“What seeds are you scattering?”

“I dunno ma, just these what I found in the grove last Brrtsday.”

“Why you scattering those seeds, Hem?! Whatcher doin’ out there with them seeds??!”

“It’s ‘cause I wanna do some SEED-SCATTERIN’!!! Aye leeme alone!”

“Yer da know you been scatterin’ them seeds like some kinda heeber, Hem Slonnigum??! Don’t make me call your da out here!”

Hem Slonnigum stomped his feet and tossed the rest of his seeds into the wind. We gotta have more folk in Gilba Gilba. We need to meet more regular residents to make it seem like it’s a bustlin’ town!! So Hem’s scattering seeds around the ol’ plot behind his house on account of his being a boy o’ adventurin’ age and a boy must be restless at such an age, all the fantasy books say so. All the ones of a certain trope that is. Not to worry, this is not one of them. This ain’t even a book! It’s an account o’ Hen Slonnigum, adventurer.

His ma, satisfied that all the seeds were no longer flyin’ about, grunted in satisfaction and moved back into their home. Hem stood out in the back yard, hands all planted on his hips like a prospector surveyin’ his prospectin’.

Gilba Gilba’s boundaries extended right up to the Fleep Fleep Forest, which contained lush, thick shrubbers and clearings of the finest sort. Hem and his mates often lost themselves in the green darkness of Fleep Fleep on regular occasions and it was just plain old fun, you gotta hand it to ‘em.

The forest ran right up agin’ the foothills of the Madman’s Mountains, harsh jagged peaks that screamed in the night. Actually was just the wind but you know how folklore goes, ya hear somethin’ out in the wilderness and you think it some sorta ghost or demon or apparition wailin’ on and on and the way the wind blew through those treacherous passes you couldn’t help but imagine some poor lost soul but just went ahead and done lost his soul up there! Suddenly the stories start up about the madmen who guard the passes and before long? WHATCHA GOT? You got myth. Nowadays most folk knew better but the legend persisted. MADMEN IN THE MOUNTAINS! Shriekin’ up there in the passes. The wind blew every night.

Hem never braved even the foothills. He was old enough to remember when the Jibberjabs came streaming out, gabbin’ and chatterin’ away without a spark of life in their shrunken hearts. NIGHTMARES FOR MONTHS after the Kajuhicky Incident. He wished he’d been older; he would have taken up arms with the rest o’ Gilba Gilba and done his part.

He took his eyes off the sharpened peaks of the mountains that hovered like angry giants above the forest.