The voice, which had a slow drawl reminiscent of that old but handsome actor whose first name was Matthew and his last name was McSomething, continued to talk. "By your silence, I assume you believe you can hide from me by remaining motionless." The voice didn't come from a discernible direction, so Kim didn't know which way to run. "But since you are on my back, I can feel your location. But you have freewill so you can decide not to believe me."

  Kim decided that fleeing into the woods wasn't a safe move. At least here on, well, whatever she was on, she could spot danger before it arrived. She drew in her breath and steeled herself for an apology. "Sorry about landing on your back," she said, realizing she sounded very Canadian in this moment. So she leaned into it like a snowboarder on a metaphorically apologetic and snowy turn. "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I didn't know I was walking on you. A dragonspawn dropped me here."

  "A dragonspawn?" the voice drawled. This time Kim was relatively certain it was coming from her right, so she faced in that direction. "You mean an evil dragonspawn dropped you from a great height to crack you open so it could digest your flesh, collect your unbroken bones for the marrow market and abscond with your treasure?"

  "No," Kim said. The list of things that an evil dragonspawn might have done was alarming. She especially did not want any part of her going to something called a marrow market. "This dragonspawn set me down gently, believing I was safe."

  "You have found a dragonspawn capable of gentleness!" The voice now seemed to come from her left. "Usually, they smother that type at birth."

  "Well, she's not completely gentle." Kim took a few careful steps towards the edge of the clearing, but the deepness and the darkness of the nearby forest were not inviting. Plus, Fiora wouldn't be able to find her there.

  "Oh, you're perambulating along my back," the voice said, and that perambulating word made Kim picture her bearded, ancient English professor, who spoke like Chaucer. "I have an inquiry: Are you going to perambulate with speed?"

  "Run?" Kim stood still. "No. I'm just walking nervously."

  "You don't need to perambulate away from me." The creature drew in a breath. The land beneath Kim's feet trembled slightly. "I am not a danger. Wise creatures such as I don't eat meat. You're clearly not from the realm of Hair, or the land of Metaloria. So you most likely know nothing about rock turtles."

  "You're a turtle?" The treeless, rocky area was in the shape of a mound that could be a giant turtle's back.

  "I am a rock turtle, as I just explained to you." There was patience in the voice. "And I am appellated Peart, The Great Shelled and Great Minded, but you can call me Peart for short."

  Kim pinpointed the voice a few feet ahead of her. Several of the stones were moving as the creature talked.

  "I am appellated—I mean named Kim," she said.

  The mound of stones she was staring at raised up and looked at her. The creature's head and neck were turtle-like, except covered by rocky protrusions. It had eyes, which were large and exuded a gentleness and a noticeable amount of eye snot. The creature also had a hooked nose like a snapping turtle.

  "Oh, you really are a rock turtle," she said.

  "You sound surprised that I exist," Peart said. "I had assumed rock turtles were legendary in all the realms, for our impressive appearance and vast intellect. I've been sitting here for a fortnight thinking about that very thing: our intellect. From where did its magnificence develop? I look beneath, between and behind for answers."

  "You've been thinking about that topic for two weeks?" Kim said.

  "I examine topics two thousand one hundred and twelve times." Peart nodded as he spoke. "The water runs down my back like time. The wind blows. The rabbits defecate, but I try not to dwell on that. Though sometimes I dwell on their defecation, even though it's not always illuminating. It's a problem when you concentrate on defecation because you soon can't think about anything else. I mean, why defecate at that particular time? And why on me? Is it a message? A symbol? Or just a bodily function? And does defecation itself have a soul? Anyway, as you can see, I spend my life thinking about the surrounding world. And about how I can improve it and perhaps understand defecation at a deeper level."

  "How can a turtle improve the world?" She asked, choosing not to use the word defecation in case it triggered another defecatory monologue on the topic.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "Exactly," he said. "You are thinking what I am thinking, and you didn't need to think for a fortnight to think it. Impressive."

  "Oh," Kim said. "Glad to be of help."

  The conversation reminded Kim of the one time she was in a marijuana shop called Grass So Green because a friend needed THC cream and the guy behind the counter felt it was a good time to explain his theories about the universe and reality and the man. "Since you are newly spawned, you do not know rock turtles we will answer three questions for you. Do you have anything you'd like to ask me?"

  Kim thought hard about her first question.

  "You're thinking, aren't you?" Peart said. "I know. Because I know everything."

  "Yes," she replied. "I am thinking. And here's my first question: How do we spawners get here?"

  "It is usually a spell that summons you from your world in a time of great perfection."

  "The Anvil concert was a time of great perfection?" She hadn't meant to sound so surprised.

  "Music is the most perfect element in all creation. So yes, that concert played on anvils must have been perfect."

  "So how do we go back?"

  "Many have tried," he said.

  "But did they make it back?" she asked.

  "That is not known."

  "But-but…" She scratched at her temple. "I thought you knew everything."

  "Everything except that."

  Kim shifted her feet. Though so far he had been the kindest of any creature she'd met, she was a little disappointed that she couldn't completely trust his knowledge. It was like she was talking to a friendly AI.

  "So, how did the spawners try to go back?" she asked.

  "They found the great Dio, who resides on Rainbow Island. He used the power of the lost chord to open up the veil between the worlds. They then stepped through."

  "To go where?" She felt this was important to be completely clear.

  "No one knows. The best way to find out how to return to your world is this: you must visit the great Dio to discover the answer."

  "How do we visit him?"

  "You sing a song," Peart said as if he'd explained everything.

  "What song?"

  "You will know when you sing it."

  Kim bit her lip to stop from expressing her frustration. She realized she was far past three questions. Maybe turtles couldn't count. "Can you tell me where my uncle is?" she asked.

  "That's a very specific question. I said I know everything, but I don't know every detail. If there was a summoning circle for your uncle and he didn't appear, then someone stole him with a counterspell. It takes a certain amount of power. So you may want to see R?beth of Kikaxetoria, T?ra of Xarhtnaham, Rh?nda of Ryche, Erin of Twistysista Brendath of Hartia–"

  "Wait, wait." Kim held up her hand, not sure if he was looking at her. "How do I remember all those names?"

  "Oh, I forgot. You don't already know everything. I suggest first visiting R?beth of Kikaxetoria. He doesn't eat turtles."

  Then, remembering her quest, she asked, "What do I do about this necklace that—" Kim began.

  "I owe you an apology," a voice said from above them. Kim looked up just as Fiora dropped down, wings spread, the rear portion of her mullet floating like a scarf. Damon, clutched tightly in her arms, had his head buried in her neck, which Kim found to be an oddly aggravating sight.

  She landed, and Fiora released Damon. He stumbled a few steps, blinking as if he'd awakened from a very pleasant dream. "Oh, hi, Kim."

  "I left you on the back of a rock turtle," Fiora continued. "And you did not die of boredom."

  "This is the kind dragonspawn you mentioned?" Peart said.

  "She is mostly nice," Kim said.

  "Did the turtle tell you he knew everything?" Fiora said. Kim wasn't certain what to say, so replied with an almost imperceptible nod. "They often say that."

  Damon began tapping the top of the turtle with his foot. "This is a turtle?" Damon said.

  "A rock turtle," Fiora explained, stomping on the shell. "The most loquacious of all the turtles."

  Damon put his hand on the rocky shell. "Hello, rock turtle."

  "Hello spawner, I appreciate your greeting," Peart said. "But I'm not so excited by the banging of feet on my back."

  "Well, at least I didn't leave you on a carnivorous turtle," Fiora said.

  "Do they exist?" Kim asked.

  "Yes, they exist," Peart replied. "I assume you asked me because I know everything. The meat-eating turtles dwell near the ocean. To be fair, there are far more meat-eating dragonspawn than there are meat-consuming turtles. Believe me, we know." He lifted his massive head a few inches and sniffed. "But this dragonspawn has never had turtle."

  "Too salty," Fiora said.

  "Your friend seeks to cause me consternation by pretending to be beastly," the turtle explained. "My patience will outlast hers. And she is only jealous that I, like her, can fly."

  "You can't fly," Fiora said.

  The whole turtle lifted at least two inches from the earth. Fiora jumped off the turtle and eyeballed underneath it. "You are floating, not flying."

  Peart moved ahead at a snail's pace, if a snail floated, that is. "Now I am flying."

  "Again, that is not flying if you're just above the ground."

  "Because I don't have wings doesn't mean I am not flying. A magic carpet is a fine example of this. I can travel at great speeds; I just don't want to show it." Peart turned his head towards Kim. "I hope the dragonspawn treats you with courtesy. You spawners have such short-lived lives."

  "Speaking of short-lived lives," Fiora said. "It is time to leave."

  "But you still have one question left, Kim," Peart said.

  "I don't know what to ask," Kim admitted.

  "Then you ask it another day and I will answer," he said.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "Step carefully as you dismount," Fiora said. "Turtles leave rather unsightly and unpleasant discharges at the far end. So always leave from the sides."

  The turtle watched with sadness in his big yellow-brown, black-pupil eyes as they stepped off his back.

  "May Metaloria hold you closer to the heart," Peart said, then he lowered to the earth and slowly retracted his head.

  "Come along," Fiora said. "The great town of Poison awaits. Though I don't know everything, I know this one fact: there will be food and drink there."