“What are we looking for again?” Billy asked, stepping up onto a grubby log. His sneaker broke into a weakened spot. He teetered a bit, walking across the log, a bulging backpack slung over his shoulders offsetting his balance.

“Gargalfae,” Neal answered assuringly. He walked through the dried brush set on his own path, keeping a watchful eye out for anything unusual through the woods.

“Gargle-fay?” Billy asked, his tone bearing a slight air of disgust for how the sounds fit together. The boy held his arms out as his balance wavered.

“They’re supposed to be out in these woods,” Neal said. He stopped and peered through the trees around him. Signs of civilization had long since vanished from behind the forest veil. Trees stretched in all directions. A narrow stream kept their navigation steady with how to get back to the main road. Mud caked onto the boys’ jackets and pants legs. Bugs scurried around their treading. Birds cried out in the barren canopies above. The air was thin with the crisp coldness of an early winter, smelling of pine and wet moss. Neal lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He looked slowly through the dense stretches of foliage until curling around to see Billy jumping down off of the log, splashing into a puddle.

“I can’t believe you still believe in stuff like that,” Billy said. “I stopped believing in fairies when I was, like, five. That was before Santa Claus.”

“Yeah, I did too, but I think there might be something to the local legend,” Neal said. “Maybe we can actually find something really cool.”

“Is this because of your report on fairies for Mrs. Klyne’s class?”

“Not just fairies, the Gargalfae,” Neal said. “It’s due on Monday and I’ve only just started, so I’m hoping that we can actually find something that may prove they’re real.” Billy huffed and shivered through the cold.

“Maybe if you put this much attention into your math homework, your mom wouldn’t have to ground you so much,” Billy muttered.

“You gonna help me look or not?” Neal asked. He reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his phone, making sure the camera was still on and ready.

“I’m out here, aren’t I?” Billy replied. “Just… wish it wasn’t so cold.” He shivered as the distant cry of a hawk echoed beyond the towering trees.

“Still better than listening to your sister practice oboe though, right?”

“Oh, a thousand times better,” Billy said. “But we shouldn’t be out so late. It gets dark so much quicker now.” Neal chuckled and continued looking through the binoculars.

“We won't be out long,” Neal said. Billy looked around their immediate area. There seemed to be nothing but woods in every direction. The scent of pine and dirt filled his lungs with every growing breath. He rubbed his hands together and kicked over a sizable stone, revealing the worms and beetles scrambling underneath.

“So what are we looking for, exactly?” Billy asked. His cheeks glowed with a reddish tint, the cold nipping at his skin. “Like… signs or whatever.”

“Gargalfae are said to leave circles like other fairies,” Neal said, gazing into the distance.

“Sure,” Billy said.

“But they're supposed to be circles of feathers, specifically,” Neal added.

“Feathers?” Billy asked. “Why? Oh, ‘cus they're ‘feather fairies’ or ‘tickle fairies’ or whatever you want to call them?”

“That's just what I've read,” said Neal, dropping the binoculars from his eyes.

“Alright, anything else?” Billy asked.

“You're supposed to hear laughter when they're around.”

“Laughter?”

“Yeah, but like… distant laughter,” said Neal. “It's supposed to sound like it's always far away, but just close enough to hear. It's how they catch people because you're not supposed to be able to find their victims. They say that if you get caught, they keep you trapped in their world and tickle you forever., like with other fairy circles.”

“Sounds creepy,” Billy said, shivering with a sudden chill.

“Yeah, well, just stick with me and you'll be alright,” Neal said, smiling down at Billy. “Just watch out where you step and look out for feathers.” Billy chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Not much either of us could do against some ‘tickle fairies’,” said Billy, pushing back against imagining what it would be like to be tickled eternally by some fairies. He shook through another shiver, overcome with the image of bugs crawling across his skin.

“Pst, I ain't scared of some fairies,” Neal said. He started off Eastward as Billy stayed close by his side. He struggled to keep up with Neal's more athletic drive and endurance. He huffed and ducked beneath a branch along the path taken by his friend.

The pair of friends walked deeper and deeper into the woods. Each step crunched with the subtle dread of finding themselves lost between the trees. Billy stayed close to Neal and let him lead, carving the path they took together. He kept his eyes out for feathers or fairies or anything out of the ordinary, hoping to find something interesting to not make the adventure a total waste of time. Neal retained his optimism for a short while, but after several minutes of finding little to speak of, he paused in place and looked to the sky. The blue canvas above was darkening and shifting into a noticeably orange hue. Billy stopped behind him and looked up as well. Neal pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time.

“It's getting late,” Neal said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Billy huffed and stepped forward around him.

“Can’t be out past dark,” he said. “Dad will lose it if we’re not home before then.”

“You wanna turn back then?” Neal asked. Billy chuckled and adjusted the bag against his back.

“What’s the matter?” Billy taunted. “Getting scared?” Neal rolled his eyes and started off without him.

“Whatever, man,” Neal said. “You’re the one with the curfew. I’m just trying to be nice.”

“I’m not the one who still believes in fairies and bigfoot and stuff,” Billy said, trailing behind his friend. He reached down to pick up a sturdy stick, wacking it against the sides of trees as he and Neal pushed through the woods. Their footsteps crunched against dried leaves and twigs as they weaved around branches and elaborate spider webs. Neal pressed on in a slight huff. Billy followed at a greater distance, prepared to turn back at any moment. “It’s all good man, we can still play some League when we get back. I don’t know if we’ll find anything out this far, especially when it’s this dark.” Billy stared down at his sneakers as the two walked. He saw the mud caked over them and thought back to how recently his mother had bought them for him. A cold chill came over him as he imagined her shrill cries of disgust upon seeing how he had already gotten them dirty. He wondered if there would be a way to clean them before she would see them again. Maybe with a hose or some detergent or something. As he walked and contemplated in the stillness of his crunching footsteps, he unknowingly walked into the back of Neal, standing with his arms spread out. “Hm?”

“Shhh,” Neal hushed. The pair fell silent. They stood in the middle of a small clearing, listening through the branches. Along the whistling breeze, distant melodic noises cut through the trees. What Billy would have imagined as nothing more than some strange bird calls quickly began sounding strikingly similar to laughter. Distant, echoing, wailing laughter. The two listened to it in an eerie stillness. The far-away cries bellowed and continued as constant as the wind itself, unending yet shrieking out vaguely in the sound of a voice laughing and calling out for help.

“Whoa,” Billy said softly.

“You hear it?” Neal asked in a whisper.

“Yeah,” Billy said. He nervously adjusted the straps on his bag, clenching his fists onto them. “I don’t like this dude.”

“It’s fine,” Neal said.

“No, man, let’s… let’s get out of here,” Billy said. He took a step backward.

“No, dude, I said it’s fine,” said Neal, his voice getting louder. “We’re getting close, I can feel it.”

“Yeah, I hear it and I… dude, I don’t like this,” Billy said. “I’m turning back.” Billy took another step back. He turned to make a swift retreat from the woods.

“Billy, wait!” Neal called back. Billy pushed through the brush, carving through an alternate path to try and get out of the woods as quickly as possible. The sounds of manic laughter persisted on the soft whistles of the wind. They grew louder, cut with the faint chorus of additional laughter, distant high-pitched snickers. Billy focused neither on the sounds riding the winds nor the shouts of his friend behind him, racing to catch up with him. He only focused on racing back home, hurrying to get out of the woods in any direction he could manage. After several seconds of rushed storming, Billy gasped as he found himself being tugged toward the ground.

“Gah!” Billy cried. He hit a small patch of dried leaves, bracing himself with his elbows and forearms. He immediately started to rise once more to continue his escape, only to find his foot trapped within a strange confinement.

“Billy,” Neal said, catching up with him. Billy looked behind him and turned, seeing his ankle having crossed a peculiar arrangement of feathers on the ground.

“Whoa,” Billy said. He pushed himself up and studied the strange shape, his foot still crossed over the feathery line. The shape was a near perfect circle, what looked to be set upon atop a bed of dried brush. The feathers glimmered with a sparkly shine. They touched themselves from tip to end, arranged in a clear and visible loop. The placement and the way that the feathers almost shone in the waning sunlight boasted evidence of having been placed recently, if not seconds since Billy and Neal trekked by. The interior of the circle was normal, but the feathers remained still while the leaves rustled in the winds around them.

“Oh, dude, you found it,” Neal said, his eyes wide and awestruck as he gazed down at the feathery circle. Billy shifted in place. He tried to retract his foot from across the boundary, but found it mysteriously immobile where it crossed over the feathery border.

“Alright, great, now… how do I get out?” Billy asked.

“What do you mean?” Neal asked.

“I mean, I’m stuck,” Billy said bluntly, his heart racing a bit. He supported the claim by showing legitimate efforts to pull his foot out of the center of the circle. Billy could twist and still move his foot and leg, but felt something unbreakable holding it in place. Neal watched for a second before chuckling.

“Dude, come on,” Neal said. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Billy said, almost angrily. “Why would I do this? I want to go home!” Neal stood up straight and crossed his arms. He tilted his head and watched his friend struggle to retract his foot from the feather circle.

“Nah, man, you’re screwing with me,” Neal said. Billy grumbled. He strained as he continued to try and pull his foot from the circle. His hands dug into the leaves and dirt by his sides, clawing and pulling at anything he could to try and pull himself free.

“I seriously can’t get out!” Billy shouted. He reached out to Neal to take his hand. Neal grabbed onto Billy’s hand and began to pull. Neal tugged hard, his hiking boots digging into the dirt below. He pulled as Billy’s face strained in pain, his ankle locked into place by something beyond what he could see.

“Oh my god!” Neal said. He grunted as he pulled, eventually dropping Billy’s hand as he himself plummeted back onto his bottom.

“See?” Billy asked frantically. “Get me out!”

“I can’t dude,” Neal said, racking his mind for answers. Billy looked around. The daylight continued to fade out of the sky. The laughter riding the winds that whistled around them seemed to grow with his paranoia. His throat ran dry as he wiggled in place. “I don’t know how you’re doing this.”

“I’m not!” Billy said, his face flushed pale. “Try and… I don’t know, break the circle with something.”

“Oh, good idea,” Neal said. He looked around for a moment before rushing over to a nearby tree. He grabbed onto a branch and bent it backward, slowly breaking it from the trunk. Billy began to hear more of the small, snickering laughter echoing around them. He looked to his foot in the middle of the circle, feeling a slight rustling of activity around it. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but began to feel his foot being manipulated physically in some way.

“Neal…” Billy said cautiously.

“Almost got it!” Neal said back, twisting and bending the branch. Billy squirmed where he sat, trapped by the circle. Odd sensations began to wash over him. He felt his foot being moved and handled by something that he could see was not there. It moved beyond his control, being held in place until it stood perfectly upright. Before long, Billy could feel his sneaker being loosened. To his senses, his strings fell from their knot and the tongue wiggled out. Before his eyes, Billy could see everything still intact with his shoe still on his foot, but he still sat with the unmistakable feeling of his whole shoe being lifted from his relatively immobile foot inside the circle.

“Something’s happening, Neal,” Billy said, anxiously scrambling. “Get me out of this thing!”

“I’m coming,” Neal said. With a hearty crack, Neal tore the branch from the tree and rushed over to plunge the branching, leafy end against the feathers. The frail end of the spidering branches rustled through the brush around the feathers, sending dried sticks and leaves scattering about the patch. Neal pushed the branch into and around the circle of feathers. The feathers themselves shimmered in the waning sunlight. They remained perfectly in place, keeping Billy’s foot in the center of the ring.

“It’s not working!” Billy cried, pulling on his leg. From what he could feel alone, his isolated sneaker had popped off of his foot. He looked down to see it still there, but a light breeze planted a dreadful, unmistakable chill against his lone foot.

“Hang on, I’m trying!” Neal said. He grunted as he thrust the branch down against the feathers, staying perfectly and unnaturally still. The ring of feathers existed as if one with the ground itself. No amount of Neal pushing and raking the area with the tree branch so much as budged the strange, mystical spot. Billy continued to try and pull himself out. The snickering laughter continued around them, echoing the swishing of the branch against the ground. Billy only stopped struggling as his eyes went wide and a blushing rush of trepidation coursed through his psyche.

“Oh no…” Billy said softly.

“What?” Neal asked, panting through his struggles.

“They’re- some… thing is… taking off my sock,” Billy said. Neal stopped trying to disrupt the circle. He huffed and wiped a layer of sweat from his brow, staring skeptically down at his friend.

“What?” Neal asked sourly.

“Something’s taking off my sock!” Billy said. From where his foot remained isolated in the circle, the icy touch of fresh air caressed against a foot newly bare. Whatever it was that had left him feeling as though his sneaker had been removed did the same with his sock. Billy wiggled his toes to open air, feeling freedom and the kiss of a crisp breeze. The two boys stared down to his foot in the center of the circle. His sneaker and sock were still on, but Billy became all too sure of the sensory phenomenon the more that came with it.

“Dude, seriously?” Neal asked, chuckling a bit. “Now I know you’re messing with me.”

“Dude, I’m telling you!” Billy shouted. The snickering laughter around them grew, now cast over the whistling of the wind. Billy’s white-faced panic grew as he began to feel somethings, soon to be several somethings, moving around his trapped, bare foot. “You have to get me out, right now.”

“Or what?” Neal asked, letting the branch drop to the ground. “You’re the one keeping us here.”

“No, I’m not!” Billy said. He gave his leg a few more sturdy tugs to show how he struggled to free his foot from the feather ring. He felt more presence around his foot, moving in closely and carefully. “I seriously can’t get out. You have to do something, pl-eeeeaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhahahahaha!!!”

Billy’s body jolted. His muscles clenched as he fell back against the woodland floor. His hands clamped down over his face as shrieking giggles began pouring from his mouth. His body rocked side to side and squirmed in place. His other leg kicked to keep trying to push himself out of the circle, still careful not to cross the feathery line. Across his trapped foot, dozens of light, scratching sensations spread about the boy’s bare sole. Tiny hands from beyond their visible world spread around Billy’s ticklish foot, scratching and exploring every delicate inch with careful scrutiny. The tickles flooded through Billy's body in an instant, quickly reducing his composure to nothing but constant, heavy laughter.

“Pleeeaaahahahahahahahahasse!!” Billy cried out, clawing the ground toward his friend. Neal laughed and stepped back, watching Billy’s performance of hysterics.

“Oh wow, you’re really committing to this, aren’t you?” Neal asked. He stepped back and watched with his arms crossed over his chest. Billy’s face quickly began to redden with the influx of ticklish sensations pouring through his senses. More and more tiny hands seemed to join in touching and teasing across his trapped, bare foot from beyond his sight. Little nails scurried and scratched across the plush, warm surface of his sole. They moved about freely, tickling every possible inch with ruthless efficiency. His foot squirmed in its trappings, his toes curling and flexing, but no matter how the boy moved it, his foot remained perfectly accessible to the tickles waged against it, hindering nothing.

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhehehehehhahahahaaa!!” Billy’s light, boyish laughter echoed through the woods around him. A brazen coolness in the other world caressed his bare foot, being devoured by endless, mischievous tickling. Dozens of concentrated scribbles covered different sections of his foot. Some focused on his heel while others traversed up and down his arch. Many made themselves known around his toes, eagerly weaving around the boy’s squirming digits. Billy squealed with laughter. His face darkened the shade of the autumn leaves around him. His body wriggled in place. His hands clawed at the ground, trying to drag himself away from the circle, but the invisible hold on his ankle held firm.

“Wha?” Neal asked, laughing at his friend’s antics. “What’s happening?”

“Theeeheheheheeheey’re tickling meeeheheheheee!!” Billy shouted, his voice peaking in pitch. Neal chuckled as he watched Billy grasp for his pants leg.

“No way, man,” Neal said. “You’re messing with me.” Billy shook his head. Even as the words left Neal’s mouth, he failed to see how Billy could be that good at faking ticklish laughter. Still, he backed away, watching on amused.

“Naaahhahahahaoooo!!” Billy shouted. “Hehehehelp me pleehehahahahse!!” Neal examined the scene skeptically. From what he could see, Billy’s foot was just flailing away from inside the circle, his shoe on with nothing around it. He imagined that maybe some kind of bugs could have gotten inside the boy’s shoe, but failed to see that would keep Billy from just pulling himself out.

“Just get out, man,” Neal said, shaking his head.

“I caaaahahahahahahan’t!!” Billy laughed. He tugged and tugged at his foot, but something that he could only feel kept it effectively inside the circle. He reached for clumps of leaves and sticks across the woodland floor, anything he could use to pull himself out, but nothing seemed to work. More and more tiny hands joined in to scratch away at Billy’s sole, still feeling as if it were completely bare. They joyfully reveled in the boy’s abundant ticklishness. No matter how it moved or twisted in place, the devilish, otherworldly ticklers remained persistent and knew exactly the right ways to torment the young boy’s sole. They scratched up and down his plush, soft sole. They danced back and forth across his arch. They dug in between and underneath each of his toes, able to reach and scratch at the particularly sensitive and untouched spots.

“Seriously man, knock it off,” Neal said, his expression twisted with fading disbelief. Billy laughed harder and harder as more tickles arose across his foot. He felt more presence surrounding it, more hands exploring his foot’s overwhelming ticklishness. The boy had long since forgotten just how ticklish he was, especially on his feet, but his reminder came with what was unmistakably the most he had ever been tickled in his life. Billy thrashed and rocked side to side against the ground. His fists pounded into the damp brush below as more scribbling fingers joined in to further his ticklish agony.

“Naaaaaahhhhhahhahahahahahaha!!! Ohhh gaahahahahahad!!!” Billy cried out. The boy’s foot was quickly covered with mysterious and invisible tickles, all attacking his bare sole freely. His foot continued to waft and his toes continued to wiggle, free from the restrictions of his shoe and sock, despite still wearing them from what he could still see. Neal simply gazed down at his friend screaming with laughter over what appeared to be nothing. He laughed and shrugged and took out his phone.

“Alright, well, since I need to get something for the project,” said Neal. He held up his phone for a landscape shot, capturing Billy’s wild, ticklish hysteria in video. Billy was far too concerned with the tickles flushing through his senses to notice right away. His face beamed a bright shade of red while tears began to bead in the corners of his eyes. The tickling against his helpless foot continued with studious consistency. Billy flailed in place as he laughed, still frantically trying to pull his foot from the feathery circle.

“Staaaahahhahahahahap!!” Billy cried out. His hands beat against the ground. His crying laughter bellowed through the surrounding trees. Neal chuckled along with the boy, capturing his performance while circling around the ring. Billy heaved and huffed. More and more tickles flooded through his ticklish foot. Whatever existed on the other side of the circle persisted delightfully keen on keeping his foot enveloped in absolute ticklish madness. Small beings fluttered and danced about the boy’s ticklish area. They scribbled and scraped tiny fingers all over his trapped foot, swinging to the vibrating frequencies of his laughter and the ignition of his ticklish nerves throughout.

“I mean, if you’re going to keep this up, I’m using it for my project,” Neal said, capturing a video of Billy’s ticklish display. Billy’s hands alternated between covering his face, banging against the ground to his sides, and clawing at the dirt in desperate attempts to pull himself out of the circle. He could hear the maniacal giggling over his own laughter. It seemed to echo through the trees and bushes around them, enclosing in more and more as the tickles scurrying across his foot grew. Dozens of tiny hands seemed to become hundreds, all focusing their efforts on tormenting the single foot with ruthless tickles, more tickles than Billy had ever experienced compounded in his life.

“Gaaaaahhhhhahahahahaaa! Mahahahahahaaaaake it STAAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAP!!!” Billy cried out. Tears stained his cheeks. His hands kicked up dirt and leaves, covering his arms and legs. He was careful not to let his free leg cross over the feathery barrier, but keeping his focus on anything besides the tickles became much more of a challenge the longer they persisted. Billy tried to turn himself over, to grab onto anything he may use to pull himself free, but his ankle remained perfectly stuck in place. He could only hope that Neal would eventually realize that his plight was less performative than it seemed.

“Heh heh, sorry man, you’re caught now,” Neal said, his tone still encouraging Billy’s theatrics as he circled around the spot with his phone pointed to record it all. Billy continued to scream with laughter. Fear spiraled through his senses with as much potency as the tickles themselves, fear that he would indeed be trapped there forever, enduring tickles for the rest of his life. He screamed and bellowed with ticklish laughter in an exhibition impossible to fake. The tickles ravished all over the boy’s helpless foot, attacking the bare stretches of nerves between his heel and his toes.

“NAAAAAHHHHHHHAHAHAHAAAA!!! STAHAHAHAAP IT!!!” Billy shrieked. His face beamed a bright shade of red. His chest and jaw ached with the constant stream of laughter spilling from his mouth. The ethereal giggles around him compiled more and more, invisible as they snickered through the trees. Hungry scratches of fingers dug into his toes, leaving no spot free from the ticklish madness into which the boy was thrust. Billy tried to flail his foot still to deter the tickles, but the weight and force of so many small hands covering the spot kept it nearly immobile, sitting upright and flexed to be more accessible for the tickles. No matter how hard he laughed or tried to free himself, the tickles continued to pour through his senses, feasting off of the ticklish nerves throughout the single helpless foot.

“Ours, ours,” the snickering voices chanted from the surrounding woods. Neal appeared deaf to their sounds, yet Billy could still hear them quite plainfully over his own manic laughter. Through his tearful eyes, Billy caught glimpses of flying shapes hovering in the air around him and Neal. He could see many, as he blinked, hovering around his foot, occasionally appearing as bare as it felt. He swung his arms in the air, trying to swat them away, only for them to giggle and taunt and tickle faster still. Billy had pulled much of his residual focus into making sure that no other part of his out cross into the feather circle.

“QUIT IT-AAAAHHHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!” Billy laughed. The tickles consumed his foot, reducing the boy’s composure to nothing but tears and laughter. Neal chuckled along as he filmed. He circled the feathers several times for different angles before finally putting his phone away.

“Alright, that should be good,” Neal said. “I mean, I don’t think Mrs. Klyne’s expecting us to find anything real anyway. Thanks for this.” As Neal stood back, expecting Billy to stop laughing, hop up, and brush himself off, he stared with cynical curiosity as Billy continued to laugh and flail in the dirt. “Alright man, that’s enough. Let’s get out of here.”

“GAAAHHAHHAHAHAHA!!!” Billy laughed. “I CAAAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!!! PLEEEAHAHHASE HELP MEEEEEHEHHEHAHHAHAHA!!!” Billy reached for Neal’s shoe. Neal backed away swiftly, chuckling a bit.

“Come on, man,” Neal said. “I got what I need and it’s getting late.” The tickles only kept coming. Tiny hands worked together in short, concentrated spots around Billy’s bare foot. More left, only to be immediately replaced by others. Fingers danced all over Billy’s tender, pink arch. They traversed up and down the milky stretch of his ticklish arch. They plucked and scribbled all over the base of Billy’s toes, his digits shrouded in tickling fingers digging into some of the most sensitive and ticklish areas on his entire body. Billy thrashed in the brush. He screamed with laughter as his voice began to grow hoarse and numb.

“PLEEAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHASSEE!!” Billy continued to beg. Neal examined his expressions carefully, his assurance that his friend was faking being replaced by hesitant confusion. The tickles escalated still, worsening more and more by the second. Billy began to gasp through his laughter. His cries echoed up through the trees, joining those teasing and taunting him from the shadows of approaching night. He pleased more with his pounding, racing heart than his voice could manage to speak. He wailed and screamed as much as his withering voice would allow. Tears rained down against the ground upon which he flailed, steadily surrendering to his fate. “PLEEAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAASE!!!!”

“Gift…” the voices around him whispered loudly through their giggles. “Gift… gift…” Billy could hardly make out the word at first, but once he did, he almost immediately recognized what it meant. His mind rattled against the whirlwind of tickles pouring up through his senses from his lone, defenseless foot. He thought little about what he needed to do before taking the measures to secure his freedom. Billy reached back toward Neal, his hand out and trembling.

“PLEAAAHHAHAHAHAHSE!!!!” Billy screamed. Tears poured down his face, a move far too real for Neal to believe inauthentic. Without wanting to believe the legend unfolding before him, Neal reached out to take Billy’s hand once more. He pulled again, his friend still locked in place by the invisible force.

“Come on, man!” Neal said, straining as he pulled. “Let’s go.” Neal huffed as he pulled. His hand was slick against Billy’s sweating palm. Neal clenched both around Billy’s one as Billy continued to writhe and laugh, the tickles still enveloping his foot completely. Through his tears, Billy could still see small shadows floating about. Wings fluttered, tiny hands held up as fingers scribbled in the air. The taunting giggling came louder and louder. It feasted on his senses the way the fingers devoured the ticklish nerves all throughout his foot. Billy could feel a lightness forming in his mind. His temples pounded against the laughter leaving him breathless.

“SAAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAH!!!” OHHHH GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!” With what time left he had to act, Billy summoned what little strength he felt he could muster. He pulled Neal closer and closer to the edge of the feather circle. As Neal’s digging heels slid right up to the edge of the circle, Billy pulled as hard as he could while slamming his other hand down against Neal’s foot. He grabbed onto Neal’s wrist and pulled with every last ounce of strength he had.

“Wha-?” Neal gasped. He tripped forward, first stepping down into the feather circle to brace himself before the rest of him came tumbling forward.

With a swift and sure pull, Billy focused his strength more on toppling Neal over than his own escape. Pressing down on his friend’s foot, Billy found himself using Neal’s momentum and lack of balance to send him plummeting fully into the circle. He caught just the faintest paleness in Neal’s face as it passed over him. Neal’s voice shouted in brief confusion, among other noises masked by Billy’s own laughter. As the weight of Neal left Billy’s arm and the world around him, the residual inertia left Billy pulling himself free from the ring.

Billy panted. He scrambled away from the spot, over to a nearby tree stump where he sat with his knees pressed up into his chest. He looked around, but could see no trace of Neal anywhere, except the backpack that he had left sitting atop the stump when helping to free his friend. The previous moments flashed back to him quickly enough to play several times a second but slowly enough for him to seemingly remember every last detail; the last he believed that he could hear the sound of Neal’s voice giggling, a giggling that resonated into the laughter that howled through the woods. But Neal was gone, lost somewhere to a fate that Billy could only fathom with hollow, chilling dread.

Billy’s cheeks ran pale. His teeth chattered as his hands clenched onto his clothes. He could still feel the echoes of the tickles raging against his foot. He looked down to see it, his sneaker and sock completely missing, nothing at all like they had been just a moment prior. He examined his sole. Across his still tingling arch was the faint pinkish outline of a strange symbol. Billy gave the marking little consideration as he sprang to his feet once returning to his senses. The sun had all but fallen from the sky, leaving just enough light left to find his way out. In lieu of searching for Neal, knowing his fate well, Billy took off through the trees with his best estimation as to where his home would be. Focusing not on the application of his phone or the compass to help him find his way, the boy simply ran until he was back safely in his bed.

There was nothing that Billy could tell the investigators in the coming weeks that would convince them of the truth. Rumors began to spread over Neal’s disappearance. Discussions over the efficiency and competency of the investigative force ensued with righteous conviction. Their classmates went around town sharing missing posters where they could. Only Billy knew the truth. He said what he felt like he could, what people would understand, yet little came of the help he gave. Billy spent many days thinking back to what happened back in the woods. He hoped that Neal would simply turn up unharmed, but hoped harder that his mind would eventually move on from the ordeal.

But they would not allow that.

Every night after the first night home, the mark on his foot would give a resounding tingle, a remote ticklish sensation to remind him of the gift he provided the Gargalfae. Sometimes it was a little tease and other times it came as a massive assault on his ticklish senses. Sometimes it lasted only for a few seconds, other times, the entire night. When it came around, Billy found himself in the presence of a chorus of laughter. Most of it came from him, some echoed from the mischievous sprites that had tormented and tricked him, and sometimes it was Neal’s. Distant, howling echoes of forced, unresting mirth. Still the same age, year after year. Still laughing from the direction of the woods.