FUMA'S WHISKERS! (Patreon)

She was stunning, and she was looking for me!  I decided I wasn't going to let this particular lowfolk femme get the better of me.  I would take charge of this situation immediately!

"Hey beautiful," I schmoozed as I pooked right next to her and turned on my charm.  "What brings a nice femme like you out in the middle of a hostile forest like this?"

"Uh," she said, clearly dazzled by my Wiles.  "Don't you remember me?  I'm Oak Marten, whom you turned into a little girl all those years ago."

"Aw crud," I grumbled.  "You're that annoying one who's obsessed with hair."

"That obsession paid off, Your Lordship," she chuckled.  "I invested the gold doubloon you gave me into a small beauty parlor with a chair and a sink .. and with these glorious curls which you also gave me, customers began to flock to my shop and I'll soon be adding my third chair and sink.  Yes, my dreams have mostly come true."

"Well, good for you," I sneered.  "And no, you're still not allowed to braid my hair.  Why are you here?  Your instructions were not to return until I called for you."

"Well, I've been spreading the word about Lord Ramble the Wish-Granting Hair Elf in my shop.  Rowan and Poplar have also been proselytizing in their own way.  People are interested; we've got a respectable and well-coiffed little cult going .. but they are starting to get antsy.  They want a personal appearance or a small miracle.  At the very least they expect a magical shampoo & conditioner."

"Have you been telling people my name is Ramble?" I asked.

"Let me finish," Oak insisted.  "Our cultists are growing impatient, and meanwhile a rival cult has sprung up, led by Crazy Old Jerry.  They wear shoes on their heads and claim that the white elf Ramble is a gorgeous snow-vixen who bestows shoes on the faithful.  It can't last, but right now it's hurting our operation.  So I left Rowan and Poplar holding down the shop while I came to find out if you'd forgotten about us."

"What are the odds that I would happen to look outside on the very day you showed up?" I mused.  "Have you been here long?"

"Actually this is the fourth time I've come out here looking for you," Oak sighed.  "I was almost ready to give up, but you turned my life around and I owe you for that.  I used to be an honorless mercenary thug, but now I'm a respectable businessfemme.  The thing is, it's getting harder and harder to reach this stone circle.  The forest gets thicker and tulgier every time .. and those meddlesome rabbits with their humorless religion have built their settlement right on the edge of the forest and have made it their mission to keep everyone else out.  They think we perform devilish rites or something."

"Why are you telling everyone my name is Ramble?" I inquired.

"Isn't it your name?"

"No."

"But we made a sign, and uniforms, and everything.  The bedtime stories about your gallant hairdressing adventures!  The rousing songs!  The pop-up books!  Ramble's a household name in Tulgeyside."

"Well that doesn't do much good when I'm really -" I started, then thought better of it.  "No .. I don't think I'll be telling you.  I'll just keep that a secret.  Ramble will do for now."

"SIRE!" my Ixies called as they buzzed out of the dolmen.  "Thou really shouldst warn us ere thou jumpest twixt worlds!  We had to follow thee as quickly as we could, lest we be separated by a dire time-slip!"

"On the plus side," Typantronn chuckled, "I did win a tidy bundle of aphids."

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