jaguars snarled and charged.
Puck grabbed Peter and Rosemary’s wrists and they ran down the path. Behind them, the jaguars roared, and they heard the screech of metal against metal.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A TIGHT SQUEEZE
“I don’t understand.”
— Theo Watson
They ran. Peter stumbled in the bits of armour he couldn’t get off. Puck led them along a streambed to cover their scent, and then along the forest path until Peter begged for rest. Puck left them gasping, and listened to the forest for signs of pursuit.
“I hear nothing,” he said when he came back. “We have left our pursuers far behind.”
Rosemary wiped her face on her brocade sleeves. Her long skirts were soaked and torn.
“What were those things?” panted Peter. “I never read about things like that.”
Rosemary hefted her skirts and marched ahead. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
They followed the forest path until it suddenly spilled onto a large, well-tended lawn, rolled into hills and dotted with pruned hedges. Roiling clouds covered the sky. The wind picked up.
Rosemary paused, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the smooth green grass.
She doubled over. “Ack!” She clutched her stomach. “What am I wearing?” She struggled to take a breath.
Blue and green taffeta covered her from neck to toe. Instead of her glasses, gilt pince-nez pinched her nose, attached to a ribbon around her neck. The dress had a bustle, and the waist was alarmingly tight.
“I — I think it’s a Victorian dress,” said Peter. He was wearing flannel pants, a starched shirt, an ascot tie, and an evening jacket.
“What’s it made of?” Rosemary gasped. “I feel like I’m being squeezed to death by a picket fence. I’ve got to get this off!”
“What?” Peter stumbled back.
“Wait here.” She staggered away from Peter and Puck and slipped behind the cover of a hedge. Immediately, the bushes began to quake and rustle as she gruntled and yelled. The dress flew into view, followed by a mound of crinolines, which blew away like white tumbleweeds. Still the grunting and snapping of branches continued.
Peter shivered in the freshening wind. “What’s taking her so long?” He looked up at Puck, who just raised an eyebrow.
Rosemary let out a sound like a large animal straining against its leash. Then she stopped. The quaking bushes stopped. For a moment there was silence. And then Rosemary rasped, “Help!”
Peter and Puck bolted for the bushes. Peter grabbed a branch to pull himself around the corner, then stopped dead. Puck nimbly dodged him and stood, tense as a gazelle.
Rosemary was on her knees, gasping for air. She was dressed all in white, bloomers and camisole still covering her. From the waist up, she was clamped inside a vicious whalebone corset. She looked up at them, eyes wide. “I can’t ... I can’t get this ... off! I can’t ... breathe!”
Puck let out his breath. A smile touched his lips. “Easy, now, Sage Rosemary.” He touched the top of her head. Her rapid breathing eased, though she still couldn’t take a full breath.
“I’m ... I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I feel stupid. The knot won’t come loose.” She turned her back to him, revealing a line of woven string more intricate than a suspension bridge.
“There, there,” said Puck. “There is no knot I have not beaten.” He touched the ropes gently and they parted. He tugged the corset apart.
Rosemary took a deep, rasping breath. She pulled the corset over her head and sent it flying with a kick. She stood, breathing heavily, in camisole and bloomers. She looked up at Puck. “Thanks.”
Peter gaped at the corset. “Women wore those things?”
She grinned. “Not anymore.” She picked up her fallen overdress with her ink-stained arm and cleared her throat.
Peter turned beet red and darted around the bushes. Puck stared after him quizzically, then shrugged and followed.
As the wind picked up, Peter and Puck stood waiting at the edge of the grounds as the bush rustled, then Rosemary emerged, clad in her overdress, hem trailing on the ground.
“Are you all right, Sage Rosemary?” asked Puck.
She rubbed her side. “My stomach hurts, but it could be from Princess Petunia jumping on me.”
“Asphodel,” said Puck.
“Whatever.” She finally noticed her new glasses and snatched them off to peer at them.
“Um, Rosemary?” Peter gestured. “Y-you missed some of the buttons.” Her dress gapped at the back of her waist.
Rosemary gave Peter a look. He raised his hands. “Never mind.”
“We make progress with every step,” said Puck, “so let us not stop here. Come!” He led the way across the grounds.
Rosemary’s dress was too long now that it wasn’t held out by crinolines. She stumbled over the hem several times, and finally, nearing the crest of a hill, she tripped on it and fell over. “This is ridiculous! The sooner we finish this challenge the better!” Peter helped her up. “What do we have to do?”
Puck was standing up the slope, looking over the hill. “Keep our feet, Sage Rosemary. And keep our heads.”
Peter loosened his ascot and handed it to her. “Here. Belt it up.”
Rosemary hoisted her skirts and tied the grey sash around her waist. Thunder rolled across the sky. “I hope this challenge is indoors. Puck, what are you looking at?” She came up to the crest of the hill and stopped in her tracks. “Oh, no.”
A mansion of dark stone and crooked shutters frowned across at them. Behind it, a towering black cloud flashed with lighting. At the roof’s peak, a weathervane in the shape of a running maiden spun wildly. They could hear its little metal cries.
Rosemary took a step back, pressing into Puck. “I know what this is,” she said. “I know enough to know we shouldn’t go in there!”
“But the challenge —” Puck began.
“I don’t care about the challenge!” said Rosemary, shaking. “We go around or something.”
Peter was ahead of them by a few paces, standing just past the crest. “Or something?” he echoed. “Rosemary, look at this.”
Rosemary and Puck climbed the rest of the way to him and looked.
The front door of the house was before them. The wings of it stretched out on either side, and kept on stretching. Rosemary’s gaze followed the roofline as it rolled over the hills to the darkening horizon, like the Great Wall of China. “That’s not fair!”
Puck squeezed her shoulder. “It is the Land of Fiction. It is not meant to be fair.”
Lightning flashed. Peter blinked. “Look, a Zeppelin! Isn’t it bad for them to be out in storms?”
Rosemary started and followed Peter’s pointing finger. In the distance, a long, cigar-shaped airship hovered over a wing of the house. She looked down at her dress and back towards it. “Did they even have Zeppelins back ... uh ... now?”
Peter shrugged.
Puck stepped forward, rubbing his chin. “A ship that floats in the sky? My, my!”
The airship made a slow turn towards them. Rosemary shivered. Lightning flashed again. “Come on. Let’s get inside before it rains.”