Gwof and the others finally arrived at the Witch's residence.
The place was hidden on the edge of the Capital City.
From afar, the area was encircled by a stone wall several meters high. The wall was mottled, covered entirely in dark green vines—the kind of Ivy whose leaf edges had fine serrations. The leaves layered over one another, as if the stone wall were clad in an impenetrable green coat, concealing even the crenellations atop the wall.
Several clumps of thorny Wild Roses also sprouted from the cracks in the bricks. Their slender branches stubbornly climbed upward, dotted with tiny white flowers. The petals were as thin as paper, yet the stamens were glaringly yellow. Approaching closely, one could catch a faint, bitter fragrance mixed with the musty scent of the vines, conveying a coldness that warned strangers away.
Within the wall, dense crowns of trees were vaguely visible—Plane Trees, Soap Pods, and some shrubs whose names were unrecognizable. They were lush and verdant, their branches aggressively stretching outward, even half a head taller than the low houses outside the wall.
Sunlight filtered through the dense layers of leaves, turning into mottled green shadows that danced on the ground. One could imagine the courtyard was filled with exotic flowers and rare herbs, with even the wind carrying the dampness of vegetation.
On the nearby field ridge stood a Farmer holding a hoe, his trouser cuffs speckled with mud, his straw hat tilted on his head. He was likely a local resident.
He stared at Gwof's group, the hoe forgotten in his hand, the wooden handle gripped white. His eyes revealed unconcealed fear, as if he had seen something he shouldn't have—perhaps the wall, or the person inside it.
Seeing Gwof and the others look over, he hastily lowered his head, his shoulders hunching, like a startled Quail. He turned and walked toward the other end of the ridge, his steps quick as if fleeing.
His shoes made a 'pat-pat' sound on the muddy ground. He didn't dare look back even for the straw hat that had fallen off. The hat rolled twice before settling against a clump of foxtail grass, looking utterly alone.
Ben looked at the high wall, his brow furrowed even tighter, like two stones squeezed together.
The smile on his face vanished completely. His eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a rare seriousness.
He moved closer to Gwof, gently nudging Gwof's arm with his elbow, and whispered, "Is this the Wizard's house?"
Little Bottle, however, was unconcerned. Carrying the bundle taller than himself, he leaned against the wall. The shadow of the vines fell across his face, resembling several green stripes.
He even reached out a finger and tugged at the wild grass growing from a crack in the wall. The root, carrying damp soil, was pulled out. He swung the blade of grass around, thoroughly entertained, as if this were an ordinary vegetable garden rather than the Witch's residence.
Gwof also appeared composed, his gaze sweeping over the closed main door.
The door was made of heavy Oak, its paint peeling to reveal the dark brown wood grain underneath.
Lia was thrilled by the mysterious atmosphere, clutching a piece of pink scrap fabric—it was a remnant fallen from her new dress, still bearing some gold thread.
She stood on her tiptoes to peek inside the door, the heels of her shoes tapping lightly on the flagstones, her eyes sparkling like they held starlight.
"Is the old lady who does magic inside?"
Lettuce, conversely, seemed somewhat constrained. She clutched the hem of her light blue skirt tightly, her fingertips turning white.
She quietly moved closer to Little Bottle, her shoulder almost touching his arm. Her gaze darted quickly toward the main door, then snapped back down as if burned. Her long eyelashes cast a pale gray shadow on her eyelids, and she even softened her breathing, as if afraid of disturbing whatever was behind the door.
Gwof stepped forward and knocked three times on the door with his finger.
"Thump, thump, thump."
Three dull sounds penetrated the door panel and echoed in the silent alley, startling the Sparrows on the wall into fluttering up.
After a long pause, a hoarse voice came from inside the door, sounding as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper—raspy and dry, yet carrying an indefinable malice, as if quenched in ice: "Who is it?"
The voice permeated the door, carrying a damp, musty smell. Lia instinctively dodged behind Gwof, her small hand gripping his clothes, but her eyes still peeked curiously through the crack in the door;
Lettuce's shoulders also trembled slightly, the hand clutching her skirt tightening further, her knuckles turning white. Her breathing grew even lighter.
Gwof did not move, his back ramrod straight. His voice was as steady as a windless lake: "It is I."
He paused, then stated clearly, "I am inviting you to travel to the Animal Kingdom with us."
Silence reigned inside the door for a moment. Even the'swish' of the wind rustling the leaves could be heard. A few petals from the Wild Roses on the wall were blown off, drifting onto the flagstones before the door.
Immediately following, shuffling footsteps gradually sounded from within.
One step, two steps. The sound of soles scraping the ground grew nearer, carrying a slowness that tightened the heart.
"Click."
The sound of the bolt being drawn echoed, the grating friction of rust slicing through the silence.
The heavy main door was slowly pushed open. A gap gradually widened until it was completely ajar, like a silent mouth.
Standing behind the door was the Witch.
She was still wrapped in that voluminous black robe, the brim of her hood pulled down very low, almost entirely obscuring her face. Only the pointed tip of her chin was visible, etched with several deep wrinkles that crisscrossed like the texture of old tree bark.
The hem of the black robe swept over the moss on the threshold, kicking up flecks of damp mud. The air immediately filled with a humid, earthy smell, mixed with the scent of strange herbs—the coolness of mint, the bitterness of mugwort, and an indescribable sweetness, like rotting berries. It was hard to say whether it smelled good or bad.
She said nothing, merely letting her hands hang down. The sleeves of the black robe were very long, concealing her fingers.
Her eyes, hidden beneath the hood's brim, were like two bottomless ancient wells, slowly sweeping over Gwof's group.
Her gaze paused on Lia's hand clutching Gwof's coat corner, then shifted to Lettuce's tense profile, and finally rested momentarily on the bundle on Little Bottle's back—the bundle was so high it nearly hid Little Bottle's face, revealing only two dangling feet.
Looking at the Witch, Gwof dispensed with pleasantries. Like tossing a stone into still water, he got straight to the point with a single word: "Go?"
His gaze fell upon the shadow under the Witch's hood, a shadow so dense it could not be pierced, where even sunlight could not penetrate.
His tone was as flat as asking "Have you eaten?", the final syllable even carrying a hint of casual lift, yet every word conveyed an unquestionable certainty, as if this were not a question, but a notification—a notification that it was time for her journey to begin.
The Witch was silent for two seconds. A light breeze swept a withered leaf past her feet, making it spin on the flagstone.
She suddenly turned around, her hood facing inward, as if she were peering through the heavy door, gazing at the exotic flowers and rare herbs she had personally planted in the courtyard—perhaps the midnight-blooming Black Datura, perhaps the Golden-edged Orchid Grass in the corner that could cure all ailments, or perhaps the hundred-year-old moss pot on the windowsill, rumored to hold memories.
It was quiet inside the house; only the wind leaking in whistled between the beams and pillars, stirring up a few fallen leaves on the ground.
What was she lingering over? Was it this small patch of land where she could study herbs in peace, or was she reluctant to part with the plant and animal spirits who had accompanied her through long years? No one knew.
A moment later, she slowly turned back around. The shadow under her hood remained bottomless, but she gave a slight nod.
The brim of her hat gently swayed with the movement, obscuring the emotion in her eyes. Only the wrinkles on her chin twitched, as if tacitly agreeing to the proposal.
A corner of the black robe's hem was lifted by the wind, revealing the dark patterns embroidered underneath, resembling some kind of coiling vine, faintly visible in the shadows.
Gwof then turned his head to look at Ben standing behind him, conveying a clear signal with his green eyes.
Ben immediately understood. His handsome face, usually etched with the hardships of travel, was now flushed with excitement, even the fine lines around his eyes crinkled with a smile.
He raised a hand to pat the polished cloth pouch at his waist. The pouch was bulging, its outline distinct, clearly holding the cloak he treasured more than anything.
That cloak had accompanied him through countless journeys, patched over patch, yet he cherished it more than any gold or jewels.
Of course, he knew what Gwof meant—it was time to use the cloak's teleportation ability to jump directly to that legendary place, the Animal Kingdom.
He knew the cloak's magic well enough; as long as the destination was fixed in the mind, crossing mountains and seas, or even breaching the barriers between different nations, was merely the blink of an eye.
Truthfully, Ben had been completely bewildered by this journey at first.
Gwof looked like a delicate human Boy, wearing a well-tailored jacket, speaking and acting with youthful briskness. How could he possibly live in a 'country composed of animals'?
He had even secretly wondered if the child had taken his bedtime fairy tales too seriously, thus inventing such an outlandish destination.
It wasn't until three days ago, under the dim oil lamp of the inn, that Gwof sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, telling him fascinating stories about the Animal Kingdom.
As he spoke, he reached up and removed the wide-brimmed hat he always wore, revealing the pair of fluffy wolf ears atop his head.
The ears were pointed, like two small crescent moons, covered in light gray down, and they gently twitched with the tone of his speech. When he was excited, the ear tips would lift slightly, imbued with an indescribable liveliness.
"I am inherently a wolf."
Gwof scratched his ear tip at the time, his tone as casual as saying, "The weather is nice today."
"I can just take human form, which makes it easier to deal with humans."
Ben froze then, nearly spilling the mug of ale in his hand. The liquid sloshed and splashed a few drops onto his cuff, but he didn't notice at all.
Once he recovered, all his doubts transformed into blazing excitement—as a seasoned Traveler who roamed far and wide, he had seen giant dragons spitting fire while napping in volcanoes, met crows that spoke human language delivering messages from towers, and even haggled for wine with Gnomes who knew how to brew. Yet, he had never heard of a place called the 'Animal Kingdom'!
Was the king there a majestic Lion, or perhaps a steady and wise Tiger?
Would the rabbits use round mushrooms as houses, hanging carrot wind chimes at their doors?
Were the foxes truly as cunning as the stories claimed, yet still harbored a measure of kindness?
These thoughts grew wildly in his mind like weeds, densely covering every corner.
Now that he was finally about to step onto that land, Ben felt his palms itching, desperate to pull out the cloak immediately and let the magical fabric carry them across the barriers of time and space.
He grinned, revealing two rows of neat white teeth, and nodded vigorously at Gwof.
"No problem! Leave it to me! I guarantee we'll be there in the blink of an eye!"
Saying that, he untied the pouch at his waist and carefully shook out the dusty gray cloak.
When spread out, the cloak nearly dragged on the ground. The patches along the edge were layered, some square, some triangular, in various messy colors. It swayed lightly in the wind, looking utterly unremarkable, truly like an old rag someone had discarded.
But Ben's eyes shone as if holding starlight. As his fingers brushed over the patches, they moved with an almost reverent gentleness.
"Everyone come closer,"
he called out, his voice brimming with irrepressible excitement.
"Hold on tight, don't let go—last time in the forest, a lost hunter wanted a ride, but he didn't hold on tight halfway through and got thrown straight into the ravine. Luckily, the guy was a good swimmer, or he would have been fish food."
Lia was the first to hop over like a cheerful little bird, bouncing to Ben's side with a "deng deng deng." Her small hands gripped his arm tightly, while her other hand didn't forget to tug on Lettuce's clothes corner, afraid of being left behind.
"I want to sit in the front!"
She tilted her small face up, her eyes shining like water-soaked sapphires. "I want to be the first to see Big Brother Wolf!"
Lia tugged Lettuce, causing her to stumble. Her skirt swept the ground, stirring up a little dust. Lettuce quickly steadied herself and also reached out, her fingertips lightly touching Ben's cloak.
The fabric felt rough like sandpaper, yet carried a strange warmth, as if a small flame were hidden inside.
She secretly glanced up, quickly looking at Gwof. Seeing him standing there, his expression calm without any tension,
the tension in her own heart subsided by more than half, and the corner of her mouth secretly curved into a faint smile, like a daisy blooming quietly.
Little Bottle, carrying a bundle of luggage taller than himself, also slowly shuffled over.
The bundle was so large it almost completely covered him.
He positioned himself sideways, hooking his elbow tightly around Ben's other arm, afraid of being thrown off if he lost his balance, and mumbled instructionally:
"Don't throw our clothes away."
Gwof finally walked over, standing opposite Ben. His gaze swept gently over everyone's face like a tender net—Lia's excitement, Lettuce's shyness, Little Bottle's seriousness, Ben's anticipation, and the Witch standing at the edge.
He asked in a deep voice, "Is everyone ready?"
No one spoke, but everyone nodded vigorously. Even the Witch slightly moved the brim of her hat, as if responding.
Ben took a deep breath, grabbed the two corners of the cloak with both hands, and suddenly wrapped it around his shoulders.
The gray cloth instantly tightened, the once loose fabric becoming like a hard shield. The patches on the edges suddenly emitted a faint white light, like a dusting of fine stars, twinkling in the dim alleyway.
"Hold tight!"
He roared, his voice filled with irrepressible excitement, as if trying to shout out all the anticipation accumulated along the way.
"Target—Animal Kingdom!"
Before the words faded, the cloak suddenly billowed out, as if instantly filled with a violent wind, rustling loudly.
The surrounding scenery began to twist and spin. The bluestone walls turned into blurry green shadows, the white flowers of the Wild Roses dissolved into splashing points of light, and the distant field ridges shrank into thin lines... Everything became flowing blocks of color. The sound of rushing wind roared in their ears, like countless birds screaming past, or like a surging river roaring beside them.
Gwof narrowed his eyes, letting the gale whip his hair. The wolf ears on his head twitched in the wind, carrying a familiar stirring.
He could smell the scent carried on the wind—it was the fresh fragrance of the forest, the dampness of the earth, and the warm, unique scent of animals.
The corners of his mouth involuntarily curved into a smile of relief.
Almost home.