by Kit Peel
“Tawhir. Like ‘tore here’? What sort of a name is that?” Kate replied.
Suddenly jealous of Kate and Tawhir having a conversation without her, Wyn glanced up at the boy. It was a mistake. Immediately he turned back and rested his gray eyes on her.
“What are you calling yourself now?” he asked.
“How can you say you know her, if you don’t know her name?” said Kate.
“Names change.”
Kate opened her mouth, about to give one of her quick put-downs, when Tawhir smiled at her, the hard lines of his face softening into warmth and humor. Kate’s words stuck in her throat. It was obvious to Wyn that the boy was manipulating her friend, but it worked.
Kate was hooked, muttering tamely, “She’s Wyn. And I’m Kate.”
“You must be Wyn’s … friend?”
Tawhir raised his eyebrows as he asked this.
“Sure,” said Kate.
The effect that the boy was having on her friend was driving Wyn crazy. She wanted to grab Kate’s hand and drag her away from him, but her body felt like it was encased in ice, unable or unwilling to move. The skating lake, the sweep and calls of the other skaters, the afternoon sun in the trees … they had become a blur to Wyn. Only the boy remained in focus. She glowered at his coat.
“Wyn,” said Tawhir, turning the name over slowly as if he was testing the strength of a strip of metal.
“You’re not from around here. Where you from?” said Kate.
“The Alps, mostly. Ever been there?”
“No.”
“Your friend has. Don’t you remember the mountains, Wyn?”
“I don’t know what you’re on about. I’ve never seen mountains, I’ve never even been abroad,” said Wyn, risking another look at Tawhir’s face. In her mind’s eye, she saw the mountain pass of her dreams.
Just then John skated up, with Lisa in tow. As the two boys stood opposite each other on the ice, Wyn glanced between them. They were both the same age and height, but that was where the similarities ended. While John had the handsome solidity of his father, there was a wildness and endless motion to Tawhir; the way he moved his body in a fluid way, the invisible wind that seemed to blow in his clothes and hair. Only Tawhir’s eyes remained still and unblinking. They were now fixed, dangerously, on John. Wyn saw John try to return the stare and then rock slightly back, as if he’d been struck by an invisible hand.
“You okay?” he asked Wyn, touching her sleeve.
A flash of anger passed over Tawhir’s face.
“Wyn?” said John.
Wyn realized that she’d been staring at Tawhir for some time.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, jerking her head so her hair fell across her face, hiding the unwelcome blush.
“Tawhir here was just saying how he knew Wyn,” said Kate.
Both John and Lisa raised their eyebrows at the name Tawhir.
“Odd name. You from down south?” said John.
“South, east, north, west … John.”
“How do you know my name?”
Tawhir just stared at him.
“What?” asked John.
Wyn was suddenly afraid for John. Even though he was broader than Tawhir, Wyn somehow knew that John wouldn’t stand a chance against the tall newcomer.
“Stop it,” she said, barging in between them. While John slid back over the ice, Tawhir didn’t budge. She had pushed at his chest and her hand was still resting on his coat. It took an effort of will for Wyn to remove it. Satisfaction glittered in Tawhir’s eyes.
“Want to skate?” he said.
Wyn was torn — half of her recoiled from his offered hand, the other half longed to grab it. But before she could make up her mind, Tawhir reached out towards Kate.
“Oh, okay,” said the blonde girl, before laughing in surprise as the boy grabbed hold of her and swept her away.
“You know him?” asked John.
“No,” said Wyn, unable to take her eyes off Tawhir. She hated that he was skating with Kate, not her. And what was Kate doing, going off with him? Across the ice, Wyn saw Kate stumble. Tawhir caught her, keeping his arm around her as they swept on. The sight made Wyn’s blood boil.
“Want to race to the island?” said John.
Wyn didn’t reply. She took off after Tawhir and Kate, catching up with them as they passed the jetty. Tawhir was skating backwards, pulling Kate along after him.
“Missed me?” he asked.
Tawhir lifted Kate up and spun her in a pirouette, catching her and lowering her smoothly back onto the ice. Kate burst out laughing.
“Another?” asked Tawhir.
Kate was nodding, but before Tawhir could lift her again, Wyn had grabbed onto her friend’s hand. Wyn ground to a halt on the ice, pulling Kate to a stop beside her.
“Ow!” complained Kate, rubbing her arm. Wyn had no intention of apologizing.
Tawhir circled the girls.
“She never used to be the jealous type,” said Tawhir, winking at Kate.
“Push off, why don’t you?” snapped Wyn. But the boy didn’t move and Wyn found that she, too, was rooted to the spot.
“See you, Wyn,” said Tawhir. He said her name with a mocking laugh, which made her want to scream.
Tawhir headed off for a corner of the far side of the lake, where the reed beds were thin lances, locked in frost but glittering in the sunshine. Despite herself, Wyn found herself skating after him. Tawhir turned so sharply in front of the reeds that he was at forty-five degrees, his fingertips brushing the ice. Just behind, Wyn shadowed him, following so close in his tracks they were like a train hurtling around a corner.
“Is that all you’ve got?” said Tawhir, leaping round and skating backwards.
Now Wyn should have easily been able to overtake him, but to her amazement, Tawhir was going faster backwards than forwards. His long hair whipped across his cheeks and not just from the speed at which he was traveling. A hard breeze had come out of nowhere and was blowing around him. Tawhir barely had to put any effort into skating, keeping neck and neck with Wyn, even as she angrily drove herself on faster than ever, gasping from the effort. Tawhir folded his arms across his chest and yawned.
“What are you doing? I know you can go quicker than this.”
“You don’t know me! You don’t know anything about me!”
“I know what your favorite color is. Red.”
“Blue,” gasped Wyn, lying.
“I know that you prefer dawn to dusk. You love mountains more than deserts, rivers more than lakes.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Tell me, do you ever dream of flying?”
Wyn was too taken aback to know how to reply. With a yell, she kicked forward, drawing level with Tawhir, who registered her effort with a burst of laughter. He leapt up again, spinning a half circle mid-air, landing on one skate with the other leg stretched behind him. He held out his arms, like a bird. Neck and neck, they went past John and Lisa. Wyn caught a glimpse of their astonished faces.
“What’s the boy to you?” said Tawhir as he stared in John’s direction.
“None of your business,” said Wyn, spotting to her satisfaction the effect that this reply had on Tawhir. As his angular features darkened, he lost a fraction of his pace, and Wyn redoubled her efforts, surging ahead of him for the first time.
She was coming up to the furthest side of the lake, by the reed beds. She swept around the corner, her hand trailing over the reeds that spiked through the ice. Glancing back, she saw that Tawhir had stopped altogether and was watching her. She longed to read his expression, but the boy’s long hair had fallen over his face, hiding everything but his eyes.
There were loud cracking noises and suddenly the ice around her was breaking up. Like a dancer, Wyn leapt between the cracks. She had just made it back o
nto the hard ice when a wind buffeted her and she lost her balance. She was tumbling over the ice, coming to a painful stop amongst the frozen reeds, staring up at the blue sky.
Wyn lay there, catching her breath, half hoping that Tawhir would skate up and lift her to her feet.
The seconds ticked by and the boy didn’t come. Furious, Wyn glanced around the lake, searching for him. He was gone.
John, followed by Kate, was skating towards her. Hoping that somewhere out there Tawhir was watching, Wyn let John help her up from the ice.
As the trio skated back to the boathouse, they didn’t see the old barefoot farmer watching them from the shadows of trees, close to the lake. His green eyes shifted from Wyn to the skyline, searching for something amongst the high clouds.
The mood at dinner was bad that evening, with Kate, unusually, barely speaking and Lisa clearly enjoying the situation.
And that night, once again, Wyn couldn’t sleep. She replayed her encounter with Tawhir over and over in her mind, everything he’d said and every look he had given her. She turned this way and that in bed, threw her pillow on the floor, then retrieved it. She tried to sleep face down, the duvet over her head, which ended up with her pounding her fists against the mattress and leaping out of bed to pace the room.
Several dales to the north, through heavy snowfall, a massive shadow was moving across a moor.
Appearing to smell something, the white bear stopped and lifted his head before breaking into a fast, rolling run, plowing through snow drifts as if they weren’t there, heading south, towards Nidderdale.
7
—
Lisa had been eyeing Wyn from the moment she’d come down to breakfast. But she waited until Kate appeared before launching her attack.
“Seeing your new boyfriend today, are you?” she said.
Outside, the snow had stopped, but heavy clouds remained over the dale, casting everything in a lifeless murk. All the dining-room lights were on and the air smelled strongly of toast. Wyn didn’t reply. She was acutely aware that Kate, who would usually leap to her defense, was silent. With a little smile, Lisa continued.
“I’ve never seen anyone so desperate. You’d only just met him and then you were all over him like a rash, barging Kate out of the way.”
“She didn’t barge me out of the way,” said Kate.
“I saw it with my own eyes. You were having a great time skating with that boy and then she stuck her oar in. And don’t tell me you didn’t like him.”
“He’s just some random stranger. And he’s gone, anyway. It was like he vanished into thin air.”
“What boy was this?” asked Robin.
Lisa told him about Tawhir’s appearance at the lake and his mysterious disappearance after Wyn fell over.
“Tawhir … I’ve not heard that name before,” said Robin. “Where did he say he was from?”
“The Alps,” said Kate.
“It’s an unusual name for a boy,” said Joan. “The only Tawhir I’ve heard of is a wind in Italy. It blows up the eastern coast, towards the Alps.” She glanced sharply at her husband.
“What color were his eyes?” Robin asked.
“His eyes? Why do you want to know?” said Kate.
“Gray,” interrupted Wyn.
Robin was holding a mug of tea. He rested it, very carefully, on the table.
“And this boy said he knew you, Wyn?”
“Mistaken identity.”
“All the same, I think it would be best if you all stayed away from him in the future. He doesn’t sound like the sort of person you want to be mixing with.”
“He’s probably long gone anyhow,” said Kate.
But Wyn knew that Kate was wrong. As soon as she’d woken, Wyn had leapt out of bed and hurried from window to window in the house, and then finally she’d crept outside, half expecting to find him standing in the lane. Even though she hadn’t found him, Wyn was sure that Tawhir hadn’t left the dale. He was out there, right now, waiting for her.
When breakfast was over, and without staying around to help clear up, Wyn slipped away to the porch. She pulled on boots, grabbed her snowshoes and hurried out into the whiteness. She had only one thing on her mind — to find Tawhir.
Slithering down the icy lane into Pateley Bridge, Wyn was utterly preoccupied with the argument she was going to have with the boy when she tracked him down. Why had he pretended to know her? Why had he pretended to like Kate? And why, after making such a fuss over her, had he run off on her like that, without bothering to see if she was all right after her fall? Lost in her heated thoughts, Wyn paid little heed to the way her senses were nagging at her to get inside, out of the snow. Nor did she hear Kate, until the girl careened past her, out of control on the steep lane. Kate veered into a wall and clung on, composing herself.
“Wyn! Wait up! Where are you off to?”
“I felt like a walk.”
“In this weather, and without a coat?”
Wyn hadn’t even noticed that she was only wearing a sweater. Kate held out Wyn’s parka. They faced each other awkwardly on the shadowy lane. It was Kate who broke the silence.
“I saw six moons.”
“What?”
“Outside, last night, I saw six moons. That means that the person I’m meant to be with will be showing up in five years, not now. Besides, it’s not me Tawhir likes.”
“What do you mean?”
“All the time I was skating with him, he was asking me stuff about you.”
“Like what?”
“What you were into, how many friends did you have. If you have a boyfriend … If that’s not a giveaway that he’s got a thing for you, I don’t know what is.”
“What else did he ask?”
“That was it. We kind of got interrupted.”
“Sorry,” muttered Wyn, not that she really meant it.
“He seemed pretty obsessed. But you say you’ve never met him before. Honestly? He’s not some boy you’ve had stashed away all these years?”
“No,” said Wyn, her heart thumping at the way that Tawhir had been quizzing Kate about her. She tried not to reveal her excitement to Kate, but her best friend was already smiling.
“How many moons did you see, Wyn March? Just one, wasn’t it? That means that your soulmate had already shown up, or was just about to. So what if it wasn’t John, but Tawhir?”
Wyn shivered involuntarily, hugging her arms around her chest.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“What’s stupid is you and me arguing, especially over a boy. Truce?”
“Truce,” said Wyn. She did her best to return Kate’s smile, but she couldn’t help wishing that her friend would go back to the house and leave her to search for Tawhir alone. To her irritation, Kate showed no sign of going anywhere.
“Where are you going to try first?” said Kate. “Do you think he’s staying in Pateley?”
“I was going to try the skating lake.”
“The skating lake? What would he still be doing there?”
Rationally, Wyn knew that Kate was right. It made no sense that Tawhir would be out on the lake. But Wyn was finding that none of her thoughts about Tawhir were very rational. She just didn’t imagine the boy being in Pateley. People, shops and traffic were just not him. Whenever she thought of Tawhir, she saw wild, remote places; mountain peaks, and great, empty oceans.
“I don’t know. I just think …” Wyn’s voice trailed away.
“Then that’s where we’ll look,” said Kate. “If you don’t mind company?”
Wyn did mind. All sorts of unpleasant thoughts ran through her head. What if Kate hadn’t been telling the truth about Tawhir asking all those questions about her? What if he chose Kate over her again? It took a monumental effort of will for Wyn to smile back at her friend.
They set off d
ownhill, through the snow. Kate linked arms with Wyn.
“Let’s promise that we’ll never let boys ever come between us. They’re not worth it. Yes?” said Kate.
As they walked into Pateley Bridge, Wyn was so distracted that she ignored the strange way that her bones had begun to ache and how the hairs were starting to rise at the nape of her neck. All of Wyn’s senses were warning her of some imminent danger, and on any other day she would have listened to them and gone back to the house. But today Wyn was fixated on only one thing: Tawhir.
“HEY! TAWHIR! HELL-OOO!”
Kate’s voice echoed across the frozen lake, becoming lost in the heavy whiteness of the surrounding trees. After peering into the boathouse, she and Wyn had walked across the lake and were now on the edge of the island in the middle.
“TAWHIR!”
“Oh, give up, he’s not here,” said Wyn. Having built herself up into a fit of nerves, now that the boy wasn’t at the lake, she was brimming with anger; even more so because she still had the feeling that he was close by, watching her.
“Shall we go and have a look around Pateley for him?” said Kate.
“No. Let’s just go home.”
“C’mon, don’t be like that,” said Kate. “If he’s still in the dale, we’re going to find him.”
“I don’t want to find him.”
“Yes you do.”
“No, I really don’t.”
Kate hugged her arms to her chest, shivering.
“Am I imagining it, or is it getting colder?” she said.
Wyn found that she was also shivering. Only she wasn’t cold. Something was very wrong. She had an overwhelming urge to get off the ice.
“What is it?” said Kate.
Seeing the worry in her friend’s face, Wyn looked nervously around.
“Let’s get back to Pateley,” she told Kate, who nodded agreement.
Then Wyn saw him.
There was a faint, crackling noise all around them. All over the lake, an icy crust was forming over the newly fallen snow. Wyn and Kate watched, breathless, as hoarfrost swept over the surrounding trees; trunks and branches crackling in the transformation. A pair of jackdaws rose up into the sky, departing noisily to the south.
