by Onk Beakman
“That’s what we were doing,” Stump reminded him. “We were busy and Kaos struck—but we’ll find Master Eon. I promise.”
Spyro took a deep breath, his raised scales relaxing slightly. “I know,” he said finally, nodding. “Have we heard from the others?”
Stump Smash wished he was bringing good news. He shook his trunk. “Lightning Rod and Zoo Lou are searching Fantasm Forest. Scratch and Flashwing are on their way to Molekin Mine.”
Spyro sighed. “It’s taking so long without being able to use Portals.”
“Yes,” muttered Wiggleworth. “Well, we can’t use them without . . .”
His voice trailed away as Spyro shot him a look. “Without a Portal Master,” the dragon said in a voice that was frostier than an ice-clops’s snowcone. “Yes, we know.”
Another voice echoed around the chamber. “Spyro, where are you?”
It was Flameslinger, a Fire Skylander and one of Stump Smash’s oldest friends.
“Over here, Sling,” the powerful tree called out.
Flameslinger tore around the corner, skidding to a halt in front of them, a red hot trail sizzling in his wake. The elf was always on the move, rushing here, there and everywhere. He wasn’t one for cooling his heels. Behind him, a smaller, dumpier figure struggled to keep up. This was Hugo, Master Eon’s right-hand Mabu. The little fellow was a natural panicker, but he had impressed Stump Smash since Master Eon had vanished. Stump had expected the Mabu to fall to pieces, but Hugo was rising to the challenge, helping to coordinate the search for the missing Portal Master.
“We’ve got a problem.” Hugo wheezed, huffing and puffing as he joined the others. “I mean, another one.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” said Spyro with a sigh, sharing a look with Stump Smash.
“Well, you told us to listen out for anything weird,” said Flameslinger. “And this sounds pretty weird to me.”
“What does?” asked Stump Smash.
“It’s the Giggling Forest,” Hugo replied, peering over his oversize glasses. “Spyro, it’s started to cry.”
Chapter Two
The Weeping Forest
Okay, run this by me again,” said Flynn. “There’s a forest that laughs?”
“We’ve explained twice already,” Flameslinger snapped, holding on to the edge of the hot-air balloon’s jiggling basket.
“Hey, hot stuff,” grinned Flynn, the pilot, pulling a lever and trying to ignore the fact that it came off in his hand. “I’ve been kinda busy here, trying not to crash.”
“That’s a first,” grumbled Flameslinger under his breath.
Stump Smash understood the elf’s frustration. As soon as Spyro had heard about the Giggling Forest, he had dispatched Stump and Flameslinger to investigate, along with Tech Skylander Countdown and Magic Skylander Wrecking Ball. They’d called upon Flynn to transport them to the forest in his hot-air balloon. Flynn was Skylands’ best pilot. They knew this because Flynn was always telling them. He’d pointed it out three times before they’d even taken off, and twice since nearly smashing the basket into the Eternal Archive’s tallest turret. The Mabu was almost as full of hot air as one of his balloons, but he’d helped them many times over the years. There was a good heart beating in that puffed-up chest.
“The clue’s in the name, Flynn,” Stump said. “The Giggling Forest giggles. All the time. Has done for thousands of years.”
“What’s the joke?” Flynn asked, spinning the wheel to narrowly avoid a school of sky-salmon, only to find himself heading straight for a flying whale.
“No one knows,” Stump replied, stumbling into Wrecking Ball, who had wrapped his tongue around the ropes to stop himself being flung from the basket. “Guess they’re just happy.”
“Not any more,” pointed out Countdown. “What’s-his-name said they’d started crying.”
“Flameslinger!” The elf laughed, before shrugging at Flynn. “Don’t mind Countdown, he gets forgetful.”
“Do I?” asked Countdown. “Can’t remember.”
Wrecking Ball snickered but couldn’t join in the conversation. He was a little tongue-tied, after all.
“This isn’t good,” said Countdown. “This isn’t good, at all.”
They were standing in the middle of a clearing in the Giggling Forest, after making what some would call a bumpy landing. Flynn was calling it awesome, but he was also trying to rebuild the basket that had “accidentally” smashed into the ground. The pilot also claimed that someone must have raised the island by a few yards at the last minute, but the Skylanders were too taken aback by the sound greeting them to argue.
The trees of the Giggling Forest weren’t just crying. They were wailing.
“Stump, you better talk to them,” said Wrecking Ball.
“Why me?” asked Stump Smash.
“Because you’re a tree?” suggested Flameslinger.
Stump Smash couldn’t argue with that. He marched forward to the nearest blubbing trunk.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, trying to get the tree’s attention. “Feeling a little blue?”
The tree stopped sniffling for a second, looked at Stump with watery eyes, and then bawled. “We’re so sad,” it howled, sap streaming from its wooden nose.
“We kinda noticed,” said Countdown, walking up beside the Life Skylander. “But what gives?”
“You better see for yourselves,” the tree sniffed, waving them farther into the forest with a trembling branch. “It’s awful.”
Why is the Giggling Forest so sad? Where has Squirmgrub taken Master Eon? And can the Skylanders retrieve the stolen segments of the Mask of Power before it’s too late?
Find out in . . .
STUMP SMASH
CROSSES THE BONE DRAGON
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