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Ferah had gone down to stand on the dock, searching for peace and sanity in the big lake’s waves.

The three gnomes (Redrue, Sangfroid, and Plangeduc) had arrived later than expected (the next afternoon) because they hadn’t acccounted for the distance from the ferry landing to the cottage, the tourists refused to give them a ride, and the island residents had looked at them askance and retreated behind closed doors.

Ferah decided to let their late arrival go, as the gnomes had done some hunting on their long trek and brought in game which they were now cooking on the Weber grill she normally kept stored under the eaves of the house.

Since they’d arrived well after the dawning hours that were best for fishing, she decided to send them ALL out at sunrise the next morning, now that she knew in what corner of the shed Montay sheltered, and that she herself could shelter by masking her presence from Jimann; it was one of several new talents that had  revealed themselves after her naming day.

“Ahem,” Rockmouse cleared her throat, having approached Ferah on silent feet, and added “Not checking up on you, but…is there room for another beleaguered soul in your haven?”

Sighing, Ferah sat and patted the wind-bleached planks of the dock beside her.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2026)

(To be continued)