Choose. Choose,
"
She heard the hoarse whisper and turned toward the cage. Hartley still lived. His eyes held the only color in his face, but they lit the dusk like torches.
"Forgive her,
She dropped her hand. Lord Bradwell bent and pulled Claudia to her feet.
"No hatred," she whispered.
"Only forgiveness."
He smiled and closed his eyes and lay back.
Strange vibrations beat an uneven rhythm under her knees and palms. Behind her, Cyrus Fleming swore. She turned her head and stared down the fell through her veil of hair.
Coming up the fell, seemingly alone, was Donal. He raced swift as a young calf, with leaps and bounds that should have been impossible for a boy of his size. Just over his head, visible only to those with eyes to see, was the trailing, glittering mist of unearthly flight. Tod.
"Mother!"
Donal cried.
"Da!"
He reached
"The hunter let me go. Tod let Mrs. Byrne out of the house, and she told Mr. Blake that he shouldn't listen to Aunt Claudia. He went away to
"Da," he said. "I'll help you." He looked straight up at Claudia, and she leaned back into Cyrus's hold. There was an instant of total silence. And then, from every direction, came the rustling of grass and the patter of little feet and the grunts and snuffles of a hundred animal voices. All converged upon the cage.
watched them with prayers of joy and gratitude. Field mice, voles, foxes, and every sort of creature not asleep for the winter arrived in their varied legions—all accepting the truce that Donal imposed with his call. Claudia shrieked. Donal smiled.
"We will protect you, Da," he said, holding out his hand so that a pair of field mice could run up to perch on his shoulder. Three grumpy badgers, awakened from their sleep, planted themselves at Claudia's feet and glared up at her. The rest formed a large, loose circle about the humans.
Hartley raised his head, and tears fell from his eyes to pool on the cold metal floor of his cage.
"They will not hurt you, Claudia,"
"So that he may work his evil on some other innocent?"
Claudia clenched her hands, shooting glances right and left as if trying to watch all the animals at once. "He will take you away from me, and destroy you, as he destroyed my love!"
"No. He will not take me away. He will go with our son to a place where both of them will be safe from people like you."
"Safe from punishment!"
Claudia cried. "I will
not
give him up!"
An unearthly cry silenced them both. Hartley had risen into a crouch within the cage. His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. From his brow sprouted antlers, and from his mouth came another cry that shook the very dale itself.
In the distance came a faint rumbling, like an approaching storm.
Out of the forest, down the fell, up from the dale dashed the
Cyrus pulled Claudia against him. "
"There is nothing to fear."
But among the deer was another red-coated creature, nearly lost in the forest of stamping hooves. It continued to the very edge of the cage when the others had stopped.
A fox.
A red fox, crouching and cowering low to the earth.
Hartley knelt. He lifted his hand and spread his fingers as if in a benediction.
"Be free," he commanded.
The fox writhed, falling upon its back.
Claudia stood rigid in Cyrus's hold, staring at the man. She spoke a single, croaking word.
"Raines."
And
Claudia shook herself free. She took a halting step toward her husband, and then another, and another. The man rose to his knees. He blinked as if he had forgotten how to see with human eyes.
"Claudia?"
turned Donal away. What happened now was a private reunion, and even after all Claudia had done—after all her scheming and hatred—she deserved this promise of redemption.
But when
"
No
. Not yet." She lifted Donal high and pressed her cheek to his. "Call your father, Donal. Call him!"
"Wake up, Da!" Donal cried. "Wake up!"
Hartley stirred. He whispered something too low for
"He's trying, Mother," Donal said. "He's so tired."
A large, gentle hand came to rest on
Dry-mouthed and shaking,
"Help me," she begged. "Soon you'll be in a place where you can heal. You must try. Damn you, Hartley, try!"
He moved almost infinitesimally.
There was no time to let him rest. His only chance at recovery lay in his own land.
In Tir-na-nog.
But she did not know how to find the way.
"Donal, think very hard.
Did your father ever tell you how to get to the land of the Fane?"
"Yes, Mother. I can show the way."
Thank God
. "Help me carry him into the forest," she asked Lord Bradwell.
"And Claudia?"
glanced over her shoulder. Two people were locked in a weeping embrace, oblivious to the world around them.
"She is a danger no longer. We must go."
Together, with Donal leading the way, she and Lord Bradwell carried Hartley into the wood, to the heart of the Forest Lord's realm, where the Grandfather Oak spread his limbs in benevolent rule.
Of course
,
The gate is here
.
She and Lord Bradwell laid Hartley down.
"Come, my love," she whispered. "Your gate lies here, but I cannot open it. You must do it. Take our son, and teach him… teach him to be happy." She turned his face and kissed him.
His lips moved on hers. He opened his eyes—those unearthly, mysterious eyes like wet summer leaves—and smiled.
"Thank you, Eden," he said. He lifted his hand to stroke her hair. "I… cannot repay you.
But I…
I shall never forget you."
She need hold back her tears only a little while longer.
"Nor I you.
Come." She tugged at his arm. Her father pulled him up. Hartley faced the oak. He murmured words in a language
"The gate," Hartley said. He looked at
"I know." She smiled for him. "Your life is all that matters now.
And Donal's."
She pushed Donal gently toward his father. "Donal, you will go with your father to a very special place, where you will be happy and no one can ever hurt you."
"No, Eden," Lord Bradwell whispered.
"Can't you see? It is the only way. I know that now."
Hartley took Donal's hand. "This is a gift I do not deserve. Ah,
She covered his lips with her finger. "You must go quickly.
Quickly."
She turned her face away.
But he caught her face in his hands and turned it again and kissed her. Her tears mingled on their lips.
"You will have love,
Donal planted his feet. "Is Mother coming, too?"
"Not… now, Donal.
We must go first. You will like Tir-na-nog—"
"Mother!"
Donal began to cry, as he so seldom did.
"I will be along soon," she said, stroking Donal's hair. "Please, go with your father." She nodded to Hartley, and he lifted Donal into his arms, though the effort cost him dearly.
A flash of sparkling light whirled overhead. Tod appeared, circling them joyfully.
"We go!" he cried. "We go home?"
"Yes," Hartley echoed.
"Home."
In a heartbeat Tod had flung himself through the shimmering gate and vanished. Hartley cradled the weeping Donal to his shoulder and looked one last time at
fell to her knees. Lord Bradwell knelt beside her and held her like the true father he had never been before.
"It is my fault," he groaned. "Oh,
covered his hand with hers. "No, Papa." She tried to smile. "You are not to blame."
"I do not deserve your affection. Oh, my dear, if only I could suffer in your place."
She shook her head. No one else could endure this unbearable loss—and she would endure, for the sake of those who still needed her.
For the servants and tenants and beasts of Hartsmere.
"We need not remain here,
Forget
.
And in this forest.
For as long as she lived, she would preserve what he had loved. No ax would ever touch these trees, nor
hunter invade
its borders.
And every time she came to this place, she would know that the two she loved more than life itself were happy and safe on the other side.
That certainty must see her through all the years to come.
"I no longer try to escape what I fear, Papa," she said. "Hartsmere is my home. I will stay."
She settled against the tree and closed her eyes. After a time, Lord Bradwell left her, and beasts large and small crept from the shrubbery to pay her homage. Even they did not see her weep.