Wendy Gooday Willoughby stepped with purpose down the tree lined path and into the gully. Her faithful feline, Scampers, weaved gracefully through her legs with each step. Several meandering pathways beckoned her into the woods, calling her name through whispers on the wind, but her attention stood firm, like granite cased in diamond. She'd always had a knack for holding a pinpoint focus, but it was amplified tenfold today. She'd planned this for weeks, but only today was she able to muster the full surplus of her courage.

Whispy shadows danced at the edge of each pathway, still intent on halting her stride with promises of false pleasure.

"Come this way, girl," called one, with a voice hoarse and rough, like two stones grinding together.

"Run to me, child. Oh, the games we can play," called another.

"Come to me and we will sing and dance among the flowers," said the last.

"No!" she yelled.

Wendy knew their intentions and took great pleasure in their rage as she stepped past each doomed pathway.

She stomped her feet together in muddy waters and clenched her jaw, coming to a rest outside the maw of the creatures lair, the mouth of a large sewage pipe nestled at the end of the gully.

Wendy's steely eyes stared hard into the inky blackness of the man-made cavern, not a flicker of fear penetrating her hard determination. The trickster wraiths watched with worry from the foot of the trails.

Wendy's sister, Fiona, often told her of the horrible creature who called the sewage cave home, and the stock of treasure he greedily guarded. According to Fiona, one day a little girl would come to claim the treasure and Wendy was certain she was that little girl.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a strip of fabric ripped from one of her Sunday dresses. Taking the strip, she brought it around her head, and knotted it firmly into place. She wasn't sure why, but people on television seemed to do this when they meant business.

"Mogindash!" she yelled, and waited for a reply. Only her voice came back to her.
Scampers rubbed against her leg, cocked his head sideways, and meowed.

"No, Scampers. I know he's in there. He's just afraid to answer 'cause he knows I'm the one."

She rummaged through the murky waters in front of the bluff where she stood until she found a large rock. She hurled it into the darkness and listened. The rock never made a sound.

"I think I hit him, Scampers," she squealed. "Mogindash! I'm here for your treasure!"

She could hear movement, followed by a noise which sounded like a million people exhaling in unison. Wind blasted from the tunnel's mouth, forcing Wendy to toss up her hands as her hair whipped around her face.

"You may come, girl," said a low, sandpaper voice. "But the animal must stay."
Wendy looked down to Scampers, who gave a meow in protest.

"You heard him Scampers. Don't worry. I'll be okay. You go home and tell Fiona. Tell her we're going to keep our house and everything's gonna be okay."

Scampers looked on with concern for a moment, then trotted off to carry out Wendy's orders.

Wendy turned back to the cave, and pulled her pocket knife from her satchel. She thought about her father to keep her courage up. She knew how proud he would have been of her for taking care of the family during such hard times.

"Okay, Mogindash. Here I come."

With knife in hand, she disappeared into the dark vault.