The Spinner of Dreams

by K. A. Reynolds

  “Yesss,” the smaller wolf hissed. “Let us relieve you of that ugly hand—we’ll take your whole arm if you like.” Those hidden in the tall grass laughed. “Nobody escapes their fate, you know. Not even you. So you may as well give us what we want. Then we promise to be on our way.”

  “Don’t come any closer!” Annalise’s braid whipped as she spun in a circle, big hand thrust forward. “Turn back. And let . . . me . . . go!” A sudden beam of black fire shot from her hand. The wolves nearest her jumped back—leathery skin on fire, yipping in pain. “I said I didn’t want to hurt you!” She felt terrible. Was she terrible? “You should have listened!”

  Grass kindled in a ring around her. The field went up in a whoosh of black flames. “You can’t win, little one,” the largest wolf growled, fading backward into the field. “We will see you again!”

  The beasts sprinted to the petrified wood, crying and growling in rage. The crows cawed above her as the wildfire spread.

  Still, Annalise found no sign of Muse.

  Shaking all over, clenching her cursed hand into a ball, encircled by smoke and magic black flames, Annalise fell to her knees and cried. She was so bad—so, so bad. “What have I done?”

  Behind her, Annalise’s parents were asleep in their bed. If they were hurt from her fire, it would be because of her. She couldn’t let the flames reach them.

  Annalise sprang up. Using the adrenaline flying through her body, she stomped on the blaze, one flame at a time—but it was spreading too fast.

  Caw-caw-caw-caw! The flurry of white crows assembled overhead. Wings and feathers and eyes and beaks flashed inside the moon as they circled directly above Annalise. Then, everywhere, snow. Fat white snowflakes sifted down from the crows’ wings to extinguish the flames.

  The crows were helping her. Sizzle and pop; crackle and hiss. They circled and snowed until the wildfire died and the field was coated in drifts of white, and steam rose from the field. Then, finally, the monstrous thing inside her hand retreated, along with the burning pain.

  “Thank you!” she cried gratefully. The crows cawed and flew. Annalise raced on to the stone wall at the edge of the field after them, until the only fire anywhere was the dream in her heart, raging bright and clear.

  Beyond the wall was the cemetery where her grandparents were buried. Annalise approached the barrier, shaking the snow from her cloak.

  A fluffy streak of white fur donning a black hat caught her eye.

  Sitting atop the stone fence, Muse the cat was waiting for her.

  Chapter 9

  The Train of Dreams and Wings

  Annalise stood before the white cat in the top hat and monocle at the end of the newly burnt field. Giant dead trees lined the length of the stone wall. A flurry of white crows flapped the last flakes of snow from their wings and settled in the bare branches above. Snow landed in Annalise’s hair and on the tip of her nose.

  Her cursed palm pulsed as if it had gained a heartbeat of its own. Worries swirled through her mind like black dust, covering everything.

  “I’m glad you made it,” Muse said. “I was beginning to wonder.” The cat paced the stone wall, then calmly paused to lick his larger paw—as if he hadn’t just abandoned her to a pack of night wolves. Like cursed girls, burning fields, wolf attacks, and snowing crows were the most boring things he’d ever seen.

  Then he yawned, and that was it.

  Annalise brushed the snow from her face, trying not to feel hurt. Trying not to feel anger. But she was hurt. She was angry. Her thoughts and emotions tangled and stretched inside her, and then she fell apart.

  “Why did you leave me?” Annalise asked, clutching her bag to her chest. “I thought . . .” Her hands shook. She dropped her bag and inhaled noisily through her tightening throat. “You were supposed to be my guide—my friend. You weren’t supposed to leave me.”

  Muse resumed pacing, purple eyes on Annalise. “Just because you didn’t see me didn’t mean I wasn’t with you.” His mouth tipped up in apology. “I am sorry, but a part of my job is making sure you’re ready to stand on your own. If you’re going to finish the labyrinth, you’d better get used to figuring things out by yourself.” He pointed at her hidden hand. “Maybe what’s growing in there can help you with that.”

  An image of the black spire in her hand—a horn tip; definitely a horn—rushed back and pinned to the corkboard of her mind. The beast inside her grew stronger, more dangerous and hurtful every moment. And Annalise couldn’t imagine it ever helping her.

  “Why are we here?” she asked, pushing thoughts of the horn aside. The last place she wished to be was the graveyard that held her grandparents. Jovie and Thessaly, Frida and Hugo; all beloved, all hers, all gone.

  “Because the end of one journey is always the start of the next,” the cat replied, wrapping his paws with his snow-damp tail.

  Annalise stared at her feet. “How can death be the beginning of anything but sadness?”

  “Many of the most significant events in one’s life begin with an ending.” Muse leveled his purple eyes, so like Annalise’s own, on her. “Endings are pathways to doorways that open onto hidden things—things one cannot see until they reach that end.”

  Muse popped out his monocle and held it up to the crack across the sky. The glass caught the slight reddish glow gleaming through from the other side. Muse twitched his whiskers, closed his other eye, and peered through the monocle curiously.

  “What are you doing?” Annalise moved closer, trying to glimpse what he saw within the magical-looking glass.

  “You’ll see.” The glass flashed once, then reddened to rose-colored smoke.

  Everything quieted. The black leaves stilled. The world might have turned to ash for all the sound Annalise heard. All was dark until, beyond the cemetery, lights on houses began to flash on.

  Maybe the townsfolk saw the smoke? Maybe the cameras had found them? “What if we’ve been followed?” Annalise whispered to Muse. “What if they come and take me away?”

  “We weren’t followed,” Muse replied quietly. “When I’m wearing my hat and monocle, the dreamers I’m guiding cannot be seen. The Spinner of Dreams made them this way.”

  Annalise sighed. “Why should dreamers have to stay hidden, Muse?”

  The cat’s eyes flashed. “Dreams are very powerful things, Annalise. Know another’s dream, know their heart. Know a dreamer’s heart, and you know just how to control them.” His tail twitched. “Dreams are one thing that must always be followed alone.”

  A sudden spotlight bright as a sun burst through the break in the sky. Annalise shielded her face with her bag. But the light grew, blighting her vision, turning the darkness to day. Annalise’s hair and cloak blew back in a wind threatening to knock her down. The white crows caw-caw-caw-cawed. Raising their wings from the trees, they flew directly into the beam of white light until they vanished.

  Muse replaced his monocle over his eye as leaves whipped to and fro.

  “What’s happening?” Annalise shouted over the gale. “What is this light?”

  The cat’s voice boomed, “The secret to outrunning your fate!”

  In the distance, a lonely whistle blew.

  Annalise froze.

  Panic lit.

  Blood raged in her ears.

  Annalise stumbled backward on rubbery legs. The light and whistle belonged to—

  “A train,” breathed Annalise.

  Seven years ago, her grandparents died on a train. Usually, just the sound of one approaching triggered a panic attack.

  Annalise’s body shook in a pulse of terror from scalp to toes.

  The train is coming for me.

  “M-muse.” She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Annalise couldn’t do anything but be afraid. “I don’t—I don’t know if I can do this.”

  The cat howled over a second whistle, one paw holding his hat, the other his monocle. “It’s the only way to the Mazelands—the only way to become the master of your
own fate! I am your guide. It’s my job to point your way.”

  At her feet, shimmering white train tracks pushed out of the earth in a ripple, twisted up into the sky, and wound through the crack into the next world. The train whistle blew louder. More white crows than she could ever imagine dived out of the light toward her and Muse in a flurry, heading straight for them.

  “What are the crows doing?” They’d saved the field from fire and had protected Annalise and her parents for her whole life. Everyone in Carriwitchet thought the crows wicked and devilish, like her. But they’d always been there for her, and she didn’t want them to get hurt. “They’re in the way of the train!” Her pulse boom-boom-boom-boomed. “They have to move—before it hits them!”

  The cat regarded her gently. “You needn’t worry about them.” He paused. “You see, the crows are the train.”

  Annalise spun toward him. “What did you say?”

  He was enjoying this. “The crows are messengers of the Spinner of Dreams. Not unlike myself, they help deliver dreamers to the other side of your world. Keep your eyes on the break in the heavens and see for yourself.”

  A shape barreled toward them on the tracks between worlds—the shape of a train, made up of thousands of snow-white crows. The white-winged train doubled and tripled and quadrupled in size until it finally slowed and stopped on the tracks before them.

  Gossamer smoke of infinite colors puffed from the smokestack. The scent of ozone, like the air after a warm rain, rolled from the train’s feathers in waves. Each car had a large set of wings that folded as it came to a stop at their feet.

  Feathers the length of Annalise’s big hand made up the cars in place of metal and paint, as if the multitude of crows had joined to construct this giant magical beast. Each window was curved, tinted black glass, like the round eyes of birds. Annalise couldn’t see anything inside the enchanted locomotive.

  Suddenly, she got the itch to run—to Mom and Dad and the safety of her caged home. But going back wouldn’t help her break free from her curse.

  So, as Annalise’s heart chugged louder than even the train, she tried to hold tightly to her new dream:

  I want to control my own destiny and rid myself of this curse.

  The darkness within her mind laughed. “You are a selfish child to want such a thing. You should never have left your parents behind.”

  “Annalise?” Muse spoke softly, his voice drifting up from the ground. She hardly heard him over the war of words in her brain. Beads of sweat sprang up on her brow as the reality of running away from her parents hit her hard and fast. “Annalise,” Muse said loud as thunder. “It’s time.”

  Annalise glanced distractedly down at him. Her hair blustered left and right, as fickle and scared as her thoughts: If she didn’t board this train she’d have no chance of escaping her fate, completing the labyrinth, or finding the Spinner of Dreams.

  But what if she got on the train and died like her grandparents? What if she got lost in the maze and never saw her parents again?

  Or . . . what if she beat the maze and won?

  “Are you ready?” the cat in the mystical hat and monocle asked.

  Annalise clenched her big fist and counted until her heart slowed. Then she nodded and answered, “Yes. I am.”

  But what if, what if, what if, what if . . . ?

  “No. Wait.” Annalise shook her head. “What if I don’t have everything I need? What if I get lost and hurt myself? What if I run out of food? What if I run out of food and water?”

  Muse moved closer to her. “In the game of ‘What if,’ nobody ever wins. In times of trouble, I find following my instincts usually leads me right where I need to be. That said, before I forget . . .” Muse removed his hat, pulled out a small round something like a rainbow gumball, and replaced the hat between his ears. “Here.” He passed her the bright candied something. “Eat this.”

  “What is it?” Annalise scowled at the rainbow orb. It was moving.

  “It’s a rare bit of magic, actually. A treat created by the Spinner of Dreams. Eating it keeps dreamers from starving inside the labyrinth, where nourishment can be hard to find. But be warned, though you won’t starve to death, this candy will not satiate your hunger—at times, it may make you hungrier still. Oh, and it might alert certain things that live in the maze to your presence once you’re inside. The choice to eat it is, of course, up to you.”

  Annalise clenched her big fist, wondering what to do. She wasn’t very good at decisions. Whether choosing between chocolate or tangerine ice cream, or staying home versus running after her dreams, each one felt like a life-and-death situation. Like her entire future rode on her choice. Annalise suddenly realized how little food and water she had in her bag. She might be in the labyrinth for days, and she was already hungry.

  On the other hand, the idea of things in the walls had her worried. . . .

  But starving to death in a labyrinth had to be worse, right?

  Annalise decided to worry about the somethings in the maze later and held out her nice hand. “I’ll—I’ll take it,” she said.

  “Excellent,” Muse replied, and plopped the gumballish orb into her palm.

  Annalise curled her fingers around the candy and recalled her other concern. “You don’t happen to have a magically endless bottle of water, too, do you?”

  Muse’s whiskers bobbed up and down when he laughed. “Afraid not, but there should be refreshments on the train.”

  Annalise regarded the strange candy, took a deep breath, and plunked it into her mouth.

  Her eyes burst wide as she chewed. The gumball tasted like every color of the rainbow, mingled with her favorite fruits and happiest memories. Annalise swallowed.

  Feeling instantly full and a bit sad, she glanced far across the vast field of dead grass toward her house. She could just see the night-light shining from her kitchen window. This is it. There’s no going back. Under her breath she whispered one last goodbye.

  The train whistle blew.

  Speakers clicked on, and a woman’s voice blared: “ALL ABOARD! The Train of Dreams will now be departing for all points between Carriwitchet and Dreamland. Passengers, please have your tickets ready.” Click.

  Tickets? Annalise’s pulse soared. I don’t have any—

  Without warning, cats of every size, color, and shape appeared from thin air with the pop-pop-pop-pop! of bubbles popping. Cats sporting suits and ribbon-heeled boots. Cats with and without glasses. Cats with briefcases, canes, and hats, walking on their hind legs, each with one double paw like Muse gathered before the many doors of the long train. Several pushed in front of Annalise attempting to board before her. The fancy felines gave terse nods to Muse yet avoided Annalise.

  “Who are they?” Annalise asked.

  “They are guides to Dreamland, like me.” Suddenly, his image grew hologram thin.

  “Mercy. What’s happening to you? You’re disappearing, like a ghost.” Annalise knelt at his side. “You’re not leaving again, are you?” Her lungs chugged faster. “You said you’d warn me if you were going to leave.”

  A few of the dream cats looked on.

  Muse’s body faded to little more than a silver shadow. “I’m not leaving you. I’m letting you take the lead.” He held out his large paw. “Please give me your hand, and I’ll show you.”

  She shook her head and stood. Cats grumbled and jumbled out of her way. “No—I can’t find my way alone.” Panic rose dark and horrible, a leviathan whipping inside her chest. “Please don’t go!”

  She felt small and needy, but above all, scared.

  “Take my hand, Annalise. Do you believe in your dreams? If so, you must trust me.”

  Annalise set down her bag and let her anger and endless list of sad questions blow through her. Why is everything always so hard for me? Why am I cursed? Why do I have such impossible dreams? Why are my mind, heart, body, and world filled with so many cruel ghosts?

  In the end, her answer was always the same. “I do
believe,” Annalise said. She extended her small hand.

  Muse regarded her kindly but firmly. “No. The other, if you please.”

  Every cat had gathered around them to watch. The eyes of the train were on them, too. After a moment’s hesitation, Annalise removed her accursed hand from her cloak, and did what Muse asked. A bolt of static passed between their skin. This time, at their touch, Annalise smelled colored roses and sunlight, pine needles and fields of fresh crops. Annalise closed her eyes. In the backdrop of her mind, she saw townsfolk laughing and shopping and gardening, working in the sun in their fields. Parents and their children dancing happily as they laughed. She watched her mom writing outside in a warm breeze, and her dad building boats alongside her. The lands were green and the water clean, and the sun shone warm and whole. In this vision, Annalise was happy, free of pain and free from her curse.

  This dream is mine.

  Tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she told him. When Annalise let go of his big paw, the scents and vision faded away. “Thank you for reminding me.”

  “I am never far,” Muse said. “And don’t forget about the book. Beat the labyrinth, find the Spinner of Dreams, and remember—I believe in you.” He tipped his hat before shifting like smoke in wind and smudging out of sight.

  Annalise buried her big hand in her cloak, grabbed her bag in her other hand, and counted one-two-three-four.

  The cats blocking her path parted to let her through.

  Four steps made of white feathers unfolded at her feet. The train door hissed open. Annalise’s hair and skirt blew back in the sudden vacuum gust as a peculiar, misty light wafted down the steps. The besuited felines tapped her legs and waved their arms, gesturing for her to go through the door. “Oh,” Annalise said nervously. “Forgive me. And thank you.”

  Without looking back, Annalise threaded her dream like warm silk through her brain: I wish to rule my own destiny and rid myself of this curse.

  She repeated her dream, three more times.