Satisfied he wasn’t in any immediate danger from the newcomers, Martin relaxed the muscles in his shoulders. He wanted to ask these creatures what to call them, if there were more of them in the woods, and most importantly, if they knew how to restore his human form. Those questions stayed trapped in his mind. All he managed was a rather pitiful sounding whimper.
The female sniffed at the ground, winding her way to the trench. She stopped at the trench’s mouth and looked expectantly at Martin. Did she want to go in? Were they trying to join him in his grotto? Martin padded alongside the female in the trench. The female urged the male to come with them. The three animals entered the grotto, where both the male and the female poked around the slate bed and the pool, and drank.
Martin reclaimed his spot in the shade by the wall. The other two played around in the pool for a bit, splashing at each other like pups. Martin’s head fell to his paws, and he folded his wings neatly at his back. While he watched them, he decided to give them names. If they were to be his companions in misery, even for a short time, he needed something to call them by. He dubbed the female Copper because of her hue. The male’s dark coat and square snout reminded Martin of a wolverine he had once spotted near the Cabbage Cart pig pen, but that was too long, so the he simply referred to the male as Wolf.
Choosing names for Copper and Wolf only took him a few minutes, but by the time they were properly christened they had tired of their sport in the water. They splashed up the slate bed and sat in front of him, as though reprimanding him for not joining the fun. The only response Martin had for them was a hollow gurgle in his stomach.
Copper poked him with her snout. She bounced to the grotto’s edge, then shook her wings. Martin didn’t get up. Copper stood by the trench. Even Wolf gave Martin a nudge, urging him to rise. Martin ignored both of them. He didn’t want to go anywhere, not even for food.
He expected the others to grow bored and leave, but Copper and Wolf relented and stayed in the grotto. They followed Martin’s example and found shelter in the cool shade, only rising now and then to lap water from the pool or sniff the air in the trench—what for, Martin wasn’t sure.
As the time passed, Martin wondered what Illo and the others were doing. He vowed never to complain about Illo’s teasing or Podgin’s griping if he ever got the chance to be with them again. And Elodie...her smile filled his mind, but it turned his heart cold. Hers was a smile he would never be able to face as long as he had wings and claws. He feared now more than ever for her safety. Given all the chaos he had gone through in the last day and a half, there was no telling what the woods might have done to her.
* * *
Afternoon turned to evening. The grotto was one big pool of shade by the time Martin moved again. Over the last couple of hours, hunger had renewed its assault on his body, overpowering the urge to stay in the slate. The flat pieces of stone scraped and rattled as he rose off his stomach.
Copper and Wolf glanced up. They were on their feet in an instant. Martin could tell by the eager looks on their faces that they were as hungry as he was. He didn’t know why they had stayed with him in the grotto all this time instead of giving up on him and fending for themselves, but their company was the closest thing to comfort he had felt since his change.
The three of them filed down the trench. Their paws splashed in the shallow stream, and a pair of starlings made a quick exit as they passed by. Copper eyed the birds but let them be. They left the trench behind and headed away from parts of the forest Martin knew, away from the Minnowchuck. Martin let Copper and Wolf lead him.
The woods spilled into a damp valley where the sun only grazed the ground with its fingertips. The trees, grass, and leaves lacked the vibrant colors that characterized the rest of the forest, but already Martin saw more signs of life. Plump lizards and bugs skittered out of reach, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the lime-green tail of a sage viper winding up a tree.
Martin thought the others planned on hunting these small creatures, but Copper proved him wrong. She flew into the boughs of a spacious oak and beckoned for Martin and Wolf to join her. They did so, and for the next few minutes they traversed from tree to tree with ease. If only Illo could have seen Martin then.
Copper’s tactic soon paid off. A startled pheasant burst from the tree they had just hopped to, taken by surprise. Copper launched herself from the branch. The pheasant never stood a chance. Copper looped back around to the tree with the bird clamped in her jaws. She looked pleased with herself, but she had hardly landed when she and Wolf both froze as one. Martin followed their example out of reflex, and when he did, he heard what they heard.
A voice wavered in the woods nearby, and it got gradually closer. The voice sounded so familiar, but Martin didn’t recognize it right away. When the owner of the voice came into view, Martin’s lip curled up around his teeth.
A lone figure ambled along in their direction. He was short and twiggy and brown, with white, grassy hair and red eyes. It was none other than the mad dryad king. He spoke to himself, his murmuring getting louder and louder with each step.
“Flower white, flower bright, suddenly you’re dry and dead,” chanted King Prickle. “I had it. I deserved it. They were jealous, and I’ve been robbed, robbed, robbed. Woe! Woe to anyone who wears a crown.” All of a sudden, as if overtaken by anger, he began to yell. “Get out! Get out of my sight! I don’t want you.” He danced on his feet and waved his arms haphazardly.
King Prickle stopped near their tree, completely oblivious to their presence, and sobbed into the crook of his arm. He paced back and forth, muttering to himself, then snapped a thin branch from the nearest trunk and dropped to his rear on the ground. He dug into the mud with the stick, tracing random shapes and squiggles. He said no more, though every once in a while he broke out into sobs or little fits of rage.
Martin gripped the branch with his claws. Maybe, just maybe, if the king kept talking, he could glean information regarding Elodie. He glanced at the others. Copper still held the bird in her mouth, and Wolf tried to take it from her without success. Neither showed much interest in the dryad king, but for the moment they were in no rush to leave.
Martin returned his attention to the scene below just in time to see a small, brown figure climb down a trunk some distance away. His ears flattened.
It was Bramble. He approached the dryad king on his toes, with his hands clutching his ears. King Prickle sniffled a few times before looking up, but when he did, he yelped and jumped to his feet, throwing his twig into the air.
“Bramble! You rapscallion, you fiend, you leaf-shaker! How dare you approach your king as he sits on his throne? Bow, insolent little rodent!”
Bramble trembled from head to foot, which wasn’t much distance at all. “Bramble is sorry to disturb his sticky-majesty,” he squeaked, “but Bramble has come because Bramble has kept all of Bramble’s promises.”
“Bramble has done nothing of the sort,” said King Prickle.
“Bramble is...Bramble is sorry he shook the leaves.”
“Apology not accepted.” The king turned away.
A plump, round tear splashed down Bramble’s cheek.
“What’s this, then? Are you blubbering? Don’t be so childish! And while we’re at it, I’m not your friend anymore and I’ll never speak to you again.”
Bramble choked on a sob. “Bramble is sorry! Bramble has done everything he can to make up for what Bramble did. Bramble found a new bride, just like sticky-majesty wanted. Bramble lied and tricked, but Bramble did it because Bramble misses Bramble’s home. Mustn’t tell a lie, mustn’t tell a lie!”
“The new bride you brought wasn’t any good,” said King Prickle. “She hit me. And what’s more, she got away. Now I’m brideless and crownless and very, very upset. I’m starting to think no one loves me.”
“Oh dear. Bramble knows what that feels like. If sticky-majesty needs help, Bramble would be happy to be sticky-majesty’s friend.”
“Friend?�
� roared the king. “Foolish little dropping, you were my son, even if you were adopted. I named you and I fed you. And what did you do for me in return? You shook the leaves off my beautiful, beautiful queen, and now she’s gone, gone, gone, and I’m never going to find anyone to replace her!”
Bramble curled into a ball. “Bramble knows. Bramble is sorry. Bramble has tried so hard to do things right, but Bramble is miserable and cannot.” He threw himself at the king’s feet and hugged his leg with fierce desperation.
“Get off me,” said the king, and he kicked his shin up.
Bramble sailed through the air.
“Now leave me alone! I don’t have time for you. You had your chance, and I’m too hungry to deal with you. Come back with sliced melon, or better yet, don’t come back ever again! Get out of my throne room before I turn you into a stump for birds to poop on until you rot. Where’s my favorite scepter?”
With a sob and a wail, Bramble sped away on his stubby legs. Soon his cries faded.
Martin could hardly believe what he had just heard. All this trouble, everything that had happened to him and Elodie since that moment on the bridge...Bramble was to blame. He should have known. He shouldn’t have listened to the lies. Were he still a human, he would have chased Bramble down and pinned him to the ground until he confessed everything.
King Prickle sat back down and resumed drawing in the mud with his stick. “Miserable little beggars,” he said to himself. “Always popping in to ask for unreasonable favors. Can’t have it, no we can’t. Isn’t that right, my sweet queen?” The king put his arm around the closest tree.
Martin tried to quell the anger bubbling in his gut. The branch that fell on the bridge, their separation, the dryads...it was all starting to make sense, but there wasn’t a single thing Martin could do about it.
Copper and Wolf, restless and unaware of Martin’s turmoil, took off from the tree. Martin followed them back to the grotto, leaving King Prickle alone with his musings. If the dryad heard them leave, he ignored them.
Back by the pool in the grotto, Copper and Wolf tore into the pheasant. When they had eaten their fill they tossed what little remained of the carcass in Martin’s direction. Martin poked at the bird with a claw. He was hungry enough not to care anymore, so he ate. It didn’t taste as bad as he expected it to, but he swallowed large chunks as quickly as possible just in case. Then he did the only thing he could think of to do. He lay under the rock at the back of the grotto and stared at the ground.
* * *
The girl named Illo and the stubby man named Podgin helped Elodie stagger to their cottage in the woods, which, to Elodie’s relief, wasn’t far from where they found her at the bottom of the bank. Elodie blacked out a couple times on the way, but Illo and Podgin put her arms over their shoulders to prop her up. Each step sent a line of fire up her spine.
They crossed a shallow brook that cut through the clearing in front of the cottage. The door and windows were shut.
“We’re the first ones back,” said Podgin.
“Never mind that now,” Illo replied. “Let’s get her inside. She’s really hurt.”
They pulled Elodie through the doorway into the cottage’s main room and helped her to a chair. Elodie sat with a groan. She leaned forward to rest her forehead on the table, trying to keep her back as straight as possible. Illo opened all the shutters to light up the room while Podgin banged around the cupboards for rags and buckets. Elodie wanted answers, but anything she said came out as a hoarse rasp.
Illo grabbed a bucket and ran outside to the brook, then charged back in, sloshing water all over the floor. Podgin hurried right through the puddle with a stack of folded rags in his arms. He slapped them on the table. Illo dumped water into a wooden cup and pushed it into Elodie’s hands.
“Drink this before you croak yourself to death.”
Elodie sat up straight, but her back flared. She groaned again. The cup clattered to the floor. She shook her head.
“It’s okay,” said Illo. “Podgin will clean that up. Try again, slowly this time.”
Elodie had more success on the second attempt. She took a cautious sip first, then downed the whole cup in two gulps. She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth, working it back to life. “Thank you.”
Illo took the cup back. She pulled up a chair and sat in front of Elodie. “Don’t mention it. So...we know who you are, but you have no idea who we are, do you?”
Elodie shook her head weakly. “I heard your names, but that’s all. Is Martin here?”
Illo and Podgin shared quizzical looks.
“How do you know we know Martin?” Illo asked.
“I was supposed to find him on this side of the river. Is he here?”
“That’s not an easy question to answer,” said Illo. “Long story short, no, he’s not here. He was until last night.” She paused. “This should really wait until we’ve tended to your back. I’m not a doctor, but those scratches look nasty. What happened to you?”
Elodie let her head drop back on the table. “That’s a long story too.”
“We know most of it,” offered Podgin.
“Right,” said Illo. “Martin and the rest of us have been chasing after you ever since the dryads took you. We know what happened in the palace, and we know you crossed to the north side of the Minnowchuck River sometime yesterday. That’s where we lost you.”
“He’s been with you the whole time?”
Illo nodded. “But he snuck out last night. I don’t know what he hoped to accomplish in the dark, but he hasn’t come back.”
Another painful tremor seized Elodie’s back.
Illo circled around behind her. “Be a darling, Podgin, and turn away for a minute.” She gingerly peeled away the slashed sections of dryad dress. “Yikes. Nasty was an understatement. What got you, a boar with knives for tusks?”
“Trunders,” said Elodie. She figured she should save her breath and tell them about Nayadu later when she wasn’t in excruciating pain.
“Trunders? Never heard of those. Podgin, remind me to send you to fetch that old book when I get a chance.”
Podgin kept his back turned. “Forest Flora and Fauna, from—?”
“Yes, that one,” said Illo. “But first things first.” She took a deep breath. “That’s a lot of blood. I’m terrible at this. Fella, my older sister, always fixes cuts and stuff, but she’s still out looking for Martin. Luckily for you, I don’t think we’ll need to sew you up. I’m just going to wash out the cuts. Try not to thrash around.”
Illo dipped a rag in the water bucket and wrung it out. She dabbed blood from Elodie’s skin around the cuts. Each touch of the rag stung like a hundred bees, but Elodie gripped the tabletop with her fingers, refusing to complain.
“And I thought sting finches were bad,” said Illo. She switched to a clean rag.
She was about to put the fresh cloth to Elodie’s back when the cottage door kicked open. Elodie swiveled her head as much as she could. A girl with dark hair and tired eyes hobbled in first, followed by a lynx with golden wings. Elodie recognized him right away as the cat who had tried to seize her from the dryads. She lacked the energy to show her surprise.
“Fella!” Illo dropped the rag and threw her arms around the girl’s neck. “I ought to smack you. Why didn’t you come back?”
The dark-haired girl kissed Illo on the forehead. “I know, I’m sorry. I was still north of the river when the rain hit. It threw me off course, and I thought it best to wait until morning to find a place to cross back over. Aguilax met up with me not far from the brook. He already told me about Martin. I had no idea.”
The winged lynx trotted by with his head up.
Fella closed the door and looked Elodie up and down with an unreadable expression. “Looks like I’ve missed some excitement around here. You must be Elodie.”
“Yes, she is. Podgin and I were looping around the area,” said Illo, gesturing wildly. “Just to pass the time, you see. I knew you’d be
back eventually. That’s when we spotted her, buried in leaves at the bottom of the mound I slipped down that one time, remember? We practically had to carry her back, though.”
“Isn’t it ironic?” said the lynx, Aguilax. “One slips away while the other lands on our doorstep.”
“You’d better take a look at her, Fella.” Illo stepped aside. “She’s scratched up pretty good.”
Fella sank into a chair beside Elodie. She placed gentle fingertips on her shoulders. “You poor girl. Trunders did this to you.”
Elodie nodded her head feebly.
“That’s what she told us,” said Illo. “What are trunders? I was going to send Podgin for the old reference journal before you got here.”
“Trunders are one of the reasons why we stay on this side of the Minnowchuck,” said Fella. “They’re vicious hunters with wings, teeth, bad tempers, and an awful smell.”
“Oh. So...you probably wouldn’t be too thrilled if I told you I came face to face with one right outside the cottage early this morning.”
Fella stopped with a rag half-wrung in her hands. “No,” she said slowly. “That’s not the sort of news I hoped to hear.”
“I had an arrow ready, but the animal got away. Podgin messed up my shot.”
“Pardon me for trying to help,” said Podgin from his corner. “I’m just waiting for someone to tell me I can turn around. I feel terribly excluded.”
Ignoring him, Illo came back to Elodie’s side. “Can you fix her?”
“The scratches aren’t deep,” said Fella. “Podgin, you can light a fire and boil water. As long as the wounds don’t get infected, she’ll be fine. Go to my room, Illo, and grab clean bandages from the box under my bed.”
Podgin got to work and Illo scampered to do as she was told.
“Don’t worry,” Fella said to Elodie. “You’re safe here. We’ll take care of you.”
Illo ran back with the bandages.
“Martin was supposed to be here,” said Elodie. Her voice still sounded weak. “She said I’d find him on this side of the river.”
Where the Woods Grow Wild Page 16
