If an owl calls out a name, that person soon will die.

I heard scufflin below me, but I didn’t dare look down. Then, a muffled cry, and the scarred boy said, “I don’t know where it come from. It were over by them tulip trees. When we was walkin over to here, I jus picked it up.”

“Yer lyin,” the woman-man shouted. “You saw them girls, and they’s a reward for one of them. Which way did they go?”

No answer. I could hear someone whippin him, then yellin, and then some quiet, but still no answer. Were he goin to tell on me to save hisself from more beatin?

Even if he told, Zenobia would still be safe up here. Nobody knowed about her.

My heart thudded, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I wanted to open my eyes and look up to Zenobia again, just to feel like someone were with me, but I stayed still. Closed inside myself.

Mama, I thought, what is goin to happen to your girl now?

The man spoke up. “Let im be,” he said. “We need to get im back fit to work or we won’t get no reward.”

The woman-man said, “This place been nothin but trouble for us. I come here thinkin it to be a good spot, all hid out under this big tree, water for the takin, but I’m not feelin safe.”

A warm breeze lifted my hair like thin fingers was rufflin through it. Goose bumps stood up on my arms. Mama, I thought, is that your sperrit tellin me to hold on?

I held on but shook like a cottonwood leaf in a wind. Dust rose from all the commotion below me. I heard feet scufflin through leaves, talkin, and then the clop, clop, clop of the old horses movin slowly away.

Were Pa and my brothers somewhere nearby watchin for us? Me and Zenobia waited and waited, never passin a word to one another. Dark settled. I looked at Zenobia’s wide eyes, then up through the tree at the comfort of the moon. It looked like it were snared in the branches.

“Zenobia,” I whispered, “think we safe now? C’mon.”

“Oh Lordy,” she whispered. “Not bad enough climbin up, but now I gots to climb down, and in the dark.”

“Stop your frettin and let your feet and hands find their way.”

“Got your sling of food and bundle, my sack of food, and my tired body to move. I hope I don’t do no flyin like last time.”

“Just pay attention and talk to the tree. Thank it for givin us shelter.”

“Thank ya, old tree,” Zenobia sang quietly. “Thank ya for leaves and shade, and—” Crack. I heard the sound of wood splittin. Leaves and twigs showered onto me.

“Oh, Lark, I’m scairt to the bone. I cain’t move.”

“Come on, trouble girl. You sure don’t have no choice but to come down or go up, and I cain’t see how goin up will help you much. We got dark now, and we gots to move on while it’s safe. Now, stay quiet.”

I stood on the broad limb and reached up and patted Zenobia’s bare foot.

“You’re doin fine. Keep comin slow and easy-like, slow and easy, no hollerin and no flyin.”

“You take your sack,” she whispered as she swung it down to my branch.

I slid the sack onto my back next to my sling, thrust my leg into the black between the limbs, and felt for safe footin. I touched onto the smooth branch below me so’s the steppin down come easy. First one foot, then another.

“It’s not bad, Zenobia.” Could she hear the shakin in my voice?

She sniffled above me.

“I wants to find my ma and papa, hold my baby sister again. I misses them till my heart burstin. But all I’m goin to do is end up broke into pieces or fish food in the crick.”

“Quit feelin sorry for yerself.” Although I were feelin right sorry for my own self. “We need to get away from here and find somewhere safe to hide for tomorrow, so climb down.”

“I’m hungry,” she whined.

“I’m hungry too, but we not safe around here. No tellin if Pa is close, if the dogs catches our smells again, or what—”

Crack. Zenobia flew past me, nearly knockin me off the limb. Fallin, fallin, down, down, just like my Hannah doll, without a sound. I heard her hit the ground with a loud thump, and then nothin.

My foot slipped. I caught myself, my heart poundin till it near jumped out of me. Were Zenobia hurt? Dead?

I felt my way slowly, brushin the limb with my feet, steppin down till I dropped from the last branch onto the sandy, leaf-covered soil. Zenobia and her sack laid like a heap of rags at the base of the tree.

“Zenobia? Trouble girl, answer me. Sorry, so sorry. You was so scairt, I should’ve helped you more.” I bent over her and wiped the leaves and dirt from her face. Her arm were twisted behind her. Her eyes shut.

“Zenobia? Answer me, girl. You was so brave. Fallin like that and not a sound from you.” A wind rustled through the sycamore leaves, and shiftin moon shadows washed acrost her bloodied face.

I laid my ear against her chest and tried to hear her heartbeat through the thickness of the night sounds. I shivered. Were somethin or someone watchin us? Then came a long dry shriekin cry, as cuttin and cold as a splinter of ice. I hunched over Zenobia’s still body to protect her and looked all around us, up and down. Nothin stirred except the leaves.

Another shriekin. A pale barn owl, its heart-shaped face lookin down on us, flew by on silent wings and landed in the branches above.

“Night sperrit, don’t you be callin out her name!” I shouted, shakin my fist up toward him. “I knows what happens when you calls a name.”

“Zenobia. Trouble girl.” I whispered so’s the owl couldn’t hear me. “We just found each other. We was like sisters. Now look what you gone and done.”