"What did he say?" Elliot asked.
"He said he couldn't tell them anything, but then they said they already knew the Pixies brought you here and they weren't happy about it. You see, the Fairies want the Glimmering Woods too. If they think you're helping the Pixies, they'll be upset."
"But I don't have a choice," Elliot said. "The Pixies have Tubs."
"I know, but the Fairies might not understand that," Mr. Willimaker said. "Fairies aren't the most forgiving creatures. They reminded Fudd about an old treaty the Brownies have with both the Pixies and Fairies, promising not to get involved in any fights between them. They told Fudd to stop you, or else they would."
Elliot groaned. "And what did Fudd say?"
Mr. Willimaker shrugged. "He told them he'd think about it. I don't know what he's decided."
"Doesn't sound good," Elliot said.
"No, it doesn't," Mr. Willimaker agreed.
They stared at the streaks for a while longer, although now that Elliot wondered whether Fudd had betrayed him again, the streaks didn't seem so bright and colorful. He sighed and said, "I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight."
"Cheer up, Your Highness," Mr. Willimaker said. "Other than the Brownies, I can think of at least five Underworld creatures who aren't trying to kill you right now."
"Great."
"Try to get some sleep," Mr. Willimaker mumbled. "I'll have breakfast ready when you wake up, and sn..."
Whatever "sn..." meant, Elliot wasn't going to find out. Mr. Willimaker was asleep before he finished the word.
Elliot slept better that night than he thought he would. He woke up to a cheery sunrise, or whatever it was in the Underworld that provided light. Morning magic, perhaps. He would have liked another cup of Fudd's Mushroom Surprise, although if Mr. Willimaker was right and Fudd couldn't be trusted, he probably shouldn't take anything else Fudd offered him.
Mr. Willimaker greeted Elliot when he sat up. "Awake, Your Highness? My apologies, I expected you to sleep awhile longer."
"Hard to sleep when you're hunting a Demon," Elliot said.
"Ah, yes." Mr. Willimaker said. "My cousin once said the same thing about hunting for delicious burbleberries. Although to be fair, burbleberries won't rip your arms off if you get close to them."
Elliot turned to Mr. Willimaker, who was finishing getting dressed. He looked as fresh and clean as ever. Elliot, on the other hand, thought he could smell his own body odor, and something sticky was on his cheek.
Mr. Willimaker hurried over to unwrap his bundle. "I saw a stream a little ways back. Maybe I can heat some water for a warm mint broth." As Mr. Willimaker pulled two cups from his bag, his ears suddenly perked up at the side of his head, the way a dog's might when it hears something.
"I don't mean to alarm you," Mr. Willimaker whispered, "but is there any chance that noise came from you?"
Elliot hadn't heard anything. "What noise?"
"That rustling noise. I was hoping that perhaps it was you over in those bushes."
"It's not me," Elliot said.
"Are you sure?" Mr. Willimaker's ears were at full attention now, then they relaxed and he added, "It was probably nothing. A rodent or a snake perhaps."
Elliot pulled his feet in close to him. He didn't like snakes. He didn't trust anything that could move on the ground without legs.
Mr. Willimaker tapped the cups. "I'll get some water. Won't be long." Then he walked away toward the stream.
Only a minute later, Elliot heard a "Hamph!" and a loud "No!" Then a small puff of smoke rose in the air and everything went silent. Elliot hoped it wasn't a snake that had gotten to Mr. Willimaker, because that would have to be some freaky large snake. He ran in the direction Mr. Willimaker had gone, calling his name, but there was no answer. Then he ran to the stream, but it didn't look as if Mr. Willimaker had gotten this far. At least, no footprints were in the mud other than Elliot's.
Elliot turned back the way he had come. Under a bush he saw the two cups Mr. Willimaker must have dropped.
"Mr. Willimaker?" Elliot called again. What had happened to him?
He picked up the cups and then saw a small note hanging from a branch of the bush. He plucked it off and read: