complete with snorts and hiccups. “What do you think, Anna?”
“I’d say it’s not what drumalos do.”
“And you’d be right.”
She slapped her own thigh. “So they couldn’t have killed her!”
“Who?”
“My mother!” Her voice rose, even as the surrounding branches chattered and swished. “The tree ghouls didn’t kill her! Oh, Sash, I’ve got to find out what really happened to her. Got to! She could still be alive, you know.” She swallowed. “And even if she’s not…then at least I’ll know.”
She squeezed his arm. “Take me there, would you? To the High Willow? Right to the place I was found! Please, Sash? Please?”
Somberly, he shook his head. “Sorry. I just can’t.”
Anna just looked at him. A bumblebee hummed right past her cheek, but she didn’t notice. “Can’t?”
He shook his head again.
Tears welled in her eyes, though she tried to blink them back.
“Until my ankle heals, that is!” He laughed, his voice rippling like a swollen stream. “When I’m better, I’ll come for you. And take you there.”
She hooted with delight and hugged him.
Suddenly Eagle started to whistle. Anna looked up at the slanting rays of sunlight, woven through the branches like gleaming threads of gold. Late afternoon already!
“Oh!” she cried. “The master—he’ll be back soon.” She lifted the sparrow onto her shoulder. “I’ve got to go. But will you be all right?”
“Sure,” he replied, with a broad sweep of his arm. “I’ve got plenty of family to look after me.”
Chapter 11
D AYS WENT BY , days that felt like weeks to Anna. The air hummed with insects and rustling leaves, and sunlight warmed the sand late into the evening. Summer had truly begun.
These were the days Anna usually loved most. But now she barely noticed. For her mind was filled, like the shallows at high tide, with questions about Sash. When would he come for her? And would he still want to take her to the willow?
As she stepped along the water’s edge one late afternoon, the cool waves licked her feet. Wet sand slid between her toes. And she wondered about her coming journey with Sash. Would it really be as safe as he thought? What if all tree spirits weren’t as kind and playful as he was? Mayhaps some of them really
were
ghouls.
She shuddered, remembering that face in the forest. And all the master’s gruesome tales of poor creatures killed by ghouls—creatures whose eyeshad 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 tothe 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,
“I’d say it’s not what drumalos do.”
“And you’d be right.”
She slapped her own thigh. “So they couldn’t have killed her!”
“Who?”
“My mother!” Her voice rose, even as the surrounding branches chattered and swished. “The tree ghouls didn’t kill her! Oh, Sash, I’ve got to find out what really happened to her. Got to! She could still be alive, you know.” She swallowed. “And even if she’s not…then at least I’ll know.”
She squeezed his arm. “Take me there, would you? To the High Willow? Right to the place I was found! Please, Sash? Please?”
Somberly, he shook his head. “Sorry. I just can’t.”
Anna just looked at him. A bumblebee hummed right past her cheek, but she didn’t notice. “Can’t?”
He shook his head again.
Tears welled in her eyes, though she tried to blink them back.
“Until my ankle heals, that is!” He laughed, his voice rippling like a swollen stream. “When I’m better, I’ll come for you. And take you there.”
She hooted with delight and hugged him.
Suddenly Eagle started to whistle. Anna looked up at the slanting rays of sunlight, woven through the branches like gleaming threads of gold. Late afternoon already!
“Oh!” she cried. “The master—he’ll be back soon.” She lifted the sparrow onto her shoulder. “I’ve got to go. But will you be all right?”
“Sure,” he replied, with a broad sweep of his arm. “I’ve got plenty of family to look after me.”
Chapter 11
D AYS WENT BY , days that felt like weeks to Anna. The air hummed with insects and rustling leaves, and sunlight warmed the sand late into the evening. Summer had truly begun.
These were the days Anna usually loved most. But now she barely noticed. For her mind was filled, like the shallows at high tide, with questions about Sash. When would he come for her? And would he still want to take her to the willow?
As she stepped along the water’s edge one late afternoon, the cool waves licked her feet. Wet sand slid between her toes. And she wondered about her coming journey with Sash. Would it really be as safe as he thought? What if all tree spirits weren’t as kind and playful as he was? Mayhaps some of them really
were
ghouls.
She shuddered, remembering that face in the forest. And all the master’s gruesome tales of poor creatures killed by ghouls—creatures whose eyeshad 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 tothe 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,
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