These words are reflections on a dirty mirror—shadows of the reflections on that mirror. They will attempt to emulate the reality but will do so probably poorly. Alas, I would like to tell you a little story. Well, it’s not a little story. It’s quite grand actually, though the characters are a bit small in stature. One of them is a human child after all. Adolescent, really. (Just get on with it!) Yes, yes, alright. We join Osmo Unknown (the aforementioned human), Bonk the Cross (a half-badger, half-wombat) (lovely chap, best darn character) (I’m partial to Never the pangolin girl myself.) (You would be.) Right, ignoring that.
Osmo’s mother commits a most heinous act in all of creation that could cause the utter destruction and demise of all humanity, and it’s all her fault because she wasn’t careful. She has doomed everyone. Wait, no. That came out wrong. Let me start over. You see, there’s a big rock. It has some words carved into it—a treaty if you will. (Well, they must. It is in fact a treaty.) The treaty is between beings known as Quidnunx and humans. There’s more to it than this, but: Don’t kill us, and we won’t kill you. And don’t kill anything that talks. And well, you can guess what Osmo’s mother accidentally did. Osmo is the one who must face the consequences. (Psh! Yeah right, an “accident.” And before everyone starts moaning about how it’s “not fair WAH!” that Osmo is the one punished, get your darnself over it.)
So anyway, Osmo meets Bonk and Never; together they must traverse the Eightpenny Woods—the land of the dead—to find Osmo’s new bride and keep the treaty and the peace. You might be imagining a trio of great friends who never knew they were friends until they first saw each other. (Ha!) Unfortunately, you’d be incorrect. Along the way, there is much arguing, much trickery, and yes, much uncurling from a spiky ball to face the world outside perfectly lonesome comfort zones. This group of unlikely companions must face a land full of the unknown, but they will do so together.
Thus concludes our little story that wasn’t so little after all. And no, that wasn’t much of a conclusion (wasn’t much of a beginning neither), you were warned that those words were just raindrops scattering away from a much more substantial cloud. The real story, besides, is in Osmo Unknown and the Eightpenny Woods.
(I received an e-ARC from the publisher via NetGalley.)
Cute little story