Chuggie and the Desecration of Stagwater by Brent Michael Kelley Page A

have to be made. Kale chuckled at the double meaning.
    Haste nodded.
    "First thing in the morning, then." Kale gave a stiff bow to show he was leaving, and that it wasn't up for debate. He hoped this damn five-horned drifter would come soon.

Chapter 5
     
    Chuggie awoke the same way he always did — confused. A patchwork quilt of small animal furs covered him. He yanked it up over his head to block out the light. Doing so exposed his feet to the morning chill.
    His feet, he decided, shouldn't be quite so cold. They should be snug and warm inside their boots. He tried to remember where his boots might be. Nothing came to mind.
     Something dug into his back. Had he slept on a rock? He lifted himself and turned a bit. There they were; the boots that should have been on his feet. Rolling off the boots gave him such relief that he groaned like a sleepy walrus.
    Eyes burning and barely open, Chuggie peeked from under the blanket. Nearby Shola screamed.
    Everything came back to him then. He'd spent the night at Shola's Cliffside Resort. Yes, and he'd fed her plenty of wine the night before precisely so he could lie moaning in peace all morning. Perhaps she would know why he'd slept on his boots. He smelled smoke.
    Chuggie threw off the blanket and sprang to his feet.
    Flames roared as they engulfed Shola's storage shed. She swung a wet blanket at the blaze, but she was losing ground.
    Fighting the fire alongside her, two scarecrows tried to help her by batting at the flame. One succeeded only in setting its arms on fire. It kept trying to fight the blaze, even as the flames spread to its painted pumpkin head.
    "Chuggie! Help!" Shola had screamed herself hoarse trying to wake him.
    Chuggie staggered barefoot to the shed with the fur quilt in tow.
    They swatted at the blaze with their blankets as scarecrows arrived with buckets of well water. Chuggie flung the water at the burning structure as quickly as the scarecrows could supply it. Smoke rose in a column. He hoped they weren't sending signals to the Stagwater sentinels.
    Chuggie and Shola finally managed to snuff out the fire by smothering it and throwing water on it. Chuggie examined the blackened husk of the shed. From the heap of burnt food, he pulled either a charred potato or a blackened turnip. He took a bite to see which, but he couldn't be sure.
    The scarecrow that had caught fire burned down to cinders. It was now little more than a smoldering stick figure stretched on the ground. A stick figure with a burnt, busted-open pumpkin head. Several other scarecrows gathered around their fallen comrade.
    Chuggie opened his mouth to comfort Shola when a burning scarecrow lumbered out of the forest. Its carved-pumpkin head sloughed off, broke apart on the ground, and smoldered with a smell like pie. The rest of it collapsed in the garden, a heap of crackling embers and burning flannel.
    A drumming of hooves thundered from behind the burning scarecrow. The sound grew like a tidal wave. A snort and then flame shot from the underbrush. In its wake, a fireboar stomped into sight with smoke puffing from its nostrils. Its thick, soot-black mane stood stiff, impervious to the morning's breeze.
    Chuggie snarled and darted at the hog, forgetting he wore no boots. As he sprinted, his hands unwound the anchor. Passing the burning scarecrow, he snatched up one of its legs to use as a bludgeon. Twirling the anchor furiously with his left hand, he brandished the scarecrow leg with his right. Chuggie charged the massive boar. Shola screamed at him, but her words were lost to the whoosh of the chain and the angry squealing of the fireboar.
    It snorted a cloud of oily flames at him. With an arm thrown up to protect his face, he sprawled backward and landed painfully on his chain. By the time the flames dissipated, the pig was nowhere in sight.
    Chuggie ran after the culprit. Thorns and brambles tore at his feet, but he paid no mind. He stopped at the edge of the woods and turned to wave at