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16
Day 42
The flurries begin at dusk and fall all through the night. The next morning, I wake to drifts of snow in the courtyard. It is actually quite beautiful, like a stone garden full of white grass and icicles hanging from the fountain at the center. The wind whips through the courtyard, picking up the fluffy flakes and spiraling them into the air in little glistening cyclones. I reach in, catch a handful, and wipe it on my brown wool cloak while kicking my way through the drifts. The chill permeates my thin boots and I shiver crossing the frosted courtyard.
I’m not fully prepared for the freezing temperatures of winter on Ellery and living up so high makes it even colder. My grandfather’s cloak does its best, but periodically I dream of the large leather boots Father had acquired for me back in Balfour. I should have thought ahead. Instead, I have taken to scavenging the homes above for any animal skin to cover my body. I hit a jackpot in what looks like an avid hunter’s home. There are several animal skins I don’t recognize, among them striped skunks, a wild cat, and something that is probably a bear or other large beast. I made a pair of furry leather pants and strapped the skunks to my feet with a couple of lengths of twine. They drag at my heels because I didn’t cut the tails off. At least it made Hollis laugh for a moment. Other than that, she avoids me like I have a skin disease.
As I kick the snow from the path, I notice Hollis standing on the east side of the courtyard. I pause midstride. Her face is turned skyward, catching snowflakes on her tongue. She must have gotten the animal skins I passed along to Kava. She has the wild cat wrapped around her shoulders with a thick black pelt hanging down like a cape. Her boots are laced to her knees and snow sticks to the toe. She leaps a little to catch the next big fluffy flake. This is the Hollis I know. Joyful. Carefree, finding delight in any little thing.
There is a pain deep in my gut. I am hungry to talk to her.
She closes her mouth and looks around, catching my eye. Her demeanor descends into irritation.
“Hi.” My voice squeaks. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Hello.
She doesn’t say a word as she walks away, abandoning me in this icy place. I’m not sure what to do about her cold shoulder. She has been ignoring me for so long, I feel invisible. Weeks have passed without any acknowledgment. My sadness is being eaten away by frustration and now it boils like acid in my stomach.
The cold bites at my fingers as I ascend the stairs to the overlook where I sit every day. The snow-covered hills with their green peaks poking through the white surface remind me of mother’s creamy potato and kale soup. My belly growls in agreement. I draw a spyglass to my eye and scan the landscape, watching for any sign of Alouette, the Sky People, or anyone who can give us a hint of their whereabouts. I expect the same old nothingness. Leafless trees interspersed with evergreens dot the hills. To the east, the sun blinds me for a moment. A pillar of smoke rises wistfully from a grouping of spiky pine trees.
My breath catches in my throat. I’ve finally spotted signs of life. Leaning out over the edge of the stone rail hoping to catch a glimpse of someone among the trees, I wait and watch through the spyglass, my heart thrumming harder and harder.
Then I see it. A figure with dark hair and dark skin wrapped in something tan, probably deerskin. Without thinking, I wave and yell for several minutes, before realizing they can’t hear me. I need my contraption to get down there and talk to them.
Slamming the spyglass closed, I race back down the stairs, around the castle, through the north hall and courtyard into the room that houses my contraption. I push the old wooden door open and snow wafts in with me. There is a fireplace to the left and a room full of tall wood tables stretching as wide as the grand dining hall, but the ceiling is lower and there are rugs dispersed throughout. On the far end is a long bar with stools sidled up to it. Ellery’s version of a tavern.
Around the fireplace are auburn plush chairs and beside them sits my contraption. I lift the edges of the float. It is burned in several spots. I consider how long it will take to repair and whether the blacksmith shop will have enough coal to fill the burn bin.
The door thuds open behind me. I whirl around finding Tolliver standing in the doorway.
“Hey, little brother, what are you doing?”
“N-nothing,” I stammer, not sure what to say. The snow lashes around him, sticking to his black hooded cloak, his face in partial shadows.
“I saw you run by in a hurry. What are you excited about?” Tolliver swipes the hood from his head.
“I saw people on the ground,” I admit.
“And you think you’re going to fly down and talk to them?”
My head pounds with frustration, “Maybe.” I don’t want him to ask me questions. I don’t want him watching my every move. I think about how nice it would have been if no one had come with me on this trek, so no one could stop me from doing what I must do to find Alouette.
“Don’t bother,” he says. “Let’s survive this, Ledger. We can’t do that if you’re going to take unnecessary risks. Going down there right now is pointless, even if that stupid thing is functional. We calculated they went missing eight weeks before reaching Balfour.”
I want to argue with him, but his logic is flawless. “I’m just sick of being up here, doing nothing for weeks on end,” I blurt.
“If you want something to do, I can give you a task. There are plenty of things you can do to make life easier as we chase your wild dreams around the world.” His blunt words hit me like a fist to the face.
My anger flows in a torrent of complaints. “I’m sick of you telling me what to do,” I yell. “Hollis hates me. Kava hates me. You keep acting like Father, and Angus is like your personal mule. I’ve got no one and nothing—not even hope! You are snatching that away and I’m sick of it!” Out of breath, I stop, instantly regretting every word. I wish I could reach out, grab the words from the air like fluffy snowflakes, and put them back in my mouth.
Tolliver is taken aback, eyes wide and mouth open.
My head hurts as if it might burst. My eyes sting, but I refuse to let any tears fall. I brace myself for the lash back.
Tolliver inspects me. I hate the way he looks at me, concerned. Ready to fix it all. But he can’t. No one can. I’m stuck here on this frigid island and all I can do is wait.
I’m done waiting. I can’t take the impending conflict and to avoid more judgments and commands, I stomp past him out the door. I race back to my post on the lookout tower with defiant tears and clenched teeth. The pillar of smoke is nearing. We will probably pass them by sunset.
I don’t care what Tolliver thinks. I will fix my contraption and I will get to the ground. I’ve been in a holding pattern my whole life. Since I met Alouette, I’ve had to wait month after month for her to return for a few days of satisfaction. I am forced to be passive and powerless.
My hands shake with cold and fury as I hold up the spyglass again. Beyond the smoke, I see water. Lots of it.
