“Failures can always come in threes and five and tens or even hundreds before a single victory.” Bohga nodded, holding the shards of the cast close to his big eye. “One can not expect to win every fight or defeat every challenge on the first attempt. That would not be reasonable. One must instead see a failure as one less obstacle on the way to achieving. But it falls upon the one to be determined enough to continue without being discouraged. This is the way forward I am sure of it.”

  “Wisely spoken!” said Hoxley, thumping her spear. “Perseverance leads to opportunity or insight. I will remember this.”

  “Indeed, a fine lesson.” agreed the prince.

  “But a lesson that must be remembered.” grunted Bohga, deep in thought. “No mistake should be made twice. I must begin to chronicle these failures so that they are not met a second time. Yes, yes, I will commit the lessons of this experiment to parchment so that when the variables become many, the mistakes are not duplicated. Yes, yes. Certainly, this is the correct way.”

  “No grand breakthrough today.” sighed Prince Damron. “Perhaps tomorrow may hold a step forward. I suppose I should sift more sand so that another mold can be made.”

  “A fine notion, young king.” Bohga said warmly. “You will prepare a new molds worth of sand and I shall think of a new way to cast the gelicate. Quite a pair we are, eh? I am the eye and you are the hand! Ho ho!”

  “Yes, I guess that’s true.” The prince said solemnly as he slowly walked out the cave. Hoxley saw his disappointment and followed close behind to find what was the matter.

  “A copper for your thoughts, your highness.” she offered as she trailed behind him.

  “My thoughts are free to you, Hoxley.” He replied without looking back. “But they go back to my sister. I don’t know if she’s well or even alive after all my uncle has done. I’m grateful for having found you but everywhere you’ve led me has been a maze of questions and danger. I know none of that is your fault, but I must confront my uncle. I see the work my hands are doing here will someday be useful but for now they seem like a distraction compared to what I know I must do. How are you feeling?”

  “The wooziness is all but gone. It’s worse in the mornings, but it seems to ebb by midday anymore. Thank you for asking. You must know that the conclusion you seek is my goal as well. Just a little longer, your highness. We’ll soon be on the path back to your kingdom and hopefully the liberation of your people.” Hearing this the boy turned around and smiled. Prince Damron had definitely grown, inside and out. The rashness and brashness had given way to reflection. What a sight to see. “Soon.” Hoxley said, smiling back. With that, the prince went back inside to begin sifting sand for the next pour while Bohga began scribbling on pieces of parchment with charcoal upon his sharp fingernail like a quill. As they worked, Bohga set aside enough time between tasks to cook up a new pot of spiced fish for them to enjoy. During this time, Hoxley kept to herself and stayed out of the way. She soon found herself wondering what had become of her own family, even her traitorous brother, Fresian. She longed to know of the wellbeing of her own kind and family upon the plains. Through all of this, a wave of melancholy washed over her and left her feeling adrift in a tossing sea of emotion. Unnecessary sour thoughts buzzed about her head like gnats, doing their worst to find a hole in her fortitude. They were inklings of nothing to be sure, but in her solitude, they found they’d manifested themselves just the same. Each one whispered in her large ears that she was hopeless and helpless. It was especially devious for them to use echoes of her own voice against her. If they’d attempted to pray on another’s lesser resolve they might’ve succeeded. Hoxley grit her teeth and dug one hoof into the ground as defiance.

  “Begone.” She said to scatter the bad thoughts. “There’s nothing here for you to put your teeth into. You’re not real and I’ll not let you have the better of me. I am doing the best I can, and I will continue to do so.” Thankfully, the voices heeded her command and dissipated to leave her in peace. To ease her troubled mind, she leaned against the cave and watched the birds in the sky as they flitted over the treetops. Some glided upon warm winds and seemed to hang midair before circling away while others ailed out of view never deviating from paths unknown. The sounds of the prince and cyclops working in tandem filled her ears. To ease her nerves, she took out her witchle and played a simple somber tune. It felt good to let the notes tell her fingers where to play. As a simple melody came into form around the notes, a song Hoxley had never considered came to mind. It was simple but true, a whimsical notion about bringing all this madness to an end. Perhaps in a future day it would mean what her heart felt. But for now, she kept her wits about her and loudly played the tones of the witches upon her instrument in hopes that someone would hear it. When the notes died, she watched the treetops. Other than the flights of birds, none came in a manner she wished for.

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  Disheartened a little, she turned away to step inside the cave once more. A second experiment with the gel took place before dinner. Bohga attempted to heat the gelicate to a lower degree in hopes of changing the outcome, but the result of a fragile product was there just the same. The crudely made knife didn’t cut so much as a twig before the whole thing shattered.

  “Hmmm. Lower cooking temperature for this method does not create lyythium.” Bohga pondered. “Come, enough of this gel work for now. Certainly, you must be hungry dear Hoxley?”

  “I am always grateful for the meals you prepare, Bohga.” she said.

  “Then you are always welcome to a place at my table. Come faun and prince, let forget our work for now. We shall eat and laugh and talk of pleasant things while we fill our bellies with tasty spiced fishes and soup, Hoo hoo!” And as the three sat about the enormous table with their steaming bowls and cups of water Bohga answered the prince’s questions about the lives of cyclops. After this, Bohga in turn asked many questions about the absent friends of his guests. As Hoxley described them in vivid detail both in personality and size, Bohga scribbled these aspects onto parchment with a charcoal covered nail.

  “Let’s see,” said Hoxley after a bit. Hours later, as sundown fell upon the cyclops’ home, she told their host everything he wanted to know. “That’s Morell, and Siouxsie and Robert and Atticus and Loxo and Princess Cassandra. I suppose the one I’ve saved for last is one that’s become quite dear to me.”

  “Ignatius.” Offered the prince.

  “Yes, quite.” Hoxley blushed, looking at down at her hooves before continuing. “He’s tall with silver hair.” she started as she began to daydream about the absent witch. “Lean but toned as male witches tend to be. He’s calm and considerate. Mindful of others and himself. He can be charming as well as stern when he needs to be. He lavishes affection upon his siblings but oversees their development as good people. He keeps a close watch but gives them the freedom to be themselves. Oh! and a skilled swordsman! He’s brave and dashing in all ways that a fearless warrior should be.”

  “And…you fancy this Ignatius?”

  “I suppose I do.” She blushed again, her cheeks and the tips of her big ears turning a brilliant rose red. “He’s thoughtful and considerate and even brings sarsaparilla when he knows to expect me or…hopes to. I never know when to expect him, but when he shows I feel safer, no matter the situation.”

  “What a pleasant thing to say.” said an unexpected voice from the edge of the room. “Then it is fortunate I am here to put your mind at ease.”

  All eyes leapt to the entrance of the chamber where a lean form covered in head to toe with black leather entered. All of it topped with a waterfall of silver hair flowing out the back of a witch’s hat.

  “That looks like an Ignatius to me.” commented Bohga before taking a sip of soup.

  “Ignatius!” Hoxley and the prince exclaimed, leaping from their places at the table to run and embrace him. Ignatius collected them both in his arms as he laughed with joy.