Pembrick’s Creaturepedia

Description

Now with all-new illustrations, this detailed companion is essential to all who travel to the lands of Skree, and a must-have for fans of the Wingfeather Saga, with more than one million copies sold!

“A fun, funny, wildly inventive adjunct to a well-beloved fantasy series—perfect for fans and newcomers alike.”—The Children’s Book Review

Sketcher, adventurer, disguiser, and sneaker Ollister B. Pembrick roamed all of Skree with a sketchbook and pen, searching behind every tree stump and under every stone, in every river and on every hill, to discover and document the endless living wonders of the Maker’s world. He risked life and limb—quite literally—to compile sketches and details of the creatures of Skree, usually from the cover of a hollow log, a hedge, or a pile of leaves.

Refer to this carefully documented Creaturepedia before traversing through the Stony Mountains or harvesting fartichokes within a fortnight after a sandstorm. The drawings and field notes about squeeblins, toothy cows, oiples, and more will surely save any explorer’s life and will definitely keep them—and their appendages—from being gobbled. Tread carefully, young adventurer. The creatures within are not to be trifled with.

Can’t get enough of Aerwiar? Collect the whole set!
ON THE EDGE OF THE DARK SEA OF DARKNESS • NORTH! OR BE EATEN • THE MONSTER IN THE HOLLOWS • THE WARDEN AND THE WOLF KING • WINGFEATHER TALES • PEMBRICK’S CREATUREPEDIA • A RANGER’S GUIDE TO GLIPWOOD FOREST“Pembrick’s Creaturepedia is a fun, funny, wildly inventive adjunct to a well-beloved fantasy series—perfect for fans and newcomers alike.”—The Children’s Book ReviewAndrew Peterson is the bestselling author of the Wingfeather Saga, a singer/songwriter, and the founder of The Rabbit Room, which fosters community through story, art, and music. He and his wife, Jamie, live in Nashville.

Aedan Peterson is a professional illustrator and animator in Nashville. He’s also a member of the alt-rock band Wake Low, which has exactly zero songs about squeeblins.Introduction

Since the Second Epoch, the creatures of Aerwiar have grown more and more corrupt, more and more dangerous, and (I would argue) more and more beautiful. I believe all three are true, sometimes regarding the same wild beast! A case in point: the squeeblin. And not just any squeeblin, but the various species of squeeblins—from the fuzzy squeeblin of the lower Stony Mountains to the softish squeeblin of Plontst, to the verbose squeeblin of the Linnard Woodlands. Each type of this curious curiosity is wonderful to espy, whether it be yellow, speckled, or chartreuse (very rare!), glorying in the moon’s rays! But let the espying soul beware! The serene squeeblish countenance belies its deadly flesh-hooks and its insolent heart. It is corrupt. It is dangerous. And yet, it is undeniably pulchritudinous of aspect! Such, alas, are many of the Maker’s makings scattered across the lands of Aerwiar.

My uncle, a greengrocer of the Shining Isle (a man I shall refer to here as The Gobbled, or, more plainly, Uncle Bahb) met a grisly end one day on a vegetationary expedition to the Woes of Shreve, where he happened upon a stand of fartichoke plants (delicious! aromatic!) and was beset most misfortunately by a nesting blazzrod. How long might The Gobbled have lived had he only known never to harvest fartichokes during the Fifthmoon a mere fortnight after a sandstorm! He would no doubt be a grocer still. As it is, he is merely grosser, if you will, as he decomposes in the bellies of the blazzrod hatchlings. The Gobbled’s death demanded my dedication to the work that you now hold in your ungobbled hands.

How many lives might be saved by this humble submission to the bestiaries of the age, I cannot say. I can say, however, that no owner of this Creaturepedia can lay blame on anyone but himself if he should, in flippant disregard of the warnings herein, harvest fartichokes after a sandstorm at the wrong time of year. His last thoughts may be, Alas! I should have hearkened to Ollister Bahbert Pembrick!

And so, reader, should you.

Hearken, that is.

To me.

I have traveled extensively these many years, at great personal cost—for certain of my own parts have been gobbled. Such is the price of exploration, of discovery, of cataloguing the creepers and crawlers and squatters and chewers and gnawers and hatchers and lickers and gazers and sneakers and squeakers and lopers and leapers and lie-in-waiters and human-haters and spitters and flappers and lurkers and leakers and sneakers (Yes! “Sneakers” again, for they abound!) and grinders and finders and draggers and blinders and clenchers and binders and winders (of tail) and wrenchers (of innards) and munchers and grinners and flexers and scrapers, and did I mention sneakers?
Count yourself fortunate to have happened upon this volume. Count yourself fortunate that you did not happen upon the remains of Uncle Bahb that day in the Woes of Shreve. Count yourself membered and not dismembered, remembered and not regurgitated. With this Creaturepedia close at hand, you may walk the world of Aerwiar calm and/or composed, rather than embalmed and/or decomposing.

Have a nice day.

—Ollister Bahbert Pembrick, esq., the partly maimed, master of disguisery, president of the Occasional Greengrocers’ Alliance of Pennybridge, Isle of AnnieraUS

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