Sally had seen quite a few strange things over the years–Chaos Emeralds, magic scrolls and weapons, people turned to machines, Charles's Power Rings rising from the lake every twelve hours–but those preceded from the world of King Max and the people he knew, what Sally thought of as "the real world". Crystal balls, mutant spiders, mad stewards, and smiling Nothings that terrorized young girls were, Sally sensed, from a time completely alien to her own, in a way that made her fur stand on end.
She tried to brush the feeling off. She'd figure it out, she always did. And hopefully before anything else happens.
As Sally walked through the cool, pine-scented evening air of Knothole, she heard the buzz of people–her people–through the trees, doing final preparations for the coming week. She couldn't help grinning: in the days of King Max, the Feast of the Green Decree hadn't been a popular holiday among the common people. Under Sally's leadership, it was practically a second Yule.
Until Robotnik, the Mobians of the Acorn Kingdom had largely lived an urban lifestyle. Some had houses, most had apartments, and the population was concentrated in cities.
These cities–most of all, Mobotropolis–absorbed the smaller towns and villages as they sprawled outward and shot skyward. And though the Acorn kings and queens had designated generous amounts of land for national parks, it never sat right with them to see those parks become islands of green in a concrete landscape.
The Great Forest was the largest and most zealously protected of these parks, a rough crescent of green spanning nearly a hundred thousand square miles from Dearcán Bay in the south, to the razor-sharp stones of the Duillic Hills in the north. On the southwestern curve of the crescent, a bare fifty miles deep into these hallowed woods, lay Knothole.
And here, it was like Sally had stepped into the bedtime stories King Max had read to her. Mobians here lived in burrows underground, in wooden lean-tos and cabins, or in "nests," houses made of living tree branches that were cultivated into crude, hollow spheres. Such was Sally's abode in Knothole.
Amy, however, lived in a small burrow, dug into the side of a small, bald hill on the south end of this hidden town. It had two small, round windows on the north and south sides, a round, blue front door, and a mud brick chimney that stuck five feet out of the ground on the upper slope of the hill.
A thin wisp of smoke rose from it. Despite the fact that the sun was just now dipping below the horizon, light blazed from the small windows, bright as a bonfire in pitch darkness. And by the north window, Sally saw a small but heavy-looking generator growling away.
As Sally neared the door, the smoke touched her nose. She smelled…What? Cinnamon? No. Sandalwood? Clove? What was that? She knocked. "Amy?"
A bright, cheerful answer. "Be right there!"
Moments later, the door opened. First there was light. Not the warm, pleasant glow of the gem in her vest, but a harsh, white beam that clapped her eyes shut and made the darkness behind her eyelids red.
Then a warm, gagging cloud of fragrance rolled over her, linen, sandalwood, apples, peppermint, cloves, cinnamon, woodsmoke!
"Oh, sorry!" The white beam turned off. "Sal, you okay?" Amy asked.
Sally didn't answer: she was too busy coughing out the sudden assault on her lungs! How is she still standing?
When she did finally stop coughing, Sally straightened, and saw Amy for the first time: the girl was holding a huge, black flashlight with a wide head. "Did you put a searchlight in your house?"
"A searchlight? Oh, you mean this?" Amy waved the flashlight. "Borrowed it from Tails."
"With or without his permission?" Sally rasped.
Amy looked mildly offended. "With!" Then her head whipped about, as if she were suddenly aware of being hunted. "Quick, in here!"
Before Sally could respond, Amy grabbed her hand and led her inside the burrow, shutting the door with a loud thunk.
Nuts, more so than usual, Sally thought, Sonic, you are a master of understatement. Her house is a kaleidoscope.
The burrow was made up of four short tunnels in a rough box shape, and each corner had been widened into a room. Lining the walls was a steady rainbow of scavenged Yule lights; dozens of thick scented candles and incense sticks burned on nearly every flat surface in the living room, save the floor.
And where there were no lights, Amy had placed mirrors, or otherwise furiously-polished pieces of scrap metal. As Amy led her to the tiny kitchen, Sally realized that these pieces were all strategically placed: they bounced light into corners that would normally be dim, even if the rest of the burrow were fully illuminated.
This was not the product of an excessively festive mood: Amy had turned her burrow into a fortress of light. And the puffy, purple bags under her eyes told Sally that she'd barely slept in this fortress.
"How 'bout some tea?" Amy asked, her smile bright as her home, and tight across her face. Her pupils were tiny. "Gotta stay awake for the party, don't we?" She lifted an old, steaming kettle off the wood stove in the corner and began pouring.
Sally had quickly adjusted to the choking fragrances. But the lights were making her eyes hurt. Gently, she asked: "Amy?"
Amy turned around too fast, accidentally spilling one of the mugs on the floor. "Yeah, Sal?"
"Can you turn down some of these lights?"
Amy stiffened, her eyes growing huge and wild.
Sally tensed, bracing herself to dodge the cups.
Instead, the hunted look dropped away, and Amy's tight smile returned, even tighter. "Of course!" she chirped, before taking up the flashlight again, and hurrying away.
Sally followed at a distance. Just before Amy rushed out the door, she saw the great Piko Hammer appear in the pink hedgehog's offhand.
The princess retreated back to the kitchen, thinking as she searched the drawers for dishrags to clean up the spill. Whatever was causing her own nightmares, whatever warning or threat behind them, it now seemed a small matter next to what Amy was dealing with.
The generator's growl quieted to a low hum, and the lights finally dimmed to a level Sally's eyes could tolerate.
When Amy returned, she had her deck of tarot cards instead of the flashlight in her hands. She'd stowed the hammer. "Thanks, Sal. Sorry about that." She yawned. "I was about to do a reading, want one too?"
Sally wanted to refuse: she didn't have to deal with this, and honestly she didn't have the time to. She could have called Vanilla, and followed up on Amy's strange behavior after tonight's festivities.
But something told her not to. Whether it was her sense of justice–after all, Sally had ordered Amy to look through the crates herself–or pity, Sally couldn't tell. But instead of refusing, she said: "Sure."
Some tightness left Amy's smile. "Great!"
They soon sat on the floor of the hot, now less-bright living room. "Branoc Cross?" Amy offered. "It's ten cards, nothing too deep."
Sally checked her comm: the time read 5:50 PM. The official Freedom Fighter meeting that opened the Feast of the Green Decree was at 7:00 PM. "Let's stick to five cards each," she said, not knowing exactly whether that was a real setup in tarot readings.
At any rate, Sally was glad to hear the Branoc name in a card game that supposedly told the future: on top of the story about him tricking the ogre, King Branoc Acorn had many legends that emphasized his vast knowledge, uncanny foresight, and the painful lengths he often went to get it.
One of the most harrowing of these legends had been about him plucking out an eye and tossing it into a ring of golden mushrooms, so that the spirits that inhabited the ring would grant him complete knowledge of the past. The story also went that this act is what gave the mushrooms–now known as "mad caps"–their power when consumed.
Legitimate cheer was in Amy's voice now. "Okay, double-reading it is!" She gave the cards an expert series of shuffles, then laid a row of five before Sally.
When Sally went to flip one over, Amy deftly tapped her hand away. "Ah-ah-ah! We'll each flip one together, I know you're in a rush."
"Am I now?" Sally asked as five more cards were laid into the floor.
"Well, the party, and the meeting…" Amy trailed off. "I'm sorry, this was a stupid thing to spring on you now."
Sally shook her head, and offered a small, reassuring smile. "I'm the princess. Everyone waits on me anyway."
Amy's smile became fully genuine. "Thanks, Sal. Now, let's flip over The Present." She tapped the card Sally has tried to draw, then hers. "Ready?"
"Ready." Sally flipped her card over, as did Amy. "What are we looking at?"
"A good sign!" Amy said, "You've drawn The Empress."
Sally scanned the card. A gold-furred doe smiled enigmatically back at her, robed in white silks and crowned with a silver tiara. She stood in front of a tall throne that seemed woven together from tree branches and bright green vines. Her left hand was palm-out, as if to say Peace, Princess Sally Acorn. The Empress's right hand was upon her heart, and upon the hand was a silver ring, set with a white diamond.
"Why is it a good sign?" Sally asked.
"Oh, she's the mother of the deck," Amy explained, "She's all about strength, kindness, and growth."
"And that's my Present?" Sally asked, as she laid the card down. "It fits, not to toot my own horn."
"Yep!" Amy said with a laugh.
Sally glanced at Amy's Present card. "What's that?"
"That's…" Amy's laugh was weaker now. "That's The Moon."
"What does it mean?"
"The subconscience. Illusions." Amy gulped. "Sh-shadows."
"Subconscious?" Sally corrected automatically, before Amy's fear at the word "shadows" fully registered. So that's what she's been trying to hide from, Sally realized. "Shadows," she said, nodding. "Okay."
Amy went to the next card before Sally could ask her to elaborate. "These are The Challenge," she said quickly, "It's the immediate obstacle facing the querent."
Sally flipped hers, and Amy followed suit. Sally's card appeared to be a bronze compass, with strange symbols in place of the N-S-W-E that marked the cardinal directions, while Amy's–
Sally paused. On the face of Amy's card was a mockery of The Empress, a red, hideous humanoid creature that lounged on a jagged stone throne, grinning maniacally up at her.
"You drew the Wheel of Fortune," Amy said, "but it's reversed. Your current challenge is bad luck." She made a face. "Anything happen today?" Then she tensed. "Do you have asthma? I should've asked, that cough didn't sound so good, here, I'll just…" Amy began to rise, but Sally made a placating gesture.
"Nothing's happened yet," Sally lied. Only found out that a fairy tale might be actual history, and that there might be a spell written on my arm. "What did you draw?"
"The Devil," Amy sighed.
"The Devil? What does that mean?"
"Temptation, bondage." Her eyes lingered on the card. Softly, more to herself than Sally, she added. "That sounds about right."
Sally waited, again feeling a pang of guilt for having Any look through those crates, and finding what Tails called "palantir". Shadows. Bondage. She saw again the pale, blank horror on Amy's face from that night, heard her scream again in her mind. Amy, I'm sorry you ever saw those things.
Amy was silent for a long time, as her fingers lightly traced the card. She sniffed.
Gently, Sally took her hand. "It's okay. It's just a card, right?"
Amy shook her head. "No, it's accurate. Sal, I–" she looked up at Sally, her eyes glassy. "It's accurate." She gestured at the various lights and candles around the burrow. "I know all this is nuts. I know how it looks. Tails thinks I'm crazy, I saw it in his eyes, I can't help it!"
"Sshh." Quietly, Sally drew her into a hug. Amy didn't resist, but she also didn't return the embrace. "He doesn't think that. He is worried about you, but he doesn't think that."
"Sal, I…" Amy's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Sal, I can't stand the dark anymore."
"I know," Sally replied softly. "I know. Tails told me about what you saw. I'm sorry."
Amy sniffled harder, frowning away the impulse to cry. "It's stupid. Every dark corner feels like it's watching me, like something's in there, waiting for the chance to jump out and eat me."
"Any nightmares?" Sally asked carefully.
"Yeah."
"What about?"
"That." Amy's expression darkened. "Teeth in the shadows."
The words that Tails reported to her, echoed in Sally's mind. There's a piece of me in its teeth. Sally glanced around. "Does it feel like that right now, with the lights dimmed?"
Amy huffed out her confession: "Not as much. Not while you're here."
Sally nodded. "Not as much. Okay." She suddenly smiled. "You don't have to be alone here, you know. You can come with me to the meeting, play bodyguard with Bunnie."
Amy's trembling lips turned upward, into a hopeful smile as she extracted herself from the hug. "You mean it?"
"Yes. There'll be a nice, big bonfire at the party, lanterns everywhere, people to talk to, hot food, everything."
Hope gave way to fear again. "But it'll be pitch black out after that."
"Then Tails and I will walk you home." An idea came to Sally then.
The gem in Sally's vest warmed, feeling like a beam of summer sunlight on her chest.
It was a bad idea. She knew it, rationally.
But seeing Amy like this, trying to stave off the dark with so many lesser lights and suffocating, artificial aromas…I have to stop this tonight, she thought, with a conviction that actually startled her. And there's only one way to do that.
"We'll have a surprise to show you, too, in Tails's shop."
Fear gave way to relief, then curiosity. "A surprise?"
"Yes,"Sally said, before she could stop herself. What am I saying? You don't know if it will do anything. She might get your nightmares too, just– "We found something besides that crystal ball. Something nice and bright."
Amy relaxed somewhat. "Okay." She looked at the unflipped cards. "Do we have time to finish?"
Sally checked her comm again. "Not enough, I'm afraid. Are you coming?"
Hope sprouted into gratitude on Amy's face. "Sure. I'll be underdressed, but–"
"You'll be fine," Sally said as she stood, bringing Amy with her. "We'll get you painted up after the meeting, okay?"
For the first time, all the tightness left Amy's features. "Alright. Let's blow out all these candles first."
Sonic was a hedgehog of many physical talents: running, swimming, smashing robots, blowing minute-long raspberries at Robotnik's security cameras; he could do it all. But somehow, people were always surprised when they saw him climb up a tree, and start hopping between the branches.
He preferred taller trees and thicker canopies for this activity, and Knothole was one of the best places to do it. But right now, the Blue Blur wanted to just sit on one of the long, broad boughs with his back to the trunk, and take in all the activity going on fifty feet below him.
Plus, he wanted to get in some guitar practice. The blisters given to him by that glowing jewel Sal found had healed up nicely, turning to little calluses beneath his gloves.
Sonic knew Sal wasn't telling him everything. Every night since Degrath, he'd heard her whimpering in her sleep in the bed next to his, and he'd always been there with a hand to hold and a tender kiss when she woke up.
He also noticed how Sally played off the markings on her arm as a new tattoo whenever someone asked. She'd laugh, ask if it looked good, and move the conversation on to something else, but he saw the restrained fear in her eyes.
And Amy... He immediately regretted saying she was "nuts" to Sally, when Tails had told him what she'd seen in that crystal ball. But what other word was there?
Over the worn main path that snaked through Knothole, amid rows of paper lanterns and the odd torch staked into the ground, Bunnie was running–skipping, really–and dragging Antoine with her. Small groups of Freedom Fighters and civilians shifted to the edges of the path to let them pass, and Sonic realized that the two were headed toward Tails's place.
He grinned proudly after them. Good job, Ant. Sonic hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the happy couple's engagement, but Ant had told him tonight was the night, and he'd been curious to see if Bunnie would say yes.
What Sonic hadn't expected, was to hear Bunnie sing. She just didn't. And she had such a nice voice, why was she shy about it? With a voice like that, she'd win the sing-off every year! Bunnie probably had her reasons, but still…he'd have to ask.
Idly, Sonic strummed out a few chords, trying to decide on something to play. He had a few guitars, one of them a cherry red electric guitar he'd saved long ago, from a bombed-out music shop in Robotropolis.
The one now in his hands was acoustic, with strings he'd taken from the same music shop, but the body and neck was one hundred percent Made in Knothole. Rotor had surprised him with it in the early days of Sally's Freedom Fighters, when they were all still kids.
Sonic found his hands picking out the ditty Bunnie had sung, "Wild Mountain Thyme". But then, he decided it was a bit too slow for his taste. Another tune popped into his head, one he'd often heard Vanilla hum. His hands shifted to strumming. Under his breath, he sang:
Inch by inch, row by row,
Gonna make this garden grow,
Someone bless these seeds I sow,
'Fore the rains start tum-bl-in' down.
Sonic's ears pricked up, as he realized that a soft, rich tenor voice was singing with him. He looked down: twenty feet below, a brass-furred deer, with long, curly golden hair and pale antlers sat on a bough on the tree opposite himself. He had some kind of lute in his hands, and he was dressed in a fine green tunic, dark grey pants, and a maroon cloak or cape.
Sun and moon, grow 'er soon,
Send your light, grant me your boon,
Warm the ground ere from chill I swoon
And the rains come a-tumbling down.
Their eyes met, and the buck smiled. "That perch seems rather perilous, young hedgehog," he called.
"Perch?" Sonic asked with theatrical confusion, "Where do you see a fish?"
The buck paused, apparently processing that Sonic was joking, and then snorted. "Over yonder flames, certainly," he said, indicating the flickering glow of the bonfire through the trees to his right. "They smell wonderful."
Sonic inhaled: there was a hint of crisping fish in the air, but not enough to break through the pine resin. Still, it reminded Sonic that he was getting hungry.
The buck continued, strumming with the tune Sonic was playing. "But that is quite a way to fall. Would you not come down?"
Sonic raised an eyebrow, then smiled back. "This is nothing. Watch this!" He stood on the bough, and another tune popped into his head. He began to strum it out, as he began to walk away from the trunk.
Young hedgehog, Sonic thought, Guy must not be from around here. Everyone in the Freedom Fighters knew Sonic by reputation, and he was used to everyone addressing him by name. Was it possible a few didn't know what he looked like? "Do you know who I am, bud?" Sonic asked.
The deer shook his head, politely curious. "Should I?"
Sonic blinked, then grinned. If this deer didn't already know who Sonic the Hedgehog was, he'd know now.
Another tune popped into his head, as he hopped to another bough. The perfect one, in fact. His strumming picked up speed, and he hopped to another bough, and another, and another.
Dance, dance, wherever you may be,
"I am the Lord of the Dance," said he!
I lead you all, wherever you may be,
"I am the Lord of the Dance," said he!
All the while, Sonic's feet criss-crossed, his knees bending up and down after each hop. He glanced down, taking joy in the shock on the deer's face. More Freedom Fighters had gathered on the ground to watch the show.
I danced from my mother on the day of my birth,
I danced to and fro and up and down in the earth
I danced up a mountain all the way to the sky
And I danced to the sun, but don't ask me why!
Then another tune, one even faster, came to Sonic. The hedgehog noted the four sturdiest boughs near him, and picked out a fifth a little further away. The tune flowed from his mind into his fingers, and his hopping between the branches turned to skipping.
Sonic looked down to absorb more of the deer's shock, and perhaps deliver another smart remark, when he saw that the deer had vanished.
"Well met, Lord of the Dance."
Sonic nearly lost his footing: the deer was now at the same height in the treetops that he was, strolling across the boughs toward him and playing his lute with a soft, genial smile. Guy's quicker than he looks, Sonic thought with genuine admiration.
But speed wasn't the only thing that set this brass-furred buck apart: Sonic realized he was taller than him, closer to Vanilla or Vector's height than his own.
And when the buck landed lightly on the bough beside him, Sonic then noticed his eyes: blue they were, intelligent, wide, and wholesomely youthful, like Tails or Sally's eyes…yet, Sonic felt, unbelievably old.
Sonic shook the feeling off, still strumming. "Gotta name, bud?"
The buck's smile widened as he matched the faster tune. "Im Yavandíl. Though you may call me Felagund, if you wish."
Sonic tasted the name, and liked it. "Call me 'Sonic,'" he said, extending a hand. The buck shook it firmly. "Wanna duel?"
The deer's eyebrows came up. "I meant no offense, young hedgehog, I simply–"
Sonic laughed. "Duel. Like this." He then gave a few exaggerated, dramatic strums. Their growing audience began to cheer.
Felagund looked around, and laughed too. "A bard's duel, is it? Say no more."
Bard's duel? Though Sonic understood what he meant, the phrase sounded rather archaic to Sonic's ears. But what the hey: maybe he was from the Deep Forest out east, where a lot of people still talked like that.
Sonic called out to the audience below: "Clap faster, guys!" He demonstrated, and the audience followed his lead before Sonic took up his guitar again. "Can you keep up?" he asked Felagund.
"As best I can," the buck answered.
With that, Sonic launched into the next tune:
All the gods' creatures got a place in the choir,
Some sing low and some sing higher,
Some sing out loud on a telephone wire,
Some just clap their hands or paws
Or anything they got now!
Sonic began skipping in reverse, adding pirouettes to each landing. He expected Felagund to follow: instead, the buck lightly hopped from bough to bough, counterclockwise to Sonic.
Listen to the top where the little birds sing
On the melodies and the high notes ringin'
And the hoot-owl cries over everything,
And the jaybird disagrees!
Though the deer was not as fast as he was, Sonic noticed that the branches would barely bounce whenever Felagund landed on them. And it was clear that Felagund was having an absolute blast.
It's a simple song o' living, sung everywhere
By the ox and the fox and the grizzly bear,
By the dopey alligator and this 'hog above,
By the sly raccoon and the turtledove!
As Sonic and the deer danced through the trees, so did their instruments, Sonic's rapid strumming with the more precise, almost delicate notes of the lute.
Then going into the second chorus, Felagund's rich tenor mixed with his. Sonic had liked the voice, but at this volume...Wow.
All the gods' critters got a place in the choir,
Some sing low and some sing higher,
Some sing out loud on a telephone wire,
Some just clap their hands or paws
Or anything they got now!
Sonic's eyes widened. And I thought Bunnie could sing.
To Sonic's delight, Sally was coming up the path, with Amy beside her. Huh. She actually got Ames out of the house. And while the girl looked tired, she seemed better. Hope Sal didn't lure her out with the promise of a date. He paused on a bough to wink at them, singing in a pitch below his usual range:
Listen to the bass: it's the one on the bottom
Where the bullfrog croaks and hippopotamus
Moans and groans with a big to-do,
"And the hedgehog breaks his neck!" Sally called, eliciting a laugh and a round of clapping from the crowd.
Sonic laughed with them, and took Sally's hint. Easily, he hopped off the tree, spin-dashed in mid-air over the crowd's heads, and landed beside Sally and Amy.
Amid a roar of applause, and Amy's sudden, bone-crushing embrace, he gave the crowd a thumbs-up. When Amy let go, he then circled an arm around Sally's waist and pecked her on the cheek. "Good goin', Sal!" he whispered, before turning his attention back to–
Where'd he go?
The deer had vanished.
Who was that guy?