"Daddy, I'm really bored," Qerri mumbled as she finally emerged on her hands and knees, some three hours later, from between the dangling bed sheet and the aquarium-themed beach towel which together comprised the doorway to her makeshift "hamlet" playhouse.  "Can I sit in your lap and color?"

"Darling, I'm a little busy.  Can't you find something to do for a little while?"

"I have something to do.  I can color," she persisted from somewhere beneath his desk.  Suddenly her face rose like a surfacing dolphin from between his knees and her hand popped up right in his face, making her point.  "See?  I have that Lion King coloring book Santa gave me last Christmas.  And now I can do it."

"Oh yeah?" Creek replied, thoroughly engaged in his research project and paying scant attention to her childish rambling.  "It took you eight months to get around to it?"

"That's because I lost my brown crayon."

"You have at least fifty others, I'm sure."

"But you can't color a lion without brown."

"So, make it polar lion.  That way you don't even need to color it at all.  Leave it white and call it done."

"Daddy, that's dumb.  Whoever heard of a polar lion?"

"I was attacked by one once, while I was camped in Siberia."

"You were?"  Qerri was underneath the desk and stealthily sneaking her way ever so gradually up onto his lap as she rambled.  "What did you do?"

"I fed him catnip, and became his caregiver."

"What did you name him?" 

"Get down!" he admonished her with a big hand on the top of her hair.

"That's a funny name for a lion," she said, pondering with scrunched up nose and a roll of her eyes.

"Hey, I'm trying to work here, and you're a pest, Qerri.  So kindly git!"

"But I want to sit in your lap and color."

"I thought you were missing your brown."

"I was, but it's back.  It was in my makeup bag all along."

"What was it doing in there?"

"I think I tried to use it as eye shadow once, but it didn't work out very well."

"Wonderful.  So shoo, girl!  Go play!"

"Hold me in your lap.  Puh-leeeze?" she begged with her most pitiful big brown eyes and a bat of the lashes (a ploy guaranteed to work every time!).

"Only if you go clean yourself up and put on some pants."

"Huh?"

"You're in a dress, Qerri, with no undies.  And you smell poopy!"

"What??"  Qerri was totally taken aback and let out an audible gasp.  At a loss for words, she sank back beneath the desk and sat blushing in the dark, her mouth wide open in utter disbelief that he would be so insanely rude as to go there.  And he wasn't finished.

"Moreover," he continued, "you're on your period.  So, no way!  You are not sitting in my lap without something on down there.  Go put on a pullup and we'll talk."

"Will you help me?" she asked.

"No.  You're twenty-five.  I bet you can handle it."

"Then, will you kiss my ears, daddy?"

"Why?"

"'Cause I like it!"

So, easy pushover that he was, he obliged.  A kiss and a warm little puff of breath in each and he sent her cooing on her way at last.

Midway through the afternoon, Mother Nature sent a vigorous summer thunderstorm rolling across the south corn field and right over the farm, booming and flashing and dumping buckets of heavy rain along with a few pellets of hail onto the patchwork roof of the old mansion.  Creek had spent the whole day in his study, pouring over his collection of mysterious old documents, and babysitting Qerri.  As the storm grew more intense, however, he became concerned about the likelihood of leaks and went up into the attic to begin strategically placing pans here and there to catch the drips.

A half-hour or so earlier, Qerri had crawled back into her bedsheet and pillow hamlet and promptly curled up and fallen asleep.  But her nap time abruptly ended with the first clap of thunder, which literally reverberated through every creaking timber of the old house (not to mention her diminutive bladder).

"Daddy, what are you doing?"  she asked groggy-eyed from the top step of the attic staircase.  She was dragging along her old pink blankee and sucking her thumb sleepily.   "I'm scared."

"It's okay, hon," he replied.  "It's just another good old summer shower.  It'll be out of here in a few minutes.  And think of all the cool puddles you'll have to splash around in!"

"Okay. Can I have a hug?" she asked as she came waddling over to him on her bare tippy toes, rather awkwardly and bowleggedly --  a tell-tale gait he knew well.

She raised up on her tiptoes, and put her arms around his neck, in the process causing her short skirt to hike up nearly to her waist.   And, sure enough, as he inched his hands down to her butt, he could tell immediately that the new pullup she had just put on an hour ago, as he had suspected, was already history---soggy and sagging from a hefty thunder-induced squirt.

"What are you doing up here anyway?" she asked as she glanced nervously around the attic.  "It is dark and spooky up here, especially in a storm."

"Here, babe.  Help me place these buckets anywhere you see a drip.  This old roof is going to have to get fixed if we're going to keep getting these rain showers."

"Like this?" she asked as she carefully positioned a pan underneath the nearest leak.

"You got it," he smiled.  He had at least successfully distracted her for the moment from fretting over the storm.  "Good job!"

"I'll help you fix the roof.  I'm good with a skwewdrivoh."  [just a snippet of classic Little Qerri baby-talk, which sometimes snuck its way in there when she was sleepy]

"You are, huh?  When have you ever used a skwewdrivoh?"  [...and a snippet of Creek mocking her playfully, as he loved to do]

"When the dwain [idib] in the bathroom sink got clogged with hair.  I poked it down there like a hundred times and got every last bit of that gunk out."

"Well, my goodness!  Aren't you little Miss Fixit?"

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

"Nah.  But, guess what?  That roof is going to need a lot more than you and your twusty skwewdrivoh.  We'd have to hire a whole crew of roofing experts for that."

"You mean, like, workers?"

"Yes, like, workers."

"Young cute ones with tans and tattooed muscles?"

"No, old ugly ones that come cheap.  I'm afraid money for us is a little scarce right now, my dear."

"Pooh.  So, I guess we'll just keep spreading pans and buckets all over the place every time it rains, huh?" she groused, "And running noisy old fans that keep me awake half the night, instead of real A/C?  And pushing around rented grass mowers instead of driving the cool kind?"

"Are you complaining?" he kidded.

"Yes I am!  And I dare you to spank me."

"On that soggy butt?  Are you kidding?  Not even on a double dare!"

As silly as this back and forth banter was, Creek was actually pleased with its tone, for it denoted a discernable change of demeanor; and he had picked up on it immediately.  She was making more sense all of a sudden and was obviously beginning to morph out of her monthly childish thing and back to reality.  Little Girl Qerri was sweet and all; but twenty-something Qerri was a hell of a lot less difficult!  This menstrual period apparently was going be a fairly short-lived affair---and, for that, Creek was overjoyed.  For there were some serious 'adult' matters he'd been waiting to discuss with her. 

"Let's get you changed," he laughed, "and rustle up some T-bones for supper."

"Yum!"

"And then tackle your math assignment."

"Yuck!"

"Yuck, you say?"

"Or something that rhymes with it!"

"Qerri Anne!" he said, jabbing his finger right between her big eyes.  "Now I will spank you!"

"You'll have to catch me first," she giggled.  And, with that, she bolted down the stairs and disappeared from the attic.  Yep, Big Girl Qerri was back in bloom, and in good form.

"Yay," Creek whispered to himself.

The next morning as Qerri slept in, recuperating from her monthly little ordeal, Creek took advantage of the peace and quiet to call his buddy and ex-girlfriend, Sandra, just to see what she was up to.  They had not had a chance to chat for several weeks, and he was eager to bring her up-to-speed on all that had been happening around the farm---and to tap into her wisdom with respect to all that he had been uncovering in his examination of those musty old diaries and other documents from the two big steamer trunks in the attic.

"I finally figured out a couple of things," he explained.  "For one, there are at least two languages mixed in together in these writings.  It's weird.  You have a bunch of cryptic symbols and squiggles that look like hieroglyphics or something; but, in between those is a language that, as far as I can tell, is related to Gaelic or Old English.  I even got me a couple of books on ancient Celtic and Anglo-Saxon tongues, and also found some valuable stuff online.  And, little by little, I am starting to make a little sense out of it.  Not much, but a little."

"It's tough to decipher," he continued, "because it's handwritten in an old-fashioned cursive script, and the ink is really faded.  But what I've concluded is that the language actually must be a regional Scottish dialect that is no longer written or spoken, but hearkens back to some tribal kingdoms that dominated the Highlands like over a thousand years ago."

"Creek, that is so fascinating!" exclaimed Sandra enthusiastically.  "And especially given what Qerri told us about her own history, remember?  And didn't you tell me that her name showed up in those diaries someplace?"

"Right.  Three times that I've found so far."

"That can't be a coincidence," she replied.  "Qerri, spelled exactly that way?  What are the chances?  And do you remember that story she told us about being kidnapped by evil knights and held captive in a dungeon?  Creek, that was supposedly in a castle in Scotland, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, you're right.  Good point.  I hadn't thought of that.  And some of the things this writer talks about do seem really ancient---like, events and stuff that would have to go back to a very long time ago, exactly as Qerri claims her memories do."

"Who do you suppose wrote all of that?"

"That's the other thing that's so intriguing.  Get this!  It appears that they were all written by the same person, someone with the initials "D.L."---only at much different times, apparently separated by lots of years, maybe even centuries.  In the most recent ones, the writer refers to herself as Doris."

"As in your mysterious Aunt Doris?"

"Exactly! And this old house, of course, was hers; so that makes sense.  But if you look at the really old documents, the handwriting looks the same, but the writer uses the name Du'rasa."

"So you're thinking that Doris and Du'rasa are the same person, but from different eras?"

"Yep.  And get this.  I ran across the remnants of a really, really old paper that was all yellowed and looked like it might be smoke damaged, like it went through a fire.  It was mostly in those cryptic symbols, so I couldn't make heads or tails out of it; but I'm thinking it could be a legal document of some sort.  And one of the signatures at the bottom looks exactly like Doris' handwriting, but with still a different name:  Dmitra.  Figure that one out!"

"Hmm.  Those names sound remarkably similar," replied Sandra.  "I'm with you, Creek.  All three have to be the same person, your Aunt Doris.  And how odd that she mentions Qerri by name! Have you approached the kid on this stuff, to see if any of it rings a bell with her?"

"Well, only briefly.  Sandra, she is so unfocused and scattered, she's frankly not much help on any of this.  But I do plan to try to pin her down on it.  I especially want to ask her about one particular passage that really has me baffled."

"What sort of passage?  What does it say?"

"I have it right here.  According to my research books, it translates into English as follows:

"The libids shepherded her highness through the labyrinth and emerged from the dank warren, bidding her godspeed; and naked she ran into the crisp night air, free at last.  Bathed in the radiant clair de lune of her true inner spirit, she fell to the cobbles and wept.  And all the children wept with her.  And then they took her home."

"Seriously?" exclaimed Sandra.  "That's almost poetic."

"For real.  And it makes no sense at all to me.  I did learn a song once, during my piano lessons as a kid, called Clair De Lune.  But what the hell are libids?"

"And do you suppose her highness could be our little princess?"

"Well, it says she ran naked, so yep---that sounds like our Qerri alright.  And, speaking of which, here comes Miss Morning Glory herself...and she ain't exactly blooming!"

"Ha ha," Sandra laughed.  "Well, go give her a kiss and a dry diaper and a bowl of Wheaties, Mr. Caregiver."

"She doesn't look like she's in much of a kissing mood.  I may be in trouble for something.  I guess I better get off here and go see what's up."

"Okey dokey.  Good luck."

Creek hung up and greeted Qerri with a smile as she dragged herself into the kitchen, looking a fright.  (Did we mention that Qerri was not a morning person, even on a good day?)

"Good morning, Sunshine!" he said cheerfully.

"Morning," she mumbled sullenly as she plopped herself into her chair and promptly laid her tangled mane of hair on the table, two fingers in her mouth, and closed her eyes.

"Did you sleep well, sweetie?" he asked, trying to coax some pizzazz into her sloth-like body.

"No.  You were making too much racket, tromping around up there in the attic.  You kept waking me up."

"I wasn't up there.  I came down right after you did."

"Well, then, there must be a herd of frigging elephants living right over my bedroom."

"You must have dreamed it," he offered.

"No, I didn't.  It woke me up."

Okay, well, I promise it wasn't me.  Maybe it was the wind, left over from that big storm.  Anyway, have a cup of coffee and get yourself in gear.  Then, you and I can go on an elephant safari and check things out up there.  Besides, we need to gather up those pans and buckets, and look for any other leaks they might have missed."

"Something was clanging around up there, too, in the middle of the night.  It sounded like you were up there kicking those pans around.  I didn't know what the hell you were doing, but it was pissing me off."

"Wasn't me, grouchy.  But, speaking of pissing, are you wet or dry this morning?"

Her sleepy cheek still on the table, she simply replied by yanking up the tail of her t-shirt and cupping the palm of her hand down and under the crotch of her diaper.

"I'd say half and half," she muttered. "Come here and see what you think."

"That's okay.  I'll take that as a wet.  We'll get you cleaned up after breakfast."

Over the next few minutes, she slowly finished her cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal and seemed to brighten up a bit as her daddy gently brushed her hair.

"You look better already!"  he smiled.  "Ready to go check out the attic?"

"You do it," she retorted. "I don't like that creepy-ass place.  And, if it wasn't you up there, then we might have monsters."

"Or big termites."

"Or elephants."

"Or maybe ghosts.  They've been known to clang things around, you know.  I saw that in Ghostbusters."

"Well, I ain't no ghostbuster," she said with a scowl.  "So, I'm going to my room.  Come and get me when you've chased off the monsters and ghosts."

"Okay.  But while you're up there, wiggle worm, go potty. I know you're about ready to.  And, by the way, ain't ain't a word, you know."

"Whatever.  Hand me a pan and I'll go in it, right here."

"Sorry, lazy butt, we're all out of pans today.  They're all up there in the attic.  But, follow me up there and you can have the pan of your choosing."

"I told you, I ain't going up there."

"You ain't, huh? What a wuss!  Well, then, you go to the bathroom and I'll go check things out.  And come here and give me a kiss."

And, of course, she did.

Qerri had not been dreaming.  And it was probably just as well that she chickened out as she did, because she would have been utterly freaked out by what her dad encountered as he reached the top of the stairs and turned on the light in the attic.  All those pans and buckets that had been strategically placed to catch drips were now strewn everywhere.  Some were upside down, others scooted from here to there, and most were empty.  The rainwater they had collected had somehow been mysteriously spilled or sloshed out onto the attic floor.  And he noticed something else.  The whole place smelled weird.

"What the fuck?" he whispered to himself as he looked around.  Creek was not one to curse, but this topsy-turvy scene and the noxious odor literally made him recoil.  What had happened up here?

For a moment he hesitated on the top step, leery about going any further.  But then something else caught his eye.  Across the room, right next to that mysterious opening in the far wall which opened to the hidden shaft with the ladder and the secret room he had been investigating, papers were scattered all over the floor.  He knew for a fact that he had left them neatly arranged in stacks on the table where he had been systematically sorting through and organizing the contents of those two old trunks.  Now they were everywhere, as if a hurricane had blown through.  In fact, that was his first thought, that maybe yesterday's storm had somehow produced an errant gust of wind.  But that seemed out of the question.  The ceiling might be leaky, but the house itself was remarkably tight.  There were very few drafts, even up here in this attic.

After a minute or so, he mustered up the courage to venture on in.  He had leaned down to pick up one of the buckets when he suddenly heard a noise behind him.  He thought maybe it was Qerri starting to come up the stairs, and he was about to holler for her to stay put. But then he heard it again, louder this time.  No, it wasn't downstairs; it was coming from across the room, in the area of those papers on the floor.  Startled, he spun around just in time to catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.  He was pretty certain he had just seen something dark and shadowy disappear into that opening in the wall.  But he couldn't be sure.  It was a split-second thing, like when one catches a fleeting glimpse of a late night mouse scampering silently along a shadowy wall.  He could have imagined it.  But he had heard something, that much he knew for sure.

Without hesitation, he made his way quickly over to the shaft opening, shuffling his feet through the papers on the floor, to see what he could see.  With trepidation, he stuck his head into the opening and peered up the shaft and down.  Whatever it was he had seen and heard, it was nowhere to be found now.  But had it gone up, and into the hidden room with the trunks and old furniture?  Or down the ladder, winding up who knows where, in some lower part of the house?  (That was an exploration he had not quite gotten around to yet; and now he was certainly less inclined than ever to go squeezing his way down that ladder).  And then, another noise, causing him to jump back with a start!  This time, it actually was Qerri, calling from the hallway down below.

"Daddy?  Where are you?"

"I'm up here, dear, taking care of the buckets and pans," he replied, his voice trembling.  "Stay down there.  I'll be down in a sec."

"Okay," she answered.

It was precisely at that moment that he noticed the most disturbing thing of all.  Hanging from the ladder in the shaft was a tiny tuft of reddish-brown hair, coarse and wiry.  It was only a small clump, but it certainly had not been there before.  And then he saw another one just like it, on the floor right on top of the papers and debris scattered about.  And a couple of single strands nearby.  They all matched.  Now he knew he hadn't been hearing or seeing things; and Qerri definitely had not been dreaming!  Something with dark-colored hair or fur actually had been running amok up here; and, whatever it was, it had a terrible stench.

Monsters, ghosts, elephants, or whatever---Creek knew one thing for certain.  He was not going to bring this up to his daughter.  Shaken, he gathered up as many of the pans and buckets as he could carry and swiftly exited that attic.  And it would be quite a number of days before he would muster up the nerve to go back up there---days and lots of sleepless nights.  Qerri had been right.  That absolutely was a creepy-ass place. 

Creek retreated hastily from that experience and came down and into the den to find his daughter sprawled out across his recliner, absent-mindedly absorbed in "Rugrats".  Still in her slouchy old nighttime t-shirt over a moist and droopy pullup, her bare feet were dangling off of one side and she was chewing on an ice cube from an old go cup.  His face was pale as a ghost, but she was too lost in daydream land to notice; and he did his best to act as if everything was normal.

"You know what psychologists say about ice-munching, don't you?" he asked offhandedly.

"What?"

"That it's a sign of sexual frustration." 

"What's that?" she asked vacantly and innocently, her eyes still on the TV.

"Never mind," he replied, wisely choosing to change the subject. "Did you go potty?"

"Yes sir."

"And you fed Areo?"

"Yes sir."

His efforts to light a fire under her were clearly not working very well. "I give up," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and heading into the kitchen.  But at least she was no longer ten, he was thinking -- coloring bright, mirthful lions and stacking Legos.  He was so glad she was back to being adult Qerri once more and was in hopes that he might manage to corral her long enough to discuss a few things---serious things that would require real focus on her part.  Whatever this bizarre community of Wig Water and this old farm house were about, there was some deep, dark connection to her.  But what the hell was it?  Was she as clueless as he?  Or did she know something about it and just wasn't saying?

He was about to confront her with the prospect of getting dressed when his phone rang.  He thought it might be Sandra, calling to see what, if anything, was new (And, frankly, he was not exactly in the mood to go there right now).  But it was not. 

"Oh, good morning, Miss Kayleigh," he said cheerfully.  "How are you, honey?"

The two chatted for several minutes before she asked if he thought Qerri might like to come out to her place and spend the afternoon with her, her little girl Tori, and their colt Dakota.

"I bet she would," he replied, "if you can manage to drag her away from cartoons long enough to get dressed.  Here, let me go find her and put her on."

When Qerri found out it was her friend Kayleigh, she perked up in an instant.  And it was not long before their horse-riding plans were nailed down and Creek was taking her in their pickup out to Kayleigh's farm on the northern edge of the county, a place neither had ever been before.

Qerri, who was supposed to be learning to drive but had not practiced it in months, was so magically invigorated on this afternoon that she almost begged her daddy to let her drive the final five or six miles from the outskirts of Warner's Mill out to the little parcel of country where Kayleigh lived with Tori and Dakota, and an assortment of dogs and cats.  When they arrived at the gate, however, Creek could tell from a distance that Kayleigh seemed to have visitors.  And something unusual appeared to be going on.  A white sedan was parked in the driveway next to her old mobile home and she seemed to be having an animated discussion with a couple of people in the yard, a man and a woman.

"Hold up here a second," he said to Qerri as he kept his gaze on whatever was going on down there.  "Let me take over from this point, okay?"

"Why?  What's up?" she asked as he walked around to her side of truck and slipped into the drivers seat.

"I'm not sure, but I think we'd better go see if she needs help."  Still looking straight ahead as he took the truck slowly through the open gate, he placed his hand gently on her knee, which was bouncing nervously, if only just barely perceptibly, against his leg. 

As they drove up to the yard, a heavy-set woman was barking at Kayleigh who was standing in the doorway to her mobile home, her little girl at her side and dressed in only a diaper.  And Kayleigh, normally quiet and placid, was barking right back.

"She's four years old, dammit!" she exclaimed angrily, "and it's summertime!  What would you expect?  That she'd be in a parka and earmuffs?"

"And that place is at least a hundred degrees in there," the woman retorted.  "It's not safe."

"We have fans," said Kayleigh, "and I'm getting the A/C fixed as soon as I have the money.  Leave us the hell alone!"  She was clearly on the verge of tears.  And that's when Creek decided it was time to intervene.  Casually he walked up to them, paused to listen for a moment, and then spoke out.

"Howdy," he said cordially.

"Hi, Creek," Kayleigh said, wiping her eyes.  "Hi, Qerri."

"What's going on?" he asked.

"And who might you be?" the woman demanded, glaring at Creek, at which point Kayleigh grabbed the opportunity to interject.

"They're friends of mine, okay?  Give me a sec."  She took Creek and Qerri aside and proceeded to explain that the woman and little weaselly man in the cheap suit lurking behind her were from Child Protective Services and were unhappy that the house had no air conditioning and that Tori was running around in nothing but a dirty diaper.  Creek strolled back over to the woman and man, who were obviously growing impatient, and decided he needed to take charge.

"Ma'am, from what I can tell, it looks like Kayleigh has things pretty much under control out here," he said to them calmly but emphatically.

"This does not concern you, sir," the woman sneered, pointing a fat little finger at him.  "You need to butt out.  We are here to serve an official complaint from the county."

"Well, she is under twenty-one," he said firmly, "so, at this point, I am speaking on her behalf.  And I am asking you to take your official complaint and..."

"I'd be careful if I were you, sir," the mousy pointy-nosed guy in the suit interrupted.  "You are about to interfere with justice.  And there's a deputy waiting right up there on that hill."

Sure enough. Creek hadn't noticed, but there was indeed a police SUV parked at the side of the highway up on the hill with its hazard lights flashing.

"Okay, guys," he said, breathing in deeply and trying to temper his tone to avoid saying too much, "As I told you, Kayleigh and Tori, as of this moment, are under my supervision.  If you have a beef, take it up with me, okay?"

"What is your name, sir?" the woman asked as she scribbled in her little notepad.

"It's Creek, like a stream.  But never mind.  Listen, I will take care of whatever is amiss around here, okay?  And I will tell you this.  Kayleigh is a wonderful mama, and I promise you Tori is in good hands.  Give me a few days and I will see that the A/C gets fixed and everything is in tip-top condition.  Are you okay with that?"

"Okay," she replied, "but we'll be back in a week to check."

"That's fine.  We'll get her done.  On that, you have my word."

The two got back in their car and left, as did the sheriff's deputy who had been watching from the top of the hill.  Kayleigh was sitting on the wooden steps leading to the front door and had Tori in her lap.  Qerri sat down next to her and put her arm comfortingly around her friend's petite shoulders.

"Thank you, Creek," Kayleigh said, trying to keep from crying.  "Thank you both, so much, for everything."  And then she looked down at her daughter.  "Tori, you remember Qerri?  From the club?"

"Uh huh," the little girl nodded with a little wave.  "Hi, Qerri."

"And this is Qerri's daddy.  His name is Creek.  They're going riding with us in a little bit."

"Not me," Creek quickly corrected her with smile.  "I've got work to do back at the house.  But Qerri's an equestrian from way back.  She told me she rode a unicorn with the Templar Knights during the Crusades, and fought off evil dragons with just a sword and a slingshot."

"Um, okay, I was mostly kidding," Qerri confessed meekly. "I've actually never been on a horse in my life."

"Oh, I see," smiled Creek.  "So, I guess we can pretty much count on you bouncing off and busting your noggin before the day's over."

"But you will kiss and make it better, right?"

"You and your kisses!" he quipped, tweaking his daughter's nose playfully making her giggle.  "Giddyup, Wyatt Twerp!  I gotta go.  You girls be careful, okay?"

And all three, even Tori, got a hearty laugh out of that.

"I'll bring her home in one piece, safe and sound," Kayleigh assured him with a smile.

"By nine-thirty, okay?  That's her curfew."

"Not one minute after.  And Creek, thanks again---for everything.  I don't know what I'd do without you and Qerri."

"Psst."  Qerri whispered in Kayleigh's ear once he'd returned to his truck.  "Question.  What's a he-kissed-her-end ?"

"A what??"

"What he said I was?"

"An equestrian!"  Kayleigh laughed out loud.  "It means you're a horse person."

"Oh.  I guess I am that, kind of."

"Well, you're about to be.  Let's go riding, girlfriend!"

Qerri learned a lot about horses that afternoon---mainly that riding on one was a whole lot different than prancing around the yard on a pretend unicorn; and that bouncing up and down in a saddle made for a very sore butt and thighs!  She could barely walk by the time that trail ride ended.  She also learned another valuable lesson:  Never go riding on a full bladder!  She tried to be discreet; but, of course, there was no fooling little Tori who noticed right off the bat and did not hesitate to spill the beans.

"How come your pants are wet?" she asked from her seat on her tricycle.

"TORI!" exclaimed her mother in embarrassment.  But Qerri only smiled timidly and jabbed Tori in the ribs, prompting a cute giggle.  And that was truly a magical moment, the precise instant when the two of them seemed to literally bond.  They sat next to each other at dinner that evening, constantly kidding one another playfully, and then watched TV together on the floor as Qerri brushed Tori's blond hair.  

Yes, they just sort of clicked.  And that was the beginning of a really unique sort of friendship, one which was destined to be chocked full of wonderful adventures ahead.  But it would also be a relationship fraught with misadventures, very serious ones, it would turn out, with deadly serious consequences for both little Tori as well as for her new pal and mentor, Princess Qerri of the RomantiQuest---who had no idea that she had just haplessly stumbled smack dab into the middle of perilous and hugely complicated situation. 

"Tori, go find your sandals," Kayleigh said as she put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.  "We have to get Qerri home by nine-thirty or she'll turn into a pumpkin and her daddy will give us all a good spanking."

The late summer sun had already dropped behind the western hills and, by the time the three girls were onboard, buckled in and rolling out of the driveway in Kayleigh's little car, the valley was swathed in long shadows and they could see headlights up on the highway ahead.

"Can I play the radio, mama?" asked Tori.

"You ask Qerri, dear.  She's our special guest of honor."

"Sure, that's cool," Qerri answered.  But just as Tori was starting to reach for the radio, however, Kayleigh suddenly slammed on the brakes.   Instinctively, she threw her arm protectively across Tori's car seat.  For, just as they had arrived at the end of the lane and were about to pull out onto the county road, the whole area instantly went ablaze with red and blue flashing lights and the roadway was completely blocked by two police cars and another vehicle, an old pickup truck.

"Oh my god!"  Kayleigh exclaimed.   From out of the shadows, a lone figure approached the driver's side, and Kayleigh rolled the window down just a little ways.  He was mid-twentyish, slender with a ballcap and arms covered with tattoos.   Kayleigh knew instantly what was up while, in the backseat, Qerri's eyes grew as big as saucers and were reflecting the dazzling kaleidoscope of colored flashing lights.

"Kayleigh, get the hell out of the car right now!" the man yelled to her through the partly open window as he attempted to open the locked door.

"Fuck you, Connor!" she screamed as she shot him the finger.  Before he could say another word, she jammed the car in reverse, and gunned it, backing up in the dark all the way to the driveway, with him running after them.  Quickly, she spun it around, did a left turn and, in a cloud of dust, sped away at a high rate of speed.  It all happened so quickly there was little poor Qerri could do but clutch the seat in front of her and hold on for dear life.  Before their pursuers could get turned around, the girls were on down the road and out of sight.

The first dirt road she came to, Kayleigh turned off the lights and swiftly exited the highway, bouncing and weaving through weeds and dust to a point where the trail ended behind an old deserted barn.  And there they parked and sat in the dark, trying to catch their breath, as they waited for the cop cars to zoom past them, up on the highway.

For a few tense moments, they sat there, no one saying a thing.  And then Tori began to cry.

"Mama, I just wet my pants," she sobbed.

"Me, too!" added Qerri from the backseat.

"Me, three!!" said Kayleigh, her head resting on the steering wheel, her eyes closed.  "Me, three."

It was going to be a long night, a very long night indeed!

That's it for Chapter 14.

What happens next?  Well, Qerri and Creek are about to find themselves in the throes of a situation that even a magic moon princess with a young heart and an old soul may not be able to solve. But, then, maybe she can.  We'll see.  It's time for Chapter 15. 

And feel free to comment down below with your ideas and suggestions.

And if you'd like to start a little community of would-be Qerri's and Creek wannabes, let's meet up and discuss it on my old forum:

https://members3.boardhost.com/EROtalk/

Imagine that!  A club full of Qerri's, Creeks and Kayleigh's! (Clean-up on Aisle Nine! Mop, please.)   -  Brandon