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Rue gave her wings one more solid flap before landing on a red bud, not quite open yet. Just over the next rise was the company, or so Henry said. Ironically, the company Rue’s—Aimee’s—family owned was a bee farm. An apiary. That explained the tiny bee logo on the pendants.
Rue stretched her tired wings. She had no idea how far she’d flown. An ache spread down from the tips of her wings into their base, but she was close, so close.
Her heart fluttered. She was closer than she’d ever been to the truth. No matter her form, that was anxiety-inducing.
She took a deep breath, this time without choking. The air here was herby and floral rather than full of the decay of the forest behind her. Then, she flapped her wings and took off from the branch.
She broke through the last of the trees and into the bright morning sunshine. A meadow of wildflowers and tall grass spanned the distance between the forest and the buildings of the apiary. They were all straight and square, so different from the burrow and Rue’s haven. The early morning sun bathed the space in honey-gold light, drenching a symbol on the side of the building that matched Rue’s pendant.
This was it. Her real family’s home.
And there, in the middle of the field, Mother and Grun. They recklessly barreled through the wildflowers, flattening stems as they made their way toward the buildings and the humming hives. Did they recognize the symbol too? Were they looking for her there?
Rue took a deep breath. This was it. There could be no more hesitating. Mother had the wand—their only chance at rescue—and Rue’s real family was here.
She fluttered her wings, bobbing through the seeds and pollen in the air, across the waving flowers, following Mother’s and Grun’s path of destruction through the field. She needed some kind of distraction, something long enough to get her inside the buildings and find her real mother, the woman from the locket who looked so much like Rue.
The same woman who had the power to stop Mother, to take the wand away, to restore Rue and Henry.
Rue bobbed across the sea of flowers, too focused to appreciate them, too afraid to slow down. Eventually, the hives took notice, sending scouts out toward her to investigate. Her bee brain interpreted their language of dance, and she responded with a plea for help. There wasn’t much time, and there certainly wasn’t much she could do alone. Yet somehow, she had to convince them to help her, to help their keeper, to maybe even be the distraction she needed.
Mother suddenly roared in pain and rage, veering off her path to the buildings and toward the neat row of hives, flapping her arms as she ran. Still roaring, she grabbed the closest hive, shoving it so violently that it flew through the air as far as the burrow had been long. The hive exploded in a splatter of honey and a cloud of angry bees.
Well there was the distraction.
The steady hum of the hives intensified to an angry roar. A stream of uncontrolled rage spilled around Mother and Grun, and it was all Rue could do to avoid being squished by the horde.
It was enough. The bees had bought her time, and Rue would take advantage of it.
She darted for the buildings, zipping along the shining, clear windows that let her look in—but not enter. She hit the first one hard, not expecting the glass separating her from the strange room within. She’d occasionally seen broken pieces of glass washed up on her shore, but this was the first time she’d seen it used in construction.
Shaking her head lightly, she caught herself before she hit the ground and bobbed toward the next covered hole in the wall. This room was dark too, empty. She could feel the cold radiating through the barrier.
Grun suddenly let loose a fearsome growl, and Rue glanced back. The two Bigfoots were engaged in an all-out war with the bees, but how long could that last?
A shudder rippled through her. She had to keep looking for a person, a clue, a way in.
Rue bobbed past a straight, solid wood door, then drifted up until she could see into the next room.
Success!
A woman—one who could be Rue herself in a few years, based on appearance alone—stood at a shining table, slicing through bright, fragrant fruits she could smell even on the other side of the glass. The woman hummed as she chopped, the sound soft and muffled. A row of vases lined the sill inside, almost obscuring Rue’s view.
Grun roared again, louder this time, and her head shot up as she looked through the window. Something glittered around the woman’s fingers as she flicked them toward her work station, and the fruit slices stood on their own, marching across the table and into a bowl.
Magic!
The woman made her way toward the window, not even watching the remarkable thing she’d done. And every clue said this was the woman Rue needed. But how could she get the woman’s attention?
Her wing tapped the glass as she beat them to keep herself aloft, releasing a satisfying thunk from the glass.
Perfect.
Rue drifted back, glancing toward the hives. The roars had subsided, but even here the sound was subdued. Couldn’t the woman hear the commotion at all?
She looked back through the window, trembling. Her plan would hurt, but what choice did she have?
Rue rammed the glass. And again. And again. Hoping she was making enough of a ruckus to attract the woman’s attention. Each beat against the glass was weaker than the last, slower. Her body hurt, her leg screaming in pain. She let herself settle on the tiny ledge outside the glass, defeated.
She was so close. She couldn’t just give up now. Henry was counting on her. And this woman was in danger. Mother and Grun may have started out looking for Rue, but they must have recognized the symbol on the building, linked it to their “flotsam,” and decided to follow it. The woman and anyone else inside were in grave danger.
Yet Rue was here, stuck on the ledge, trapped on the outside where she could do nothing.
Something creaked next to her, and then a voice spoke, close to her. “You okay, little guy?”
Rue turned toward the voice but could do little except stare at the woman as she leaned out the window next to Rue.
Rue’s heart slammed into her thorax. It was her. There could be no doubt. The same stormy tint and shape to the eyes, the same nose and chin. The woman’s hair was even the same deep, earthy tone as Rue’s.
It had to be true.
Shaking, Rue crept forward, keeping her weight off the injured leg. “Mother?”
But of course it merely came out as a buzz, a flutter of wings, a melancholy dance. The wand had allowed her to understand the language Henry spoke, but apparently only Henry could understand her.
Despair washed over her like the waves of the lake, slamming into her so hard she nearly collapsed on the ledge. Once again, she was so close and yet so far away.
Another crash split the air with a crack of wood and crescendo of angry buzzing. The woman’s eyes snapped up, across the field toward the hives, and grew wide as she took in Mother and Grun. There was no surprise in her eyes, only determination.
She turned back to Rue and reached her hand out. “Come on. Quickly!”
Cautiously, Rue crawled forward and up onto the woman’s hand. As soon as Rue was nestled in her hand, the woman pulled her inside the building. She set Rue down gently on a granite counter just under the window before pulling it closed.
“Need to call Aaron,” she mumbled under her breath.
Rue followed the woman’s movements as she bustled around the room, moving bowls and tools, then picking up a small box the same exact color as the sky. She tapped on it a few times, then held it up to her ear. Rue could almost hear a humming vibrate through the air, emanating from the box.
“Come on, come on,” the woman murmured. Something clicked, and then she said, “Aaron, you need to come home. Now.”
Rue listened to this one-sided conversation as the woman continued shuffling around the room. She moved a shining metal handle next to Rue, and water streamed into a basin where the woman caught it in a small bowl and added a white powder before setting the mixture in front of Rue and turning the handle again, stopping the flow of the water.
Incredible!
The scent of whatever the woman set in front of Rue caught her senses, and Rue crept toward it, antennae perked. She drank, the mixture sweet and cool, and as she drank, she could feel her energy returning.
The woman took the box from her ear, tapped it again, and set it next to Rue. Then she pulled open a drawer beneath Rue, withdrawing something long and willowy, almost like the wand Mother wielded, and a jar of something glittering and pink.
She crouched until she was eye-level with Rue. “Now. What to do with you?” She wiggled her nose, then sneezed. Rubbing her nose, she continued. “Yes, definitely a spell.”
She straightened and twisted the lid off the jar. A light tinkling sound drifted out, accompanied by the smell of fresh-cut flowers, and something about it set Rue at ease. The woman dipped her fingers in the jar, pinching whatever powder was within, then sprinkled it over top of Rue’s tiny bee body.
Rue sneezed, and then the room shrank around her as she grew back to her human size.
