The Goblin and a Wizard Search: Tales from the Forest of the Hooting Owl, #3

By Juliet Boyd

When an unexpected face appears at the door to Sprout's cave in Coven's Corner, he knows that secrets are at risk of coming out. The question is, who is going to have to tell the truth, because Wizards aren't easy to hide.

Sprout has his work cut out trying to keep things running smoothly, what with hooting owls butting in on conversations, a sprite determined to catch up with a promise-bearer and a riddle frog on a mission to fulfil his destiny. Wandering around the forest turns out to be much more challenging than he could ever have imagined.

How easy is it to trick a sprite? Who is prepared to eat wriggly food? Are hooting owls all-knowing, or just all-seeing? Find out today by taking a leaf out of Sprout's book and entering The Forest of the Hooting Owl.

The Goblin and a Wizard Search, Book Three in the Tales from the Forest of the Hooting Owl Series, is a book for children aged 8-12 and anyone else who is young of heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Juliet Boyd
• Release date: Sep 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386204404

Juliet Boyd

Juliet lives in Somerset in the south-west of England. She used to work in administration, but now writes full-time. Her main writing interests are fantasy, science fiction, weird fiction, horror and flash fiction. Details of her work are available on her website.

Book preview

THe GoBLiN aND a WiZaRD SeaRCH

TaLeS FRoM THe FoReST oF THe HooTiNG oWL

BooK THRee

Copyright © 2018 Juliet Boyd,

including interior illustrations.

All rights reserved.

Second Edition: 2020

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and situations portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any reference to an actual event, product or location is used in an entirely fictitious manner.

For those who dream of magical forests.

Ah, good. You’re back for another visit. I knew you couldn’t resist finding out about what happened to Wizard, and the troll, and Sprout, once the magic wore off.

This tale, as you might expect, will take many twists and turns. It’s the name of the game in The Forest of the Hooting Owl. What might seem to be, isn’t, and what isn’t, most definitely is. (It’s possible I’ve been talking too much to the riddle frogs.)

Anyway, you can be sure there will be lots of problems to solve and scrapes to get out of, in Sprout’s inimitable manner.

Don’t forget Long Tooth’s Scribblings at the back of the book, if you want a little more detail on some of the forest’s mysteries.

Right, it’s time to find out who’s at the door. Be careful. There are many forest creatures with unusually big heads.

a SHoCKiNG TiMe

Sprout sat up with a start. For a few moments, he didn’t move from the safety of his warm and snuggly bed, because he had no idea what had shocked him out of his sleep. His heart pumped hard, booming in his ears. He gulped in great mouthfuls of breath. After what seemed like a forever limbo, his ma’s voice broke the silence, raised higher than the roof of the cave. The words were ones he’d never thought he’d hear.

Sprout. There’s a big, scrunchy face at the door.

A face? On its own? Was he still asleep? No. Goblins didn’t have nightmares. Daymares, absolutely definitely.

His ma wasn’t prone to being fanciful, but she was often mistaken. He stumbled out of his room, still in a dazed state from his sleep, his night trousers crumpled up around his knees, and saw his ma standing a little way back from the door, as frozen as an icicle on a frosty night. The fearing on her face was genuine.

Sprout turned his attention to the door. He peered through the reeds and a breath got caught in his throat. Yes, there was a face. Yes, it was big. Yes, some might call it scrunchy, or even ugly, if they were being very mean. And yes, it would’ve been scary, if you didn’t know to whom the face belonged. Because it wasn’t a face hanging there by itself, which would have been very odd, indeed. It was absolutely positively attached to a body. And Sprout did know who it was. He smiled. Trunk Face, he said, and stepped towards the door.

His ma grabbed his arm, tighter than a cone-headed vice snake, and forced him to stop. What did you say? Is that as being a troll? An actual troll, as lives under bridges, and as I’ve forbidden you to visit?

Sprout lowered his head. Yes, Ma, but I didn’t go on a visiting. He came here. We did talk about where we lived, when we met.

His ma screwed up her mouth. Did you tell him as he could come here?

No. Not exactly. But we didn’t tell him he couldn’t. I never expected him to want to. He never leaves his bridge. Sprout turned to look out the door again. Usually. I have no idea why he’s here. Sprout bit at his lip. That wasn’t entirely a proper truth. He did have a suspicion fester brewing, a particularly uncomfortable one. Why don’t I talk to him and see what he wants? It must be important for him to have come.

The thing was, when Sprout and his uncle had confessed to his ma all the things they had done without telling her, they had missed out one tiny bit of information, because they didn’t want to scare her too much in one go. Yes, they had told her about the troll, and Alicia, and the mother witch, and the house, and ... Wizard, of sorts. His ma had been scared enough at the thought of a dog roaming the forest. She would’ve been even more scared if they’d said that dog was really a witch. They hadn’t actually decided they weren’t going to tell her, but when it came to it, they just didn’t. Sprout had a feeling that secret was about to bite him. He practised his surprised face in his head a few times, for the moment when he had to reveal the truth, and tried to think of some words that would make her more accepting.

The truth of the matter was that he was also scared. He had known the dog would one day turn