Tree Girl by T. A. Barron Page B

and them ghouls will be out a-prowlin’.”
    He swung his face toward her. The orange glow from the hearth flickered on his brow, as if his thoughts were on fire. “Ye haven’t seen any more bears recently, have ye, girl?”
    Anna looked up from the leggings she was trying to repair. “No,” she answered truthfully. But she frowned, wishing she could open her whole heart to him. The way she could long ago, when she was little.
    “Good.” The old man reached for his pipe, stuffed some dried kelp in the bowl—then cast it aside. “Aaah! I be too thunderin’ tired for even asmoke. These summer days be long ones, and brutal.”
    Anna felt a surge of sympathy. “You’ve done well, sir, with your catches.”
    “Well enough,” he replied, his voice a touch softer. “Got to keep us fed, I do.” His gray eyes glowed like coals in the firelight. He looked at her almost warmly. “Yer gettin’ bigger, girl. And I wants ye to keep on growin’.”
    She grinned at the corners of her mouth. “That’s why I need to lengthen these leggings.”
    “And why ye needs yer sleep.” She wasn’t sure, but he almost seemed to grin himself. “Get now, to bed with ye.”
    Moments later, Anna lay on her pallet of straw. She watched the firelight flicker on the thatch above, and felt warmed by something more than the hearth. And she knew she would sleep well tonight.
    But she was wrong. She rolled and turned. Bits of straw poked at her neck. And someone was calling to her, calling her name.
    “Anna,” the voice called. “Rowanna.”
    She sat up. Fingers of moonlight were reaching through the cracks in the shutter, groping at theedge of her pallet. She listened, trying to hear the voice that had called to her. All she heard, though, was the splash of surf outside the cottage.
    Yet someone had truly called. She was sure of it. Sash? No…not him, but someone else. Aye, someone she knew. But who? And she could still hear that voice now—not with her ears, but deeper, in her bones.
    Outside. Right now, waiting for me.
She stood up and walked across the earthen floor.
The master—mustn’t wake him. He needs to sleep.
    Almost in a dream, she tiptoed past the master, sound asleep. Ever so quietly, she glided to the door. When her hand touched the latch, though, she froze. Should she really do this? Was there something wrong with opening the door, something she couldn’t remember?
    But the pull to go outside was too strong. She slid open the latch. Cold night air slapped her face and flowed right through her grass nightshirt. She shivered, then stepped onto the beach.
    Old Burl stood motionless, watching. The fir’s branches glittered in the silvery light. And behind, a great globe was rising over the forest, glowing brighter by the second. The rising moon!
    Had the moon somehow called to her? She watched, entranced, as it lifted over the trees and into the sky as dark as octopus ink. Its light made a pathway across the clouds. A pathway that shone like the sunlit sea.
    Suddenly she caught her breath. For the shining path led across the sky and straight to the highest knoll on the ridge. And ended at the single tree that stood there, all alone. Aye, the High Willow had never looked so clear as it did tonight! Its arching branches seemed to glow with a light of their own.
    Anna knew, in a flash, who had called her name. The willow! She stepped closer to the forest edge.
I will come to you, I will. And I promise—
    “Thunder and blast, girl! What be ye doin’ out here at night?”
    The master stood at the cottage door. He glared at her, the moonlight in his eyes as bright as lightning bolts. Then, as he saw where she was looking, he strode over and seized her by the shoulders.
    “I should’ve known, ye brainless child! Lookin’ right into the eyes of that ghoul on the ridge!”
    “B-but sir…,” she sputtered. “It’s n-not like that.”
    “What?” He squeezed her shoulders. “Are ye sayin’ there be no ghoul