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seemed to be filled with sharpened rocks. Wuntvor had never felt
anything so hard in his life.
The lad tentatively felt the padding on the second stool, wary of
further tricks. But this cloth was what he expected, soft and
pliable. Perhaps the first stool was a trick of some sort, placed
there for unwary visitors. Then again, it could have been built for
something that enjoyed sitting on sharpened rocks. Wuntvor fervently
hoped for the first alternative.
Still, there were three large pieces of pie on the table beyond the
stools, and their aroma was making Wuntvor's taste buds Scream for
sustenance. The lad decided he would have to try
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the second chair after all. He climbed the stool and sat gingerly.
Ah, that was much better, Wuntvor thought as he sank into the
padding. But shouldn't he stop sinking? There seemed to be no seat
under the stuffing. The lad felt he would sink forever. He leapt from
the stool as best he could. He never realized anything could be that
soft!
Wuntvor stood there for a long moment, waiting for his heart to quiet
down. Perhaps he should leave this place before he got into further
trouble. If only he weren't so hungry!
Well, there was always the third stool. It was the smallest of the
three, so he would be able to easily get away should there be any
trouble. And, now that the lad thought about it, neither of the first
two stools had caused him any serious damage.
Well, he was here to go on adventures, the lad reasoned, and,
considering what had happened thus far, sitting on the small stool
qualified. He took a deep breath and sat.
To his surprise, the stool felt wonderfully comfortable. It was like
sitting on a pile of new-mown hay, soft yet buoyant. Wuntvor couldn't
imagine a better seat.
The lad smiled. It was time to turn his attention to the food. There
were three pieces of pie before him, the filling a tempting pinkish-
purple. Cautiously, Wuntvor reached for the largest piece.
He pulled his hand back with a stifled cry, stuffing his fingers in
his mouth. He had never in his life felt anything that hot! He
examined his fingers. There didn't seem to be any permanent damage.
And the juice that had clung to his skin had been quite tasty.
Even more cautiously, Wuntvor decided to touch another piece of the
treacherous dessert. He pushed gently at the crust of the middle-
sized piece. The crust didn't give at all. It was solid as a rock.
And cold, too, as if someone had kept it stored in a mound of snow.
Never in his life had he felt a dessert that cold.
The lad withdrew his hand. What was going on here? If he hadn't been
so hungry, he would have left this strange place at that instant. But
here he was, sitting on the smallest, most comfortable stool. As long
as he was here, he might as well
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attempt to sample the smallest of the three wedges of pie.
He gently touched the crust. To the lad's surprise, it was pleasantly
warm. He pulled the pie toward him. At last, he could satisfy his
hunger. He took the wedge in both hands and brought it to his eager
lips, tentatively sampling a bit of the filling with his tongue. It
was delicious, just the right mixture of tart and sweet. There would
be no more tricks this time.
Wuntvor took a big bite and screamed. He spit the contents of his
mouth back onto the table. The pie was full of tiny sharp things,
like nettles. A couple had gotten stuck to his tongue and gums, and
the lad carefully pulled them out, whimpering softly with the pain.
Who lived in this place anyway? Who would be crazy enough to bake a
deadly pie?
That's when the lad heard the voices, and the heavy footsteps.
Someone, more than one-- two or three--they were coming into the
cave!
Wuntvor jumped from the stool. Where could he go? Where could he
hide? The voices were getting closer. They were just beyond the bend.
The lad ran around the table and bolted through an open doorway that
led into another room.
He looked quickly around this new space. Besides a small hole in the
ceiling to let in light, there were no further openings. Wuntvor was
trapped! But wait a moment. On the far side of the room were three
pools. Perhaps one of them might lead to safety.
The voices were in the next room! Wuntvor ran to the wall by the
door, praying whoever had arrived would not look in here until he had
made his decision.
A deep, gravelly voice spoke first:
"Guxx Unfufadoo, poppa demon, Sees that we've had an intruder! Sees
that someone has been sitting In his stool--my rocks are messy!"
"Oh, dear--," another deep voice began, but stopped to cough. "Oh,
dear," the same voice repeated, this time in a falsetto, "Someone's
been sitting in my stool, too. Look, it's all saggy!"
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"Someone's been sitting on my stool, too!" exclaimed a third voice,
even more grating than the first two. "And the seat's still warm!"
Uh-oh, the lad thought. They suspected he was still here. If he was
going to escape, it would have to be soon. But which of the three
pools should he try? From what had already happened in this place, he
knew he had to be careful. There could be all sorts of things lurking
in those dark waters. As quietly as possible, the lad crept across
the room, eager to examine his potential escape routes.
The deep voice spoke again in the other room:
"Guxx Unfufadoo, poppa demon, Sees the stranger has not rested; Sees
he's disturbed my Sweet Demon Pie--he's scuffed its molten surface!"
"Someone has touched my Sweet Demon Pie as well," the falsetto voice
answered. "You can see the fingerprint etched in the frost. And I had
put in extra brambles, just for you!"
"Someone's gone after my pie, too," said the most grating of the
voices, "and-- ptuui! --is he a messy eater!"
The voices in the other room were becoming more agitated by the
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