| |
The ground trembled underfoot. Whoever pursued them, whether it was Father, Mother, or Grun, they would know the magic when they smelled it. Henry would only be safe on the water, across the waves, on those distant shores.
Those shores where—if she were to believe Henry—people like her waited for her return. But there was more to the story, and she had yet to hear it. The hope that there was something more for her, someone who wanted her for more than continuing the family line, squeezed her heart so hard it hurt.
Another crash sounded nearby, much closer than the last. She had to get them in the water and away. Now.
She flicked the wand at Henry, and the boat slid forward and into the cold water. She hurried after him, twitching the wand at herself while imagining a disguise—a bird, a squirrel, anything.
Her arms shifted into wings, shining black feathers growing from her forearms. The orange of a sunset’s glow illuminated her face below her eyes as her nose elongated into a beak, and the world grew around her as she shrank. She snatched the wand up from the ground in her beak and fluttered her wings out onto the boat, settling on the stern and watching as Henry guided them around the rocks and out into the open water away from the cliffs.
Her tiny heart pounded against her new, lighter-than-air ribcage. A bird. The wand had actually turned her into a bird. Would it turn her back? Could she be herself again?
There was no time to wonder longer, though. More cracking and crashing echoed through the trees, signaling the approach of their pursuers.
She dropped the wand into the bottom of the boat and hopped around on her thin legs, trying to keep the weight off her injury, until she could see the shoreline. Just as the Henry-boat crossed the last line of rocks and into the larger waves, three familiar figures broke through the undergrowth and onto the pebbled shore. Their gazes roved the lake, but it took several long moments for their eyes to spot the bright blue of the boat against the blue of the water at such a great distance.
But once they saw the boat, there was no holding them back. Mother and Grun immediately plunged into the waves while Father hung back, limping on one leg heavily. He’d never make it past the rocks.
Mother and Grun, on the other hand, seemed fueled by rage. Every stroke of their arms or beat of their legs brought them closer, outpacing Rue and Henry. At this rate, the family would catch them in only a few moments.
Rue hopped down into the bottom of the boat, snapping up the wand again. There had to be a way to push Henry onward even faster. The wand grew warm like rays from a morning sun, then vibrated lightly in her beak. A whirring box appeared on the stern of the boat, something spinning beneath the waves and churning the water, propelling them forward twice as fast.
She slid from the planks of the boat as it lurched forward, and she flapped against the wind, hurrying to catch up and drop into the bottom of the boat. The wind whistled by overhead, and the boat leapt up and down on the waves as they hurried away from the shore, away from the family, away from the ones who had saved her—and now were probably about to kill her.
The up and down motion of the boat grew more pronounced, and Rue’s bird stomach churned like the waves.
Then Henry shot up, and all she could see was the sky. They floated weightless for several long moments.
And then they came crashing down.
***
RUE BLINKED, THE SOLID earth still roiling around her as if it were the lake. Trees and rocks came in and out of focus and she rubbed at her eyes with scratched hands, torn fingers.
Fingers. She was human again. Which meant...
She shot to her feet and would have immediately fallen if Henry hadn’t caught her. Pain shot up her leg, and her vision flashed white.
Stars danced around Henry as he came into focus. His hand was still under her elbow, but his eyes weren’t for her. They weren’t even for the scrapes, tears, and bruises covering his own body.
She followed his gaze to two heaving masses of fur on the beach, tinged with the fire of dawn. Grun and Mother had caught them—or whatever had knocked Rue and Henry from the water also got them.
“Quick, before they wake,” Henry hissed, tugging on Rue’s elbow.
She began to yield to his pull, but something glittering white in the sand caught her attention. “The wand!”
Too loud. The masses of fur groaned, shifting in the sand. Rue gasped and grabbed the wand, then she limped after Henry, through the brambles at the tree line and into an utterly alien forest.
This wasn’t like her forest on the island, the one she had tamed and mapped, the one that embraced her with open arms.
No, this forest was dark, overgrown, forbidding. The insects hummed louder, closer. Strange animals screamed beyond her vision as if calling for her blood. Over everything, a stench of rotting things hung like a fog. Even the chill air carried winter’s bite.
She shivered and hugged herself as she limped along behind Henry. He looked strong, sure of his steps, in what little light pierced the trees.
“Where are we going?” Rue said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.
“This forest seems familiar. But anywhere away from them is good,” he responded.
As if on cue, branches snapped and cracked behind them, loud as thunder. Heavy steps thudded on the moist earth. They were coming.
Rue fought to keep her panic down, but she’d been with the family most of her life. She knew them. They were fast. Strong.
Merciless.
She tried to step quicker, fighting the pain in her torn ligaments. If they could only be safe for a few moments, maybe the wand could...
Of course, the wand!
Rue reached forward, pulling Henry to a stop. He spun, panting, eyes flicking up past her shoulder nervously.
“Rue, what—”
He didn’t have time to finish.
She tipped the wand toward him, grimacing as emotions marched across his face: confusion, fear, anger. His feet pressed into the ground as she watched, skin growing thicker, ridged, gray, smoothing to bark. Arms and neck extending, twisting, branching. Leaves sprouting the light green of spring.
And then Henry was gone, a tree in his place—witch hazel, like back in her forest.
Another crash resounded through the trees, closer, much too close. There wasn’t much time left.
She tipped the wand toward herself next, the warmth of magic spilling from the wand into her fingertips, spreading up her arm and across her body like creeping ivy. Once again, she shrank, only smaller than before when she’d become a raven. Black and yellow fuzz sprouted across her body, around new iridescent wings. Two more legs erupted from her middle, twitching as they formed. The wand dropped into the leaf litter, half covered by debris, as Rue lost her grip on it.
But then Grun and Mother barreled through the trees and into sight. Time was up.
Rue fluttered her wings once experimentally, then up into the embrace of Henry’s twisting branches. She could do little more than hope neither Mother nor Grun spotted the wand, that they were too stupid to make the connection between the wand and the tree. And once again, she’d only had time to hide, not repair her leg—still throbbing even in this bee form. Her luck truly was gone, after all these years with the family.
Mother’s eyes landed on the wand, gleaming in the dim dawn light like a beacon, and she lunged for it.
No!
Rue dove from the tree, stinger poised. At least her panicked brain had given her wings and a weapon to compensate for her injury and size.
Mother’s fingers reached the wand just as Rue’s first attack struck Mother’s face. The—Bigfoot, Henry had called them?—swatted furiously, but Rue refused to let up. She buzzed in rage, in pain, in years of fear and loneliness.
Most of all, she buzzed and stung to protect herself and her first—her only—friend.
Rue landed a particularly deep sting on Mother’s neck, tucked at the edge of the matted fur around Mother’s face. At the resulting yelp, Grun leapt forward, adding his own angry swats to the frenzy.
Rue was nothing more than a single bee against two monsters. And she was tiring.
She pulled back for another attack just as Grun’s open hand connected with her body, slamming her into Henry’s trunk. She dropped to the ground, head spinning, unable to do anything but watch as Mother reclaimed the wand and led Grun away through the trees at a furious clip.
The family was continuing their pursuit of Rue, directly away from their quarry. But their immediate safety was little comfort.
She’d seriously wrecked this escape, and now Henry was literally rooted in place. She should have listened to Mother. How many times had she told Rue that Rue was useful for nothing besides mating, if not food?
She should have stayed where she belonged. At least then she wouldn’t have ruined everything.
For a moment, she wished Henry had never washed up on her shore. But only a moment, as the memory of his arms around her came back.
But that made her ache even more.
Rue tucked herself into the leaves around Henry’s roots, wishing she could cry. Instead, all she could do was buzz mournfully.
She’d failed Henry. And herself.
