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AbNom — Part 7 - The Investigation
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Published: 2026-09-05 14:14:40 +0000 UTC; Views: 3462; Favourites: 3; Downloads: 0
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The New Guardian’s Nefarious Entrapment (Fluffy Dragon TF Aftermath)
Part 7 – The Investigation
A gnome appeared in the arena just outside the mushroom ring. While his clothing was normal for his type, he lacked the traditional red conical hat. Instead, he wore an unusual dark blue cap that appeared to be rather flat on top with a cloth visor in the front.
Walnut looked up from his collection. “I have some yams if you’re looking.”
The gnome opened a small black book and peered over his glasses. “I’m Inspector Gneiss, here regarding the disappearance of an elder fae. To whom am I addressing?”
Walnut stood up, a suddenly serious look on his face. “I’m general collector Walnut. You mean Sycamore? She’s the only one who’s been missing since our guardian went crazy one night and took off, then turned up the next day covered snout to tail with red clay. That was when we realized the old girl was missing.”
Gneiss wrote it down. “Went crazy you say? What does this guardian say about the events of that night?” He wondered what kind of creature their guardian was.
“He doesn’t talk much.” Walnut gave a little laugh, his easy smile returning. “Well, he doesn’t talk at all. Not that I ever heard him speak. Arela’s made offers to the Great Mother that didn’t live or left. She’s always wanted naming rights – the power over the named, you know. But this one stayed and was made the guardian. Not that we need one. It's been ages since the last guardian. I heard someone say Sycamore took his voice away when he awoke from the offering, but she has that kind of reputation, being an Unseelie and all. I wasn’t there when it happened. I’m not a Council member. Like I said, never heard a word out of him, just little roars, grunts, and whines when he’s begging for food or something – even that’s rare. Pretty quiet, really, except for that one night.”
“I see,” said Gneiss, jotting down more notes. “Not the first one I’ve come across unable to speak. Where can I find this guardian?”
“This time of day? Probably sleeping next to Arela’s house. He’s still her pet. Might want to talk to her.” He pointed in the direction of one narrow opening broken through the arena's stone wall.
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Gneiss approached the tiny stick-framed tree house with bark siding and moss roof. Pixies cared far more for appearances/location than practicality, and the gnarled tree the house was supported by grew out of a crumbling base of something much older and larger. He could tell this location was a prestigious dwelling within the community, and he jotted that down in a note. The remainder of the ancient foundation not taken over by the tree had a bed of tall grass and clover. The tussocks were not flattened but showed signs of a larger creature having lain there in the not-so-distant past.
“Hey gnome! What are you doing here?” called a high-pitched voice.
Gneiss looked up from his notebook. “I’m Inspector Gneiss. I’m looking for the local guardian?”
“Fluffy?” The pixie fluttered down from her house with a yawn. “Hasn’t been sleeping here much lately. What do you want with my pet?”
Gneiss made another annotation. Only the privileged users of magic claimed and kept oversized “pets.” He wondered yet again what manner of creature this guardian was. With a pixie’s humor, it could be anything from a horrendous ghoul to a tiny kitten.
“I understand the beast went mad the night that Sycamore disappeared?”
The pixie gave a non-committal shrug. “Fluffy’s been keeping to himself. Pretty good about his post and patrolling, but Sycamore encouraged that. Enforced it, more the like.”
“And you are?”
“She’s Arela,” came a second high-pitched voice. This was another pixie, slightly larger than the first.
“This is my partner, Parsnip.” Arela nodded her head towards the new arrival.
Gneiss nodded and noted it down. Both were younger fae.
“So, Sycamore kept your guardian in line,” he said, looking to the two of them, his pen poised over his notebook.
“Sycamore keeps everyone in line,” said Parsnip, crossing her arms. “She’s never cared for Fluffy.”
“I understand she removed his voice?”
Arela crossed her arms as well, but Parsnip spoke up again. “She did, right after the soul-binding.”
“I see,” said Gneiss, pen scribbling.
“He insulted the Great Mother.” Arela uncrossed her arms, glanced at Parsnip, then continued.
“Sycamore took great offense to his insult, and he lost his ability to speak, just like that.” She snapped her tiny fingers. “You don’t cross the senior member of this forest, especially when the Great Mother is involved. Made him sound like the whiney beast he was.”
“He talked back too much before,” added Parsnip, “in the short time he was here. Really annoying. He’s much nicer now.”
“So not an original member of the community.” Gneiss waited.
“Hardly,” said Parsnip, uncrossing her arms. “Just a wandering human. We hadn’t had a guardian in over four hundred solstices, and he just came in and destroyed our picnic. He-”
“Then he made a snide remark about it,” interrupted Arela. “Suggesting we needed a guard for our borders. Naturally, we took him up on it.”
“Offered his services, did he?” Gneiss peered over his glasses.
Parsnip giggled and took a breath, but Arela answered again.
“Volunteered outright.”
“So, he chose the turning?” Gneiss asked, eyebrow raised as he took another note.
“We have a very nice community here with a very cozy, magic forest feel to it,” Arela said. “Not at all suitable for a troll or some horrifying monster as a guardian. And certainly not some human.” The word dripped with disgust.
“What form did the community decide for him?”
“Oh, Arela did it all herself,” said Parsnip. “I wasn’t convinced at first, but she made him the cutest, most fluffy dragon you’ve ever seen. Simply the most endearing ears. She’s an absolute artist!”
Arela smiled. “He has the softest, puffiest tail tuft, neck, and tummy. Beautiful feathery wings. And the most perfectly adorable paws!”
Gneiss stood there, trying to picture it. “Humans can agree to some strange things.”
Parsnip looked to Arela, who said, “Sneaky, clumsy, stupid beings. So much better after the change and binding. Quieter, too.”
Gneiss nodded. “Strange name for a human. Fluffy, I mean.”
Parsnip made a face.
“Much more fitting for our guardian, though, don’t you agree, Inspector?” asked Arela.
Gneiss looked at her. “I suppose I’ll know once I’ve met him. I’m curious though, what was his name before?”
“Who knows?” asked Arela with a shrug.
“He certainly doesn’t anymore,” muttered Parsnip.
“Names are powerful things, although I’m sure I don’t have to tell you,” said Gneiss. “Wonder what he was running from to go through all that, then volunteer for a soul-binding besides? I suppose you’re lucky he hasn’t done something before this.”
“What do you mean?” asked Arela looking down her nose at the gnome as she hovered before him.
Gneiss closed his little book. “Humans tend to have ties. Only the desperate, depressed or dangerous would freely agree to give up their name, form, entire past, and speech for a position that binds them to one location forever.”
“Oh, he-” Parsnip was cut off again by Arela.
“Seems like he adjusted fine.” She looked at Parsnip.
“But the binding of the soul… That eliminates any chance of injury of any type to all members of the community by the power of the forest, doesn’t it? If the offered survive it, I mean.” Gneiss lifted a brow, re-opening his book.
“Of course,” said Parsnip. “I performed the binding myself in the ring.”
“Thank you both,” said Gneiss with a jot of his pen. “Can you direct me to where he may be now?”
“He’s usually here at this time of day,” said Arela, pointing to Fluffy’s sleeping spot among the tussocks and clover by her house. “He may be at his post, or hasn’t returned from his patrolling.”
“Where does he patrol?”
“He walks around the entire mountain near the tree line, naps here and returns to his post for the night,” said Arela, folding her arms again.
The pudgy gnome grimaced. “Can you show me where his post is?”
Arela rolled her eyes. “Come on.” She flitted towards the large boulder.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Fluffy was not there. Gneiss thanked her again and she flew off before he had a chance to ask another question. Walking around the cabbage-shaped rock, he examined the ancient carved leaves of stone. Finding the set of notches going up, with some effort he climbed them, looking into the crevices between the larger, outer leaves. One leaf had a small chip missing. The rest had only the wear of exposure to the weather across the ages.
From the top, he could see a good distance in the better part of three directions, with a respectable view of the nearest human town across the valley. He noticed one crevice near the top of the carved rock which had dried tree leaves within it. Those had been crushed and compressed. There were a few strands of blue and of longer white fur mixed in among the leaves as well as a couple feathers of the same colors. He jotted down some notes.
“Oh! I was looking for Fluffy. Have you seen him?” A young, high-pitched voice startled the inspector, causing him to drop his notebook. He turned quickly to see the young faerie behind him. She was unusually plain for a faerie and younger than even Arela and Parsnip had been.
“That makes two of us,” said Gneiss, recovering. “I am Inspector Gneiss. And you are…?”
“Daffodil. When I saw he wasn’t sleeping in his bed, I thought I’d check here before flying around the mountain to look for him.”
Gneiss nodded. “You’re the one who notified the Investigative Brotherhood of the Fae about Sycamore’s disappearance.”
“She’s my instructor. Really loads on the studies, but I don’t mind. It doesn’t give me the time I’d like to spend with Fluffy, though. I think he needs someone to take care of him. He has very limited paw movement. Can’t even scratch his own head. And he always seems so sad.”
The inspector thought for a moment. “I need to speak with him, if you can tell me where he is.”
“I can fly his usual path,” volunteered Daffodil. “Once I find him, I’ll come straight back here to tell you. He might move, but it shouldn’t be very far by the time we get back there.”
“But he’s a dragon,” said Gneiss. “Can’t he fly?”
“I don’t think so…” said the young faerie, a puzzled look on her face. “He has large, feathered wings but I’ve never seen him fly.”
“Because he wasn’t originally a dragon…” said Gneiss, thinking.
“He wasn’t?” asked Daffodil, flying backwards a little.
Gneiss shook his head. “Didn’t you know?”
“No. Are you sure? He’s always been a fluffy dragon as long as I’ve known him.”
“How long is that?”
“I’m not good with time, but I think he’s been here a few solstices. I saw him come in with Arela and Parsnip while working on the decorations for a summer solstice. He was so cute - but very sad. I didn’t even know he was our guardian and was surprised to learn that he couldn’t talk. But he followed everything I said or asked.” Daffodil paused. “He’s been seeming sadder, though.”
“Sadder?”
“I’m not sure, but like depressed?” Daffodil landed and looked down in the gap between the stone leaves Gneiss had been examining. “I think that’s the word? I’m trying to learn more about emotions. Something happened that day. He seemed fine when he arrived at the circle for the summer solstice decoration party. Arela was saying something about him being part of the decorations. I don’t think he liked the idea, because shortly after his ears started drooping, his tail curled in on itself, and he started to cry. Sycamore became angry and sent him away – can’t have tears by the mushrooms. Arela was not happy about that, but the prince never came that night anyway, so Fluffy not being there hardly affected the celebration." She paused. "I don’t think he’s ever come to the celebrations…” she drifted off, trying to remember.
“Miss Daffodil,” said the inspector, “I would be most grateful if you could locate Fluffy and let me know where he is. If you feel safe doing that, of course.”
Daffodil looked straight at the gnome. “Fluffy would not hurt any of us. He is the Guardian of the Forest, and the Great Mother. He simply couldn’t.”
Gneiss returned her look. “Miss Daffodil,” he said again, “this investigation is regarding the lady Sycamore’s disappearance. ‘Fluffy’ is a suspect.”
Daffodil took a step back. “I know Sycamore has never liked Fluffy. He’s been sad and I think lonely, but since I've known him he’s never done anything to make me feel afraid.”
“Lonely?”
“He’s Arela’s pet, but she and Parsnip don’t do much for him. No one does. I’ve tried to, but Sycamore’s always warned me to stay away from him and my lessons with her keep me very busy.”
“Were you aware Sycamore removed his ability to speak?”
Daffodil shook her head, aghast. “No! That’s terrible! If she did, why didn’t she give it back? He couldn’t have done anything that awful.”
Gneiss frowned. “Something about insulting the Great Mother. I need to find him as soon as possible. But please don’t interact with him. I need to talk to him first.”
“I’ll find him, inspector. I promise.” She turned and flew away.
Gneiss watched her go, then climbed into the space between the carved leaves to retrieve his book and a few strands of the blue and longer white hair.
“Hey Buttons, come down here, will ya?” a gruff voice called.
Peering over the edge of the stone leaf, Gneiss spotted a rabbit on its hind legs in a trench coat. Its collar was turned up, and a fedora was on his head. He was glancing from one tree to another.
“Be there in a minute, LaPine.”
As he hit the ground, he asked, “What do you have?”
The rabbit glanced around again. “Hopped over here as soon as I got your call. Yer lucky I was in Tickstown for another case. This cozy forest ain’t what it seems. You got the juice?”
“Fill me in first.”
The rabbit gave him a stare, then shifted to look at the woods towards Arela’s house.
“Pixie there made some sap her pet, see?” He thumbed in that direction, turning back to face Gneiss. “Named him Fluffy, and her partner there bound his soul to the forest.”
Gneiss nodded, checking his notes. “He was running from something.”
The rabbit shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Might’ve come from Tickstown.” He pointed towards the human hamlet and pulled out a worn piece of parchment from his coat pocket. “Got this from that collector guy, Walnut. Said he found it shortly after the new guardian arrived. Might be something, might not. My guess is that the guardian brought it with him. Someone scribbled this out. Why? Did he make it, steal it, force someone to make it for him? If so, who? It looks human-made. But how’d some guardian wanna-be end up with it?”
Gneiss took it. “Can you follow up on this? See if he was running from the humans, the reason, anything.” He studied the poorly drawn map.
LaPine huffed. “It’s gonna cost you, buttons. But I know a guy. Thinks he’s smart, calls himself Mr. Roe Dent. But I’m on to him. If he knows something, he’ll squeal like the rat he is.”
“I’m counting on you, LaPine. If he volunteered, I need to know why. If not, how’d he get caught up in all this?” Gneiss continued to look at the faded piece of warn parchment.
LaPine grimaced. “'Caught' might be the word. I know the senior council here witnessed him coming out of the binding ritual. He was angry, some said shocked. After it happened, he called the Great Mother here some kind of monster. That got under Sycamore’s skin real bad, see? She yanked his voice right then and there before he could say another word.”
“So, motive.”
LaPine tilted his head. “Probable, not possible. That binding’s tighter than the big house: it won’t let him hurt any of the fae here or the forest. The youngsters have taken advantage of that. Seems to be a rite of passage to prank their guardian. Call it ‘defeating the dragon’ or something. Bugs in his ear, vines or roots tripping him up. Big entertainment for some: ganging up on him to throw him in a mudhole, things like that. But he can’t fight back or get mad at them. Can’t even really think of it. Can’t leave, either.”
“That’s true.” The inspector stroked his beard. “What would cause him to agree to that?”
“Gonna be a tough one, buttons.” The rabbit glanced from one side to the other, a paw in one pocket of his trench coat. “He ain’t gonna gab, even if he wants to. Can’t talk. Can’t grab nothing with those paws of his either, if he even knows how to write.”
“How do you know?”
“Saw some tracks up by the spring,” said LaPine.
The inspector raised an eyebrow.
The rabbit gave another huff. “I’ve seen enough tracks and the paws that go with ‘em. How they flex gives it away. No claws to speak of. No thumbs, either. Saw some other tracks in the pond, too.”
“What kind of tracks?”
The rabbit glanced both ways again and leaned closer to Gneiss, whispering, “Dragon. Not our boy Fluffy. Bigger, real claws. Take a look. There are other prints there you’re gonna wanna see.”
The inspector pulled out a small package from his vest coat. He stopped as LaPine started to reach for it. “Anything on Sycamore?”
“Nothing. Clean sneak. Here one night, gone the next. Same night their ‘guardian’ came running into the faerie circle arena, bellowing, approaching the ones there, then running back towards the entrance, over and over.”
“Like a dog trying to get them to follow.”
“Bingo.” The rabbit touched his twitching nose. “Then he left. No one followed, or saw him again until he came back the next day covered in red clay. They barely recognized him. You know about the faeries and red?”
Gneiss nodded, but asked, “Red clay?”
“It’s up at the pond by the spring, where I saw the tracks. None of them wanted to go near him.”
“Naturally. And?”
LaPine shook his head. “Just sent him away to clean himself off. No sympathy here, buttons. These guys are all about looks. Maybe the kid’s a little different. Guess they held her back when they sent him off to clean up. But the rest of ‘em just don’t care, Gneiss. Not even about their own. Just accept that the old dame is gone. It was the kid that made the report to the IBF.”
Gneiss nodded and handed over the package. “Good work, LaPine.” For the rabbit to give Daffodil some credit said a lot. “Can you dig up anything on Sycamore? Who’s the next most senior member of this forest?"
Lapine shrugged, opening the bag to pull a sealed bottle part way out, then placed the gin back in the package. “Older faerie named Cypress. Restrained. Rule follower. Deferred to Sycamore in some cases, but holds to the Seelie format. For the rest you’re lookin’ at a helluva tab, buttons. But if you want the dope, I’m the gumshoe who can get it.” He tipped his hat and hopped off into the shadows.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Daffodil returned to Cabbage Rock shortly after. “He’s at the pond by the spring,” she gasped.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
Gneiss didn’t see Fluffy when he arrived, so he examined the pond. It didn’t take long to find a trail of dried red clay dragged from the water with pawprints he presumed were the little dragon’s. No claw marks, as LaPine had said. There was some blood mixed in the clay as well. He wondered whose it was and looked out over the clear water. Within it was a deeper hole in the clay, a faint print of a feathered wing visible under the water. Not far were two deep, gaping prints of a dragon’s claws. The claw marks indicated the larger dragon had stood over the smaller. But why? And why didn’t it kill the little one?
He heard a sniffle behind him. Turning he saw the suspect.
“Fluffy, I presume?” The name certainly fit the sad creature before him.
It slowly and stiffly nodded once. There were some wounds visible on the sides of the little blue-furred dragon. The pattern looked like he had been grabbed by very large claws. Claws that matched up with those visible in the clay under the water.
“I am Inspector Gneiss. You are aware the faerie Sycamore is missing?”
Fluffy tilted his head as it rose in surprise. He shook it, oversized ears flopping and longer, creamy white neck and belly fur swaying from the motion.
“She’s been missing since the night before you approached the faerie circle covered in red clay from here.”
Fluffy lowered his head, looking at the spring behind the inspector.
“You didn’t cover yourself in clay on purpose, did you?”
A slow shake of the fluffy blue head.
“Another dragon forced you here, didn’t it?”
The furry dragon lifted his head quickly, ears raising, staring at Gneiss, then nodded once, ears drooping lower.
“Why?”
Mouth trembling, Fluffy lowered his head again, shaking it, and began to weep. Slowly he held out a paw to the inspector. Embedded between two irritated pudgy digits was a white scale.
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