As she came down, she saw something in the clearing. Was it Che? Her heart leaped, which caused her body to rise and almost made her overshoot her landing. But it was not. It was only a little elf girl. Her heart sank, which caused her to drop and almost undershoot her landing. She came down solidly on all fours and folded her wings. Then she approached the elf, who was staring at her as if astonished.

"Who are you?" she inquired. "What are you doing so far from your elm?"

The elf scuffled her feet. She was young, a child really, yet was unusually large for the elves Chex had seen. A normal elf stood a quarter the height of a normal human being, while this one was half human height. She had a turned-up nose, a few freckles spattered across her cheeks, and ragged brown hair that couldn't quite make up its mind between chestnut and butter. Her eyes were brown, and seemed nearsighted. That reminded Chex of Arnolde Centaur and Good Magician Humfrey, who used spectacles to correct their vis-ion—which was even odder, because she'd never met either of them. "My cat—" the elf child said.

"But elves don't have cats," Chex protested. "In fact, nobody does; there are no straight cats in Xanth, only punnish variants like the cat-o'-nine-tails."

"Xanth?" the girl asked, seeming perplexed.

Chex was tired and in a hurry, but she realized that something was wrong here. "Yes, Xanth, where we all live. Don't try to tell me you're from Mundania!"

"No, I'm from the World of Two Moons. My cat—"

"I told you, there are no—" Then Chex saw the cat. He was an orange fluff ball, that did seem to have an elven cast to his features. He was lying stretched out on the ground, tail extended behind, looking like nothing so much as a speed bump: a hump in the trail designed to trip up speeding centaurs. "How—?" she asked, somewhat at a loss.

"Something strange here," Grundy murmured. "There are no elf elms close by. She should be too weak to stand. And look at the size of her! She's as big as a goblin!"

"Sammy can find anything, except home," the elf said. "Only usually I never know what he's looking for. So he gets lost. I have to keep up with him so I can bring him back after he finds it." She paused, looking at the cat. "I think he was looking for a feather, this time." Indeed, the cat had a feather between his tawny paws.

"That's not just a feather," Chex said. "That's a first-molt wing feather from my foal, Che. There are very few like it anywhere."

"I guess he wanted a special feather, then," the elf said. Then, seemingly with an effort, she raised her face to look at Chex. "If you don't mind, please, could you tell me—what are you?"

Chex was taken aback. "I am a flying centaur, of course! A winged monster, technically. Haven't you ever seen a centaur before?"