I couldn’t get back to sleep. I just skimmed the surface of sleep and I couldn’t or didn’t dare dive into it. Every time I was about to, my heart would start jumping hurdles again, and none of my attempts to reassure it worked.
Stop that. It was just a dream, I told myself.
Bang-bang-JUMP. Bang-bang-JUMP.
She’s not here. She was never here. No one has seen her for four hundred years, and it really was a bit far-fetched to imagine she’d come back just to ruin my thirteenth birthday…
Stupid heart.
Eventually, I got up. I didn’t turn on the light; there was no need to disturb Oscar. I carefully stepped over the duvet that almost covered his leg – three or four not very clean toes were sticking out from under the stripy duvet cover. Having nightmares tonight of all nights was ridiculous because everything was going really well – we were at my Aunt Isa’s, Oscar, me, and my mum and my dad – and that in itself was a miracle. Tomorrow Kahla and her dad would be coming as would Mrs Pommerans, my aunt’s wildwitch neighbour who had helped me a lot a few weeks ago when things were looking seriously bleak. Shanaia had sent a message with the kestrel Kitti, her new wildfriend, that she would visit, too. And The Nothing was here. Cat was currently off on one of his adventures, but had promised to be back around breakfast, and Bumble was probably sound asleep in his basket downstairs, snoring his doggy head off. I’d been allowed to have exactly the birthday I wanted, with all the people and animals I wanted. I’d been so excited about it that it really was ridiculous – ridiculous! – to get worked up over a silly dream.
I put on a pair of ragged old wool socks that served as slippers whenever I visited Aunt Isa. Aunt Isa had sewn a felt sole under each sock, so the cold wouldn’t seep through when my feet touched the chilly floor. In an oversized T-shirt, bare legs and those woolly socks, I made my way quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen. By now it was quarter to four; I could tell the time from the clock above the kitchen table.
I opened the cupboard where Aunt Isa kept her supply of herbal teas. Many of them we drank purely because of their taste, but some had other properties. One or two might even calm a racing heart. I was a long way from understanding all of Aunt Isa’s herbal remedies, but I had learned a bit. If only I could find… I studied the neat labels on tins and caddies until I spotted the two I was looking for.
Chamomile and valerian.
I turned on the hob and put the kettle on. Aunt Isa often used the wood burner in the living room, but I liked having a button I could press. The gas flame flickered blue and orange as it licked the bottom of the kettle and it didn’t take long before it started rumbling. I fetched a mug from the hooks by the window and it was at that moment, just as I was turning back to the cooker, that I spotted something moving.
Outside in the darkness. A glimpse, just a glimpse of glowing eyes with vertical feline pupils.
“Cat?” I whispered softly.
But it wasn’t Cat; I knew it the moment I uttered his name. Outside I could hear a low, singing yowl like the noise two alley cats might make when sizing each other up, only somehow… bigger.
I listened without moving. The water was boiling now, but the chamomile tea would just have to wait. Was there a feral cat out there in need of help?
I tried to peer through the window into the darkness, but could only see my own reflection. The golden eyes I’d seen were gone, yet the caterwauling went on. The animal – whatever it was – was still there.
If I opened the window, I’d be able to see and hear better. I lifted the hasps and pushed open the window, and a cool breath of night air smelling of rain wafted towards me. I leaned across the kitchen table, trying to see in the darkness.
At that moment a silent, grey-brown shadow came swooping towards me, a yellow beak, light-brown legs and clutching grey talons. I just managed to raise my arm in time so the big owl could land on it.
“Hoot-Hoot!”
Aunt Isa’s wildfriend tilted his head and studied me. I wasn’t sure that he liked what he saw. He’d never approached me like that before and, except for a few occasions when Aunt Isa had asked me to hold him – and he’d allowed himself to be held – I’d never been that close to him. He was big – by now I’d learned that he wasn’t just “an owl”, but a great horned owl. It meant that he was both rare and protected – though I don’t think he was aware of it – and although I wasn’t exactly scared of him, I maintained a healthy respect for talons, beaks and flapping wings. He too smelt of rain, and of wet feathers and blood, and the powerful talons now gripping my wrist had probably just taken the life of some poor mouse. But he turned carefully, without piercing my skin, hooting softly out into the darkness from which he’d just emerged.
The cat noise outside stopped. I heard something rustle in the bushes behind the apple trees, and then there was silence. All in all, none of this was any more peculiar than so many of the experiences I’d had when visiting Aunt Isa.
Except for just one thing.
I’d understood everything. I’d been able to feel the impatience of the cat screeching across my brain like a nail across a blackboard. And I’d heard Hoot-Hoot’s warning, just as clearly as if someone had shouted it over a speaker system:
Go away, cat. You are too early. This is not the time.
“Clara. Did you let Hoot-Hoot in?”
I turned carefully so the owl wouldn’t lose his balance.
“It looks that way…” I said.
Aunt Isa was standing in the doorway in her old dressing gown, which might once have been red, but was now a sort of faded pink.
“He’s probably a bit confused,” my aunt said. “I normally leave my bedroom window open, but…”
But that wouldn’t be a good idea tonight. My mum and dad were using her bedroom, and Aunt Isa was sleeping on the sofa in the living room.
“… your mum probably wouldn’t appreciate being woken up by a wet owl…”
Hoot-Hoot shook his wings, spraying us with pearls of rain. I couldn’t help giggling.
“No, I don’t suppose she would.”
“But what’s up with you, Clara? Couldn’t you sleep?”
I shook my head.
“I had a strange dream. A nightmare, I guess you’d say.”
Aunt Isa raised her eyebrows.
“About an animal?”
“No. No, I don’t think it was about animals. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’ll be thirteen tomorrow,” she said. “Or rather… later today. It’s a special birthday for a wildwitch and sometimes…” She hesitated as if she couldn’t find the right words. “… Sometimes it brings with it special experiences or dreams about animals. But you said there were no animals in your dream?”
“No. It was… I think it was about… Oh, I don’t know.”
While we’d been chatting, the dream had quietly faded away. The details were gone. Someone had been very angry… someone had been trapped… someone had talked about blood. I wasn’t keeping anything back on purpose; I genuinely couldn’t remember anything very clearly now. My heart had calmed down and was beating normally again; I smothered a yawn.
“Looks like you won’t be needing that after all,” Aunt Isa said, pointing to the chamomile and valerian caddies.
“No,” I said. “I think I might just go back to bed.”
I raised my arm a little; Hoot-Hoot took off carefully and flew to his usual spot on Aunt Isa’s shoulder.
“Well, good night again,” Aunt Isa said with a faint smile. She checked the clock. “It’s technically your birthday now, but I think I’ll wait to wish you a happy birthday until the next time you wake up.”
Birthday. Now why did that word make me more worried than happy? Hoot-Hoot looked at me with his orange-golden eyes, then polished his beak on his chest feathers.
This is not the time.
What did it mean? Had Hoot-Hoot even “said” that just as loud and clear as when Cat “spoke” to me? Or had I made up the whole thing because I was tired and hadn’t had enough sleep?
I put the tea caddies back in the cupboard and returned to my room. I carefully stepped across Oscar, who was still lost to the world, crept into bed and slipped under my still-warm duvet. A few minutes later I was fast asleep.