The Mysterious Woods of Whistle Root

by Christopher Pennell

  And so, Carly’s sixth year of school began as all the others had. She had barely gotten to her desk when her eyes began to close and she promptly fell asleep.

  Her new teacher, Ms. Hankel, had been warned about her no doubt. She shook Carly roughly to wake her and then walked away without saying a word.

  Carly found that her desk was slightly apart from the others and directly under an air-conditioning vent that blew a constant stream of cold air at her. Luckily, she had worn long sleeves, even though it was warm outside, to hide the scratches the owls had made.

  She also noticed that hers was the only desk with a floor lamp beside it, with what appeared to be an especially large and bright bulb.

  She suffered sleepily through the morning and finally found her self in the library for a short study period. She immediately began looking for books about the history of Whistle Root. What Breeza Meezy had said about the Moon King intrigued her, and she wanted to see if she could find out anything about him.

  Based on the size of the chair in the rats’ cave, Carly could tell that the Moon King had been a person and not a rat. But who was he? Had he played music with the rats as she did? Why was he called the Moon King?

  Carly could find only one short book about Whistle Root, but it didn’t say anything about the Moon King, and the disappointment must have been clear on her face.

  “You should try this one,” a voice said.

  Carly looked up and saw Green Pitcher, a boy from her class. He was skinny and tall, and wore glasses. And despite his name, he had bright red hair. He was holding out a book to her.

  “You should try this one,” a voice said.

  Carly was surprised. Normally the other kids didn’t talk to her. They thought she was strange, falling asleep all the time and living in that scary old house by the woods. But Carly thanked Green and took the book and sat down at a table. The book was very old and she looked through it quickly but still didn’t find anything.

  “You should try the secret pages,” said Green, and Carly realized that he had joined her. He turned to the middle of the book and lifted out several pieces of folded brownish paper. He handed them to Carly.

  The papers were very old and thin and crinkled when she touched them. She unfolded them carefully and saw writing, and this is what she read:

  * * *

  The STORY of the WHISTLE ROOT TREES

  There once was a land called the Endroot where nothing would grow. No seed would sprout if you planted it. The roots of plants and trees would come to its edge and turn back as if frightened. It was literally where roots ended.

  The ground was made of ashes. And the wind would blow the ashes into terrifying storms that filled the air and blocked the sun. It was always dark and cold there.

  No animals or people lived in the Endroot. There was, however, one family that traveled there frequently. They were musicians, and they performed for whoever would pay them in the five kingdoms that surrounded the Endroot.

  One day, when the air wasn’t as thick with ash as usual, and you could even see the sun, a giant bird appeared in the sky. It was carrying a woman, and it dropped her into the Endroot and flew back in the direction from which it had come.

  This wasn’t as surprising as you might think. It was a common punishment in all five of the surrounding kingdoms to drop criminals into the Endroot and hope they would travel to one of the other kingdoms, if they survived at all. The traveling family of musicians avoided these people because you never knew if they were dangerous. They also had little food or water to share with strangers.

  However, when the family reached the woman, she did not seem dangerous. She sat on the ground and watched them with her amber eyes but did not speak. Her hair and skin were quickly turning gray with ash. A man from the family walked over to her and asked what her crime had been. He was curious. They didn’t often see women punished this way.

  “I offered them a bag of seeds,” the woman said.

  The man laughed. “I’m sure your crime was greater than that,” he said, and walked on, expecting nothing but more lies if he asked any more questions.

  A young boy from the family, who had heard their conversation, snuck away and made his way back to the woman. “Did you really only offer them a bag of seeds?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Were they poisonous?”

  The woman shook her head. “They were only seeds,” she said, and smiled. She could tell that the boy had a good heart, so she offered him a further explanation. “They thought I was a witch,” she said. “That’s why they dropped me here. It’s funny how people will punish you for the slightest little thing.”

  The boy, who had seen his own family punished simply for being poor, could certainly sympathize with that. And as the woman seemed kind, he told her he would bring her what food and water he could until they reached the next kingdom. “Follow our tracks,” he told her. “But stay far enough behind that the others can’t see you.”

  The boy took care of the woman as he had promised, and she survived her long walk through the Endroot. On the last day of their journey, she gave him a gift. She pulled a small bag from a pocket in her dress and placed it in his hand. “Take these seeds,” she said. “And whenever you travel in the Endroot, plant them in the ashes. Plant them everywhere, and one day you will have a kingdom of your own.”

  It was an odd request. But as the years passed and the boy and his family traveled through the Endroot, he planted the seeds as the woman had instructed him to do. He knew it was foolish and that the seeds would never grow, but he planted them with great care anyway.

  And to the boy’s great surprise, the seeds did grow. They grew into trees of all sorts and sizes. Trees that he had never seen before and could not have imagined. His favorites, however, were the ones with the musical roots and the leaves that reminded him of bells. He began to call them whistle root trees and was especially happy when a new one sprouted.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS CARLY HAD finished reading, she searched the book for more hidden pages. But the bell rang and Green said he had to hide it before going back to class. “I don’t want anyone else to find it,” he explained. But he promised to show it to her again and Carly agreed to meet him at the same table the next day.

  “Do you think the story’s true?” she asked him.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “Why did you show it to me?”

  Green shrugged, refolded the papers very carefully, and placed them in the book. Then he looked around as if to make sure no one was following him, grabbed the book, and disappeared down a dark aisle in the back of the library.

  Carly couldn’t resist following him. But when she looked down the aisle, she didn’t see him anywhere.

  That’s odd, she thought. Without time to investigate further, she gathered up her things and trudged back to her cold and brightly lit desk.

  CARLY WENT TO THE CAVE that night. She helped the rats with their repairs and, in the firelight, told them the story of the Endroot and the whistle root trees. None of them had heard of the Endroot before, not even Breeza Meezy.

  “We’ve lost so many stories,” was all that she could say.

  THE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL, Green wasn’t in class. Still, during the study period, Carly waited for him at the same table in the library just in case—but he never showed up.

  When the bell rang, and Carly got up to go back to her desk, a girl from her class named Hetta stuck out her foot and tripped her. Carly fell to the floor on her face.

  “Look! She’s fallen asleep again!” said Hetta, and everybody laughed.

  In the afternoon Carly really did fall asleep, and Ms. Hankel knelt by her desk and blew a whistle loudly in her ear. Carly woke up swinging her arms wildly and struck Ms. Hankel hard. She had imagined that the owls were attacking her again.

  She went to the principal’s office and explained that it had been an accident. She didn’t tell him that she had thought owls were attacking her; she
figured he probably thought she was weird enough as it was.

  She was finally allowed to go back to her classroom, where she apologized to Ms. Hankel.

  “Very well,” said Ms. Hankel curtly, not looking at Carly and pretending to be busy examining a paper clip.

  Back at her desk, Carly looked out the window and saw smoke rising from somewhere deep within the woods. She panicked for a moment, thinking that the woods were on fire.

  But as she watched, the smoked stayed the same and didn’t seem to be spreading.

  Did someone live out there?

  Before she could think about it more, a blast of cold air hit her and she saw that Ms. Hankel was adjusting the thermostat.

  “Bit hot in here,” she said, smiling unpleasantly.

  Carly saw a bruise forming around Ms. Hankel’s right eye and realized that her school year had gotten off to a very bad start indeed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SMOKE AND WHISPERS

  THAT NIGHT, CARLY AND LEWIS walked through the woods trying to find the source of the smoke she had seen from school. Lewis wasn’t happy about this. The moon was out and he wanted to play music.

  “I already put a new squash on your roof,” he complained.

  Carly had insisted that they go. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the Moon King, even though Breeza Meezy had said he’d lived a long time ago. Could he still be out there? And if he was, could he help the rats? She grew heartsick at the thought of the owls taking Lewis from her, which seemed more likely with each passing night. He was so reckless when he played his fiddle.

  Carly also had another reason for seeking the Moon King. Something inside her clutched desperately to the notion that he might have answers—answers to questions she had been asking her entire life, such as why was she awake every night? Why was she different? Her parents hadn’t known and her aunt definitely didn’t. Was there anyone else in the world like her? Or was she just an oddity, as the doctor had said?

  She knew it was nothing but foolish hope (like wishing on stars and dandelions), but could the Moon King know things that no one else did? And if he didn’t, would anyone?

  Carly and Lewis stopped at the white cradle. Carly had promised Breeza Meezy she would let her know if anything else strange appeared in it. The red hat was still there, and Carly was surprised to see a new note inside. She read it aloud. It said:

  Beware of whispers!

  “What does that mean?” she asked Lewis.

  “Probably that we should talk louder,” he said, and set off through the woods again.

  Carly shook her head, put the note in her pocket, and followed him. She hadn’t forgotten the previous note or the broken rock it had predicted. But what danger was there in whispers?

  As they walked, Lewis kept hopping onto breezes and flying above the trees so he could see the smoke and make sure they were going in the right direction.

  “Why don’t I just fly ahead?” he said. “I’ll be there and back in no time.”

  “You can’t blow enough whistle roots to protect yourself,” said Carly. She had five whistle roots in her pocket and planned to use them if the owls attacked again. She had tied them together like a pan flute.

  “But what if the clouds cover the moon?” asked Lewis. “Without its light, I won’t be able to see the smoke.”

  Carly asked if he saw any clouds while flying above the trees and Lewis reluctantly admitted that he did not.

  “This is taking forever,” he complained. “You’re too slow.” And then he stopped, struck by an idea, and said, “Maybe I could teach you to fly.”

  “You could?” Carly was amazed at the suggestion.

  “Sure,” said Lewis. “It’s easy. Put your foot in the air, wait for a breeze, and then see if you can find the tisks with your toes.”

  “What’s a tisk?”

  Lewis stared at her.

  “What?” asked Carly. “I’ve never heard of them before.”

  Lewis’s little shoulders seemed to slump.

  “Oh, just tell me, for Pete’s sake,” said Carly. “You’re wasting time.” Lewis could be so difficult, but that often made Carly feel as if they had been friends for ages. And since she had never had a friend, the comfortable bickering made her feel good.

  Lewis took a deep breath. “Okay,” he finally said. “Put your foot in the air and tell me what a breeze feels like.”

  Carly did as he said and felt the breeze flowing across the bottom of her bare foot.

  It was hard to describe what it felt like. It felt like a breeze. It was slightly cool and made her foot tingle and gave her a slight shiver. But that was how the breeze made her feel. It was not how the breeze itself felt.

  “Smooth,” she finally said, unable to describe it any other way.

  “Ah, but it’s not,” said Lewis. “It may feel smooth at first, but if you really pay attention, you’ll find that it has little bumps and dents. Those are the tisks.” He put his own toes in the air. “There’s a tisk,” he said. “And there’s another one. Tisk, tisk, tisk.”

  Carly felt as if she was being scolded.

  “What do you do when you find them?” she asked.

  “You grab hold and fly,” said Lewis, making it sound as simple as getting on a bus.

  Carly tried several times, but was unable to feel anything like what Lewis had described. “Let’s just get going,” she said eventually. “I have to be back at my house by morning.”

  “Your toes are too big,” said Lewis, and flew into the treetops.

  AS THEY GOT CLOSER to the smoke, Carly walked quietly, for she kept hearing something that sounded like a whisper. She put her hand over the note in her pocket.

  “It’s probably just the breezes,” said Lewis, but she noticed he was looking around nervously. He even tapped a tree to make sure they weren’t dreaming.

  Smoke began drifting through the woods around them, and Lewis perched himself on Carly’s shoulder so that they wouldn’t get separated.

  “There it is!” he said suddenly, and Carly immediately saw it too.

  It was a giant old whistle root tree on a little rise with smoke pouring out of the tips of every branch they could see.

  It didn’t have any leaves, and its trunk looked almost white in the moonlight.

  “Dead trees don’t normally smoke, do they?” said Lewis, whispering in Carly’s ear.

  Carly was scared, but wanted to get a closer look, and walked cautiously forward. She noticed a circle of orange light near the base of the smoking tree and pointed it out to Lewis.

  “Stay here,” he said, and flew to the ground, then got down on all fours like a regular rat. He made no sound and was almost impossible to see as he crept forward.

  After a short time, Carly saw his dark shape appear in front of the orange light. He stood up for a moment and looked as though he was sniffing the air. And then he dropped back down and vanished.

  “Lewis!” she said as loud as she dared, but there wasn’t any answer.

  She moved toward the light but stopped when she heard the whispering sound again. What was it? It didn’t sound like a breeze to her.

  The wind started to blow. The dead branches of the smoking whistle root tree creaked and groaned. Carly couldn’t hear the whispers anymore.

  She started walking forward again. She was shaking with fright. She had barely reached the spot where Lewis had disappeared when she heard something that sounded almost like laughter.

  Griddle, griddle, griddle.

  Carly spun around. The sound had come from behind her. Her eyes were wide and she searched the darkness for whatever had made it.

  And there, sitting on a branch in a tree, was a creature that Carly had never seen before. It was covered in feathers and was grinning, and its white teeth and eyes glowed in the darkness.

  The wind died down and the creature began to whisper as it stared into Carly’s eyes.

  “Sleep,” it whispered, over and over again. “Sleep . . .”


  Carly’s eyes closed slightly and she began to feel tired, as she did every morning when the sun rose. But she did not fall asleep.

  “Sleep!” whispered the creature, a little more urgently now, and Carly saw that it wasn’t grinning anymore. It climbed down the tree and walked toward her.

  Carly stepped backwards. She felt clumsy. Each time the creature whispered, she felt her body weaken and her eyes start to close. But in between the whispers, she would grow stronger and more awake again.

  The creature was coming faster now, and Carly turned to run. Just as she did, the creature whispered “Sleep!” again, and her legs weakened for a moment, causing her to fall.

  As soon as she hit the ground, she flipped onto her back, pulled the whistle roots out of her pocket, and blew into them as hard as she could.

  The sound was just as it had been at the creek that night.

  The creature grabbed its ears and howled. Then it dropped to its knees and dug, pulling up clumps of dirt and stuffing them in its ears to block the sound. When that didn’t work, the creature jumped sideways and scurried through the trees on all fours.

  Lewis appeared then, coming out of the circle of orange light. Carly grabbed him, dropped the whistle roots back in her pocket, and ran.

  “PUT ME DOWN!” SAID LEWIS, when they had run a little way. He struggled with Carly’s fingers and looked prepared to bite one if he had to.

  Carly placed him on the ground and hoped they had gotten far enough away to be out of danger. She kept looking back to make sure the creature wasn’t following them.

  “Why did you blow those whistle roots?” demanded Lewis. “I’m surprised I haven’t gone deaf.”