Kendra Kandlestar and the Crack in Kazah by Lee Edward Födi Page B

loud squeal of delight. A swarm of excited Eenlings roared past, chasing an enormous ball. This was a bauble ball, and if you have not heard of such a thing then it is perhaps best to describe it as a type of piñata, for it is made of colored paper and contains all sorts of trinkets, toys, and treats. Unlike a piñata, however, a bauble ball is cast with a bouncing spell so it has a life of its own, leaping here and there as it tries to escape the hordes of frantic Eenlings wanting to whack it with their toy wands. With each successful strike the ball lets out a loud bang—like a firecracker—until at last it bursts open to reveal its treasure trove of prizes.
    “Come on,” Gayla coaxed, skipping forward. “Let’s play some games of our own.”
    The three of them were soon scampering through the grounds, trying their hand at every contest. These included many of Kendra’s favorites, such as “Sneeze Race” (in which you wear wheel-skates and try to sneeze your way across a finish line), “Pickle Toss” (in which you throw a slippery pickle back and forth to your partner as many times as possible) and best of all, the “Boot Bang.” In this one, you have to swing as high as you can on a swing and try to kick off your shoe, aiming for a long trumpet. If you actually succeed in getting your shoe down the trumpet, it spins down a long network of tubes, setting off a series of gears and gadgets until at last a melon ends up dropping—and exploding—on some hapless Een’s head.
    There were many other silly contests too, such as “Sink the Boat” (this involves cramming as many Eens as possible into a boat to see how many could fit in before it sinks), “Ticklefish” (in which you keep your feet in a tub full of Een fish as long as possible without breaking into laughter), and “Snore War” (a game to see who has the loudest snore—though it was usually impossible to award a winner, since everyone—including the judge—was asleep).
    Kendra had the best day in a long while. She laughed until she cried, ate far too many sweets, and by early evening had that tired, happy, and slightly sick feeling one gets after spending the whole day at the carnival. They took a nap on the banks of the river, and when they awoke the meadow was just being cleared for dancing and more revelry. Many Eens were playing instruments—not only the narfoo, but the womboe, the fizzdiddle, and the flumpet too.
    Amidst this happy hullabaloo, the meadow soon crowded with dancers young and old. Oki wandered off to find another Eenberry cupcake, so Kendra contented herself by sitting on a stump next to Gayla, watching the dancers. Before long, a striking woman dressed all in white flashed in front of Kendra.

    She looks familiar, Kendra thought, and then she realized it was none other than Winter Woodsong.
    In her own time, Kendra knew Winter as an ancient woman, well over a hundred years old, for whom the slightest movement seemed to demand the most titanic effort. But now here she was thirty-five years younger and spinning across the meadow lawn as light as a cloud, her long braids waving like streamers in the light of the sinking sun. Kendra was amazed to see her move so sprightly.
    The old woman caught Kendra staring and frolicked in her direction. “What now, young sorceress?” she inquired, pausing just in front of Kendra and Gayla. “Have you never seen an old woman dance?”
    “You’re not old,” Kendra said—and she meant it. “You dance beautifully, Mistress Woodsong.”
    “Suck-up,” Gayla muttered.
    Winter looked at Gayla. “Now here is a face that would turn an Unger pale. Why so dour, my dear? Did you eat one of Luna Lightfoot’s pucker-pears?”
    Gayla glowered, and Kendra couldn’t help wondering what had changed her mood. Then she noticed Gayla gazing over Winter’s shoulder, across the field at a Teenling boy. He was dressed in a bright Jamboreen costume, but this was hardly as bright as his shock of red