At one time Mud Pudhle had been the most magical of all magical places.  Marshmallows grew on trees.  Our rivers flowed - not full of yawn-worthy water - but the most delicious syrup imaginable.  The kind of syrup that didn't rot your teeth out.  And we knew about rotting teeth.  The Pudhle had a secret hidey-hole where we stashed all of the brown broken teeth that we'd lost since we'd found our way to Earth.  Once we found that tunnel we'd neglected our land sorely.

I had all of my teeth. Which is something I'm very proud of.  After being stuck in the Devon Library I'd decided to forgo all of that white - teeth crumbly - substance, in the hopes that my limp, helpless wings would once again flourish into the becoming the strong weight-bearing limbs they had once been.  I'd been practicing for some time.  They were getting stronger, but I hadn't acheived lift-off.

The stinking 'sugarfree' headache plagued the Pudhlers for three days after the hole was sealed.   That's right!  Three whole days of them walking around with throbbing heads and irritable attitudes.  Even Silly Susan had strayed far from the silly shores... I was tempted to rename her Psycho Susan after she'd screamed for half an hour straight after someone had cut in front of her in a line.

By the third day, the villagers realized that cupcakes weren't going to come and knock on their door, dangling a long sugary leg in their tormented vision before tipping a chocolatey hat.   I mean... you never know... Goblins could certainly concoct it, but there were no Goblins around.  

The Mad Mayor sent us out to find something.  "Anything," he said.  His face drawn.  "If it can be eaten then I'll eat it."

"You could try this," I said.  Offering some of the mushrooms I'd found that morning on the meadows.  

The Mad Mayor started laughing and slapping his leg.  "Mushrooms?  She offered mushrooms!  I'd rather die than eat that rubbish."

I didn't inform him that death was a real option.  I just let them go.  I had mushrooms to fry. 

That night the pixies ate berries.  One of the Pudhlers had found an orchard full of trees.  "Can you imagine," the Pixie who found them said.  "I was wandering off with boxes and some Elf approached me."

"Really?"  Uncle Alfie asked.  The gathering fell silent.  Were elves getting so close?  They were dangerous.  Not run-around-with-an-axe menacing.... just lock-you-up-in-a-tiny-room-for-the-rest-of-forever-because-you-took-your-clothes-off-before-having-a-swim dangerous.  There seemed a thousand billion ways they could lock you up forever... and they had a way to justify it.  It was the law.     

"Uh huh," he said.  Juice running down his chin, staining his skin dark blue.  "He tried telling me they were his berries.  That he owned them."

"Owned them?"  Uncle Alfie asked.  "Whatever could he mean?"

"Said he'd paid someone with emeralds so all the trees belonged to him."

"Who did he pay?" I asked.  

Everyone looked at me... but their eyes were detracted by my plate.

"I have no idea.  What IS that?"

"What?"

"That thing on your plate."

"Courgette."

"Eww yuck!  That can't be healthy for you... they grow on the dirt.  It will have dirt all over it!"

"As you were saying about the elf..."

With one last disgusted look he turned back to his audience.  "He told me we'd have to pay for what we took."

"How?"  Silly Susan asked.

"With emeralds."

"We don't have emeralds."

"I realize that."

"Then how will we pay them back?"

"We won't."  The offending pixie stated.  "We'll eat all the evidence."

The Pudhlers nodded with agreement and started eating faster.  Juice flying.  Splashing big blue drops onto their clothes.  

Two days later a messenger arrived. "The Great Mud Pudhle under the hole?"  He asked.

"Yes," Silly Susan said.  Pointedly looking at the hole.

"I am here to collect a debt for a certain amount of blueberries taken from 'Wandering Orchards' over yonder hills."

"Wandering Orchards?" Silly Susan asked.  "Are they magical?  Where do they wander?"

"Nowhere," he said.  He was looking down his nose at us in disgust.  Like we were all just a bunch of ignorant and inarticulate hicks that had crawled out from under a rock. "That is just the trading name."

"I knew that," she said, her voice full of uncertainty.  None of us were brave enough to ask him what on earth a trading name was.

"So ... the emeralds for the blueberries.  Where are they?" The debt collector asked.

"We don't have any blueberries," a pixie called out.  "Look and see if you can find them."

"It doesn't matter if you have them or not.  You must pay for them."

"How do you know we took them?  It could have been anyone," The detractor hollered.

"The Pixie who took them signed his name on this invoice."  He held up an invoice.  "So... you can either pay me in emeralds within the month, plus extra emeralds for a late fee.  Or we will call you to court in Ostenacio."

Court in Ostenacio.  The place where everyone went before they ended up in the dungeons in Ostenacio.  I'd never heard of anyone that was "Not Guilty" ... you had to have lots of emeralds to get that verdict.  Unfortunately, most people went to court because they had none.

After the debt collecter left we called a quick meeting in the town square. This time Uncle Alfie and I stood strong. Well, I stand strong and he huddles up strong... his muscles aren't as good as they were. We decide that on the morrow we will go to Irswole to see the leprechauns to ask them for use of their tunnel, then we'd be able to eat proper food again and at the same time find some emeralds to pay our bill to 'Wandering Orchards'.

And yes - we were determined to pay our bill. Pixies were a bit silly, but they weren't daft. We'd heard stories of the dungeons in Ostenacio. The damp muddy floors and the clanging chains. Only bites of stale bread to eat for the rest of your life. Well, we certainly weren't going to get in that predicament!