“No, Zephyr, that’s not why,” Grandma Fawna says. Flora comes back with a dry tunic and leggings for me. “Put these on,” Fawna says as she rises to put the kettle over the fire. “Then we’ll have a nice, long talk over a cup of tea.”
chapter 20
I CURL UP in Grandma’s rocking chair under a heavy blanket with the fire roaring in front of me. Fawna sits across from me in Grandpa’s matching rocker. As usual, she looks as calm as a clear blue sky, even though all around us everything is falling apart. I can’t muster any interest in the lady slipper tea with honey or the dried-blueberry rusk she’s put on my lap. I should be famished after all the running and zapping I did, but my appetite is gone. I’m too worried about Briar, my mom, Willow, Kenji, and especially Timber.
“Worrying yourself sick won’t help,” Grandma tells me for the millionth time when she sees me frowning into the steam coming off my tea.
“But what if . . . ?” I start to say.
“What-ifs never help.”
“Grandma!” I set my tea down. “You’re killing me. How can you be so calm? What is it that you need to tell me about Timber.”
“I think it’s time you know the truth about him.” Grandma leans forward and rests her hands on her knees. I lean forward and hold my breath. “He carries a troubling mark, but before I can explain, I have to back up.”
“Argh!” I moan and flop back in my seat. Everything has to be a history lesson with her. But I know that the quicker I shut up and listen, the quicker she’ll get to the point.
She absently rubs one of her amulets between her thumb and forefinger as she explains. “You see, a very long time ago all the magical creatures of the world and the erdlers intermingled quite easily. If you listen to any of the old erdler stories, they even talk about it. The wolf in ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ The troll in ‘Three Billy Goats Gruff.’ The giant in ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’ Nowadays, erdlers think those stories are only children’s play. But they aren’t. They’re true, or as true as any old story can be.” She sits back and rocks easily as she talks. “They’ve probably been changed over time, but as you know, things such as gnomes and pixies and fairies really did exist.”
“What’s this have to do with Timber?” I ask, impatient for her to get on with it.
She holds up her hand and, as usual, is in no hurry. “Erdlers can be quite an aggressive bunch when they feel threatened,” Grandma says with a sigh. “It’s one of their worst traits. So the erdlers of old simply eradicated the beasts they didn’t like. Some of the more peaceful creatures, like elves, well, we just slipped away and formed our own quiet communities out of the erdlers’ way. But then some creatures decided they liked the erdler world better with all its gadgetry and motion. They decided to pass.”
“Pass what?” I ask.
“Pass as erdlers,” she explains. “So some fairies, pixies, ogres, shape-shifters, what have you, slowly drifted away into erdler life. They didn’t use their magic anymore, so no one suspected them.”
“Elves, too?” I ask.
“Oh sure,” she says. “Many elves have done that over the centuries. They’ve walked away from our settlements to live among the erdlers. Like your family did. The difference is that no one ever came back. Until you, of course.”
“Like your cousin Hyacinth?” I ask.
Grandma nods, but she looks uncertain. “Not everyone who left turned dark, though.”
I shift uncomfortably. “After all the trouble we’ve caused today, I think I know why the others never came back.”
Grandma nods. “Mixing together can certainly complicate the world.” She sips her tea then continues. “Eventually those who walked away intermarried with the erdlers and had children and never let on that they had another side. Their children were half magical, then the next generation was a quarter magical, and so on until their natural ability for magic became so diluted that erdlers carrying any of these marks wouldn’t know they had it.”
I sit up straight with my heart revving. “Are you saying Timber is part elf?” I ask hopefully.
She shakes her head. “No, dear, I’m not.”
I slump back. “Then what is he, Grandma?”
“A hamrammer,” she says.
I look at her blankly. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a kind of shifter,” she says slowly. “One who takes an animal form. They could take many different forms—bears, dogs, boars . . .”
“So what’s Timber?” I ask, sitting now on the edge of my chair.
“Wolf,” she says.
I fall back, making the chair rock as I think about his eyes, his smile, the way I’ve felt he wanted to devour me. “But . . . but . . . but . . .” I sputter.
“There’s a very contentious history between elves and the hamrammers , especially the wolf people, or werewolves as erdlers like to call them, but that sounds a bit silly to me. Like something out of those vampire stories everyone goes on about.”
“Were vampires real?” I ask, creeped out now.
“Heavens no!” she says with a snort. “That’s just erdler fantasy made up to sell lots of books.”
I shake my head. “How do you know all this?”
“I’m not as clueless as you think, Zephyr. I watch that TV contraption in your house and I sometimes even read the newspaper.”
“Whoa.” I shake my head at the thought of my grandmother watching Entertainment Tonight and reading the Daily News. “But what I mean is, how do you know this about Timber? How can you be sure?”
“I can see the mark he carries,” she says. “I don’t know how to explain it to you beyond that. It’s part of my power, I suppose.”
Still skeptical, I ask, “Do you see marks on other erdlers?”
This cracks my grandma up. “Yes, all the time! I find it quite funny all these erdlers walking around part fairy, part gnome, part ogre, and they don’t even know it.” Her laugh is light and happy, but I’m freaking out because my grandmother is telling me I’m dating Teen Wolf.
“Are any of my other friends, you know, marked?”
She nods. “But I’m not going to tell you who. I don’t think it’s good for you to know because really, in the end, you must keep it a secret from them.” The smile disappears from her face. “Same is true for Timber. He mustn’t know.”
“And today in the woods . . .” I start to say.
“It came out in him because he was protecting something he cares a great deal about.”
“Me?” I ask, feeling my eyes sting with the memory of Clay advancing on me.
“I misjudged him because of my feelings about wolf people from the past. They used to ransack elfin villages and carry off babies to devour. They were a violent and nasty bunch. But I was wrong about Timber. I should have gotten to know him, then I would have seen that despite— or even perhaps because of—his family history, he is a good person. What’s more, he and I have something in common.”
I blink at her, trying to figure out what Timber and Fawna could possibly have in common.
“We both care about you,” she says.
“Do Mom and Dad see Timber’s mark?” I ask.
Grandma shakes her head. “Probably only a few of the older elves can see it. It’s a subtle thing.”
“But what about Clay and Dawn?” I ask. “Why are they here?”
Grandma rubs the amulet around her neck. “I don’t know, but I suspect when Timber gets here with the fox, we’ll figure out some answers.”
Outside we hear a commotion. I run to the window to see half the men in my family coming into the clearing behind my grandparents’ house, and there, in the midst of them, is Timber. I head for the door.
My aunts and cousins flood out into the clearing. Briar’s mom, Flora, throws her arms around Uncle River’s neck. “For thunder’s sake, what took you so long? We’ve been worried sick!”
I hop over the rail of the porch and run toward the group. Timber sees me and breaks away from the crowd.
“You’re safe!” I yell, jumping into his arms. “I was so worried Clay and Dawn would come back or that you wouldn’t know the search party was there to help you and . . .” I bury my face in his shoulder.
He pats my back. “But it’s okay. I’m fine. And I’m here now. And whoa,” he says, looking all around.
We part from our hug and I see that everyone has gathered in a half circle around us. All of my cousins have piled out of my grandmother’s house and stand staring at the strange erdler in Alverland. Poppy, Bramble, and Persimmon push their way to the front of the group and wave. Timber waves back then turns to me, wide-eyed. “It’s like seeing a hundred different versions of you,” he says, and I have to laugh because he’s right.
“There’s a bit of a family resemblance,” I say.
Grandma Fawna and Grandpa Buck stride up through the group and hold out their arms. Timber steps back when he sees Fawna coming toward him, but when he realizes she’s about to hug him, he relaxes. My grandfather takes Timber’s hand in his. “You have done a great service for our people,” he says. “And for that we are grateful.”
“Oh, I, um, I didn’t really . . .” Timber stammers.
Buck turns to all of my relatives. “Hup ba!” they yell in unison. “Hup ba! Hup ba! Hup ba!”
“So that’s where that comes from,” Timber says.
“It’s sort of like a high five around here,” I tell him.
“Cool,” he says, smiling.
“Come.” Grandma Fawna takes him by the arm. “Flora will find you dry clothes and nourishment.” She stops and lays her hands on his shoulders, looks into his face, and says, “But first, I want to thank you for helping us.” She leans down and kisses his forehead. Timber stands there blinking, unsure what to do. Then Fawna turns back toward the search party. “Now I must attend to this fox.”
As Flora leads us into the house, Timber whispers to me, “I thought your grandma didn’t like me.”
“Not anymore,” I tell him. “She thinks you’re awesome.”
“What changed her mind?” he asks.
“Well, um,” I stammer and hesitate, trying to figure out how to say it. “She looked deep inside of you and liked what she saw.”
“My spleen?” he asks, laughing.
“No.” I smack his arm.
“My liver?”
“Stop,” I say, but I’m giggling.
“My kidneys?”
“No,” I tell him. “Same thing I see when I look at you.” Then I pat him on the chest and say, “Your heart.”
Not long after Timber is settled in some of Grove’s clothes with a plate of smoked fish, bread, roasted nuts, and dried fruit, we hear my father’s voice in the clearing. I run for the door with Timber close behind. We find my dad, Briar, and Kenji with Poppy, Bramble, and Persimmon hanging off their arms. They’re surrounded by the same wide-eyed group as Timber was a short while ago, only I don’t know who’s more surprised—my family to see someone who looks like Kenji or Kenji to see a bunch of people who look just like us.
“There’s no sign of them that I can find,” my father’s saying as we break into the circle surrounding them.
Kenji throws his arms around Timber. “Dude, am I glad to see you!”
“You have a nice nap up there?” Timber jokes.
Kenji runs his hands through his blue-tipped hair. “Actually,” he says. “I did. I woke up to Briar and Drake shaking me.”
This cracks me up. “He slept through everything!”
“We were so worried about Timber,” Briar says. “Where’d you go?”
“Long story.” I sling my arm around her shoulders. “I’ll tell you over some tea.”
Over the next hour, all the search parties come back to the clearing. There have been no signs of Clay and Dawn anywhere in the woods. It’s as if they vanished into thin air. Briar and I tell our stories over and over again to our aunts and uncles, while they try to piece together who Clay and Dawn are and what they want in Alverland. The one missing piece, of course, is the fox. Fawna says we can’t figure that out until my mother returns, which has everyone worried because she’s been gone all day. So for now, the fox is left happily feasting on dried rabbit meat by the fire in Grandma’s kitchen.
“I’m worried about Mom and Willow,” I tell my dad as we make a bed for Timber. He and Kenji are off at the bathhouse before everyone feasts together.
Dad hands me two down comforters and pillows, which I fluff. “Your mother and Willow, more than anyone here, can take care of themselves. They’ll be along when the time is right.”
“But they have no idea Clay and Dawn are out there,” I argue.
He unrolls a large, thin pallet on the floor of our central room. “All the settlements have been warned, and so far no one has seen hide nor hair of Clay and Dawn, so it’s pretty likely they took off after that whooping you gave them.” Dad laughs.
I look around the room to make sure we’re alone. I lean in and whisper to my dad. “There’s something you should know about Timber.”
He leans closer to me. “What?” he whispers back with a silly grin on his face.
“Fawna says he’s a hamrammer.”
My dad rears back and stumbles over a bedroll, landing on his back on the floor. “Crikey, Zeph! I thought you were going to say he’s your boyfriend.”
“But don’t worry.” I reach out for my dad’s hand and help pull him to his feet. “He saved me in the woods.”
Dad shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“No, it’s true,” I plead. “He’s not the bad kind.”
Dad looks at me for a moment. “I don’t have a problem with him being a hamrammer, honey. Or your boyfriend. I was surprised, but I know he’s a good guy, that’s clear. I’ll tell you one thing, though: my daughter doesn’t need anybody to save her butt. Whatever you two did in the woods to get rid of Clay and Dawn was a joint effort.” Then he laughs. “I wish I could have seen it.”
“What?” Grove asks, carrying in a set of sheets for the bed.
“Your sister kicking dark-elf bootie,” Dad says.
Grove bumps me on the shoulder. “Way to go, little sis. I thought you were crazy saying they were dark elves.”
Poppy, Bramble, and Persimmon rush into the room, yelling, “Dinner’s ready!”
“Hey there.” My father scoops them all three up into his arms. “What are we having?”
“The usual,” Bramble says.
“Pizza and hot dogs?” my dad asks.
“No silly!” Poppy says. “That’s erdler food.”
Grove and I follow them out the door, grabbing our cloaks on the way back to Grandma’s for dinner.
I just about lose it when I see both Kenji and Timber dressed in elfin tunics. They look so out of place, like they’re dressed for Halloween. Especially Kenji because his clothes are two sizes too large, so he’s had to roll up the pant legs and sleeves four times. He turns around to show off his new duds.
“Man, I’ve got to say this whole tunic thing is working for me,” he says. “I wish someone had told me how comfortable these things are. I’m giving up my jeans and hoodies for a whole new vibe.”
I can’t contain myself, and I burst into a fit of giggles.
“It’s not half bad,” Timber says, striking a pose as if he’s about to shoot a bow and arrow. “But I think I’d like one in teal.”
Briar and I lead them to the kitchen, where we all fill our plates with corn bread, roasted potatoes, squash, fried apples, and rabbit stew. We find a place to sit among my many cousins. The littlest ones are fascinated by Kenji and Timber, even reaching out to touch Kenji’s dark, blue-tipped hair. But because there are erdlers in our presence, everyone else is subdued.
Kenji and Timber are both great sports about everything, and to their credit they’re not asking many questions yet. I don’t know how we’ll answer anyway, so I’m glad that for now the novelty of this situation is sidetracking everyone. After people finish eating and the dish
es are cleared away, my aunts, uncles, and cousins bring out their lutes, flutes, guitars, and mandolins, and everyone begins to sing and dance. Timber grabs my hand and taps his toes. I can tell by his goofy smile that he’s enthralled by the music, and if I weren’t so worried about my mom and Willow, I would be, too.
Then, in the middle of the third song, while my cousins are dancing a four-hand partner jig, Grandma Fawna’s door swings open and there’s my mother, bundled in her cloak, with Willow and Ash by her side. Everyone rushes for them, talking at once. I push through the crowd and find my mother’s arms.
“I was so worried about you!” I say as I throw myself at her.
She kisses my forehead and rubs my back. “We’re fine, honey,” she says. “Just fine.”
Then I turn to Willow. As soon as I see her beautiful face and sparkling green eyes, I grab her. We cling to each other, rocking back and forth. “I’ve missed you so much!” we say over and over to each other.
As my mother steps into the room, she shrieks. Everyone stops talking. We all turn to see what’s upset her. “Great horned owl!” she says with her hand pressed against her chest. “What are they doing here?”
“Hi, Mrs. Adler,” Timber says, weakly waving.
“Hey there,” Kenji says with a grimace.
Mom turns to me. “Zephyr?” she says. “Would you like to explain what’s going on?”
chapter 21
AFTER THE LITTLE ones are packed off to bed and I’ve told the whole story (again) to my mom, I find Timber and Grove by the fire. Timber’s noodling around on my father’s guitar as Grove plucks a mandolin. They’re riffing on an old elfin melody called “Green Glen Ladies,” and I’m surprised by how well Timber can keep up.
I hate to interrupt them, but I have my marching order. “Mom wants you guys to go to our house now.”
“We’re having too much fun,” Timber tells me as he strums. “Your dad’s guitar is amazing. I could play it all night.”
“Take it with you,” I say.
“Are you coming, too?”
Selfish Elf Wish Page 20
