The Lore of ZooKazoo -- Day 4

OK. Yesterday, over 100 of you shared your comments. Natasha, you said there were too many typos and you were correct. I'll try to keep the suction pads on the end of my fingers from sticking to the keys today. Maddie, you made the biggest plea to put your name up, so there you go, Maddie. A lot of you just said, "Hi," and others just said to keep telling the story. Some of you said, well, uh, I guess you can't please everyone. LOL. But this is your story, you are helping to write it -- like Cortney, who suspects that Growler has more powers than we have seen so far. So keep the ideas coming.

Today we learn about the elf, that's The Elf. Here we go. . . 

As Princess Kazooba gathered her things and added the bottle and map to her pack, Growler too a last slurp of water from the lake. He smiled at the magnificent tiger face that reflected back at him. "Not bad," he thought and splashed the water with his enormous paw.

Elsewhere, a long way away, a very different face peered up from the dark, still waters of a cave pool. Red eyes, ringed with green scales, a mouth without lips, and ears that stood too tall and sharp looked back at the twisted body that leaned over the water -- The Elf -- Silvercurst. His life had taken a very different path than his sun-loving elfin kin of the Jungle. Like the Princess, he, too, had left home at an early age, angry at being the middle child. He was too young to be taken seriously like his older brother but old enough to have to take care of his younger brother. His leaving would show them how much he would be missed. He hoped they grieved. All these years later, however, he had given up on any notion that they might care enough to come after him.

His loneliness turned to disappointment and his disappointment became anger. Years passed and he spent all of his time thinking of his plight and the anger turned to rage and a terrible need to get even. In his part of the Jungle, he had had time to change things. Day changed to night so dark that the sun no longer came at all. No one came to his Jungle without his permission -- and no one left either.

Now, in the semi-darkness of his cave, an errie light reflected on the walls. This was all the home he had, and all the home he needed. He didn't even notice the fowl smell of the sulfur gas that bubbled from the pool, as he focused on the images of his old adversary, Growler, and the new comer, a young Kazoobian who stood a little too straight and moved with too much athletic grace.

Once, long ago, after he had learned the very special way to touch the waters of his pool and mutter the right words, the pool had warned him of a young maid who would appear one day. "Hmmmmm," he scowled, "she's only a brat." He watched Growler and the girl leave the lake's edge and hasten down a path into the jungle. Whether she was the girl in the prophesy or not, she would have a very difficult time finding him and a very bad time if she did.