Tree Girl (7 page)

She shuddered, remembering that face in the forest. And all the master’s gruesome tales of poor creatures killed by ghouls—creatures whose eyes
had been ripped out of their skulls, whose skin had been torn to bits by cruel claws, and whose bloody innards had been draped from trees.

Seeing Old Burl, she strode over and sat on one of the fir’s knobby roots. That familiar smell, both tart and sweet, rolled over her like a wave. And calmed her, as it always did. As she sat there in the cool shade, Eagle, who had been busy pecking clam shells on the beach, hopped to her side.

Anna gazed up into the layers of needled branches. “What should I believe, Burl? Is Sash really a tree spirit?” She tilted her head slightly. “Are you?”

The tree gave a quiet creak of its trunk. No more.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against Old Burl’s trunk. She could almost feel something in there. Something that stirred with a life of its own. Was it a spirit? Or just a bark beetle? She couldn’t be sure.

Her eyes opened and turned to the forest—and what lay beyond. The far ridge was covered with mist, like a blanket that someone had woven from wisps of cloud. What was it, really, that drew her to
the High Willow? The memory of her mother, or something else?

She shook her head. She couldn’t be sure of that, either. Mayhaps she wasn’t really remembering her mother, but only those songs she would sing. Songs that blew like the wind…and beat like a heart.

That evening, after a supper of crabmeat cakes and mackerel soup, the master checked carefully all the door and window latches. “Can’t be too blasted careful,” he grumbled. “‘Tis a full moon tonight, and them ghouls will be out a-prowlin’.”

He swung his face toward her. The orange glow from the hearth flickered on his brow, as if his thoughts were on fire. “Ye haven’t seen any more bears recently, have ye, girl?”

Anna looked up from the leggings she was trying to repair. “No,” she answered truthfully. But she frowned, wishing she could open her whole heart to him. The way she could long ago, when she was little.

“Good.” The old man reached for his pipe, stuffed some dried kelp in the bowl—then cast it aside. “Aaah! I be too thunderin’ tired for even a
smoke. These summer days be long ones, and brutal.”

Anna felt a surge of sympathy. “You’ve done well, sir, with your catches.”

“Well enough,” he replied, his voice a touch softer. “Got to keep us fed, I do.” His gray eyes glowed like coals in the firelight. He looked at her almost warmly. “Yer gettin’ bigger, girl. And I wants ye to keep on growin’.”

She grinned at the corners of her mouth. “That’s why I need to lengthen these leggings.”

“And why ye needs yer sleep.” She wasn’t sure, but he almost seemed to grin himself. “Get now, to bed with ye.”

Moments later, Anna lay on her pallet of straw. She watched the firelight flicker on the thatch above, and felt warmed by something more than the hearth. And she knew she would sleep well tonight.

But she was wrong. She rolled and turned. Bits of straw poked at her neck. And someone was calling to her, calling her name.

“Anna,” the voice called. “Rowanna.”

She sat up. Fingers of moonlight were reaching through the cracks in the shutter, groping at the
edge of her pallet. She listened, trying to hear the voice that had called to her. All she heard, though, was the splash of surf outside the cottage.

Yet someone had truly called. She was sure of it. Sash? No…not him, but someone else. Aye, someone she knew. But who? And she could still hear that voice now—not with her ears, but deeper, in her bones.

Outside. Right now, waiting for me.
She stood up and walked across the earthen floor.
The master—mustn’t wake him. He needs to sleep.

Almost in a dream, she tiptoed past the master, sound asleep. Ever so quietly, she glided to the door. When her hand touched the latch, though, she froze. Should she really do this? Was there something wrong with opening the door, something she couldn’t remember?

But the pull to go outside was too strong. She slid open the latch. Cold night air slapped her face and flowed right through her grass nightshirt. She shivered, then stepped onto the beach.

Old Burl stood motionless, watching. The fir’s branches glittered in the silvery light. And behind, a great globe was rising over the forest, glowing brighter by the second. The rising moon!

Had the moon somehow called to her? She watched, entranced, as it lifted over the trees and into the sky as dark as octopus ink. Its light made a pathway across the clouds. A pathway that shone like the sunlit sea.

Suddenly she caught her breath. For the shining path led across the sky and straight to the highest knoll on the ridge. And ended at the single tree that stood there, all alone. Aye, the High Willow had never looked so clear as it did tonight! Its arching branches seemed to glow with a light of their own.

Anna knew, in a flash, who had called her name. The willow! She stepped closer to the forest edge.
I will come to you, I will. And I promise—

“Thunder and blast, girl! What be ye doin’ out here at night?”

The master stood at the cottage door. He glared at her, the moonlight in his eyes as bright as lightning bolts. Then, as he saw where she was looking, he strode over and seized her by the shoulders.

“I should’ve known, ye brainless child! Lookin’ right into the eyes of that ghoul on the ridge!”

“B-but sir…,” she sputtered. “It’s n-not like that.”

“What?” He squeezed her shoulders. “Are ye sayin’ there be no ghoul there?”

“
Oww
,” she squealed, trying to pull away. “I’m saying mayhaps there’s more to that tree than we know.”

He squeezed her harder.

“
Ow
, Master, please! You’re hurting me.”

His face twisted and he relaxed his grip a little. “That tree be terrible dangerous, girl. Terrible dangerous! Surely ye know that by now.”

She shook her head, as mist filled her eyes.

For a long moment he peered down at her. His own eyes grew clouded. “I jest don’t want to lose ye, child. Not after everythin’ I—”

He caught himself. His tongue worked inside his mouth, as if he wanted to swallow some words he just could not speak. Finally, in a raspy voice, he commanded, “Now go. Back inside where ye belong! Afore them ghouls be comin’ for ye.”

As the door slammed behind them, a new breeze arose, leaning on Old Master Burl. The tree’s moonlit branches sagged lower, and made a sound very much like a sigh.

A
S THE DAYS GREW LONGER
, Anna’s hunger to go to the willow grew sharper. Not even the warm waves that sloshed upon the shore, or the seal pups who played on the sand, could distract her now.

“Is this the day? Will Sash come this morning?” She woke up every day with the same questions on her mind.

Meanwhile, she hardly even spoke with the master. His face looked hard these days. Aye, and brittle as dried thatch.

One morning, just after the master had dragged his boat into the surf and rowed off for the day, Anna sat down beside Old Burl. She put her hand on a mound of needles between two roots—and felt something move. What was this? Looking closer, she saw a tiny pink paw. She pushed aside the needles.

A nest of mice! The mother mouse lay on her side, while four babies as pink as rosebuds
squirmed beneath her, trying to suckle. A fifth one had rolled away, and squeaked for help. Anna nudged the little mouse back to where it belonged, while the mother watched with bright black eyes.

Anna covered them again with needles. Then she scanned the forest edge. Still no Sash! She slapped the side of the tree and demanded, “Where is that bear? Why hasn’t he come?”

The old tree stirred ever so slightly. A single fleck of bark fell to the ground, spinning all the way.

“I’ve got to go back there, Burl. If I don’t, I’ll just die!” She drew a long breath. “Oh, Burl! What if Sash isn’t coming at all?”

Needles rustled in the fir’s upper boughs.

“I
am
being patient. I am, I tell you!”

But still Sash didn’t come.

More days passed. Anna watched and waited for some sign from him. Yet none came.

Then, at last, the sign appeared. Or more truly, it disappeared. For one day, when she was outside pulling radishes, her sandals vanished. One minute she set them down by the garden’s edge—and the next minute, they were gone.

It had to be him! She scooped up Eagle and put
him in her apron pocket. Then she dashed through the brambles and into the forest.

Near the glade, she stopped. There were her sandals—hanging from a branch of the great beech. And there, hanging beside them in the silvery boughs, was her friend. The upside-down boy waved both his hands. His dangling hair seemed to shoot straight out of his head.

Anna grabbed a low branch, swung her leg over, and scampered up the tree as fast as a squirrel. When she reached Sash, she slid over to the spot where his legs wrapped around the branch. And started tickling the bottoms of his feet.

“
Hoohoo
, now stop that!
Hoohoohoo heehee ho-ho-ho.
Anna, stop!” He turned himself over and sat upright beside her. His whole face scowled. “That was mean.”

“So was making me wait so long!”

His green eyes glittered. “Missed me, didn’t you?”

“
Mmm
, not really.” She almost smiled. “Eagle and I, we’ve been dancing day and night.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Anna tapped her toes against the smooth bark of the beech. “When can we go, Sash?”

He looked puzzled. “Go where?”

“The High Willow! Like you promised.”

“Did I?” He rubbed his chin slowly. “I
never
make promises.”

“Oh, you! Stop the joking, all right?” She frowned at him. “Really, sometimes I think I liked you better as a bear!”

“If that’s what you want to see, I can always change back.”

“What I want is to go to the willow!”

“Really, now? Why didn’t you say so?” He broke off a twig and tossed it at her. “So when do you want to go?”

“Now!” She nodded several times. “Right now.”

“Fine. Old Fungusface will just have to make his own supper tonight.”

Anna, who had already started climbing down the beech, suddenly froze. “You mean we can’t do it in a day?”

He smirked. “Not unless you can fly.”

Cheeeyup!
The sparrow in her apron pocket started squawking loudly.

“Right, Eagle. You’re right.” Anna reached down and stroked his rumpled feathers. “You’re
the only one of us who’ll ever fly.” Then she turned back to Sash. “How long is the trek?”

“Two days, at least.”

“Two days!” Her face fell. “But…”

“Oh, come on, now. Let the old man make his own biscuits for once.”

“It’s not that, Sash.”

“So what’s wrong, then?”

“It’s…well, there’s no telling
what
he might do if he finds me gone! And when I come back, he—” She shook her head. “No, no, I don’t even want to think about that.”

She hit the beech’s trunk with her fist. “Wait! I have an idea!” Quickly, she climbed back up and sat on the branch beside him. “In just about a week, he goes out to the Farthest Reef to fish. It’s a long trip, and he needs lots of daylight to do it. So he goes only once a year. On the longest day of summer.”

“High Hallow Eve,” said the boy quietly. “He leaves you alone on
that
night?”

Anna gave a slow nod. Below, in the ferns at the edge of the glade, she saw a young hedgehog nuzzling its mother’s side. “Aye, and that’s when we’ll make our own journey.”

A mysterious smile lit Sash’s face. “That’s a special night in the forest, too, you know.”

“What do you mean, special?”

His eyes flashed strangely. “You’ll see. Soon enough.”

A
T LAST
, THE DAY ARRIVED. Aye, and none too soon!

Anna could hardly contain herself as she helped Master Mellwyn get ready for his trip to the Farthest Reef. She wrapped some scallop cakes, mended his shroud, and checked all his nets—all the while trying to keep her excitement from showing. So she spun no twirls and sang no songs.

But crab claws, it was hard!

After breakfast, the master sat in the driftwood chair by the hearth, chewing on the stem of his pipe. He blew a puff of greenish smoke. And watched Anna closely.

“The moon will be out tonight, girl. And almost full.”

She looked up from the flask she’d been filling with water. “Aye, sir.”

“And ye recall what happened afore, that dreadful night?”

“Aye, sir.”

He puffed some more, eyeing her all the while. “Ye promise not to forget what I told ye?”

Anna swallowed and tried to keep her voice steady. “I promise.”

He continued to watch her pour the water. “Mayhaps I shouldn’t go at all this year.”

Her hands squeezed the flask, but she said nothing. She just returned his gaze in silence. But under her apron, her heart was pounding like the surf in a summer squall.

In time, he spoke again. “Blast that larder of ours! Hard as I’ve worked, it still be almost empty. And we’ll be needin’ some bigger fish for smokin’, if we’re not to starve this winter.” He tapped his pipe against the palm of his hand. “So I guess I must be goin’ after all.”

Anna barely nodded.

An hour later, the master shoved off. As he rowed across the lagoon, morning light gleamed on the waves like a web of spun gold. Anna watched from the window as his boat, loaded down with extra nets, lines, and bait, vanished over the horizon. Then she grabbed her own supplies—a shredded cloak and a pocketful of radishes—and scurried out the door.

She paused just long enough to step over to Old Burl, who stood as always by the cottage. She drank in the smell one more time, and patted the fir’s rough bark. Then, without looking back, she plunged into the woods.

Sash met her at the glade. The boy reached up to tickle Eagle, who was riding on her shoulder—and got nipped in return. With a laugh, he started off, Anna at his side. They walked fast, bare feet slapping on the leaves and lichens. Not fast enough, though! Anna broke into a run, jumping over the rocks and broken branches on the ground. Sash padded along beside her.