Phoenixes sat on perches outside some of the lodges. Some preened as they cleaned their beautiful feathers and fluttered their wings. Others were missing large clumps of feathers and sat with their heads down like stooped over old men.
Tiny chicks peeped as they accepted food from the older, more vibrant ones. The phoenixes in their prime possessed red bodies with striking red and orange wings and tail feathers. A golden tuft of hair stood on top of their heads.
As they passed, one of the older ones fell off its perch. Before it hit the ground, it erupted into flames.
Brokk stopped as the last ash fell onto the pile that had accumulated on the ground. He smiled when a small peep sounded from the pile's center and a tiny head poked out. At first, the phoenix’s eyes were closed; then they opened to reveal its beautiful, amber eyes.
When it released another peep, he almost saidawwas his heart melted a little. Then he recalled where he was and stifled his amusement. Any sign of weakness in this place might get him killed.
He threw his shoulders back a little and glanced at Sahira, who was staring at him with amusement.
He pretended not to notice as he glanced around. “What kind of an outer realm is this? All the ones I’ve been to have been barren chunks of rock with little or no life on them.”
“This is the land of crones. Witches love to grow things, and the crones have been making this their home for hundreds of years.”
“Where are all the crones?”
She frowned at him. “We’ve passed a bunch of them.”
“We have?”
He looked behind him, but he didn’t see any crones there. When he turned back to Sahira, she wore that amused expression again. At first, he found it cute; now, it was becoming annoying.
“I know the term crone brings to mind ugly, stooped, old women with warts on their faces, but witches are immortal too. They’re not about to cast spells over themselves to make them age, even after they come here to retire,” Sahira said.
Brokk chose to ignore her grin as he started walking again. He refused to acknowledge he’d been so focused on his image of a crone that he hadn’t stopped to think they were immortal and would therefore look young.
He didn’t look at Sahira as he took in more of the realm. On the other side of the lake, a family of sasquatch emerged from the thick foliage of the woods.
The father had to be at least nine feet tall, while the mother was a little smaller. Their two children barely came up to their waists but were probably five feet tall.
The parents sat and drew the kids toward them; they settled their young in their laps before plopping their enormous feet in the water. The children munched on tree branches while their parents worked the mats from their thick, brown fur.
“How did all of these magical creatures end up here?” he asked Sahira.
“Most of them are outcasts from their realms, or they left for some other reason. They all possess things commonly used in witches’ spells, so the crones invited them to live here where it is private and safe. It’s a win-win for all involved.”
“Interesting,” Brokk murmured.
They snaked their way through more of the lodges until they came across one at least three times the size of the others. The white canvas stretched taut over the poles sticking out from the top was painted with different sun and moon symbols. Streaks of color, runes, and other witch symbols also marked the canvas.
“Here we are,” Sahira murmured.
Five phoenixes sat on a perch outside the open flap. The fire beneath the cauldron had died out, but whatever was inside still bubbled as they passed it. A pixie landed on the planter beside the entrance.
Herbs overflowed the container. The pixie giggled as her wings fluttered, and she smiled coyly at Brokk before settling her wings into place. A trail of orange dust fell at her tiny feet. Most pixies were only three to six inches tall; she was no exception as she stood about four inches tall.
“Hi, cutie,” she said in her tiny voice and blew a kiss at him.
Brokk held out his index finger to her, and she clasped it in her minuscule hands. She gave it a small shake.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said.
She giggled again and rested her cheek against her shoulder as she batted her lashes at him. Her orange eyes shone with merriment, and her apricot hair fell to her shoulders in tight ringlets.
“You too,” she said in a voice that barely carried to him.
She released his finger and flew away as Sahira ducked to enter the lodge, and Brokk followed. He’d barely taken a step inside when a voice boomed.
