other fairies in the commune. Evabella. They played quite frequently. Then one day, she was gone. It all felt so strange. It’s not unlike children to simply stop coming, but something felt off. Something felt wrong and I took it upon myself, as princess, to make sure that that girl was okay. I told my mother and she brushed it off. I asked Evabella about her and she acted like nothing was wrong. But I could feel it. There was always an energy. We fairies are sensitive to these things. It was a dark, lingering energy. It got more and more sinister the longer it was left to fester. It stopped being about Nysadia, there was something bad coming. I just knew it. Evabella was never the same after. I later found out that Nysadia had become one of Tickela’s first victims, one of the first to be condemned to the pit.” Silvia sat in silence. She looked away, feeling a twist in her stomach grow tighter. She sighed. Deidra’s lip started to quiver. “I should have done more. If I had, I could have saved her and probably stopped Tickela before…”

“Don’t,” Silvia said, all that she could say.

“If anyone should be blaming themselves, it’s me,” Deidra said. Silvia thought for a moment. Putting herself in the position, she could certainly see why Deidra would think that way. Inaction and resulting tragedy.

“No,” Silvia said. She raised her chin. “What happens next is more important than the past.” She paused as Deidra glanced back at her. Silvia tilted her head and averted her puzzled eyes. Deidra gave a light laugh, one that was as genuine as it was musical. “Or whatever you just said… I got that wrong, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but you had the spirit,” Deidra said, smiling wide. “That’s all that matters.” Silvia blushed. She huffed through a grin and adjusted her glasses.

“You’re right,” Deidra said. “Hopefully this can all end peacefully. I don’t know how she’s back, but I hope that she can come around somehow and that you’re able to find your sister.” Her sister’s danger lingered in the back of Silvia’s mind like a virus, slowly devouring every other thought. Silvia swallowed and sniffled a little.

“I… I hope so too.”

The night fed into a natural dwindling of activity. Partiers began to fade into exhaustion as Silvia retired herself for the evening. Thea, operating under the queen’s orders, aided Silvia by preparing her a warm bath, a change of clothes, and a bed. The amenities of the Hollow were still quite impressive compared to what limited resources they had with which to work. The bath was soothing with an aroma that Silvia could have stayed in forever. The bed was plush like a cloud with sheets as soft and cool as actual rose petals. She thanked the feline beastie for her service with a hug, having not much more on her person to give other than a few textbooks and homework sheets that she knew would likely never get turned in.

The following morning operated just as easily for the young queen. Thea was ready by the time she woke with freshly made breakfast, mostly consisting of cooked vegetables and fresh fruit. As much as she loved the Featherlands, Silvia greatly preferred the food back home, though she kept that to herself and ate happily. She stayed dressed in the sleeping clothes gifted to her when she was escorted to the Hollow’s makeshift armory. There, Queen Deidra waited for her, readying a table of various equipment and supplies.

“Good morning, my queen,” Deidra addressed. Silvia blushed and scratched the back of her head. Her hair was in far too bad of shape for anyone to be calling her ‘queen’, she thought. She hid a yawn behind her hand.

“Good morning,” Silvia said. “Oh, sorry. I… I’m ready.” She looked down to see her bag sitting beside one leg of the table. She reached into a side pocket and pulled out a small, travel-sized hairbrush to help untangle the nest atop her head.

“Take your time, dear,” Deidra said. “I’ve laid out a few things for you to take if you’re still set on making this journey.” Thea stood beside the walkway out. She looked down, her tail dropping with her head.

“Okay,” Silvia said. She finished with her hair by tying it into a ponytail and stood up straight, looking over the effects laid out for her by the fairy queen. One by one, Deidra went over them.

“First off, you’ll need more to protect yourself more,” Deidra started. She went over to several articles of light armor laid out for her. She saw a chest piece that would cover up to her shoulders and down to her waist. She ran her hand over a pair of shorts and tassets to cover her hips and thighs. A pair of boots sat standing up, rising to what would be over halfway up her calves, by her estimation. The entire set managed to match with a black and magenta palette stain across the finely woven leather and cloth. “This set here was stitched together overnight, but it was handled by the finest leathersmiths in the Hollow. It’s designed to protect the most sensitive areas while not restricting mobility for the purposes of stealth and easy getaways.”

“I love it,” Silvia said. “I hope I won’t need to make any quick getaways.”

“Well, you know the Badland Castle as well as anyone,” Deidra said plainfully. “It’s just to be on the safe side.”

“No, I get it,” Silvia said. Deidra followed Silvia down the table to the rest of the effects.

“Down here, we have some of the more direct offensive and defensive measures that we could spare from the armory,” Deidra continued. She showed Silvia a small blue pouch. Inside rattled a collection of small purple pellets. “Feather bombs. Just break and run and be sure not to breathe it.”

“Oh, I remember,” Silvia said. She pushed away the memories of the Assassin using the weapon against her recently and looked down to a small glass vial, filled with a shimmering red liquid.

“This will help numb your body for a short time,” Deidra said. “You won’t respond to tickles, but motor functions may also suffer, so use wisely.”

“Got it,” Silvia said, bummed that such a thing needed to exist at all. Deidra led Silvia’s attention down to the rest of the supplies.

“We don’t have much in terms of weapons,” Deidra said. “Just other daggers that we have for the fairy scouts, but you already have one of your own. I made sure to put it back into your bag. Same pocket.” Silvia looked down to her bag. Before answering, she checked the pocket in which she had kept the dagger the day before to confirm that Deidra had returned it.

“Right,” Silvia said.

“Good,” Deidra said. She lifted Silvia’s backpack and opened the main pouch. “And I’ve already taken the liberty to pack your bag with aid supplies like bandages and herbs to help heal wounds. There’s also a lantern and a full waterskin on one side. And we’ve provided you with as many rations of dried fruits and berries as could fit comfortably in the rest.” The bag was noticeably more bulky than she had it. It looked considerably heavier, but Silvia smiled with gratitude for the queen’s preparations.

“Thank you,” said Silvia. “Honestly, this is amazing. It’s more support than I was expecting.”

“We wish we could do more,” Deidra said solemnly. “We really do. If I could, I’d send others with you, but you understand how I can’t risk what little support we have here in case…”

“I understand,” Silvia said with a smile. “It’s scary and dangerous, I get it. I wouldn’t ask anyone to put themselves in that situation just for me.” Deidra sighed and looked down.

“Remember, the goal is your sister,” Deidra said softly. “Nysadia is more than any of us can handle. I know what you said last night gave people hope, and I greatly appreciate the notion, but please just focus on getting your sister back. Don’t try to take her on yourself. We will deal with Nysadia together. But for now, it’s best just to leave her alone.”

“If she has Lilly, I’m going to talk with her,” Silvia said. “I don’t have much of a plan beyond that, but one way or another, I’m bringing Lilly back.”

“M-my queen…” Thea said from the back of the room. Both Silvia and Deidra turned their heads. Thea stepped closer, her tail tucked down by her legs. “Might I make a request?” Both of the queens waited for the other to respond before Deidra stepped up.

“Go ahead,” Deidra said. Thea scratched the side of her face.

“Well, it would be dangerous… and perhaps irresponsible to allow Silvia to go out on her own,” Thea said, her voice forced and timid. “I could volunteer to go with her as support.”

“That’s very sweet, Thea,” Deidra began dryly, “but I need you and the others here at the commune.”

“But, your majesty, if something happens out there, the queen will have no one to turn to,” Thea argued. “Surely someone should go with her.”

“Theas, please understand that we need all the help we can get here,” Deidra said more loudly.

“But, your majesty, my br-”

“Thea, I have spoken,” Deidra said, nearly loud enough to be a shout. Thea recoiled. Deidra paused and collected herself. “I… I can’t… make that risk again.” Thea fell silent. Silvia placed her hand on Deidra’s arm. The queen shivered slightly as she stood firmly in place. “I can’t be the reason that another… doesn’t come back.” Thea nodded. Silvia stepped forward toward the feline beastie, standing by the door. She smiled and walked up to her new friend.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Silvia said, taking Thea’s hands. “I promise. I’ll be fine. Thank you for caring about me, but now I need you to be strong and believe me. Okay?” Thea nodded, her lips trembling slightly.

“Please, my queen,” she said softly. “If it’s not too much to ask…”

“What is it?” Silvia whispered.

“M-my brother had been taken in by the Badland Queen’s efforts,” Thea said. Her ears were wilted atop her head. “Please… please bring him back too… if you can, that is. His name is Dayton. He looks like me, only taller.” Her voice shook with rising tears. Silvia gave Thea a sad smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” Silvia said, “I’ll get him back. I’ll do my best. Just stay here and help keep everyone safe, okay?” Thea sniffled and nodded.

“Okay,” Thea said.

“I believe in you,” Silvia said. Thea managed to smile, albeit sadly. “Can you give us a minute?” Thea nodded and walked out into the halls beyond the armory. Silvia turned around to face Deidra, her face vacant from the storm raging in her mind. “I feel like this may be the thousandth time I’ve said this, but what happened was not your fault. Not with Nysadia.” She paused beneath the weight of the words. “And not with Erica either.”

“I’m simply trying to keep my people safe, my queen,” Deidra said.

“I get that,” Silvia said. “And I won’t fight you on how you choose to do so, but eventually you’re going to need to stop blaming yourself. The past, remember? What you said to me?” Deidra nodded.

“Right,” she said. “Truth be told, I don’t love the idea of sending you out there alone, but I can’t risk others being put in danger. And I know I can’t stop you. The best thing I can do is make sure that you’re as prepared as you can be.”

“That’s all a good queen can do,” Silvia said, shooting Deidra a proud smile. “You’re better at this title than I ever was.”

“But here you are braving the wilds,” Deidra said. “Like a warrior. The Featherland Warrior.”

“Nuh uh, that’s still Lilly,” Silvia said. “I’m just a girl who’s too stubborn for her own good.” The two shared a laugh, a mutual understanding, and a long hug.

Thea returned shortly thereafter to help Silvia change into her leather armor. Silvia was surprised as to how well the articles fit while still managing to look relatively fashionable for their utility purpose. Silvia kept her hair pulled back and glasses pushed far up the bridge of her nose. She adjusted the backpack against her shoulders as she prepared to step out of the Hollow. Deidra, Thea, and many others gathered to send the young queen off, all of them wishing her the best of luck on her journey. She garnered a rousing cheer of support from them all, raising the hopes of everyone that her return would bring upon a restored prosperity to the Featherlands. Silvia was careful not to make such bold claims again, but promised to return with her sister as soon as she could. Still, the Featherlanders sent Silvia off with a shower of good fortune, their confidence in her abilities soaring wildly over her own.

Once outside again, Silvia adjusted the bag strapped to her back. She clung tightly to the straps. She peered around down the Westernly path upon which she had been set. The road was stone and gravel. Weeds poked up through the cracks, reaching for her calves as she passed. Bushes with pale flowers lined the edge of the path, separating her and the dense woods beyond. The boots she had been given crunched against the ground. She quickly assessed how snug they fit against her ankles, making sure that nothing she would encounter out into the Featherland wilderness could easily get inside or slip them off.

Clouds kept the walk from being too bright or hot. The day was bright and warm, yet comfortable enough to make for a bearable trek. Silvia’s eyes peered around through the trees into the deep woods. She watched out shifting movements and watchful eyes, learning what it felt like to be a creature of prey in unfamiliar terrain. She witnessed several colorful birds flying overhead and others nestling into the surrounding branches. Silvia listened out for alarming noises or calls, staying alert to every detail of her surroundings. Elements of Girl Scout training from when she was little started to come back to her. Her mind stayed on her goal, her environment, and her supplies. Most importantly, however, she stayed vigilant to danger and knew exactly where her survival tools were in case she needed them.

Staying alert, however, came with its own price of exhaustion. The walk was not difficult, yet the way that her mind raced through it quickly made her eyes heavy and attention waver. It was not long before Silvia began feeling the weight of solitude. The silence was unnerving, even in the relatively bright and colorful world of the Featherlands. While not as lively as it once was, the beauty, or at least the potential thereof, was still apparent in the trees and the flowers. Still, not feeling like she could trust any of it came with a tiring dread. She longed for the days of her youth, where visits to the Featherlands were exclusively happy and exciting. It had been her place to escape, her little sanctuary. Coming back to find it tainted and in need of rescue had just become one more brick in the wall shielding her from the fleeting joys of childhood.

Silvia looked around at every noise. Every little twig breaking. Every branch rustling and snapping. Everything that sounded remotely like a footstep behind her. She breathed deeply to calm her nerves.

“It’s okay, everything’s fine,” Silvia said. She continued making her way down the path, keeping her backpack hugging onto her shoulders. She stroked her hair out of her face. Silvia scratched the side of her neck, turning to look at distant rustling between the trees. It brought her mind back to Lilly. She wondered what all Lilly encountered along the way the first time and if she even managed to succeed the journey the second. Silvia shook her head. She forced away the thoughts that she suffered of anything bad happening to her sister, a shake of her head that she expected to make quite often. “Everything’s fine.”

Her mind whirred over one thought stumbling atop another. She replayed the memory of the Featherland Assassin, still rattled from that experience. She recalled all that Paul had told her of what had become of the Featherlands. Queen Deidra’s words stayed with her, along with all the smiling faces of those depending on her. Determination, a vow she made to herself to not let them down again, kept one foot stepping in front of the other.

The farther she walked from the sanctuary, the thicker the local flora started to grow. Bushes seemed to double in size. Flowers and weeds grew taller and more fuller in their blooms. Tree branches bridged one side of the woods to the other over her head, the leaves rustling through which growing more and more dense. Alluring scents of the colorful flowers around her filled the air. As nervous as she was, the aroma did make her feel better about the future of the Featherlands. It was clear that not all of the charm had faded away.

Silvia noticed one bush had a flower poking out at an odd angle. It was a gargalnia, a Featherland flower often found off of the garlianas vine. Silvia remembered the flower from its alluring aroma and pollen that emitted a tickling effect. It seemed to point toward the center of the path, almost reaching out toward her. It was a soft shade of yellow, its petals shimmering with morning dew. The bloom was perfectly arranged. Not too young yet still in its prime. Silvia slowed to a stop before the flower. It relaxed her, a relief that she felt she could use with which to begin her journey. She walked up to the flower and cupped the bulb with her fingers. She brought her face closer to admire the fragrance. It was just as mesmerizing as she had remembered Featherland flowers being. They amplified the scents of overworld flowers, blooming to an extent of beauty most flowers from her world would never achieve.

Silvia indulged herself with the scent and smiled. She leaned back and gave the petals a soft pet for its contribution. The flower shifted beneath her sign of affection. The bush rustled before her. More of the vibrant gargalnias emerged from the leaves, blooming before her eyes. Silvia watched, taken back by the odd reaction. She reached out and stroked more of the flowers with her fingertips. One after another, she brushed tenderly while more bloomed from the bush, each beckoning for her attention. Silvia knew that life in the Featherlands put a communicative emphasis on touch. Such reactive behavior from flora was not uncommon. Still Silvia proceeded with caution as she showed love to the more delicate features of the world that she adored so much.

As she started to pull away, a vine shot out through the leaves. It latched onto Silvia’s wrist, squeezing it tightly. Silvia gasped and tried to pull away, but the vine pulled along with her with a strength she could hardly match. The flowers in the bush shifted eagerly. The woods all around Silvia seemed to lean in closer to the girl. The trees seemed to watch her. The branches reached out to her like arms with feathery leaves for fingers. Silvia pulled harder, but the vine only wrapped more around her wrist to maintain control. It tugged her toward the bush and the woods beyond. Silvia grit her teeth. She buried her boots into the gravel beneath her, pulling as hard as she could. The weeds beneath her feet snaked up around her footwear. The grass itself began to trap the girl in place. Silvia’s heart raced. She reached behind her with her other hand. She felt around the pockets of her bag and withdrew the dagger from its pouch. With one hard swipe, she cut through the vine, leaving the remains limping falling from its coil around her wrist.

Silvia tore off the weeds closing around her boots and dashed. She took off running as fast as she could, seeing the woods themselves like an animate monolith turn its attention toward her. More bushes seemed to shake. The swaying of trees made the branches reach out for her. She looked off to one side to see more of the woods swaying in her direction. Not paying attention, a clump of weeds pushed up a stone in her path. It caught onto her boot and sent the girl crashing to the ground.

Silvia grunted as she hit the gravel. A harsh scrape left stings across a knee and an elbow. She staggered to push herself up to her feet, but another vine shot out from behind the bushes. It caught the wrist of the hand that still held onto the dagger. Before Silvia could pass it off to the other, the vine tugged hard at Silvia’s arm, dropping her back onto the ground. It pulled her through the bush and into the woods. The vine raced at a thrashing pace. Silvia tumbled over brush and sticks and roots, trying to get a handle on the vine as she tumbled over the woodland floor. The vine pulled her deep into the woods. The trees shifted to watch the girl scream as she was dragged through twigs and dirt. Silvia tried to reach over to pass the dagger, but the vine shifted her aggressively, never letting her gain enough bearings to ready her weapon.

When it stopped, the vine lifted Silvia high above the ground. It held Silvia between a collection of trees, all seeming to leer hungrily in her direction. She panted. Sticks and leaves were caught stuck in her hair, her ponytail effectively loosened. She reached over to take the dagger to cut herself free, but stopped when she saw the height at which she was being held. The fall would do her little good, likely leaving her with a sprain of sorts, at best. She tried to think. Before she could act at all, however, another vine shot out through an adjacent tree. It latched onto Silvia’s other wrist. The two held her high, spreading out her arms as she flailed uselessly.

“Argh! Let me go!” Silvia cried. She squirmed in place, trying her best to slip her hands out from the vines’ grips, but the pair coiled tightly. The woods behaved like a creature ready to devour trapped prey. Silvia knew that, if nothing was done, that might well become her situation.

Silvia wriggled in place for a while, but quickly tired herself out. She huffed and looked around for a way down. As she did so, two more vines snaked down from the canopy above her head. They slowly worked their way down toward Silvia, hanging suspended uncomfortably high. Silvia tried squirming to avoid the vines, but the pair moved like tendrils, like arms aimed with their own clear agenda. They made contact with Silvia's neck and worked down her shoulders. With Silvia’s arms stretched out, both vines began poking around the ends of the sleeves ending halfway to her elbows.

“Wait… he-hey!” Silvia tried to argue with the vines. The two moved like worms, mindlessly searching toward a goal with no means of reason beyond basic instinct. Silvia braced herself. The two still slithered against relatively sensitive areas, but the girl could only hope that they would not work their way into her new, finely crafted armor. The two tried. Like fingers, they found the edges of her sleeves and attempted to force their way inside. It was as if the vines, or even the woods themselves, could sense Silvia’s most ticklish spots. She tried to angle the dagger still in her hand to cut herself free. She figured that swinging down by one vine would give her at least a safe way down. But as the vines succeeded breaking into her armor, her concerns immediately shifted.

The vines pushed their way inside, slithering down to her stretched armpits. Their aggression nearly subsided as the tips of each delicately began to brush against Silvia’s smooth, slick armpits. Silvia squealed. She closed her eyes and bit down hard to keep herself from giggling. Her body twitched. Her hands tightened into fists, her legs bent up toward her torso. The vines continued to wiggled against her armpits, leaving the young girl shaking in an attempt to keep herself from laughing. She figured that if she gave no hint at being ticklish that maybe the vines would just let her go. But her delicate senses gave in much too soon to test that hypothesis.

“Eeeeekkkhheheheheehheheeee!” Silvia’s giggles broke through. The tickles were mild, but quickly compounded from the consistency. The feathery tips of the vines brushed and squirmed against Silvia’s delicate pits from within her armor. Silvia’s giggles steadily picked up. She tried to fight them back, but once she started laughing, it became that much more difficult to stop. She twisted in the air, pulling at the vines holding her up. A swarm of light laughter overcame her composure. Her legs kicked and her head shook side to side. The vine tips traced across her soft, sensitive pits at a routine pace. As much as she fought against the tickles, and may have enjoyed them in a different context, the drop below her was far less desirable.

The tips of the vines swiveled across her slick pits with ease. They poked and scratched slightly with the faintest of tickles. Their texture was gentle and, much like what named the rest of the Featherlands, bore a fluffy consistency. Silvia’s face scrunched up. She squirmed in place as sweat began trickling down the back of her neck. She threw her head back in wild laughter as the vines began scratching like fingers. The plants feasted off of her ticklish energy, not unlike many of the Featherland’s flora and fauna. Silvia’s body pulsed with tickles. Endless giggles poured from her open mouth. She still tried to fight them back, but the gates were fully opened.

“Neeeaaahahahahahhaaaa!!! Staaahahahahahaap!!” Silvia cried out. She knew the plants would only act on instinct. To them, she was prey caught in a trap. She had to think fast to get herself free before her situation worsened. The vines continued to explore their feathery tips against Silvia’s delicate pits, each quivering and fully vulnerable within her armor. As Silvia’s ticklish response began to lessen, one of the vines began tracing further down her body. Snaking down inside her armor, the vine scaled over one set of ribs. Silvia squealed loudly, her body jerking to the sudden shift in tickles.

“No no naaaaaaahahahahahahaaaa!!!” The young queen cried out. Her hips twisted and legs kicked in the air. She swung her body as best as she could through the brief mania of giggles to try and get free. The fall was looking more and more bearable as the tickles seemed to take a stronger command over her senses. The faint tips of the vines stroked and fluffed against her skin like feathers designed for nothing else but tickling. One continued to scribble inside of her pit while the other pinched and counted her ribs up and down. Silvia could only squeal and laugh, her voice fluttering with airy, girlish laughter. She pulled and tugged at the vines holding her wrists, but the pair held her tight and available for the other two to indulge their ticklish hunger.

“Staaahahahahhahahappp!! Plehehehahahsssee!! Put me daaaahahahahahahwn!!” Silvia pleaded. None of the vines seemed interested in stopping. They worked together, the woods surrounding her a singular organism prepared to harvest the girl for her ticklish laughter. The fingers scribbled and snaked against her ribs and armpit. The one vine in the pit curiously began to scratch down to her other set of ribs. The other worked its way down to her side. It brushed and pinched like a hand against her sensitive skin. Silvia bucked and squeaked with ticklish giggles. Sweat beaded across her body. Her legs flailed and kicked, her hips twisting in place.

Silvia’s midsection exploded with tickles from both sides. The vines operated mischievously, exploring all of the best ways to produce laughter out of the girl. One scribbled the feathery tip against her ribs from within her armor. The other pinched at her side and even circled in front to slither across her belly. Silvia pleaded through her giggles. Dimples pushed into her rosy cheeks. Her hair loosened as her ponytail nearly came from how much her body writhed through the attempts to get free. Her arms still pulled at the vines. She still attempted to cut herself free with the dagger fumbling in one hand. The tickles remained persistent, riddling her nerves and distracting her mind.

“Neeeehehehhehahahahahahahaaaaa!! Heeeehehehehelp!!!” Silvia cried out. She dreaded being so easily taken by her own naivety, tricked into becoming a victim by something as simple as a plant. She called out for help, but sparingly, knowing that more inevitable hysteria would leave her squirming in a ticklish desperation from which she might not escape herself. The vines slide devilishly across her soft skin. They toyed with Silvia’s delicate nerves, scribbling freely against her ribs and belly. The one vine’s feathery tip brushed down to her side and back up toward her pit. Silvia wiggled side to side, but wherever she moved, the vine trapped inside her armor moved with her. The other circled around her belly. It feathered and brushed around the slight, sensitive plump in the front.

The vine traversed and explored all over Silvia’s belly. It moved with a methodical touch, an approach rich with determination to harvest as much ticklish laughter from its prey as it could. Fine hairs across the vines tickled as they brushed against Silvia’s skin. They left the faintest of spurs behind, resonating tickles across the paths they tread. The vine scratching around her belly circled the area over and over again, each pass Silvia’s stomach quivered with the laughter seeping out of her. The vine soon slipped down toward her navel. Silvia dreaded the moment of touch, knowing that it would only find more of her most sensitive areas vulnerable to its ticklish instincts. The vine slithered down to the spot. The feathery tip traced around the outside of her belly button. The anticipation left Silvia’s nerves rising, her body thrashing from the other tickles in preparation. Quicker thereafter, the vine knew where to go next. The delicate tip slipped inside her navel, the feathery edges gliding across the screaming nerves within.

“NEEEEEEEEAAAAAaaahahahahahahhaahahaaa!!! Stahahahahahaaaaahahahahahahp!!!!” Silvia shouted with laughter. The last of the giggles had faded into full ticklish laughter. Tears began forming in the corners of her eyes. Her arms pulled harder at the vines spreading them out, but the vines kept a firm coiled grip around her wrists. The vine dipped down into her navel. It fluffed its tip into the shallow crevasse, brushing against the delicate nerves around the inner band. It kept up with her erratic pulsing, the violent reactions of her body as she endured the ticklish assault. It dug into the hole, tickling with a maddening persistence to go after the highly sensitive area.

The pair of tendril-like vines worked around Silvia’s ticklish spots from inside her armor thoroughly. While the one feathered its tip within her navel, the other liberally explored around her sides and ribs, occasionally circling around her belly like a worm feeding off of her laughter. Silvia’s stomach ached. Her chest heaved and throat steadily became sore from the endless streams of laughter escaping from her lips. Tears trickled down her burning cheeks. Her legs flailed uselessly in the air. Her arms pull at their binds to no effect. As best as she could, Silvia still attempted to angle the dagger in her hand to a position where she may be able to cut herself free. She still managed to twist the weapon around in her grip, but the tickles pouring through her created wave after wave of distractions to the point where the tickling was all that she could process and enduring it was all that she could do.

Before Silvia could recognize how the woods surrounding her prepared to bind her more effectively for their ticklish nourishment, two more vines snaked out from the tree branches. They each coiled around her ankles, keeping her legs still from their flailing. Silvia’s senses jolted. She gasped through her laughter, a churn of dread seeping through her mind. She shook her head as she laughed and twisted in place.

“Naaaayyyaaahahahaha!! No no noaaaahahahahahaha!!!!” Silvia shrieked. With the vines holding both her wrists and her ankles, her movements had been greatly reduced to more uselessly swinging her hips side to side. She continued to pull at those holding her arms out. Silvia instinctively started pulling at the vines that had captured her ankles, but knew that pulling would likely pull at the boots the vines so tightly coiled around. The boots remained her most valuable protection. The girl knew that risking them would mean almost certain defeat. She blushed and clenched, fighting back her body’s natural hysterical dance while the two active vines continued to torment her helpless midsection with feathery tickles.

Before long, however, two more vines emerged. The surrounding woods picked at Silvia’s vulnerability, taking advantage with a more dense assault against her ticklish body. The two new vines, matching the others with fine hairs and feathery tips, snaked toward her legs. While the two holding her ankles squeezed to keep her in place, the new pair met Silvia at her knees. They coiled and slowly snaked their way down. Silvia cried out. She thrashed her head back and forth. She tried sawing at the vine with the one dagger, but could only chip away through her maddening fit of tickles. Silvia knew the situation would only get worse. She hoped and relied on the boot’s alleged ability to stay on, or at least, keep her feet safe.

“Naaaahhhhahahahhahahaaaa!!! Noaaaaahahahah!!! Staaaahahahahahahap!!!” Silvia squealed through her wishful thinking. The two new vines slithered down her legs. They poked around at where her boots met her calves. Persistently, they prodded for a way inside, sensing the ticklish nerves waiting to be exploited. Both entered the leather boots and continued downward. The vines coiling against her ankles gave just enough slack to allow the new vines to inch down toward her feet. Silvia whimpered. She thrashed more in her ticklish hysteria, making a desperate effort to get free, accepting the fall as her way out. Steadily, the vines slipped past her ankles and met her heels. The feathery tips worked their way inside of her socks and began tormenting the delicate skin in the area with their ticklish effects.

“Neeeeeeeeeeeeaaahahahahahahaaaa!!! Get aaaaahahahahahahout!!” Silvia squealed. The two vines at her midsection continued working over the area, focusing heavily on her navel and sides. The two within her boots began to brush their feathery tips against the sides of her feet, slipping them down to meet her soles. Silvia yelped a loud, ticklish cry. The hairs across the vines tickled where they touched, leaving itchy tingles across her calves and ankles. The worst, as she expected, was down at her soft, humid soles. The tips wiggled and scratched with finger-like precision. While the fine hairs tickled lightly, the feathery tips left highly concentrated tickles exploring her most sensitive areas.

“STAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHPPP!! PLEHEHHAHAHAAASEE!!” Silvia threw her head back, bellowing wild, ticklish laughter. The sensation down at her feet bloomed through her whole body, leaving her senses screaming and her mind only able to focus on the tickles. She still managed to hold onto the dagger, but her efforts to use it to free herself had been halted. As the feathery tips of the vines scribbled across the soles of her trapped feet, Silvia thrashed her head side to side. Her hair loosened, her cheeks burned a bright red. Tickles overcame her from more angles than she could manage. Her feet tried to scrunch defensively, but as the vines remained in her boots with them, there was little they could do to protect themselves.

“NA NA NAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! STAAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEEAHAHAHAHSE!!!” Silvie knew the floral beast would not be swayed by begging, but her mind raced with few options with which to preserve herself. The feathery tipped vines stroked against her soles. Enriched by the sudden burst of tickles from the area, their efforts became highly focused. They sensed that Silvia’s feet were her most ticklish spots and fed well off of her ticklish energy. Silvia had no means of protecting her feet. The vines held them effectively in place, keeping her from being able to kick the tickling vines away. She could only twist in the air and laugh endlessly.

The vines absorbing the ticklish energy from her feet feathered her soles fully. They scribbled down to her heels and stroked up her warm, plush arches. They wiggled without stopping for minutes on end, Silvia’s composure weakening by the second. The vines scattered their ticklish hairs all across her soles. The thicker areas of the vines used their fine hairs to keep riddling her soles with tickles while the tips sniffed out the particularly sensitive nerves from her toes. There was nothing that Silvia could do to keep them from reaching her digits. The feathery tips snarked up to her squirming toes, starting to brush just outside of the pads. Siulvia could only scrunch and keep her toes curled, but such efforts seemed pointless against the sheer volume of their overwhelming ticklishness.

“NAAAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!! SAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAA!!!” Silvia could only scream with laughter. The vines feathered their tips against her toes, brushing side to side. The digits within her boots stayed curled for as long as they could stand the constant feathering, but eventually yielded to shake the sensations, if only for a second. When Silvia’s toes uncurled, the vines slipped in. Their feathery tips wiggled underneath Silvia’s bubbly pads. They plunged between each of her toes as they squirmed, feathering the highly ticklish webbed spaces. Silvia threw her head back, howling through the hysteria. Tears filled her eyes. Her cheeks ached, her heart pounding in her chest. The vines worked fueled by her ticklish plight. They scribbled and feathered from her ribs down to her toes, leaving the young queen thrashing in the air and shrieking with heavy, desperate laughter.

More vines appeared to start snaking through the treetops toward their ticklish prey. Silvia’s body pulled against the coils holding her captive, both as reflex and as conscious attempts to free herself. Tickles poured through the girl’s body. They blinded her thinking, absorbing her energy, and reducing the queen to just a giggling, cackling husk for them to feed on. Silvia felt every single brush of the vines. Their hairs tickled her skin wherever they slid. The tips scribbled like fingers into her most sensitive areas. They feathered endlessly inside her navel and down in between her toes. They pinched at her belly and brushed up and down her soles. Bursts of tickles pulsed through her tiny body. She laughed and bellowed and cried for help. When her laughter started to become weak and tired, the vines still continued feeding off of her ticklish energy, apathetic to her exhaustion and dwindling composure.

Even through the unbearable tickles from the Featherland’s most natural forces, Silvia still tried to cut herself free with the dagger. She picked at the same spot over and over again, trying to cut through just the one vine from which she could easily slice the others. However, more hungry vines closed in on her from all sides. Silvia hung within the disoriented confines of the Featherland woods, lost in the stomach of a beast prepared to tickle her senseless. She hurried as best as she could, seeing in them the dangerously mischievous nature as she faced in the pixies. She had to act, tickles or not. Silvia forced her hand steady. Despite holding the dagger at an uncomfortable angle, she kept chipping away at the vine holding her wrist. The others continued tickling across her sides, belly, soles and toes. Her body burned with tickles. It took all of Silvia’s concentration to free herself before the other vines could get to her.

All of the vines began to slow. The ones tickling her steadily held in place, leaving behind only their tickly hairs to keep Silvia in mild giggles. The ones holding her wrists and ankles no longer tugged her tight. The rest refrained from approaching. Silvia looked around puzzled by what had become of her ticklish trap. A strange cold rushed through the vines, a change that stopped them completely. Ice ran through and across the green tendrils at a mystical rate. It cracked across the surface, leaving each as still as stone in place. Silvia kicked one leg. The vines around it steadily began to shatter. Her leg became free from both the vine coiled around her ankle and the other lodged inside her shoe. She kicked at the other to the same effect.

As she freed her lower body, her weight held up by the remaining vines worked to break through their hold. The icy tendrils cracked and broke the girl free. Before she knew how to approach the situation, Silvia was already on a swift plummet toward the ground. She shrieked and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the fall. As she readied herself to make contact with the hard, unforgiving ground, she was met with a softer stop.

“Got you,” said a familiar voice. A pair of arms held her aloft, her bag still hanging onto her shoulders. Silvia opened her eyes just as she was being let down to her feet. She brushed herself off and turned around. Her eyes adjusted through the teary fatigue, squinting in disbelief.

“Paul?” Silvia asked. The boy stood before her, wearing the same cloak from the days prior. He kept his hood down and scanned the area cautiously. From his boots, trails of ice frosted across the ground toward the trees, traveling up each.

“Yeah,” Paul said with a heavy sigh. “Sorry about the cold. That’s just to stop the garlianas from spreading.” Silvia stared skeptically back at the boy, still slowly catching her breath. She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it out of her sweating, burning face.

“Wha…. wait…” Silvia stuttered. Paul pushed past the girl, starting off toward the path.

“Come on,” Paul said. “Shouldn’t stand around. We can talk on the way.”