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The chimera was about to attack. It's outline wavered in front of him, misshapen and purple. He had to get away.
"No!" he cried, striking the air with his fist, shaking his head from side to side.
"Mr. Dunlap! TP!"
"What?"
"It's me."
He squinted in the bright light. Glorious Beginnings. That nose.
"What are you doing here?" He struggled to sit up from the ground where he lay, a jacket stuffed under his head.
Glory helped him sit and he looked around in wonder. He was outside the mistangle, at the edge of the island.
"How did I get here?" His thoughts were fuzzy and confused.
"I carried you out."
"But..." Slowly it was sinking in. "You saved my life! You went in and found me. How? How did you do it?"
"It was getting late, so I tugged on the string and it gave. Trouble, I thought. I went in, letting the string lead me and when I got to the end I figured you weren't far off. It was hard to see, so I just felt the air currents, like I feel the water currents when I'm in the swamp, testing for disturbances that tell you something's below the surface."
TP looked at him uncomprehendingly.
He shrugged. "It's just something I do. Anyway, I crouched down and felt a ripple on my cheek, so I followed it. I still might have passed you up, but the strangest thing happened. I saw a tiny green glow on the ground, and there you were, next to it."
"What sort of green glow?"
"Turned out to be a resin stone from the lollywon trees. It was tied to your belt loop."
"Hah!" said TP. "Hah!" He brought Madeline's stone out of his pocket, still attached to its string.
"Where did you get it?" Glory asked.
"A friend loaned it to me, for good luck."
"Good thing. You're lucky to have such a friend." Glory sounded wistful and TP wondered if he had any friends. It would be a rough road, he thought, with that face.
Lord, it felt good to breathe. But he was so weak. And thirsty. Glory offered him a flask of water and he drank the whole thing without stopping for breath.
"I picked these while I was waiting," Glory said, holding out a small tote sack. "I thought you might be hungry."
Barnicanes. Suddenly he was ravenous. He shoved two of the plum-sized fruits in his mouth and chewed blissfully. Never had anything tasted so good. In short order he demolished the entire sack, purple juice running down his chin.
"Do you think you can make it to the boat now?"
He stood up creakily. "I must look a sight." He hitched up his pants, which threatened to fall off, and ruefully held out his emaciated arms. How much weight had he lost? Twenty pounds? Thirty?
Glory grinned. "You're looking a bit long in the tooth, TP, but your color's getting better by the minute. Did... did you get rid of the dragon?"
TP beamed at him. "I did! It's gone."
Glory tugged on his hat brim and nodded vigorously. "That's real good."
TP threw one last look towards the mistangle as they got in the boat, watching the coils of mist rise up to join the low-hanging clouds overhead, then he turned away, fervently hoping he'd never see it again.
He dozed in his chair while Glory paddled. When they drew near the twin islands where the Sharnhorns lived, barking dogs on the nearest bank roused TP from his nap. Four men stood on a dock watching their approach. In the trees behind them, TP could make out the outlines of crude wooden structures on stilts, stacks of firewood, pecking chickens and dogs of various shapes and sizes.
Glory pulled the boat close to the dock and TP looked on nervously.
"Afternoon."
"What the hell you doing in our waters, Beginnings? You're trespassing."
The man who spoke planted a boot on Glory's boat and shoved, causing it to rock. He wore frayed pants, patched many times, and a loose vest hanging open to show off a bony chest with a few dark hairs sprouting from it. His face was narrow, his chin small, almost girlish. It looked like he'd tried to grow a beard to cover it up but hadn't had much success. Under a wide brimmed hat his eyes were the same pale color as Wert's, and TP guessed this was his son, Mud Puppy, though save for the eyes, he looked nothing like his broad-faced, barrel-chested, hairy father. Wert and two other unsavory-looking men stood nearby, smirking.
"These are public waters, Mud, and I'll be passing through just like I always do."
"You'll paddle yourself and your passenger around the island is what you'll do, Purple Face." Mud Puppy aimed another kick at the boat, but Glory fended him off with an oar. The man lost his balance and nearly fell into the water, cursing loudly.
"What the hell business you got here, anyway?" He squinted at TP, his anger turning to puzzlement. "That the same fellow you brought out here this morning?"
Glory nodded. "TP Dunlap."
Mud Puppy shifted uneasily. "What happened to him?"
"He went into the mistangle. Spent over two hours in there. He had to get rid of a chimera dragon."
All four men backed up at once, their eyes wide and fearful.
"What's the matter," said Glory. "You boys never seen a ghost before?"
Mud Puppy made a feeble attempt at bravado. "You're lying."
"No, he's not." TP stood up in the boat to give them the full effect of his emaciated figure.
Wert's face was pale as milk. He grabbed his son by the shoulder and jerked him roughly backwards. "You got work to do, Mud Puppy. Quit gawking and get on with it."
The men's boots drummed hollowly down the dock like a herd of galloping horses.
Glory gave TP a small smile. "You'll be the talk of Boggy Meadow by tomorrow, and a legend around here forever more."
"Not a pleasant way to become famous," TP said, "but I'm mighty glad to be alive."
Glory drew abreast of the barrier stretched between the islands and cut two of the buoys with a knife, causing the net to sink so they could pass through without getting tangled up.
The rest of the trip passed in silence save for the watery music of the swamp. TP floated in a peaceful haze, completely drained and wrapped in the languor that comes after extreme trauma. He let his gaze rest on Glory's hands rhythmically pulling on the oars. He could hardly bear to look at the other man's face, not only because of his appearance, but because he felt indebted to the point of shame. He could never, ever repay the service given to him. It made him very uncomfortable. To offer money seemed crass, especially since Glory had made it clear he wouldn't accept any. But he and Glory were now connected in a very intimate way and TP was not used to such intimacy with other human beings. He simply didn't know what to say, or how to act towards this stranger who'd saved his life. So he watched Glory's hands. They were calloused and rough and stained, with small cuts and nicks, though somehow they conveyed elegance as well. TP could imagine the long fingers playing a musical instrument or conducting an orchestra. They were young hands. TP guessed Glory was not yet out of his twenties. His visible eye had no lines around it, his movements were lithe and quick and full of the confidence of youth. Questions bubbled in him, but he wouldn't ask. Glory was a hero; best not to risk tarnishing the image with details that may be unsavory.
The Boggy Meadow dock was busy when they arrived. Fishermen were unloading their gear, showing off their catches. Horse-drawn carts and wagons bearing tubs of ice were lined up, the drivers bartering and bickering over the choicest fish, clams, crawfish, roots, sedge grass tubers and bunches of herbs. Barnicane season was just beginning, so there were a few baskets of fruit, quickly snapped up.
Glory helped TP make his way down the dock and walked with him to Doc's house.
"Will you come in for a bit?"
He shook his head. "Got some things to do."
TP grasped his hand. "I - I don't know what to say. I can never repay you, or thank you enough."
Glory shrugged. "No need. Just doing my job."
"You did far more than that. Ah..." TP broke off, shaking his head. "What you did today, for me - it was heroic."
Glory bobbed his head, clearly embarrassed. "Well, then, TP, good luck, and I'm really glad you got rid of the dragon." He turned and walked away.
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