by Holly Hook
I wouldn't rest until I got my brothers back.
Isiah crying.
It was all I could think about as I studied the ball of yarn. Only he couldn't cry now. He could only do whatever it was that swans did when they were scared.
I opened the door. The forest spread out around me and I gulped. The ball of yarn was just as warm as it had been the night before. It was wound tight in a perfect ball of purple that gave off the magical radiance. I turned in a circle. My limbs felt weak. I needed to eat first. The carrots in the shed were so old they would sicken me.
"Show me food," I ordered the yarn.
It obeyed. The yarn rose from my hands and unraveled. The purple string curved into the forest on my left and I followed.
Without it, I would die out here.
I followed through trees that remained as tall and thick as ever. Pines creaked in the wind and I watched the skies, waiting for any pure white birds to fly over. None came. I wondered if my brothers had headed for water, if they had only swan instincts now or if they had retained their memories. The yarn floated next to me, a tether to survival, and I walked for what felt like hours. The purple line never seemed to end and I wondered if it could stretch to the moon if I asked it to take me there. The terrain remained hilly and I found myself climbing more than one.
My head felt ready to split open with hunger and thirst when I saw it.
Several low buildings through the trees along with a clearing.
I picked up my pace. The yarn continued to point there and I searched the grounds for any sign of people. The buildings were low and brown and reminded me of stables, but they were better built and covered in tan paint. I stepped out into the clearing.
This almost looked like a village, but unlike one I had ever seen before.
The low buildings looked like our cabin, only longer, and were arranged in a circle around a central campfire area that looked abandoned, with charred logs in the middle of a wire cage. A dirt road stretched into the forest and there were tracks on it like many carriages had come and gone. No one moved. No one was even here. A large sign stood by the road, but it was facing away from me so I couldn't tell what it said.
The yarn was pointing me to a low building behind the others, one that was bigger and painted a bright yellow color. There, it ended.
I followed it and found that the front double doors were unlocked. A padlock hung broken as if someone had already broken in.
I pushed the doors open. No one was here, either. The place was so quiet that it was making me nervous. This was a room full of long tables, like a dining hall. A couple more doors were open at the other side of the room.
If this was a dining hall, there would be a kitchen attached.
And food.
The yarn had been right.
I stepped inside and my shoes made tapping noises against the floor. It was made of something that looked like stone, but was polished and came in whitish gray tiles. Picrures of boys in brown uniforms and hats and sashes with buttons hung on the walls, and they looked better than any portraits I had seen back in Fable. My heart ached. These boys were the same age as my brothers, ranging from five all the way up to Irving's age. They all smiled out at me, happy and carefree, as they stood in front of campfires and forests and cabins. This was a place for boys. Maybe a training place for knights. I shook my head. That couldn't be it. This world didn't have knights. It had, once, according to Father, but those days had been gone for hundreds of years.
Behind me, there was a soft rustling as the yarn rolled back up.
The kitchen.
I opened the back door all the way to be met with another room, this one much smaller and filled with metal chests. I opened one and cold air floated over me from below, soothing my headache.
There were boxes here. And ice clinging to the inside of the chest.
Boxes with pictures of brown sandwiches with white filling, and cones with that same kind of filling in a ball on top.
I didn't care what it was. I grabbed a box and pulled out the freezing cold sandwiches. They were in white wrappers, which I had learned to take off of everything in this world before eating. The sandwiches were amazing, like sweet frozen milk, and I devoured four or five of them before my headache began to vanish. This was something Father hadn't brought us before. I sat down on the floor, not caring if I wasn't supposed to be here. I was feeling better and I could survive long enough to find my brothers.
The yarn rolled into the tiny room and stopped.
I wondered if it could think.
"Thank you," I told it, just in case.
I sat there for a long time, planning what to do next. Father wouldn’t know about my brothers for a while—unless he came to visit the cabin today or sometime in the next few days. I could only think about how I had let my brothers down. I shouldn’t have let Irving go out to get the gas. I should have said no.
The remaining sandwiches got soft in the box, so I put them back in the giant icy chest. Annie no longer had the yarn. I had that on my side. I took inventory of the food I had, opening all the refrigerators and even a room that was cold inside and packed with hot dogs, lettuce and hamburger meat. This place was used to feeding lots of people.
Lots of hungry boys.
Boys like my brothers.
I left the dining hall and the pictures behind. The other small cabins were all locked as well as another large building that might be for the trainer or the master around here, because it was surrounded with white and yellow flowers and had deer antlers hanging over the door. Maybe this was a place to train young huntsmen. Hunting wasn’t dead in this world yet. It was one thing it still had in common with Fable.
But one cabin in the very back was unlocked. In fact, the doorknob hung loose on it as if someone had broken in. A bandit, maybe. This world had those, too, from what Father told me, and they were just as dangerous in this world. They might even carry these things called guns, which worked just as well as any killing spell.
But when I opened the door to the cabin, it was empty.
There were a dozen beds, set up in two rows, and a walkway that went in between them. I stepped in, resisting the urge to flop down on the green sheets and fall asleep. I needed the rest. I had barely slept at all in the shed overnight and I’d need a clear head to find my brothers. The yarn would take me to them when I was ready.
But what would I do when I found them again?
I didn’t have any magic myself.
I opened one of the glass windows and let the air blow in. It was cool fall air, but not too cool. Winter would come soon in this world and faster than I would like.
I couldn’t resist. I laid down on one of the beds and closed my eyes, letting the breeze wash over me. I started to drift as soon as my head hit the pillow. Rest was needed. I couldn’t go much longer without it.
Strange images floated in front of my eyes. Isiah crying. A swan with a black tear running down the side of its face. I tried to swim to it, but it turned away and made it to the other side of the river. The water closed around my head and rushed me away, and as much as I kicked my feet, I couldn’t reach the surface. I was drowning.
And I had no way to get out.
Chapter Three
Wings fluttered and beat against glass. Wind blew against my face and the fluttering noise got so loud that I had to open my eyes, as much as I hated to.
And I screamed.
White feathers beat everywhere and fell to the floor, to the bed, to me. I sat up and the giant birds surrounded me on all sides. The strength of their wings shocked me like the strength of the river. I shielded my face with my hand, expecting a blow, but it never came. Feathers brushed me and the beating noise calmed, then stopped.
I sucked in a breath.
And opened my eyes.
My purple ball of yarn rolled to the floor.
Six beautiful swans stood around my bed, all staring at me with their black eyes and pointing at me with their equally black be
aks. They were much larger than I expected and all about the same size.
It was them.
My brothers.
“Irving?” I asked. “Ike? Isiah?”
Feathers exploded in a storm of white and the air filled with a warm, tingly feeling. When the feathers fell, covering my bed, all six of my brothers stood there, in order of height. Behind them, the sun got low in the sky, turning everything orange.
“Immanuel?” I continued.
Irving took a breath as if relieved that he was out of the swan shape. All six of them were there, as good as ever and as human as ever. I eyed the ball of yarn on the floor. Maybe it had lifted their curse. They were back. I was so relieved that I had to hold back tears.
“Ignacia!” Isiah said, jumping into my arms.
I hugged him tight, so glad that he was back. He was so happy that I couldn’t help but smile along with him. “How did you guys find me?” I asked.
“We watched you moving through the forest and following the yarn here,” Irving told me. He kept his I-Don’t-Care tone all the way through. I loved it now. I loved my brothers just the way they were and as long as Annie didn’t find us, they could be as obnoxious as they wanted. “Annie wasn’t far behind you for a while, so we didn’t dare fly down to you because she might have noticed that. We saw you jump in the river and everything. I have to admit, that was pretty bold.” He grinned with pride.
“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t jump into a river,” I said.
Irving smiled. “You never swam in the one at home.”
“That’s because it wasn’t proper for a princess to do.” I was getting the idea that things were different in this world. “Princes get to do whatever they want.”
“That’s great,” Irving said. Then he faced Immanuel and Ivan. “Should we tell her now?”
“Tell me what?” I asked.
“About our curse,” Irving said.
“It’s bad,” Isiah said. “I don’t like being a swan. It feels strange.”
“You have feathers in places,” Ike said.
“That’s enough. I get it,” I said, afraid I was in for another gross boy conversation.
Immanuel wasn’t going to show any mercy. “But the whole world is your outhouse. You don’t have to find one anymore.”
“I said that’s enough,” I said. “Tell me about this curse. And tell me that Annie went in another direction.” I eyed the forest outside the window to make sure no one in a red dress was coming. It was clear.
“When Annie cursed us,” Irving said, “the knowledge of the curse came to us. It must have been inside those shirts she made us wear. We only get to take a break from being swans for fifteen minutes each day. After that, it’s feathers in places all over again.”
“And going to the bathroom everywhere,” Immanuel reminded me.
“What?” I asked. “The curse is still on you?”
Irving shook his head and leaned against a bed post. “Afraid so. But good news. We haven't seen Annie."
I couldn't breathe a sigh of relief. “What if she finds this place?"
Irving spoke again. He’d clearly been elected the spokesperson by my other brothers. “She must be gone,” he said. “And this is a big forest. We’ve flown around all day. I think this is a camp that people only use during the summer, so no one will be here for a long time. But we did see this carriage without any horses coming and going earlier this morning before you got here. A man and a woman got out and broke into a couple of buildings, including this one. I don’t know who they were, but you might want to watch out for them. They could be dangerous.”
I hadn’t yet met any of this world’s people and didn’t know how to act if I did. But breaking into places sounded like something that robbers did. I shuddered. “Maybe they just needed some food.”
“Maybe,” Irving said.
“But they looked mean,” Ike added. “Like bandits.”
“As long as they or Annie don’t come back, I’ll be fine out here for a bit,” I said, not meaning it at all. I didn’t like the thought of being out here with Annie around or any dangerous people from this world, even if they didn’t have any magic. My brothers couldn’t be here all the time. “Is there a way to remove this curse? If you have knowledge of it, you should be able to tell me.”
Irving frowned. He was losing his composure. Isiah’s tears began to flow again. Ike shrunk back against the wall to join Immanuel, who was no longer smiling and wanting to gross me out. Ivan stayed very quiet and Isaac did the same. The boy hadn’t spoken at all since he got here. The hope had gone right out of him.
“You can tell me,” I repeated. Curses in Fable were not easy to remove, but I steeled myself, waiting for what was to come.
Irving swallowed. “You don’t want to do it.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” And I would.
"You shouldn't have to," Immanuel said.
"Just tell me how to lift your curse."
Immanuel gulped. "You have to weave us shirts. Shirts out of starwort. And then they need some touch of magic."
I thought of the purplish flowers that grew in the forest back in Fable. They weren't very common, but not rare, either. "Out of the blossoms?"
"Yes," Irving said. "As much as I'm not thrilled about putting on a shirt made of flowers, I'll do it to lift this curse. You'll have to make six of them."
"But that'll--" I started.
"Take a long time," Irving finished.
I imagined trying to weave six shirts out of those and I had to struggle not to let the hopelessness come over me. It would take forever and I wasn't sure how it would work. I gulped. "I'll get to work," I said.
"There's something else," Immanuel said.
"You can't talk to anyone but us," Ivan added. "At all. Not until you're done."
"I can't talk?" I asked. "How do I get around in this world?"
Irving shrugged. "I'm not sure, but we'll watch out for you. Once you start working, you have to stop speaking to anyone but us, or the magic won't work."
I thought of never being able to speak to anyone I encountered out here. "What about writing?" I asked.
"You can't do that, either." Irving shrugged. "I wouldn't even risk drawing pictures." The mood in the room dropped as the sun sank lower and the light dimmed.
Despair set over me.
This was a long, long sentence.
But I had to do it. My brothers were relying on me.
And I wouldn't let them down. I'd make them these shirts if it killed me.
Chapter Four
We embraced, and with another explosion of feathers, my brothers had become swans again.
They turned away from me as if too embarrassed to be seen in those forms and flew out the window, one by one. I watched them go and listened to the sounds of their wings beating as they flew away. A single white feather fell to the floor. I leaned over and picked it up, turning it over again and again.
It was my brothers' prison.
Six shirts.
From flowers.
I could never weave them quickly. It would take months, if not years and I was all alone out in this world.
I waited until all the fluttering had vanished before I let the tears fall out. Now that no one could see me, I was free to feel. Free to wish I had someone to lean on right now.
I lay on the bed next to the ball of yarn. With horror, I wondered if it would still follow my commands if I couldn't speak a word. I grabbed onto it, unable to wait for the answer.
Take me to some starwort, I thought.
And to my amazement, the ball of yarn rose from my hands. It was still working. I still had something on my side here.
The string unraveled and headed for the door, then stopped. I rushed over and opened it onto the evening and watched the yarn extend out into the dark forest, not stopping. The ball next to me stayed the same size as more fiber came off, forming a long line into the dusk. The yarn moved fast, even faster than a car
riage with galloping horses. The starwort was a ways away. I counted the minutes it took. Two. Three. Five. Ten.
Quite far away.
Maybe even tens of miles away or even more.
I'd never reach it by time night fell and get back in time. And Annie was still out there, hunched in a meadow.
Come back, I thought. There were some blossoms back in Fable. More flowers grew in Fable than they did here, and in Fable it was always the warm season. At least, in the lighter region it was. I'd have better luck crossing back over, finding it there, and bringing it back.
It would just be a matter of finding another portal.
And I couldn't do that in the middle of the night with Annie lurking around.
The yarn continued to move, heading out into the wilderness to the distant starwort, but after more silent begging, it slowed and returned. I watched as the yarn rolled back up into a ball as the last of the day faded away. I opened the door to the cabin, found my bed, and lay down among the feathers.
It was all that was left of my brothers.
But then I remembered that most portals only opened at midnight. Father would always leave in the evening to find one whenever he came to visit us out at the cabin. There was something magic about that hour, even here in this world. If I was going to find a better way to find the starwort, it was going to be that.
I forced myself back off the bed. I’d have to take the risk, the risk that Annie might be trying to get back to Fable as well. I lifted the ball of yarn, went back outside, and closed the cabin door behind me.
And a low, rumbling sound met my ears.
I froze. I had never heard a sound like that before, but it was coming from the direction of the road. It sounded like some monstrous carriage…only, not quite. I stood there, watching the road, and a pair of distant lights peeked through the trees as the sound got louder. Those lights were getting closer. I thought of those people the boys had warned me about, the ones breaking into the buildings here, and I faced the yarn. I had to get out of here.
Take me to Fable, I thought.
