Bramble jumped onto Martin’s head, and from there to the edge of the pit. “Bramble is sorry, but Bramble cannot stay.”
“Hey! You promised to take me to Elodie. You can’t leave me here!”
“Mustn’t make a peep,” said Bramble. “Mustn’t answer any questions.”
“I can’t climb up by myself. Find a branch to pull me out.”
“Servant of Nayadu would hurt Bramble. Bramble is sorry!” And with that, the furry creature disappeared.
Martin yelled after him, but Bramble was gone. Then Martin heard footsteps coming towards the pit.
A dark figure leaned over the edge. Armed with a wicked-looking bow and garbed in forest colors, the stranger watched Martin without a word. A gray hood caked in mud and fern leaves hid his face.
The stranger knelt and stretched out his hand. He smelled like a swamp, but anything was better than being stuck in the pit for the rest of his life, so Martin let the stranger haul him free.
With the light back in his favor, Martin got a better look at him. The stranger stood a few inches shorter than Martin. He pointed his weapon straight at Martin’s chest.
Martin raised his arms and stepped back. “Now, look here. I don’t care how dark or evil you are, I haven’t done you any harm, so you have no reason to point that thing at me.”
The stranger lowered the arrow and whipped the hood away. Martin’s brow shot up. He certainly hadn’t been expecting the person standing before him. It was a girl, a girl with fiery green eyes and a feisty scowl.
She threw down her bow and planted her fists on her hips. “Why, you clod-brained, gimpy hog-moggins, I’m not evil!”
4. From Floodweed to Fanged Fledglings
The girl folded her arms. She peered into the pit, then back at Martin. “Don’t you know how long it takes to dig these traps?”
Martin gaped at her, completely speechless.
“I even made this stupid cloak, just for today’s hunt, and you’ve ruined it.” She ripped the leaf-and-mud cloak from her shoulders and tossed it aside. Once her hands were free, she picked up her bow. Then she looked him over feet to face.
“You’re obviously not a bog boar, but with the face you’re making you could easily pass for a trout.”
Martin snapped his mouth shut. He brushed dirt and grass from his pants without taking his eyes off her.
“That’s better. But you’re missing...never mind. You’re a person, and there’s little to be done about it. Do you have a name?”
“I’m not telling you my name,” said Martin.
The girl pouted. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t like you. I’m tired of being treated like a lost child, like I don’t know anything.”
“Are you lost?”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course I am.”
“Do you know anything?”
He hesitated.
“Well, if you’re lost and you don’t know anything, how else am I to treat you?” She frowned at her ruined pit again and clicked her tongue. “All those hours...all the blisters...”
Martin took a step away from the pit just in case she got any ideas. “Are you going to let me go?”
“Of course not. You may be a normal fellow, but you still ruined my best boar trap and wasted two whole days of work, and I’m not letting you out of my sight until you make up for it.”
She got on her stomach to pull a section of reed mesh from the hole. She shook it in his face. “Putting this thing together took me four hours by itself. It was a work of art, a hunter’s masterpiece. And you and that wad of bothersome fur stomped right over it as if it were your doormat.”
“It’s not like we saw it coming,” Martin retorted.
“Of course you didn’t! That’s the whole point of a trap. But it’s not for lost boys, it’s for bog boars. Now we’ll have to eat potatoes and rabbit all week. But why should you care, right?”
Again, Martin stared at her in bewilderment.
The girl shook her head. “If I’d known you were going to take the trout comment so seriously, I would’ve chosen a more useful animal.”
“I don’t have time for this,” said Martin. “Look, I’m sorry about your pig trap, but I’ve lost a friend of mine. She might be in trouble and I’ve got to find her. I’m not from the forest. I live in Bardun Village. You know it?” He waved his arm. “Out there, out of the woods, where things make sense.”
It was the girl’s turn to look confused. “Don’t lie to me. There’s nothing outside the woods. I’ve never heard of any villages. You made that up.”
“Have you never...” Martin squinted at her—the soiled pants and shirt, the straw-colored hair hanging to her waist, the handmade bow. “Have you never left the forest?”
She shrugged. “Should I have?”
“It’s wild in here.”
“Well, you’re not wrong. But I still think you’re lying. If there were any villages outside the forest, they would have...” she didn’t finish the sentence. “Either way, you broke my trap. You owe me. It’s time to go.”
“Go?” Martin shook his head. “I can’t go. Weren’t you listening? I have to find my missing friend.”
The girl raised her arrow again. “I think you’re wrong. I think you’re coming with us.”
“Wait. Us?”
She stuck two fingers between her lips and whistled. The shrill tone pierced the forest.
“What are you doing now?”
She arched an eyebrow.
A savage yowl answered the girl’s whistle. A magnificent creature broke through the forest canopy and landed beside her. It was a woodland cat, a lynx, with rich fur and wings of golden feathers spreading from its sides. When it saw Martin, the lynx hissed and flattened its ears.
“Illo, this isn’t a bog boar,” said the lynx.
“I know that already,” said the girl. “But he ruined our trap, so we’re taking him with us all the same.”
Martin couldn’t take his eyes off the winged cat.
The lynx circled Martin’s legs. “Why is he missing a hand?”
“I don’t know,” said Illo. “He hasn’t even told me his name. Now isn’t the time to ask personal questions, though. We’ve got ground to cover.”
“How do you expect me to pay you back for that trap, anyhow?” Martin asked. “I can’t make a new one, for obvious reasons, and I have no money. You may as well let me go.”
“Money? What on earth would I do with that junk? Don’t worry, mister trout. I’m sure I’ll think of something by the time we get back.”
“But my—”
“Your friend? The one you’re making up just to get out of trouble? Don’t bother. Now, on to important matters. I can move quickly through the trees, but I’m guessing you can’t, so Aguilax will take you.”
The lynx offered him a snarl.
“And if you try to fight or run, I’ll put a hole in your back pocket.” Illo jostled her bow to make her meaning clear.
Martin looked apprehensively at the winged cat. “I’m too big to ride him.”
Illo grinned a wicked grin. “I never said you’d be riding.”
Aguilax leaped into the air, circled once, and picked Martin up by the shoulders. His claws dug through Martin’s shirt, but before Martin could yank free they were flying up towards the treetops.
“My advice,” said Aguilax, “is to not squirm. I’m strong, but I can’t guarantee I won’t drop you if you put up such a fuss.”
Martin didn’t have the breath to respond. His stomach threatened to slide right out of his mouth as the forest floor swirled and dwindled beneath his dangling feet. Illo shimmied up a tree below them.
Aguilax spiraled upwards in wide circles until they broke free of the trees and met clear skies. Martin’s eyes widened at what he saw. The forest rolled on for miles and miles in all directions. He craned his neck, but couldn’t find the end of the forest or the village.
“Aren’t you going to leave her behind?” He shouted
over the rush of air.
“Illo? Not a chance. She’s as fast in the trees as a monkey with its bum on fire. Besides, we’re not going far.”
Martin was relieved to hear that. Neither he nor Aguilax spoke anymore. As his stomach gradually settled back into place, Martin stared down at the leafy ocean. Today was not his day.
* * *
Hanging from Aguilax’s paws like so much drying laundry wasn’t a comfortable means of transportation by any stretch of the imagination, but the flight turned out to be a short one. Soon after they leveled out above the tops of the trees, Aguilax began his descent. The lynx looped in lazy circles, much like he had done to gain altitude when they set out.
Aguilax navigated the forest roof deftly, taking them once more into the shining green underworld. The loops left Martin dizzy, and when Aguilax set him on his feet, he nearly tipped over.
Aguilax padded down beside him. “It’s always tricky business, flying for the first time.”
Martin nodded, but he was too surprised by what lay before them to answer. He and Aguilax stood on a patch of flagstone by a pleasant brook that snaked through the grass. Flattened stones provided a place to cross, and on the other side the grass was neatly trimmed.
A cottage nestled against an old oak, but it was unlike any house Martin had seen before. Wood beams framed walls of hardened clay. There was a rounded door in the middle of one wall, and windows along the others. The roof was thatched straw and grass, broken only by a clay chimney.
The cottage wasn’t square or rectangular, or any shape houses were supposed to be. Instead, the walls grew with the oak, adapting to the twisting curve of the trunk and half buried in its roots on the right and a mound covered in lush grass and wildflowers on the left. Martin thought it looked like the forest had tried to swallow the cottage but got stuck halfway through the process.
The grassy clearing between the brook and the front door showed signs of frequent use as well: an animal’s rich pelt stretched over a frame by the water, and an old stump served as a log-splitting block beside it, with an ax buried firmly in it. There was a hewn table in a puddle of sunlight under one of the windows, and on it sat an array of potted flowers and a watering pail. Oil lanterns hung from the lowest oak branches all around the house and lawn. Martin even spotted plank platforms behind the thick foliage in the high boughs.
“Who lives here?” he asked.
“Illo does.”
“She did all this by herself?”
“Hardly. She’s not the only resident. Illo has an older sister, Fella. Her mind is as sharp as Illo’s arrows, which is fortunate for you. If anyone can sort out things between you and Illo and spare us another evening of bickering, Fella can.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Martin.
The lynx splashed his paws in the brook. “I must say, you’ve got a curious scent about you. You’re certainly not from the forest. I can’t quite shake my whiskers at what it is, but it’s...well, it’s nasty, if I’m honest.”
“My guess would be onions and old soap,” said Martin glumly. “And you’re right. I’m not from the forest. I’m from Bardun Village. I work at the Cabbage Cart, that’s why I smell this way. I tried to explain things to Illo before you came, but she didn’t listen.”
“Bardun Village?” Aguilax repeated. His ears twitched. “I’ve heard of no such place. Then again, I haven’t ever flown farther than Willow Pond, so I’ll take your word for it.”
Just then, Illo arrived. She came along the trees, bounding gracefully from branch to branch, never once misplacing a step or mistiming a jump. She swung down from the final branch and landed lightly on her feet next to them. She wasn’t even out of breath.
“Good, we’re all here,” she said, as if counting luncheon guests.
“I’m not stepping through that doorway for you to lock me up,” said Martin.
She waved him off. “Stop talking, trout-man. I’m not locking you up, I’m welcoming you into my home. Consider yourself a guest.”
“Do you always threaten to stick arrows in your guests if they refuse an invitation?”
She grinned. “Most of the time, yes.”
Illo and Aguilax led Martin across the brook and up the path to the cottage’s front door. She opened it without knocking and stepped aside to usher Martin in first. Contrary to the outside, the house’s interior was perfectly ordinary. The door opened to a sunlit room equipped for sitting and eating, and a kitchen, a pantry, and a few small bedrooms clustered farther in. There were shelves full of knick-knacks, tables and chairs of varied sizes and carved patterns, stacks of patchwork quilts, cupboards with dishes, and everything else one would expect to see in a cozy country home.
Aguilax stretched and perched on the back of one of the chairs with his wings neatly folded over his back. He looked like a furry, breathing gargoyle.
A voice called out from one of the bedrooms. “Illo, is that you? I hope you haven’t brought a whole boar carcass back. The house already smells like a swamp with all the mud you dug up for that costume of yours.”
Another girl stepped into the main room. She had the same slim build as Illo, but her hair was straight and dark, almost black, and her eyes were brown instead of green. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, eying the party gathered in the room.
“I didn’t bring a bog boar, Fella. My trap was perfect, but I’m stuck with him instead.” Illo pointed at Martin with the tip of her bow. “He ruined my pit, he wasted my days of tracking and preparation, and to top it all off, he thinks he’s a trout.”
Fella looked Martin up and down. “Is that so?”
“I brought him here until I can think of a way for him to pay me back,” said Illo, “but he keeps making up stories and excuses.”
Martin could only imagine what a sorry sight he must have been in his disheveled state. There was a time when he would have said it was impossible for him to be any dirtier than he was in the Cabbage Cart’s kitchens, scrubbing grease puddles, but this evening put that claim to the test.
“Do you want to eat something?”
Fella’s question caught him off guard. He hadn’t eaten anything since a hurried meal at noon in the kitchen with Percy, but until now, he hadn’t taken the time to consider how empty his stomach felt.
“It’s about time for dinner anyways, so I’ll take your indecision as a yes,” said Fella. “Illo, do you mind?”
Illo stuck out her chin. “You know I don’t like to cook. I’m the one who kills the food, remember?”
“Would you rather Aguilax try his luck with a mixing spoon?”
Illo left the room with a sigh, but not before giving Martin a final warning look. What she was warning him about, he didn’t know, but he would make sure not to do it. Aguilax found a comfortable position on the floor, which left Martin fidgeting at one end of the table and Fella still studying him from the other.
“Have a seat,” she said.
Martin stayed put. “I’m not sure I should.”
“Suit yourself.” Fella pulled over a chair for herself. “My sister gets a lot of crazy ideas in her head, but I can usually pick out the bits of truth.” She leaned forward with her arms on the table. “I know you don’t actually think you’re a trout.”
Martin grinned, albeit reluctantly, and sat.
Pots and pans clanged in the kitchen.
Fella rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind Illo. She’ll do that off and on until she remembers we don’t have magic ingredients that cook themselves.” She paused, as if given him a chance to say something. “Illo has hunted this part of the woods for years, from boars to bears, but this is the first time she’s brought back a person. She’s flustered. I don’t know how she expects you to pay her back for the pit, and you have a look in your eye that tells me she took you away from something important. Am I right?”
Martin nodded.
“I’ll hear more of Illo’s side of things later. But I’m curious. How did you wind up this deep in the forest?”
“I’m not from the woods,” said Martin.
“So I gathered.” She spread her hands open.
Martin told her everything that had happened to him since falling off the bridge. During his explanation, Fella showed no particular reaction, and not once did she interrupt him for questions or clarifications. To his surprise, she seemed to be accepting his story word for word.
When he was done, she leaned back in her chair. “You’ve had quite the day.”
“So you believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Illo didn’t even give me a chance.”
“I’m not Illo.”
Martin stared glumly at the knots in the table. “I just want to find Elodie and go back home.”
“Of course you do.”
“Do you have any idea where she might be?” He couldn’t mask the desperation in his voice.
“I don’t,” said Fella. “But there are ways to find out. We’ll talk when we’ve all had a bite to eat.”
Illo came back with a stack of wooden plates in her arms. She slapped them onto the table and left again without saying a word.
Fella ignored her. “May I ask what happened to your hand?”
“Something attacked me about a year ago,” said Martin. “A wolf, or a bear, I don’t know. I don’t remember much about what happened.” It wasn’t a topic he felt like discussing. “Thank you, by the way. For listening.”
“Like I said, we’ll see what we can do to help after we’ve had a proper meal. Well, let’s hope it’s proper. With Illo at the helm, anything could happen.”
“I heard that,” said Illo, sweeping through to plop a plate of ripe fruit in the middle of the table. In a few more trips she had the table covered in bowls of soup, cups, wooden utensils, half a loaf of sliced nut bread, and a platter of soft butter. With a decent amount of grumbling, Illo served the food.
“Not to put you on edge, but I dripped poison in your bowl,” she said to Martin. “And I still think you’re a hog-moggins.”
Illo and Aguilax bickered and bragged during the meal, swapping exaggerated hunting stories, each trying to out-narrate the other. The escapades were entertaining, but Martin wished they would talk less and eat more so he could get on his way. Nevertheless, the food didn’t last long, and when they finished eating, Fella stacked the tableware off to the side.
Where the Woods Grow Wild Page 4
