Darkwood (32 page)

Annie wanted to put her arms around the wolf. Instead she asked, “What happened next?”

“Then she made a potion for us to drink. You can see the scar on the floor of the cave, there, where the brew bubbled over.”

A patch of shiny black showed on the rock near Annie's foot. She moved her foot away.

“All four of us were to take the potion,” Helia went on. “Sharta and I, our son, Rinka, and the gold child. Sharta drank. I drank. The change came over us so fast. Sharta reared up on his hind legs. His pelt fell off him as if he had been skinned alive. His beautiful face became a stranger's. I saw his horror at the sight of me.

“Rinka fled. We could not hold him. How the apothecary laughed! I still remember her words. ‘To love a human child you must have a human form.' But she was wrong.

“We left the forest. We built a house and learned to farm. We could not call our older daughter, the fair one, by her real name. Instead we called her Page.”

Helia tipped her head to the side. Her eyes were soft. “Soon
we had another child. We named our younger daughter Annouk, an ancient name of the pack. But the name was too much for little Page to manage. She always called you Annie.”

Without Prudence on her lap, Annie wasn't sure what she would have done. Leapt to her feet and run away. Leapt into her mother's arms. Except this mother, her mother, couldn't hold her, not really.

“Why did you leave us?” She spoke the words very low, practically into the top of Prudence's head, but Helia heard her. The wolf's voice sounded tired.

“The potion wore off. You were just a baby when it happened. I returned to the pack, a wolf in a torn dress. Fristi had become a leader by then. Some of the others still wanted me punished, but she said losing my family was punishment enough.”

“You lost Sharta too,” Annie said. And then, slowly, the full force of it just dawning on her, “Sharta was my father.”

“He was a wonderful father.”

Prudence raised her head quizzically, and Annie realized she was crying and her tears were dripping all over the cat.

“When did he change back?”

“Two years after me. Perhaps he drank more of the potion than I did. Perhaps the witch did it deliberately. I don't know. He was with Jock when it happened.”

“I remember. I remember the story,” Annie clarified. She wished she could remember more. She wished she could remember her mother's human face.

“We watched you, you know, through the garret window. What we'd do for a glimpse of you and Page squabbling or laughing! It was Sharta's job to look after Page. I looked after you. I followed you sometimes, and your friend who was so curious about the world.”

“Gregor.” Tentatively, Annie leaned into the wolf's side. Her fur felt so soft. She smelled so good. “Am I what they say, the scion?”

“The prophecy of the scion is very old, handed down from mother to pup. The words may no longer mean what they once did.” Helia hesitated. “Not everyone believes in prophecies as Fristi does.”

“But you thought it might be me.”

“Yes.”

“What does the prophecy say?”

“We wrote it down for you.”

Annie sat up. “You wrote it in Hippa?”

“Not in Hippa. Hippa has no letters. Did you find the page we hid in the book?”

“I couldn't read it.”

“We wrote in ancient Frigic. No one could read it without the grammar.” She shook her head, amused. “That first year as humans we bought everything in the bookseller's wagon. We hadn't even learned to read, but we were desperate to find something that would tell us what it meant to be human. That Frigic grammar was heavy going, to say the least, but it did prove useful.”

“Page must have used it. She started to translate the prophecy.”

“She was always good with letters.” Helia sounded proud.

“I'm not,” Annie said.

“Oh, Annouk! You have so many wonderful gifts of your own!” It was such a silly, motherly thing to say, but Annie beamed. She had a mother.

Helia bumped her gently with her head.

“Why did you go to so much trouble to hide it if you wanted me to read it?” Annie asked after a moment.

Helia sighed. “Your father and I agreed on most things, but not on what to do about the prophecy. He thought you should know it, to better prepare yourself should any need arise. I thought you should be free of old stories, and find what happiness you could in the human world. Writing in code was a sort of compromise. Besides, we didn't want anyone else to read it. Do you still have the book?”

“Yes, but it's ruined.”

Helia nodded. “That's good. Better yet to burn it.”

“Now tell me what the prophecy says,” Annie said.

“I never wanted you to know.”

“Mother—”

“Once you know, you know forever.”

“Mother, tell me.”

Helia spoke the words quickly, as if she didn't like the feel of them in her mouth.

“
The Scion of darkness will bear the white mark
,

Human form, animal heart
.

Black water, radiant night
,

Torn from love, wounded life
.

Changeful child, shelter the pack
.

Brave in battle, devour the witch
.”

“Devour?” Annie said.

“Let's not think about it anymore. Let's not talk. Come, the sun is out.”

Later, as Annie was preparing for sleep, the wolf trotted over with something in her mouth. She set it down in Annie's lap.

“I've been keeping this for you.”

The red slipper had Izzy's face stitched on the toe. One of his ears was chewed. The real Izzy came over and gave the shoe a sniff. Annie ran her finger along a spray of orange thread.

“I tried many times to come for you, once it became clear the prophecy was real.”

“I know.”

“I sent guardians to protect you.”

Annie looked at Izzy, at Prue. “I know.”

“I loved you always.”

The last of the snow melted over the next few days. Annie found she could hardly stand to have her mother out of her sight. They walked together, ate together, slept side by side.
Fristi sent a messenger with news: the king's army was bearing its dead and injured back to Magnifica. Beatrice and Serena remained at the battlefield to care for wounded wolves. Brisa was recovering slowly. Rinka had declared the prophecy of the scion ridiculous. Fristi had declared Rinka ridiculous, apparently right to his face.

“And Page?” Annie asked. “Can I see her?”

“She will come to you. She is better now, and only waits for the king.”

“Waits for the king? Why?”

“I know nothing more about it.”

And what of Gibbet and his men?

Chopper, Smirch, and Pip were prisoners of the king's army. Hauler remained at large. Gibbet had begged to be transferred to the custody of the wolves, and to Annie's custody in particular.

Uncle Jock was buried where he fell in the cutting field.

Annie sat cross-legged at the entrance to the cave. She had taken the gull-rock from her dress and was tossing it from hand to hand. Helia nudged her shoulder.

“What are you thinking about, Annouk?”

Annie held the rock up to her mother's nose. “What do you smell?”

Helia sniffed. “I smell the sea. I smell you.”

“But not Gregor.”

“Your friend, do you think he is alive?”

Annie didn't answer. Then Helia said something that surprised her. “Why don't we look for him?”

“Can we?”

“Annouk, you have hundreds of wolves to direct as you wish.”

“No!” Annie shook her head, trying to dispel the panicky feeling her mother's words caused. “Just the two of us.”

“Very well. Where should we—”

“The Drop. Let's go to the Drop.”

They left after dark. Helia ran along in front, sniffing out the trail, while Annie jogged behind. After several miles they stopped to rest beside a stream. Annie recognized the clearing as the place where she had seen Gibbet speak with Rinka, so many months ago. The face reflected in the stream's surface looked older than before, more serious, but also more serene. Her hair trailed in the water as she bent to drink.

“Are you ready?” Helia was clearly enjoying the hunt.

Annie looked at her feet, suddenly shy. “Can I ride on your back? The way Page did?”

“Annouk, you don't need to ride on my back. You can run alongside me.”

“Please?”

“It will be faster if we run together.”

Annie nodded, oddly hurt. But Helia was right—they were fast, leaping over rocks and roots, the night air streaming past cool as water. They left the forest and raced along the top of the
cliff. Far below them, the dark, swollen river raced through the gorge.