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examination, he realized it was the point of a tooth. The only animal he'd ever met with a mouth this large was the lingworm, so it must have come from Wisdom.
    “And so we send the dead to sea," said Truth.
    “Whatever comes back to us is what they wish us to have," said Compassion.
    “I should keep this?" asked Trix.
    "Yes," said Truth. “It will help you on your travels.”
    “Whenever you need advice,” said Compassion. “Wisdom is very helpful that way.” The head looked down at the neighboring neck-stump, already sealing over nicely with a thin violet skin.
    “You should also keep your dagger,” said Truth.
    Trix had not intended to dispose of his dagger, though he hadn't considered what effect the lingworm's blood would have on the blade. He pulled it from his belt and wiped at the gold blood with the bottom of his wet shirt. He wiped and wiped until he realized that there was no blood; the blade and hilt had turned completely gold.
    “That blade will now cut through anything,” said Truth, “and nothing born of earth can destroy it.”
    “Have a care not to lose it,” said Compassion.
    “Thank you,” said Trix. While he wasn't sure yet how he might put Wisdom's tooth to use, the dagger was an instant treasure.
    “It was a pleasure meeting you, Boy Who Talks to Animals,” said Truth, and Trix took pride in the compliment.
    “We look forward to telling the King of the Sea about you,” said Compassion. “We are honored to have been part of your story.”
    With a flip and a roll powered by energy that Trix would not have believed the injured lingworm to have, the sea serpent slipped through the hay and disappeared into the waves of the magical ocean with fluid ease.
    “So am I,” Trix said to the vanished legend, equally as honored by the experience. “So am I.”

4
    The Golden Girl
    N ow fully awake and no longer deterred by the rich stink of golden lingworm blood, Trix's stomach growled. Judging by the sun, it had been the better part of a day since he'd eaten anything that hadn’t been magically poisoned. What food he'd brought with him had been lost with his sack in the impossible ocean. He stood amidst a sea of tall hay that wouldn't prove much for him in the way of sustenance, but where there was a hay field, there was usually a farmer. A lazy farmer, judging by the state of this hay, but a farmer nonetheless. Making sure the golden dagger was securely fastened in his belt, Trix set off in the one direction that made sense: away from the ocean.
    While Trix was not as tall as his sister Saturday (and probably never would be), the hay did not completely obstruct his view as he climbed the gently sloping hill. The field went on, unbroken, for miles. His stomach protested.
    "There's no use getting all upset," Trix told his stomach. "It's not like there's another choice. We'll just have to walk until we find something."
    Trix continued walking as promised, until his feet began to complain as well. This ground, untouched by magical waves, was cracked and dry and gray. Hay stalks that broke as he pushed through them, stabbing into the bottoms of his feet like tiny iron fire pokers.
    “Sorry, feet,” Trix said. "We can't rest until we find something to eat. But as soon as we do, we will rest for a very long time."
    Trix kept up his pace, grumbling stomach and feet and all, across the endless hay field. The sun continued to rise in the cloudless sky as the sun does, clouds or not, and Trix's now-dry head and face began to burn.
    “Stay sharp, head,” Trix said to his overly warm pate. "Even if this hay would make a fine hat, we cannot stop until we find something to eat. When we do, we will eat and rest in the shade." Despite the pep talk his head continued to burn, hotter and hotter, so much so that he finally took his shirt off and wore it as a very limp hat.
    All the while, Trix walked on, up and down the rolling hills, with nothing for miles in any direction but hay. When he got to the top