32

Fool-Hardy

CALLA CURIOUSLY WATCHED THE SWIRL-EAR retreat. There’s no way… A swirl-ear, this far out of Tallstalks? It had to be another type of lark.

But just as she finished the thought the lark glanced back at her. It steadily met her gaze as if to say, Yes, I am real.

Beside her, Mischief growled. “Easy,” Calla told the twig-trots. She glanced back in time to see the flick of the swirl-ear’s curled tail before she was gone, vanishing deep within the dark and twisty plants of the Agrestal.

“Calla!” Saffron called, followed by Oakbur, Spruce, and other guards.

Calla waved her over and the group joined the others in their pursuit.

Saffron gasped for air as she caught up. “This darn village is so big,” she heaved, as she slicked back sweat from her forehead, “but it seems like your group caught up to him.” She glanced in the direction the guards had vanished. “Well, at least before he escaped again.”

Calla looked at her, still bewildered. “I just saw something weird. I mean, I saw a lot of weird things today, but I saw swirl-ear!”

“All the way out here?” Saffron said. “Are you sure?”

Calla nodded. Those larks were quite reclusive, even more so than the mosshrew of Dimrest. But Calla knew them primarily for their lesser-known claim to fame. They were one of the few larks capable of sensing magic. Some even possessed the ability to sense spells and enchantments that had been cast centuries ago.

Why they chose to burrow deep within the deepest corners of Tallstalks and avoid contact with other societies, was beyond the knowledge of any lark.

Saffron furrowed her brow. “This just gets weirder,” she said, gazing at the wreckage before them. “I can’t believe we didn’t know this about Mom’s past, but I guess it makes sense—to have a friend to relate to.”

Calla felt a small tug in her chest. I know how true that is. “Well, I guess everyone has their secrets.”

“Still feels wrong, you know. And then that Rowan,” she spat. “If that’s even his real name! I bet he’s not even from Knotrest, like he said.” She kicked a rock. “All this time I worked beside him, and not a peep about this. He just acted like he was some new, tender-hearted Keeper from little old Knotrest. Bleh! What a creep!”

Calla looked at her. “I guess we finally know why Thimble warmed up to him. Even underneath that magic disguise, she recognized him.” She looked at Saffron. “Maybe Mom even brought her along for their searches here.”

But even a twig-trots ability to sense magic had its limits, they struggle with sniffing out anything older than a few months, nay years. Thus, Thimble had failed to find the Spindlehearth.

Saffron gazed at the little purple wisps of magic that escaped the wreckage boards. “I still have so many questions.”

Calla agreed. Even now, it felt like a chasm of questions had opened in her mind, questions she needed answers to. Answers that only Rowan had.

Saffron eyed her warily. “I don’t like that look on your face.”

“We have to go after him,” Calla said firmly.

Saffron blinked. “Pardon?”

Calla fidgeted and turned back to where the caster had vanished. Dark spool-like wisps escaped from the cracked and strewn debris around them, curling into the air until they faded into nothingness.

Saffron looked at her in disbelief. “Calla, I don’t even know where to begin—”

Calla held up a hand. “I know it’s foolhardy but listen. You heard what Oakbur said. Rowan actually knew Mom, and they’ve worked together to find some powerful artifact that shouldn’t exist but apparently does. How are we supposed to return home knowing that. That’s huge!”

Saffron frowned. “Calla, I don’t think we can. I mean you heard what he did to those guards. And look at the wreckage around us. It would be beyond foolish to pursue him.” There was sympathy in her eyes. “I want answers just as much as you but…maybe this part of her past should just stay buried.”

Calla took a breath, then steadily met her gaze. “It’s not just about learning about her past with Rowan or the Spindlechest,” she admitted. “I just have a feeling that this may be our only chance to find out what really happened to her that morning.”

Saffron went very still.

The two sisters had hardly spoken of their mother’s absence, and when they had; it was never this direct. Calla could hardly believe what she’d just said herself, but the words had tumbled out.

It was the morning their mother had failed to return—the day Calla lost not only her mother but also her connection with Saffron. It was also the day Calla first felt a strange sense of loneliness in her heart that never left—the same loneliness that pushed her to run away from Red Heath in hopes of escaping it.

Now, there was stillness in the fallen village as the two sisters stood in the middle of the paved road. One direction led towards Runnelloom, the other led in the direction the guards and Rowan had gone.

Saffron studied her. “I don’t know, Calla. What if we’re wrong? What if this turns out to be a big mistake?”

“But we need to try,” Calla said. She stuck out her hand. “To trying something foolhardy?”

Saffron hesitated for a moment, then shook her hand. “To trying something beyond foolhardy.”

They turned to see the guards streaming back towards them. Going by their irritated and angry expressions, Calla deduced Rowan had indeed escaped again.

Saffron turned to Calla. “How are going to find him now?”

Calla glanced back at the brush, where the swirl-ear had disappeared. She grinned.

“I think I know where to start.”