"ORLA!"

The dragon loomed over the prone agent. After an agonizing pause, she moved her head.

"Oswald?"

She lifted her visor.

"Oswald! Stay back! This beast will devour you unless you flee immediately!"

"Mi can't! Mi haffi save you!"

Orla blinked. "What?"

Oswald shook his head

"Just tell mi wah tuh do!"

"There is nothing you can do, brave Oswald!" Orla shouted back. The dragon roared, gouging the ground, digging deep ravines with its claws. "I twisted my ankle upon parachuting here and before I could reach safety, this monster was upon me! I dropped my un-dragoninator and the dragon is standing upon it!" The dragon snapped at her. She tried to fend it off with a stick but it broke the stick into pieces with one bite. "I fear I am done for, my sweet, noble Oswald! Tell Opal and Omar I died as I lived, questing for adventure!"

"No! No, mi cyaa let him get you!"

He spotted the handle of the un-dragoninator sticking out from underneath one of the dragon's webbed, warty toes.

"There have fi be sup'm mi cya do... Aha!"

Oswald broke off a long, pointy branch from a charred tree. He turned it over in his hands, gathering his nerve. Then, yelling like a maniac, he ran forward and hurled the branch straight at the dragon's eye. He missed, but came close enough to get its attention. It roared with irritation, charging toward him.

"Ohhhh... Dat did a mistake..."

#

The interior of the old crone's hovel was shadowy and dark but surprisingly roomy. It had a dirt floor with weeds growing in some places and smelled strongly of wet mud. She led Omar to a wooden chair next to a crude table and bid him sit down. She sat down opposite him.

"Uh, ma'am? I gotta find my friend, she could be in trouble..."

"Your right hand tells me your future. Your left hand tells me your past." She reached across the table and gently seized his wrist. "Give me your left hand. I wish to see your past."

"Huh? Oh, y'mean like palm-reading? Cool!" He smiled.

Crows perched in the rafters of the dilapidated old hovel. The old woman studied the lines on Omar's palm.

"You are an entire five-pound bag of Sour Patch Kids in one sitting?" She looked at him. "You must have gotten very ill."

"Yeah," Omar mused. "Totally worth it, though..."

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"And there are the high-fusion polychromatic lawn ornaments..."

The muskrat had Opal by one hand and was pulling her along, quietly but pointedly digging in its claws whenever Opal tried to slacken her pace or break away from him.

"Um, Mister, um..."

"Muskrat, honey. Elon Muskrat."

Opal winced. "Elon Muskrat. Because why not?" Then to the muskrat. "Look, I've really gotta find my friend..."

And then that's when she saw the bizarre creature sauntering out of a makeshift barn behind a barbed wire fence. It moved stiffly and awkwardly and was made out of elaborately folded dollar bills.

"WHAT in the...?"

"Not many people have the intellectual capacity to appreciate Origami. I, of course, love it. It's one of my favorite sports. Well..." He pulled out a bucket and shoved it into Opal's hands. "Here you are. Get to milking."

"But I..."

"And be brisk about it. We've lost the better part of the day here!"

#

The old crone studied Omar's right hand.

"Ah... Ah... I see..." She folded Omar's fingers into his palm like closing a book. "You have led quite an adventurous life, young man. And I fear your adventures are far from over."

"Yeah," Omar smiled. "I know. I'm with the Odd Squad Mobile Unit. It's great!"

"Yes. Well," she picked a small, shimmering pink rock off the ground and handed it to him. "Take this. You may need it later."

Omar studied the rock a moment. "Oh, like a souvenir? Thanks!"

She rose, helping Omar to his feet. "And the white-striped boy's battle is harder than you can ever know. Take care he does not fall."

"Um... Okay...?"

She ushered him to the door. "Your friend is to the west, but you cannot reach her now. You should go back to your conveyance and wait."

"What?" He checked his watch. "Oh gosh, I didn't know it was so late! I gotta go, ma'am! Thanks!"

"Thank you, young man. It is a pleasure to meet one so pure of heart."

"Hey, thanks!" He struggled with the door.

"It means we shall have to remain hungry, but still..."

Omar stopped. "Wait. WHAT?"

"Never mind." She opened the door for him. One of the crows emerged from the cluster perched in the rafters and flew out before him.

"Follow the bird. She will lead you home. Farewell."

"Uh, thanks?" Not quite sure what just happened, Omar emerged back into the forest. "Wait! What about Orla? I was supposed to be looking for her."

"The bird flies!" She pointed to the bird disappearing into the distance. "You must hurry! Your friends will join you if they can!"

"Um, okay!" Looking from the bird back to her, he ran off. "Bye!"

She watched him leave. "And if they cannot join him," she muttered to herself as she gnashed her surprisingly sharp teeth. "They might very well make tasty treats for an old woman's larder." She glared at Omar with rheumy, red-rimmed eyes. "I only hope their hearts are not as pure as that one, so their flesh and blood will not be poison to the likes of us..."

She leaned on her staff and watched Omar vanish over the horizon.

"A pity. He looked so delicious."

She hobbled back into her hovel.

#

Meanwhile, Oswald was running from a ferocious fire-breathing dragon.

"Dis a NAH ow mi expect di day tuh go!"

He just barely dodged a blast of fire. The dragon screeched and Oswald did likewise.

"OSWALD!"

Orla struggled to rise, desperate to save her partner. But her battered body refused to stand. Gritting her teeth, she attempted to focus past the pain, only to fall backward against the ground.

"Oswald... Oh, Oswald..." Then she spotted it. "Oswald! The un-dragoninator!"

Oswald saw the shiny white gadget lying on the ground, still miraculously intact. He nodded to Orla. Then he swallowed hard, clenched his fists, and took off running toward it.

"OH, MI HATE DIS, MI HATE DIS, MI HATE DIS, MI A GUH DIE!"

The dragon was close behind, snapping at his heels.

"Oswald! The dragon!"

Dodging another blast of fire, Oswald leapt and pounced on the un-dragoniator.

"Get it! Nyam gadget, dragon!"

He turned it over, pointed it, and fired. The dragon blurred and vanished.

"You did it!" Orla gasped, smiling at Oswald. "You saved my life!"

Panting and gasping, Oswald nodded. "Yeah. Mi tink mi a guh cry now..."

Getting his breath, he went over and helped his partner to her feet.

#

"Come on, come on, faster! More!"

The muskrat prodded Opal, who had somehow found herself sitting on a stool milking the Origami creature.

"Come ON! We gotta make up for lost time!"

Coins rained down from the creature, clattering into the pail.

Opal stared. "What IS this?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's a cash cow! And I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth!" He grabbed the now-full pail, poured the coins into his burrow, and handed the now-empty pail back to Opal. "Come on, come on! Keep going!"

Opal stood up. "I don't have time for this! My friend is missing and..." She checked her watch. "Oh no! I've got to get back to the van!"

The muskrat thrust the pail at her. "Yeah, yeah. Before that, you hafta..."

Opal gritted her teeth. "I'm SORRY but I DON'T HAVE TIME!" She pushed the pail back into his paws. "Why don't YOU milk her if you're in such a hurry?"

"ME?" The muskrat recoiled, mortally offended. "I don't milk cows! I'm management!"

Opal was already running back in the direction she came. The muskrat cursed and tossed the pail to the ground.

"Blast it! People just don't want to work any more!"

He put a 'Help Wanted' sign on a nearby tree and started setting snare traps.

"It's the socialist economy, that's what it is..."

#

"There..." Orla pointed to a stream in the distance that shimmered with a strange golden light. "That way, young Oswald..."

Oswald nodded. With Orla leaning on him, they hobbled toward the water. He struggled to bear her weight and Orla did her best to manage as much as she could on her own.

Eventually, they reached a large rock near the water. Orla sat down and removed her helmet.

"Fill this with water and bring it to me. Then we should be able to continue."

Oswald did what he was told, also pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and washing his sweat-soaked face.

"Here. But I don't..." Oswald almost dropped the helmet in shock. "I... I can talk again! I'm cured!"

"Aye, my good Oswald," Orla said, taking the helmet. "This is a spring of healing waters. And once I have washed my wounds away, we shall set forth once more!"

"That's great!" Oswald exulted. Then he noticed the mists rising around them. "Uh... What time is it?"

#

"Opal! Over here!"

Standing by the van, Omar waved to his partner off in the distance. She ran over to him.

"Did you see Orla?"

Omar shook his head. "Nah. I met this real nice witch lady, though. She gave me this cool rock!" He showed her the rock.

"I didn't have much luck either!" Opal looked around. "Where's Oswald?"

"I don't think he's back yet." Omar searched the horizon as mist started to rise around them. "He'd better hurry! I don't think we have much time!"

Opal grabbed her badge-phone.

#

"Right!" Oswald said into his phone. "We're on our way!"

Hooking his badge back onto his suit, he hurried over to Orla, who was still washing with the magic water.

"Orla, we've got to go RIGHT NOW!" He looked at the mist thickening around them. "We've only got a couple minutes before the island goes back into its other dimension and we're trapped here forever!"

"Let us make haste then!" Now healed, Orla leapt to her feet. "Which way is the van?"

Oswald looked around. "Uhhhhh..."

#

Opal and Omar climbed into the van, peering through the open door into the mist.

"AGENTS!" Van Computer shouted. "WE NEED TO LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!"

Opal searched desperately. "Do you see them?"

Omar strained. "I can't see anything!"

#

Orla and Oswald ran through the forest, stumbling as the billowing fog engulfed them.

"HURRY, OSWALD! RUN WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT!"

"WE JUST GOTTA MAKE IT TO THE VAN! WE GOTTA!"

#

"AGENTS! WE ARE LEAVING IN TWENTY SECONDS! NINETEEN... EIGHTEEN... SEVENTEEN!"

"Where are they?" Shouted Opal, almost sobbing. "We can't just leave them!"

"SIXTEEN... FIFTEEN... FOURTEEN..."

"I don't see them!" Omar clutched his rock tight in his fist. "Man, I wish they'd get here!"

Suddenly, the rock turned hot, burning Omar's hand so badly he dropped it. "Ow!"

And at that exact same second, Oswald and Orla burst out of the fog. Omar and Opal grabbed them, pulled them into the van, and shut the door.

"Man! Are we glad to see you!" Oswald gasped. "Weird, though. I didn't think we were anywhere near here!"

"VAN LEAVING IMMEDIATELY!" The van ascended through the fog, eventually emerging into the sky over the ocean. Behind them, the mists blew away, taking the island with them.

"Man! That was wild!" Omar sighed. "Still, I got a pretty cool souvenir from it... huh?"

Omar picked up the rock he'd dropped. It was now a dull red.

"This is freaky. When the old witch lady gave it to me, I could've sworn it was a different color!"

"The old... witch... lady?" Oswald pulled out his book and started flipping through the pages, getting progressively paler. "The Morrigan?"

Omar set the rock down on his souvenir shelf, then turned to face the others. "What?"

"Let's... just not think about it right now, okay?" Opal collapsed into the nearest chair. "Van Computer! Take us home!"

The Van sailed through the sky back toward the North American Continent.

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