Selfish Elf Wish (25 page)

I see his left wrist begin the inward twirl. I jab my stick into the ground by the base of the tree and jump, kicking my legs up so his spell will miss me. When I land, I spin around and yell, “Limp fish!” zapping in his direction.

But Clay is fast. His right arm comes up. “Backfire!” he shouts and deflects my spell.

I look toward Dawn, to make sure she’s not about to zap me, but she stands still, cradling the cage in her arms while the fox crouches and hisses. Then a snarl erupts from the tree line. We all whip around as a dark shadow leaps from the rocks above. I don’t know if it’s a coyote, a mountain cat, or a wolf, but I don’t wait to find out. I crouch with my stick over my head while the thing tackles Clay and brings him to the ground. As they wrestle, I whip around on Dawn again. I run as fast as I can toward her, twirling my wrist and yelling, “Stone still!” I zap her and she freezes.

Behind me I hear the grunts and yelps of Clay wrestling the animal. With my stick in front of me and my knees bent I turn toward them, ready to protect myself from either one, when I see what has Clay pinned down. “Timber!” I scream.

Timber crouches on top of Clay, his back curved into the arch of an angry animal and his teeth bared. When I call his name, he flashes at me with wild eyes. “I’ve got him! You get the fox!” I yell.

Timber leaps off Clay’s body and runs across the forest floor faster than I’ve ever seen him move. I lunge toward Clay and zap. “Stone still!” I yell, freezing him in an awkward half stoop, one arm on the ground, one moving toward me with his wrist turned inward, midspell. I have no idea how long my spells will last, so I spin around and dart toward Timber, who’s pushed frozen Dawn to the ground and grabbed the cage. “Run!” I scream. “Run! Run! Run!”

We tear through the forest. This time Timber’s close at my heels. I lead him deep into the woods, dodging branches, hurdling roots, sidestepping snow-covered rocks and stumps. We sprint for at least five full minutes until I’m sure Clay and Dawn won’t be able to follow us. Ahead I see an old sugar shack and I immediately know where I am. We’re only a fifteen-minute run to Alverland, but I know we both need rest. I grab Timber’s arm and pull him into the dark hut.

We collapse onto the soft dirt ground, both struggling to catch our breath. As our eyes adjust to the rays of sun slanting into the shack through the slatted roof, we look at each other and dissolve into hysterical laughter.

“Shhh! Shhh!” I try to hush as we roll, clutching our sides, but I can’t stop it either.

“What the . . . ?” Timber says over and over between guffaws. “What the hell just happened?”

I’m laughing so hard that I’m crying, but not because this is funny. “I don’t know, I don’t know!” I say. I can’t explain how any of this happened or why I’m in our sugar shack with a small, frightened fox and Timber, who can run like a wolf. And when we finally both calm down enough to catch our breath, we clutch each other and I begin to cry.

“It’s okay,” Timber says, stroking my hair. “We’re fine. We got away.”

I try to fight back the tears, but I’m so confused and overwhelmed that the tears keep on coming. Timber holds me tight and lets me cry until I’m all cried out and I can talk again.

“You were amazing,” I say, stroking his soft hair.

“Me? You’re like some crazy woodland ninja girl. Oh my God! You were flipping and spinning and I don’t know what you were doing, but it was freaking badass . . .”

“What were you doing out of the cave?” I ask him.

“I heard you shriek, then I heard rocks falling. I was worried about you. Kenji fell asleep, so I came alone. I saw you at the bottom of that hill. I tried to call to you, but you didn’t hear. So I followed you. That’s when I saw Clay and Dawn going after you.”

I let go of Timber and sit up. “Oh no,” I say. “Kenji’s still up there and Clay and Dawn will start moving again.” I scramble to my feet. “I have to get help. You have to stay here. This time you have to promise me you’ll stay because I need you to take care of this fox. It’s very important.”

Timber starts to stand up. “I can’t let you go out there by yourself again.”

“No.” I hold out my hand to stop him. “I can take care of myself. We’re really close to my house and I can go faster alone. No one will find you here if you’re quiet. I need you to take care of this little guy.” I look over at the fox, who’s curled in a ball, hiding its snout in his tail.

Timber frowns but he says, “Okay. I will, but . . .”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I step forward and kiss him. “And Timber,” I say as I push open the door.

“Yes?” he says.

“I love you, too!” Then I bolt.

 

By the time I get to Alverland fifteen minutes later, it’s clear that everyone knows something’s wrong. My uncles and oldest male cousins gather in the clearing in front of Grandma Fawna’s with their bows and arrows. The older girl cousins hurry the little kids into Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I see Aunt Flora scurrying across the clearing with an armload of dried herbs. “Where’s my dad?” I yell to her.

When Flora sees me, she drops the herbs and runs toward me. “Thank Mother Earth. You’re safe!” She wraps me in a hug. “Where are the others?”

My uncles, aunts, and grandfather gather around me. I try to explain everything as quickly and as clearly as I can. In an instant, the men fan out, forming search parties. Some are already tracking Clay and Dawn. Others will bring Timber and the fox back to Alverland. My dad, Briar, and Grove have gone to Barnaby Bluff to get Kenji. The oldest girls bundle up and are sent in twos with their bows and arrows and small bags of signal herbs to the other settlements to warn everyone that we’ve been infiltrated. If they see Clay and Dawn along the way, they’re to light the bags and throw them in the air to signal where they are, then they’re to disappear into the woods and hide. My grandfather gives them permission to use their bows and arrows to defend themselves. Then Flora leads me inside Grandma’s house.

Fawna presides over a huge cauldron where my aunts mumble chants and toss in herbs. “You’re back,” she says calmly as I charge into the kitchen.

“Are Mom and Willow here?” I ask.

Fawna smiles gently at me. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” Aunt Flora pulls off my cloak, soaking now from the melting snow.

“But I have to warn them,” I say, trying to get out the door again.

Fawna holds up her hand. “They can take care of themselves. Your mother’s magic is very powerful, my dear.”

“I’ll get you a dry tunic,” Flora says.

“My friends,” I say to Fawna. “I shouldn’t have left them. I should have . . .”

Fawna lays her hands on my quivering shoulders. “You did the right thing. I’m very proud of you. Your friends will be found.”

I bury my face in my hands. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Grandma comes to my side and rubs my back. “None of us do yet.”

I peer up through my wet, tangled hair. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“No,” she says simply.

I struggle with this. “They followed us.”

“You can’t control what other people do.”

I drop into a chair, exhausted. “We got the fox,” I say. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at me.

My grandmother smiles. “Excellent!”

“It’s with Timber in the sugar shack,” I tell them.

Fawna’s face falls. She scowls. “How could you leave it with him?”

“Timber saved me . . .” I say. “He’s the only reason I was able to get the fox from Clay and Dawn.”

Grandma Fawna sighs, then she rubs the polished stone amulet around her neck. “This is unexpected,” she says. She leans down and studies my face. “Tell me everything that happened again.”

The whole story floods out of me, in more detail this time. How we took Kenji and Timber to the bluff. How I left them, and how I fell. How Clay and Dawn tried to zap me. How Timber leaped out of the trees.

“I see,” says Fawna when I’m done. She thinks this over for quite a while. “I think I’ve underestimated your friend Timber.”

“I knew you didn’t like him,” I tell her.

“You’re right, but there’s a reason.”

“Just because he’s an erdler . . .” I say, and sniffle.

“No, Zephyr, that’s not why,” Grandma Fawna says. Flora comes back with a dry tunic and leggings for me. “Put these on,” Fawna says as she rises to put the kettle over the fire. “Then we’ll have a nice, long talk over a cup of tea.”

I CURL UP
in Grandma’s rocking chair under a heavy blanket with the fire roaring in front of me. Fawna sits across from me in Grandpa’s matching rocker. As usual, she looks as calm as a clear blue sky, even though all around us everything is falling apart. I can’t muster any interest in the lady slipper tea with honey or the dried-blueberry rusk she’s put on my lap. I should be famished after all the running and zapping I did, but my appetite is gone. I’m too worried about Briar, my mom, Willow, Kenji, and especially Timber.

“Worrying yourself sick won’t help,” Grandma tells me for the millionth time when she sees me frowning into the steam coming off my tea.

“But what if . . . ?” I start to say.

“What-ifs never help.”

“Grandma!” I set my tea down. “You’re killing me. How can you be so calm? What is it that you need to tell me about Timber.”

“I think it’s time you know the truth about him.” Grandma leans forward and rests her hands on her knees. I lean forward and hold my breath. “He carries a troubling mark, but before I can explain, I have to back up.”

“Argh!” I moan and flop back in my seat. Everything has to be a history lesson with her. But I know that the quicker I shut up and listen, the quicker she’ll get to the point.

She absently rubs one of her amulets between her thumb and forefinger as she explains. “You see, a very long time ago all the magical creatures of the world and the erdlers intermingled quite easily. If you listen to any of the old erdler stories, they even talk about it. The wolf in ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ The troll in ‘Three Billy Goats Gruff.’ The giant in ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’ Nowadays, erdlers think those stories are only children’s play. But they aren’t. They’re true, or as true as any old story can be.” She sits back and rocks easily as she talks. “They’ve probably been changed over time, but as you know, things such as gnomes and pixies and fairies really did exist.”

“What’s this have to do with Timber?” I ask, impatient for her to get on with it.

She holds up her hand and, as usual, is in no hurry. “Erdlers can be quite an aggressive bunch when they feel threatened,” Grandma says with a sigh. “It’s one of their worst traits. So the erdlers of old simply eradicated the beasts they didn’t like. Some of the more peaceful creatures, like elves, well, we just slipped away and formed our own quiet communities out of the erdlers’ way. But then some creatures decided they liked the erdler world better with all its gadgetry and motion. They decided to pass.”

“Pass what?” I ask.

“Pass as erdlers,” she explains. “So some fairies, pixies, ogres, shape-shifters, what have you, slowly drifted away into erdler life. They didn’t use their magic anymore, so no one suspected them.”

“Elves, too?” I ask.

“Oh sure,” she says. “Many elves have done that over the centuries. They’ve walked away from our settlements to live among the erdlers. Like your family did. The difference is that no one ever came back. Until you, of course.”

“Like your cousin Hyacinth?” I ask.

Grandma nods, but she looks uncertain. “Not everyone who left turned dark, though.”

I shift uncomfortably. “After all the trouble we’ve caused today, I think I know why the others never came back.”

Grandma nods. “Mixing together can certainly complicate the world.” She sips her tea then continues. “Eventually those who walked away intermarried with the erdlers and had children and never let on that they had another side. Their children were half magical, then the next generation was a quarter magical, and so on until their natural ability for magic became so diluted that erdlers carrying any of these marks wouldn’t know they had it.”

I sit up straight with my heart revving. “Are you saying Timber is part elf?” I ask hopefully.

She shakes her head. “No, dear, I’m not.”

I slump back. “Then what is he, Grandma?”

“A
hamrammer
,” she says.

I look at her blankly. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a kind of shifter,” she says slowly. “One who takes an animal form. They could take many different forms—bears, dogs, boars . . .”

“So what’s Timber?” I ask, sitting now on the edge of my chair.

“Wolf,” she says.

I fall back, making the chair rock as I think about his eyes, his smile, the way I’ve felt he wanted to devour me. “But . . . but . . . but . . .” I sputter.

“There’s a very contentious history between elves and the
hamrammers
, especially the wolf people, or werewolves as erdlers like to call them, but that sounds a bit silly to me. Like something out of those vampire stories everyone goes on about.”

“Were vampires real?” I ask, creeped out now.

“Heavens no!” she says with a snort. “That’s just erdler fantasy made up to sell lots of books.”

I shake my head. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m not as clueless as you think, Zephyr. I watch that TV contraption in your house and I sometimes even read the newspaper.”

“Whoa.” I shake my head at the thought of my grandmother watching
Entertainment Tonight
and reading the
Daily News
. “But what I mean is, how do you know this about Timber? How can you be sure?”

“I can see the mark he carries,” she says. “I don’t know how to explain it to you beyond that. It’s part of my power, I suppose.”

Still skeptical, I ask, “Do you see marks on other erdlers?”