Gemma

Chapter 3: F R E E D

Somewhere inside the cave, the jingle came again. Gemma turned to see a shadowy
four-legged figure growing larger. The steps were slow and deliberate. Each one was
punctuated by the dragging roll of a bell along the dirt floor, swaying gracefully from a
ribbon. When he came into to the light, Gemma cringed. His face had never left her,
never lost its sharpness in her dreams. Milo silently slunk behind the chest, out of sight,
and Gemma was thankful at least for that. She couldn’t stand the thought of him being the
appetizer to a Gemma-sized main course. With nothing to lose and no better ideas in her
petrified mind, she spoke.

“Hi there,” she pushed out. “I… I like your ribbon. I used to have one just like it.”

The jaguar paused to rest on his back legs and stare. Examining her face, his slim eyes
opened a touch. Gemma smiled nervously. It was then, no sooner or later than Gemma’s
teeth cleared her lips, that the jaguar attacked. 

As he sprung towards her, he let out a growl more spine-shaking than Gemma had ever
heard. They say that the fervor of a domesticated pet or long-caged beast is nothing
when compared to the fierceness of a creature in the wild. Had you asked Gemma in that
moment, she would certainly have agreed, and even more certainly would have wanted to
discuss at a time when she was not the target of a jaguar pounce.  

As luck would have it, the jaguar would never reach her. Just inches from Gemma’s face,
which was scrunched up and bracing for impact, the jaguar was stopped. Sneaking in the
shadows of the cave, Milo had made it to the other side just in time to reach out and grab
the jaguar’s tail. But, a fuzzy tail is tough to hold onto, even for an experienced tail-
grabber like Milo, and his grip slid all the way down to the dangling bell. The purple ribbon
stretched and strained from the tension. Gemma grabbed the small ship from inside the
chest and ducked away towards Milo, just as the bell and ribbon snapped off of the
jaguar’s tail. The bell fell to the dusty ground with a jingle, but Milo clutched the ribbon in
his hand. The jaguar’s momentum caused him to fly forward and slam into the open lid of
the chest, then down into the water with a splash. Gemma looked back briefly to see the
lid fall down over his head. 

They rushed out onto the miniature beach and headed straight for the Mystic Reed.
Gemma looked down at Milo and got the nod she needed. She handed him the tiny ship,
then picked Milo up and swung him over the boat’s rail. This move had been mastered
well beyond the flint toss, as hasty escapes were commonplace for a pair of treasure
hunters like them. Milo instinctively let out the sail for the reverse wind to push them off
the shore. Gemma took two steps up the Jacob’s ladder and held on as the boat cleared
the shallows. 

The jaguar raced out of the cave, sopping wet, straight towards them, but came to a stop
at the frothy shoreline. All he could do was sit on the blue sand and snarl and growl at the
receding boat. Now that Gemma and Milo were both safely on board and protected by the
waves between them, they found the jaguar slightly less intimidating than moments ago.
Milo handed Gemma her purple ribbon, then steered the boat into the open ocean.
Gemma tied the ribbon back into her hair and shouted off the stern in the back of the
boat.

“Sorry we snagged your tail and shot you into a chest of water! And sorry for taking the
tiny ship you were guarding! And…” Gemma turned back to Milo. “This is weirdest
apology I’ve ever given.” Milo nodded and banked the wheel to his left. “We’re just sorry!”
finished Gemma. 
She took over command of the wheel and set off in the direction where the sky looked
clearest. The Forgotten Island faded from view as swiftly as it had appeared, almost like
magic. Milo sprawled out on the deck with the tiny ship and began examining it. He
tapped it on the side, wiggled the rudder in back, and held it up from every angle.  

“Find anything interesting?” Gemma called out.

Milo shook his head with a sigh and placed the ship onto the wooden deck. Then, a
playful smirk crept up as he decided to spin it around like a dreidel.  

“I’d hardly call that ‘the most greatest treasure in the world’! There must be more to it,”
she continued to herself. “‘Most greatest treasure.’ Who talks like that? It’s something a
kid would say.”

The glint from the bow of another boat stole her attention. Somehow, it had come within
four lengths of the Mystic Reed without her noticing, and was now pulling alongside them.

“We’ve got company Milo!” she shouted. But Milo’s attention had been stolen too, not by
the life-sized boat pulling ever closer, but by the tiny ship in his hands. Spinning it had
betrayed an exciting secret. Something hidden was rattling around inside.  

The Mystic Reed slowed to a stop as the strange, unknown boat settled by its side. A six-
foot-tall man with dark curly hair and a long nose stepped away from his helm towards
Gemma.
“Ahoy!” he said over the railing of his old, wonky boat. It was filled with so many knick-
knacks and trinkets that it looked like a giant had picked up a dozen different shops and
shaken their contents on board.

“Ahoy,” Gemma said back. 

“Pleasure to meet you. Might I ask your name and the name of this fine vessel?” said the
man.

“My name is Gemma, and this is the Mystic Reed. My friend’s name is Milo but he’s a bit
busy at the moment.”

Milo pulled off the crow’s nest on top of the tiny ship and peeked inside the hollow mast.
His eyes grew two sizes when he spotted a scroll that had been rolled up and tucked
away. Using his lemur fingers, he clawed at it, tongue sticking out in concentration.  

“And you?” she asked back.

The man proudly stepped aside to show the full span of his boat. 

“This here is the Dusty Rust Busket,” he said with a smile.

Gemma looked confused. “Do you mean Dusty Rust Bucket?”

“Bucket? This isn’t a bucket- it’s a boat!” he snapped back.  

“I’m sorry,” said Gemma, “I just thought…”

Milo pulled the scroll from the ship and let out a sequel of delight. Finally taking notice of
the stranger,  the Dusty Rust Busket, and his general surroundings, he hid it behind his
back and joined Gemma. 

“You thought wrong,” added the man, still stinging from the question. 

“It won’t happen again, um…” Gemma replied with curiosity.

“Charles. My name is Charles Bucket. But you can call me Chuck,” he said with a grand
bow. 

Gemma tapped her shoulder and Milo hopped up. “Milo, I’d like you to meet Chuck
Bucket of the Dusty Rust Busket.” As yet, it was the silliest sentence she had ever said
aloud, but she still had many sentences and much silliness ahead of her.  

Chuck Bucket gave a less exaggerated bow and half smile to Milo.  

“Now that we’ve all been introduced, might we discuss the riddle in your lemur’s hand?”
he asked.