Where the Woods End

by Charlotte Salter

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s a bottle of poison. They say he’s saving it for when his grabber comes.”

  Kestrel looked at Walt with a shiver, imagining him sitting behind his door at night, holding the bottle.

  “That’s how his great-grandfather died,” her dad continued. “He refused to be eaten by his grabber. The old man was still alive when I was your age. He said he remembered life outside the forest. Lots of the old people claimed they weren’t born here, or that the forest grew up around them.”

  “I bet it’s true,” Kestrel said, excitement squirming in her gut. It explained her feeling that the forest was a single, huge living thing, almost a monster in itself, and that it was doing its best to trap them.

  “How many wolves did you get?” Kestrel asked. Her dad looked around and touched his hat, running his fingers through the claws, counting them. The gesture was so automatic it was almost a tic. He didn’t believe in scarecrows and sticks to keep the grabbers away, but he always said that wearing wolves’ teeth would throw grabbers off his scent.

  “Since I last saw you?” The claws hanging all around his hat jangled as he slipped them between his fingers. “Fifteen. Nine gray, five black, and one silver. The last one had green eyes and one ear. It had me pinned down by the throat, but I threw it off and tossed it down a hole.”

  “Good move,” she said approvingly. Her dad smiled like she’d said something funny.

  “And what about you, little fox?” he asked, gently pushing her away so he could see her better.

  A scream cut the air in half. Kestrel grabbed her spoon and brandished it in the direction of the noise, her mind already racing through the options. A wolf? A grabber? Another horde of poisonous rabbits?

  Her dad pulled her back. Before she could protest, Mardy burst out of her house.

  “Who took my rug?” she screeched. “I’ll beat you to a pulp!”

  Anyone who was outside stared at her. Kestrel felt her dad’s hand slowly drop from her shoulder. Mardy looked around, then started to shiver.

  Nobody said anything. Kestrel couldn’t stand it anymore. She opened her mouth, ready to offer help, but Mardy turned and fled back into the house.

  Walt, who still had a log in his hands, blinked and continued to stoke the wolf fire, as though he hadn’t heard anything. Ike patted his pocket watch nervously and peered into the well.

  “Why don’t they say something?” Kestrel asked hotly. Her cheeks felt warm and prickly.

  “They’re scared, pet,” he said, his voice strangely grave. He ran his fingers through the teeth a second time in a distracted, worried way.

  “Has she lost it?” she asked. “Or do you think it’s her grabber?”

  She looked at her dad. He turned away quickly, but she saw enough to know that he was scared. His face was pale.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her stomach dropping.

  “Nothing,” he said, turning back to her. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “You’re lying,” she said fiercely. “I’m not stupid.”

  “All right,” he said. “You’re only twelve. You shouldn’t be hunting grabbers. And you know you can’t catch them before they’ve eaten. They’re too fast and clever.”

  Kestrel watched him carefully, but the look of fear had gone. Maybe she’d imagined it.

  “I’m clever, too,” she said. “I won’t stop trying.”

  Her father heaved a sigh and raised his hands in mock defeat.

  “I still don’t know why you do it,” he said. “I always hoped you wouldn’t catch it from your grandma, rest her soul, but you’re every bit as stubborn and restless as she was.”

  Kestrel dropped her head. She hated it when her dad mentioned Granmos; she felt like the truth about her death would come bursting out of her at any moment. The guilt of keeping it secret made her want to shrivel up.

  But she was so used to keeping secrets. Even her training had been kept under wraps.

  Your dad doesn’t need to know, Granmos had said when she was little, casting Kestrel her special, hawkish look. I tried to train him once, but he was too sensitive. Couldn’t handle it. In this family, strength passes down the female side.

  “How did you grow up without being mean?” Kestrel asked. The idea of having Granmos as a mum seemed horrifying. “Didn’t she scare you?”

  “She wasn’t so bad,” her dad said. “I know she was a bit tough on you sometimes, but she only wanted to make you stronger.”

  A bit tough? Kestrel wanted to scream. She threw me down a well in the middle of winter to see if I could swim!

  Sometimes, even now, when Kestrel heard an unexpected noise, she was still terrified that her grandma was about to attack her.

  “Anyway, she adored you,” her dad added. “Do you remember the coat she made you when you were nine? She hated sewing, but she spent three weeks making it. She couldn’t wait to give it to you.”

  Kestrel did remember. It was an exact copy of her grandma’s coat, the colorful one made of rags. Kestrel loved the coat so much she didn’t take it off for weeks. She’d only gotten rid of it after her grandma died, when even looking at the coat made a knot of guilt form in her stomach. She’d left it hanging on a branch in the middle of the forest.

  “I remember,” Kestrel said uncomfortably.

  But then she thought of her tenth birthday, and the gift she’d received from Granmos then. It wasn’t nice, like the coat.

  The night of her birthday Kestrel was in bed, half asleep, when something jabbed her in the ribs. She woke up to see Granmos’s wrinkled face inches from her own, her crooked teeth bared in a grin.

  “You see the door?” her grandma said, pointing a long, red fingernail at the front door. Kestrel’s mother snored in the corner of the room, oblivious. “Have you noticed how it stares at you?”

  Kestrel squinted at it blearily. Her grandma was right. The wood was old and full of knots, and if you concentrated, they looked a little like faces.

  “So?” she asked.

  “Sit up,” Granmos said, dragging her upright by her elbow.

  Granmos used the thick smoke from her pipe and flickering candlelight to make terrible shadows dance across the walls. She hissed horrible stories in Kestrel’s ear, and embellished the imaginary creatures with bloodcurdling descriptions until Kestrel was convinced that she was going to die inside the house. It didn’t stop until Kestrel screamed and hid her head under the pillow.

  But that wasn’t the end. Granmos put her through the whole nightmare again the next night, and the next, again and again until Kestrel hadn’t slept in weeks.

  “Use your brain,” Granmos roared. “Work out how to stop being scared!”

  Kestrel wanted to run away, but she knew her grandma would come after her. She tried closing her eyes and stuffing her fingers in her ears. She tried stabbing the door with her spoon, but the faces never stopped being terrifying, and she shivered with lack of sleep.

  “Where’s the dog?” her dad said. Kestrel blinked and realized she’d missed half a conversation.

  “Dunno,” she said. It had left her alone for a while now, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t for her good behavior.

  They continued their circuit of the village until they came to her mother’s house. The windows were shuttered, and the door was tightly closed.

  “Well,” he said, looking relieved, “I won’t disturb her. I’ve come a long way and I need to rest. I’ll sleep by the wolf fire.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Kestrel. “I’ll watch for wolves.”

  “I don’t need looking after,” he said, laughing.

  “Whatever,” Kestrel replied, turning her face away so he wouldn’t see her blush. She knew the wolves wouldn’t come for him here, but a tiny part of her was always waiting for him to run back into the forest when she w
as asleep. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, or that she thought he’d leave without saying good-bye, but—well . . .

  They were almost out of sight of her mother’s house when Kestrel heard the door creak open. She froze at the same time as her dad, and shared dread sloshed between them.

  Slowly, they turned around.

  Her mother was leaning in the doorway, whole skeins of wool trailing from her clothing and into the back of the house like umbilical cords. Seeing her make it as far as the door was a shock. Although her mother’s face was unhealthily gray in the daylight, her eyes were still hard, and she looked no weaker for having left the warm belly of the house.

  “Come and greet me, then,” she said, like she was issuing a challenge. Kestrel looked at her dad. His face was unreadable.

  “Let’s go,” Kestrel said, and when she didn’t get a response she kicked his foot. It was like striking her toes against a rock. “Dad!”

  “Trapper!” her mother called unexpectedly, her voice whipping across the ground like a snake. “Afraid of your own wife?”

  Kestrel’s dad marched toward the house, and Kestrel’s mother laughed. Kestrel threw herself after him and grabbed the back of his coat, but he dragged her along like a ship breaking anchor.

  They stopped at the doorstep. Kestrel hauled herself upright and stood beside her dad, furious and streaked with dirt. “Let’s go,” Kestrel said urgently, wishing her dad wasn’t so heavy.

  He shook her off. “You know I have nothing to say to you,” her dad said to her mother, his voice different from its usual slow rumble. “Don’t come near me while I’m here.”

  Kestrel had never heard anyone speak to her like that before, and it chilled her to the pit of her stomach. “I’m here to see Kestrel.”

  “Are you?” her mother said, leaning in. Kestrel’s dad stepped back inadvertently. “Or are you here because you’re running away from something?”

  “Dad?” said Kestrel, trying to pull him away.

  “Whatever you think you know is wrong,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

  “I know enough,” her mother said.

  “Stop ignoring me,” Kestrel yelled, surprising them both. They looked at her for a second, the spell between them broken.

  “Go and wait for me by the fire,” her dad said angrily. “Now!”

  Kestrel flushed red. She wasn’t some little kid who could just be sent away. She opened her mouth to defy him, but he looked so thunderous that she shut it again right away.

  She stomped away, giving them her best look of deep disgust. As soon as her back was turned they started again, and she ducked around the corner of another house to listen. They had lowered their voices, and she had to strain her ears to hear them.

  “You’re not brave enough to go back into the forest,” her mother said, brushing Kestrel’s interruption off like a piece of lint.

  “Says the woman who hasn’t left her house in five years,” her dad said.

  “You’re so terrified you’d rather wriggle under my nose than face it,” her mother retorted. “You crept back to the village like the worm you are.”

  Her dad leaned in and Kestrel lost sight of his face. She craned her head as far as she dared, but heard nothing but mumbles. Then her mother snapped, “Better for her that you don’t make it,” and slammed the door in his face.

  Her dad shuddered like he’d been shot in the chest. Then he turned, and Kestrel knew that he’d lost the argument.

  He strode toward the forest. Kestrel tumbled out of her hiding place. She knew instinctively what was happening.

  “Wait,” she said to her dad, striding after him, not bothering to pretend that she hadn’t been eavesdropping. He picked up the pace, and she had to run to keep up. “Don’t go. Dad.”

  He was moving toward the trees, his traps clanking as they swung around his legs. She had to duck out of the way to stop them from hitting her.

  “Where are you going?” she asked. He didn’t slow down. “What did she mean about you running away from something? Dad?” A terrible thought occurred to her. “Is it your—” she hesitated, her voice was so full of dread it made him stop. She had to force the words past her teeth. “Is it your grabber?”

  Kestrel’s dad caught his breath, as though the word was a physical blow. Then he burst into laughter, and Kestrel felt her horror deflate like a balloon.

  “I promise there’s no grabber,” he said.

  “Oh,” Kestrel said, going red. She felt stupid for being so dramatic. Nobody ever talked about their grabbers, but her dad wouldn’t keep any secrets from her. The rest of the villagers would rather cower in silence if they thought they were being stalked, but not him. He trusted her.

  He lowered his voice, and Kestrel leaned in instinctively. “Truth be told, I’m tracking something,” he said. “I can’t let it get away from me.”

  “A wolf?” she said, watching his face. Despite his laughter, he still wore a haunted look.

  “A big one,” he said, running his fingers around his hat again. “It’s been baying for my blood for years, and it would love nothing more than to take a chunk out of me. But I’ll get it.”

  Kestrel felt a pang of worry, but her dad only smiled again. He looked over his shoulder, the claws on his hat swinging past his eyes.

  “It was silly to come back. I’ve got to pick up the trail again,” he said.

  “What about the snow?” Kestrel asked, wishing it would pour from the sky.

  “It won’t be much,” he said. “Only a scattering.”

  Kestrel wanted to scream at him.

  “You’re leaving because of her,” Kestrel said, her voice icy so he wouldn’t know that her heart was cracking in two. She wanted to say more, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. That if he loved her, he’d stay.

  “I’m leaving because she’ll put that dog on me,” he said.

  “You used to be brave,” Kestrel said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “You could squash that dog under your little finger if you wanted to, but you’re too afraid.”

  Her dad looked like he’d been hit. Kestrel immediately felt wretched, but she couldn’t take it back.

  The black dog padded into sight. It paused a few yards away, baring its teeth.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” her dad said quietly. He looked sidelong at the dog and pulled Kestrel away. His face had smoothed over again, but she could see that he was reeling from her blow. “I’m trying to find a way to get rid of that blasted animal. If your mother won’t call it off, we’ll get rid of it ourselves. I have an idea, but I need to find out more, okay?”

  “Okay,” Kestrel whispered, her mouth dry.

  “In the meantime,” he said, “promise that you won’t come after me. I know what you’re like. Remember when you hid in my bag when you were only tiny?”

  “I started laughing,” said Kestrel. “You had to take me back.”

  “None of that now,” he said. “Promise you won’t come after me.”

  “Why do I have to promise?”

  “Just making sure,” he said, and hugged her tight. “Off with you now.”

  “Dad—”

  He gave her a small shove, but his size meant that it was like being pushed by a bear. She stumbled toward the dog, which jumped up and ran a ring around her, tripping her. Kestrel jumped to her feet.

  “Wait!” she yelled, but her dad was already striding into the trees, his traps clanking.

  She heard a sneeze behind her and turned quickly. The villagers were everywhere, half hidden, staring through the cracks in their doors or paused in the gaps between houses. They’d all come out to listen to the argument.

  Her mother was there, too, watching Kestrel from her doorway with a contemptuous look on her face.

  Anger bubbled up in her, an un
stoppable force that made her head hot and her hands cold.

  “What did you say to him?” Kestrel growled.

  She marched toward her mother with no idea of what she was going to do, but the black dog ran in front of her, blocking her path. Kestrel tried to dodge it but it was too fast, and a single nip sent her sprawling on the ground.

  The dog turned to Kestrel’s mother, looking for approval. Without thinking, rage still coursing through her bones, Kestrel launched herself at it with a snarl.

  She landed on its back. The dog yelped, and Kestrel managed to twist one of its ears when her mother issued a short, sharp scream. The dog threw Kestrel off, running into the house, past her mother, who was holding the side of her face. Her skin was red and blotchy.

  “Oh,” Kestrel breathed, regret coursing through her instantly.

  The villagers had come to the same conclusion as Kestrel and stared at the black dog with a newfound curiosity. They leaned out to gape openly. Even Mardy stepped outside.

  Her mother blinked in shock. Kestrel’s heart began to beat wildly, but she didn’t move. Instead she held her breath and waited. She waited for her bones to crack, for her blood to turn into acid.

  Runo and Briar clutched each other gleefully. Briar whispered something in her brother’s ear, and he snorted with laughter.

  Her mother twitched. Then, quick as a flash, she reached into the house and grabbed a handful of wool. A small white baby tooth was knotted into it.

  Something terrible was going to happen. Kestrel bit down a cry and braced herself, waiting for the pain to begin.

  Her mother knotted the wool between her fingers, trapping the baby tooth inside. Then she clenched her fist.

  There was a scream from the well. Kestrel turned so fast her hair flew in front of her face. Runo was on the floor, screeching, his right leg bent at a funny angle. Briar wailed and bent down toward him, but then Kestrel’s mother dropped the tangle of wool with the tooth inside, and stamped on it.

  Runo shuddered, as though he’d been stamped on himself, and screamed again. It was so long and loud it made Kestrel’s teeth ache. Briar leaped back, horrified.