by Melle Amade
We break apart and burst up gasping for air, our laughter startling some small birds in the giant trees.
One of the tubes is gotten stuck in some low branches, as the other floated away. Callum retrieves the nearest one, which is big enough for both of us. I scramble up the opposite side of the tube from Callum, my body gravitating towards his heateven though his skin is wet and chilled.
I hoist myself onto the inner tube and flatten myself to one side. Callum’s about to lift himself up and from the look in his eye has every intention of continuing our interrupted kiss. A chirp from the shore grabs my ear, but I’m too amused by Callum to look.
“You’re getting there!” I goad him in his struggle to get onto the tube.
He chuckles, but then the insistent chirping grows louder and finally we both turn to see what bird is making all the noise. There on the other side of the river we see Evie. She smiles and chirps. Her tawny skin looks like she spent the entire summer basking on the river.
Callum lowers himself off the edge of the tube and start swimming towards the girl, dragging the tube I’m on behind him.
6
I carefully step out of the tube. Evie is on her haunches in still water looking up at us. She’s possibly the most angelic girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s not just that her eyes are big and bronze, they are deep and as I gaze into them it’s almost like I can see whole worlds there. She’s wearing a sundress and no shoes, and she doesn’t move when we get there, she just stays in place and pushes the missing tube towards Callum.
“Do you live up here, Evie?” I ask.
She smiles, nods, and points up the steep embankment and back towards the woods.
Callum and I exchange looks. “She must come from the reservation,” I say. “But, should she be this far alone out here?”
I glance down the river, only momentarily wondering what our friends will think when we’re gone, but what does it matter? We’re not doing whatever it is they will think we’re doing, we’re not about to just leave this girl out here.
“We can just make sure she gets home okay,” I suggest.
We turn back to Evie, but she’s already scampering up the cliff.
“Fast little bugger,” Callum says as he grabs onto a root and pulls himself up. He reaches down and holds out a hand to me, which I gladly take. I have no idea how she moved to the top so easily.
The woods are deep, dark, and silent as we follow her through them. We have to press to keep up. It’s remarkable she’s here alone. There’s not even a road. If there aren’t roads, how do the people get in and out?
It takes us about fifteen minutes of moving through the dense forest before a few trees open and up. There’s waist-high golden grass leading up to prim short hedges surrounding a cluster of a dozen or so squat, mahogany cabins.
Inside the hedge, the ground was all cleared. There were chairs outside some of the cabins and various wooden tables set up on the brushed dirt. The cabins were all so small, they look like they could only have about one room in each. Had the place not been so neat and tidy, I never would’ve guess anybody lived this far back in the woods. At the far end of the picturesque village is a large round-house, a circular building with no windows and a sloped roof with a hole in the middle.
“It’s so….,” I say quietly to Callum. It’s so quiet and peaceful, I don’t even want to raise my voice and interrupt the tranquility.
Evie runs down the center of the village, where the man from The Lodge rodeo booth stands, chopping wood, his long braid hanging down his back. “Guinevere!” He calls. “Where you been?”
She runs to him, grabbing him in a hug, but he’s looking over her shoulder, staring at us in dumbfounded shock where we stand inside the perimeter of the village. His eyes flash dark and I can see the muscles across his shoulder tense. He adjusts his grip on his axe.
I put my hand on Callum’s wrist, stopping his forward momentum. Hercules was friendly at the rodeo, but maybe we aren’t supposed to be here. “This must be part of the reservation,” I say.
Hercules hasn’t said a word to us, but it’s pretty clear he wasn’t expecting see us. He grabs the girl’s hand in his and begins to walk towards us, axe still in hand. I want to turn and run, but I’m sure that’s the last thing Callum is going to do.
“We found her by the river,” Callum calls out.
Curious heads start to poke out of cabins and step out from the shadows scattered through the village. None of them look friendly.
“I’m Callum,” he continues, keeping his voice cheery. “This is Shae, my…friend.”
I feel Callum glance at me when he says the word “friend,” but it makes sense in these circumstances. Now is hardly the time to unravel our complicated relationship.
“We met,” Hercules nods at me, but all his friendliness from the rodeo is gone.
“We just wanted to make sure she was okay,” I say with a smile, slowly taking a step back from his steady approach. A small crowd of villagers gathers by the cabins, looking over at us curiously, but none move closer, and I don’t see Jacqueline. “She saved our tube for us.”
Hercules stops about fifteen feet from us, glancing down at Evie. Her fingers move in a series of intricate patterns that he watches closely before nodding. For someone who was fairly chatty at the rodeo, she’s quiet here.
“We’ll be going now,” Callum says.
But Hercules isn’t looking at him, he’s staring at the girl, a quizzical expression on his face. He gives a gentle shake of his head, but she nods emphatically.
Just then a shadow flits by the base of the trees to our side. We all gaze over as a tan spotted quail steps out of the undergrowth and observes all of us. There’s a plume rising from the center of its head, which bobs as the bird nods its head forward. It’s small black eyes land on me, inquisitive yet quiet, before it scoots back into the gloom of the forest.
Hercules eyes are open wide as he stares from where the quail has disappeared and back to his sister who is tugging his arm. Finally, he nods and moves her hand off him holding up his hand in acquiescence. “Evie wants to invite you up,” he motions at Guinevere, who’s staring up at me with bold brown eyes.
“Invite me up?” I ask.
“In two days at the full moon,” Hercules nods.
Guinevere separates from Hercules and comes forward. She holds out her hand to me. I don’t hesitate to take it. Her gaze is direct and serious as she points at herself and then at me.
“What is it, Evie?” I bend down so we’re eye level. She points at both of us again and then holds up two fingers. She’s beautiful. Innocent and lovely.
My gaze goes to Hercules, but his face is a mask of mild amusement. Clearly, I don’t get it and he’s not about to tell me.
“Just come to her birthday,” he says, reaching out his hand to take Evie’s. With her free hand, she points at my collar. “And bring the guy with the collar, too.”
“Okay.” I’m a little surprised they know about Roman, but they must have seen him at the rodeo at some point. “Sure.”
“Do you know your way back?” Hercules asks.
“Yeah, we’ll be able to find our way,” Callum nods. I’m sure he can do a bird’s eye view if we need it.
We step away into the shadows of the tall trees, I don’t let go of Callum’s hand even after we get well away from the village.
“I’m not sure it’s safe to come back up here,” Roman says. “We should ask Cooper’s family what they know about them.”
“No. Please don’t. I- I feel like Guinevere trusts us. I mean, she brought us to her village, a village no one else ever gets to go to, it seems. We shouldn’t go snooping around about them. Maybe we should just, you know, go hang out with them a bit.” The last thing I want to tell him is about the words Aunt Emma had for Jacqueline and her response. I mean, especially if I’m right about and it was Jacqueline who set off the earthquake.
If I am right about Jacqueline’s power, wel
l. I want to know more and this could be the best opportunity to find out about it.
Callum looks down at me as if he sees right through me. His fingers worry the Ravensgaard ring on his finger. I shiver in the cold shadows of the big trees and Callum puts his arm around me.
It sends a cozy thrill through my veins. I rest my head against his shoulder as we walk and he carefully kisses the top of my head. I don’t stop walking. Something about that village makes me nervous.
Nervous and excited.
I reach up and finger the metal around my neck. How had I gone my entire life without knowing the freedom of flight? I miss it so much.
Callum notices me tugging at my collar and squeezes me tighter.
“You’re going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out,” he says softly.
I nod. “Don’t tell the others about the invite, okay? Aunt Emma isn’t really cool with the Pomos.”
“Ok,” Callum responds, pulling me closer to him. “I’m not sure that I’m cool with it either, to be honest.”
When we get back to the river the sun is much lower and both tubes have floated away. Callum and I walk down the river’s edge hand-in-hand, tripping over roots, laughing, and sliding through the mud until it coats our legs and torsos.
We finally get down to where everyone is waiting on a rocky bank. They’ve already made it down to the truck.
“What took you two so long?” Cooper smiles with a grin that makes me think he thinks we were doing something we totally were not doing.
“We saw Evie,” I say to them.
“The girl from the rodeo?” Zan asks, her gaze tilting towards me.
“Yeah,” I nod. “We just helped her get back to the reservation.”
“No way,” Cooper looks positively shocked, his head almost involuntarily rocking from side to side. “No one has ever gone to the reservation. I mean, we know it’s there, but it’s almost like a myth. I don’t think anyone even really knows where it is.”
Callum shrugs. “I guess we do now.”
“Don’t be a dumbass,” Zan says. “That group is famously standoffish. Not a single one would lead you to that village.”
“Evie did,” I insist. “When we were trying to take her back to her family.”
Cooper falls across one of the tubes, laughter erupting from his chest.
“What’s so funny about trying to return a girl to her parents?” Callum asks, his skin pink and jaw clenched.
“An Indian girl?” Cooper rolls in a fit of giggles.
“We would have done it for any girl,” Callum says. “She’s only about ten.”
“She’s twelve,” Cooper says, wiping the mirth from his eyes. “But I’ll tell you why that’s funny. Because that girl, looking all mild and innocent, probably has a better chance of staying alive in these woods than you or me or ninety nine percent of the population of America. Make that ninety-nine-point nine percent of the population of America. You are a hundred times more likely to get lost and starve or die of exposure than she probably ever would. The last thing that girl needed was you taking her back to safety.”
Callum and I exchange a look as we trudge after them. I’m not about to tell them about the invitation and he better not.
***
The sun still casts an orange hue on the mountains, but we’re done for the day. Dinner’s being prepared and we’re gathered out back, as tends to happen every night. Roman, Zan, Callum, and Cooper are caught up in a serious game of corn hole, which I’d never heard of until Cooper explained the he was the corn hole champion of Potter Valley, like that was an esteemed title. The game consists of throwing bags of dried corn across the yard at a sloping board with a, surprise, hole in it. Henry is keeping score for them. There are some complex rules around scoring, which I never follow even when I play. I simply wait for someone else to tell me if I’m winning or losing.
Uncle Steve and Aunt Natalie sit on the porch chatting in low voices about the upcoming fair and how their animals are finishing off for the competition. Mom is inside helping Aunt Emma put the finishing touches on dinner. I’ve grown used to these quiet evenings but I can’t help the frustration that gnaws at my guts. Is this really what we’re going to be doing the rest of our lives?
I’m lying on a bench staring up at the stars that are starting to appear in the twilight. The metal collar makes a dent in my neck but I press into it. It’s always going to be there, so maybe I should just get used to it.
I’m relaxed and excited all at the same time. Whatever powers Jacqueline has, being invited up to the reservation has got to be a great opportunity to get to know her better. I feel a bit guilty about not telling Zan, but well I haven’t even told Roman yet and he’s supposed to go with me. It’s not until we get to the dinner table together that I realize it’s hard to keep a secret when people spend time together.
“How was tubing today?” Uncle Steve asks. He makes it sound like it's a really casual question, but there is something in the way he doesn't look up when he says it that tells me he’s got a suspicion. I can’t quite tell who he’s asking, and I glance under the cover of my hair around the table to try to figure out who will answer. Cooper reaches out and grabs one of Aunt Emma’s homemade biscuits.
“Good,” he says. “Callum and Shae saw Evie up there.”
Uncle Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “What are you talking about, boy?” he asks. And even though he's annoyed, you can tell the way he says ‘boy’ is affectionate rather than demeaning. But what's really interesting is Zan is watching Aunt Natalie, who is staring down at her plate as if she's a million miles away. She’s prodding the scalloped potatoes and ramming them into the carrots as if they’re a bulldozer trying to break down the wall.
And then to my surprise, Zan actually reaches out and squeezes her hand. What is it Aunt Natalie has against the Pomos?
“We just saw her and thought she was lost so we brought her back to the reservation,” Callum says.
Cooper glances up, watching the tension move through the adults. He shrugs, stepping in to back Callum up. “It wasn’t a big deal. They saw us up at the river when we were tubing.” He reaches over and grabs another slab of smoked ribs, spreading them onto his plate and tearing the meat off the bone with his teeth. It's not hard to imagine he's a coyote, even when he’s in human form.
“You know they were told to stay away after they showed up at the funeral.”
Cooper actually laughs. “I didn’t see them. What? Do you want them to stay away from any other shifters? Callum and Shae aren’t even coyotes. Maybe they've never seen a collar before.”
I glare at him. Nice diversion.
All eyes shift to me and Roman. We’re sitting down at the far end of the table.
“It really wasn't a big deal. The girl, you know. It was nothing. I didn't realize –” the words stall in my throat because I’m way out of my depth on the politics around here. So instead I shove a bite of biscuit in my mouth and chew slowly. It seems a good tactic for Cooper so it should work for me, too.
“Well,” Aunt Emma says, “Next time, now you know.” As if that sums it up and we have all now been warned that we should not have anything to do with Evie.
“Yes ma'am,” Cooper says with a bucket of demure and respect. “I'll make sure I police anyone our guests hang out with.”
Wow. Cooper is not an idiot. He emphasizes the word “guest” because hospitality is a really important part of Aunt Emma's life. That’s been clear from the moment we rolled up as rather unwanted guests. She wants to be polite no matter what and keep up appearances to the community, without looking like she’s a shifter or runs a shifter safe house, but she also wants to be polite to the people who stay in her home.
Uncle Steve scowls at Cooper but doesn’t continue the conversation. The rest of the meal is taken up with general talk about the fields and if they're going to get the hay in on time, and what cycle the grapes or the pears are on. I can't really follow, especially when they start talki
ng about the DNA of the cows their breeding and how they're going to artificially inseminate some of them and then do sonograms to check the pregnancies. Who would have guessed you’d do all that for a cow?
Instead I wonder how I'm going to get out of here with Roman with no one knowing that we are going up to the reservation. And, what is it Evie knows? What is it that is important enough for her to invite us into their hidden reservation?
7
Two nights later Zan and I are on dish duty, so there’s no avoiding hearing the heated conversation is going on in the living room. The downstairs of the house is compartmentalized. A parlor with a small library off of it that no one enters, a living room across the entry hall where the adults tend to hang out in the evenings and then the back of the house with an open plan kitchen and large dining area. Zan’s eyebrows crease as voices from the living room drift into the kitchen.
“You can’t just have a bunch of kids move into this town not going to school, and make it look like everything is normal.” Aunt Emma’s voice is pressed tight as if she’s strangling every word as it comes out.
I can just see Uncle Steve through the gap in the sliding doors as he leans against the mantle. “You expect us to just enroll all these kids in the local school?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think needs to happen,” she nods. “These kids have been traumatized. What they need is structure.”
I dry my hands and go and stand by the doors, they’re open enough that they can see me. I don’t care. If they’re going to try and make plans around my life, they can include me in the conversation.
“You don’t think it’ll get a bit of attention?” Mom sits on the dimpled blue couch, her legs crossed and tucked up under her. She glances up at me as I raise my eyebrows at her.
“I agree with the wyte,” Natalie says.
I frown. Since when did they start referring to my mother in that way? “Her name is Kathleen,” I murmur, but no one pays any attention to me. Mom gives me a small grateful smile, but shrugs it off.
