The next step would take them off the brick. But the fairies now fit into the palms of their hands.

Another couple of steps and they'd be film size.

They took the steps. Ceese's fingers were so big he could hardly get the lid off. And now the birds were snatching and pecking at him. Landing on his shoulders. They were small but their pecks were sharp and hard. They hurt like horsefly bites.

"I can't do this," said Ceese.

Mack looked up at him. He had the lid off his film canister, and Yolanda was crawling into it.

At that moment, a bird swooped and snatched the lid to Mack's film canister right off his palm.

"Shit!" shouted Mack.

Without even thinking, Ceese swatted the bird that had stolen the lid and knocked it to the forest floor.

Mack dove for it, found it, and put it on the canister. Then he put the canister inside his front jeans pocket. Then he reached for Ceese's film canister and got it open. All the while, Puck was yelling something, but his voice was so little and high that Ceese could hardly hear him. No wonder Puck had had to crawl closer to the house and get larger before Mack could hear him, that time when he got so badly injured.

Mack handed Ceese the canister and Puck leapt in. Again, Mack had to fasten the lid because Ceese's fingers were simply too big. Like an elephant trying to pick up a dime.

"I hate being this big," said Ceese.

"Then let's get under the trees."

It was such a good idea. Except for the part about Ceese being so tall that he wasn't under anything. He had to breast his way through the trees like he was trying to force his way against a river current. And he couldn't see the path at all.

Mack was yelling at him. Ceese bent over, pushing branches out of the way as he did.

"You're off the path!" Mack yelled.

"I can't see the path," said Ceese. "But I can see the sky."

"Great, I need a weather report, I'll give you a call. Look, Ceese, there's no way to do this unless you get down to my level. Stay under the trees."

"I'm supposed to crawl the whole way?"

Mack shrugged. "I can't help it."

Ceese saw that there was no choice. But it hurt his knees. The tree trunks were also close together, so that Ceese was constantly banging his shoulders. Not to mention breaking low-hanging branches with his head.

"I'm going to have such a headache," said Ceese.

He noticed that, along with the birds nipping at his ears and the back of his neck, there were squirrels and other creatures running over his hands and up his sleeves. "What do they think they are, ants?"

"Commandos," said Mack. "Think: fire ants."

"Squirrels aren't poisonous."

"They've got teeth and jaws so strong they can crack nuts."

"Aw no," said Ceese. "Please tell me that bastard won't make them go for my package."

"Must be a huge target," said Mack helpfully. "Easy to find."

Sure enough, just like fire ants, they went straight for his scrotum. Ceese pulled at the crotch of his pants and tried to pinch the creatures without mashing his own testicles.

"Ceese," said Mack, "if you stop every time some creature bites you, we'll never get there."

"I don't notice them biting you."

"They won't fit up my sleeve or into my pants," said Mack.

"That, too," said Mack.

It was slow going—crawling, bumping into trees, scraping through branches, brushing away birds, plucking at squirrels. Ceese was bleeding from hundreds of pecks and bites and he was desperate to fling his clothes off and put Neosporin—or anything, rubbing alcohol—on the sores inside his clothes. "I always hated squirrels," said Ceese. "Now I know why."

"You think they like hanging around in your crotch?"

"Why not?" said Ceese. "Nobody's biting them."

Mack held up a hand. "Stop."

Ceese stopped. He saw Mack simply disappear.

Then he looked closer and realized that they were at the edge of a chasm. There was a fast-moving river at the bottom, and Mack had swung down a little way, clinging to a complicated root system.

Ceese saw the other side and it didn't look so far off. He extended his huge arm to reach for the opposite bank. But inexplicably he couldn't quite touch it. It was as if it kept retreating just enough to be a half-inch out of reach.

"I can't bridge it," said Ceese.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," said Mack. "I think it's part of the protection of the place.

You can't cross over the chasm, you have to get down to the river's edge."

Ceese crept along the edge. "All right, I'll climb down over here so I don't accidently kill you by brushing you off the wall of the canyon."

Ceese swung a leg down over the edge.

"Stop!" screamed Mack.

"Just a second," said Ceese, meaning to drop down to the bottom before he stopped.

"Stop now! Get your leg back up! Now!"

Ceese stopped. But he still felt an overwhelming desire to jump down.

The same kind of desire he felt that day Yolanda tried to get him to throw baby Mack over the stair rail. So maybe it was an impulse he ought to ignore.

Ceese pulled up his leg.

Mack ran over to him. "Your leg was shrinking. As soon as it went over the side, it was getting down to normal size. What if you aren't big when you go down there?"

Mack pulled the film canister out of his pants pocket and held it up by his ear. "What should we do?"

Ceese didn't bother getting Puck out of his pocket. It was Yolanda in charge of this expedition.

"She says she has no idea what happens, she's never been here before. But maybe it's time to let them out."

Ceese pulled the canister out of his pocket. It was easier to get the top off without Mack's help.

Ceese saw Puck stick his head out. He was drenched with sweat, panting. "I want air-conditioning before I go back in there."

"Watch out for birds," said Ceese.

"Not so many around here," said Puck.

"Only takes one."

"At this point I don't care. It can't be any worse inside a bird's gut."

Ceese saw that Mack was perching Yolanda inside the collar of his shirt. A killer squirrel leapt for the spot. Mack dodged and the squirrel plunged over the side. Ceese had never heard a squirrel scream before. Now he knew why Wile E. Coyote never made a sound in the Road Runner cartoons. An animal screaming all the way down a cliff was a chilling sound.

"No way in hell I'm getting inside your collar!" shouted Puck.

"Where then?"

"Your jacket pocket."

"What if you get big real fast?" said Ceese. "I don't want to have to replace this jacket, it's real leather."

"Now it's mesh," said Puck.

Sure enough, the birds and squirrels and who knew what other creatures had pecked and torn holes all over the leather. Tiny ones, but holes all the same. Ceese realized his neck must look like that, too.

Mack called out. "Yo Yo says to go slow, and hold on to vines and roots the whole way. Plants don't obey Oberon the way animals do. Especially trees. Very stubborn. They won't let go of us."

Then he added, "Nobody ever called a tree a pushover."

"Maybe it's turning over a new leaf," said Ceese.

a child getting a piggyback ride.

"That shirt's going to rip, you get any bigger," said Ceese helpfully.

Puck was out of his pocket now, holding on to his shoulders. And by the time they reached the bottom, Puck was as heavy as the slightly overweight older man that he was, while Ceese was just a normal-sized LAPD cop.

Also, Puck and Yolanda were stark naked.

"Our clothes didn't grow back to normal size," Puck explained. "Oberon's sense of humor."

"But my clothes shrank back to normal size with me," said Ceese.

"No way did Oberon make up this place in the split second when he realized we were imprisoning him," said Yolanda. "Not with all these complicated traps. He was already plotting this. I think we got him just in time."