Emma and the Banderwigh Page 11

  She sat upright, relaxing and looking about at the woods. Everything felt different now. Gone was any sense of fear or worry; the natural world embraced her as though she were safe in her home. He leapt another fallen tree, landing in a shaded grove where wolves had made their den. A dozen adults and several puppies perked up. The little ones raced over to greet the alpha, eager to gain his favor and show their respect.

  The wildkin whisper translated the names of the adults into concepts: Runs in Shadow, Stalks the Wind, and Moonsong came forward to greet the one who had brought her, Greyfang. All the wolves came to sniff at her; wet noses roamed her legs, arms, and neck. The puppies licked and nipped at her toes, making her giggle.

  The moment had every making of a nightmare. Emma knew she was a defenseless human child surrounded by carnivores, but she felt no fear. For no reason she could explain, she trusted them, and they returned her lack of fright in kind.

  Moonsong, a black-furred female, remained after the others wandered off. “Human… Please, follow.”

  Greyfang stooped to let Emma dismount. She walked after the female, past a cluster of curious puppies who kept yapping “hi.” Moonsong stopped at the end of a row of stacked stones, a long-forgotten ruin of human construction. The wolf swung her head back and glanced up at her with sad, green eyes.

  Emma crept around the broken wall and gasped at a wounded, light-furred wolf, lying on its side and wheezing.

  “Howls at Rain. He is of my womb,” said Moonsong. “The metal fang of a goblin will soon take his life.”

  “I’m…” Emma felt tears well up in her eyes. “It’s my fault.” She approached.

  Howls at Rain snarled, baring fangs. “Human…bad.” His aggression trailed off to a whimper as she neared, gasping through his nostrils in short breaths. “You…” His tongue flicked at her leg.

  She knelt at his side, feeling through blood-matted fur a hand’s width behind the right shoulder. A dagger strike oozed blood; the wound smelled foul.

  “I’m so sorry… I’m just a child. I don’t know what to do.”

  The mother wolf bowed her head.

  The potion. Emma blinked hard, clearing her eyes of tears and her mind of helplessness. She placed her palms flat on either side of the wound and tried to remember. What did Nan say? Greyfang moved up alongside his mate; Moonsong nuzzled him.

  “She is still a pup,” said Greyfang.

  Moonsong padded over and touched noses with the hurt wolf. “We have given our son for the life of the humans’ pup. Is this the will of Ylithir?”

  Emma choked back a sob, the guilt overwhelming. She offered an apologetic look to the wolves for a moment, before resolve filled her heart.

  “Uruleth, Spirit of the Bear, I call on your power to heal.”

  She gritted her teeth, straining as if she needed to force the effort out of her own body. When she opened her eyes, the wolves were gone, and the trees were different. Her mouth hung slack as she looked at spectral pines, wider around than a house and too tall to see the tops. It seemed dark as night, yet every surface shimmered with an unearthly light that outlined all detail and fluttered in wisps.

  She looked down at her hands, still held as if over the wound. Howls at Rain had faded to grey and ceased moving, as if part of the background. Her mind raced, searching for some explanation for what had happened.

  “Uruleth―”

  “I am here.”

  A voice rolled like a tumbling boulder through the woods, shaking her bones. Emma bit her lip at the sight of a ghostly mass in the shape of a bear, advancing out of the trees towards her. If it yawned, its mouth would have been large enough for her to walk into, standing. Such a massive thing should surely have scared her, but a sense of reverence overtook her and she bowed her head.

  “You ask me to restore a child of Ylithir. He who is known for cunning, he who is known for taking advantage of the weak. I do not know you, daughter of Bethany Dalen, daughter of the Raven. Why should I heed your ask?”

  “Great Uruleth…” Her voice wavered, unsure. “I am Emma. I believe the wolf is my spirit, and this one was hurt saving my life. If not for him, the goblins would have killed me and my little brother. Ylithir is also known for loyalty to his pack, is he not?”

  Blasts of warmth lofted her hair from a massive nose. “You have the taint of darkness on you, child.”

  “A Banderwigh took me.”

  “And yet you are here.”

  Emma shivered from the powerful voice that flooded everything in this strange reality. “I did not let it make me sad. It set me free. The Raven said I banished it.”

  “You are strong, but your fight is not yet over.” The sense of Uruleth’s presence receded. “You have managed to draw nobility from the opportunist. I shall grant your request.”

  Her gaze snapped up, but the bear spirit had gone. In the far distance, the shadow of an ethereal wolf raised its head to look at her. The grand animal stood statue still, a transparent figure defined by threads of pure white light. His blue eyes shimmered and seemed to convey acceptance. Emma smiled. Amid a great rushing sound, the other-forest vanished to blackness. Soft green light glowed in front of her, pooling in her hands. She stared into it, feeling energy drain from her as it grew in size and intensity. A part of her knew she held pure life, seeping through her fingers with a vibrant, yet cool tingle. Fur swelled up beneath her hands, and she was touching the wolf again.

  She startled at the coldness of a nose at the side of her neck. The wolves were back; all crowding around to get a better look at the cloud of emerald light wrapping her arms. Hope on her face, she watched it swirl. Howls at Rain’s wound did not close. Alarmed, Emma shivered for an instant before she remembered what Nan had said about desire. She took a determined breath and tensed.

  Focused on the want to help, she forced the life energy around her hands into the creature before her. The glow diminished and the wound shrank to a small scab. Howls with Rain made a soft noise somewhere between a sigh of canine relief and a growl, and lapsed into sleep. Moonsong sniffed at where the wound had been, and rubbed her head against Emma’s.

  The gesture made Emma cry again, this time because she was happy. She thought of Mother’s reaction when she had seen the bruise on her face. Moonsong nudged at Emma’s side until she put an arm over the wolf, then licked at her face.

  “Emma,” said Greyfang. “Your mother is searching for you. Come, I will return you to your family.”

  She climbed onto the large wolf’s back once more without a trace of hesitation. Greyfang bounded into a run. They flew among the woods, leaping thick bundles of roots and swerving around dense trees. Emma let go of his neck and held her arms up, calling out with delight at the wind in her face.

  “Emma!” Mother’s desperate shout echoed through the forest.

  He steered towards the sound, trotting out onto a clear trail. A few paces away, Mother spun about at the sudden appearance of a wolf of that size, a quarterstaff raised. The sight of Emma riding it stunned her mute for a moment―but Emma was every bit as shocked to see her mother in a dark green robe and darker cloak, with enough fierceness in her eyes to give any bandit pause. Emma had never thought Mother as much more than a townswoman, but the way she held the staff showed that her family was full of surprises.

  Greyfang crouched so she could dismount. Emma ran into her Mother’s embrace.

  “I’m sorry to frighten you. There was a hurt wolf. I spoke to Uruleth!” Emma bounced.

  Mother bowed at the alpha, who brought his head low for a moment in acknowledgement before zooming away into the dark.

  “I see Nan has taken to teaching you some things already. I would like to know what happened.” Mother smiled.

  Emma drew a gasping breath at a trickle of green liquid working its way down her mother’s weapon.

  “It is nothing to fear, Emma. Just a few goblins.”

  She clung to her mother’s side as they walked home, and told of her meeting with the spirits.


  ind howled outside, driving rain into the walls. Emma, Kimber, and Tam lay on the floor in the loft, on one of Nan’s quilts. The area did not have separate walls and ceiling so much as two angled surfaces that could be called either. Storage trunks lined the sides of the small space, and one tiny window above a bench let in grey light. Rain pattered heavy on the roof, surging in waves with a gusting wind. Tam lay flat on his chest, his stick knight and shrub dragon locked in mortal combat before his eyes. The girls had flopped next to each other, propped up on their elbows. Kimber dug her feet into the quilt for warmth while Emma crossed her ankles in the air and gnawed on a cookie from the plate between them.

  Emma smiled as she thought about baking them a few hours earlier, with Nan’s help. The cookies had come out lacking in sweet, but Nan saved them with a brushing of molasses.

  Tam made roaring noises, distracting her from her daydream. Shrub Dragon wanted to devour all of the cookies before the children could get any, but Stick Knight had the upper hand. Kimber fussed with the yarn hair of a cloth doll Emma had bequeathed to her; she had not much bothered with them since she had taken to looking after Tam.

  The new member of the family looked so different with her hair clean and combed―not wild, frizzed, and matted with dirt. She was still too scrawny, something Nan was determined to remedy. No one in the village seemed the least bit upset at the death of Old Man Drinn, though Kimber got sad about it sometimes. Emma couldn’t understand how she could have any feelings for that man. She tried to imagine how she would feel about Father if he treated her like that. She snarled as she bit off half her cookie in one chomp.

  Emma stared through the bite mark while grumbling in her head, wondering how an entire village whispered in secret, lamenting how bad poor little Kimber had it. All the while, no one did anything to help. Of course, now that he was dead, they clucked like hens about how the gods always took things to rights.

  A twinge of unease crept through Emma’s gut at the thought of him. The look in Mother’s eye when Emma admitted how she’d gotten bruised was frightening. The staff-toting woman in the woods was rather different from the happy mother who smiled and waved at everyone in town at least once a day. Emma shivered at a surge in the wind, wondering if her mother might have played a part in the man’s death. She remembered the flash of purple fire, and Nan’s praise of how good Mother was making elixirs.

  Could she have killed him?

  Emma glanced into the armhole of Kimber’s dress, where protruding ribs moved under her skin. She would have starved if he didn’t hit her to death. Emma felt uneasy about the idea of Mother taking a man’s life, but…maybe it was for the best.

  Tam tugged the cookie plate away as Kimber reached for one, moving it closer to him and Emma. Kimber’s smile vanished and her eyes reddened. She let the doll slip out of her hands and looked away from both of them. Gales forced the scent of rain into the house.

  “Tam!” Emma handed Kimber a cookie. “That’s not nice. Why did you do that?”

  He mashed his toy figures together, not looking at either of them. Emma tapped her fingers on the floorboards until he looked up, giving her a pathetic stare.

  “Tam?”

  He sniffled. “I only get half your love. You gotta share it wif me an’ her now.”

  Kimber crossed her arms and put her head down.

  Emma went from lying on her belly to sitting with her legs to the side. She leaned forward and ruffled his hair. “Tam, love isn’t like cookies. I don’t have any less for you because we got a new sister.”

  “Mom didn’t have her.” Tam pointed.

  The red-haired girl mumbled something. From the sound of her voice, she was crying. Emma crossed her arms and gave him a stern look.

  “What?” asked Tam.

  “Be nice, Tam. He might have been mean, but she’s just lost her father.”

  “He was bad,” said Tam. “I know he was bad ’cause he made her go in the woods alone. We’re not ‘llowed to do that ’cause Papa says we’ll get hurt.” He thought for a moment. “Did her Papa want her to get hurt?”

  Emma cringed. She hated lying to her brother, but he was only six. “I… don’t think so, Tam. He was careless and stupid.”

  Kimber curled on her side. “Yer Ma an’ Pa don’ really wan’ me. They bein’ a nice ‘cause I donnae ‘ave a home na more.”

  “You didn’t have a home before.” Emma put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Kimber, Da and Mama want you to be part of our family. Me an’ Tam, they had to keep ’cause she had us. They chose to keep you.”

  Tam gave Emma a raspberry.

  Sniffling, Kimber rolled over and sat up, unable to look Emma in the eye. “I’s a so scared ‘a him. He always hittin’ on me, no ma’ how good I tried ta be.”

  “Mama was mad at him for that. She protected us both, like a mother should.”

  Kimber smiled through tears and wiped her face. “Tha’ be nice, if she wan’ me.”

  Emma took Kimber’s arm. “Grab my wrist.” She took Tam’s arm. “Grab her wrist.”

  The three children sat, forming a circle by a grip on each other’s arm. Tam held Kimber, who held Emma, who held Tam.

  “Great Strixian,” she intoned, closing her eyes. “Make us one family.” Emma dropped her voice to a faint mumble that neither Tam nor Kimber could hear. “Grant me the gift of the wildkin whisper.”

  The magic of beast-speech came to her in the form of the wispy white lights. Kimber and Tam went wide-eyed as glowing threads circled them and flowed into Emma’s arms. She raised and lowered their combined grip twice and made a show of breaking the circle with her hand held up, fingers apart.

  “There,” said Emma, with a matter-of-fact nod. “Now we’re real siblings.”

  Her brother looked at her as though she’d poured cold oats in his skivvies. Kimber cradled her wrist and sat with her mouth open. She looked from the quilt at Emma’s knees to her face and back again.

  Emma folded her arms across her chest to settle the matter.

  “W-what was that?” whispered Kimber.

  “Magic,” said Emma. “You saw it, right? You’re our family now.”

  Tam gazed down, guilt all over his face. He bit his lower lip and pushed the cookie plate towards Kimber.

  Nan shuffled into view at the bottom of the loft ladder and gave Emma a conspiratorial wink. “Em, Kimber, come help me start on dinner. Your father’s going to be frozen when he comes home in this weather.”

  Emma leaned to whisper in Kimber’s ear. “See.”

  n the week following Emma’s “ritual” in the loft, life had taken on a sense of normal. Nan occasionally whispered to her about magic, but avoided the topic more than spoke of it. Kimber had come out of her dark spell, and the house had filled with the giggles of children. Even Father had warmed up to her, despite his hesitation about taking on the burden of another child, especially after Mother and Emma had cornered him one night. Emma did not let on she knew what Mother had done, but they both made it clear Kimber was there to stay.

  Emma sat chest-deep in murky bathwater, running a soapy rag up and down Kimber’s back. Tam sat on the other end, in front of Kimber, who scrubbed his hair. He amused himself by grasping at suds, closing his fists so hard white puffs shot into the air. Mother used the space behind Emma to wash laundry. Nan wandered by, causing a break in bathing while she refreshed the bathwater from the kettle. Emma scooted away from the rush of heat at her back, squeezing Kimber into Tam. She swished her arm through the water to mix the not-so-warm with the near-boiling parts.

  When the heat became tolerable, Emma relaxed and scooped water over Kimber’s head with a wooden bowl, rinsing the soap out of her hair. The fragrance of wildflowers surrounded them.

  Emma sniffed the air. “Nan, why do you make your soap smell nice, but your potions taste like dirt?”

  Mother stifled a chuckle.

  “Bah.” Nan flung her hand down in a dismissive wave, and winked at Mother. “And bah
to you too. The both of ‘ya, indeed.”

  Emma handed the bowl to Kimber so she could rinse Tam’s hair. After that, the children rotated to face the other way. Emma helped mother with the clothes while Kimber washed her back. Tam, now behind Kimber, threw suds on her, the floor, the table, Mother, and Nan when she went by. Kimber grunted, trying to squeeze her leg between Emma and the wooden tub in order to sit comfortably. Emma scooted forward to give her more room, as she stuffed one of Mother’s dresses underwater and scrubbed it.

  “How ma’ time’ d’we ‘ave to do this?” whispered Kimber at Emma’s ear.

  “Do what?” asked Emma

  “This.” Kimber slapped at the surface. “Sit inna water.”

  “Have a bath?” Emma held up the dress to appraise a stained spot. “Once a week.”

  Kimber’s hands stopped moving through Emma’s hair. “Neva hadda bath a’fore.”

  The old man had barely fed her, much less taken proper care of his daughter. Emma did not want to dwell on such things. “I can tell. It feels like Tam is throwing soap on me.”

  He giggled.

  “‘E is throwing soap on us,” said Kimber.

  Mother left the last few pieces of laundry to Emma, and moved over to teach Kimber how to wash. Emma squinted at the bundle of wet cloth in her hands, jealousy rising. When the little fingers running through her hair paused, she glanced back. The large smile on Kimber’s face, and Mother’s wink chased it away. Three of Father’s shirts, and two full hair-washes later, the water had gone cool. Emma sank neck deep, slouching with her knees out of the water after she finished the last item―a cooking apron.

  Mother got up, wiping her hands on her dress, and went to fetch towels. “That’s quite enough, come on, all of you out before you prune.”

  Tam leapt from the bathwater and ran off into the house.

  Kimber climbed out of the tub, laughing at him. Emma pulled herself upright and stood there dripping.

  Mother shook her head and draped towels over the girls. Emma pulled the cloth off her head and wrapped herself in it.