The Good Old Days

You are invited!

Willa, Daughter of Rane, is hosting a cookie exchange!

No potato cookies allowed.

Minimum: 1 dozen.

Maximum: 3 rabbit sets

December 10^th

Year of the Primrose.

RSVP

Bunsy stared at the little green card. RSVP.

He hadn't responded.

But he was here anyway.

He put the invitation back in his pocket. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she was sorry. Maybe she forgot who he was. Maybe she just liked his cookies. He didn't know.

The stool in the corner was soft and squishy. How come he never remembered to water his? Everyone watered their mushrooms. That's a girl's job, a small voice pointed out, but he shushed it quickly and looked around, half-worried that someone had heard his thoughts.

No one so much as looked at him. It was like he was just another tree in the courtyard. Mushrooms and marzipan... there she was.

She was just as agile as he remembered her to be. Those sinewy hands; long, muscular arms; confident step; gentle eyes. Bunsy wondered if she even remembered all that they'd been through.

Willa didn't look at him. Didn't even turn his way. Reluctantly, he rose and put his cookies on the table. In the back corner. For some reason... it didn't feel right to place them front and center. Almost like a sign that said, “I came at your call. I will still do anything for you.” just because they had been together on...

“Alright, the contest is about to begin!”

Contest? What contest? Willa was standing on a chair, her forest green dress rustling slightly in the breeze. He wanted to shout, “Remember the yellow cliff?” but he kept to himself. She didn't even know he was here.

“I have appointed three judges: myself, Forly Harber, and Zizzle Putts.” at this, there were murmurs of surprise. Willa and Forly were acknowledged experts. But Zizzle was a pronounced vagabond with no known backstory. It was said that Willa met her long ago, but no one was sure. Bunsy, on his stool, closed his eyes. If he could just go back to the old days... Willa was still speaking. “The winner will receive a special cookie kit and a surprise. We will have seven more places as well, all of which will be rewarded accordingly. May the best baker win!”

The people flocked to the tables, making sure their cookies were in perfect arrangement – and that the taste hadn't changed at all – before the judges took one from each plate.

A long half hour passed for the inhabitant of the mushroom stool. Well, for all those in the courtyard. Refreshments were available but few ate or drank.

“Goppy Dumble, please come forward.” Willa's voice rang out clear and commanding. Bunsy recalled the day with the mini giants and the custard. She had really shown on that... “Huffle Boran, you're next.”

The calling continued. Bunsy listened, then dozed.

A creaking noise woke him from his slumber. The sun had dropped slightly, and there were fewer gnomes scuttling to and fro from cookie platter to cookie platter. Seven proud contestants sat at a table of honor, their prizes at their feet. No one mentioned the fact that there were only seven. What about the winner?

There. The something creaked again.

Bunsy looked around, stretching slightly. Willa was nowhere in sight. When he turned, a small, ivy-covered gate swung invitingly in the wall of the courtyard. Eyes wide, he jerked his head around. Just the wind. She wouldn't remember. It had been three cycles. Three cycles. Such small matters as they had between them were easily forgotten... right?

The gate swung once more. Someone had better shut that.

He looked around once more and smoothed his beard slightly. It wouldn't do to let it hang open. Bunsy thought perhaps he should investigate a little as well. To make sure nothing was amiss. It wasn't the signal. It couldn't be.

Quietly, he padded around the mushroom, peeked around the doorway, and stepped through the gate. A trellis-covered walkway lay before him. He wouldn't get lost... he had been here too many times for that. Down the walkway, right at the fork, two doors down... his memory led him there.

A map lay on the table. A lamp sat on the bench. One of the keys on the hanger was glowing. Just like the good old days.

Bunsy couldn't help himself. He grabbed a notebook and a pen from the box where they were kept. The Register stood where it always did. The key came off the hook. And any idea of the passage of time went out the window.

“Three stars, six dots, a carnation.” he muttered to himself, tracing the design on the key.

“I thought it was a dahlia.”

“No, it's a carnation. Remember, dahlias never go with stars. They're with clouds.”

“Oh, I forgot.”

“That's why I'm here.”

“Why are you here?”

Bunsy froze. He looked up slowly, his cheeks bright blue. “Willa?”

The gnomel responded with a hug. “I missed you!”

“I guess I missed you too.”

“Why did I leave? Can you remind me?”

“You know, I've been asking myself that question for the last three cycles. When Luthy... I knew you were hit hard. I just didn't expect you to leave the squad entirely.”

“Well, would it be okay if I joined again?”

Pushing back her hair, Bunsy went to the table again.

“We have a mission, my friend. Do you think I'll say no? You're the destined leader.”

“And you're the best gnome I know. I knew you would win first prize.”

He stopped and stared at her, “What?”

Willa, smiling, pulled a box from beneath the table.

She dumped out the swords, daggers, axes, sling-shots, shields and bolas. “Remember this cookie kit?”

“Remember the Spine-troll cookies we made with that cookie kit?”

She smacked her lips jokingly. “Do I ever! And Zizzle stepped on one!” she burst into giggles. Bunsy laughed too.

“When are we leaving?”

“In the morning.”

“Are you ready for something like this?”

“Bunsy, I've been ready for three cycles.”

The two gnomes sat next to each other.

Willa snuggled closer.

“Did you like your surprise, Bunsy?”

“It's the best surprise ever.

Just like the good old days.”