Page 15 of Search for the Lost

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Crispin

Crispin had been walking for days.

Or had it been just minutes? It was so hard to tell in this strange place. It was always/never the same as they passed the valleys/mountains under the burning heat/freezing cold of the frigid breeze/scalding stillness that defined the world. Hades indeed.

On the one hand, his Leo mind kind of liked the chaos, the constant back-and-forth, the sweet cinnamon smell of sour garbage that invaded his nostrils.

But his poor little orderly Crispin soul was wearing thin at the edges.

He’d long since given up pinching himself when his mind wandered. Those brief mental excursions took him away from the white/black sky and the dry/humid air forced into his lungs with each breath. “I’m so tired I could gouge my eyes out.”

Another square appeared in front of them.

“Good one, Crispy.” Leo patted him on the back. He seemed to be handling his new orderly Crispin mind much better than Crispin was coping with the gurgling rambles of Leo’s gray matter.

“No, I really meant it. I’m exhausted.”

The yellow square wavered, as if it couldn’t decide if he was being hyperbolic or actually did intend to plunge a knife into one of his eye sockets. Or maybe into both.

Crispin wasn’t so sure himself.

“No, this can’t be right.” Cypher’s fawn ears were flattened against the back of his head, as if he sensed danger. Or was just really elfing annoyed. The poor distraught faun’s tail twitched like a dying sparrow as he paced back and forth across the narrow width of the trail, madly scribbling on a pad of paper. “It’s that one and that one, next to the other one that’s not next to it at all, if you get what I mean….”

Aspin glanced at Crispin with a raised eyebrow, as if to say Are you seeing what I’m seeing?

Crispin shook off his exhaustion and put a hand on the faun’s shoulder the next time he drew near. Cypher looked up, startled, his doe eyes blinking rapidly. “It can’t be.”

“What’s wrong?” Crispin wished he’d thought to bring some water and snacks on this little quest, but it had never occurred to him that they’d be going somewhere without decent refreshments. Like those delicious crumpets that Mrs. Turtlerump baked fresh every morning⁠—

Leo kissed him on the cheek, breaking the Chaos thought cycle.

Crispin grinned, a little life coming back into him. So much nicer than a pinch.

“It’s just not right.” Cypher was staring at his notebook.

“What’s not right, exactly?” Crispin frowned. There was an increasingly long list of things that might fit that description.

“Look!” Cypher held out the open page, where there was a bunch of scribbles that made no sense to Crispin.

“Is that a warthog?” Leo was looking over his shoulder.

Crispin squinted. “No, I think it’s more of a horned hoarbear. They lose their horns in the second winter⁠—”

“It’s not an animal. I don’t think.” Cypher pulled back the notebook to stare at it, blinking rapidly. “Or it’s not supposed to be. It’s a sketch of where we landed in this… infernal world.”

Maybe hell’s the place where nothing is certain anymore. Crispin shuddered. “All right, so, what does it mean?”

“It means we haven’t moved an inch since we got here.” He pointed at a pile of Thing stuff that was simultaneously preening for attention and trying to fade into oblivion. “That’s the exact—whatsit—that I was staring at just after we landed.”

Crispin stared at the bit of fluffy stone. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. It’s my job to take note of the thousand little details that need attention every day, things that would otherwise escape your attention, and to know where all the bodies are buried.” His tone said that Crispin’s body might be next—even though it was inside Leo’s body—if he persisted in doubting his poor, put-upon assistant.

“All right. I’ll take your word for it.” He could ask Thea to verify, but she’d been erratic and unusually snarky of late, and Crispin just didn’t have the energy. “So… all that walking…?”

“For nothing.” Cypher’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t true. I’ve been trying to make it not true for the last half hour.” He put a warm furry hoof-hand on Crispin’s shoulder.