Chapter Four

A Lamp in the Wild

(From draft 7, 8/1/2025)

Colorful, shimmering light danced, curious and strange. Her pale skin tingled with its pulsating glow as it wrapped around her like a cocoon. She felt calm, comfortable, peaceful. Was this a dream? A trap? It felt like neither; it felt like nothing she had experienced before. 

Had she experienced anything before? She couldn’t remember….

Fabelle, Fabelle, voices whispered. 

Fabelle… what was that word? It sounded so familiar, and yet… not.

The light danced across the braided crown woven into her hair, flitted up the loose strands that curled around her face, then brushed over her nose and tickled her cheeks. 

Fabelle, Wish of our Heart, help us.

“Help?” She found herself asking. “Who are you?” She blinked. “Who am I?” 

The lights sped up, wheeling around her in a dizzying whirl.

We have lost our Song. 

Yes, our Song.

Will you find it for us?

“Song? I—I don’t understand.”

You are the only one who can, Wish of our Heart.

Go North.

Find our Song.

Go East.

Follow the Star.

Seek the Truth.

Find your way Home.

“Home?” A warm feeling settled into the foundations of her soul. Home.

Be free.

In a flash, the light was ripped away, casting Fable into darkness.

— — —

Wet, cold grass pressed against Fable’s face, and the crisp night air bit through her clothes, chilling her to the bone. 

Where am I? All Fable could remember was a bright light, and before that… 

Fable scrambled to her feet, her backpack unbalancing her as she spun around to face…

Nothing.

Well, not really nothing, just not what she had expected. Instead of the neighborhood street filled with quaint houses, she was in a pile of large rocks. The boulders were rectangular in shape and piled deliberately on top of each other. Twisting vines and prickly weeds grew between the cracks, casting strange shadows against the dark stone.  The stones seemed to outline the remains of an old structure, and right in the center, next to Fable, was a lamppost.

Dazed, Fable looked up at the lamppost looming over her. It was tall and elegant with delicate silver patterns wrapping around a pearlescent post. Flowering out the top was an intricate lamp. Its warped glass encased a bright pulsating light, which rippled and swayed. 

Somehow, the light inside felt… alive.

Why is this even here? Fable wondered. The ruins appeared too old to be powered by electricity, not to mention the clear lack of electrical wires. This shouldn’t be working.

As if it heard her thoughts, the light overhead flickered then went out, casting Fable into darkness. Fable squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding in her chest. Instinctively, she reached for her necklace, pulling it out from its hiding spot and rubbing the purple-teal stone nervously. She forced herself to focus on the soft chirps of the nighttime insects. The sounds of cicadas and tree-frogs had always calmed her when she felt frightened, and she could hear them now, singing softly beyond this fortress of rubble.

A clattering of small stones made Fable jump. Her eyes snapped open, fear shooting through her like a lightning strike. She scrambled over the pile of rubble and ran, not daring to look back as her imagination conjured mountain lions, wolves, and bears charging out from the deep shadows. Only when she was a good hundred feet from the ruins did she slow down and look back. 

Nothing.

Sighing, she turned away from the ruins, looking out across an open field with knee-high grass swaying in a gentle wind.

Then she looked up. 

Her breath caught. 

The sky was awash with stars, more than she had ever seen. Like a million floating crystals sparkling in a bed of black velvet. Fable looked for the constellations she knew well, but she couldn’t find them. There were just too many stars.

Where am I? Fable shivered and pulled her hoodie tight around herself. The chilly wind reminded her that she was only in jeans, t-shirt, and a hoodie—not particularly ideal for a chilly night in the middle of nowhere. 

She had to get home. 

Looking away from the unfamiliar stars, she scanned the clearing.

Now where?

Go North.

I can’t just ‘go North,’ that’s not how getting un-lost works! Fable argued against the random thought. Logically, she should stay where she was and hope that someone would find her—except this was different than getting lost on a hike in the woods with her parents. No one knew she was out here, and her parents…. No one is looking for me, she concluded. She would have to get ‘un-lost’ on her own. 

Fable turned towards the forest, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Visions of wild predators entered her mind again—but what choice did she have? Maybe she could find someone out there, or a road, or something, anything. If she found a house, maybe they would have a phone so she could—

A PHONE!

Quickly, hands fumbling from the cold, she took the smartphone out of her pocket.

See, Dad, she thought as she swiped into the phone’s settings to turn on location tracking. This is why you need a phone! It’s survival gear! Gavin was a big believer in survival gear. He had insisted that her backpack always have a little emergency bag with a compass, flashlight, and a basic first aid kit. She also had water and snacks—she always had snacks.

And now she had a phone, which was great!

Except it couldn’t find a network.

“Nooooo,” Fable groaned, turning it off and then on again. “Please work,” she whispered to the device. “Please.”

NO SIGNAL

“Stupid thing,” Fable muttered, shoving the phone into her backpack. Shivering, she looked around. All she needed was a sign, something that hinted at other people. It could be a plane, telephone wires, light pollution, a literal sign that said ‘people this way,’ anything. 

Then she saw it. 

Over the treetops, dancing in the chilly wind, was a thin trail of smoke. Quickly, she dug in her backpack, pulled out her compass, and checked the direction.

North.

Apparently, her first instinct had been correct.

Sighing, Fable clipped her compass to her backpack and pulled out her flashlight, securing it to her wrist. After a brief moment of hesitation, she pulled out a granola bar and made a quick meal of it, then took a small sip of water. Fed and watered, Fable gripped the straps of her backpack and headed North.

— — —

Large, gnarled trees clawed skywards like old twisted fingers, their roots warping the forest floor. Tangles of undergrowth reached out in the dark, snagging and ripping at Fable’s clothes. Branches ensnared her hair and scraped her skin. Gigantic plants forced her to forge a path around them, making her constantly check her compass. Strange sounds called through the night, sending a chill down her spine. 

Fable felt like the forest was watching her.

For over an hour, Fable tore through the woods. Just as she was beginning to worry that she had missed the campsite, a glimmer of light sparkled through the thick trees. A single small fire sat in the middle of an opening, a thin line of smoke trailing up from it. And there was a person. 

Tied roughly to a thick tree was a boy about her age. He was dressed in rags that looked more appropriate for a Renaissance Fair than a hike through the woods. His skin was covered in dirt and freckles, and his shoulder-length curly hair was matted and dirty. He looked exhausted. The only thing keeping him up was the rope holding his arms painfully back around the tree.

Fable looked around. No one else was in the clearing. Her parents had warned her about kidnappers—they worried about everything. Still, she couldn’t just leave him there, so obviously, she would just have to un-kidnap him. She looked around the clearing. Seeing no one else, she started towards the boy. 

He glanced up, his eyes going wide. 

“Are you okay?” she whispered, quickly approaching.

The boy shook his head frantically. He looked at her, then down at the ground in front of him, kicking at it wildly.

“Shhh, calm down! I’m here to help you.” Fable held her hands up in a calming gesture and took a few steps closer. 

The boy shook his head more fervently. 

Fable didn’t understand. “I'm going to undo your ropes,” she explained in what she hoped was a soothing tone. 

She took one more step forward. 

Suddenly, something swung up around her, ripping her from the ground. Fable screamed as she was hoisted up in a tangle of rope. Her flashlight danced wildly about but stayed attached to her wrist.

What the—a net? Fable started to wriggle desperately, trying to get her limbs untangled. “Why didn’t you TELL me!” She shouted down at the boy.

He cringed, looking away. 

Calm down! Fable closed her eyes and forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Just calm down. She needed to get out of this. But all she had was her flashlight, phone, backpack—which was impossible to access, and—

Dad’s pocket knife!

Fable dug out her father’s knife from her pocket and started slicing at the thick rope. Gavin always kept it sharp, but Fable couldn’t get her hand in a position that made cutting the rope easy. It took ages before she finally made an opening large enough for her to slip through. 

Carefully, Fable folded the knife and stuck it back in her pocket, then wriggled through the new opening, lowering herself to the ground. Victorious, Fable turned towards the boy.

His eyes were wide, locked on something behind her.

“Very clever,” A heavy, raspy voice chuckled. 

Fable spun around, swinging the flashlight up in an attempt to blind the kidnapper, but they were impossibly large. Pain ripped through her head as something collided with it. She caught a brief glimpse of a rocky gray face and yellow eyes towering over her before the darkness claimed her.

— — —

White blinding light seared Fable’s aching head as she opened her eyes. Slowly, she looked around. She was on the ground, her wrists bound behind her and her ankles tied together. Daylight trickled in through a canopy of green, blue, purple, and teal leaves. 

Purple leaves? 

Drearily, she looked at the canopy above her. Yes… purple leaves was correct, as were blue and teal. Confusion fogged Fable’s mind as she closed her eyes against the bright sun. Slowly, the previous night’s events came back to her. The net, the fire, the boy, and the… really large person. 

Fable opened her eyes again and looked around. She was in a camp—a different one than the night before. A pile of stuff was gathered into a wooden open-topped wagon. Mounted onto the wagon's sides were ropes, nets, and traps. Next to it was what looked to be a large, oddly shaped boulder with gray-blue and brown clothes and furs wrapped around it. 

And the mound was… breathing? 

Fable squinted, wishing she could rub the sleep out of her eyes. It was some sort of… She didn’t have a word her brain could comprehend. ‘Troll’ or ‘giant’ seemed too impossible. But the size of the creature was impossible. Fable squirmed, looking around the campsite. 

To her side, tied up the same way she was, lay the boy from the previous night. He was watching her through his blood-soaked mop of dirty blond curls. He glanced quickly at the sleeping mound, then back at Fable. She looked over at their captor and waited silently for it to do something. 

Anything. 

The thing appeared to be sound asleep.

Well, good, she thought. I’m not staying here. ‘Hands tied up’ was escape practice 101 in her parents' survival training. She started wiggling her arms, straining her shoulders back to try to get the rope loose. Slowly—very slowly, one loop slackened enough to squeeze painfully over her hands. Once it was off, the rest of her bonds unraveled. 

Fable sighed in relief, then froze when a grunt came from the direction of the sleeping monster. She bit her lip, not daring to breathe until it started to give off a wheezy snore. 

Slowly, Fable brought her unbound hands to the front of her and pushed herself into a sitting position. She pulled out the pocketknife, snapped it open, and cut away at her ankle bonds. Once free, Fable slipped over to the boy’s side. She held her finger up in front of her lips, and he nodded. He had started trying to copy her own escape, but his bonds were digging into his raw and bloody wrists. Cringing, Fable quickly sawed through the rope binding him. He tried to untie his ankles, but his fingers were clumsy from being tied up for so long.

“Let me do that.” Fable shooed his hands away and started cutting. Once free, he gave her a quick, nervous, lopsided smile. She smiled back and instinctively reached for her necklace.

It wasn’t there.

Panic seized Fable, and she spun around, frantically looking for it. 

The boy put his hand on her shoulder, looking at her quizically. 

“My necklace,” she whispered. “It’s gone.”

He looked at where her hand indicated the missing necklace, then he looked at the sleeping monster. Holding a finger up to his mouth, the boy motioned for her to follow him. They quietly slipped over to the open-top wagon. It was about ten feet long with two handles for the creature to drag it by. Fable held her breath as she watched the boy silently climb into the cart.

Quietly, Fable followed him. 

The cart was loaded with a wide variety of goods. Cups, silverware, plates, vases, tools, chairs, swords, daggers, animal skins, cloth, and more—even a fancy-looking rug. Fable was unsure how she would find her necklace in this horde. The boy quickly found her familiar star-covered purple backpack, then looked curiously at her.

Fable nodded and took it, glad to have it back.

He picked up an empty knapsack and began to fill it with anything that caught his fancy. Fable had the feeling that he wasn’t collecting his own belongings. She started to help him by handing him anything that looked vaguely interesting. He smiled quickly at her and took what she found. A few items in, Fable handed him a silver cup. He reached out to grab it, but fumbled it. The cup clattered to the floor of the cart. 

Heart racing, Fable and the boy ducked down, holding their breath. 

Waiting…

The sleeping creature snuffled and turned towards the cart, its eyes closed. After a minute, a slight, steady wheezing sound began humming out of its nose. 

Relief flooded through Fable. 

The boy slowly looked over the wagon side, his eyes locked on something Fable couldn’t see. Then, quietly, he set down his new bag of treasures, picked up a small dagger, and silently climbed out of the cart to crouch in front of the creature's face. 

Heart in her throat, Fable peered over the cart’s edge. 

The boy’s back was pressed against the cart, his wide eyes locked on the giant. Slowly, shakily, he reached out and carefully lifted a fist-sized pouch from around its neck. Licking his lips nervously, he cut the bag free. 

The monster didn’t stir. 

Slowly, he backed away, gripping the bag tightly. Fable grabbed his loot bag and climbed to the opposite side of the cart from the monster. Shortly after, he slipped around to the same side.

They both pressed their backs against the cart, eyes wide and hearts racing. They looked at each other, neither totally believing what the boy had just done. Hands still shaking, he looked in the bag. Carefully, he pulled out a golden necklace, then held it out for her to look at.

Fable shook her head. “It’s silver,” she whispered.

He frowned, looking confused, then offered the heavy pouch to Fable. She carefully took it and had to hold back a gasp when she peered inside. Beautiful jewels and treasures sparked up at her. Gingerly, she pushed through them until she found the only one that mattered. Fable pulled out the familiar silver-wrapped gemstone and clasped it back in place. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, handing the small bag of treasures back to him.

He glanced at the necklace curiously, then back at her, smiling with a funny, lopsided grin as he put the bag of jewels into his pilfered bag. 

Fable slipped her pendant under her shirt. “Please don’t tell anyone about my necklace.” The idea that he might tell someone else terrified her. Fable hadn’t even shown Anika the necklace.

The boy nodded as he put his new bag on his back. As she got up, Fable’s foot slipped out from under her. With a shout, she crashed against the cart. An endless cascade of items shifted and collapsed against each other, breaking the silence of the morning. Fable and the boy stumbled away from the wagon as the gray giant rose, and rose, and rose. Its eyes locked on them, rage burning deep inside.

They were so dead.

Chapter Five: Coming Soon