by T.A. Barron
Anna watched, holding her breath. Here was a tree spirit, about to emerge from its home!
The rowan’s face bulged outward, swelling like a burl on the trunk. Then came two long-fingered hands, a belly as round as the tree itself, and a pair of bumpy feet. Slowly the figure pulled apart from the trunk, oozing out from the gaps in the bark. Finally, with a moist, sucking sound, it came free.
Standing on his own at last, the fat little fellow raised his arms above his head and started to dance. He slapped his feet on the tree’s roots so hard, his round belly jiggled. With a broad wink at Sash, he twirled himself around, howled with joy, then twirled again, faster than before.
All around, spirits emerged from their trees, pulling themselves out of knotholes, through chinks in bark, or up from roots. Right away they, too, started dancing. One elder spirit, as knobby as the old oak where he lived, spun himself in so many circles that he fell to the ground with a thud—and a dizzy grin. Pale-skinned birch spirits threw aside their dangling braids and turned cartwheels and somersaults on the forest floor. Above Anna’s head, a thin girl hung with both hands from a branch. She wore a suit of summer grasses that covered even her fingers and toes. As she swung slowly to and fro, her long hair fluttering across her arms, she looked every bit as graceful as a young elm.
Anna didn’t know which way to look. It was all so real—yet so amazing.
While the drumalos danced, the strange music swelled even louder. The wind swelled, too, swirling and gusting through the forest. Needles and twigs and leaves filled the air. Everywhere, saplings stomped their roots to the rhythm, while older spirits swayed to each and every note, rowing the air with their branches. And Anna could feel the beat pulsing in her bones.
Someone grabbed Anna’s wrist. Sash! He pulled her right into the revelry, whirling her around the rowan. Hands held tight, they jumped and spun and kicked their legs high. Anna threw back her head and laughed—aye, just for the thrill of it all.
“Oh, Sash…” She leaped over the shaggy head of a cedar who had sat down to rest. “I love this, I do!”
“Not bad!” he crowed. “With some more practice, you could almost keep up with me.”
“Then let’s practice all the time!” She smiled as they twirled past a family of elms who were spinning in unison. Here she was, dancing with the very creatures she’d thought were ghouls! “Sash, this is the best day of my life.”
“Just wait till tomorrow,” he shouted. “When we go up to the willow together. And when you find out—”
“Wait,” she interrupted suddenly. Her dancing slowed. “I’ve been thinking. I want to go up there alone.”
“Really?”
“Really. Something tells me it’s better that way, just me and the willow. I’m not sure why—just that it’s better.”
He shook his sandy locks. “Well, all right. But you won’t have nearly as much fun without me.”
“Aye, that’s true.” She squeezed his hands. “That’s always true.”
Just then someone dropped a wreath of white berries on her brow. She let go of Sash and spun around to see who had done it.
Before her stood a gnarled old fellow with a crooked grin. He wore a floppy hat studded with cones. And as he bowed stiffly to Anna, she caught a familiar smell, both tart and sweet.
“Burl!” She threw her arms around the neck of her old friend.
He wrapped his own leathery arms around her, and they started dancing a bouncy sort of jig. “Now there, me girl! Hoho, hoho. Methought you might not know me.”
“Oh, Burl. I’d always know you!”
He shook his head to the thumping beat, spraying some cones from his hat. “’Tis good to see you so free, me girl.”
She whirled herself around, and danced all the faster.
Sash tapped her shoulder. He bowed to Old Burl, then pulled Anna into a new freewheeling frenzy. Her bare feet flew above the ground, hardly touching before they flew again.
Like all the others, they romped long into the night. Sometimes they danced as a pair, and sometimes as part of a long, twisting vine that wound its way among the trees. And sometimes Anna just danced alone, twirling herself around and around in the light of the rising moon.
And when, at last, the festivities ended, she continued to dance in her dreams.
Chapter 15
STILL SWAYING IN HER DREAMS, Anna woke up.
She lay on the bed of moss beneath the rowan. The tree’s branches and bark looked normal—no sign that anything unusual had happened. Oh, but she knew better! Twigs and cones jabbed at her back, and crushed berries stuck to her hair. She bent her legs. So sore…
Yet she could only smile. What a night she’d known! Stiffly, she sat up and rubbed the bottoms of her feet. Black they were, black as charcoal. And splotched with sap. She pulled a sprig of fern from between her toes, which tickled.
Anna gazed at the sun-shafted woods around her. Leaves, bark, and broken branches lay everywhere, as if a powerful wind had shaken the forest. But she knew well that this had been caused by something much stronger than wind. High Hallow Eve!
And she, herself, had been there.
So had Sash—though she couldn’t see him anywhere now. She thought of their flying dance, legs kicking high, and her smile broadened. And I’ll dance with him again, I will.
She turned toward the higher ground up the slope. But first…the High Willow. I’m going there now. At last.
She jumped up, despite her sore thighs and calves. Then, like a squirrel, she scampered up the rowan. And peered through the branches toward the ridge. There it was, rising steeply, and closer than ever. And there, at the very top, stood the shape she knew so well. The willow seemed to wave in the wind, beckoning.
But wait! She spied something else, something she hadn’t seen before. A cliff, sheer and streaked with water, wrapped around the crest of the ridge. And blocked her way.
Anna stroked her chin. She could go around it, sure. But that would take time—too much time. No, the fastest way to the willow would be to go straight over the cliff.
Down the rowan she scurried. Just as she started off, she heard a squawk from the moss at her feet.
“Eagle!” She stooped and stroked his feathered head lovingly. “Flying fish eggs, how could I forget you? All that dancing must have rattled my brains.”
The bird just tilted his head and glared at her.
“But now we go,” she said, half singing. “To the top of the ridge! Oh, what a sight that tree must have been in the wild wind! Now come up here on my shoulder.”
Off she tramped up the slope, her feet crunching on chips of bark and twigs. Golden rays drifted through the trees and made pools of shining light on the ground. Bluebells and rosehips quivered in the breeze. Bees hummed above the sweet-smelling grasses.
The forest felt so different today. More…friendly. At peace. She pushed the hair back from her forehead. And wondered which had really changed—the forest or herself.
Her steps quickened. What would she find up there? The tree, of course…but what else?
She tried to swallow, though her throat felt drier than driftwood. She had to find something! Even something very small. To help her know her own past…her own self.
She pushed through some leafy vines that dangled from a hemlock, and stepped over a mesh of fallen trunks. Meanwhile, the land grew steadily steeper. And dotted with dark boulders—probably broken chunks of the cliff.
Then—a shadow ahead. The cliff itself! She approached and stood beneath it, hands on her hips. Crab claws! It looked awfully sheer, and taller than she’d thought. Water trickled out of the cracks and flowed down the face, making the rock shiny. And, she knew without question, slippery. Very slippery.
“Looks tough, Eagle.”
The sparrow made a fierce, sharp whistle.
“Of course I’ll be careful, you silly.”
She strode over to a deep crack that snaked its way up from the base. Grabbing the edges with her fingers,
she pulled herself off the ground. Then she wedged her toes into the crack and crept higher.
Little by little, she climbed. Sometimes she clung mostly to the rock itself, sometimes to the tufts of moss that sprouted from the watery seams. And sometimes, it seemed, to the very air.
As she neared the top of the cliff, the long crack came to a sudden end. What now? She leaned out as far as she dared and scanned the face. There—a thin ledge just to her right. But could she reach it?
She stretched out her hand. Farther…and farther…
No! Just out of reach.
Anna shook a drop of sweat off her nose. If her hand wouldn’t reach, then how about her foot? Clinging tight now with both hands, she lifted one leg. And caught the ledge with her big toe! She wrapped it around the outcropping, braced herself, and—
The lip of rock broke off! She almost fell, but her hands dug deep into their holds and didn’t slip. And she listened, heart pounding, as the broken pieces clattered down the cliff.
She steadied herself, despite her sore fingers. And drew an uneven breath. Then, swinging her leg outward again, she caught the ledge at a lower spot.
“Hold tight, Eagle.”
Cautiously, she shifted her weight to the ledge. Her hands searched for new holds as she slid herself across the rocky face. Cold, damp rock scraped against her elbows and knees. The muscles in her thighs ached terribly.
Made it! Eagle drummed her shoulder with his foot. She tilted her head and nuzzled him.
The ledge angled upward, and she moved along it briskly. A few moments later, she pulled herself over a gap at the cliff’s edge and stood safely on top.
She turned to face the slope above them, densely packed with brambles and trees. She couldn’t see the willow, but it couldn’t be far. Scratching Eagle’s neck feathers, she said, “Almost there, my friend.”
Not far up the slope they met a thick stand of hawthorns—so thick, their branches blocked out the sky. Just the same, Anna plunged right in. The wind stirred, and the trees’ spicy scent washed over her. To her surprise, the branches seemed to part, their spiky edges swinging away and guiding her through the thicket.
Suddenly she burst out of the branches. Bright sunlight made her squint. But after her eyes adjusted, they opened wider than ever.
For there before her stood the High Willow.
Anna caught her breath. “By the sea and stars…”
All alone stood the tree, boughs arching high into the air. And from those limbs hung leaves in long, flowing tresses, a cascade of curtains that nearly touched the ground. The silver-green leaves rippled and swayed with the slightest breeze.
For a long moment, she just stood there, gazing at the tree. Her heart thundered in her chest. And a strange new feeling of warmth flowed through her body.
Her eyes grew misty. She blinked them clear, but more mist came. In a hoarse voice, she spoke to the tree, her moist cheeks shining in the sun.
“Great willow…I am Anna.” She took a small step closer to the rippling leaves.
The tree’s long tresses swayed ever so slightly. They made a soft rustling sound. A sound that soothed, and welcomed. A sound that Anna felt she had heard before, though she couldn’t be sure.
Another step closer. “I, well…I’m not really sure why I’ve come. Just that…I had to. And that…”
She cleared her throat. “I want to find my mother. Or what happened to her. She was here once, wasn’t she?”
Her face lowered, and she whispered, “I just want…to know her.”
A gentle gust stirred the layers of leaves. They seemed to beckon, to call her closer.
Anna stepped among the roots. They felt warm under her feet, and bent ever so slightly with her weight. Welcoming her.
Slowly, she pushed past the leaves. Now she saw the tree’s mighty trunk—aye, so thick, it could have been five trunks bound together as one. Sunlight shone on its bark, and shimmered.
She reached for a branch above her head. Sturdy and strong it felt, and just the right height. She smiled to herself. Time to climb this tree! She swung herself up with ease. Whatever else she’d come here for, she wasn’t about to miss her chance to climb the highest tree of all.
But something made her pause and go no higher. Something she couldn’t quite name. She sat herself on that bottom branch, shrouded by curtains of green, and leaned back against the trunk. I’m here now. Really here.
Just at that moment, the wind blew stronger, sweeping through the curtains of leaves. They rustled and billowed outward. The whole tree seemed to draw its own deep breath.
Anna closed her eyes. She felt the willow sway around her, rocking her as she must have been rocked long ago in her mother’s arms. These branches held her so gently, so completely. She nestled closer to the tree. Then she heard, in the rustling boughs, a slow, quiet whisper.
Hrraaala lo wwwashhhawaaiii, lo hrraaala wwwashhhalaaaee. Sooohhla shhhowaaa lashhhalooe, heshhhanaala shhhaana shhhooooo.
To Anna, the tree’s whisper sounded almost like a song. And then she remembered her very own words: A song that blew like the wind, and beat like a—
“Rowanna! There ye be!”
Master Mellwyn’s harsh voice turned her blood to ice. Before she could move, he grabbed her by the leg and yanked her down from the branch. With a thud, she hit the ground. She stared up at his face, twisted by rage and fear.
“Blast, girl, I jest knew I’d find ye here! Now come!” He grabbed hold of her arm. Roughly, he dragged her away from the tree—and back down into the forest.
A shrieking wind struck the ridge. The willow shook wildly, and its tresses snapped like whips. Other trees nearby began to writhe and twist, slashing the air with their branches. Meanwhile, Anna struggled to break free—but the old man’s grip only tightened.
“No!” she cried. She beat her fists against his arm and shoulder. “Let me go!”
His eyes seemed to sizzle. “Hush, ye foolish child!”
Brutally, he hauled her along. When they came to the top of the cliff, he veered and dragged her all the way around its side. Then they plunged again down the slope. Eagle tried to cling to her shoulder, but finally tumbled off and landed in a red currant bush.
Anna continued to struggle and shout. When finally she fell to her knees so he couldn’t drag her so easily, he whipped off his belt and tied her arms together with a fisherman’s knot. Then, shaking his head, he threw her over his shoulder, much as he would a net full of mackerel. He stumbled ahead, back toward the shore.
By now the entire forest was roaring in fury. Trees groaned and smacked their limbs together, showering the old man with leaves, twigs, cones, and other debris. Some branches clawed at his tunic, while others tore loose and slammed to the ground just in front of him. Ghoulish faces appeared in the trunks and burls, glaring angrily.
But Master Mellwyn just wouldn’t stop. “I’ll not be losin’ ye now,” he panted over and over. “Not now, or ever.”
Chapter 16
AT LAST, AS THE LONG DAY NEARED its end, Master Mellwyn staggered out of the forest and onto the shore. The swollen sun glowed orange on the horizon. All the while, furious winds howled and hurled sand, sticks, and leaves. Behind the old man, the trees slashed the air with their boughs.
He kicked open the cottage door and dropped Anna to the floor. Then, using scattered bits of vine, he lashed her to the main post. She squirmed to break free, though the bindings bit deep into her arms.
“Let me go!” she cried tearfully. “Oh, please, let me go.”
“Hush, ye foolish girl,” he barked, still panting from the strain of the journey. He slammed the cottage door. “By the plague’s own breath! I’m tryin’ to save ye! Them ghouls are still a-shriekin’ out there.” Deep ruts etched his brow. “No tellin’ what they’ll do next.”
“Nothing!” Her voice, sore from shouting, squawked like a wounded gull. “They won’t hurt us, I tell you!”
His jaw tightened. “That tree,” he spat. �
��Aye, that’s what done this to ye!” He whirled around and threw open the door again. “There be jest one way to stop this. Aye, and stop it forever!”
Bewildered, Anna watched him stomp outside. Then she heard a sound, low and rasping. It rose and fell, rose and fell, like an unending wave on the shore. And though she could barely hear it over the roar of the trees, this was a sound she knew well—the axe being sharpened on the whetstone.
The axe! She shuddered, down to the soles of her feet. For now she grasped his plan. He’s going to chop down the willow.
“Nooooo!” she howled.
The rasping sound continued.
With all her strength, she tried to break loose. She heaved and tugged. Crab claws! The vines only tightened. The harder she pushed against the post, the more she got splinters in her back and bruises on her ribs.
I’ve got to get out. Got to!
She twisted again, struggling to pull her arms free. Sweat, mixed with sap from the forest where she’d danced the night before, dribbled down her brow. She thought of the great willow, standing so high and alone, majestic on the ridge. And the sweeping branches, so like arms, that had held her.
Anna’s whole body shook with the strain. Harder she pulled, and harder.
But the vines wouldn’t budge.
She slumped back against the post. Her throat swelled, and her sides and shoulders ached. The High Willow…felled by the master’s axe. And she could do nothing, nothing at all, to stop it.
Rasp, rasp, rasp. Soon he’d be finished. She could almost see the axe slice through the air. And feel its blade bite into the flesh of the tree.
Her tree.
Anna’s fists clenched. She must try again!
She braced her feet and pushed back. But instead of ramming into the post as she’d done before, she twisted sideways and leaned hard. Very hard. She put all her weight on the vines, stretching them across the edge of the post. And then she twisted even farther.
