“I have your basket for Großmutter,” said Mutti, folding the top of the napkin that lined the basket over the contents. “Some lovely apple cakes, a nice pat of butter, and that soft cheese she likes so much.” Mutti always sent Rosa with a basket to Großmutter, as if she needed someone else to do her cooking for her, although Rosa knew very well that Großmutter was as good a cook—or better—than Mutti. But she was too polite to say anything, and Großmutter always accepted the contents of the basket with grave thanks, so Rosa supposed that this was one of the many things children were supposed to be silent about.
Then Mutti tied Rosa’s pride and joy about her neck—a beautiful, bright red cape with a matching hood. Rosa always felt like a princess in this cape, which was a miniature copy of the riding capes that fine ladies wore to go hunting in. Mutti had copied it from an illustrated magazine that Vati had had brought from the city for her.
“Now go and take your lessons with Großmutter, and don’t dawdle on the way,” Mutti cautioned.
“I won’t, Mutti,” Rosa promised.
“And don’t speak to strangers.”
“I won’t, Mutti,” she promised again, although she could not imagine what strangers she could possibly meet on the path to Großmutter’s cottage. But Mutti had said that back in the city every time Rosa went out to play on the doorstep, so she supposed it must be habit from that time.
“And if you are kept too late, you may stay with Großmutter,” Mutti concluded, albeit reluctantly. “I don’t want you wandering in the forest at sundown. There are wolves. And bears.”
Rosa stifled a sigh. Of course there were wolves and bears. Everyone knew that. That was why there was a wolf or a bear on practically every piece of Schwarzwald carving. And stags, but her mother never warned her to beware of stags, even though Großmutter had told her that they could be just as dangerous as a bear. “Yes, Mutti,” she said dutifully.
“Now off you go.”
Finally, Rosa was free to scamper out the door, through the vegetable garden that was Vati’s pride, and out the gate to the path that led to Großmutter’s house.
The first part of her journey was out of the village and through all the village fields. She always ran through this part; the farm fields and small pastures held very little interest for her. The land had been tamed, controlled, and confined. Everything was neat, everything was regimented. She always felt a little stifled when in the village or its farmlands. It was nothing like as bad as it had been when she’d lived in a city, but . . . well, it was akin to being forced to wear your Sunday best all the time. You couldn’t really be yourself. The land wasn’t itself.
She was always glad when she got out of the farmlands and into the water meadow. While the meadow and its pond weren’t exactly wild, not like the forest, they were still much freer than the farmed land. Nothing grew in the meadow or in the pond that was deliberately planted. The village ducks and geese grazed here, and the village goats, but that was about the extent of the hand of man. Rosa slowed to a fast walk as soon as the path crossed the boundary of the meadow.
Here was where she finally saw the first of the Elementals—other than brownies—that lived around the village. The village was full of brownies, of course, even if no one but Rosa and her parents were aware of them. It was a wholesome, earthy place, and brownies were the Elementals not only of Earth, but of hearth and home. Virtually every household in the village had at least one brownie seeing to it that all was well in the house, and that any accidents were small ones. Rosa’s household had three, because of her magic.
But here in the water meadow was where she started to see the wild ones. There was a little faun that she thought lived here. Not like the ones in the woods, who were older, somehow more goatlike, and were always looking at her slyly out of their strange eyes. This was a very little fellow, shy, and often found napping in the sun. There was a tree-girl here as well, though she held herself aloof from the faun. There were entire swarms of the sorts of little creatures that were in picture books, little grotesques with fat bodies and spindly legs, or made with parts of ordinary animals, birds, and insects. She didn’t have names for them, and neither did Großmutter, who just called them “alvar.” No matter how odd they looked, they were playful and friendly, and Rosa wished she had lived here when she was younger, because she could have run down here to play with them.
She was not free to do so today, though, so she waved at the ones she saw and plunged into the forest. “Plunged” was the right word; the Schwarzwald was a very old forest, and once you got onto the paths within it, you found yourself in a dark and mysterious place. Tree trunks towered all around, like pillars holding up a green ceiling high, high above. Here and there shafts of sunlight pierced the gloom. The forest floor was thick with old leaves and needles, soft with moss, rippling with roots. And normally, it felt welcoming to Rosa. But today . . .
Well, today the forest felt . . . uneasy. Not so much near the village, but the deeper she got into it, the more it felt as if the forest were holding its breath, and that many of the animals and creatures that dwelled here were hiding from . . . something.
Rosa had had that same feeling in here before, now and again. Nothing had ever come of it, but when she asked Großmutter about it, the elder Magician had pulled a long face. “There are dark tales in the forest,” she had said. “And most of them are true. Hurry your steps, and do not tarry when the trees hold their breath and the fauns hide in their caves. And never go there after dark until you are older and much more powerful.” That seemed like good advice to Rosa . . . and she was heeding it now. Instead of sauntering along her way, stopping to look at something interesting or to collect bird feathers and the mushrooms Großmutter had taught her were safe, she sped up, gathering her little cloak about her, for suddenly the shadows beneath the trees seemed cold.
She was halfway to Großmutter’s cottage when she rounded a twist in the path and was stopped dead in her tracks by the sight of a man she did not know ahead of her.
Now, the forest was very famous. And her village was well known for wood carving. Strangers were known to trek through the forest for pleasure, especially in the summer, although this was the first time that Rosa had encountered a man she didn’t recognize inside the forest and not in the village.
But there was something about this man she did not like, and she could not have said why.
Whether or not he had been walking before he saw her, he had stopped now, and was waiting; she could not go farther without passing him, and he watched her every move with eyes that gleamed with an unfathomable expression. Slowly, and with deep reluctance, she approached him.
He was dressed like a hunter—leather trousers tucked into leather boots, green wool jacket, green wool hat, and game bag—but he wasn’t carrying a rifle or a bow. But maybe he was one of those foreigners. A foreigner would think that hunting gear was the sort of thing you should wear to walk in the forest.
The hat looked a little odd on his head; he had longish, shaggy hair of mixed brown and gray, although he didn’t look all that old. He was clean-shaven, but his features were—well, she’d have called him ugly if she’d dared. But she was only a little girl, and children were supposed to be respectful of their elders. His eyes glittered beneath his hat-brim, a strange yellow-brown. She really didn’t know what to make of him, except that if she hadn’t been halfway to Großmutter’s—and if she hadn’t been half-scared he would chase her if she ran—she’d have turned around and pelted all the way back home.
“Hello, little girl,” the man said, when she finally stopped on the path, unwilling to get any closer. “What would your name be and where are you from?”
“Rosamund Ackermann, sir,” she said politely. “I come from Holzdorf.” He must be a foreigner. The only way the path behind her led was to Holzdorf.
He nodded approvingly. “And what is such a little creature like you doing
out here in the dark forest all alone?” He didn’t move, yet somehow he seemed to loom over her, and the place where he stood got a little darker.
Magic. It must be magic that I feel on him. Maybe he was Air . . . Air and Earth did not get along at all. She gathered her little power about her and inched a bit sideways off the path, trying to move without looking as if she was doing so. “I am going to my grandmother’s house, sir,” she said, still remaining polite. “Mother says that she is old, and it is hard for her to cook now.” It was very important that a magician not lie! But this was not a lie. Mutti did say that, even though it was not true.
“And what does your grandmother do, all alone in that cottage in the woods?” the stranger asked, his eyes glittering. “Does she make potions? Does she have any strange animals about?”
Oh! Now she knew why she didn’t like him! Großmutter had warned her about men like this. They were looking for witches, and if they found any, would hurt them! Großmutter had even warned her that such men might have magic themselves and not know it, or pretend they didn’t, or tell themselves it was some sort of God-given power.
“She knits,” Rosa said truthfully. “And sews. She has two little hens for her egg in the morning.” She wouldn’t tell him about the goat. “And she mends stockings. Mother has her mend all our stockings.” Also true. Mutti hated mending stockings, and Großmutter didn’t mind.
The man looked vaguely disappointed, which made her think that her guess was right. He was looking for witches. “Why does she live by herself in the forest? Shouldn’t she move to the village where it is safer?”
“My mother says there is no room for her in our cottage, sir,” she replied, which was not strictly true but also was not a lie. Mutti had not said so, but every time Vati mentioned the idea, she made a face. It wasn’t as if Großmutter was Rosa’s real grandmother. after all, and Mutti always replied with, “But what if your father or mine needs to move in with us?”
Rosa didn’t think that was likely to happen. Both grandfathers were vigorously pursuing pretty young widows. She knew Mutti had gotten used to having her own little house with just Vati and her in it, and didn’t want to share, particularly not with an old lady who might be demanding, interfering, or critical. Rosa might be very young, but there was a great deal she understood quite well.
The man made a stern face. “Your father—” he began, then shook his head in disapproval. Rosa began to inch her way around him. “Women should know their place,” he told Rosa sternly. “It is for the man to say what is to happen in his own house.”
“Yes, sir,” Rosa said automatically. She was almost halfway around him, although she had to go a good five feet off the path to do so.
Fortunately, he was now so engrossed in his own lecture that he didn’t seem to have noticed what she was doing. “Women and girls do not have strong enough minds to know what is best for them,” he said, looking thunderous. “Women and girls must be obedient to men in all things. They must confine themselves to the tasks that God suited them for. Work in the home, childbearing, and childrearing. They are too given to emotion to make any good decisions—like your mother, child.”
By this point she was all the way around him and back on the path, and this seemed to be the opening she needed to get away from him. She ducked her head. “And my father has said I must take these things to Grandmother, and hurry, and not dawdle on the way, sir. So I must be going. Good day to you! Holzdorf is just ahead of you!” And before he could respond to that, she turned and scampered up the path, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the unpleasant stranger.
She was afraid he might call after her, but he did not.
The forest, however, remained strangely dark, and unusually quiet, as if something in it was disturbing everything. She didn’t see a single Elemental, which made her unhappy and uneasy. Then again, that stranger had made her very disturbed, and she could easily see him having that effect on the entire forest. He was just nasty—and if he had been going off the path, poking about in the forest a bit, snooping, well . . . if she had been an Elemental, she would have hidden, too.
As soon as she was sure he wasn’t going to call after her or, worse, chase after her, she slowed to a fast walk. Normally she took her time going through the forest, because she liked it so much, but today, well, she just wanted to get to Großmutter’s house as quickly as she could.
It seemed to take much, much longer than usual, as if the path had somehow doubled in length, although she knew that could not possibly be so.
She almost sobbed with relief when she finally saw the little branching path that led to Großmutter’s cottage. She ran again, all the way up the path, through silence that was so thick it felt like fog around her, ran until she reached the door, pulled the latch-string, pulled it open, and shut it tight behind her.
The cottage was very dark, darker than twilight. Something was not right.
“Grandmama?” she called into the dark.
The cottage was a single room, with Großmutter’s bed in a little nook at the rear, which was now deeply in shadow. Something stirred back there.
Something was very wrong. She felt it deep inside her, worse than when she had been in the forest. But how could that be? This was Großmutter’s cottage, the safest place in the forest!
“Rosa?” said a strange voice. “Is that you, child?” There was a cough. “I am not well. Come closer. Did you bring me something from your mother?”
Rosa took a cautious step toward the bed. It should be Großmutter there. She couldn’t imagine how it could be anyone except Großmutter. “Grandmama? You sound strange.”
“I took a chill,” said the hoarse voice. “Come closer, child.”
Another step. “Grandmama?” She could see Großmutter’s nightcap in the shadows around the bed. “Why is it so dark?” She peered anxiously into the shadows, her little heart pounding. A pair of eyes seemed to gleam in the darkness beneath the cap. “Why are your eyes so bright?”
“So that I may see you better, my dear,” said the voice.
Rosa shivered at the shadows, clutching her basket. It felt as if an icy drop of water were creeping down her spine. “Grandmama? Something is not right—”
It was a good thing she was poised to flee, because whatever was in Großmutter’s bed suddenly heaved up and leaped right over the top of her. It might have pounced on her, too, if she hadn’t ducked and scuttled out of the way. It landed between her and the door.
“Enough!” howled the thing as she backed away from it. It lunged for her.
She shrieked in pure terror. And the thing winced back, clapping its paws over its ears, an expression of acute pain twisting its features. That gave her enough time to run for the pantry, wrench the door open, slam it shut behind herself, and lock it from the inside.
She could lock herself in, even though most pantries were made to lock on the outside, because Großmutter had had it made that way—one safe place that she, or Rosa and she, could hide in if something bad happened.
Something bad, very bad, like the horrid creature with the stranger’s eyes, a hoarsened version of the stranger’s voice, the body of a man, and the pelt, paws, and claws, and twisted facial features of something that was a half-man and a half-wolf.
The door shuddered as the thing flung itself against the wood. She wanted badly to just drop onto the floor, pull her cape over her head, and hide. But Großmutter had taught her better than that. Despite her terror, Rosa twisted her fingers in frantic patterns as she made the wood come alive, knit itself into the door frame, and start to grow at preternatural speed. At least that was what she was trying to do—she couldn’t actually see what she was doing, but a moment after she made the magic, she put her hand on the door and felt the rough bark of a living tree instead of the hewn wood of the door. The wood still vibrated under her hand but no longer shuddered. She was safe f
or now.
But she was also trapped.
She felt along the shelves until she put her hand on the wooden box of candles. Beside it was the box of Lucifer matches. Carefully, she struck one and lit the candle.
And screamed. For sharing the pantry with her was the mangled body of Großmutter.
She clutched the candle and screamed and screamed and screamed, weeping with terror and loss.
She screamed until she ran out of breath, took another breath, and screamed more. From the other side of the door came the shriek of terrible claws rending the wood.
The bare tip of a claw gleamed in the candlelight, reawakening her to her danger. Frantically, she put her hand against where the door had been and felt the talons tearing it away. Feeling the power drain from her, she made the wood grow again, and from the other side came a terrible howl of rage and frustration and the sound of claws shredding wood with renewed fury.
She didn’t know what to do. Somewhere out there, there were people who could help her, but Großmutter had not told her how to call them yet!
She didn’t know why she did what she did next. She just did it, out of pure fear and desperation. She dropped the candle, which rolled and went out, leaned into the living door, put both palms against it, and cried out in terror.
“HELP ME!”
It was as if a shudder went through everything, and a moment after that . . . an enormous silence. Even the thing outside the door paused. It really did seem as if everything held its breath—
Then the monster howled in triumph, and every hair on her head stood straight up. She had thought she was frightened before. She was so terrified, she couldn’t even shriek. She couldn’t even breathe.
The creature redoubled its efforts on her door, and she kept trying to renew the wood, her little strength fading more with each try. She began to feel faint each time she made the wood grow. She hardly had the strength to stand upright, and supported herself against the rough bark of the door—
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