Unicorns? Get Real!

was covered in an olive green slime. A look of sheer terror filled her eyes. She gave a little yelp and then collapsed on the floor.
    Kristen stepped over the limp body and snapped her fingers. “Footman! Will you kindly remove the Duchess of Bagglesnort.”
    “Princess Beba, by the wits of Saint Janny! Your color has returned,” Alicia exclaimed.
    “Saint Janny? Who’s she?” Princess Beba asked.
    “It’s not a she. It’s a he. Saint Januarius, patron saint of blood. You see, Princess Beba….” Alicia began to speak. She was known for her fascination with saints, particularly the gory details of their deaths and martyrdoms. “His blood was preserved and dried, and on his feast day it is said that the dried blood liquefies.”
    “You don’t say!” Princess Beba replied. She seemed suddenly quite perky. The other princesses pressed closer now to hear every gruesome little detail.
    “Have you ever seen the dried blood liquefy, Princess Alicia?” Beba asked.
    “I have!” a voice from the rear of the Salon de Beauté spoke up.
    “Wouldn’t you know it!” whispered Myrella.
    It was Princess Morwenna, that unsettling and obnoxious mix of piety and spite. She made her way up to the front of the salon. Placing her hand lightly on her chest as if counting the beats of her reverent heart, she arranged her face into a most mournful expression. “One has to possess an extreme spirituality in order to witness the holy liquification.”
    “Spirituality, my butt!” Kristen growled.
    “The prayer that I always say as I stand before the relic blood on the feast day is—”
    Myrella gave a very large yawn for someone so small. “Speaking of feasts, I’m hungry. Let’s get out of here before the Snort recovers.”
    “Yeah, let’s go to the Princess Parlor for morning tea,” Princess Kinna said. All the princesses rushed out of the Salon de Beauté, leaving Morwenna with her hands clasped in prayer reciting a psalm about blood and vengeance and bad people who “drinketh blood.”

Chapter 5
    BERWYNNA THE IMPOSSIBLE

    Meanwhile, Princess Gundersnap made her way into the Forest of Chimes. She was sweating mightily, for spring had come suddenly and snowshoes were of absolutely no use, not to mention her fur-lined cloak, earmuffs, and mittens. The warm weather would present problems on her return, for the moat would have thawed, and if she did not get back until evening, the bridge would be up and she would have to swim. She had already passed her intermediate swim test last session, an achievement of which she was especially proud.
    And now, as she walked in only her petticoats with the snowshoes and winter gear slung over her shoulder, the temperature was still rising and it was suddenly summer. The Forest of Chimes was yet another one of the odd and slightly magical marvels of the country of Palacyndra that was as unexplainable and perplexing as the fickle seasons that came in no order at all. Lasting sometimes for minutes or days, but rarely longer than weeks, the seasons seemed to be guided by the whimsy of some unknown force.
    At first glance, the Forest of Chimes might appear to be any ordinary forest, but if one were to take a closer look, one would observe that the trees did not have leaves but instead clear glass bells. When the wind stirred, the songs of birds mingled in a lovely symphony with the chimes of the bells. It was a place of enchantment. But on this day, the forest was silent, as there was not the slightest breeze to stir the clappers in the crystal bells.
    Gundersnap found the tree where Berwynna had appeared to them when she had last visited her with Alicia and Kristen. She sat down on the moss to wait and wait and wait. Noon quickly slid into afternoon, and the light of the summer sky began to leak away, replaced by the pale lavender of twilight. Gundersnap grew more nervous with each passing second. She wasn’t worried about being late. That was the other oddity about the Forest of Chimes: time did not behave normally, and although one might think one had been gone for a very long time, one could return and find that only a minute had passed. But what if Berwynna didn’t appear? “G’mutch,” Gundersnap thought. “I wish the old crone would show up.”
    “What did I tell you about calling me a crone!”
    The princess caught her breath. Before her stood the strange old lady in her garb of leaves and moss and spider-webs. An owl perched on one shoulder. “An insult always