by Ron Sexsmith
“Just a bit dizzy is all,” he meekly replied while shuffling slowly toward the staircase.
Maggie rose from her chair and called out after him. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you? Tell me the truth!”
Grimsby had not gotten very far when he stopped and turned to face her. “Ma’am, I swear to you, I have not seen your boy,” he said without deception. “I’m afraid all the excitement of tonight’s rumble has upset me more than I originally thought. Or p’raps it was the soup.” He smiled (though it was more of a wince) in a weak attempt at lightening the mood. But looking into her eyes, his heart overflowed with the following words. “I do hope you find your boy. You have no idea how much. But sadly, I don’t feel so well at the moment. So I’m afraid I must bid you all a good evening. Please stay on as my guests and order whatever you like. It’s all on the house!”
This he spoke with as much energy as possible under the circumstances before gesturing toward the bar. “Charlisle here will see to everything. Won’t you, Charlisle?” he said, glancing over at his faithful barkeep (whose left eye, incidentally, was quite bruised from its earlier pummelling).
“Aye, aye, Captain!” came that man’s jovial response.
As he climbed the stairs, so, too, did Maggie’s eyes, as Gerty’s had done just a day earlier. But upon reaching the first landing, he paused to look down, shaking his head sadly with eyes that strained to tell her all that his words were at a loss to explain. He knows something, thought Maggie. Though she wasn’t at all sure if her heart was strong enough to know what it was.
And as the night pulls back its camera on our little inn at the edge of the forest, we leave Maggie by the fireside, her thoughts lost in a whole other forest of worry, with Griff and Gruff on either side like gargoyles on a cathedral ledge. And Grimsby on his single bed looking up at the face of Merthaloy, who’d been appearing nightly ever since Eleanoir first showed up. “You know something, don’t you?” he whispered to the ceiling.
Her face seemed to nod, but then he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “Oh, Mertha,” he sighed before rolling over to blow out the candle, which flickered at first, as if it, too, were afraid of the darkness fixing to swallow them both.
Winter came as usual with its unwanted package of hardships and then left without a word of goodbye. But now, with spring in the air, it was time for all living things to “come out, come out wherever you are!” Deryn had stuck pretty close to Big Eyes throughout the difficult season, only to emerge triumphant as he stepped out to greet the morning sun. Everywhere he looked, life was either waking up or thawing out while unearthing a buried treasure of sights, sounds, and smells. All that had been barely perceptible to him as a human came into sharp focus in the most intense and emotional way.
“What are you doing?” asked Big Eyes with his dozy head poking out of the cave.
“I’m just …” (here Deryn took a moment to gather the perfect bushel of words) “… taking it all in,” he explained, swaying his head back and forth in lieu of hand gestures.
“Taking all what in?” Big Eyes wondered with much concern. “Whatever you plan on taking in, we don’t have room for it in here.”
Deryn shook his head and laughed. “No, you big hat rack! I’m talking about NATURE … you see?”
But noticing how his friend’s dimly lit expression remained unenlightened, he thought to give it another try.
“Look,” explained Deryn, “when I say I’m taking it all in, what I really mean is … I’m experiencing it ALL with ALL five of my senses. Now do you see?”
“Five senses?” inquired Big Eyes suspiciously. “And where did you get those from?”
“Where did I get them from?” Deryn repeated with mild annoyance. “Why, the same place you got them. We all have them, you know!” (Big Eyes looked back at the cave to see if perhaps he’ d left his in there.) “No, that’s not it,” said Deryn “I’m talking about sight, sound, smell, touch, taste. FIVE SENSES.” (And stomped his hoof down for each of the five.) “Now do you get it?” he asked with understandable trepidation.
“Oh! Why didn’t you say so!” said Big Eyes, grinning with relief. “Just keep them out here is all I’m saying,” he continued, clearly not grasping it in the least. “We don’t have room for all your senses, let alone mine in there!”
It seems our deer friends had become dear friends over the course of the long winter months. And aside from the occasional mind-numbing conversation, Deryn couldn’t recall ever having a better pal, and he was quite certain the feeling was mutual. From Big Eyes’s perspective, he’ d been on his own for so long, operating on basic instinct, that he’ d forgotten ever having a brain in the first place! Mostly he was thrilled to be getting some use out of it again. For every day Deryn would come bursting with questions and/or theories, all of which invited contemplation and made his small brain throb with activity. As for Deryn, although he missed his mother terribly, he was determined to make the best of the situation and live his life out to the fullest without any whinging if possible.
This being the first day of spring, our deer friends walked in golden silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun-dappled trees but mostly enjoying each other’s company. All winter long Deryn had been lugging around a delicately heavy question and thought now was as good a time as any to set it down.
“So, were you there when The Round One, well, you know?”
“Do you mean when he shot my mother?” asked Big Eyes.
“Yes,” said Deryn before adding, “I completely understand if you’d rather not talk about it.”
Big Eyes looked to the sky momentarily before responding, “Yes, I was,” though without any noticeable trace of emotion.
“I’m so sorry,” Deryn offered. “That must’ve been just terrible. I mean, if anything bad ever happened to my mother, I know I would be devastated.”
“I don’t know what that means,” said Big Eyes flatly. “But yes, I imagine you would be … def-a-stated, that is,” and loped on ahead in silence. Deryn watched him as he walked away, not wishing to intrude in his time of reflection. Though truthfully, it was hard to tell if there was much, if any, reflection going on.
Just the same, he couldn’t help feeling a little nosey for bringing it up. For although Big Eyes had not offered much in the way of details, he got the sense that it was still a very painful subject to address.
Upon returning to the day ahead, he was amazed to discover that while lost in thought he’ d been missing out on the generous banquet Mother Nature had laid out before them. From this scenic vista atop the grassy hill, Deryn could literally see for miles. The trees below and river beyond all trembled with life ’neath a powder-blue sky. Birds, too, were flying around and singing all the songs he’ d heard as a boy, only now he could finally understand what they were singing about! (He had hoped the lyrics would be better, though!) And turning to the east, he could even spy the old Hinthoven sign that stood ever faithful on the edge of his beloved hometown. “This is Heaven.” He smiled inside ’til his heart was fulfilled enough to spill over with gladness.
But then, from out of nowhere (where most bad things originate), a loud pop was heard as something hot pierced his side. All four legs buckled under him as he collapsed to the ground in shock and in pain.
“Deryn!” shouted Big Eyes, as he came rushing back and looked down on his friend with grave concern. “Are you going to die, too?” he asked, helplessly eyeing the wound.
Deryn let out a weak moan while attempting the least convincing brave face in all of history. “I think it only grazed me.” He smiled (though it was more of a wince) in a weak attempt at lightening the mood. Soon the crunching of footsteps could be heard approaching from the base of the hill. “You’d better go,” said Deryn anxiously.
“I’m not leaving,” came the predictably stubborn reply.
“Listen to me, you have to go!” Deryn insisted.
“Or he’ll kill us both!”
Big Eyes shook his head all the more defiantly, making Deryn all the more upset. “GET OUT OF HERE, I SAID. GO!!!” his mind rightfully screamed, sending a tree load of birds scurrying across the sky.
But as the footsteps drew nearer, Big Eyes relented and reluctantly turned to leave. He’ d not gone very far, however, before Deryn called out to him one last time. “Wait!” And as Big Eyes waited, eyes soulful and sad, Deryn created lines hopeful and glad.
“I just wanted to say thank you for everything. It may not have been a very long life, but it has been a sweet life, and the best part of it was knowing you!” he spoke straight from his heart and then nodded as if to say, “That’ll be all.”
So after taking one last look at his wounded comrade, Big Eyes gave his head a hopeless shake and sped off into the woods just as man and rifle were seen coming around the bend. “Well, I guess this is it,” said Deryn, presumably to the sun, with eyes full of wonder and tears as he heaved a sigh of gratitude for everyone he’ d ever loved in his relatively short life. In doing so, he could feel his troubles ease into the warm bath of a peaceful dream as all fear and sorrow became wrapped mystically in grace. “At least I got to have this one last beautiful morning.”
The old Hinthoven sign had undoubtedly seen better days, though it is doubtful it ever felt less lonely than it had of late. For Maggie Hedlight had made it her daily constitutional to head out there each morning, rain or shine, ever since Deryn went missing. She had truly not given up on her son, despite the fact that many people in town had begun to question her overall sanity. Positioned at the crossroads where the forest begins and the countryside ends, the sign had been performing the thankless task of greeting visitors, farmers, and hunters for ages upon ages. (Though they never did get many visitors, if we’re being honest.) Somewhere along the way an overbearing tree had decided to wrap itself around the sign, obscuring a few essential letters in the process. Not that anybody seemed to notice, for it had read NTHOVEN for about as long as folks could remember. Next to the sign there lurched a rickety old fence that was every bit as faded as the sign itself. On top of this fence sat Maggie Hedlight, legs dangling, with Griff and Gruff leaning in on either side. And all three staring wistfully at the forest.
Maggie believed to her soul that someday Deryn would emerge from there unharmed. For to believe otherwise was just too dark a thought to entertain. Little did she know how close this dream was to coming true, and right before her eyes! For in the distance a horse and cart was steadily approaching with two figures sitting up front. If her eyes had been working better, she would’ve recognized them instantly as Magnus and Claira Hinterlund, though it wasn’t very long at all before their familiar faces came into relatively sharp focus at last. Then, as Maggie waved warmly at them, she also noticed how the wagon they were pulling carried a deer inside. A deer that was still moving!
“Ah, Mrs. Hedlight!” said Magnus with a tip of his hat before acknowledging Griff and Gruff with a look of curiosity and horror.
“I see you have a live one there?” exclaimed Maggie, obliviously pointing at her own son.
“You can thank Claira for him,” sighed Magnus, shaking his head. Claira flashed a bashful smile at Maggie, followed by a loving one at her father. “How could I say no to those eyes?” he wondered aloud while shrugging helplessly. “I was just about to put the poor fellow out of its misery when this here young lady came to the rescue!”
Maggie’s jaw dropped before looking over at Claira, who could only nod sheepishly back at her. “But why, dear?” she asked with mild astonishment. “That one could’ve fed the both of you all month!”
“I don’t really know why, Mrs. Hedlight,” replied Claira. “There was just something about him. It was almost as if … he recognized me!”
Magnus then winked at Maggie. “Truthfully,” he said, “it was Claira’s first hunting trip,” while nudging her playfully and added, “quite possibly her last! She hasn’t the spine for it, I’m afraid.”
A melancholy shadow passed over Maggie’s heart in remembrance of her lost boy. “It was Deryn’s first hunting trip, too,” she said, looking down as the Hinterlunds gave each other a solemn sideways glance.
“We’re really sorry about Deryn,” offered Claira. “We saw him at this very spot, in fact, on the day, well, you know, the day he went …”
Maggie’s eyes brightened in anticipation. “You saw my boy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Claira, turning to her father, who nodded as if to say, “Go on.” “Well, we were on our way to town,” she continued, “and he was walking toward us …”
(Here Claira’s voice trailed off as the sadness leapt into her throat.) “He was a fine boy,” interjected Magnus. “In fact, I think Claira took quite a shine to him, didn’t you, Claira?”
(Now, this nugget of personal information, under any normal circumstances, would’ve no doubt horrified young Claira. But after seeing the pleasure it brought to Mrs. Hedlight, she decided to elaborate on it in her own words.)
“He was very sweet,” said Claira. “But I feel a bit guilty now because, well, you see, I was teasing him a little that day. Not in a mean way, though.”
“Aw, don’t worry yourself about it, dear,” said Maggie. “He spoke of you often! You made quite an impression on him, I dare say,” and grinned absent-mindedly before continuing.
“You’ll probably think I’ve gone mad. A lot of people already do, but I believe he’ll be back. I just have to believe.” Maggie then teared up suddenly, as Claira, who had already begun crying, hopped down from the wagon and ran straight to her arms. Soon there were moist eyes all around. Even on the faces of Griff and Gruff.
As for Deryn, from his position strapped down in back of the wagon he couldn’t see much of what was going on, but he could certainly hear and feel it. In fact, he had never felt so many conflicting emotions in all his life!
On one hoof, there was this feeling of relief at being spared by Claira’s compassion. On another hoof, not being able to tell anybody who he was felt miles beyond frustrating.
“So, what do you plan on doing with him then?” Maggie wondered, looking back over at the wounded deer.
“Well, Father thinks we’ve only grazed him,” Claira replied optimistically. “So we’re going to nurse him back to health, right, Father?” To which Magnus could only sigh and shrug his shoulders.
“We’re going to try!” he said. “I’m sure Tressa will know what to do. She always does!” Then, raising a mock scolding finger to her face, added semi-seriously, “But if or when he gets better, it’s back to the woods for him. Understand? He’s not a dog, you know!” After which he commenced tousling her hair, forcing Claira to giggle and squirm desperately before breaking free of his loving clutches.
All the while, Maggie looked on with feelings that were filtered through her own playful memories of her boy. The bittersweet expression on her face spoke louder than any words as the merriment faded into the sad reality.
“Well, I suppose we should get this beast home and see if we can fix him!” said Magnus. “It was nice seeing you, though, Mrs. Hedlight, and we sincerely hope that you find your boy.”
“And I won’t forget to keep him in my thoughts and prayers,” added Claira, making her father more proud than even he thought possible.
“You know, it’s funny,” said Maggie, “but just running into you like this, I can almost feel his presence.” (As Deryn pricked up his ears in the background.) “It’s almost as though he were here listening to everything we’re saying and knowing how much we miss him,” she further explained, then finished off with an expression of peace so contagious that even Griff and Gruff appeared much more like angels and much less like bouncers.
Magnus, though, could only look on sympathetically (and maybe even a little skeptically, truth be told). “Well, ’til next time,” he said doffing
his hat to the twins.
As they pulled away, the wagon slowly loped past Maggie until she was able to catch a closer glimpse of the wounded deer and was awestruck, too, by what she saw. “I think Claira was right!” she called out to the back of the Hinterlunds.
“Right about what?” asked Magnus, looking over his shoulder.
“I think this one here recognizes me as well!” She smiled and shook her head as Magnus winked and Claira waved goodbye.
But then, looking into the deer’s frightened eyes, her face softened as only a mother’s can as something deep within her heart compelled her to say the following words: “Don’t be afraid. These nice people will take good care of you. Do you understand?” But then to her utter amazement, the deer’s head bobbed up and down as if understanding her completely. This seemingly mystical interaction left Maggie in the road with her mouth agape as Griff and Gruff looked on, greatly moved by what they had witnessed. And lo, from yonder hill, another set of eyes had been watching them all intently for some time now. “Def-a-stated,” he said to no one.
Throughout the winter months, Crad Grimsby had time to think about a good many things. He’ d thought a lot about the witch and her dog, which was to be expected. And although he had tried to forget the past and at times even Merthaloy, he found remembering her to be much more beneficial to his overall peace of mind. Mostly, though, his thoughts were of Maggie Hedlight and her missing boy. He couldn’t help but think there was a connection. Some invisible thread, perhaps, that strung them all together. To put it plainly, he was a lonely man and wondered if she just might be lonely, too. He didn’t know her age offhand — it would’ve been rude to ask — but he had the feeling that it couldn’t possibly be too far off his own. Her face, which had not left his memory since the night they first met, held a certain kindness that tugged at his inner child and was, at this very moment, in fact tugging him toward Hinthoven!
