The Hawkweed Prophecy by Irena Brignull Page A

creating a barrier around Sorrel that magic couldn’t penetrate. It took such focus and discipline that Raven had partitioned a corner of her mind to deal only with this. Such was the connection with Sorrel that Raven could sense and feel potential danger to her. This invisible shield made Sorrel seem and feel far stronger than she actually was while making Raven more tired and older than her actual years. The effort was so vast and relentless that it had sapped Raven’s youth, drying and wrinkling her skin, hollowing her cheeks and stiffening her joints. But it had to be done. For even though there were those who scoffed and scorned at the prophecy, Raven knew that there were plenty who would kill to gain the throne for themselves.

    Raven was not alone in noticing the change in Ember. Charlock had heard Ember singing in her bed, her clear, high voice trilling like a bird. Normally Charlock would hush her in case the sisters complained, but that night Ember had sounded so contented that she let her continue uninterrupted. Let her be happy today, for there is plenty of sorrow on the way , thought Charlock. Later, through the darkness, Ember asked her mother how far she had ever traveled beyond the camp.
    â€œNot far,” Charlock answered.
    â€œFurther than the blackberry bushes at the edge of the meadow?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œFurther than the bluebell wood?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œFurther than the top of the waterfall?”
    â€œNo,” Charlock lied as she always did. Charlock had become so good at lying that it was now easier than telling the truth.
    â€œDid you ever want to?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œMight you go further one day?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause it is not by steps that I measure the journey of my life.” Charlock heard Ember’s sigh. “Might you go one day?” Charlock asked her daughter.
    â€œNo, I don’t think so.” Ember was not a good liar.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œWhat if I couldn’t come back?”
    Charlock felt a pang in her heart for this sweet, fragile songbird with her clipped wings who longed to take to the skies.
    â€œTell me about you and Raven when you were young,” Ember asked pleadingly.
    Charlock laughed. “Again?!”
    â€œAgain!”
    Ember’s favorite stories were those of Charlock and Raven and their childhood days before Raven had tied herself to her books and was still eager to play and cause mischief. Charlock told of the time when she and Raven rode the hog like a horse, how it charged through the camp, trampling everything in its path, and how they had laughed, even when they had been scolded by all the elders. As she spoke, Charlock remembered what life was like before they knew of the prophecy. The naiveté of it felt weightless as a dandelion seed spinning in the air. Charlock’s spirits lifted for a moment as she recalled their lost innocence, and then it struck her what a vast shadow the prophecy had cast over them, dimming their light, lowering the temperature of their lives.
    Ember’s breath had steadied, and Charlock knew she was asleep. As she studied her child’s soft features, she marveled at Ember’s grip on hopefulness. It could not be prised from her. No matter the mockery or contempt, Ember had a purity that none of the rest of them could ever find within themselves. She was an oyster with a pearl. All her life, Ember had been criticized for being different, but maybe, thought Charlock, maybe it was because she was better.

C HAPTER S IX
    T he next morning Poppy opened her curtains and her room remained dark. The sky was not to be seen that day. It was as though a white sheet had shrouded it, leaving the world colorless and drab. Her father had left for work already. The dregs of his coffee slumped in a mug on the counter; a few soggy cornflakes sat seeping in a bowl. Beside them was a note informing Poppy that he’d be