The ogre glared, but refrained from comment. “Forest it is. But you can tell master why we’re late.” The ogre settled down, stretching its legs before it, feet almost touching the fire. “Sleep.” he commanded. “Long ride tomorrow. No rests then.”

The light never reached the forest floor in the same condition that it hit the uppermost leaves of the forest canopy. It was green filtered in places and dappled hazy yellow in others. Some trails were so gloomy, and the moss that covered the ground so brown, that it was doubtful that the sun ever reached the lowest recesses. There were hints of paths, but they seemed mostly to be game trails, although very little sign of large animals was to be found. Birds frequented the trees though, and butterflies swarmed with abandon. They were everywhere, large as kites and tiny as newborn moths. The ogre and his smaller followers swatted at them in irritation, but Alex was amazed. He had seen his share of tropical jungles in the pacific, but even the most uncharted had been nothing compared to this. He had never seen trees so tall, so huge in circumference. Never seen so many explosions of color in the petals of the flowers that dug their roots into the soft wood rooting limbs and moss covered trunks. Tiny frogs and lizards often darted across the path, or froze in their hunting for food to stare at the passing intruders. The birds called down at them from the branches indignantly.

They had given up riding some time ago, when the path became too snarled for the passage of mounted riders. The ogre forged the path ahead, slicing vines and foliage out of the way with his mammoth ax. Alex and Victoria walked behind the spriggan, the goblins bringing up the rear with the horses. She clutched his hand, her fingers tightening occasionally, either to receive comfort or to give it. She stared at the glory around them in awe, often nudging him to silently point out some spectacular bird or clustering of butterflies. When they spoke, they cast their voices low, out of the ogre’s hearing. The sporadic discussion they were having was a repeat of what made up most of the morning’s conversation.

“How can there be such a thing? A portal between worlds...it’s fantasy.” She was scrutinizing the spriggan’s misshapen back as she whispered this. They seemed to be taking turns arguing the reality of the situation.