Stuffie Quest (Chapters)

Beartholomew stirred as his Little rolled over in her sleep. She mumbled something sleepily, likely dreaming. As always, he was curious about what her dreams held. Unfortunately, he knew little about the Stuffie-Art of Comfortication. Even if he thought his Knight, Alanna, would allow him to enter Briana’s dreams, he lacked the ability.

For a time he lay still, listening to see if Briana would say anything else that would give a hint to her dreams. Alas, she had fallen into a deeper sleep, and said no more. Beartholomew hopped to his feet and stretched his stubby plush arms. He might not be able to magically connect with his Little, but his fur was new and soft. There would be plenty of passive comfort magic available to her. All he had to do was get back into her arms without waking her up.

A flash in the sky caught his glossy black-plastic eye. Through the window, he could see a shooting star. It was a bright one too, lighting up the clouds overhead. Another star flashed brightly, and another. It could be stuffies traveling to visit Cloudland, but using a shooting star was not something often done. The effort involved would leave the Littles of those stuffies tired and crabby in the morning.

Two more shooting stars flashed into the clouds. Something strange was going on. Beartholomew shuffled to the edge of Briana’s adult-crib, where a splinter lay hidden next to one of the bars. In a matter of moments he had his paw caught on it, yanking a thread free.

Teasing the thread out further, Beartholomew coaxed it off the splinter and wove it into a pattern in front of him. Threadmaturgy caught the brown line and spun it about, twisting it into shapes and symbols that only a learned stuffie could interpret.

The signs were very bad. Beartholomew felt squished in his torso, as if he’d been stepped on. He read them again, to be sure that he was seeing correctly. The Scissors, The Gum, and The Tearing. Combat, curse, and wounding, respectively. Only the last sign was not dire. Even so, The Cardboard Box was a mixed sign. It could mean a new adventure, or imprisonment.

Something was going on in Cloudland. Something big and important. There was no word from Alanna, which meant she either couldn’t respond, or was deliberately leaving him out of it. In the first case, he had a duty as her squire to render aid. In the second, he planned to bunch his stuffing up over his eyes in the biggest frown a bear without stitched-eyebrows could make!

Since he had been charged with cuddling Briana, he had to find a stand-in before he could go. A quick look around the crib showed no other stuffies there. Olga, a fine orca stuffie, was close enough on a shelf by the crib.

Beartholomew hailed her. “Olga! I need you to take over on nighttime snuggles!”

“WHAT HO!” Olga boomed. “How can I assist you, young Beartholomew!”

Being padded inside, stuffies didn’t normally get headaches. Beartholomew was sure that Olga would give him one someday. Thankfully, no stuffie-voice could wake a little.

“I just said!” Beartholomew replied impatiently. “Come over here and snuggle Briana. I need to get to Alanna.”

“Oh?! Is there some DASTARD afoot?” Olga demanded, launching herself atop the crib rail.

“I don’t know! That’s what I have to go find out.” Beartholomew said. “Just hurry! She’s dreaming and we don’t want it to be a bad one.”

“I don’t have LEGS, dear boy!” Olga proclaimed, rolling down into the crib. “You’ll have to heave me up there.”

“Fine, just hold still.” Beartholomew gripped Olga’s fuzzy tail, only stagger back at her shout.

“Watch yourself!” Olga exclaimed. “GOOSED! I’ve been goosed by a bear!”

“I did not – just, give me your flipper!” Beartholomew grabbed Olga’s flipper and tossed her as gently as he could.

“HERE I COME, BRIANA MY SWEET!” Olga bellowed.

Beartholomew winced, sure that his rash throw would wake his Little. Thankfully, Briana only made a soft sigh when Olga landed on her. In a moment, she had both arms around the orca, holding her tight.

“Thank you Olga.” Beartholomew said. “I’m going now.”

“Godspeed young Beartholomew!” Olga whooped. “A safe and MAGNIFICENT journey to you!”

“Thanks…”

Beartholomew leapt through the crib bars, quickly scaling the shelves until he was on the windowsill. Such was his hurry that he almost didn’t wait for the moonbeams to solidify into a stair. His first few steps were dizzying, the rounded ends of his legs sinking into the misty moonlight stair. After that it was smooth going, with Beartholomew charging up the stairs with all the boundless energy of a newly purchased stuffie.

When he burst onto the cloudscape, there was no question about where he should go. Every stuffie currently on the clouds had gathered in front of the great cloud castle. Alanna was on the steps, having just finished some sort of speech. She had already turned away, through the castle’s doors of snow and rainbow.

He vaulted onto the gathered stuffies, running over them as if they were a laundry pile. Angry and confused exclamations popped up in his wake. Calling out pleas to be excused or forgiven as fast as he ran, Beartholomew scampered up the steps and slid to a stop behind his knight.

“Beartholomew.” Alanna said, in her deep roaring voice that shivered Beartholomew’s stuffing. “I didn’t send for you.”

“You’re going on a quest!” Beartholomew accused. “You’re planning to leave me behind!”

“How did you…” Alanna’s gaze caught the unraveled thread on Beartholomew’s paw. “I see. Beartholomew, you are brave. I’m pleased that you want to help so much. But this is a quest for Stuffies Primary only.”

“Of course it is.” Beartholomew said stubbornly. “Stuffies Primary, and their squires if present.”

“What’s going on?”

The questioner was a new stuffie, a ginger-furred-bear armed with sword and shield just as Alanna was. His arms were tenne, a heart stitched argent. He looked friendly, but he had the worn fur and gravitas of a Stuffie Primary. He had decorative stitching on his well-loved fabric to match the heart on his shield.

“My squire is insisting on joining us.” Alanna said. “I apologize for the delay, Sir Ginger. It will be just another moment.”

“Why shouldn’t he join? He need not fight in our final battle, but he seems eager and brave.” Ginger said.

“We don’t know when that battle will be.” Alanna said. “I would not expose anystuffie to our foe, if they cannot shield themselves.”

“If I can’t come on quests with you, what good is it to be your squire!?” Beartholomew asked heatedly. “So I’m not a Stuffie Primary! So what? I don’t love Briana any less. I’m no less brave.”

“Beartholomew, you don’t know what the danger is…” Alanna began.

“I will watch over him.” Another rumbling voice, deeper even than Alanna’s.

Several stuffies were coming to them from deeper inside the castle, the one who had just spoken leading the way. They were a green dragon, armored in leather and stout looking. Their arms were purpure, a lighting bolt or.

“Sir Shacklebolt, your offer is generous. I don’t know that we will be able to protect ourselves, let alone my squire.” Alanna said.

She was exasperated with everyone here, Beartholomew could see. Maybe she was even afraid. Ordinarily he would back off before making her really angry. Tonight he couldn’t. The signs had been more dire than anything he’d seen before.

“He seems oddly insistent. Have you asked him why?”

This time it was a red fox that spoke. His arms were, vert, two fox ears tawny. He must be proud of his big ears to put them on his shield. They were very fluffy looking. Beartholomew was a bit jealous, if he was being honest. His own ears were stubby, hardly big enough to have any stuffing in them.

“I have not, Sir Hamlet.” Alanna said. “It should not matter…”

“I cast a thread before I came up here.” Beartholomew said. “The signs are dire! Please, Sir Alanna. I don’t want anything to happen to you. What will become of Briana if you don’t come back?”

Alanna sighed. Well, it was meant to be a sigh. It was more of a very low, rumbling roar. Beartholomew cowered back. Perhaps he had pushed his knight too far. This wasn’t at all how a squire should act. He had sworn an oath to obey the lioness. On the other hand, he had also sworn an oath to fight at her side!

“You are a threadmaturge?” Asked a long pink stuffie that Beartholomew had taken for a snake at first. “So am I. Tell me what signs you saw.”

Beartholomew bowed to the long pink knight. He could see now that they were a cat. Their arms were purpure and rose, a puzzle counterchanged.

“I saw three terrible signs, and one mixed.” Beartholomew said. “The Scissors, The Gum, the Tearing, and finally The Cardboard Box.”

There was a lot of muttering at that. The assembled knights looked at each other with expressions of concern and calculation.

“You saw me cast the threads three times tonight.” Said the pink cat to Alanna. “Even in direct moonlight, my divinations were blocked. If your squire’s divinations are still providing signs, we could use him.”

“Your point is well taken, Sir Strawberry.” Alanna replied. “However, because this could endanger us, I will not make a unilateral ruling on this matter. We will put it to a vote of our assembled knights. Should my squire be allowed to accompany us? I vote no. The danger to him and to the mission is too great.”

“I said I would watch over him and I meant it.” Said Shacklebolt. “I vote yes.”

“His divination is valuable, but will not protect him against what we’re facing.” Said Sir Hamlet. “That divination only makes it seem more dangerous. I will defer to the stuffie that knows the squire best. I vote no.”

Beartholomew mashed his paws together anxiously. Only one more knight had to vote no for the vote to be deadlocked at best. A tie probably meant the status quo, which would mean he couldn’t come.

“I think we could all use a stuffie who’s divinations aren’t blocked.” Said Strawberry. “It’s clear that he loves his Knight and wants desperately to come with her. I vote yes.”

“It’s not always clear what a stuffie’s worth is until it is tested.” Ginger said. “But I like Beartholomew’s spirit. I vote yes.”

Still as a stone, Beartholomew looked to the last stuffie, the one that hadn’t spoken yet. Everyone was all looking to him. He was a brown rabbit and his arms were rose, an easter egg festive. The colors on the egg matched the various accents on his paws and ears. He was either thinking or being dramatic, but either way, he did not immediately respond.

“Sir Alanna.” Said the rabbit. “Why did you choose Beartholomew for your squire?”

“I didn’t, Sir David.” Alanna said, “Though that is not to say that I am displeased with him. He has served admirably as my squire. It was our Little, Briana, who assigned him to me.”

“Then I vote yes.” David said. “We may be Stuffies Primary, but we should remember that all stuffies are special. If a Little has put her faith in this bear, I will too.”

“YAY!” Beartholomew leapt into the air. “I won’t let you down, noble sirs, I swear it by my stuffing!”

Alanna sighed. There was a grim arc to the stitching of her mouth. “Fetch your sword and shield, squire, quickly. We have no time to waste on this quest.”

Even faster than his panicked run to catch up to Alanna, Beartholomew sprinted to get his gear. He had no arms on his shield yet. Someday he would be knighted and bear honorable arms like his knight, and those he’d just met. Perhaps if he distinguished himself on this quest!

Despite Beartholomew’s haste, the other stuffies had not waited. He found them in a back area of the Cloud Palace, standing before a dingy wooden grate set into the wall. Skidding to a stop, he saluted them.

“Thank you for your haste, Beartholomew. We do not have time to explain the quest to you before we leave, you will have to be informed along the way.” Alanna said. “What is important for you to know in this moment is that we cannot go directly to our destination. For this quest we travel through The Woodwork.”

“Sir Alanna tells us that you have never traveled this way before.” Shacklebolt said. “It is a dangerous realm, you must remain alert.”

“The Woodwork is always changing.” Strawberry said. “Stay close to us Beartholomew. We don’t want you to get lost.”

With a swipe of her mighty paw, Alanna pried open the wooden grate. The hole inside was cobwebbed, dusty, and dark. With the fearless grace of a lion, Alanna strode in. Shacklebolt followed her. They were probably Alanna’s equal in physical prowess, perhaps even stronger. One by one the stuffies entered the passage, with David and Beartholomew bringing up the rear.

There was no choice but to get covered in dust. Beartholomew lamented his now-dingy fur. He’d always been one of the cleanest of Briana’s stuffies, owing mostly to the fact that Jane had given him to her. In the darkness of The Woodwork, there were few sources of light. Items discarded or lost by littles seemed to gleam a little.

Beartholomew trod unsteadily on a missing sock. It had not been providing any light. He wiped dust from his plastic eyes in an effort to make the most of the softly shining Legos and forgotten toy cars that were scattered about.

Alanna was boldly leading them, taking branching paths without hesitation. Beartholomew couldn’t see why she would choose to enter the rickety wooden boards over the punched-through sheetrock. One had splinters, the other more dust. They clambered over a metal furnace conduit and squirmed their way through tarnished copper pipes. As they wormed their way past cloying pink fiberglass insulation, Beartholomew decided he had to ask.

“How does Sir Alanna know where she’s going?” He asked David. The rabbit was the closest stuffie to him, and had been the deciding vote.

“She doesn’t.” David said softly. “There will never be a map made of The Woodwork. It is the realm behind every furnace vent, within every wall, under every floorboard. With practice, a stuffie can learn to navigate The Woodwork to travel to other houses. The passage we take or the boards we climb aren’t important. What is important is fixing your destination single mindedly in your thoughts.”

“So all I have to do is imagine a place, and I can get there?” Beartholomew asked.

“If you are lucky, or skilled, or both.” Ginger said, lagging back a bit to join the conversation. “It takes practice to be able to navigate this place. It’s dangerous too, so that practice is hard to get.”

“What’s the danger?” Beartholomew asked, nervously putting his paw on the hilt of his sword. “I haven’t seen anything besides a spider or an ant.”

“If luck is on our side…” David began.

“TO ARMS!” Roared Shacklebolt. “Foes are upon us!”

“For the Honor of Cloudland! For Trebond! For the Goddess and the Queen of Clouds!” Alanna roared. She held her sword aloft and it blazed with light.

Belatedly, Beartholomew drew. All the other stuffies already held their blades ready. In the light of Alanna’s sword, Beartholomew beheld horrors. Creatures of The Gloom, nightmares from under a Little’s bed, or the depths of their dark closet.

One was a spindly thing, like a spider but multiplied, all legs and fat dark globs. Another had a face of charcoal and a gleaming, rictus grin. Beartholomew fell back before a heavy, squat creature with a blocky torso, massive arms, but no head.

All of them were dark. Shadows shifted over them like falling water. Though Alanna’s sword had well illuminated the plank they were walking on, and the insulation bordering it, the light had barely touched the Gloomlings.

“Stand fast!” Shouted Hamlet. “Take it like a drill. Support the knight by your side.”

“I will weave a binding.” Strawberry said, ascending to the next plank up with a mighty SPROING! “Hold them until I can finish the casting.”

David and Ginger closed ranks next to Beartholomew. He realized his sword had been shaking. It steadied now, and he curled his stitched mouth up into a smile.

“For the Honor of Cloudland!” Beartholomew shouted. “For Briana!”

Grimly, Ginger and David invoked the names of their Littles. Beartholomew was confused. He couldn’t see how many were up front, but there didn’t seem to be many more Gloomlings than there were stuffie knights. Surely the danger was not so bad.

With a horrible scrabbling, rasping sound, the insulation bulged outward. Beartholomew cursed his rash tempting of fate. As a threadmaturge, he should have known better. The bulge strained larger and larger, until it burst open. Dozens of Gloomlings poured forth. They were vile and vicious things, full of sharp claws to cut cloth, covered in thorns to catch threads. There were some that flew on ungainly wings; others crawled along the walls. Even others hopped, while a few skittered like bugs.

They hadn’t been in The Woodwork an hour and already there was a horde of monsters on them. The other stuffies were holding fast, turning to face the new threats. Beartholomew wasn’t sure how they were managing to hold in the face of so many horrors. Every bit of fluff inside of him was screaming at him to run.

Only, he couldn’t abandon his knight. Not even if she was mad at him. Not even if she had told him not to come. Clasping his sword in both paws to stop its renewed trembling, Beartholomew braced himself for the onslaught of the horde.