Even though Lucy’s metal armor provided most of her warmth, the chilly air of the mountainside nipped at her skin like a predatory case of fleas, each with meat grinder teeth. She hugged herself for extra heat, but the incoming snowflakes made her shiver nonetheless. In such a short amount of time, one snowflake on her canine nose turned into an entire winter of defeat and agony. Without her war hammer and tennis ball, she might as well have been the most naked being in the entirety of Rainbow Ranch. How was she supposed to fight Loki the Skull now? Barking and clawing could only do so much against a sorcerer who flashed in and out of combat as he pleased. Lucy became jealous of Callie the Wildfire for having any kind of weapon at all, the golden knife in question.
“Get a move on, Lucy! Ozzie is vulnerable out here!” roared
Callie. Toughness would have been an admirable trait during these times, but
all it did was make Lucy’s eyes water, which in turn hardened into icicles that
shattered on the ground. It was completely normal coming from Razor Ripley, but
Callie was a stranger who appeared unsympathetic to Lucy’s struggles. Then
again, Callie had little to worry about wrapped up in the warmest orange
fabric. Why burden herself with an annoying Chiweenie’s suffering?
The mountainside trek weakened Lucy’s legs to where they
were trembling with or without a freezing temperature. She was used to
scampering up to any challenge, but such athletics were punished with a painful
gut and sour breathing. There were many times when Lucy wanted to just plop
over and allow whatever was going to happen to happen. No weapon, no bravery, and
no help beyond someone who couldn’t stand her to begin with. This was a losing
battle against an opponent with seemingly endless magical energy. Lucy’s head
swirled with dizziness and hopelessness. Why not just lay down and prove her
abandoners right?
“We’re here! And no sign of Loki!” Callie’s grumpy demeanor was
masked with a tiny smile, but only for a little while. “Come on, Lucy, let’s
move it!” She grabbed the Chiweenie’s trembling paw and dragged her up the
mountain, where a comforting orange light shone from a lone cave entrance,
flanked by two scarecrows with rotten pumpkin heads. “His place must be a pigsty.
I knew he was out of his gourd.”
Lucy and Callie scampered past the scarecrows and into the brightly
lit cave. Sure enough, this was the home of Ozzie the Wise, whose days of
wisdom and intense thought had long abandoned him. Sitting at the table next to
a glowing metal stove (the source of the gentle light), the elderly gray and
white cat man tenderly ate cold turkey scraps from a plate that had seen better
days. Nibble, nibble, nibble, gulp, gulp, gulp, all with teeth that smelled
worse than the pumpkins outside.
The messiness of this home could give his dental work a run
for its money. Torn blankets strewn every which way. A record player that hadn’t
been dusted since the days of his youth. A sink full of dirty dishes that would
have attracted flies if not for the freezing weather. A bookcase of cracked
yellow paper, probably with spells written on them that couldn’t be studied
with a forgetful brain. There was even a golden framed picture of Callie and
Ozzie as a couple hanging on the wall, albeit at an awkward angle.
Ozzie peeked up from his dubious dinner and smiled at Lucy
and Callie. “You look familiar.”
“Gee, I wonder why that could be,” said Callie with a sharp
tongue. “See that picture on the wall? Any clues coming yet?”
“Yes…yes…it’s all coming back to me now…” Ozzie stood up and
cracked his spine over the back of his chair, causing Lucy to twitch in disgust
and Callie to reprimand her for it. The old man cat trudged over to his two
guests with Callie looking hopeful that she might be recognized after all of
these years. But instead, Ozzie ruffled Lucy’s ears and said, “My
granddaughter! My precious little granddaughter.” Lucy looked confused at
first, but then chuckled as Ozzie groomed her face over and over again.
“For Pete’s sake, Ozzie, it’s me! Callie! Your ex-wife!”
protested Callie. Ozzie continued licking Lucy’s cackling face while running
his claws through her fur. The tough facade had melted away when Callie sighed
and tucked her head in defeat. “He’s forgotten me…Ozzie has forgotten me…”
“Oh no, I haven’t,” said Ozzie. “My other granddaughter! You’ve
come to visit me after all these years! Come here, you!” He gave Callie tummy
scratches, which earned him a swat for his troubles.
“I’m not your granddaughter, you old coot! I’m your wife! We
shared a house together! We chased balls of yarn together! You used to cook
tuna fish every night and it was delicious! Don’t you remember?” Callie’s
elderly anger turned to sorrowful word salad as her voice became increasingly
jittery.
Ozzie placed a tender paw on Callie’s shivering shoulder and
said, “Now, now, now…you know I can’t marry my granddaughter. But I’ll be there
at your wedding when you’re old enough.”
Callie held her face in her paw and rubbed the bridge of her
nose. “There’s no hope. He’s gone. He’s all gone.”
Now that she’d established some rapport with Ozzie, Lucy
suddenly found her confidence again, which was definitely helped by the warm
breeze blowing on her from the metal stove. “Mr. Ozzie, I’d love to stay and
eat turkey with you, but there’s something we have to warn you about. There’s an
evil sorcerer coming up this mountain and he says he wants to hurt you. He’s
too powerful for any of us to fight off. The best thing we can do is get you
out of here and to a safe place.”
“A sorcerer, you say?”
“Yes, Mr. Ozzie. He’s someone you used to know, I mean, once
knew…” Lucy let out a phew at almost appearing insensitive towards Ozzie’s
forgetfulness. “He’s an old rival of yours. You were the one who defeated him in
the first place. Now he wants revenge. He’s come back to life in a dog’s body
and he wants to…”
“Old rival? Hmm…” Ozzie scratched his own chin looking for
answers. “Is he another one of my grandchildren? I’d love to play some fetch
with him and tell him all about my record collection. These young
whippersnappers could use some good music these days.”
“He’s gone, Lucy,” said Callie in an uncharacteristically
low voice. “He doesn’t remember me or anyone else. All that magic use turned
his brain into mush. He’d be better off in retirement care instead of this disheveled
cave.”
“Wait a minute…” pondered Lucy. “If magic use can turn your
brain into mush, then Loki the Skull…”
“You just now figured that out?” The fire and spunk was back
in Callie’s voice, her knife raised in the air, much to Lucy’s cowering terror.
“Put the knife away, you old bat. I’ll finish the job for
you.”
Lucy, Callie, and Ozzie’s eyes widened at the demonic voice haunting
the once warm and cozy cave. The stove’s glow was slowly dying down and the only
neon flash that appeared this time came from Loki the Skull’s eyes. Bright red horror
enveloped the room, followed by the poisonous green of the sorcerer’s aura.
Lucy gulped as hard as she could while hugging Callie for comfort. She tried to
push her off, but Lucy was too strong and it was the only strength she would exhibit
for a while.
But then, Loki waved the war hammer like a pendulum and
taunted Lucy. “Looking for this? It’s the perfect tool for smashing, let’s say…tennis
balls!” He then pulled out said tennis ball, this time deflated and dirty, no
longer fit for an hour of friendly roughhousing.
“What are you going to do, Lucy? Are you going to snuggle up
and cry like a little cherub? Are you going to howl to the night moon like a
lost wolf puppy? Are you going to run back into your mommy’s arms? Oh wait…that
last part isn’t an option anymore.” Loki laughed at his own callous joke.
