The couple held hands as they watched Sage and the Golem creature walk past the marked-up leather band. In a trick of the light, they were gone. 

“Whoa!” Dan gasped and tugged on Ron’s hand. “Let’s go!” 

Ron nodded and the pair marched into the illusory wall. Through here, there was more forest, but it soon gave way to a clearing. Farmland butted against the forest here. Dogs jumped and whined as they licked Sage’s face, who was knelt down to their heights. One dog licked Bevel, who was tilted down to it’s level.

When the pair came through the underbrush, the dogs barked and raced to the pair with excitement. Dan opened his arms to greet the dogs, but Ron held him back. They looked unlike their dogs from home - sharp teeth, dark eyes, and complicated structures. When they came up to them, the four dogs immediately tried to knock them down.

They tugged and shook at the puppet’s limbs. Dan felt a few seams on his side tear as one dog yanked at his belly. Dan couldn’t help but shout.

“Stop!” Ron said in a booming voice. The dogs backed away. “Sit, now.” They did as they were told. Ron helped Dan upright and held Dan’s ripped seam. Red and pink confetti poured from it. 

“Oh no,” Sage said as they approached and pulled out a vial. They hesitated when they saw the wound. “Uh. I - I don’t think I know how to treat that.” 

“Do you have thread and needles?” Ron asked the witch. 

Dan groaned, “In my bag.” 

Sage half-threw their backpack down and opened the flap on top. They pulled out a thin, long sewing kit. They picked a slender, curved needle from the surgical part of the kit and a wool thread from the clothing part. Ron quickly went to work on the popped seam.

“Do you two always have to sew up,” Sage’s face went through several phases as they tried to grasp what they were looking at. “Uh seams like that?”

Ron and Dan nodded. “A lot of times, it’s joints or hands we have to sew up,” Ron said as he finished off his handiwork. 

“Ronnie’s a Survival Scout,” Dan said with loving pride. Sage’s face told Dan they knew absolutely nothing about what he said. 

“Okay,” Sage said, still blank-faced as they stood. They turned to their huge, clay statue to lean on his stomach with their back to the puppets. Dan sat upright on his own and tested his torso with a few stretches. 

A whistle somewhere from the windmill at the edge of the farmland caught the dog’s attention. The four animals raced one another at full speed, jumping the dividing fences with practiced ease. 

“I can’t believe those are dogs,” Dan whispered in backlang to Ronnie. “And we’re in some kind of magical land! Golems! Demons! There’s others like us! I wonder if there are dragons and knights like in my books!” He gasped to catch his breath. “Can you believe it!?” He stood on his tip-toes and shook his hands next to his face.

“We have to be careful,” Ron said, his face more serious. He put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “If dogs can do that much damage, how much more can other things do?”

“I don’t think it’s much different than home,” Dan said, glancing at his hand to try to remember. A dog had torn his hand as a kid, splitting open his thumb. It wasn’t as easily as these dogs had.

Ron dusted off the red and pink confetti from his fur. Some of it was Dan’s. Dan noticed small cuts on Ron’s arms and legs where cotton was exposed and little bits of paper rushed to close the cuts.

Sage turned to the pair. “Alright. I think we should head in together. If everyone sees you two with me, maybe they won’t freak out as badly.” 

The couple followed Sage and Bevel down the path between the newly planted crops. Sage leaned on a wooden fence as a farmer approached them to chat. The farmer had a hay fork in his hand, which he was pitching hay to the cattle nearby. When the farmer saw the puppets, he tensed up and held his fork between him and the puppets. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Sage said, putting their hands on the fork. “They’re puppets! Like those in the city? Or Scrika!” 

“Oh,” the farmer lowered the fork a bit. “Why are they here?”

“They’re lost. I think they need a new home.” 

The two glanced at one another - was that their goal? It would be nice. Ron shrugged and whispered in backlang, “Let’s get our bearings before we make goals, hm?”

The farmer nodded and shouted across the field, “Hey! Sage’s got PUPPETS!” 

“What!” shouted another voice. The farmer marched over to where he shouted to join a person in a knee-length skirt. Sage motioned the two to follow them through the gate. 

The four of them stood before the enormous, log walls with a heavy lift gate. Sage shouted to the folks in the watchtowers flanking the gate, “IT’S ME, WITCH SAGE! LET ME IN! WE HAVE VISITORS!”

A rod extended above them and three green flags rolled out on the pully rope. The door creaked and groaned as it pitched upright and clanged when it was tall enough for the group to pass. 

“What are the green flags for?” Dan asked. Sage opened their mouth to answer, but they stopped when they nearly ran into a tall, bearded figure. They wore a cocked-over cloak and a v-hood that hid the top half of their face.

“Sage,” they said in a deep, firm voice. “My apprentice.” 

“My teacher,” Sage said, looking down at their hands. Dan spotted one of their hands was bandaged. Bevel, next to Sage, made a low whine. 

“You two left the border.”

“I didn’t do it frivolously!” Sage defended, shoulders tensing as if they expected an argument.

“Did you find the herbs?” he asked, shifting his weight. 

Sage relaxed a little and pulled out a cloth wrapping with strong scents coming off it. “We need to expand the border, Teacher. We’re losing resources by the week.” 

“And why is that?” The Witch asked. 

“We - we’re!” Sage paused when their voice cracked. They thought and lowered their hands. “We’re over-harvesting.” 

“Indeed. We need to restrict our gathering to the garden for a few months, as much as we can. Let’s talk about this once our visitors settle in.” 

A huge, bipedal tortoise with closed eyes and an open third eye approached the Witch’s side and made similar tones to Bevel. 

Dan gasped, “A frog! I didn’t recognize what Bevel is, but he’s a smiling frog!” 

“Yes,” Sage answered quietly. Bevel nodded, patting it’s big belly.

Ron introduced himself and Dan to the Witch, who kept his arms crossed. The Witch was short, but intimidating, even when he pulled back his hood to reveal his piercing blue eyes. He had on a darker version of Sage’s outfit - layers and long sleeves. Sage’s cloak was budding-leaf green, while the older Witch wore a forest-green one. His arms were covered in tattoos.

“I’m Witch Soren, he/him,” he said, his face softening a little, although it made Dan feel like the human was pitying them. “I hope you two can come to feel accepted here. Let’s go to my home and we’ll discuss things there.” 

The five walked through the village main road. The houses faced the roads that all lead to the central hub. A huge pot stood over a fire and a few smaller cooking spots surrounded the path. There was what Dan assumed was the food hall to the far left, as there were people gathered there, hunched over wooden bowls.

The adults stopped eating and watched the five come through. Children ceased their races and games to stare. A leather ball knocked a teen down. 

“We don’t get puppets often,” Sage said, holding their cloak tight. 

“I gathered,” Ron answered and put a hand on Dan’s back. The red puppet didn’t notice he had tensed up and was starting to breathe quicker. Ron whispered in his backlang, “Its alright. Don’t worry. They’re just curious.” 

“Okay,” Dan whispered, his voice quivering.

The Witch lead the group into his home. The two Golems sat on either side of the door. The inside was an open floor with lofts that wrapped around the room above them. 

At the center was a fire pit with a chimney right over it. The fire was low. A secretary desk and long workbench stood at the opposite side of the room, while flanked by shelves of bottles, books, boxes, and an overhead drying rack. A sitting area to the right welcomed the two puppets, who shuffled nervously to it. The witches silently set up the picked herbs on the rack and whispered to each other. 

Dan heard some of what they said - Sage ashamed about leaving the border. Soren didn’t care about that more than they were safe. “I’m not going to punish you,” Soren said, his voice warm now. “And don’t go punishing yourself.” 

“When does it end? The anxiety? Her voice in my head?” Sage pleaded, their voice a little louder and cracking with emotion. 

Soren glanced at the puppets, who watched with wide eyes.

“Give yourself time,” Soren whispered. Then at normal volume, “Finish hanging the herbs and join me.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Soren walked over to the sitting area and pulled out a tea set from the shelf next to the couch. “Would you two like tea?”

“Yes,” Ron answered. “Do you have chamomile for my husband here?” 

“With a little mint?” Dan asked with a small wave. His voice caught at the end, though, as the hyperventilating returned.

Soren nodded, familiar it seemed with a panic attack. He placed a metal teapot next to the fire and placed a log at the heart. 

“This must be a lot for you two to take in,” Soren began as he stood to remove his cloak and outer coat. His arms exposed, the pair saw more of the tattoos and scars from the top of his shoulders down to midway down his forearm. “As I’ve heard it, your world is much different than ours.” 

“Much,” Ron agreed. Dan leaned against him, trying to steady his breathing. “The grass is paper, for instance. Our animals all have googly eyes.” 

Soren and Sage both stopped what they were doing and stared at the pair. “Googly eyes?” Soren asked with plain curiosity.

“Uh,” Ron stuttered. “Well, little clear capsules with little black parts that shake around.” 

“Oh, I think I can see that,” Soren said and returned to removing his laced boots. Sage finished off tying the herbs and hanging them. 

“So do you all look like … well like you?” Sage asked as they plopped onto the couch facing them. “Dolls and such?”

“Some puppets do,” Ron answered with a small nod. “Some are wooden, stone, or metal. They have all shapes and sizes. Some walk on stilts for legs, while others are quadrupedal.” Ron moved his arms and hands for emphasis.

“Any idea what you two will do now?” Soren asked. “And do you practice magic?” 

“No and no,” Ron answered with a look at Dan. 

“I’m surprised, since you both have a mark of magic on your chest. Usually that’s reserved for Golems. But I don’t recognize it,” Soren said, pointing to their chests. He stood next to them again, pulling out narrow drawers and scooping up dry ingredients.

Dan and Ronnie looked down. Dan’s sweater was open and exposed his chest. The mark Glitter bestowed onto the pair was still there. It had a faint glow to it. When he put his hand on his chest, he swore he felt the mark vibrating.

“If you two want, we can set you up in a house. Let you two gain your bearings. What can you two do for professions or specialties?” 

“I’m in construction and engineering - building machines mainly,” Ron said. “Dan is a botany expert.” 

Soren poured the hot water over the muslin tea bags and brought the full tea tray to the sitting area. “We could always use help in those areas,” Soren said. Dan took his cup and felt overwhelming exhaustion rise up from his core. The anxiety attack was taking it’s toll.

“You said you were having issues gathering herbs?” Dan asked, pressing a hand on his chest where the fatigue laid to rest. “Perhaps I could take a look.”

“Our crops have been the main issue,” Soren said and took a sip from the teacup before grimacing. “Hmn.”

The tea was unlike any Dan tasted. It was divine, strong, and filled him with soothing warmth. It was hot to the tongue, but he was determined. He couldn’t wait until it was stronger. 

“Sage, fetch Alexander. We need to talk about putting these two in a home.”