The Whispering Trees (17 page)

Watcher's eye spun, not as fast as usual, allowing Kara to see a steady streak of colors as they passed.

Oldwitch. Not friend
.

Kara felt the trees above her start to spin.

“No.”

Yes. Oldwitch. Not friend. Trick Witch Girl
.

“No,” said Kara, shaking her head. “That's not true. You're wrong. That can't be true.”

Oldwitch. Sordyr friend
.

“Mary saved my life. She's been helping us.”

Helping you. Get stronger
.

“Yes! She's been teaching me how to be a
wexari
so I can keep Taff safe and escape this place!”

No. For Sordyr. Needs Witch Girl. Strong magic
.

“Sordyr tried to kill us! We've been running from him this entire time!”

No. Sordyr close. Always. Trick Watcher. Trick Witch Girl
.

Kara found a black mushroom as large and solid as a tree trunk and took a seat. She wrapped her arms around her knees and squeezed them tightly together.

“If Sordyr knows where I am, then why doesn't he just come and get me?”

Witch Girl not ready. Sordyr needs
wexari
. Strong
wexari
.

“Why use Mary, then? Why not just teach me himself?”

But Kara didn't need to look at Watcher's eye to know the answer to that one.
I would never allow the Forest Demon to teach me. But a fellow witch, on the other hand . . .

No. She didn't believe it. She had seen the way Mary kissed Taff, the love in her eyes. You couldn't fake that.

Have you forgotten who this is? Mary Kettle. She fooled hundreds of children into trusting her—you don't think she's capable of one convincing kiss?

“So you're saying that all of this has been a type of . . . test?”

Yes. Imogen. Last test. Then Witch Girl ready. Strong
wexari
. Help Sordyr
.

Kara rose from the mushroom and pushed her hair back from her face.

“I will
never
help him,” she said, her voice colder than the night.

Watcher's eye began to spin quickly again, though as it
did Kara heard a new, faint squeaking, like a wagon wheel ready to fall off its axis:
Yes! Witch Girl come! Witch Girl help Watcher friends. Save us!

“That's right. You want my help too.” A horrible thought formed in her mind. “How do I know
you're
not tricking me?”

Watcher opened its eye: the sandy color of a well-known shore.

Watcher friend
.

“Mary has stood by my side and faced all the same dangers as me. What exactly have you done? Why should I trust you any more than her?”

Oldwitch enemy. Watcher friend
.

Kara's thoughts spun.

Perhaps Watcher is right. How else could we have escaped the Forest Demon for this long unless Sordyr allowed it to happen? Unless it was all part of his plan. . . .

And Watcher is hurt. That shows he's no longer helping Sordyr, doesn't it? I can trust him. Unless Sordyr hurt Watcher
just to make his story more convincing. Maybe
that's
the trick. Sordyr is trying to get me to turn against Mary. She would never hurt us. She's my friend, my friend . . .

Kara had no idea who to trust.

“Go,” she said. “Leave me.”

Watcher closed its eye. Opened it again.

Watcher friend
.

“No! You're not! Mother left and Father left and Lucas left and I can't trust Mary and I don't have any friends!”

Watcher friend
.

“Leave! Leave now!”

When the bird showed no sign of moving, Kara's frustration sparked into a red-hot anger.
I just want to be alone; I NEED to be alone
. She reached out with her mind, the bridge between them already there for her to cross, and
shoved
Watcher.

The bird catapulted off the boulder as though shot by an arrow and crashed into a tree with a muffled
thud
. A grave silence filled the forest.

“Watcher?” Kara asked.

There was no response.

She circled around the boulder, supporting herself with one trembling hand.

“Watcher?”

At first she didn't see the bird, its dark-blue plumage camouflaged by shadows and black soil. But then Kara caught a fluttering movement, ineffectual wings making tiny circles in the dirt.

“Watcher,” she said. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—”

Kara bent down and reached out for the bird, meaning to lift it in her hands, but at her touch Watcher burst into the sky and flew shakily away. Its eye had been only the slightest bit open, but it was still enough to reveal the new color within: the gray flint of an arrowhead speckled with crimson.

SCARED! SCARED!

Kara watched the bird vanish, darkness into darkness, her heart thudding tremulously in her chest as she
recognized the source of Watcher's terror and the bitter truth it implied: In this forest of monstrosities, she was the thing to fear.

By the time Kara returned to their campsite the canopy leaves had begun to glow dimly, sharing the collected sunlight from the previous day. Mary slept fitfully, tossing and turning. She looked like she was going to be young today, though a splash of gray remaining in her hair made Kara wonder if she was catching the tail end of Mary's transformation. Creeping silently to her brother's side, she whispered words in his ear until he was awake, then muffled his groggy questions with a touch of her finger.

“We have to go,” Kara said.

Taff looked to Mary and Kara shook her head. For a moment Kara thought her brother might argue, but he simply got to his feet and began quietly gathering his things.

He trusts me so much
, Kara thought.
I hope I'm doing the right thing
.

She took his hand. Together but alone, the two children made their way toward the grove of lost things and the monster waiting within its depths.

K
ara awoke to the aroma of freshly fried bacon. After sliding into her school dress, she washed her face and dashed into the kitchen. Father, in the middle of pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee from the percolator, gave her a bemused look.

“I meant to save you some eggs,” Taff said through a mouthful of food, “but they were just sitting there and I felt bad, so I ate them.”

“Good morning, Father,” said Kara. While reaching for a plate of biscuits she stuck her tongue out at her
brother. “Good morning, egg thief.”

“Does this still qualify as morning?” Father asked. His pants were dirty from the morning's chores, but he had taken his boots off at the door and scrubbed his hands clean.

“It's not
that
late,” said Kara. “I'll still be on time for school.”

“You say that like it's a good thing,” mumbled Taff.

“It's important that you learn,” said Father.

“But it's so
boring
. I bet you even grown-ups would have a hard time sitting in one room for hours and hours and hours.”

“I spend my days toiling beneath the hot sun. Sit and relax while a wise man teaches me about the remarkable history of our people? I would trade places with you any day.”

“Really?” asked Taff.

“Of course not! I suffered through school and now you have to as well. Such is the way of the world.” He lifted
his cup of coffee in Taff's direction. “You'll be having this same conversation with your own children someday.”

“I'm not having children,” said Taff, as though this was a topic to which he had previously given careful thought. “Too much trouble.”

Kara giggled. “Let's see what your wife says about that.”

“
Wife?
I'm
definitely
not having one of those!”

Kara and her father burst into laughter, Taff's confused protests of “What? What?” only making them laugh harder.

“Sounds like I'm missing all the fun,” said Mother, stepping backward into the kitchen. She held a basket overflowing with freshly picked herbs in her arms; Father quickly rushed to her side and carried it into the house. As always, whenever Helena Westfall stepped into the room Kara felt a subtle brightening of the world around them. Part of this was Mother's beauty, but mostly it was just
her
.

“Taff has announced that he is never getting married,” Kara said.

“How sad,” said Mother. “Young girls all over De'Noran are headed for disappointment and they don't even know it yet.” Father placed the basket on their counter. He had begun to grow a beard—trim and neat—and Helena ran her hand over it before kissing him on the lips. “Thank you, my love,” she said.

“Gross,” said Taff. He raised a finger in the air as though proving a point. “That is exactly the type of thing that happens to you when you get a wife.”

Kara started to laugh along with her parents but winced as a high-pitched noise buzzed inside her right ear. For a moment Mother and Father wobbled up and down as though they were standing on a ship.

As quickly as it came, the noise vanished.

“What is it, Kara?” asked Mother, an unusually sharp note of concern entering her voice. “What happened?”

“It's nothing,” Kara said. She tilted her head to one
side, as though trying to loosen an earful of water.

“Come here,” said Mother. “Let me take a look at you.”

But Kara, shrugging, had already slipped out of her chair.

“I'm fine,” she said. “We'd better get to school. I don't want to be late.”

Leah and Hope were waiting for her just outside the schoolhouse. The three friends usually chatted for a few precious minutes before class began, entering the building only at the last possible moment. But Kara was running late and barely had a chance to say good morning before the bell chimed, signifying the start of the school day. The girls had recently lost the privilege of sitting together—Master Blackwood, after chiding them one too many times for talking, decided this would be a simpler solution—so Kara reluctantly slumped into her new seat.

It was in the last row, next to Grace Stone. Kara
thought that might be part of Master Blackwood's punishment as well.

“Good morning, Kara!” the girl exclaimed, eager to see her as always. Her school dress, a size too small, was frayed at the edges and patched poorly in several places. Grace had tried to conceal her strange hair beneath a soiled bonnet, but a few white wisps, unwilling to be contained, dangled across her forehead.

“Morning,” Kara muttered.

She took out her slate and began copying lines from the board. Though she steadfastly avoided looking in Grace's direction, she could feel the girl's piercing blue eyes watching her every move. It was Kara's own fault, she supposed. Last week some of the cattier girls had been teasing Grace, mostly about her father, and Kara had stepped in to defend her. From that point on, the former fen'de's daughter had trailed Kara's steps like a hungry puppy.

“I was thinking of picking washmallows today,” Grace
whispered, tapping her fingers nervously against the desk. “You should come. I know a perfect spot.”

“I can't,” Kara said, not looking up from her slate. “I have chores.”

“I could help you.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Because of your mother? That was such a long time ago, Kara. And it was my father, not me. I was just a child.”

Seven years ago, Grace's father had falsely accused Kara's mother of witchcraft and tried to execute her in front of the entire village. Luckily Father and Aunt Constance had made the villagers see reason in time, leading to Fen'de Stone's excommunication from the Children of the Fold and Grace's subsequent adoption by duty-bound relatives.

The white-haired girl was a constant reminder of the night that could have destroyed Kara's life. For this reason, she could never be Grace's friend. It wasn't fair, but it wasn't wrong, either.

Kara felt a hand on her shoulder.

“What is
that
?” Master Blackwood asked, poking a trembling finger at her slate. “It is certainly not the Clen's fourth creed, I can tell you that much!”

“What do you mean, sir?” Kara asked. “I copied it directly from the board, just like I always—”

She looked down at her slate and gasped. Though the words were in her handwriting, Kara did not remember writing them.

She read the words—
truly
read them—for the very first time:

REMEMBER WHAT IT EATS
.

That night Kara dreamed of a forest littered with lost things, keys and dolls and golden rings set with strange jewels. She followed a path deeper into the trees, winding her way toward a soft, beckoning light. Kara felt someone's hand in her own but when she tried to turn her head to see who it was, the dream did not let her. As Kara
neared the light she heard an old woman whisper four achingly familiar words . . . and then she woke up, with no memory of having dreamed at all.