The Edge of Strange Hollow

a special few to pass through the fog lines from Trader’s Hollow into the outside world. They would return with what the Hollows needed or requested—jeans and other clothing, new foods to try, tools … even furniture from towns with strange names like “Ikea.”
Poppy’s family didn’t get to make requests. People that would trade with them were few and far between. Mostly her family would trade for whatever was left over to be sold at the market. They were lucky to have Jute to conjure food.
The fog rose beyond the rooftops of Strange Hollow as Poppy entered the town. It was bustling. Kids played on the cobbled road and in the alleys between the houses, kicking balls, playing tag, and helping with chores. People moved through the streets chatting and working. Voices stilled as she passed—as they usually did, but Poppy kept her chin held high and made her way toward the market.
Halfway down the street she noticed something was off. It wasn’t until she was almost at the market that she figured out what. There were wards … everywhere. New waist-high monster carvings decked out almost every street corner. She had heard there had been more maledictions lately.
A shiver ran across her skin like a breeze.
Poppy turned and made her way toward Beth’s stall. The old woman was always kind, and still worked in the market every day, even though her son was the new governor of the Hollows, the highest-ranking person in all seven towns. It didn’t help that he apparently didn’t approve of Beth having a stand in the market. “But I prefer to stand on my own two feet,” she’d explained.
Poppy swallowed as the sharp gaze of several boys her age followed her from the alleyways. Two of them fell in behind her, whispering. At first, she couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the hair along the back of her neck stood up, so she knew it was about her. After a short distance, they got close enough for her to hear them.
“Do it,” one said.
“You do it,” said the other, with laughter in his voice.
“No, you.”
Poppy stopped walking, but didn’t turn. She spoke in a loud voice. “Somebody better do it, or I’m going to have to do it for you.” Slowly, she spun to face them.
The two boys—one dirty blond and dirty in general, and one a redhead with a sprout of hair that stood straight up above his forehead, stared back.
The redhead laughed. “Ask her.”
“You ask her.”
The red-haired boy rolled his eyes. “Are you a witch?”
Poppy’s eye roll made the boy look like an amateur. “Can’t you think of something more creative than that?”
“Well, what are you, then? Not normal. Not like us.”
Poppy swallowed. She refused to give them the satisfaction of upsetting her. “I’m a human girl … not a witch, or any other kind of creature. And you know my name just fine—but I’ll tell you what. You can just call me Boss.”
The blond tipped his head, reminding her a little of Eta when she saw something she wanted to dig out of a hole. “Your name isn’t Boss. It’s Poppy.”
“If you know it, why are you asking?”
The redhead lunged forward and poked her hard in the ribs.
Poppy gasped, doubling up.
“See,” the kid said. “I told you she was just like a regular girl.”
Poppy gritted her teeth, took two fast steps forward, and kicked him hard in the shin.
“OWW!” he hollered, and the blond kid scooted behind him fast.
“Is that regular girl enough for you?” she growled, spinning on her heel and marching away.
From behind her the red-haired boy called, “Pop-py Sun-shine ne-ver smiles.”
“Looks just like a croc-o-dile,” the other boy finished.
Poppy kept walking, but couldn’t keep her shoulders from sagging just a little. “Shocking news,” she gritted out. “I’ve read the encyclopedia too, you know. We don’t even have crocodiles here.”
The main road opened up onto the square and the market. She might have avoided the insults completely, not to mention the poke in the ribs, if she’d stuck to the back streets, but this way was faster, and she was eager to get back to Mack. She made straight for Beth’s stall. The old woman’s stand stood all the way at the far end of the market, and so, was one of the last to get people’s business.
Beth wore a patchwork dress and her white hair was piled up like a bird nest. Poppy had no idea why, but Beth had always liked her.
“Hi, Beth. How’s business?” Poppy smiled.
“Why, Poppy Sunshine! What a surprise. How are you, lightning bug?”
Poppy’s cheeks heated. She hated pet names at the best of times, but she didn’t have the heart to snap at Beth about it.
“Fine, thank you. How are you?”
“Oh, you know. I’m a hundred and twenty-six. My knees ache a bit. And my back aches a bit. My teeth aren’t so good, and my eye is acting up again—but mostly I’m fine … just fine.”
Poppy let a smile slip. “Want me to ask my mom to make you some more poplar salve for your aches?”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, dear. Yes. Do. With my thanks. Now! What can I get you? I’ve got some lovely asparagus.” Beth turned to gather up her latest, and as she did, something caught Poppy’s eye. A huge mouse the size of her palm perched on the edge of a bin, nibbling a snap pea.
Aside from being where it shouldn’t be, there was something about it that didn’t sit right with Poppy. Maybe it was the tufted ears, or the strangely long tail, but she hadn’t even given it a conscious thought when her hand shot out and grabbed it.
She held the mouse firmly, but not too tight, intending to tuck it in her pocket and set it loose back in the meadow. Before she had moved though, the mouse turned into a long green snake, writhing and hissing as it coiled its tail around her hand and wrist. Poppy yelped, but managed to hang on to it