Red (9 page)

Come,
said the wolf.
Don't be afraid.

I
stood slowly, like a colt trying to stand for the first time on spindly legs, and marveled at the wild power I felt inside of me. The wolf's voice was clearer than before, powerful and resonant, but it was more than that. I could
feel
his presence. I sensed his emotions, his instincts and movements. I placed my hand in his fur, and we walked, side by side, each of us sensing the other. It was like learning how to walk all over again. I stumbled with the feelings and images that rushed through me, but little by little they became familiar, and I found my balance. We started to run, just a shy trot at first, and then faster and faster, until I was certain my heart would burst, except it didn't. It just got bigger and stronger.

We raced through the trees, chased patches of starlight, and bounded in the glow of the full moon. We breathed in the endless sky, and all of it swirled together so that I felt small and big and everything all at once. I was the whole world and the whole world was within me.

We raced up the mountainside until we were on a cliff high above the river.

Home,
he said, and I felt the familiar comfort of being at home. He led me around the cliffside to a cave opening. His den. I hesitated for just a moment, wondering if this was some kind of trap, but as the wolf moved, I felt myself pulled along by invisible strings, and my fears subsided.

I got down on my hands and knees to crawl through a tunnel until it opened up into a cavern. There was a small opening above that let in a sliver of moonlight. No one bigger than me could get in.

I half expected to find other wolves in the den, but it was empty. “Where is your pack?” I asked.

Gone.
I saw a series of images, a strong pack of wolves, fierce and loyal, but one by one they disappeared. Hunted by a shadowy presence. Soon there was only one.

“You're alone,” I said.

Wolf whined a little and pawed at the ground, and I felt an incredible sadness wash over me. Wolves were not meant to be alone. They thrived on the connection with their pack. Alone, this wolf was vulnerable and weak.

“How did they die?” I asked.

Monster,
said the wolf. He tried to show me a vision, but it was dark and blurry—whatever this monster was, Wolf was clearly still afraid of it.

I placed my hand over the wolf's paw again. I felt a pulsing of energy.

Red, Wolf. Wolf, Red.

“Wolf,” I said, as though I were pronouncing his name and destiny, like a newborn child's, which was silly. Animals don't have destinies like humans. Perhaps I was pronouncing it for myself—a part of my own destiny. “We are a pack now,” I told him.

Pack,
he said.

We left the den and stood on the edge of the cliff. Wolf tipped back his head and howled to the moon. I joined him, and our howls twined together like music, making the stars and moon tremble.

I hoped Granny could hear. She would recognize my voice, and it would make her feel alive, too.

I woke to an earth-shattering scream.

“Wolf! Run! There's a wolf!”

I sat up abruptly, and my head swam. Goldie was high-tailing it up a pine tree, babbling nonsensically about a wolf.

Wolf…

I brushed Wolf's paw and remembered last night, howling at the moon. I had slept with my head in the crook of his stomach. It was soft and very warm.

Wolf yawned, showing sharp fangs and a long pink tongue.

“Run!” Goldie screamed from the tree. “That wolf's about to eat you alive!”

Eat,
said the wolf, but I knew he wasn't thinking of me, nor Goldie. He had fish on his mind, or rabbits or mice, or even berries. Any of those would do.

“It's all right, Goldie,” I said. “He's not going to eat us.”

“How do you know?” she called back.

“Because he's my friend.”

“Only a witch would be friends with a wolf,” said Goldie.

“You're right,” I said. “I am a witch, but that doesn't make me evil.”

“Mummy says it does,” said Goldie.

“Have you ever considered that perhaps your mummy doesn't know everything? Now come down. I promise he won't hurt you.”

“I don't have to do what you tell me,” Goldie said.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “Do whatever you want. Good luck finding breakfast. I'm sure you can chew on pine needles and slurp some sap.” Goldie did not respond, nor did she come down from the tree. I was really starting to miss the old Goldie. This one was even grumpier than me! Also, her curls bounced less, and as much as they had annoyed me before, unbouncy curls are somewhat depressing. It almost made me want to try a cheering charm on her, but with my luck, she'd probably laugh herself to death. I'm sure I'd have a grand time trying to explain that to her mummy when she came searching.

I'm sorry, ma'am. Your daughter died of laughter. It's an infectious disease. I did everything I could.

Goldie would come down in her own sweet time, most likely when she smelled food. So I went in search of breakfast. Wolf padded alongside me. I placed my hands in the fur at his neck, marveling at our new connection, the energy pulsing through me, warm and wondrous. I wanted to run again, and Wolf, sensing my thoughts, immediately broke into a gallop.

We ran through the trees, in the morning mist, filling our lungs with cool air. Wolf saw a rise of hill, and images of wolves racing to the top rushed through me, so we raced to the top and then raced back down, and it was like being two creatures at once, or one creature in two places. We leapt over logs and drank in the fresh scent of pine and morning glory and…rabbit.

The smell slowed our steps, and we grew quiet, watching, listening. All my senses seemed heightened and right on the surface.

Something rustled in the brush just ahead of us. We circled it, Wolf on one side and me on the other. There was no need to speak. Wolf sent me an image of two wolves on opposite sides of a bush. One wolf pounced on the bush, and the other one caught the creature. I was to be the first wolf. That was the beauty of a pack. They worked together, seamlessly, cohesively. One.

I pounced on the bush.

The creature squeaked and hopped out the other side. Wolf leapt and caught a rabbit.

Breakfast.

On the way back to our camp, I gathered more berries.

I called up to Goldie in the pine tree, “We have breakfast!”

She didn't answer. Still ignoring me and afraid of Wolf. Perhaps if she smelled breakfast, she'd come down. I went to work gathering wood and leaves to start a fire. I snapped my fingers to perform the drying spell. Nothing happened at first, but then a few tendrils of smoke rose up from the leaves, and a flame burst forth. I blew on it and added more sticks and leaves until I had a good fire going. I found two forked branches to make a spit. Wolf brought me the rabbit, and with a sharp rock I managed to skin it and get it roasting over the fire. I dusted off my hands, feeling quite satisfied with a job well done.

“Goldie, you're going to starve if you don't eat something. Come down.”

Still no answer. Not even a sound. I moved closer to the tree. “Goldie?”

She wasn't there. I looked all around, by her bed of leaves, beneath the tree where I had slept, but saw no sign of her. Did she leave without me?

“Goldie?” I called. My heart was beating faster, panic rising in my chest. Horrible images of all the things that could happen to her raced through my mind. Bears. Mountain lions. Cliffs.

“Goldie!” I shouted.

Wolf brushed against my side, calming me.
Listen,
he said.

We held still and listened. I heard voices by the river. I hurried along the bank, straining to make out the words.

“Do you promise?” I heard Goldie say. I stepped through some heavy shrubs and found her. She was right at the edge of the bank, talking to someone.

“I promise,” said a deep, soothing voice. “Anything you want.”

My blood stopped cold in my veins. She was talking to a sprite. But she should know better….

No! She didn't know better. Her memories of our previous encounter with sprites had been erased by the wine. She had no idea!

I ran toward her. “Goldie!” I shouted. “Get away!” She turned to me and frowned, then turned back to the sprite.

“I just want Mummy to love me,” she said. “Can you make Mummy love me?”

“Yes, yes!” said the sprite, her words honey, molasses, and syrup. “All that you wish shall be yours. Come now!”

Goldie stepped into the water. She stretched her hand toward the sprite.

“Goldie, no! Don't touch her!” I shouted, but it was too late. Their fingers had touched. The sprite clasped Goldie in her webbed hands, and before Goldie could even utter a scream, she was dragged beneath the water.

The river rippled slightly and then flowed on like nothing had happened. The world was quiet, traitorously calm. Goldie had just been taken by a sprite! My mind raced for a rescue plan, but fear flooded all reason.

“Come with me,” said another sprite, reaching for me. “Don't be afraid. What do you wish for?”

“I want my friend back, you monster!” I grabbed some rocks and threw them at the sprite, but she easily dodged them. I could still see Goldie struggling amidst a swirl of translucent fins, going deeper and deeper.

Without a thought, I dove in after her. The icy water shocked me, and then I was surrounded by sprites. “Take my hand!” they sang. “Anything you wish…”

I took a breath and plunged deeper.

The sprites swirled around, reaching for me, but they couldn't touch me unless I touched them first.

“Come with us!” they chanted. “We will give you your heart's desire.”

Heart's desire, heart's desire, heart's desire.

Their words echoed like shouts in a cave, pummeling my ears, piercing my heart.

Granny. I wanted Granny to live.

No, focus, Red! I wanted Goldie. I grabbed a handful of her curls, and her captor reared and hissed, baring mossy teeth.

“Let go, she's mine!” The sprite thrashed and pulled Goldie deeper, taking me with her. I kicked and punched, and in all my flailing I touched the sprite's hand. She grinned malevolently and clamped her cold, webbed fingers around my wrist.

“Now you belong to us!” Their voices echoed in the water, seeping into me. They burrowed into the very depths of my soul.

We hit the bottom of the riverbed. My red cloak billowed around me like red wings. I wished I could fly away. The cloak brushed against my captor. She screamed and released me. Where the cloak had touched her, black blood seeped from her pale skin, clouding the water.

The sprite gnashed her green teeth. She still had Goldie. I pushed forward and thrashed my cloak at her other arm. She screamed again. The other sprites swirled around us, all hissing and shrieking, but they didn't dare come close. I gripped Goldie's curls in one hand and pushed off the bottom of the river toward the surface.

It was so far away. My lungs burned and sparks of white appeared in the corners of my eyes. I'd never make it. Goldie's weight was too much, and my cloak dragged behind me, further weighing me down. Of course. The very thing that had saved us would now bring about our demise.

Something swam toward me. I thought it was another sprite, but it was too dark—all except for the teeth, long white fangs in jaws stretched wide to catch me.

Wolf.

I reached for him, and he grabbed me by the cloak, pulling Goldie and me to the surface.

I gasped for air and held tight to Wolf until I felt earth beneath my feet. I dragged Goldie out of the water and collapsed next to her in the muddy grass. I took deep, ragged breaths, coughing up water, but Goldie didn't move. Her eyes were closed, her lips were blue, and her curls were limp and lifeless, plastered to her pale face.

“Goldie?” I shook her a little, but she still didn't move. “Goldie!” I shook her harder. I smacked her face. Still nothing.

Wolf nudged Goldie's shoulder and whined.
Drowning,
he said.

“But she's out of the water!” I said.

Wolf pushed his paw at her back.
Drowning. Inside. Drowning.
And Wolf showed me an image of water filling up a skin, dry on the outside, but wet on the inside.

I understood. Yes. Goldie's lungs were filled with water. I rolled her onto her side and walloped her on the back. Nothing happened.

More,
said Wolf.

So I hit her again. Harder this time, then harder again, until Goldie coughed and vomited muddy river water. I brushed back her wet curls as she gasped for air. She started to cry.

I let out the breath I'd been holding. “It's okay, Goldie. You're safe now.”

Goldie cried and coughed and breathed. When she sat up, I noticed a cut on her arm. She must have scraped it against a rock. I pressed my cloak over it to stop the bleeding while Goldie continued to cry until she caught her breath a little.

“I thought they'd fix things between Mummy and me,” she said. “They promised they could make her love me again.”

“That's what sprites do,” I said. “They lie to make you believe they can grant your heart's desire, and then they drag you down and feed on your wishes.”

“But they were so beautiful,” she said. “And their voices made me feel safe and warm.”

“Yes,” I said. “I guess that means beautiful and good are not the same.” I removed my cloak from Goldie's arm and inspected her cut. It wasn't too deep. It would heal quickly.

“Then how am I supposed to know who's good?” Goldie asked. “How can I trust anyone?”

How was I to answer such a question? It's true, you can't tell just by looking at someone. You can't always tell by talking to them. And sometimes even the things they do don't speak to their character, because you don't know
why
they're doing them.

“You can't really ever know,” I said. “I guess you have to take risks.”

“You saved me from the sprites,” said Goldie. “You could have died saving me, even when I was so mean to you before.”

“I was even meaner to you before that,” I said. “You just don't remember.”

“What did you do?” she said.

“I made you go away,” I said. “I wouldn't let you come with me, even though you just wanted to help.”

“Well, that's rude!” said Goldie. She sounded a little more like herself.

“It was,” I said, “but that didn't stop you from saving my life the very next day.” I lifted the sleeve off my arm and showed her the cut from the bear. “A bear nearly killed me when I tried to get some honey from a honey hive, but you saved me. You must have gotten fifty bee stings to save me.”

“Is that why you saved me from the sprite, because I saved you first?”

“I saved you for the same reason you saved me. Because we're friends. Even though you don't remember.”

Goldie placed her scratched arm next to mine. Two wounds from two friends saving each other.

“I should like to remember,” she said.

“Me too,” I said.

Goldie smiled shyly and then yelped as she noticed Wolf. He stood just a few feet away. I could feel his slight fear of Goldie. It made sense, I supposed. When people are afraid of you, it makes you afraid of them, and it's the fear that makes you both dangerous. I suddenly heard Granny's voice in my head.

Don't be afraid, Red.

“Don't be afraid,” I said. “Wolf saved us both. We might have drowned without his help.”

“Oh,” said Goldie, letting out her breath. “Well, then I suppose I ought to thank him, too.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you…um…Mr. Wolf.”

Wolf dipped his head in acknowledgment, and then he limped toward me, keeping one of his paws entirely off the ground.

“You're hurt!” I ran to Wolf and inspected him. I couldn't see a wound, but when I touched his leg, he growled a little, then whimpered. I winced as I felt a wave of pain rush through me. “I don't think it's broken,” I said. “Maybe just sprained.”

He wouldn't be much good for traveling today, and Goldie and I were soaking wet. Now that all the excitement had worn off, we started to shiver.

I looked around for the fire we had built and the rabbit that was surely roasted by now, only to realize that they were on the other side of the river. I could see the smoke from the fire, rising above the trees. We'd have to gather breakfast all over again, though Wolf wouldn't be going on any hunts.

“Let's build a fire,” I said. “We can hang our clothes from branches to dry.”

I built another fire near the place Wolf was resting. We took off our sopping clothes, down to our underthings, and hung them on a tree.

“I'm hungry,” said Goldie. “I wish we'd caught some fish while we were in the river.”

“We still can,” I said.

“What about the sprites?” Goldie said. “You can't go in the water!”

“I won't. I have an idea.”

Granny had a spell to make the fish jump right out of the water. I'd never tried it before. I always worried I would give myself fins or get swallowed by a fish, but I was feeling bold for the moment. I ran with wolves. I'd just escaped sprites! I could certainly catch a little fish.

I walked to the bank, not too close, but just enough to see a few fish dart by.

Fishing Spell

Come, little fish

Jump on my dish

Swim to shore

Jump and soar

Come, let us meet

And then I will eat

A fish suddenly shot up out of the water. “I got one!” I started to shout, but I only got out “I got!” before the fish plunged right into my mouth, all too eager to become my breakfast. I yanked out the fish and spat and sputtered.

Goldie keeled over laughing, until another fish shot out of the water and landed on her head, slapping and spraying her with wet fins. “Oh! Ew! Gross! Get it off me!”

“Catch it, Goldie!” I shouted.

The fish fell to the ground, and Goldie pounced on it like a kitten. “I got it! Ooh, gross, these things are slimy!” The fish flopped and slipped from her hands. Meanwhile, two more fish had soared from the river and rained down on the bank. At the end of it all, we had six fish. A feast! Provided by magic that didn't cause anything to break or catch fire.

We huddled by the fire and told stories as we gobbled up the fish. Goldie told a story about three pigs and a wolf that blew down all their houses, except for the one made of bricks. Wolf found this story quite amusing. He thought the wolf was the hero of the tale.

Pigs are delicious,
he said.

“I know,” I said. “You've been eating Granny's, just like the wolf in the story.”

No,
said Wolf.

“It's all right, I don't blame you,” I said. “We eat them, too.”

No pigs,
said Wolf, and I realized he was trying to tell me that he had not eaten Granny's pigs.

“But they're gone,” I said, “and you're always near Granny's house.”

No pigs,
Wolf insisted, and he tried to send me an image of something to help explain, but it was hazy and difficult to make out. It didn't matter. They were only pigs. We would have turned them into bacon and ham eventually, so it seemed unfair to begrudge a wild beast his own bacon and ham. As long as the beasts didn't come to eat us, there was no reason to worry.

Wolf, exhausted from his rescue and injury, curled up and fell asleep. I went to see if our clothes were dry, and a movement across the river caught my eye. I shielded my eyes from the sun, and the blood drained from my face. Horst the huntsman was walking slowly through the trees, carefully tracking Wolf's paw prints, with his bow at the ready. He tracked the prints right up to the edge of the bank and then gazed across the river.

I ducked quickly out of sight. I tried not to panic. I didn't think Horst had seen me. He was farther upstream, and anyway, he was on the other side of the river. He had no way of coming over here unless he wanted to swim, which he wouldn't do if he knew anything about sprites.

But none of that stopped Horst. He stood behind a tall tree near the bank and, with one great heave, pushed it over. The tree groaned and fell straight across the river with a crash, creating a bridge over the water.

My jaw dropped. I never would have guessed Horst had the strength for such a thing. Clearly I had underestimated him. Was Wolf in more danger than I'd thought? He most certainly was at the moment.

Horst stepped onto the fallen log and slowly, yet determinedly, started walking across the river.