When Nathaniel walked through the Iron Gate, he saw Tick and Tock in the distance, gesturing with their arms. They still seemed to be counting, working on converting snowflakes into seconds. "Let's see if I can really throw a wrench into their clockematics this time," he smirked. "That's what they get for making fun of PaPa's new word!"

  As he approached, he listened to the astronomical numbers they were calculating and converting. They just went on and on, paying no attention to him as he stood there listening. Finally, Tock held up a finger to his brother and pronounced to Nathaniel, "Do you know how many snowflakes we've counted?"

  "A total of 27,313, brother," Tick said.

  "Yes, that's right, and once you consider that's 27,313 just right here, we'll have to step to the next vantage point and then we will be able to combine the two…"

  Before they could descend too far into the new discussion, Nathaniel bowed slightly and handed Tick the wrench, the largest pipe wrench he could find. Then he dropped his real bomb on them: "So, how do you guys convert footprints in the snow after you've made all your calculations?"

  The McReady's looked up and saw the long line of Nathaniel's footprints in the snow, leading straight back to the courtyard. Looking alarmed, they scratched their heads and stared at each other, absolutely dumbfounded.

  "Also, when the snow falls on your face and hits your freckles, do you guys multiply them by the number of freckles you have, or just by two, since there are two of you? Just curious, that's all. I'm going exploring — I'll see you guys later."

  They frowned at the frost falling on their freckle-filled faces, and for the first time in a fortnight of forging figures forgot what figure they were on. They clapped their hands on the tops of their heads and Tock wailed, "A big wrench for sure! That really does mess things up!"

  "Must we curse the day we met Mr. Nine Letters?" Tick cried. "Kind of reminds me of you-know-who."

  "Yeah, me too, but he has seven letters and then another seven letters."

  "But if you count the number of letters in all the books he watches over…"

  "If we could ever pry his hands away from those books…"

  "The letters…"

  "Yes, the number of letters…"

  Nathaniel was finished. "You'd better pray that a rabbit or squirrel doesn't come running by to add some more footprints, or worse," Nathaniel called as he walked away. "Convert that!"

  It wasn't long before he was back in the woodland clearing where he'd met the McReady's earlier that morning. He was delighted to see the little redbird hopping along in the grass at the east edge of the field, just inside the tree line, hunting for seeds or worms or whatever little redbirds ate. They made eye contact and stared at each other for a good while before the bird seemed to shrug, taking off into the woods.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Nathaniel immediately ran after it. The field soon disappeared behind him, and the little animal trail he was running on was the only open space in the now dense woods. The bird flew ahead of him, quickly passing out of sight. Before long the forest thinned out, and the occasional huge, rounded boulders that had been scattered through it began to appear closer and closer to each other — surely nothing that Nathaniel had ever drawn. In no time, the forest was behind him, and the rounded boulders gave way to large, jagged rocks thrusting up from the soil. The redbird became visible again, flying high up and far ahead of him, completely out of reach.

  Nathaniel gave up the chase. "Dang, how far does this place go?" he wondered. The redbird in the distance gave him the sense that his Masterpiece was even larger than he'd conceived, but he'd never drawn this landscape, unless this was just an extension of his imagination.

  He looked down at his watch and saw that it had only been about fifteen minutes since he'd entered the Masterpiece. "That's weird," he murmured. "It feels like I've been gone for at least an hour." He tapped the watch a few times, and brought it up to his ear. He could faintly hear the second hand ticking. "Hmmm."

  He continued walking through the jagged rocks and found himself on a pathway covered with fine rubble and leaves. Everywhere he saw boulders of all types, interspersed with trees of varying species, including some types he didn't recognize. As he walked along, the pathway opened up and became larger and larger, almost like a road, and the rubble consolidated almost into a pavement. The forest encroached on the boulder field, so that a morass of black and gray jagged rocks lay to his right, with the tree line on his left.

  In the middle of the jagged rocks stood an odd-looking dead tree, seeming very out of place; it stood there like a limp marionette, arms dangling, strings cut. The courtyard was miles behind him now, almost in a different world; and maybe it was, because the air was warm here, just like in the field where he'd met the McReady's.

  That confused him, because not long before it had been cold and snowing, just as it always was in his Masterpiece. In fact, it had been pretty warm just about everywhere he'd traveled beyond the tree line of his drawing.

  Nathaniel took off his backpack and jacket, took out the water and the apple he'd packed yesterday, and leaned against the edge of a vertical rock. He surveyed the landscape while he ate. I don't know what this place is, he thought. I still must be in my drawing, but I have no idea where. He didn't know if it was beautiful, or terrible, or terribly beautiful. It seemed very strange, almost ageless. "I think I went east, and that would mean that that's north — and that's south, where my courtyard is. If I'm not mistaken, I could probably get there in about half an hour if I hustle, so I'm still good."

  When he finished his apple, he took out his Pen and a small sketchpad, and sat down on the path. This would be a cool picture, he thought. He put the Pen to the paper, but every time he tried to draw something, the Pen would bleed ink, ruining the image. He tried another page — same thing — then another and another. "Well, this is useless."

  As he was putting away his art supplies, he heard a sound in the distance — and oddly, the loose rocks on the pathway began to vibrate. As the rumble drew nearer, it reminded him of the sound of a stampede he'd seen on TV. Alarmed, he jumped up; he'd been sitting in the middle of the path, and he didn't want to get run over if indeed it was a stampede. Nathaniel swung his backpack up on his shoulder and headed toward the jagged rocks for safety.

  The moment he set foot off the path, a small herd of large deer-like creatures with huge, spreading antlers ran past him. They looked like the caribou he'd seen on a National Geographic special, but he'd never seen any in real life before — though actually, he wondered if this counted as real life. He watched as they stampeded past him and up into the forest he'd just come from. Everything went quiet after that.