Trixter (The Trix Adventures)

Trixter (The Trix Adventures)

Trix Woodcutter is the long prophesied Boy Who Talks to Animals. He’s also a foundling prankster scamp who places his family under a sleeping spell so that he can run away from home. Compelled by a vision of his dead birthmother, Trix departs on the eve of a Great Catastrophe, only to find himself caught in the maelstrom. Armed with little more than his wits and the wisdom inherent in all fey-blooded youth, Trix confronts a legendary Animal King, faces off against a ghostly feline, rescues a damsel in distress, and discovers more about himself than he ever wished to know. And this adventure is only the beginning... "A veritable badass fairy princess." --Jim Butcher "Alethea Kontis IS fairy tales." --Jim C. Hines, author of Libriomancer "Alethea Kontis: Awesome, racks up award nominations, wears tiaras." --Ferrett Steinmetz, author of Flex "I want to live in [Alethea's] head because I think that might be the most interesting place in the world!!!!" --Ellen Oh, author of Prophecy "Alethea Kontis, the woman who writes like Shakespeare would if he were alive today." --Aaron Pound "The beauty of a princess, the confidence of a queen, the brilliance ofawriter, and the demeanor of a cheerful fairy comedian!" --Cheyenne Z. "This was the story before all of the other stories, and it was the othertales that were changed over time." --Nerdophiles, on Enchanted "Trix's adventures started back in 2012--the fall after Enchanted 's release. I had just turned in the first draft of Hero and was playing around with Trixter in the "free time" I had while I awaited that first painful round of revisions. Per my editor's request, the character of Trix had been almost completely written out of the novel. Not a small feat, when one considers that the whole impetus for Saturday's journey was chasing after Trix when he ran away from home... I had an inkling of all the trouble Trix got himself into while Saturday was imprisoned in the White Mountains, but how was I supposed to tell that story? The Woodcutter Sisters books were meant to be just that: one book about each sister, leaving no room for Trix. But...we love Trix! In 2014, two fortuitous things happened: Harcourt decided not to extend a contract for more Woodcutter Sisters books, and my best friend Casey read that partial draft of Trixter . The moment the publisher declined our pitch for books 4-7, I was released from my"option clause," meaning that I now had the freedom to do whatever I wanted with the series (including MAKING THE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS AS LONG AS I WANT). This is the point where most writers would give up on a world they've spent a lifetime creating and move onto other things. Luckily for Woodcutter fans, I am not like most writers." --from ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The Boy Who Talks to Animals Trix Woodcutter ignored the twinges in his belly and the ache in his heart as he raced across the meadow. It hadn't been the most graceful of escapes. If he'd had more time to plan, he would have arranged to meet a deer-friend or one of the lynx outside the towerhouse so that he might have covered more ground before the dark magic brew in his system took effect. A deer might have been the better choice as he was (finally) getting too tall to ride a lynx comfortably. If he'd really been clever, then-- PAIN. Trix gasped. Winced. Doubled over. Cramps stabbed through his middle like knives and he cried out despite himself. He'd had bad porridge before, but this was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. His hands balled into fists and instinctively tried to reach for the tiny army with pointy swords fighting a battle to the death inside him so that he could make it all stop. He tripped. Rolled. Paused, waiting for the-- --PAIN-- --to pass so that he could keep moving. He took a deep breath. The razor sharp flashes of anger inside him subsided enough to let him back up. He shuffled, walked, ran--PAIN--shuffled, jogged, all while trying to think about something besides the incredibly stupid decision he'd just made. It would have been impossible to successfully bespell his family without bespelling himself, even just a little. It was all Mama's fault; Mama, with those eagle eyes of hers that saw everything and the silver tongue that could make the devil do her bidding. Being raised by a woman whose every statement came true had taught him to always seek forgiveness instead of permission. His quest was too important this time. One "no" from Mama's lips would have stopped Trix from leaving the house entirely. So he had put her to sleep--put them all to sleep--to avoid her saying anything at all. Eagles. The cleverest thing to do would have been to call the eagles and really fly, though they would have disapproved of him betraying his family. Eagles were all about loyalty. An eagle would never have crossed his congregation. Trix wasn't particularly proud of himself either, at the moment. He deserved whatever horrible pain he was in. He cried out and