19

Farewell

Bog choked. Gagged. Clawed at Small’s arm, desperate for air. Small hated him this much?

“Stop it! Small, you’re hurting him,” Hannie squealed.

She beat her fists against Small’s side. Bog kicked at his shin. Small’s arm loosened briefly.

“Quit fighting me,” Small hissed in Bog’s ear. “I’ll get us out of here.”

Bog’s eyes rolled back. The stars spun.

Then Small said louder, “I’ll kill him if you don’t do what I say.”

“You dove into the sun to protect him,” she said, her voice low and throaty, “and now you’re ready to kill him?”

“He’s a useless half-troll.” Small snarled. His tail whipped Bog’s leg.

“Let. Him. Go.” His mother spit out each word. “Now.”

“Small, please…” Hannie whined.

Small’s grip on Bog’s neck relaxed.

Bog fell to his knees, gasping and clutching his throat. He wanted to scream at Small. Did he have to strangle him?

“Bog!” Hannie’s face was in his, her breath raspberry-scented. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, unable to speak.

Hannie leapt to her feet, hands on hips. “Why did you do that?” She scolded Small. “You really hurt him.”

“He was trying to fool me,” Bog’s mother said. “He threatened Bog because he knows that I care about him—that I might let you all escape rather than see Bog hurt.”

Small gaped at Bog’s mother. “How did you know?”

Bog rubbed his throat.

“It was obvious.” His mother snorted.

Small shook the rock dust from his fur. He swiped the back of his hand across his face as if trying to clear his muddled thoughts.

“She’s hard to trick,” Bog said, his voice as gravelly as his mother’s. “She knows how trolls think.” He leaned on Small to pull himself up. “But thanks for trying.”

“Thanks for bringing me back.” Small tugged him into an embrace. As Bog inhaled Small’s musky scent, hope for Jeddal’s revival budded inside him.

Small pulled away, keeping a wary eye on Bog’s mother. “It was horrible—listening to your every word, feeling an ant crawling up my leg, but being unable to move.” He shivered.

“You could hear us?” It must be torturous for Jeddal.

Small nodded. “But you rescued me.” He examined Bog’s face. “You know I didn’t mean what I said—about you being a useless half-troll?”

“I know now,” Bog whispered, blinking back tears.

Small thumped him hard on the back. His bronze eyes were steady, warm, accepting. Bog couldn’t quite believe it.

Hannie squeezed between them, smiling. “Can we go see my aunt now?”

Small furrowed his shaggy eyebrows and pulled Bog aside. “We can’t let the Troll Hunter walk around free, even if she is your mother,” he whispered. “And how do we know she’s really going to take Hannie to her aunt? What if this aunt is no good?”

“I know.” Bog shook his head. “One of us has to keep an eye on things.” He and Hannie needed to go where Small couldn’t follow. Into the sun. Into the world of humans. Bog shuddered, wondering what awaited him.

Small studied Bog and then nodded solemnly. “Will you be safe?” He glanced at Bog’s mother.

She was leaning on her makeshift cane. With her thumb, she tapped on a palm-sized machine that had a glowing surface. Bog wondered what she was doing, although it seemed harmless enough.

“I think so.” Bog shrugged. He didn’t mention how nervous he was about going to Strongarm again, especially with his mother. Or about his plan to convince his mother to stop hunting trolls.

“Of course you’ll be safe,” Bog’s mother snapped, looking up.

But would Jeddal be safe until Bog could get to him? Bog left Small and his mother cautiously watching each other. He rummaged through the rubble and dust until he found the Nose Stone.

“Are we leaving soon, Bog?” Hannie asked.

Bog glanced at the moon, which was still rising. “I’m going to revive Hornel first.”

Bog placed the Nose Stone on Hornel’s head and held back the branches of the fir tree so that the moon’s rays brightened Hornel’s hunched back.

Soon, Small and his mother wandered over and began tying back the branches. It was a strange sight, seeing them work together, and Bog wondered how his mother was capable of harming Hornel one night and helping him the next.

Hornel’s statue glowed silver in the moonlight. Bog squatted in front, with Hannie beside him. They watched and waited.

Nothing happened.

When the moon reached the roof of the sky, Hornel was still stone.

Bog stretched his cramped muscles and rose to his feet.

“It’s not going to work, is it?” Hannie asked.

Bog glanced at Small, who shook his head.

“No, it’s not,” Bog said.

Bog touched his nose to Hornel’s stone one. Then he removed the Nose Stone.

“Small,” Bog said. “Come here. Bring your rucksack.”

Small retrieved his rucksack from the edge of the clearing where he’d abandoned it and then lumbered over.

Bog positioned himself so his back was to his mother and spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “You take the Nose Stone. Keep it safe.” He winked at Small. Then Bog tucked the Nose Stone into his own rucksack.

Small hesitated and then nodded. “If you’re sure that’s the safest place for it.”

“I’ll come for it later,” Bog said, hoping Small understood. He needed to keep the Nose Stone with him since Small didn’t know where Jeddal was. He planned to duck out as soon as he could and head for Jeddal.

“Take care of her.” Small gestured toward Hannie.

“You know I will.” Bog and Small yanked noses. “Take care of yourself.”

“You as well.”

When Small yanked noses with Hannie, her bottom lip trembled. She sobbed and then leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs as far as she could around his waist and burying her face in his neck fur.

Eventually, Small untangled from Hannie. He cast a suspicious look at Bog’s mother, holding her gaze for a long moment before he walked into the bush, heading north. Bog and Hannie watched until Small reached the crest of a hill and then disappeared. Bog bid him a silent farewell, imagining him returning home to Frantsum and the rest of the forest trolls, telling stories of their adventures and feasting under the stars.

“Let’s go,” Bog said to his mother. “Before I change my mind.”