when everything seemed to go into slow motion. As Figgis hurled himself at the giant:
The ax was thrown from the monstrous hand
It flew through the air like a silver owl
Fell at the feet of the black-haired man
Who raised it high and brought it down:
shoooo.
Figgis saw his severed arm
Falling to the sodden ground
And with his remaining hand
Fumbled for his faithful knife.
Then he thrust the silver blade
In the belly of the giant
Blood fell down like ruby rain
And the giant groaned in pain:
ohhh.
The black-haired man, the bleeding giant
Stumbled off in shadow flight
Figgis closed his heavy eyes
Tumbled into darkest night.
Chapter 18
nother morning, another march through the forest.
But Snowbone wasn't her usual self. She hadn't slept. Now she was tired and grouchy. Her eyes were fixed on the ground and her shoulders sagged. Knowledge was a heavy burden.
Eventually she reached Figgis's house and found the front door closed.
Strange
, she thought.
On a day like this, Figgis would have it open.
She moved closer, wary now. There was a lantern burning inside.
In the middle of the morning?
Snowbone felt her heart leap in her chest. She crept forward and peered through the window. The room looked empty. She opened the door and went in. No one there.
She went outside again and scanned the trees. Nothing moving. She sniffed the air, momentarily wishing that Mouse was with her. She had a keener nose.
She decided to search the forest fringe. She walked through the trees, looked under bushes, found nothing. Then she saw the knife. Figgis's knife. He had polished it yesterday while he talked. Now its blade was crusty with blood.
A few footsteps farther and she found the sleeve of Figgis's jacket. It was empty.
Next, a leather flagon.
Snowbone inched forward, reading the scene with every sense. She felt no fear, just a calm, controlled thrill.
And suddenly there he was. Lying in a crumpled heap, face down, quite still.
Snowbone touched him with the toe of her boot. Nothing. She rocked him with her foot. Still nothing. She kicked him. Figgis moaned and slowly rolled over.
“I thought you were dead,” said Snowbone.
“So did I, for a minute,” said Figgis. “Storm and thunder, my head is banging like a drum.”
“What happened to your arm?”
“Cut off with an ax.”
“But where is it? I just saw your sleeve. It was empty.”
“Yes, well, it would be. When bits get cut off, they vanish into thin air. Don't ask me why. I don't know.”
“Will your arm grow back?”
“It will,” said Figgis wearily. “But at my age, it takes time. A week. Maybe longer. Will you help me up?”
Snowbone helped the tinker to his feet and supported him as he walked to the house. There he lay on the bed while she made tea.
“Oh!” sighed Figgis as he drank the first of several cups. “I have never needed that more.”
“Tell me,” said Snowbone.
“Yes, m'lady,” said Figgis. He eased himself into a more comfortable position. “They came back last night. One I'd seen before and another—a giant of a man. I felt there was something wrong, you know? So I went outside, and they werethere, with their axes. They were cutting down my brother. Can you believe that? Snowbone, hand on heart, I tell you: I don't know what to do. This is not just another part of the forest. This is a sacred grove. For hundreds of years, my family has been coming here to Move On, and there has always been a Figgis here to watch over them. A guardian, if you like. But they have never needed guarding until now. And I
will
guard them. To the last breath in my body, I will fight for my family. I will not let the slavers have them.”
“The slavers will return,” said Snowbone.
“Aye, they will,” said Figgis, “and they'll be angry. I cut one of them last night. Stuck him like a pig. But he won't be dead. Not a man his size.”
“You can't fight them on your own,” said Snowbone.
“I don't have an alternative.”
“You do,” said
The ax was thrown from the monstrous hand
It flew through the air like a silver owl
Fell at the feet of the black-haired man
Who raised it high and brought it down:
shoooo.
Figgis saw his severed arm
Falling to the sodden ground
And with his remaining hand
Fumbled for his faithful knife.
Then he thrust the silver blade
In the belly of the giant
Blood fell down like ruby rain
And the giant groaned in pain:
ohhh.
The black-haired man, the bleeding giant
Stumbled off in shadow flight
Figgis closed his heavy eyes
Tumbled into darkest night.
Chapter 18
nother morning, another march through the forest.
But Snowbone wasn't her usual self. She hadn't slept. Now she was tired and grouchy. Her eyes were fixed on the ground and her shoulders sagged. Knowledge was a heavy burden.
Eventually she reached Figgis's house and found the front door closed.
Strange
, she thought.
On a day like this, Figgis would have it open.
She moved closer, wary now. There was a lantern burning inside.
In the middle of the morning?
Snowbone felt her heart leap in her chest. She crept forward and peered through the window. The room looked empty. She opened the door and went in. No one there.
She went outside again and scanned the trees. Nothing moving. She sniffed the air, momentarily wishing that Mouse was with her. She had a keener nose.
She decided to search the forest fringe. She walked through the trees, looked under bushes, found nothing. Then she saw the knife. Figgis's knife. He had polished it yesterday while he talked. Now its blade was crusty with blood.
A few footsteps farther and she found the sleeve of Figgis's jacket. It was empty.
Next, a leather flagon.
Snowbone inched forward, reading the scene with every sense. She felt no fear, just a calm, controlled thrill.
And suddenly there he was. Lying in a crumpled heap, face down, quite still.
Snowbone touched him with the toe of her boot. Nothing. She rocked him with her foot. Still nothing. She kicked him. Figgis moaned and slowly rolled over.
“I thought you were dead,” said Snowbone.
“So did I, for a minute,” said Figgis. “Storm and thunder, my head is banging like a drum.”
“What happened to your arm?”
“Cut off with an ax.”
“But where is it? I just saw your sleeve. It was empty.”
“Yes, well, it would be. When bits get cut off, they vanish into thin air. Don't ask me why. I don't know.”
“Will your arm grow back?”
“It will,” said Figgis wearily. “But at my age, it takes time. A week. Maybe longer. Will you help me up?”
Snowbone helped the tinker to his feet and supported him as he walked to the house. There he lay on the bed while she made tea.
“Oh!” sighed Figgis as he drank the first of several cups. “I have never needed that more.”
“Tell me,” said Snowbone.
“Yes, m'lady,” said Figgis. He eased himself into a more comfortable position. “They came back last night. One I'd seen before and another—a giant of a man. I felt there was something wrong, you know? So I went outside, and they werethere, with their axes. They were cutting down my brother. Can you believe that? Snowbone, hand on heart, I tell you: I don't know what to do. This is not just another part of the forest. This is a sacred grove. For hundreds of years, my family has been coming here to Move On, and there has always been a Figgis here to watch over them. A guardian, if you like. But they have never needed guarding until now. And I
will
guard them. To the last breath in my body, I will fight for my family. I will not let the slavers have them.”
“The slavers will return,” said Snowbone.
“Aye, they will,” said Figgis, “and they'll be angry. I cut one of them last night. Stuck him like a pig. But he won't be dead. Not a man his size.”
“You can't fight them on your own,” said Snowbone.
“I don't have an alternative.”
“You do,” said
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