"Weird!" She grimaced and swallowed back the acrid taste that still clung to her tongue. "Must be more tired than I realized." She tried standing a second time, felt fine, and gave no more thought to the strange sensation.
"Of course, if you'd prefer to take your chances with the butcher, you're welcome to sleep all night," she said quietly into Runt's ear.
"Wreeet!" The pig jolted upright.
"Take it easy, I was only kidding. Let's go Smoky." She patted the larger hog's shoulder, before moving off.
Carole waited for the pigs to join her at the man-door. "All right, no talking 'til we're well away from the house. Remember, King might be out there. Watch for my signals and keep to the shadows." Opening the door a crack, she peered into the night. "What's with the moon? It was supposed to be cloudy tonight. Well, there's nothing we can do about that now."
She stepped aside to allow Runt and Smoky to pass, and following, shut the door soundlessly behind her. Outside all was quiet, the farmhouse dark. She listened intently but could hear no sound of snoring. Beatrice's dog wasn't on the back porch. That certainly made things simpler. With a flick of her wrist, she motioned for the pigs to follow and set off for the forest which bordered the eastern edge of the farm.
Soon they were wading through the high, untended grasses of a fallow hay field, but instead of breathing easier, Carole felt her chest begin to tighten. Something was wrong. Holding up her hand, she stopped to look around.
Moon shadows must have been playing tricks with her mind, because off to her left, she thought she could see a chipped gravestone pushing up through the weeds. She went over to investigate. Only tufts of wild grass, shimmering in the moonlight.
Shrugging, she turned towards the pigs, but from the corner or her eye saw movement. The grave marker was back!
Whipping around, she stared hard at the spot. The stone vanished. She looked away. It reappeared. She looked back and it vanished again. Goose bumps began crawling up her arms.
"Do you guys see that thing?" she whispered.
Neither pig answered.
"Runt? Smoky?"
The hogs were staring straight ahead, jaws agape. Aware of her suddenly dry mouth, Carole looked along their line of sight. The field was full of dozens and dozens of tilted, crumbling tombstones. Something wet touched her ankle. With a strangled shriek, she sprang into the air.
Runt grunted an apology.
"Don't do that!" she gasped. "What's going on? This is supposed to be a hay field. Where the heck did the graveyard come from?"
Carole inched towards another of the markers. This one didn't vanish. She reached out cautiously. Her fingers passed through the stone as they would through a wisp of cold mist. Tiny hairs on her nape stood up like the quills on a porcupine's back.
"We're standing in the middle of a ghost graveyard!" she squeaked. "Not just any graveyard but a ghost graveyard. And you guys see it too, right?"
Smoky pushed in as close as he could get without knocking her over. Runt backed beneath Smoky.
"Maybe it's some sort of group hallucination. Maybe we're just dreaming."
The pigs looked back and forth between Carole and the markers.
A shadowy gray-white figure materialized beside them. "Yipes!" she squawked, as she fell over Smoky.
The figure melted away. "I don't think it's a dream." She gulped and rose quickly to her knees.
Runt, who was now trying to crawl up Carole's back, whimpered in agreement.
Another shadowy form appeared, this one directly overhead, but almost as quickly it too vanished.
"That wasn't just fog, was it?"
Smoky shook his head.
"Didn't think so. Any ideas?"
Runt lifted his snout and sniffed. Smoky did likewise. Neither seemed to have an answer.
Carole craned her neck over the tall grasses, scanning first the farmyard behind, and then the rest of the field still ahead. She saw nothing, no headstones and no ghosts. In fact the night had become deathly still.
Uncertain whether this was a good or bad sign, she wondered if it were best to keep going. However before she could decide, an unearthly howl shattered the dark. Yelping, Runt buried his snout beneath his forelegs.
"Werewolf? There's no such thing!"
"Reet!"
"Are you sure?"
Peering through his hooves, the little pig blinked up at the full moon.
"Oh. Do you think we're in danger? I mean if we're in a ghost graveyard, then maybe it's a ghost werewolf too, and the ghosts don't seem to be bothering us. In fact I can't even see them anymore."
Smoky began whining softly.
"I know. It's a werewolf. Runt just said so!"
"Wroot!"
"What do you mean something else? What sort of something else?"
She picked at her bottom lip. "Okay, okay let's all just calm down a bit." Her heart was pounding. "Now this howling thing, it sounded close but can either of you actually smell it?"
"Er... rit."
"What about you Smoky?"
"Wrot."
"Good. That's good. And what about the ghosts or the headstones, can you smell them?"
Both pigs shook their heads.
"So maybe the werewolf is just another ghost, which makes it noisy and definitely freaky but not really dangerous. So that only leaves this new thing. You sure you smell something, Smoky? Couldn't it be a stray farm smell, or maybe something from the house?"
The hog gave Carole a severe look.
"Okay, okay, then what about a phantom smell, sort of here but not really, like the ghosts."
"Reet rit ret?"
"Of course I don't know what I'm talking about, but unless you've got a better explanation I'd much rather it be a phantom smell than something real that is actually out here stalking us!"
Neither pig spoke.
She pulled her lip out even farther, while considering their options. Hiding in the grass wasn't accomplishing anything, and if they were being hunted, it might be safer to keep moving. She looked skyward and saw a lone cloud slipping towards the moon. "That'll have to do. We move when the cloud passes in front of the moon. If we're lucky, the change in light will momentarily confuse whatever's out there and give us a bit of a head start. Unless of course it sees better in the dark, or uses its nose more than its eyes. That is, if it has eyes!"
The two pigs looked first at each other and then at Carole. A second later all three were tearing across the field, making for the forest as fast as their legs could go. She dove behind the first tree she reached and spun around, half expecting to see a slobbering beast loping towards her. The field, still bathed in moonlight, seemed to be alive with shadowy wraiths sliding over the ground, winking into and out of existence. However, none of the forms were following, and thankfully nothing else was moving in her direction.
"We went through all those?" Carole shuddered from head-to-toe. "I've never seen one ghost in my entire life and tonight we get wagon loads of them. But at least I don't see anything else. How about you guys?" Before either pig could answer, a mournful wail cut through the air.
"Werewolf?"
Runt nodded.
"But it's not after us?"
Smoky shook his head.
"And the other thing, is it still...?"
Both pigs shrugged uncertainly.
"Best keep under cover. We'll wind through the trees to shake it off our tracks."
They moved quickly, weaving and backtracking and pausing every few minutes to listen for sounds of pursuit. In fact, they were so focused on what might be happening behind them, that Carole crossed the narrow but distinct break in the trees, almost without realizing it. The forest trail.
Even in the semidarkness she could see Smoky's eyes grow large. "Don't worry Smoke, the path widens after about a hundred yards. You'll be fine. Besides, the ghosts are back there, and I'm the one who has to face them again, not you."
Carole looked at her nervous friends. This was not the way she'd wanted
it to end. "All right you two, I'll make sure nothing follows, but just in case, don't slow down for a good twenty minutes. Okay?" She hugged first Smoky and then Runt. "I'm really going to miss you guys. Now hurry, off you go."
The pigs trotted a short distance down the path, and then stopped. Runt wheeled around and came racing back. He leapt into her arms and began licking her face. Carole squeezed him so hard that his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
"I'm going to miss you more than anything Runt, but you've got to hurry. So this time don't come back, don't turn back. Don't even look back."
Runt gave a sad little grunt, before he jumped down and ran after Smoky, who was pacing nervously amongst the tall trees. The tiny pig took the lead and in no time at all the pair had vanished from Carole's sight.
* * *
- 4 -
Carole turned from the trail with a heavy heart, only to leap back with a horrified gasp. Standing not five feet from her was the tallest, thinnest, palest man she'd ever seen. His hair stuck out from the top of his head like a white bush glowing eerily in the moonlight. His eyebrows, just as bushy and white, almost totally covered his eyes; eyes which stared down at her so fiercely that she suddenly knew how a mouse felt when looking into the face of a hungry owl.
She noted with alarm that he was definitely solid. She gulped once and waited for him to make the first move, hoping he wasn't hungry for a late night snack. The stick man lifted one long arm and pointed a spider-like finger at her chest. In a very nasally voice he said, "Do you communicate in a similar conversational fashion with all porcine quadrupeds, or do the ungulates require specific evolutionary adaptation to reciprocate in kind?"
"Huh?" Carole gaped.
"Those ungulates, even-toed are they not? Are they also equipped with the essential vocal apparatus to articulate phonetic speech rhythm patterns?"
It sounded like he was speaking English. She just had no idea what he was saying, but at least one thing was obvious. At the moment he didn't seem hungry. In fact the more she stared at him, the less predatory and more comical he began to look.
Carole realized he was still waiting for her to answer. "I'm sorry, but I didn't quite get what you're saying."
"Are you not in middle school? I admit your name escapes me at this moment, but then I rarely acquaint myself with lower or middle grade students. Still and nonetheless, there is a distinctly familiar look about you."
"I do go to Piedmont Elementary. Grade six."
"Piedmont? A monobrain establishment?! But..." The man's face took on a quizzical expression. "Those quadra... I mean those...pigs? You gave them specific verbal instructions and sent them away."
She was getting nervous again. How much did he know? "Yes." She decided not to lie but also not to reveal more than was necessary.
"You obviously frequent porcine environs."
"What?"
"You live with the pigs."
"Oh, I suppose I do. Most of the time, anyway."
"Then would you be so kind as to answer this simple question. Can you converse as freely... That is can you talk as easily with any pig?"
"Just the brainy ones."
"Why just them?"
"Well, all pigs are smart, much smarter than people usually think, but it's only the brainy pigs who can really understand."
"Understand what?"
"What I'm saying."
"Ah, so the less brainy pigs cannot understand you."
"No."
"But you of course can still understand them."
"No. No I can't."
"You cannot?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just can't is all."
"You have actually tried?"
"Of course I have."
"When?"
"I don't know. When I was smaller, I suppose. What difference does it make?"
"Perhaps no difference at all. So, you were assisting two brainy pigs to escape." He pulled at his long chin which, she suddenly realized, was actually a short pointy beard. "Why?"
"So they won't be slaughtered by the butcher."
"...the butcher?" Spidery fingers continued exploring his beard. "Ah yes, monobrains often consume animal flesh for nutritional supplement. Truly interesting and highly laudable of you, child.
"Well I must be off." And with that, the strange stick-man spun about on his right heel, took a step and vanished.
Carole blinked a couple of times to make sure, but the man was definitely gone. She examined the grass where he'd been standing and saw that it was untouched. Shivers began leapfrogging up and down her spine. Maybe he was a ghost after all.
Having had more than enough adventure for one night, she decided it was time to head for home. Unfortunately there was still the problem of the ghost graveyard. Going through the haunted field was definitely the fastest route, but was it the safest?
A piercing howl echoed off the nearby trees and she bolted for the ghosts without another thought.
Spirits flitted across her path. Some close enough for her to look into their pale, vacant faces, but either they didn't see her or they were ignoring her, both of which were fine by her. At one point she stumbled into a gravestone, passing through it as she would an icy block of air. She shuddered with revulsion but managed to keep on her feet.
Eventually she was leaning against the inside of her cottage door, winded but safe.
* * *
- 5 -
"So what do you think it all means?" Carole's hands were wrapped around a soothing mug of hot chocolate.
Hal looked overtop his own steaming mug, carefully considering her words. "I think, daughter-not, that in all likelihood our long wait will soon be at an end."
"Really? How so?"
"If what you told me is an accurate accounting of events, then something remarkable has just happened, something which rivals your own spectacular arrival, so many years ago. All things being considered, I believe the two are connected."
"So what do we do now?"
"We finish our hot chocolate and go to bed."
"Go to bed!?" Carole looked shocked.
"There's nothing more to be done at this time but to wait for what will happen next. We can just as easily do that asleep as awake."
"But there must be something. Shouldn't we at least go back to the field and check on the ghosts?"
"And what would you have us do with them, once we've checked?"
"I dunno, something. Anything!" She pushed off her chair and began to pace. "I mean, if they do mean something, maybe we'd better keep an eye out."
"For?"
"For whatever else might turn up."
He watched Carole do another circuit of the room. "Did I ever tell you the tale of the hungry traveler who had the misfortune of running into an even hungrier lion?"
"No."
"Care to hear it?"
"I guess so."
Hal patted the empty chair. "Care to join me while I tell it to you?"
Carole slowly walked over.
"Now then, it seems there was this solitary traveler who, because of his empty belly, unwisely chose to leave the road and go searching the fields for roots and berries to eat. Unfortunately, he happened across a lion who was also hoping to fill its belly. The lion did as any sensible lion would and jumped up from its hiding place in the grass to chase after the man. He did as any sensible man would and ran for his life. Now it just so happened that there was absolutely nowhere for the man to go except over the edge of a cliff. However, as luck would have it, there was a long root trailing over the cliff, which the man managed to catch hold of as he jumped. And so there he was, hanging by this meager lifeline. Certain death waited below, should he lose his grip and fall, and the jaws of the lion waited above, should he climb."
"So what'd he do?" Carole said, sounding interested despite herself.
"Not yet." Hal smiled. "It gets better. For you see there was this tiny hole in the side of the cliff, just below the pacing lion. Out of th
is tiny hole appeared an even tinier mouse. The mouse began to gnaw away on that very root to which the man was so desperately clinging. He looked about, but the only thing within reach was a single red strawberry, growing out of a thin crack in the rock. Now you tell me, what did the man do?"
"Throw the berry at the mouse?"
"Not bad," Hal chuckled, "but the mouse was quite well protected by the root and its hole. There was no way the man could've hit it."
"He screamed at it?"
"The mouse was also deaf."
Carole shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know."
"He picked the berry, popped it into his mouth and enjoyed every ounce of sweetness that fruit had to offer." Hal leaned back against his chair and waited.
"So," Carole said after a few seconds of thought, "you're saying that instead of worrying over things I can't do anything about, I should focus on stuff that I can do something about, like enjoying my hot chocolate."
"Very good. Since you can't change the past, or do anything about the future, you might as well enjoy the strawberry."
"I might as well," Carole agreed, lifting her drink, "since I doubt I'll be getting much sleep tonight, anyhow."
* * *
- 6 -
The heavens were alive with vibrant, swirling colors. Giggling to herself, Carole pushed off and swam towards those pulsing rainbows. A ribbon snaked past and as she caught hold, pulling it close, she inhaled deeply, and sneezed.
She winced as streaks of orange light splashed across her eyes, bleaching the familiar dream from her mind. Pulling the blanket from her face, she sat up and groggily rubbed her nose. From the next room over, the sound of her father-not's regular breathing tugged hypnotically, lulling her back towards slumber. She flopped onto her pillow, turning away from the window, and closed her eyes. But instead of sleep, her mind flooded with images of the previous evening, and seeping in with them came the bitter realization that today was butcher day and Runt and Smoky were gone.
A cold lump formed in her belly. She pulled her knees to her chest but the mass remained. Despite her fatigue, she struggled to her feet, dressed quietly and left the cottage. Hal would understand.
The Lost Witch Page 2
