Bones of Faerie

Chapter 10

Tallow climbed into my arms and licked my nose once, then leaped to the ground and stalked beneath the tarp to the fire. Her wet fur stuck out in all directions. She began licking the mud from her coat. I stared at Allie. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching out for you. Because you wouldn't promise to watch out for yourself.” Allie sullenly pulled off her pack, followed Tallow to the fire, and warmed her hands by the flames. Her face was smudged with dirt, her dripping hair loose and tangled. She pulled a chunk of bread from her pack and bit into it fiercely. “You two walk fast, you know that?”

Matthew looked at her, looked at me, then silently filled a pot with water and put it on the fire. Allie huddled down near the flames. My stomach ached as I watched her. She seemed younger than I could ever remember being, too young to be out here. “I thought you weren't allowed Outside,” I snapped, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, well, you're not allowed to go around slicing your hands open, either, and then tell me you can't even say it won't happen again.” The firelight cast shadows on her face. “I'm your healer. You're my charge. I understand that, no matter what Dad or Caleb says. I can do what needs doing, too.”

“You could have been killed out there. Don't venture out alone into the dark—”

“It wasn't dark when I left.” Allie sank cross-legged to the ground and let Tallow into her lap. She petted the cat, smearing more mud on them both. “I didn't think you'd go without Tallow. That's why I hid her. But you left anyway, so we both had to follow. Tallow would never abandon you.”

My hands shook. I couldn't find words. Beyond our shelter, rain fell steadily in the darkness. Matthew stared into the hissing pot, steam condensing on his nose and eyelashes. After a time, the water began to boil. He filled a metal mug, tossed in a handful of tea leaves, and handed the mug to Allie. She clutched it tightly as Matthew poured cornmeal into the rest of the water.

“Your father will be worried,” Matthew told her. “Did you consider that?”

Allie scowled into her tea. “Dad's always worried. He wants me to wait until I'm a little old lady to do anything.”

“He wants you to be safe!” My voice rose. “You're going back at first light.”

“I'll follow you again. As often as I have to. You're my charge.”

“Did you leave word?” Matthew's voice was much calmer than mine. “Did you tell someone where you were going?”

“Of course not. I'm not stupid.”

Matthew stirred the cornmeal with a metal spoon. “Listen, Allie. I left to follow Liza, too, so I understand about things that need doing. But you have to let your dad know you're all right. I made sure my grandmother knew before I went.”

Allie sipped her tea. “Did your grandmother try to stop you?”

“No. Gram was worried, she was frightened, but she understood.”

“Your gramma's different, then. Dad would stop me. Caleb and Karin, too. All of them.”

“They should stop you!” I said. “We're going as far from your safe town as anyone can go!”

Allie nodded fiercely. “I know. And I'm going with you. You need a healer anyway. It's dangerous out here.”

“You don't know what danger is.” I didn't have time for this. I needed to be thinking about Mom, not trying to keep this child safe. “We're taking you home.”

Allie set down her tea and began working the tangles from Tallow's coat.

“Did you hear me?”

Allie scowled again as she looked up. “A healer can tell when a healing's not done. Things feel all unfinished, itchy beneath your skin, you know?”

“The only thing I know is that you're going home!” I grabbed her shoulders. She endangered us all—herself, me, Matthew, Mom—I realized I was shaking her only when she tried to twist free, and even then I couldn't seem to stop.

“Liza!” Matthew grabbed my shoulders and jerked me sharply away. Allie fell backward. She didn't cry out, just stared at me with wide, frightened eyes. Matthew whirled me to face him. “Liza, stop.” His voice was lower now, like a growl. “You're not like this, Liza.”

“Let me go,” I hissed. Allie grabbed Tallow into her arms, but she didn't run away. Just like I'd always known better than to run away. I went limp in Matthew's arms. The damp firewood sizzled and popped. “I'm sorry,” I whispered, but I couldn't meet Allie's eyes.

“You're not like him,” Matthew said. He released me, and I drew my arms around myself.

“Go home,” I told Allie. “Go back to your family. Go back where you're safe.”

Allie lifted her chin, her face scared, defiant. “You're not healed yet. I'm not going anywhere.”

I didn't speak to Allie for the rest of the night. I could barely bring myself to look at her. It was Matthew who made sure she ate, helped wash the mud from her skin and hair, and set her bedroll out by the fire.

When I offered to take the first watch, Matthew didn't argue. I stared at the sky, Tallow in my lap, watching the clouds scatter and the stars poke through. I kept a wary eye on the trees above the bluff, but if there were any tree shadows out tonight, I couldn't see them. Perhaps our fire kept them at bay.

A mockingbird called through the night, making a high hollow sound Father said echoed a car alarm. No matter that all the cars were rusted and silent—the birds remembered, and they passed the call on. Allie shivered, shedding her blanket. I scowled and drew it back over her. Her face scrunched up as if she worried at something in her sleep.

By now Samuel knew she was gone. Matthew was right—he'd be worried. He'd be scared. I saw the way he'd looked at her when she came through the Wall unharmed. He'd be searching for her.

What had Father done when I'd gone? Declared that I knew the rules and moved on? Or was he worried, too, even if he didn't let it show? I felt another surge of anger, forced it down, and paced until Matthew gently touched my shoulder and took over the watch.

I woke to Allie and Matthew talking.

“You're still limping,” Allie said.

“Not much.”

“Want me to take a look?”

I opened my eyes to dawn light. My breath frosted in front of me as I sat up. Beyond the tarp the sky was clear, morning mist already thinning away. Allie knelt beside Matthew with her hands over his right leg and her face crinkled in concentration. “That's so strange. Like with Kimi—the injury isn't quite there. It's somewhere else, and without Caleb to show me where, I can't get at it.”

“Don't worry about it.” Matthew smiled and shooed her hands away. “Given the shape I was in a couple days ago, I'll settle for a weak leg.” He turned and drew a pot from the dying embers. The faerie folk could attack again tomorrow, and Matthew would continue boiling water, tending the fire.

He poured tea into plastic water bottles for later. Good plastic, not the kind that melted in the heat. I silently turned to packing our camp while Tallow threaded her way around my ankles and batted at bits of cooling ash caught by the breeze. “You're sure you won't let us take you back?” Matthew asked. Allie just shook her head. I said nothing. I still didn't trust myself to speak. I didn't want her to come, but in truth I had no idea how to stop her.

Allie had no trouble speaking as we shouldered our packs and started out into the cold, clear morning. “So big!” she said as she walked, all hints of the sullen child who'd found us gone. “Who knew the world was so big?” She twirled in place, right in the path, as if that world were the scene of a child's game, nothing more. Her hair had been braided back from her face, by her or by Matthew, I didn't know.

The sky dimmed as something crossed the sun. I froze, motioning Allie to stillness. Tallow hissed. Matthew made a low warning sound, like a whine at the back of his throat. Above the bluff a red-tailed hawk spread wings against the sky. A chill trickled down my spine. Once hawks had hunted only mice and rabbits, but no longer. Some said they'd bred with hawks from Faerie during the War. They were bigger now than they'd been, and they'd developed a taste for bigger game. Even as I watched, the hawk circled downward.

“Go away,” I whispered fiercely, knowing I didn't have time to untie my bow. “Go away.”

The hawk must have seen other prey. It veered abruptly back toward the bluff and disappeared amid the trees.

Allie fell silent for a time after that. The trees were quiet, too, as if their branches were as numb as the fingers I'd shoved into my pockets. A glow in the middle of the road caught my eye. “Look!” Allie said, seeing it at the same time. A stone the size of my fist, giving off faint purple light. “Just like Jared—”

“Don't!” I jerked Allie's arm back. Don't touch any stone that glows.

Allie pulled her arm away, seeming hurt. “I was only looking. I know better than to interfere with someone else's magic.” She walked in a wide circle around the stone to prove the point. Matthew followed, wrinkling his nose as if he smelled something unpleasant. I went last. Even from the edge of the road I felt cold air brush my ankles. We passed a second stone, this one green, and a third, pale orange. “It feels cold the way healing feels cold,” Allie said. The path narrowed and the stones grew more frequent. It was the lichens clinging to their surfaces that shone, I realized, not the rocks themselves. We veered uncomfortably close to the trees to pass them.

A white glow up ahead made us slow down. We turned a bend—and saw that a rockslide from the bluff blocked most of the trail. Dozens of the stones within it glowed white, as bright as sun on ice. Only a narrow corridor wound between the rocks and trees.

Matthew sniffed the air and started forward. Allie followed. I took up the rear, one hand on my knife. The oaks sighed faintly. The sun was rising, warming their green leaves.

A shadow darkened the rocks ahead. I looked up even as the hawk screeched and dove for us. Allie froze, gaze turned upward, too startled to run. I threw myself over her, saw Matthew hit the dirt as well.

Around us, the stones exploded in a snow-bright blaze.