Four months had passed since our adventure in Narrows. Spring had changed into summer. And summer now waned as autumn drew near.
Our journey had taken us through the Holding Bramble and then the Holding Moonlit. We had travelled leisurely—two sightseers enjoying a long holiday. Myth had celebrated her seventeenth birthday while we were in Bramble. And mine had followed a few weeks later just after we arrived in Moonlit.
Along the way, our friendship had deepened. Gone were those days in Narrows when we had teased one another so often. That banter had fulfilled its purpose of helping each of us decide if we wanted to get to know the other one better. We had answered that question when Myth had asked me to keep on traveling with her and I had readily agreed. We still teased one another. But our banter was not so… so, hmm… It was not such a prevalent part of our conversations. Now we also spoke of our pasts and our hopes for the future. And of course, we engaged in chitchat, which plays such an important but overlooked role in our interactions with others.
We were good friends. But that was not all—our bond was continuing to strengthen. Most friendships level off eventually; they develop only so much and no further. Oh, the friendship does not wither and die. It just settles into a routine that both people are comfortable with. But between Myth and I, we kept on drawing closer and closer to one another. I was beginning to wonder where our friendship was headed.
But enough about that. Trust me, Mister; you will hear plenty about Myth and me in just a bit. If that surprises you, then you have not been listening. In which case, I should slap you for being so rude...
Ah! So you have been paying attention. Good.
Let’s return to that day when Myth and I stood at the border between Moonlit and the Reserve. Neither of us imagined that my desire to attend the Beet Festival would be the start of a memorable quest. Yes, Mister, we were about to encounter a menace that has plagued travelers throughout history: the problem with the letter B.
All manner of bothersome beasties whose names begin with the letter B bug those boisterous adventurers who brave the unknown. Soon Myth and I would become embroiled in an exploit involving a bunch of those banes. Bandits, Bard, a bear, and Bumble—definitely Bumble—would bedevil us in Bramble. And battling them would require both boldness and brains…
Oh! Stop bawling, Mister. And stop bellowing, “Izzy! You’re talking about the problem with the letter B—I get it. That doesn’t mean you have to use a bunch of words that begin with B.”
But of course, it does. So buck up, Buster! I am ready to begin the bemusing tale of Black Bart, the baleful buccaneer. And how Myth and I found his bountiful bonanza of buried booty…
You know, bemoaning the day that you bumped into me is not becoming.