The rain had brought a definite chill with it, Anna’s feet were still cold from paddling through the puddles, and that sounded like a prescription for a perfect morning to her. She swept the floor—possibly with more haste than accuracy, though her aunt didn’t complain—got her book, and climbed up onto the warm stove. The featherbed was heaven, even if she did have to prop herself into a somewhat awkward position to read in the thin light coming from the windows. Her great-grandfather’s handwriting was so neat and precise she didn’t have to squint; it was as good as book-printing.

She had left him at the border with Hungary. This was all new to him. Now he was about to enter a land where the language was entirely different from his own, and he was exceedingly cautious about approaching this place.

I crossed in the wilderness, away from roads, villages, and potential border guards. I made my camp for the night, and took such a thin meal as I could manage from nuts, mushrooms, and plants that I knew were nourishing. But my provisions were scanty, and winter fast approached. I knew I would need to attempt to contact another Elemental Master and beg help of him, soon. So that night, before sleep, I invoked the curious Elementals of this place and begged them to teach me the local languages as I slept.

She had to read that twice before she was sure she had read it correctly. What? Them critters can give y’all a different language?

She looked up from the book to ask her aunt; Jinny was hard at work on a pie crust, from the smell of things there was cornbread in the oven already, and she was surrounded by the little critters seemingly made of sticks and stones, leaves and flowers, no two of them alike, all of them watching her as if she was providing them with the best entertainment they had ever seen.

And movement to her side caught her attention.

One of them was sitting on the edge of the featherbed, watching her intently.

This was a little thing that looked like a crude doll fashioned of mud, with two shiny, dark brown pebbles for eyes. It stared up at her fearlessly. She looked back down at it, not entirely sure what to make of this.

Finally, she called down to her aunt. “Aunt Jinny? This here book says Great-Granpappy got the critters t’larn him languages.”

“Iffen he says so, then thet’s what they c’n do,” her aunt replied, not looking up from the careful lattice-work she was weaving on top of what looked like a rhubarb pie.

Pie! Her mouth watered, and for a moment she was distracted. Then she recalled herself. “Wall, how does I do thet?”

“Arst ’em,” came the short answer. She waited a moment, but when nothing more was forthcoming, she turned to the mud-man. “C’n y’all larn me Cherokee?” she asked, hopefully.

The mud-man put his head to one side, and mimed sleeping.