CHAPTER SIX

f it was odd just seeing the Apple Tree Man and knowing he existed, it was odder still to have him in Aunt Lillian’s house. Inside, he seemed taller than he had in the orchard. Taller, thinner. And wilder. His bird’s nest hair looked twice the size it had been, with leaves and twigs and burrs and who knew what all caught up in it. He brought with him a strange feral scent. Mostly it was of apples, but underneath was a strong musk that made me feel twitchy. His knees were too tall to go under the kitchen table we all sat around, so he had to sit to the side, those long, twisty legs stretching out along the floor.

I went and got the ’sangman and set him and his basket on the table in front of the Apple Tree Man. The little man was still unconscious, but Aunt Lillian said he seemed to be sleeping now. The Apple Tree Man agreed with her.

“They’re tough little fellows, no question,” he said. “Have to be to survive—how many stings was it?”

I was about to answer when we heard a low, mournful howl from outside. That was Root, I thought. He really didn’t appreciate being locked up in the barn with nothing but Aunt Lillian’s cow, Henny, and a handful of half-wild cats for company.

“A hundred and thirty-seven,” I said.

The Apple Tree Man nodded. “So I’m thinking he must have really ticked somebody off. Usually it’s no more than a sting or two, just as a reminder that they’re not friends, not no way, not no how.”

“Why are they feuding?” I asked.

“It’s like in the song.”

“Aunt Lillian said there was a song but she couldn’t remember it.”

“A ’sangman fell for one of the bee fairies and took her away from her hive. Everybody used to know the chorus.”