Hem and Bram and Crawley crossed the Bridge of Caldering without incident except for two incidents. The cobblestones of the bridge were slick with the rain from the AUTUMN STORMS. Storms come in and out as mentioned and in the Autumn they blow in without warning. Bram slipped at one point and banged his elbow on the hard surface, spillin’ all his stuff around. It slowed the pace.

“Sorry,” muttered Bram.

“Aye, ain’t no situation,” answered Hem, bending down to help Bram with all this stuff, mostly just a couple pieces o’ fried ham and extra layers o’ clothes. “Watch yourself on account of the wetness.”

They gathered up all of Bram’s stuff and moved on. It was a long bridge, ancient in its construction and sturdy in its craftsmanship. Stunning to look at as it raised its tall beginning parts high up into the sky. Not too sure what a bridge such as this was doin’ down here deep in the Nurmermer Canyon but here it is. It was clear it wasn’t maintained all that well and to be truthful it wasn’t even all that safe. Nobody came down here much.

The second incident involved A JIBBERJAB. JIBBERJAB ON THE BRIDGE.

They were haulin’ themselves right over the Ravin’ River and nearin’ the end of the Bridge of Caldering when a jagged cobblestone shootin’ itself outta the bridge moved suddenly with a big ugly scrape. Crawley exclaimed “Ho there some sorta stone situation!” and before any of ‘em could do anything of any sort, a JIBBERJAB made itself known.

“Jibberjab, has to be. Has to be a jibberjab,” said Hem whose heart was hammerin’ like a blacksmith’s apprentice doin’ metalwork back in Gilba Gilba.

The Jibberjab roared and clicked and clacked and chittered, its two arms extended in a constant grasping reaching gesture. It was insane. Its eyes were black and mouth was bared in a bizarre rictus of lust and destruction. One of its legs was bent in a broken sorta way so as it approached the trio it dragged its ankle against the cobblestones with a high pitched squeaking.

“What do we do?” Bram asked.

“We stay calm and murder this thing right here right now without delay,” replied Hem with the same coolness his father had displayed on a near-constant basis deep in the Island Realm, if only he’d known. “Behind me, lads, I shall deliver this Thing of Kruxam’s Brandish from the bridge and into the waters below.”

The jibberjab shrieked and jabbered, jibbering like the jibberjab that indeed it was. It rushed forth, hands outstretched and screaming in its chittering language that no one understood. I’m sorry is this an action scene? Are we 61 scenes into this thing and we finally have some action? Get some life into this, some life AND DEATH.

It came on, screechin’. Hem held his position on the bridge and stared the jibberjab down. Somethin’ in him lit up, somethin’ deep in his chest like he was fulfillin’ somethin’ primal. He liked it. He charged the jabberin’ jibberjab as a deep roar escaped from his face. He collided with the monstrous thing and it blew apart in a massive detonation of dust and bones. A hideous scream came from the SKY and the jibberjab’s parts retreated upwards in a black whirlwind. Hem stood there breathing all heavy-like.

“Uh,” uttered Crawley into a stunned silence.

“You okay, Hem?” said Bram.

Hem didn’t answer. He was breathin’ heavy still. That was insane. He just charged a real-live jibberjab and survived. The things were real after all. Hadn’t they run into one in the Deeps of the Fleep Fleep forest? The body of one. This one was alive, insofar as the word could apply to the mad thing that was rippin’ the air a moment earlier.

“Aye,” he finally said. “I want to do that again.”