Stuffie Quest (Full Book)

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.

Beartholomew fell back before the press of the Gloomlings. Everywhere he looked, there were nightmare creatures. They were of many shapes and colors, though all the shapes were sharp and all the colors dark. One was black with an oil-slick shine to it’s cruel mandibles, while another was a leaden red color, bursting with thorns.

They packed The Woodwork passage, scrabbling over the boards and discarded toys, shoving each other in an effort to get at the stuffies. Locked in on one side by sheetrock and planks, on the other by paper-covered insulation, the stuffies had nowhere to retreat.

It was all he could do to keep his sword in his hands and his cloth-skin whole. Beartholomew turned from enemy to enemy, managing at most a slash that bounced off the woody texture of the Gloomlings. The other knights were brightly-colored blurs around him, shouting battle cries as their swords whistled through the air.

Out of the chaos, a massive roar made the combatants pause, Stuffies and Gloomlings alike. Shacklebolt used the moment of hesitation to smash a large, headless Gloomling with their blade.

Beartholomew’s heart thudded painfully in his stuffing to see that Gloomling and two more of the larger nightmares descend upon Shacklebolt. To his amazement, the dragon stuffie not only withstood the attacks, they were pushing their opponents back. Fighting not just with sword, but wings and tail too, Shacklebolt had all three of the bulky Gloomlings fighting just to keep from being overwhelmed.

A creature shaped like a bird, but with quills in place of feathers, swooped down on Beartholomew. He blocked its beak, but felt a leg tear, as the wing raked sharp spines down him. Every swing of his sword connected, severing or shattering quills. Each time he earned at least one more puncture. He was losing the exchange quickly, especially given that this was just one out of several dozen nightmares.

Out of nowhere, Ginger was at his side. He sent a bat-shaped Gloomling spinning away from him and pointed a blunt paw at Beartholomew’s foe. Cotton fluff rose from Ginger’s paw, striking the spiney crow like a torrent of liquid. The fluff was everywhere on the creature, tangling it’s spines in a hopeless mess.

“Thank you!” Beartholomew shouted. He drove his sword point down into the creature’s head with a satisfying crunch. The sack of fluff that Ginger’s Fluffmancy had created, sagged as the Gloomling dissipated into a mildewy mist.

“Think nothing of it!” Ginger said jovially, as if he were merely playing, rather than engaged in deadly battle. “Keep your sword moving in big sweeps against that type. It’ll make some distance for you!”

Beartholomew nodded and turned to the next foe. This one was smaller, all jaws and legs like a bullfrog with a bear-trap for a mouth. The less bear-traps in the world, the better! A massive overhand blow dispatched that one as well and restored Beartholomew’s confidence. He wasn’t a bear stuffie for nothing. His round body was strong, in addition to being huggable.

“Well done Beartholomew.” Hamlet called, from atop a chunk of wood. “Move to your left, press them on that flank. Sir Ginger, keep up with that Fluffmancy, slow them down on the right as much as you can.”

“Understood!” Ginger said. He turned and sent a massive flow of fluff into the foes.

“Yes Sir!” Beartholomew said.

There wasn’t time to salute, he’d do that later. In the moment, he waded in, laying about with his sword two-handed. It was gratifying to see the Gloomlings falling back, some dashed into mist, others merely retreating from his blade.

Before he realized what was happening, Beartholomew found himself deep into the enemy ranks. He tried to back up, but the Gloomlings were already closing in at his sides. A vicious creature with arms like rusty scissors stepped into the gap, cutting off his retreat and completing the surround.

He’d hardly had time to feel afraid, before David came flying over the battle and smashed his powerful feet into the scissor-armed Gloomling. Without missing a beat, the rabbit stuffie grabbed Beartholomew’s arm, pulling them both back to the group with another powerful leap.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I got sep….” Beartholomew trailed off, as David was already gone.

A Herculean jump carried David up the wall, where Gloomlings were crawling up to intercept Strawberry before they could complete their ritual. A flurry of kicks sent them tumbling down the walls, but David was already in motion, leaping down to assist Hamlet.

The two of them fought back to back, using the high ground of the wooden block to lay down a steady beat of blows against the nightmares. Taking a cue from them, Beartholomew returned to his space-clearing sweeps with more discipline.

It seemed like they were going to win! Between Ginger and himself, their questing group had cleared out some space to fight next to Hamlet’s high ground. Hamlet had his sharp eyes and ears on the battle, calling out threats and tactics. The stuffies responded as if they’d been comrades for years. David’s legs were still carrying him wherever he was needed, while Shacklebolt still had the biggest Gloomlings locked down before their onslaught.

A sudden worry gnawed at Beartholomew. Alanna was unaccounted for. Desperately searching between blows, he finally spotted her on the other side of Shacklebolt. She was a whirlwind of sword and claw, shredding the lesser Gloomlings that were trying to flank the valiant dragon.

It was odd that there should still be so many of them, given the rate at which Alanna was smashing them. Beartholomew knew he had accounted for at least ten himself, and wounded many others. Hamlet’s strikes were precise and deadly. David never landed anywhere that he didn’t dispatch at least one Gloomling.

Even so, the foes were pressing in more thickly than before, if anything. Shacklebolt had beaten great cracks and slashes into their foe, but had paid for those with a multitude of rips and small cuts. The air was thick with Gloomling mist, and still they flowed from the hole in the insulation.

Beartholomew set his stitched mouth in a hard line. He would fight to the last. None of these brave knights would see him falter. He loved Alanna, but if she released him, he’d be proud to squire for any of his comrades. With grim determination and a deep bear growl, Beartholomew hewed at the Gloomlings with all his might.

A tangle of threads fell from above. Beartholomew nearly slashed at it before he realized it was Strawberry’s binding. Only Bartholomew’s own experience with Threadmaturgy kept him from staggering into a tangle and getting caught up himself. The threads drifted to waist height and suddenly tightened. They snared the mass of small Gloomlings, packing them into a spikey ball of angry horrors.

To Beartholomew’s amazement, Strawberry’s binding was two spells in one. At the same time that the Gloomlings were rounded up, threads stitched their way across the tear in the insulation. They yanked closed with an authoritative motion, sealing the rift.

Freed from the need to fight a never-ending horde, the other knights turned to Shacklebolt’s foes, dispatching them before the big monsters could realize that the tide had turned against them.

Strawberry bounded down from their high perch to oversee the dispatching of the remaining mob. All the Knights, as well as Beartholomew, carefully aimed sword thrusts into the thread tangle, taking out the Gloomlings one or two at a time. As they did, Strawberry kept the threads pulling taut so that none could escape.

With a great sigh, the stuffies took their rest on the battlefield. Beartholomew checked his fur over. He was riddled with holes from his fight with the spiny crow, and had collected a number of other tears he hadn’t noticed at the time. Bits of fluff were poking out all over him.

Everyone was wounded in some way, except for Strawberry. Not that Beartholomew envied the pink cat. They were pulling great masses of thread back into themself. Using so much thread had nearly had Strawberry coming apart at their seams.

“You did well, Beartholomew. I’m proud of you.” Alanna said in a pleased rumble. She was one of the worst injured of all, peppered with tiny cuts, and a portion of her mane sliced off.

“You told me stories of Gloomlings, but I never expected there would be so many of them.” Beartholomew said. “Thank you, Sir Alanna, but I’m sorry for insisting that I come. I panicked at the start of the battle. If Sir Ginger hadn’t helped me against that spiney crow, I’d be a pile of cloth and fluff now.”

“Nonsense.” Ginger said. “You were giving as good as you got.”

“I didn’t have to intercept for you any more than I did anyone else.” David said, rubbing Gloomling dust out of his ears. “I’d fight alongside you any day.”

“Well said!” Shacklebolt and Hamlet said in unison. They grinned broadly at each other and laughed.

“There’s still the matter of why your divinations work when mine don’t.” Strawberry said, slinking down next to Beartholomew to give him a hug. “I think the answer to that may prove to be the key to our quest, or at least a great advantage our enemy doesn’t expect us to have.”

“Thank you, Sirs.” Beartholomew clutched the hilt of his sword bashfully. It was hard to reconcile the terror and confusion he’d felt with the compliments of the experienced knights.

“Nor was it a sign of inexperience that you were surprised at their numbers.” Alanna said. “There can be no doubt as to the veracity of the message I received. We are facing Orthodox Dominion, and he knows we are coming.”

Beartholomew’s fur turned cold, worse than the time Briana had taken him out in the snow. He knew little of that name, except that it was forbidden to speak it. Invoking the name Alanna had spoken was considered dangerous, even if one were standing in the temple at the Cloudland castle.

None of the other stuffies flinched to hear the name, though they all looked grave. Hamlet stood up, running his paws over his ears.

“We knew that was likely the case from the beginning.” Hamlet said. “There’s not much more we can do in the way of precautions.”

“We could fill the squire in.” David said. “Beartholomew is looking at us all with a face full of questions.”

“It’s a good time for a rest.” Alanna said. “Beartholomew, Ginger, please coordinate your Threadmaturgy and Fluffmancy to heal everyone.”

“In the meantime, we’ll fill Beartholomew in on our foe. We can’t afford not to, as much as we’d rather not speak of him.” Shacklebolt said. The other knights nodded reluctantly. It was obviously still a distasteful topic, even if they weren’t afraid to say or hear the name.

“Orthodox Dominion isn’t a creature of The Gloom.” Shacklebolt said. “He is a manifestation of the impulse in all humans to reject and bully those who are different.”

“He defends the Status Quo.” Hamlet said softly.

“Supports oppressors over the powerless.” David added.

“He’s not a stuffie or a nightmare. He’s not a toy, a Little, or a Big. He’s a creature of magic and dreams. Specifically, the dreams of all the small-minded and fearful people of the world.” Strawberry said.

“Even a Big can have difficulty dealing with Orthodox Dominion, or his agents.” Ginger said. “For a Little, it can be devastating.”

“What happened to the Little that we’re questing to help?” Beartholomew asked. It was good to be concentrating on closing up the tears on Shacklebolt’s cloth while they talked. It kept him from fully dwelling on what the knights were saying.

“I know not by what foul sorcery,” Alanna said. “But Orthodox Dominion took the Little’s littleness away from him. He’s Big now, and not by his choice.”

“No!” Beartholomew shouted before he could stop himself, quickly covering his mouth with a paw in apology.

“We will not let it stand.” Shacklebolt said. “As Stuffies Primary, we can wield Sympathmagy to give us a powerful connection to our Littles. With six of us here, I can’t imagine a curse we couldn’t break.”

“That’s why there were so many Gloomlings.” Alanna said. “Normally we could have dispersed the smaller ones with the power of a happy Little’s heart. Only the large ones would have been a danger.”

“But if we’d done that, it’d tax our Littles.” Hamlet said. “They have their limits, and Orthodox Dominion is dangerous even to Bigs. We have to save their intervention for the curse.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to come.” Beartholomew bowed his head apologetically to Alanna. “I can’t help break the curse, and it’s probably dangerous to face Or… face the enemy without Sympathmagy.”

“It is dangerous.” Ginger said. “But not impossible.”

“I would change my vote now, if we held it again.” Alanna said. “Be at peace, Beartholomew. I’m glad you’ve come.”

“What’s to stop the enemy from sending more and more Gloomlings until we’re overwhelmed?” Beartholomew asked. “I don’t want him to, but if he knows we’re coming, and he’s so dangerous, what’s stopping him from sending the whole Gloom after us?”

“He’s not supposed to believe in such things.” Strawberry said. “Magic and wonder, even the fearful kind, aren’t supposed to be real to Orthodox Dominion or his helpers. He can only access creatures like that in a roundabout way, and never on the Earth.”

“Then, maybe there’s a reason we haven’t been doing this, but why aren’t we traveling faster?” Beartholomew asked.

“We have to be cautious.” Alanna said. “If we started running, we could go headlong into another ambush.”

“No, not running.” Beartholomew said. “Sir David said that it doesn’t matter what path you take through The Woodwork, only that you keep making progress. We have so many skilled Stuffies here. Sir Strawberry and I could build a glider with Sir Ginger’s help.”

The knights looked surprised, but not upset or dismissive. They were even waiting for him to keep speaking. Eagerly, Beartholomew continued.

“There’s so much space up above us.” He said. “We could fly through the passages.”

“By the Littles, it could work!” Shacklebolt said.

“I’ve only ever traveled The Woodwork on my own.” Hamlet said. “Beartholomew is right. It would be even faster if we used the furnace vents though. Normally we avoid them because of the wind, but it would be to our advantage now.”

“Thank you, Sir Hamlet!” Beartholomew said. “You’re as wise as the other fox I was friends with at the store.”

“I’m a Fennec, if you please.” Hamlet said, kindly. “You’re plenty wise yourself. I was only building on your idea.”

“We’d have to have a way to decide on a direction, and act on it.” Alanna said. “Without purposeful travel, we’ll just wander The Woodwork forever.”

“I can use my wings to steer.” Shacklebolt said.

“I can jump to a wall and back to make bigger course corrections.” David said.

“I think we have a working plan.” Hamlet said. “What do you say, Sir Alanna?”

“As long as our Threadmaturges and Fluffmancer are confident that they can build the glider and keep it intact with seven stuffies on it.” Alanna said. “Then I agree.”

“It shouldn’t be much of an effort with three of us on the job.” Ginger said. “Now for the hard part, deciding on the glider’s color.”

“Pink!” Strawberry said immediately.

“Well brown is a good color.” Beartholomew ventured.

“I’m partial to my fur color too.” Ginger said, laughing. “You think we can find shades of pink and brown thread that won’t clash with orange fluff?”

“If we can survive a horde of Gloomlings, we’d better be able to!” Beartholomew declared.

All the stuffies laughed. With the lightening of the mood, the last of the miasma from the Gloomlings faded away. While the rest of the knights stood watch, Beartholomew, Strawberry, and Ginger set to work on the glider.

Before long, they were aloft on a cute patchwork creation, each stuffie secured with a well-stitched strap, even David, though his strap was on a long ribbon. As they soared into a dented furnace vent, Alanna ignited the light in her sword again. A blast of hot air caught them and sent them sailing into the darkness.

Beartholomew kept his paws carefully on the guide-threads he’d built into the glider. Filled with renewed purpose, he was determined to keep the craft not just afloat, but strong enough to make use of every bit of furnace air. Despite the terror that opposed them, the brave knights alongside him were not afraid. He would have to be brave too, and help them hurry to save the Little.

A trip on the ramshackle glider was the stuff of Little stories. The furnace vents gave way to stovepipes, attics, and crawlspaces without rhyme or reason. Each time the passage split or opened up to a larger space, Alanna would call out a direction and the stuffies would coordinate to steer.

Shacklebolt, actually Wingsley Shacklebolt, Beartholomew had learned as they flew, would use mighty wingbeats from their dragon wings to alter their course. Finer adjustments came from Strawberry and Beartholomew, through the threads they’d conjured to shape the glider.

Occasionally those efforts would not be enough to push them to the passage that Alanna’s intuition said they should take. David the rabbit would leap fearlessly out, rebounding off a wall and crashing back to the glider for a massive push.

All the while Ginger the bear and Hamlet the fennec were preparing some kind of warding magic to shelter them when they arrived at their destination.

It would have been grand to say they arrived in fine style, with a swoop and a tip of their caps! Of course, it was rarely the case that stuffies were so coordinated and suave.

All the warning they got was Alanna roaring, “We are leaving The Woodwork!”

The glider crashed headlong into a vent cover, popping it off the wall and sending the stuffies spilling out into a stranger’s house. Fluff and threads went everywhere as the glider came apart. Beartholomew managed to pull in his threads without entangling any of his companions. They bounced lightly on the carpet and rolled up into alert stances.

It was night, but the house was not properly dark. There were lights on in the kitchen, the bathroom, and what looked like a bedroom. Before Beartholomew could get his bearings any further, a hulking shape emerged from that bedroom.

It was, to Beartholomew’s relief, not a monster. It was just a Big. Though, as he approached the group, he seemed a particularly grim Big. He was wearing a dingy gray t-shirt and gray shorts. His whole body was gray, in fact. It took Beartholomew a third look to realize that the Big was fairly young, for a human. He walked past the stuffies without registering them at all, pouring himself some coffee and returning to the room he’d emerged from.

“Do you suppose that’s the Caregiver?” Strawberry asked.

“I doubt it, unless the curse has fallen on them too.” Hamlet said.

“Look how gray he was.” Ginger said sadly.

“What do you mean?” Beartholomew asked.

“To the eyes of a stuffie, humans have color in proportion to their imagination.” Wingsley said.

“Or at least interesting contrast.” Alanna said. “My Little’s Caregiver is gothic, but not washed out like that.”

“So that Big has no imagination?” Beartholomew asked. It seemed impossible. Everyone had a little imagination, didn’t they? He hadn’t seen a completely colorless Big yet.

“That’s not a Big!” The voice came from above, shrill and squawking. A raven stuffie flew down to land nearby. “That’s my Little!”

“You would be Bridget.” Alanna said. When the raven nodded, the lioness set her mouth grimly. “Then it is as bad as you said in your message.”

Ginger and Strawberry hurried to hug Bridget, squooshing her soft fuzzy body between them.

“Thank you.” Bridget said. “For the hug, and especially for coming. There’s a thing in the house, in the office. It used to be a nursery, but my Little’s Caregiver moved out of the house. First the nursery was gone, then he was doing work all the time. Finally, that – thing showed up and he stopped being Little at all!”

“Don’t worry.” Wingsley Shacklebolt rumbled. “We will set this right.”

“Tell us about the creature.” Hamlet said. “What did it do to your Little?”

“Some kind of terrible magic!” Bridget said, flapping her wings in worry. “It was in the computer at first, but it came out into the room and cursed him. Now it carries Tanner’s paci with it all the time.”

“We will need to get that pacifier.” David said softly.

“How?” Bridgit squawked in distress. “I tried once, and look at my foot!”

She held up what should have been a plush, well-stitched foot. It was withered and floppy, with all the stuffing gone out of it.

“When Orthodox Dominion cursed your Little, he cut you off from the special connection between you that would have shielded you from his evil.” Alanna said.

“I’m his Stuffie Primary!” Bridget whimpered. “But I can’t do anything to help him! He’s sad all the time, but he doesn’t even cry! He won’t look at me or hug me. I – I failed him.”

“No, of course not.” Ginger said, while Strawberry wrapped themself entirely around Bridget in a big hug. “You have been very brave, and you summoned us to help your Little.”

“Here he comes.” Hamlet said.

Beartholomew turned, fearing that their enemy was upon them. It was only the former-little, though. Tanner walked down the hall, still blind to the stuffies there. Too late, Beartholomew realized that the other stuffies had let themselves fall or roll out of Tanner’s path. Beartholomew was still stock in the middle of beige carpet when Tanner’s foot booted him away. The stuffie flew and tumbled, teetering at the top of a stairway.

Tanner had not noticed at all. He simply set his coffee cup down in the kitchen and turned out the light.

“Going to bed already?” The voice was dry and heavy, like lead.

A slim figure had stepped out of the office. Pale skin and a bald head framed beady eyes and a severely narrow nose. His jowls dangled from his chin, despite the gauntness of his frame. The creature wore a perfectly starched black suit with a slate gray tie. His knuckles were knobby; his hands liver-spotted.

“It’s almost two am.” Tanner said with a sigh. There was no resistance in his voice, just fatigue.

“What will your supervisor say if the report isn’t done? Better to finish. It’s not like you really need more than three hours of sleep.” His voice was unctuous and insistent.

Tanner shrugged. “I guess so.”

He trudged back to the office, closing the door behind him. The creature was left behind in the hall.

“Orthodox Dominion!” Wingsley Shacklebolt bellowed. “Release your hold over that Little at once!”

“Little? I see no Little.” Orthodox Dominion said with a sneer. “Tanner is productive now. What I do see are a bunch of discarded toys that should be disposed of.”

“You cannot stop us all.” David said with firm conviction. “We are all Stuffies Primary.”

“Every one of us is a Sympathmagus.” Strawberry said, rising to their full, long height.

“Release Tanner and spare our Littles the effort of banishing you.” Hamlet said.

“Oh? So you are Sympathmagi?” Orthodox Dominion smirked. “Once perhaps that mattered. No longer.”

“Enough! We do not negotiate with such evil!” Alanna rose to her feet and brandished her sword. “Orthodox Dominion! I banish you in the name of Cloudland, by the power of Briana Tess Rasmussen, she who is the Queen that was Lost!”

Beartholomew gasped. Briana, his Little, was Cloudland’s Queen? He had to cling to the top stair as a blast of rainbow magic blazed out of Alanna. It poured around her like whirlwind, blasting hot air away from the Lioness like a the furnace winds that had carried them here. The power collected in her sword and shot toward Orthodox Dominion in a spike of multicolored brilliance. Everystuffie held their breath at Alanna’s display of raw power.

Orthodox Dominion held his hand out to meet the blast. Power that would have vaporized a thousand Gloomlings stopped abruptly, exploding in a spray of rainbow sparks. As they looked on in shock, Orthodox Dominion opened his gnarled hand to reveal a pacifier. The shield of the paci looked like rusted iron, while the ring and nipple were Mr. Yuck green. Beartholomew’s stuffing recoiled at the sight of it.

“Tanner’s Little Heart is here, every bit of his former delusions of innocence and playfulness.” Orthodox Dominion said. “You cannot oppose a Little with your own Little’s magic.”

The stuffie knights backed up, forming up around Bridget. They had their blades out, but Beartholomew couldn’t see what good it would do against such a huge, terrible creature. He couldn’t draw his own blade, he couldn’t even move from the top of the stairs.

“Such bravery.” Orthodox Dominion said, with vicious scorn. “You are not knights, or living creatures at all. You are merely bits of cloth and fluff. Garbage, not fit even for the thrift store bin!”

Orthodox Dominion brought his foot down, smashing and scattering stuffies. Sharp kicks sent the knights flying, though they swung their swords with determination. The last to be booted was Bridget, every knight had stepped bravely up to protect her despite the hopeless odds. The raven went flying directly at Beartholomew. She crashed into the bear, sending them both tumbling down the stairs.

The door to the basement slammed at the top of the stairs with a sound like a stone sarcophagus lid. Beartholomew heard the cries of the knights upstairs, then horrible cloth-tearing sounds, then silence. Shaken to the core of his fluff, he curled up in a ball and wept.

Tears gave way to outrage. It was not FAIR. Orthodox Dominion was evil, awful, and he had no right to do what he was doing. Imbued with life by a Little who valued family and justice above all things, even her own safety, Beartholomew rose to his stubby feet.

“Bridget, are you alright?” Beartholomew asked.

“Of course not!” Bridget sobbed. “We lost!”

“No.” Beartholomew said. “I won’t allow it.”

“Are you crazy?” The raven squawked. “You saw what that monster did.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Beartholomew said. “Alanna is Briana’s Stuffie Primary. She WILL be there for Briana tomorrow. Every one of these stuffies is going home to their Little. David is going to wake up with you in his arms.”

“HOW?” Bridget cried.

“First we have to get out of this basement.”

Beartholomew heaved himself up the first stair, scrambling up the carpet. It was awkward and slow, but he refused to give up. By the time he was halfway up, Bridget had calmed her tears. When he reached the top, she flew up to meet him.

The door was firmly closed. Try as he might, Beartholomew couldn’t scrabble up the wall to reach the knob. Bridget could reach it easily, but her withered leg left her without enough leverage to open the door.

“We could try going into The Woodwork.” Bridget said.

“No, that could take forever. We don’t have much time.” Beartholomew said, kicking the door with a  soft bump. “If I was a real bear, I could reach the knob easily, or just knock the door down!”

“I’ve been a real Raven.” Bridget said, her voice soft and sad. “When Tanner believed in me. But that’s Sympathmagi magic. I can’t do it now.”

“Briana has believed in me before.” Beartholomew. “Maybe I can do it.”

“You’re not a Stuffie Primary.” Bridget said. “Neither am I, anymore. Only the Primary Stuffie has that close a connection to their Little.”

“Since when do the stories of Littles follow strict rules?” Beartholomew asked. “Tanner needs us. Bridget, please. Believe in me.”

“That’s even more backwards! Stuffies don’t believe in stuffies! Littles believe in stuffies!”

Beartholomew didn’t answer. He put his paw-stubs over his eyes and concentrated. Memories of being played with filled his mind. Briana walking him across her adult-crib, making silly roaring noises. Melody shaking his paw, holding him up as if he were as tall as a bear. Veronica waving his paw at Briana and doing a low rumbly voice as Briana fell asleep.

A plush wing pressed gently against Beartholomew’s back. “My, what an enormous bear!” Bridget said.

The stairway spun and shifted. Beartholomew pulled his paws away from his eyes to see that everything had shrunk around him. He was huge, wooly, with flashing claws at the end of his not-so-stubby paws. Without hesitation, he slapped the doorknob and shoved his way forward.

Orthodox Dominion was still in the hall, holding a serrated bread-knife over Alanna’s torn-open body. Beartholomew roared, a real, thunderous bear roar and flashed his gleaming fangs. The knife fell from Orthodox Dominion’s hand, and the creature retreated, falling back to the bedroom. The door slammed and locked.

Beartholomew’s sense of triumph was short-lived. He found himself stuffie-sized, tumbling out of the air to bounce off the carpet.

“Alanna!” He cried out, scrabbling on stubby legs to reach his knight.

“That was amazing!” Bridget squawked. “He ran from you!”

“I couldn’t hold it though!” Beartholomew said. “Please, Bridget, do you know any Fluffmancy? I can repair the rips, but I can’t replace her stuffing.”

“I’m sorry Beartholomew.” Bridget said. “I’m only a Comforticator, without Tanner being Little. I don’t have much magic now. It was a miracle that I reached Alanna at all.”

“Then we’ll do what we can. Find the others! Sir Ginger first.” Beartholomew said.

Bridget flew off. It didn’t occur to Beartholomew that he’d given the other stuffie a command until she was already away. He hoped Alanna wouldn’t be angry at him for rising above his station.

Frantically, he waved his paws over Alanna’s shredded cloth, stitching her back together. There was so much damage! His own threads were getting thin, his joints missing stitches as he poured magic into his knight.

“I feel terrible. But it’s pleasant to not be dead.” Alanna said in a soft rumble. She tried to rise, and only managed to flop. “Though I see my stuffing is gone. Thank you for the rescue, Beartholomew. What is the situation?”

“Bridget is finding the others, Sir.” Beartholomew said. “I told her to find Ginger – er, Sir Ginger first.”

“You’ve done exactly right.” Alanna said. “I’m proud of you. Take me with you, we need to get out of this hallway.”

Beartholomew picked up Alanna’s floppy body. It hurt him to see her so diminished. It obviously hurt her too, but she wasn’t complaining. A squawk from Bridget set his course. At first he was overjoyed to see Ginger’s orange fur, but his heart sank when he saw how much stuffing the other bear had lost.

Nevertheless, he set Alanna down and set to repairing Ginger. By the time he was finished, his limbs were loose and wobbly. One of his eyes was no longer tied on, he tucked it into his fluff to keep it safe.

“Sir Alanna, Squire Beartholomew, thank you.” Ginger said. “How are the others?”

“Bridget is bringing them here.” Alanna said. “But I fear we are all critically lacking fluff.”

“This is a carpeted apartment.” Ginger said. “We have as much fluff as we need. Observe!”

Ginger’s sparse fluff flowed all into one of his arms, bulking it out to it’s proper shape. That arm rubbed the carpet vigorously, tearing off bits of fabric. Those bits flowed into Ginger, until he popped out into his fully plush self.

Bridget swooped by, dropping Hamlet and circling away. Beartholomew set to patching the fennec immediately, consuming the stitches on his left arm entirely. A shield was likely to be of little use against Orthodox Dominion anyway. He tucked the arm into the seam that had opened up on his side. Meanwhile, Ginger was ripping away at the carpet, filling up Alanna first, then Hamlet.

“Thank you Beartholomew.” Hamlet said. “But you need to stop with the Threadmaturgy. You’ve almost come apart yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Beartholomew said. “This is what I can do to help. I can get all the Stuffies Primary back in fighting shape.”

“Very noble of you!” Strawberry said, dropping from Bridget’s grasp, “But we need more live stuffies than brave martyrs. I had Bridget show me where the sewing kit is.”

Beartholomew gasped in excitement as Strawberry uncoiled to reveal three full spools of thread.

“Think we can do something with these?” Strawberry asked with a huge smile.

“Brilliant, Sir Strawberry!” Beartholomew said.

David and Wingsley Shacklebolt arrived by Bridget’s rescue service, while Strawberry and Beartholomew set furiously to patching the group up. By the time they’d finished, the thread spools were empty and a big patch of carpet was decidedly bald.

“We’ve been given a second chance by my squire’s heroics.” Alanna said. “We mustn’t waste it.”

“We could try a concentrated blast of Sympathmagic.” Ginger said. “The power of five littles might overwhelm just one.”

“I’m not so sure that Sympathmagi works that way.” David said. “Even if it did, it could hurt the Little’s hearts, as if they had an argument.”

“Maybe we can steal the Paci by stealth.” Hamlet said. “Then find a way to break the curse on it directly.”

“We’d still need a back up plan in case the stealth fails.” Wingsley Shacklebolt said.

“There has to be something that monster is afraid of. Something we could use to make it back off.” Strawberry said.

“He was afraid of Beartholomew!” Bridget said.

“He was?” Alanna asked in wonder.

“Oh uh, I was in bear form. Um, imagination bear form.” Beartholomew said. “But I couldn’t sustain it.”

“How?” Wingsley asked. “That’s Sympathmagi magic. Even then, the Little has to be present.”

“I don’t know.” Beartholomew said. “I just thought I had to do something. Bridget told me it wouldn’t work, but why should there be rules to Little stories? They make up new rules all the time!”

“Imaginesis?” Alanna whispered.

“Only Littles have that power.” Hamlet said. The rest of the knights nodded.

“I know what I saw.” Bridget said. “He was a huge bear and the monster ran away from him!”

“It’s the best option we have now.” David said. “Try again Beartholomew.”

Beartholomew set his stance and covered his eyes. He imagined Briana playing with him again. Nothing. He dug up memories of Melody playing with him, Gary, Veronica, Jane, even Suzie. Still, nothing. Finally, he pulled his stumpy arms away from his eyes to see the hopeful knights he was going to have to disappoint.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I did it last time.” Beartholomew said. “I don’t feel it at all.”

“Is there anything different about this time from last time?” Hamlet asked.

“Uh, Bridget helped me. She believed in me.” Beartholomew said.

“Er… that’s not completely true.” Bridget said awkwardly. “I just um, encouraged you. I was able to reach Tanner with my Comfortication while he was daydreaming.”

“Dreams!” Wingsley shouted.

“What?” Strawberry asked.

“That’s it!” Ginger said. “Sir Shacklebolt, you are a genius. Dreams are pure imagination. Tanner must still have some imagination left in his dreams.”

“Can you reach your Little?” Alanna asked Bridget. “It must be very late, is he asleep?”

“I…” Bridget fluttered, doing a hopping dance on her good foot. “I think so.”

“Use whatever strange alchemy you used before.” Strawberry said. “Bring Tanner’s dreams to Beartholomew, or he to them.”

Bridget hopped to Beartholomew and wrapped her wings around him. He hugged her back, imagining with all his little stuffie heart. A chill went through his fluff. What if it didn’t work? He hadn’t realized that only Littles had magical imagination. He’d always played along with Briana, thinking he had imagination too.

The embrace with Bridget was warm and tingly, like the excitement of Briana coming up with a new story to play. Once again, he asked himself why there should be such rules. Pushing his fear aside, he embraced the feeling.

The spinning, shifting sensation returned. He was looking down on the stuffie knights with Bridget on his shoulder. A massive bear, his shoulders pressed against the living room ceiling. Or did they? The ceiling was a high cathedral-like affair, far above the reach of any Little on the floor. Beartholomew rose to his full height and roared.

“Magnificently done, Beartholomew!” Alanna shouted. “You can take the fight to Orthodox Dominion now!”

“No.” Beartholomew rumbled. “We ALL can.”

On his shoulder, Bridget screeched in alarm. He felt her grow heavy, a ruffle of feathers tickled his ear. A Raven beat her powerful wings and cawed in amazement. Alanna stood, rising higher and higher. Powerful muscles rippled under tawny fur. Ginger’s eyes came up to Beartholomew’s level, his shaggy fur beautifully offsetting his kind eyes and gleaming fangs.

Strawberry flowed longer and more broad, until they were a shimmering magical pink cat of pythonic length. David was nearly lost in sudden forest of huge legs, growing merely to jackrabbit size. The merest twitch of his legs hurled him explosively to a wall and up to Ginger’s shoulder. Wingsley Shacklebolt dwarfed them all, massive wings spreading out over the group. A draconic bellow heralded a blast of glorious golden fire. Lithely stepping out from under those wings was Hamlet, deftly twirling his sword in hand.

“I don’t know how long I can hold this.” Beartholomew rumbled. “I’m not even sure how I’m doing it.”

“Then let us waste no time.” Hamlet said. “For Glory!”

“For Tanner!” Bridget called.

“For the Littles!” The rest of them cheered.

The hallway was now a great cave tunnel. The bedroom they burst into was a Colosseum, by Beartholomew’s choice. Orthodox Dominion stared at them and his new surroundings in disbelief, clutching the stolen paci to his chest.

“Impossible! You wretched creatures and your foolish imaginations have no power over me! I am of Reality! I am the banal truth that all must acknowledge when the book is closed!”

“You acknowledged us.” David said, soaring like an eagle with a massive jump that carried him behind Orthodox Dominion.

“You spoke to us, engaging us directly.” Hamlet said, moving light on his feet, his blade spinning.

“Now you will deal with us in all the glory that a Little can summon.” Strawberry said, curling into a spring and sproinging to cover the right flank.

“Orthodox Dominion.” Wingsley Shacklebolt said. “We banish you from this place.”

“Bears to the front!” Alanna roared.

Ginger grinned at Beartholomew. They charged together, eschewing swords for powerful arms. Orthodox Dominion screeched as he was crushed in their terrible embrace. With a horrible cracking sound, he wormed his way free and stumbled away on crippled legs.

David was there in an instant, his jump too fast for eyes to follow. He rolled and kicked, knocking one of Orthodox Dominion’s hands upwards. Hamlet moved in and severed that wrist with a sound of shredding plastic. The hand flew aloft, releasing the pacifier held within. Bridget grabbed it out of the air, screaming as smoke rose from her good foot.

Beartholomew returned his gaze to their enemy. Strawberry had already surrounded Orthodox dominion, spinning their body around the monster. As they did,  they sent a tangle of threads inward to trap him. A blast of fire, gold as the sun, engulfed the tangle of monster and thread. With a final wail, Orthodox Dominion collapsed into greasy smoke.

Staggering in relief, Beartholomew realized he was beyond tired. He could feel Bridget’s pain through whatever connection she had established. The dream that was fueling his bear-form was falling out of his grasp.

Once again, the stuffies fell to the floor in an ordinary room. This time, they were cheering! Without need for discussion, they each reached out to touch the pacifier. Beartholomew did as well, for solidarity’s sake.

Each of the stuffies called upon their little, glowing with soft rainbow colors. Beartholomew invoked Briana’s name as well. Some warmth answered inside him, but there was no glow in his paw. It didn’t matter.

The rusty iron and Mr. Yuck green vanished from the paci. It was restored to pink and purple, innocent and inviting.

Reverently, they helped Bridget to Tanner’s office, the paci in her beak. The poor Little was asleep at his computer, notifications pinging at him on Slack. The stuffies climbed to the desk and watched with bated breath as Bridget nudged the pacifier into Tanner’s open mouth.

With a snort, he rose, chewing on the pacifier. He looked around and blinked, touched the pacifier with a sort of cautious awe. Tanner’s eyes fell on Bridget and filled with tears. Color flowed back into his body, giving him sandy brown hair and a Hawaiian print shirt.

“Bridget!” He cried out, grabbing her up and crushing her close. “Bridget I’m so tired. I can’t get the report done, I don’t know what to do.”

“Call in sick!” Bridget squawked.

Tanner’s eyes opened wide. “Right! I think I need a break.”

He fired off a message and closed his computer. With Bridget tucked under his arm, he dug in the office closet, pulling out a pair of diapers.

Beartholomew and the rest of the stuffies giggled as Tanner shucked his pants right there, mooning all of them. They gathered up and hopped off the desk, leaving Tanner and Bridget to their reunion.

—–

Back in Cloudland, after a much more peaceful journey through The Woodwork, Beartholomew waved sadly to the knight stuffies. He’d only known them a single night, but already felt like they were bosom companions.

“We couldn’t have done it without you.” David said, giving Beartholomew a hug.

“A braver stuffie I have never known.” Ginger said, crushing them both in a massive bear hug.

“Wise beyond your years.” Strawberry said, wrapping around Beartholomew when Ginger disengaged.

“You are a credit to your Knight.” Hamlet said, ruffling Beartholomew’s ears. “I hope your Little knights you soon.”

“I think we will see great things from you. Perhaps a Stuffie Primary, one day.” Wingsley Shacklebolt said.

“For that to happen I’d have to leave Briana.” Beartholomew protested.

“You’ll understand when you find your own Little.” Wingsley said.

“We have shooting stars prepared for you all.” Alanna said. “If you think your Littles can handle it.”

“Our Littles are going to need such a nap tomorrow!” Ginger chuckled, “But it’s the fastest way. There isn’t much night left.”

“Goodbye, brave Sirs!” Beartholomew said, waving frantically and wiping tears away with his other paw.

“Fare you well, Sir Alanna, Squire Beartholomew.” They said together, waving their paws.

Light swelled up in the clouds underneath the visiting knights, shooting them one by one into the sky on sparkling stars.

“That was quite the first quest you had.” Alanna said to Beartholomew. “You exceeded all possible hopes. I don’t have words to say how proud I am of you.”

“Thank you Sir.” Beartholomew said. “But you know I’d never leave Briana, right?”

“Never say never.” Alanna said. “While we were breaking the curse, your eyes sparkled rainbow.”

“What?” Beartholomew rubbed his glossy black eyes with his paws.

“Indeed. You may be a Stuffie Primary yourself one day. We’ll see. Until then, we have a Little to get back to.”

“She’s going to be cranky with all the magic we used.” Beartholomew said. “Especially all that Sympathmagic you used.”

“Then we had better snuggle her twice as hard in the sleep time she has left.” Alanna said, with a rumbling chuckle.

“What was that about her being a Queen?” Beartholomew whispered.

“You caught that, did you?” Alanna asked. “I’m sorry, I cannot give you any details. Indeed, I must bind you to secrecy on this matter.”

“You can count on me, Sir.” Beartholomew said, though he was still burning with curiosity.

“I know that I can. Now find us a good moonbeam to get back to Briana on!”

“Yes sir!” Beartholomew laughed, racing his Knight back to the moonbeam stairs.

Alanna watched her Little, Briana, as she fell into a deep sleep. She smiled fondly, the dark brown embroidery of her lips curling. It had been strange at first to be called as the stuffie to an adult baby girl. Mere days into her life with Briana, Alanna realized that her Little had as great a heart and clever an imagination as any stuffie could want. Briana’s love had even elevated Alanna to the status of Knight Captain of Cloudland, though the lioness had only been a Stuffie Primary for less than a year.

She shook out the felt strips of her mane and walked over to Briana, putting a sturdily-stitched paw on the girl’s chest. Alanna’s Little was breathing slowly and evenly. Her heart was at peace, and her dreams were pleasant. Alanna looked around the bedroom. To the eyes of a mere toy or a big, they would have been ordinary for a bedroom-turned-nursery. In the sight of a Stuffie Primary, they were as solid as the strongest stone fortress. Reinforced by unconditional love for Briana, the walls could withstand even the most dangerous denizens of The Gloom. There were no cracks in the protection tonight, no worries or anxieties in her Little that might allow a nightmare in.

Satisfied that her Little was protected, Alanna lept to the top of Briana’s crib, then to the window in a graceful flowing motion. High in the sky were whisps of cloud. Thin coverage, but enough to make the journey. She put her will upon a shaft of moonlight and it became a glimmering stair rising to the clouds.

In a flash of tawny yellow, Alanna bounded up the moonlight stair, letting out a roar of exhilaration. Higher and higher into the sky she climbed, until the lights of the town of Ardenthill twinkled like fireflies below her.

A great many of those lights had a magical corona surrounding them. Ardenthill was an impressive bastion of Littles. So much so, that it had become famous among stuffies the world over. Alanna had to visit Cloudland nearly every night now, simply to keep up with the flow of messages and emissaries.

Her paws left the stair and trod upon silvery cloud. The moon beamed full and bright above her, bathing all the clouds in soft light. It was always a full moon in Cloudland at night, always a blazing sun in the day. At the top of the clouds, it was a realm of light, where no Gloom creature could ever tread.

Alanna’s squire was waiting for her with her equipment ready. A deep chocolate-brown bear, he had a fat tummy and longer than average stuffie-fur. Beartholomew helped Alanna into her red tabard and buckled on her shield. Taking a two-legged stance, Alanna looked down at her shield and smiled. Her arms were gules, a lioness rampant, or. With her sword buckled on, Alanna felt ready for the mantle of Knight Captain again.

“Thank you Beartholomew.” Alanna said. She pitched her voice soft, but there was still a leonine grumble in it that made it carry. It made it a bit harder to have private conversations, but it was handy for her position of authority.

“My pleasure, Sir.” Beartholomew said. “Things are quiet so far tonight. Tommy is requesting a seat at the Round Table again.”

“He’s always welcome in Cloudland, especially as a Stuffie Primary to a friend of Briana’s.” Alanna said. “But he can’t join the Round Table unless one of the Littles knights him.”

“I know that Sir. Tommy should know it by now too. He’s asking again anyway.” Beartholomew said.

“In other words, you would like me to talk to him.” Alanna said, with a rumbling chuckle in her chest. “Where is he?”

“He’s at the pond, trying to win Periwinkle over.” Beartholomew said. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I can handle this. It’s a quiet night, I don’t think I’ll need a squire.” Alanna said. “If you like, you can take the stair down and snuggle Briana tonight.”

“Thank you!” Beartholomew said eagerly. He bent over to grab his toes and rolled down the stairs like a fuzzy brown ball.

Alanna laughed at her silly squire. Briana would be well-snuggled now. Both those things made it easier to face the stubborn Tyrannosaur. Setting out across the clouds, she passed the silvery palace of sweets and the fancifully tree-shaped music hall. Just past the hall’s Lego-bark-clad trunk was Cloudland’s pond.

It was a new addition, and very pretty. Cloud swirled around in a bowl until it merged into silvery and rainbow water. Periwinkle, a blue-yarn-haired mermaid, was doing circles on her back in the water while Arthur’s great red Tyrannosaur loomed over her.

“It’s just that as a Stuffie Primary I think I should automatically be a knight.” Tommy said in his high, squeaky voice. “And I’m sure that Briana meant to knight me the last time I was over at her house. She was JUST about to, when Veronica came in for a diaper-check.”

“Mmm hmm!” Periwinkle nodded enthusiastically. From Alanna’s vantage, the mermaid had a pilfered pair of Briana’s earbuds in. The poor Little had been looking for those for a week.

“Tommy, it’s good to see you again.” Alanna said, letting out the full sonorous volume of her voice.

“Captain Alanna!” Tommy hopped excitedly around the pond on his massive paws. His tiny nub-arms were spread out as far as they could go, which is to say that they didn’t even clear the width of his body. “But surely you meant Sir Tommy, right?”

“No, I spoke truly.” Alanna said. “Only Littles or the Queen of Cloudland can knight a stuffie.”

“Where IS the Queen anyway?” Tommy whined. “You’ve told me that twenty times, but no one can tell me when she’ll be back!”

“Only Briana could say, if even she knows.” Alanna said. “Perhaps we could build you a special jungle home to honor you when you come here. We all know how special you are to Arthur.”

“I don’t want a jungle home!” Tommy cried, jumping up and down. The clouds rolled in waves away from his tantrum, though the softness of them stopped the stomping from making any actual noise. “I want to sit on the Round Table!”

Alanna took a deep breath, puffing out the stuffing of her chest. It was as much to give her time to think as it was to lend authority to her voice. She’d been out of new arguments for Tommy five requests past.

“TOMMY!” Screamed the shrill voice of Mimsey the bat. “YOU HAVE TO GO QUICK!”

“What is it?” Tommy asked, turning to Mimsey in alarm. Or trying to turn to her. She fluttered around him in circles, sending the Tyrannosaur in a dizzying spin.

“I SAW SMOKE COMING FROM YOUR HOUSE!” Mimsey screamed with her full echo-locating shriek. “YOU HAVE TO GO LOOK!”

“Oh no, Arthur!” Tommy shouted, squeakily. He stormed off toward a cloud edge, as fast as he could go.

Alanna rubbed her fuzzy ears. It had been a bit much to have the two squeakiest stuffies shouting. She eyed Mimsey warily. The little bat had taken a perch on the music tree with no sign of the panic she’d shown mere moments ago.

“That was not very nice.” Alanna said. “Tommy’s little lives in a house with a fireplace. That’s the smoke you were talking about, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe.” Mimsey said, in a soft, innocent tone. “It doesn’t matter, I needed to speak to you immediately, Captain.”

“What was so important that you had to lie to an honored guest?” Alanna asked. “If you’re going to ask me for a favor, this is not the way to get it.”

“It’s not what I need.” Mimsey said. “A message came in through Wishnet. It’s serious.”

“Serious how.” Alanna asked, frowning.

“You have to listen to it yourself.” Mimsey said. “Follow me.”

Without waiting for agreement, Mimsey dropped from her perch and flew to the observatory. Alanna’s frown deepened. As prone to pranks as Mimsey was, this didn’t seem like one of them. She waved a quick goodbye to Periwinkle and charged after the bat. As she did, she made a mental note to tell Periwinkle to give the earbuds back, before Briana got in trouble for losing them.

The Observatory was all crystal and glass. Built like a massive, domed gazebo, it boasted smokey-glass stairs that wound up the columns so that any stuffie could reach the dome.  The dome was made of tiny facets of crystals, as countless as the stars. Exactly as countless. There was a facet for every star that a Little might wish on.

Alanna marveled again at the greatness of her Little’s heart as she jogged up the stairs. Most Littles had in their imagination realm a single window, or at most a few of them, to see the stars. Briana wanted every Little’s wishes to come true so badly that the Observatory had appeared to fulfill that desire.

Mimsey was on a platform next to a particularly bright crystal facet. It was electric-purple in color, which meant it was a message from a stuffie, not a wish from a Little. For a message to shine as brightly as a Little’s wish was worrying. Alanna was already mentally forgiving Mimsey for her subterfuge.

“You’ve already listened to it?” Alanna asked.

Mimsey merely nodded, drawing her wings around herself protectively. That was even more concerning. Still, the Knight Captain of all stuffies could not turn away from danger. Alanna gazed into the crystal and opened her heart to the message.

What she heard there nearly sent her reeling off the platform in shock. Her stuffing felt cold and wet inside her. All the happy, fluffy feeling had been driven out of her. She looked into Mimsey’s blue-button eyes with her own black hemispheres and saw that Mimsey was just as afraid. The little bat was bearing it well, she was still brave in the face of what they’d heard.

“I am proud of you, Sir Mimsey.” Alanna said, putting a paw on the bat’s wing. “Your courage in the face of this message is noted. I will not ask you to join me on this quest.”

“Captain!” Mimsey said urgently. “You can’t do this alone! No stuffie could.”

“Indeed.” Alanna said. “For a threat like this, we will need a fellowship of Stuffies Primary.”

“A fellowship? Of Stuffies Primary? How many is that supposed to be?” Mimsey flapped her wings in agitation. “We only have you, and Sir Totoro. Tommy isn’t a knight, or reliable enough.”

“I have received friendly letters from no less than five Stuffies Primary” Alanna said. “They are joined to truehearted Littles from across the world.”

“Do you think they’ll all come?” Mimsey asked nervously. “If they don’t, I could try to go…”

“They will come, Sir Mimsey. They are brave knights all. Every one of them is a Sympathmagus. With their help, I will lead this quest.”

“What if the danger is too much even for six of you?” Mimsey asked.

“It must not be.” Alanna said simply. “You heard the message. There is a Little who’s littleness has been taken from him. We cannot fail.”

She turned away from Mimsey and cast her eyes to the facets above her. One by one, five of them glimmered with her tawny orange glow.

“Come to me. The need is great.” She sent, her heart blazing with concern for the Little who was lost.

One by one, the champions answered.

(To be continued with Reader Stuffies!)