Chapter Two Hundred and Six - Home Again, Home Again

The first sign I saw that we were nearing Hopsalot, was the Beaver Cleaver’s bright balloon hovering over the little town.

We huffed and puffed our way up a final hill, and in so doing, got to see the whole town out ahead of us. Tree-house homes and little burrows, open fields where neat little gardens were soaking up morning sunshine and the little gurgling river that swished and swashed through the village, never going in a straight line when it could instead meander around hills and through little creeks and under arched stone bridges with trellis-covered sides.

I raised a hand and cupped it over my forehead to shield my eyes from the sun. I could make out buns, most with bright white shirts and with adorable little overalls on, some caring for their gardens while the little ones ran around and chased each other over hills, their long bunny ears bouncing with every step. The older buns were usually sitting on the porches before their burrow homes, rocking on finely crafted chairs and smoking from reed pipes.

“We’re here!” I called back to the others.

Behind me were my best friends. Awen still had bandages around her waist from where she’d gotten hurt the night before, and Amaryllis looked a bit miffed at having to walk through the forest so much. The branches and leaves tended to get caught in her feathers, much to her very loud annoyance.

Bastion came up behind them, looking like a very small knight in shining armour. He smiled at me, relaxed as a sylph paladin could be. His wings fluttered behind him as he skipped off a boulder.

Then there were the buns. Momma in her half-plate, and Carrot who’d removed her gauntlets and had them tied by her waist so that they clanged and banged with every step. Buster took up the very rear of the group, the huge bun stomping along with his big hammer slung onto his shoulder.

Peter was... somewhere. He was the sneaky sort, so it wasn’t too surprising that I couldn’t spot him. He’d show up if anything needed our attention, I was sure.

Carrot bounced up and came to a stop at the top of the hill, right next to me. Her ears wiggled with poorly suppressed excitement, and her grin was as wide as a grin could be. “Home!” she declared.

“Home!” I said right back.

Hopsalot wasn’t my home, of course, but the Beaver certainly was. I could only-just make out a few figures on the airship’s deck, some of them with long bun-ears.

Momma caught up to us with the others and took in a deep breath. “Ah, there was a time, once, where I would leave for months on end. Wanderlust dragging me this way and that. Now I can hardly leave for more than a day or two without fearing that everything will crumble apart without me there.”

I giggled. “I’m sure it’s not so bad,” I said.

Some of the buns in Hopsalot spotted our party, because within moments a whole crowd of little buns had gathered by the edge of the village. They stared at us, some of them holding up their ears away from their eyes while others hesitated and only peeked our way from behind bushes and little picket fences.

When we came over, their hesitation broke and soon we were swarmed by a whole gaggle of buns.

Carrot darted ahead, picked one little bun up by the armpits, and spun her around a couple of times before squeezing them tight. “I’m back!” she said while the little bun tried really hard to return the hug, even though her arms were too short to wrap around Carrot’s sides.

I felt Awen and Amaryllis shuffle up behind me, using me as an ablative layer against all the bouncing and smiling buns. “Hello!” I said.

Their reply was a cacophony of questions that I couldn’t possibly answer all at once. From asking if we’d fought big monsters, to wondering if they could visit the airship again, to very generous offers to join them in playing extreme hopscotch.

“Ah, I’m sorry everybun. But my friends and I need to follow Momma for a bit! We’ll have some time to play after that, I’m sure!”

Momma was kneeling down, hugging buns that needed hugs, patting buns that needed pats, and sometimes pinching fat, chubby cheeks, much to the dismay of the buns whose faces she pinched.

It took a bit for the sea of little buns to recede and for us to be able to head deeper into the town. Buster was entirely covered in buns, who seemed to have confused the big man for a jungle-gym of sorts. Peter, of course, was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t seem the sort to take kindly to being pestered by little buns.

Momma shooed some of them along, and Carrot saved the day by sacrificing herself a moment later with a declaration of, “Who wants to play tag?”

The screaming horde bounced after Carrot, a whole bunch of ears wobbling as they chased her.

“Aww,” I said.

“Thank the World,” Amaryllis said. “I can’t handle one child. That many is just a disaster in the making.”

“Oh, we have little disasters all the time,” Momma said. “Buns who get caught between pickets, buns who get into fights over favourite dolls, little buns who discover some interesting insect, name it, start treating it as a favoured pet, and are then devastated when the insect passes away... usually on the same day they found it.”

“Oh no,” I said. “That happened to me once. I had a pet praying mantis, but I didn't tell my mom that little Mem was a pet, and she smacked it with a fly-swatter. I was devastated.”

“Awa, I never had a pet before,” Awen said.

“I’ve always wanted a cat,” Amaryllis added. “They have very agreeable personalities.”

“Is that why you get along so well with Orange?” I asked.

“I suppose so. The spirit cat is obviously a grand and noble creature. I see a lot of myself in her,” Amaryllis said.

Snorting, I turned to Awen. “What about you? We could probably get you a pet, if you wanted. Like a dog? Airships can have dogs, right?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Awen said. “Dogs need room to move, and the Beaver is a little small for that.”

I pouted. My plan, newly-created, to use Awen as an excuse to get a dog had been foiled. “Well, alright. Maybe a parrot, we are pirates after all.”

“I would like to log my protest,” Bastion said. “I am not a pirate. Nor for that matter are any of you.”

“Sky pirate, sorry,” I said.

“No,” he said, with obvious exasperation. It turned into contrite resignation when I giggled. He has a knack for making strange faces whenever I catch him flat-footed.

I was expecting Momma to lead us to her home, but instead she moved towards the little hill where the Beaver had set down his anchor. “I genuinely wish we could have you stay, if only for a little longer, but if my suspicions are correct, then the Insmouth dungeon is in as great a risk as the Newbinning’s dungeon was.”

“We need to head over there and fix it as soon as we can, then?” I asked.

Momma nodded. “I’m confident you can manage. In either case, I’ll send some of my better buns over, Carrot and perhaps Peter included, just to see if they need assistance in a day’s time.”

“They could come with us,” I offered.

Momma shook her head. “They need time with their families. And you need a bit of a break too, I imagine. Still, the World doesn’t always have as much concern for us as we’d wish.”

I sighed. “Okay. We should probably get Awen back to bed anyway.”

“Awa? I’m better now,” Awen said. She reached over and touched her side. “There’s just some scabbing now. I took potions.”

“I’m still worried,” I said.

“You were impaled once, and we didn’t do this much for you,” Awen said. “Remember? In that glass dungeon?”

“Well, yeah, I was fine,” I said.

Awen crossed her arms and levelled a very un-Awen look at me. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Broc. I can deal with a bit of pain.”

Momma laughed, and Amaryllis seemed very proud of Awen while I pouted. “Fine, fine,” I said.

We arrived in the shadow cast by the Beaver, and I saw Oda and Sally, the Scallywags, looking over the rails at us. There were a couple of the older little buns with them. Those that were around the Scallywags own ages. I waved, and they waved back.

“Do you need anything for your return trip?” Momma asked.

I considered it. “I don’t think so? Some supplies wouldn’t go amiss. Our voyage has already gone on for a lot longer than we expected.”

“We didn’t get as much fuel in Needleford as we could have,” Awen said. “But I don’t think we can get any here.”

"I’m afraid that Hopsalot doesn’t have much use for that sort of thing,” Momma agreed. “What about food and such?”

“We’re fine there,” Amaryllis said. “Thank you.”

Bastion bowed at the waist. “I wish to thank you as well, ma’am,” he said. “Your hospitality has been wonderful, and your prompt action has likely done much to keep your little town safe.”

“That’s just a mother’s job,” Momma said. “Come, I’ll give you all a quick hug for the trip back.”

I crashed into Momma, because really, her hugs were the best. Then it was the others’ turn, though Bastion politely declined, and Amaryllis made noises as if she wanted to decline while eagerly accepting the hug.

“I’m going to miss Hopsalot,” I said. “And I was only here for less than a day.” I let my shoulders droop a bit, and my gaze wandered over the town. It was just so chaotically peaceful. The big homes built into trees, the doors stuck into the sides of hills, the little streets, paved in carefully laid cobbles. The river sang a gurgling song, accompanied by the wind whispering over grassy hills.

Then a whole bunch of little ones appeared, all of them scrambling over Carrot who took a tumble and rolled down a hill to the tune of merry screams.

“I would offer to let you stay,” Momma said when she looked away from the spectacle. None of the little buns looked to be hurt from the flop down the hill. “But I suspect that you’re at that point in your life where adventure has its hooks in you, and where you’d want nothing more than to meddle. It might be best for everyone here if you only came back when you’re a little older, and a little calmer.”

“I’m not a meddler,” I defended myself.

Amaryllis snorted.

“Is this ‘mock Broccoli’ day?” I asked.

“It’s always ‘mock Broccoli’ day,” Amaryllis said. She nodded to Momma. “We’ll probably fly back over here again, on the way North.

“Then stop by for tea,” Momma said. “No matter the hour.”

Amaryllis nodded, then moved over to a ladder that someone had left dangling off the Beaver’s side. “Come on, Broccoli, you’re holding us back!”

“Oh, right, okay,” I said. I jumped to Momma, gave her a last hug, got my head rubbed for my troubles, then darted back to the Beaver.

When we climbed aboard, we found a few curious buns on deck, with Clive sitting on one of the steps leading to the aft castle and explaining things. Howard the fishman was nearby too, wringing his webbed fingers as he approached.

“I’ll make sure we don’t have any uninvited guests aboard,” Amaryllis said. “You deal with Howard here.”

I nodded and skipped over to the fishman. “Heya,” I said.

“Hello Captain Bunch,” he said. “How did it go?”

“It went well enough,” I said. “We know how to fix your dungeon now, but I think we ought to hurry back. It gets harder and harder to fix things as time goes on. We don’t want to be too late,” I said.

Howard’s shoulders loosened and he gave me a fishy smile. “Oh, thank the fathomless depths,” he said.

“Don’t worry Howard, my friends and I will have everything back to how it ought to be in a jiffy!”

***