Moll’s heart was hammering inside her, thudding against her ribcage. ‘I’m – I’m the child, aren’t I?’
Oak leant forward and squeezed her hand, but deep inside Moll something stiffened.
‘Lands full wild . . . You told me . . .’ she murmured. ‘You told me that wildcats don’t go leaving the northern wilderness. But Gryff did because—’
‘—because he knew he was part of something bigger than all that. He knew he had to come. A wildcat is the only animal that can’t be tamed, but Gryff broke the rules. Somehow he knew you were the child from the Bone Murmur, even before we did.’
A coldness locked around Moll. She was different from the others and this was why. She shuffled further round the yew trunk, away from Oak, her shoulders bunched and closed. Oak stretched out an arm, but Moll was walled up, hardened against everything, against everyone.
Oak waited.
And then Moll’s eyes met his and he gathered her back beneath his arm, to where it was safe and still. There she listened to his heartbeat: steady, strong, deep within his body.
‘Do they know?’ Moll mumbled. ‘The others – Florence and everyone?’
Oak shook his head. ‘Not even Siddy knows. Just the Elders.’
Moll watched the grass sway in the breeze. ‘Why me? Why do I have to be the one fighting dark stuff and saving the old magic? Why can’t it be someone else? Your Domino – he’d do. He’s the fastest runner in the camp and I don’t think he’d fall asleep on watch if it was something as important as this.’
Oak smiled, a large, soft smile that stayed in his eyes long after he had stopped smiling. ‘You’re brave and you’ve got spirit, Moll. Sometimes that’s enough.’
‘Enough for a cob chase maybe. Not for some sacred Bone Murmur.’
Oak squeezed Moll tighter. ‘You’re enough, Moll. You and Gryff. But now Skull knows who you are, you’re in danger – the whole camp is – because he’ll stop at nothing until he gets a hold of you. He wants to destroy what the Bone Murmur foretells because, if he can kill you and Gryff before you find the amulets, he can harness the power of the dark magic, a magic born in the blackest shadows. The Bone Murmur warns that, if Skull succeeds, he will unleash his dark magic into our skies and our lands will be torn apart by storms: trees will wither, mountains will crumble and seas will vanish as every last drop of the old magic is squeezed away.’
‘And I’m meant to stop all that happening?’ Moll spluttered.
Oak shook his head. ‘You should be playing with catapults and fishing for minnows in the stream. Not – not . . .’
But Moll was looking at him with piercing eyes now. She was getting closer to something, to what Oak wasn’t saying. ‘Wait. There’s something else, isn’t there?’ Oak skirted her look. ‘Why hasn’t our camp got a Guardian of the Oracle Bones then? We’ve got all the other traditional roles . . .’ Oak was suddenly very still and for a while he said nothing at all. Then he turned to face Moll.
‘You’ve no idea how much you fit into this camp, Moll, and I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.’ He paused. ‘Our camp had two Guardians. And they weren’t Frogmores at all: they were your parents.’
The words hung in the air and Moll’s face paled.
‘You come from a long line of Guardians, Moll.’
‘But – but . . . that’s impossible!’ she stammered.
Oak hung his head. ‘I’ve wanted to tell you so many times.’
Moll scrambled to her feet. ‘My parents? But you said that my ma stumbled by the camp the night I was born.’ She clenched her teeth. ‘And you told me no one even knew about my pa!’ Her voice toughened to steel. ‘You lied to me.’
Oak was on his feet, beside her in a flash, but Moll was edging away.
‘Where are they, Oak?’ she cried. ‘Where are my parents?’
Oak’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Moll, they’re dead.’
Moll flinched. Her parents were dead – and yet there had never been any parents to remember before. Nothing had changed. So why did it feel like it had? She felt tears rushing up from somewhere deep inside her and though she tried to fight them they streamed down her cheeks. Oak and Mooshie had lied to her, when she’d trusted them and let them in. This changed things; this changed everything. She dug her nails into her palms, forcing back angry sobs.
Oak stood before her, his hands outstretched. ‘I’m so sorry, Moll. Not a day’s gone by when I haven’t wanted to tell you, but we needed to keep you safe. If you’d known, you’d have gone to the Deepwood to find Skull.’
The storm inside Moll swelled and thickened. ‘Skull killed them?’
Oak looked down and then he nodded.
The tears fell faster and faster as Moll felt her past unravelling around her. She wanted to hear more – to find out why and how Skull had killed her parents – but a terrible knot of sadness and anger was rising inside her and the more she looked at Oak, the more the knot grew. She turned away.
‘Moll, please!’ Oak cried.
But Moll was already running. She tore through the grass to the far side of the glade where her and Siddy’s fort balanced halfway up a yew tree. Blinded by tears, she scrambled up the tree and climbed into the fort. She could hear Oak calling from down in the glade, but she bolted the door fast and covered her ears.
The fort didn’t look much from the outside – just some slats of wood within the gnarled branches of a yew – but it was big enough to stand up and walk around in and it was notoriously hard to get to so Moll and Siddy could store any number of ‘disgusting’ and ‘strange’ things up there without being told off. Kept in old jam jars and labelled by Siddy with a series of misspelt words, these ‘Forest Secrets’ included: Funnie-lookin Mushhhrooms (hoppefullie poysonus), Odd Furns (mak u sikk if u eet em), Gyant Nettuls (the wuns Mooshie uzes in growse soop), Smooth Pebbuls (good fer catapultin annoyin peepul).
Siddy had hung wind chimes from the branch beneath the fort to ward off evil spirits and a week later Moll had added a dreamcatcher: ‘The bright feathers might put the evil spirit in a better mood if it does chance on passing our way,’ she’d said.
Moll sat back against the slats, her eyes glassy with tears and her thoughts pushing down on her. Oak had left, reluctantly, when she’d shouted down that she didn’t want to see him ever again. But that was hours ago; it was mid-afternoon now and still Moll hadn’t moved. Oak’s words were still ringing in her ears. She’d had parents – proper, real parents who had been the Guardians of the Oracle Bones. But somehow Skull had taken them from her. Her face darkened.
There was a knock on the door and Moll jumped. Perhaps it was Oak’s son, Domino, come down from his watch to check on her. She rubbed her eyes and clenched her teeth.
‘Who is it?’ she growled.
‘It’s me. Siddy.’
If it had been anyone else, Moll wouldn’t have moved. But it was Siddy so she shuffled forward and unlocked the door.
Siddy crawled inside the tree fort, lay Porridge the Second down on the floorboards and cleared a space for himself among the jam jars, opposite Moll. Rummaging in his pocket, he pulled out a handful of Moll’s favourite treats: elderflower fritters. He held them out to her. ‘I didn’t dunk them in honey this time because Ma said she’d have to clean my pocket – and anyway it’d be a safety hazard for Porridge the Second as he spends a lot of time in there.’
But Moll’s teeth were clamped shut and her eyes were slits. ‘I had parents, Sid, only Oak and Mooshie never told me. And I never got to meet them.’
Siddy took off his flat cap and hung his head. ‘I just spoke to Oak. He told me because he’s worried sick about you and he knew you’d talk to me.’ He paused. ‘Mooshie’s worried too, Moll. All the Elders are.’
‘Good,’ Moll muttered. Her eyes misted with tears again so she picked up an elderflower fritter and nibbled the end.
Siddy leant towards her. ‘I know stuff, Moll. Oak wanted you to know, but he knew you wouldn’t let him in here so he to
ld me about—’ Siddy lowered his voice to a murmur, ‘—about how your parents died.’
It was only a whisper, but Siddy words clamoured in Moll’s ears. Siddy knew the truth.
‘I’m going to tell you everything I know, Moll, and together we’re going to – ’ he searched for the right word, ‘fix all this.’
Moll fiddled with a jar of tadpoles. Then she nodded. ‘What happened to them?’
‘Before I tell you, Oak wanted you to know that your parents loved you more than any ma or pa could. He said you were everything to them.’
Moll swallowed. She had been wanted – wanted and loved. And yet knowing that had come too late.
Siddy took a deep breath. ‘Ten years ago your parents went to Skull’s camp and spoke out against his dark magic.’
Moll looked up. ‘They went to Skull’s camp, like I did?’
Siddy nodded. ‘But Skull wouldn’t listen and, every night after they visited his clearing, the Dream Snatch haunted them, just like it haunts you apparently. Oak told me Skull wanted the Guardians of the Oracle Bones out of the way so that he had more chance of destroying the Bone Murmur.’
A lump was starting to form in Moll’s throat again, as if all this unhappiness had been locked inside her and was suddenly struggling out.
‘Apparently the Dream Snatch grew so strong it spread over everything your parents held dear, and then one winter’s night it dragged them – and you – out of bed and down to the river. You were just a scrap then. Only two years old, I think.’
A chord within Moll wavered. Something about Siddy’s words felt strangely familiar. ‘They – they didn’t come back from the river, did they?’
Siddy shook his head. ‘The camp heard nothing – no cries, no cause for alarm. But, when your parents didn’t show up the next morning, Oak went down to the river and saw them on the bank. There were no marks on their bodies but Oak could see they weren’t breathing, that they were . . .’ His voice trailed off.
Moll gulped. The faceless couple in her nightmare, the ones her mind refused to remember. She shivered. ‘My nightmare – it’s the memory of me watching my parents die, isn’t it?’
Siddy shifted. ‘I think it might be.’
Moll’s eyes widened in horror. ‘But didn’t anyone go after Skull?’
Siddy shook his head. ‘Oak couldn’t prove Skull was behind it and it was too dangerous for the camp to stir up trouble without proof. Especially as Oak wanted to protect you.’
Moll stood up and paced to the end of the fort. ‘But the Dream Snatch only summons the victims,’ she stammered. ‘Even if Skull summoned my parents close, he must’ve used something else to kill them. How could Skull do that without leaving any marks?’
Siddy shrugged. ‘The stuff of dark magic – that’s what Oak said. But he doesn’t know any more than that. Even the Elders couldn’t work it out.’
Moll frowned. ‘You said I was with them . . . How did I wriggle my way out of dying? If Skull had the power to take my ma and pa away, why didn’t he take me too?’
Sid paused. ‘It was Gryff. He saved your life that night.’
‘Gryff?’ Moll felt her way back to the wildcat’s touch: warm, strong, fearless. Ten years he’d been with her and he’d never allowed her to touch him. But now everything was changing.
Siddy nodded. ‘The night Oak discovered your parents, he saw Gryff for the first time. Crouched among the undergrowth near the river, he was and he had you there with him – safe. He must’ve led you away, hidden you in the ferns.’
Moll sat down before Siddy, wide-eyed and speechless. Gryff had left the northern wilderness – for her. He must have raced over mountains and bounded through valleys just to get to her. But how had he known the moment she would need him? Somehow he’d known and he’d known exactly who she was. Moll listened to the wind chimes tinkling on the branch below the fort. Gryff had come from the wild and maybe some things about him would always stay wild.
Siddy shuffled awkwardly among the jam jars. He picked up Porridge the Second, who shot him a look of miserable indifference, then he turned to Moll. ‘I’m sorry about everything, Moll. About the Dream Snatch and the Bone Murmur – and about your parents.’
But there was something more than just sadness and anger in Moll’s face now. There was determination.
Out of the corner of his eye, Siddy glimpsed the penknife he kept on a shelf. He pocketed it quickly, unsure at this stage where Moll’s determination would be directed. Hacking down the tree fort had probably crossed her mind by now.
‘We need a plan, Sid,’ Moll said. ‘Skull’s not going to get away with taking my parents from me.’
Siddy nodded, relieved the tree fort was to be spared demolition. ‘The Bone Murmur talks about you and Gryff finding these Amulets of Truth – that’s the only thing that can stop Skull. Now, at first when Oak told me about the Bone Murmur, I thought an amulet was a type of fish—’
Moll groaned. ‘That’s a mullet, Sid.’
He nodded. ‘Right. So I asked Ma and she said amulets can be a number of things: coins, necklaces, statues, pendants . . .’ He tuned his flat cap over in his hands. ‘She said there are wild stories claiming the amulets are jewels from the ends of the earth and fragments from shooting stars.’
Moll’s eyes glittered green. Even Porridge the Second had an unusually thoughtful look on his face.
‘I’ll help you find them, Moll. I’m good at finding things. Found a tawny owl’s nest yesterday, I did.’
Moll thought of the things she’d found the night before: the dead owl and the rat, the gang circling the fire in cloaks, Skull squeezing the wax figure. She shivered. Somewhere in the Deepwood that night, Skull would be conjuring his Dream Snatch.
Siddy bit his lip. ‘Pa said that past bone readings tell of the old magic locked inside the amulets and if the amulets are destroyed they’re lost forever. The Bone Murmur breaks and Skull’s dark magic grows.’ He hung his head. ‘This is going to take ages. Perhaps we should hide out in the tree fort until it’s all over?’
Moll shook her head. ‘We have to fight back – just like my parents did.’
Siddy nodded glumly, and then his eyes sparkled as he remembered something. ‘Oak told me that your parents threw the Oracle Bones just days before they died. Your pa asked where the amulets were hidden, but, unlike many of the Guardians of the past, he got an answer to this question. Oak said he read out a riddle and, though they say it’s near impossible to make sense of, we’ve got a lead – because they say the bones never lie.’
Moll’s heart beat faster. ‘What’s the riddle? What did my pa’s bone reading say?’
‘I don’t know. It’s locked inside the Chest of No Opening at Any Time or Your Life Won’t Be Worth Living – in Cinderella’s Bull’s wagon with the bone readings of the past.’
‘That’s what’s locked inside that chest?’ Moll’s face was aghast. They’d spent hours trying to guess what Cinderella Bull had hidden away in the chest she didn’t allow anyone else to touch. But ancient bone readings? They hadn’t thought of that.
Siddy nodded. ‘And I always thought she kept a giant hedgehog in there.’
Moll put her head in her hands. ‘How are we ever going to sneak it out?’
‘Oak said he’d show it to you tomorrow morning, after Wisdom and Ivy’s wedding feast is out of the way.’
Moll let Oak’s name bounce right off her. He was a liar and she wouldn’t be hanging around waiting for him to show her the bone reading. No, she’d get it herself if she had to – that night. She turned to Siddy. ‘What did my ma go asking the bones?’
‘Oak says no one knows what she asked because she destroyed the bones after reading them.’
An icy chill crawled down Moll’s back. And in the furthest corner of her mind the Dream Snatch began to pulse. Moll’s stomach tightened and her face drained of colour. She could hear the hiss of the rattle and the beat of the drum. She gripped her talisman hard. ‘I – I can feel Skull c
hanting for me,’ she whispered. ‘He must be stronger now he knows who I am. He’s reaching me while I’m awake!’
The forest around them fell silent until all that remained were Moll and Siddy’s fluttering breaths.
Siddy clutched his talisman, a circular pebble with a hole in the middle which brought him more bad luck than good (he’d got his finger stuck in the hole when tree climbing a few days earlier and it’d snagged on a fence while he and Moll fled from the farmer the month before) but he’d grown attached to the thing and he gripped it until his fingers were white. Then he plunged his hand inside an old sack, brought out a handful of oats and scattered them over the floor. ‘Keep us safe, tree spirits,’ he whispered. ‘Keep us safe.’
But the oats weren’t strong enough to force Skull back and Moll felt his call, urging her to give up, to hand herself over to his gang. She turned to Siddy. ‘Tell me something good, Sid, something that’ll close my mind right off to Skull.’
Sid bit his lip and then he said, ‘Olive. That was your ma’s name. And your pa, he was called Ferry.’
And just like that something inside Moll stirred – something stronger and bigger than Skull’s Dream Snatch. His curses dissolved into silence and Moll clenched her fists. She thought of her parents visiting Skull’s clearing all those years ago. She thought of Gryff’s touch, so warm and strong.
‘I’ll find out how Skull killed my parents,’ she muttered. ‘He may have owned their minds, but he’s not owning me.’ She paused. ‘No one owns me.’
That night a figure entered the forest and passed by Skull’s camp unseen. On it crept, through the deadened glade and in between the sallow beeches, wearing the night like a cloak. It paused briefly by the river boundary, then lowered itself into the water and waded across. With silent stealth, it edged closer to Oak’s camp.
Perched like a china ornament, an owl hooted from a branch. The figure stopped, brushing its long grey hair back from its face. There was music further ahead – a pan flute, a fiddle, an accordion. The camp were celebrating something. But this was no time for a party.
The Dreamsnatcher Page 5
