The Tree Shepherd's Daughter (22 page)

How could she explain that cat? Every day Keelie spent
at the Faire, her sense of what was real and what wasn't
blurred. How did she explain seeing a woman's face in the
oak log, if it wasn't a weird allergy-induced vision? How
did Keelie logically explain the knowledge about trees that
kept bubbling up out of who knew where? The sooner
she got out of La-La Land, the better for her. No wonder
Mom had taken Keelie from Dad's world all those years
ago.

Ariel inched down the arm guard toward Keelie's
face and nestled her head against her cheek. Keelie froze.
Hawks were not kittens. Was this a gesture of friendship
and trust, or was Ariel about to rip her face off?

The hawk's head was hot and hard, yet its covering
of feathers was incredibly soft. She made no move to attack, and Keelie could feel that part of her that Ariel had
switched on grow larger and larger, making her feel good
despite the freaky morning.

Cameron's voice interrupted the moment.

"Keelie, thank goodness you're here," she said, her tone
panicked. "I need your help." Cameron was so frantic that
she didn't notice the hawk nestled against Keelie's cheek.

"Sure. What is it?" Keelie stood slowly, so as not to
scare Ariel. Cameron's forehead was creased with worry,
and she was dressed in regular clothes, too-a gray sweatshirt, blue jeans, and Nike tennis shoes. She looked totally
normal. Keelie needed normal.

"Moon's been sick all day, and I know that what I'm
about to ask you is going to be strange, but I need for you
to do it. No questions asked."

Keelie felt her heart sink. For a second, she thought
Cameron would ask her to kill the bird, to end its suffering. But no. Cameron would do that herself, when the
time came. She loved Moon, the snowy owl. It had to be
something else, and Keelie knew that she'd do anything to
help Moon. "Sure."

"Follow me."

"Wait a minute." Zeke stepped in front of Cameron.
"She can't do this, Cameron. She's not ready."

"It has to be her." Cameron looked around, then lowered her voice. "I know you've heard, too. Moon is in the
meadow, at the tallest aspen, Hrok. The Red Cap can't
touch her there."

The meadow, land of bad feelings. "What do I have
to do? Why me?" Keelie tried to catch Cameron's eye, but
she was staring at Zeke, as if willing him to approve.

Zeke seemed stunned, but finally, he nodded and
stepped aside. "I'll keep the area safe."

"Wait a minute. I need an answer. Remember me?
Keelie? The person you're talking about?"

Ariel seemed to sense their mood. The hawk flew from
Keelie's arm back to her perch without anyone telling her
to do so. Cameron shut the cage door, then turned to
Keelie. "I'll tell you on the way to the meadow. We don't
have any time."

The three of them hurried through the odd yellow stillness. Keelie was still wearing the heavy leather gauntlet.

They passed the children's area. The maypole and pony
ring looked strange and empty. Within sight of Mrs. Butters's teahouse, they turned left, through a gate marked
"Employees Only," and went up Water Sprite Lane toward
the meadow.

As they went through the gate she heard drumming.
The Shire was close by, and the party was starting without
her.

They passed a stand of trees, and the meadow was on
their right. It looked wide and friendly in the gloomy daylight, with a thicket of aspens on the far side and other
hardwoods here and there. A huge rock was in the center.

Keelie could see the glint of stone through the far trees.
Elianard's camp. Despite its friendly appearance, Keelie
knew the place was dangerous. She could feel the sense of
panic building as she approached and a strange vibration
from the Earth in the center of the meadow.

From the tree where her cage hung, Moon hooted and
fluttered her wings, banging them against the wire walls.

Cameron clucked soothingly as they approached. Zeke
eyed the woods warily, and Keelie fought to just keep one foot in front of the other when what she wanted to do was
run to the Shire and hide in a tent.

The aspen trees seemed old, and she could sense them,
stern spirits, like guardians in a sacred place. The largest
one's upper branches were scorched, a scaly black that
looked like a vivid wound against the green of its leafy
neighbors.

Even from the edge of the meadow, Keelie could tell
the owl was sick. Normally, Moon sat tall on her perch,
eyes alert. Exhausted from her exertions, she sat listless,
her white feathers dull and drooping, her enormous eyes
closed. She didn't move, even with the noise of their approach.

Whatever was wrong with her was probably beyond
the help of any home remedy. "Don't you think we might
need to call a vet?"

"I am a vet. Modern medicine isn't going to help her,"
Cameron said firmly. "Early this morning music woke me,
and the birds were going crazy, making a racket. When I
went out to see who was playing the music that disturbed
the birds, I saw immediately that something was wrong
with Moon."

"So some nut played music, then hurt Moon? Do you
think she was poisoned?" Keelie knew something deeper
was going on, but she didn't want to go near those creepy
trees.

Cameron looked puzzled, then alarmed. "Zeke, I
thought you talked to her. Keelie, do you mean you don't
understand your role here?"

"Those fairy tales about Red Caps and farewells to trees?" Even though Keelie didn't admit it, she couldn't
deny that she had an uncommon kinship with trees and
wood, and that she had seen some pretty strange things.

"Keelie, I need the healing energy of the aspen tree
channeled to Moon. Your father can't heal animals, but I
sense that you can. It might not work, but she doesn't have
much time." Cameron touched the owl's feathers.

Zeke looked at her. "I'll be here to help you."

"What's with you people and trees?" Keelie stared at
them.

The part of her that belonged to her mother said, "Run,
Keelie! Don't do it-you're turning into one of them." But
the part that Ariel had awakened beckoned her to stretch
out and touch the aspen. She did not want to touch that
tree, remembering the suffocating sadness brought on by
the oak in the workshop.

There were tears in Cameron's eyes. "Please, Keelie.
Moon means the world to me. I know you can help her.
Can you imagine not helping Ariel?"

"It's not that, Cameron. I don't have any kind of power.
You're talking about magic, not medicine." And the trees.
Keelie shivered. Something was underneath. Something
bad. What did that mean?

"You've got that magic, Keelie," Cameron said.

Keelie thought of Ariel, of the hawk's bony head against
hers. Ariel trusted her. She thought of her mother, who
always said medicine was overrated and that she didn't believe in anything but the law.

Keelie would've defied Mom to save Ariel. To save Moon, she would have to defy Mom's memory, her beliefs.
Or disbeliefs.

She wouldn't let Moon die, even if it meant opening
herself up to that tree creepiness, that bad feeling from underground.

"Okay, what do I need to do? I'm only trying it, Cameron. No promises. But I'm willing to try for you and
Moon."

Zeke put his hand on her shoulder. "Good girl. I'll
keep watch. Nothing and no one will approach."

Tears spilled from the woman's eyes. "Thank you,
Keelie."

Cameron removed Moon from the birdcage. The owl
slowly opened her eyes. Keelie couldn't see any wounds,
but she sensed a purpose around the owl, like an invisible blanket of mean intent surrounding her. Whoever had
harmed her had done so maliciously.

Cameron placed her on Keelie's arm. Moon's clawed
feet pressed against the stiff leather covering her arm, and
Keelie put her other hand up to balance the light bird.
Moon leaned into Keelie's hand, and she drew her arm toward her chest so that the bird could lean into her bodyeven though she was wary of the wickedly sharp beak
so close to her skin. Ariel trusted Keelie, but she hadn't
handled Moon before. Maybe a sick bird, like a sick dog,
might lash out in fear.

Keelie swallowed hard. "Okay. What next?"

"You'll need to touch that aspen and let the energy
from the tree flow through you to Moon." Cameron
pointed at the tree, then stood back.

Touch the tree? Keelie shivered. On the other side of
the meadow, the drumming had intensified, punctuated
now with excited yells and ululating calls. The dancing
had begun.

The tree looked healthy and green, a living version of
the broken log in her father's shop. She walked up to the
aspen, hands shaking, then jumped back when she saw the
face of a young man looking out at her from the bark.
This was no allergy.

"Please, Keelie," Cameron said behind her.

Keelie shut her eyes to block the weird hallucination
and placed her free hand on the tree. Warmth spread from
the rough bark to her fingers, then up her arm. Through
her closed eyes, the movement seemed green, like living
sap. She wasn't scared any more. It was okay. Or at least, it
didn't hurt.

What do you seek, Tree Shepherd's daughter?

Keelie opened her eyes. The tree had spoken to her in
her mind. His words seemed green, too, and parts of them
sprouted, taking root in her mind.

Moon gave a weak hoot. Time was running out for
the owl. Keelie closed her eyes and pressed her hand more
firmly against the bark. It was time for her to trust, too.

She pictured herself opening the locked box where
she kept her feelings. The box opened, revealing the dark
emptiness inside.

If you can heal this owl, please. She needs your help, she
thought. I don't know what to do.

Tree Shepherd's daughter, you answered my call when fire
struck from the clouds. My power is yours to wield. The green light that had crept up her arm now flowed from the tree,
through Keelie, filling the box in her mind. She pushed it
into and around the sick owl.

Keelie formed an image of a healthy Moon and held
it in her mind. As the aspen's skin-tingling energy flowed
into her, Keelie kept the image of the green light dissolving the darkness that infected the bird.

She stood still, holding the owl in the aspen's healing
magic, until she felt weak and her knees grew rubbery. She
locked her right knee and leaned against the tree, and the
contact opened the power between them even more.

After a few minutes, Keelie slumped to the ground.
Moon's lightweight body had become a leaden burden.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She couldn't hold her any
more.

She felt a final green caress from the tree and a faraway
whisper, Tree Shepherd's daughter, then heard Cameron say,
"You did it, Keelie. You've saved her."

Keelie opened her eyes and she saw Cameron cradling
the snowy owl against her chest. Exhaustion filled Keelie's
body, but happiness, too. She'd saved Moon with the tree's
help.

Zeke leaned down, his face looming in front of her.
"Are you all right?"

She nodded, then put one hand behind her to caress
the bark. "Thank you," she whispered.

You are a friend to trees, the voice whispered back.

A buzzing filled her ears, as if a mosquito was flying
too close. She'd heard the sound before, when it chased
Knot.

She turned her head to follow the noise and saw an insect clinging to the aspen's smooth bark. It turned bright,
intelligent eyes to her and extended its wings.

Keelie kept her eyes on it, not trusting that it would go
away if she closed them. Too much had happened, and she
couldn't disbelieve anymore.

"Keelie, don't." Her father's tone seemed urgent.

"Are you a fairy?" She moved her face closer to the oversized bug, and it skittered back a little. She held out her
hand, and it moved closer and put a leg onto her finger.

Then it backed up, and a fine spray hit her face. The
particles seemed to come alive. In moments they had
flown right into her eyes, seeming to pick up speed the
closer they got.

Keelie heard herself cough, and then everything went
black.

If this was what a hangover felt like, then she was never,
ever going to touch alcohol, Keelie thought miserably.
Her head pounded in time with her heartbeat. She pulled
the covers higher on her chest, then grimaced at the loud
sound the sheets made as they rubbed on her skin.

Raven held up a green dress with about a billion yards
of fabric in the trailing sleeves. "How about this one?"

Ribbons of green flowed straight up from the dress.
That couldn't be right. Keelie wished she'd taken the willow-bark tea that Janice had sent along. Stupid fairy dust. When she caught up with the tiny terrorist, she'd feed him
to Knot. But how to tell a fairy bug from a real bug?

"Keelie? This dress?" Raven looked at her, eyebrows
raised.

Keelie lowered the covers. "Too much," she whispered,
and wished Raven would, too. "It's too tempting for Knot.
Of course, he might suffocate in it, which would be a
plus." He was the one who'd gotten the fairies riled in the
first place.