by Sarah Webb
“I … I …” Tears began to prick Ruka’s eyes. She longed for Rowan to come and save her. Why did he have to disappear? Why couldn’t he be here for her, telling all these horrible people to stop picking on his little sister?
Some of the examiners had finally started to calm everyone down, but this still wasn’t enough. By now, Ruka was sobbing into her scarf. She wasn’t brave. She wasn’t strong. She wasn’t anything. One of the sorcerers put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She shrugged it off. She wanted to run far away from this place. And so – with the wind howling and her cloak flowing like a faded blue river behind her – that is exactly what Ruka did.
It wasn’t long before her legs were aching and her lungs were gasping for air. Gritting her teeth, Ruka tried to ignore how tired she was getting and kept running. Eventually huge trees – spindly and almost bare now that it was near winter – swallowed her surroundings and she finally allowed herself to stop for a moment.
She slumped to the ground and buried her face in her mittens. What would she tell her parents? That she was a failure? Desperate to avoid disappointing them, she had managed to hide her weakness for all these years but this time she couldn’t escape. Rowan had always been top of the class when it came to magic, but he had never boasted about it. He was the perfect student; something Ruka now felt she could never be.
A twig snapped. All of the despair in Ruka’s heart was suddenly replaced with fear. The fact that she was sat unarmed in a vast, gloomy forest made her shiver. Only the bravest of hunters dared enter places like this. There were always those who didn’t return – and Rowan was one of them. Young children were told never to leave their village because ‘bad things’ would happen. This was the furthest away from home Ruka had ever been and worst of all … she was alone.
She timidly raised her head, her eyes wide with fright as she scanned her surroundings. At first it seemed like nothing was there but then, she saw them.
A pair of golden, lamp-like eyes were staring at her from the early morning shadows. They gleamed as the light danced through the tree branches, yet the pupils were so sunless they seemed to cast the entire forest into darkness.
Ruka swallowed a scream and pressed her back into the bark of the tree. She couldn’t move.
Slowly, a paw emerged from the shade, followed by a long snout, ears that were stood to attention and an elegant, swishing tail. A wolf.
As it gradually came closer, Ruka could feel herself shaking. This was it. She was going to be eaten. Desperately, she tried to remain calm in the hope that the wolf would lose interest and go away but its eyes were fixed on hers, its gaze as pointed as knives. By now, Ruka was trembling all over. She turned away, not wanting to see the fangs that were about to gobble her up. Then she felt something like damp sandpaper on her cheek and every bone in her body went cold.
Ruka turned to face the wolf. It had just licked her.
She blinked a few times and stared at this now innocent-looking creature. Its thick snout and stocky build seemed to suggest it was male. He looked at her as if he was expecting something, his tail thumping the ground. When Ruka didn’t move, the wolf decided to take matters into his own hands.
He circled around a few times, almost as if he was chasing his tail. Ruka watched, still feeling a little nervous. What is he doing? she thought to herself. All the old stories Grandmother told me were about wolves who were evil and greedy. But this one looks just like a nice pet dog.
The wolf paused abruptly with his nose pointed to the sky. To begin with, nothing happened. But then, with a shudder, blue sparks appeared in the air just above the wolf’s muzzle. They flitted about for a moment before gently fusing themselves into a snowflake that rested on the tip of his snout. It was beautiful, like silver crystal that sparkled with glittery wonder.
Ruka couldn’t hide her amazement. Feeling a little more relaxed, she clapped at this strange sight. This seemed to please the wolf, a new energy awoke inside him and he began to dash about in excitement, leaving the snowflake to fall to the ground. This made Ruka giggle.
“Not so scary now, are you, Mr Wolf?” She grinned. The wolf began to pull on her cloak; he seemed to want her to follow him. Ruka laughed and got to her feet. Before she knew it, he was dashing off into the distance. No longer feeling any danger, she decided to follow.
The wolf yapped and barked happily as Ruka ran to keep up with him. This time, the breathlessness was different. It was filled with joy instead of sadness. There were no tears to blur her vision. She didn’t care where she was going any more. All that mattered was that she was having fun, as was this mysterious beast that occasionally seemed to look back at her with the closest thing to a smile that a wolf could wear.
At that moment, with a majestic sweep, the wolf’s tail began to dip towards the ground as he ran. Ruka watched in awe as his fur appeared to glow white. All of a sudden a sea of light washed over the forest and with a gasp, Ruka realised that she was running on the pearl-like surface of snow. It was the perfect kind; light and fluffy like one of her mother’s desserts but also sturdy enough to build the greatest of snowmen.
The wolf’s tail had become a sort of wand and every time it swished through the air, a small blizzard covered the once bleak forest. Ruka laughed – the sound like sleigh bells – as she danced and twirled in this wintery heaven. As a ray of sunlight pierced through the trees, the wolf ran in a circle around her and Ruka put her hands to her head, to feel tiny diamonds and delicate silvery flowers settling in her short, brown hair. It was like wearing a beautiful crown. Ruka blushed slightly as the wolf lowered his head in respect. In that moment, she became the Queen of this small wonderland.
It wasn’t long before the excitement began again. With a flick of the wolf’s nose and more swishes of his tail, mounds of snow began to gather all around Ruka. They grew arms, legs and even faces. Giant people, each of them glowing as the winter sun shone down on them, rose up from the ground. Each one smiled and bowed to Ruka. One of them even shook her hand! But it didn’t feel cold. Nothing in this world was cold.
The wolf still wasn’t finished building this magical kingdom for Ruka. Raising his head, he howled to the clouds above. That echoing sound sent sparks of energy through Ruka’s veins and she threw her head back and whooped in delight. Her heart felt electric and beat faster and faster. What new, wonderful things would be shown to her next?
In response to the wolf’s call, shining shards of ice flitted down from above. Up close, Ruka could see that they had tiny wings glittering with one thousand colours. They were fairies. Everything about them looked extremely fragile and Ruka suddenly became afraid of moving – for surely even the smallest motion could hurt them. But with a laugh, each fairy poked Ruka’s nose before disappearing in a puff of blue smoke, leaving a delicious cool breeze on her cheeks.
The wolf looked up at her, obviously proud of the world he had created. This was the happiest Ruka had felt for a long time. All traces of loneliness and shame had vanished. She wished this day could last for ever. But she knew that soon, she would have to go home and tell her parents about the test. She would have to return to the place where she was bullied every day, the place where she wasn’t important or special or the ruler of an entire world, however small.
Feeling a sudden rush of love, Ruka knelt down and threw her arms around the wolf, burying her face in his fur. It was soft and warm and she could feel the steady tick of his pulse next to her ear. The wolf’s tail wrapped around her and he nuzzled her shoulder with his nose.
“Thank you,” Ruka whispered, her voice wobbling slightly. The wolf gave a little whine in response and playfully licked her cheek. She laughed and hugged her new friend harder.
But then … the spell was broken.
Everything around the pair suddenly vanished. The snow, the giants and even the crown on Ruka’s head.
A sound of heavy footsteps grew closer and closer. The wolf went tense and every muscle beneath his fur seemed to strain. A sha
dow fell over her and Ruka felt awfully small. Shaking, she turned to face … a monster.
A warty, slimy face stared down at her. Yellow eyes with black slits for pupils met her own. The skin was a murky grey colour and was covered in deep scratches. Its body was huge and covered in mud. The only clean-looking thing about its appearance was its bared teeth; gleaming white and deadly sharp. A goblin.
Ruka just managed to scramble out of the way before it struck her with its claws. With a roar of frustration, the goblin leapt at her again. Once more, Ruka threw herself to the side, dodging the monster’s grasp.
Panic was flooding her thoughts. She cried out for someone to help her, but of course, nobody could hear. Only the wolf – but he seemed strangely calm. She looked down at him, searching for anything in his expression that might tell her what to do. The animal looked back at her with a determined gaze and Ruka thought she saw him nod his head. There was something strikingly familiar about the way he did so.
Be brave for me.
Those words flashed in Ruka’s memory like a bolt of lightning. Time seemed to slow down around her. With a quivering hand she brushed away the tears in her eyes and tried to steady herself as she heard a quiet voice in the back of her head saying, I know you can do it.
The goblin was coming closer, its claws and teeth prepared to strike. Ruka tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach as she reached out with her arms. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
There it was again. That tingling feeling. But it was only faint. Ruka’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about how afraid she was, about how this time she was definitely going to be eaten.
“No!” she told herself firmly. “I am strong. I am strong!”
She thought of the wolf, the way his fur had felt so warm and cosy. She thought of the joy she had felt racing him through the snow, the happiness she had felt when her little world was created.
The tingling was stronger than ever now. No, it wasn’t tingling. It was power!
As the goblin leapt forward, it cried out and Ruka (eyes still closed) did the same! As she did so, a chilling burst of power erupted from her fingertips and waves of sharp ice devoured the goblin. The monster was frozen in place.
It howled in agony, desperately trying to escape its new prison of a frozen body. But Ruka wouldn’t let it. She stamped her foot on the ground and from beneath the sole of her shoe, more ice spread across the forest floor and upwards, encasing the goblin in a shimmering blue cage. For the first time in her entire life, Ruka felt strong. A laugh managed to escape from her throat, even though she had thought all her breath vanished. She had just used magic.
“I always knew you were brave,” a voice from behind her said. “And I was right.”
That voice … was familiar. Already Ruka knew the face that it belonged to. But she didn’t want to turn around, just in case it was a dream. If she looked at the owner of that voice, the dream would end and she would wake up in her bed, with the sun streaming through the crack in the curtains and a stone in her heart.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t resist much longer.
“R-Rowan?” she asked timidly.
“Hello, Ruka,” her brother replied. With a snap of his fingers, the goblin faded away and silence returned to the trees once more. Ruka finally turned to face him. It was all familiar. The soft brown eyes, the messy chestnut hair and the dimple in the side of his face when he smiled. There was no doubt about it any more. After a whole year, her beloved older brother was stood in front of her.
She couldn’t hold it in any more. Ruka sprang into Rowan’s arms and sobbed. He held her tightly as she cried; the hug that she remembered hadn’t changed. And as he held her, he explained everything in his usual, gentle voice.
“There was a terrible accident, Ruka, while I was out hunting that day. I should have been gone for good. I thought it was all over for me. But I knew that couldn’t be. I couldn’t leave you, not forever. Then, by some miracle, a witch found me while on her travels.”
“A witch?” Ruka asked, looking wary. She had heard plenty of things about witches.
“Yes, a witch,” Rowan continued. “I begged her to do something, anything that would save me. She asked me what the one thing I wanted most was and I told her. I wanted to teach my little sister how to believe in her magic.
“Of course, making a deal with a witch is never easy. She used magic to keep me alive, but I was trapped in a wolf’s body. I couldn’t speak to you and I couldn’t come near the village. I felt so lonely and I missed our family very much. I thought about you every day.
“Then, another miracle happened. You found your way to this forest. You found me. We got to spend time together. And I got to make you see just how magic you are.”
Ruka stared at her brother in amazement. Suddenly everything made sense. Rowan had been the wolf all along. He had put on that incredible show for her. And he had summoned the goblin to teach her that she did have power. With the truth finally revealed, Ruka buried her face into Rowan’s chest, hugging him tightly once more.
“We can go home now, Rowan,” she said happily. “We can show everyone at school what I can do! Can you imagine how surprised they will all be? Then we can tell Mother and Father your story. They will be so happy to see you!”
Rowan smiled at her, but there was a sadness in his eyes. It was like a thin layer of mist covering a dazzling lake.
“No, Ruka,” he said softly. “I can’t come with you.”
A lump rose in Ruka’s throat and a sheet of tears slid over her dark eyes.
“W-why?” she asked, her voice suddenly a squeaking whisper. As soon as the question had passed her quivering lips, shining dust began to rise from her brother’s arms.
“I have to go,” he said, a smile still spread across his face. “I’ve done what I wanted to do and now the spell must end. I can leave happy.”
Rowan was glowing now, with what seemed like an entire galaxy of stars rising up from his body and towards the heavens. Something sharp tugged at Ruka’s chest. Her beloved brother was slipping away from her, disappearing like thousands of grains of sand sifting through her fingers. She clawed at his coat, holding on tight, but he was fading fast.
“No! NO!” Ruka cried. Tears were streaming down her face; she couldn’t let this happen.
Rowan said her name, but now even he couldn’t hide the choking sound in his voice as he held back his own tears.
“I love you, little sis. I’ll always love you,” he said. “But I want you to promise me something.”
Ruka stopped struggling and met her brother’s gaze. She nodded quietly.
“Promise me you will never forget how brave you really are, Ruka. And never, ever give up.”
Ruka blinked away the tears.
“I promise,” she said. Her voice had new strength. Rowan gave one last, dimpled smile and with a flash of light, his body turned into hundreds of golden stars rising into the sky. The scene almost seemed beautiful. Then, everything went quiet.
Ruka was left alone in the middle of the forest. But her heart was prepared. She knew what she had to do. With new power flowing through her, she began to retrace her steps through the trees, steady and determined. As her village and the school came back into view at last, Ruka pressed onwards. Words were whirling in her head. Familiar words but now they whirred and ticked in her brain with a new strength.
“I believe. I am brave.”
We opened a creative writing centre in Dublin’s inner city in January 2009. We called it Fighting Words – a temporary name that immediately felt like a good idea. We didn’t conduct extensive market research to see if it was wanted. Nor did we seek to align it with the formal education system. We took our belief in the enterprise from ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson, in Field of Dreams: “If you build it, they will come.”
We wanted to address the absence of outlets for children and young adults in Dublin to engage with creative writing, and the lack of time allowed for
it in the school curriculum. It seemed daft, in a country that prides itself in being a land of writers, that there was so little space for writing.
From the very beginning, the interest has been colossal. We host 10,000 students each year – mainly children and young adults – at creative-writing workshops and programmes. They are all free. Most of the students come with their schools, but we also host sessions outside of school time attended by a wide range of special-needs groups, as well as individual children and teenagers. Our tutors and mentors are volunteers. We have more than 400 of them.
We had our own inspiration: we’d visited 826 Valencia in San Francisco, a creative-writing centre established by the author Dave Eggers. We’d loved what we’d seen being done there – the way little kids were invited to put pen to paper, and the way monosyllabic teenagers were persuaded to write thousands of their own words. Since that project launched, similar creative-writing centres have opened all over the world: as well as our own Fighting Words here in Dublin, there are centres in Milan, Stockholm, London, Barcelona, Paris, Copenhagen, Amsterdam and Sydney, with plans for ones in Belfast, Vienna and Buenos Aires. All of these creative-writing centres are linked together informally. They communicate regularly, sharing ideas and experience.
Writing is a solitary occupation – eventually. But having witnessed it again and again over the last five years, we know that if it begins as a collective exercise, as a bit of fun, then by the time the children start to write by themselves, they produce better, more confident work. They’ve seen what they can do, the simple things that can make a good line brilliant, and they’re keen to give it a go themselves.
Quite soon after we opened, often at the suggestion of artists from other disciplines who wanted to get involved, we started to run programmes tailored towards other types of writing, including film scripts, plays, graphic novels, radio drama, journalism, songwriting and film animation. As with those we run for creative writing, the demand by children to participate is consistently staggering, and their creativity is extraordinary.
