by Joni Sensel
No! Ariel swept her own hand through the bones to destroy their arrangement--to stop them from reaching or curling into a fist. Unable to breathe, she scooped the bones into the jar, shut it tight, and stuffed it into the trunk, under her farwalking pack.
The sight of her pack cooled her panic. It reminded her that she had faced worse threats than bones. Although not yet fifteen, she'd defied evil men to become a Farwalker, reviving a trade that had been completely wiped out. She'd traveled to places that shouldn't exist and outwitted those who had wanted to hurt her. She refused to let a crow's garbage frighten her senseless.
Yet she couldn't sit still, given what she'd just seen. Ariel jumped to her feet. Nace had gone to bed down the chickens and goats, but he'd back soon. He'd toss the whole jar in the privy for her, if she asked. She needn't tell him she'd cast the bones or how they had fallen. Saying it out loud would make it too real. She'd simply make sure they couldn't come back, and then she'd let Nace's eyes dash away other thoughts. Or perhaps it would not be his eyes that soothed her. Sometimes he spoke to her with his lips, without words but in a truer language they were learning together.
Boots scuffed in the hall. Eagerly Ariel swung her door open.
"Ariel?"
She tried to hide her disappointment. She should have known by the sound, since Nace always moved with a cat's silence and grace. Zeke shuffled his big feet at her doorway.
"Can I come in?"
A year ago, he would have barged in without asking, full of confidence in the knowledge that they were best friends. But things had changed since Nace had joined them the abbey.
"Uh, sure." Her legs jittered.
"Is something wrong?"
She squirmed. "No. I... was about to go check our boiled wood. Want to come?" Nace would wait.
Zeke whisked his straw-colored hair from his eyes. "No. I wanted to make sure you were all right. You've been kind of... serious lately. Used to be, you would have laughed at the crow. And then today--I hope it won't give you nightmares."
Ariel shivered.
"You've already had nightmares?"
"Some." They'd been murky and vague, terrors felt more than seen, hands reaching from darkness to-- Hands. Her neck stiff, Ariel fought to keep her eyes off the trunk and the ghoulish thing hidden inside.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Zeke asked.
"I did." Hoping he'd drop it, she shrugged. Finally she had to add, "Nace."
Zeke's gaze fell to the floor. "Oh."
"I'm all right," Ariel said quickly. "Or I will be, if winter will end. Thanks for asking, though. I'm glad you were with us today."
Zeke nodded, but he didn't look up.
"I'm... going now," she said, easing past him.
Softly he said, "You don't talk to me anymore. Why not?"
"I talk to you all the time! We're talking now, if you haven't noticed." But she knew what he meant.
"Not real talking. What did I do?"
"Nothing," Ariel said. Defensive thoughts rose, though. Zeke had been cool to Nace from the start, and Ariel had felt forced to choose.
"Nothing." Zeke nodded sourly. "All I need for bone soup." He turned to leave.
Ariel couldn't bear his hurt tone. "Wait, Zeke. I'm sorry, I just..." She swallowed hard. If she cast the bones with him watching, would they fall in a meaningless pile? But if the hand formed again, she'd have more reason to fear. Besides, shouldn't Nace be the first to share her secrets? Except Nace had no understanding of Elbert, a threat from the past that only Zeke knew.
Zeke's scowl softened and he took an awkward step forward. "Come on, you got something to spice up my soup? You know the story. An old turnip? A beet?"
His humor won her. Ariel wanted to joke, too, but her voice wouldn't do it. "The bones the crow has been bringing--I think they're Elbert's."
Taken aback, Zeke asked, "Why?"
"They're bones from a hand, Zeke! Not some weasel or squirrel. A big hand. Look, I'll show you." She bent to fumble with her trunk, but her fingers wouldn't work right, and the words tumbling from her mouth seemed to get in the way. "It can't be chance. Can't be. He's coming after me somehow." She spun back to Zeke. "I don't know what to do!"
Zeke moved closer, his awkwardness gone. "No. They're probably from a bear or raccoon. Their paws are like hands, too. But that doesn't matter. Bones are the same as fallen tree branches--empty. That's nothing, Ariel. Throw them away. Elbert Finder is gone. He's been gone for almost two years."
"I know," she moaned. "But the crow keeps bringing them to me and not anyone else, like it's hauling the whole skeleton one bone at a time. And his hat today, too, finding its way down the mountain as if seeking a head--"
Zeke took her by both shoulders, halting the rush of her words. "Stop. He can't hurt you."
The firmness in his voice surprised her almost as much as his grip. As Zeke had carved out his unusual trade, he'd been growing more like the stones: solid and wise.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "Would the stones warn you about anything bad going on?"
A shadow passed over his face, and his fingers slid down her arms before he released her. "The stones tell me plenty I don't want to hear. But not about Elbert." He turned away.
"What's that mean?" She reached after him. "Zeke!"
He spun back to her, and they nearly collided. Off-balance, Ariel flung a hand to his chest. They ended so close she could smell his boy scent and feel the warmth of his breath. Silently Zeke gazed down at her, for he was nearly a foot taller now. The grey depths of his eyes made her dizzy.
"I miss you," he said softly.
"I-- I'm right here."
He shook his head slowly. "Not like you used to be. Not like before. That's the trouble, not winter or Elbert. Things should be more like they used to be. Or, I don't know, maybe... maybe more..." His face tipped closer.
Her heart thumping, Ariel held still while confusion roiled in her. He felt so familiar. If his arms wrapped around her, he could steady them both. She ached for that comfort. Her other hand rose to his shoulder, but whether to bridge the space between them or fend him off, she didn't know.
Her hands knew. They circled his neck. She leaned closer and a plea floated out on her breath. "Zeke?"
But his name clunked in her ears, the wrong name for these feelings. Avoiding the brush of his lips, Ariel jerked away. Her arms yanked her hands back where they belonged.
Zeke winced and exhaled hard. "Right."
"What are you doing?" Ariel whispered, but the question was meant for them both.
"You let him kiss you, Ariel."
Embarrassment rose through her, followed by a spurt of anger. "How do you know? Is that what the stones tell you? And how is it any of your business, Zeke?"
He exploded into motion, his arms flapping, his feet stomping. "Why shouldn't it be mine? You're m-- I mean..." He spun to pace left and right. "I thought... aw, I don't--"
Ariel made a choked sound. Nace stood at the open doorway. His approach had been soundless, and Zeke's body had blocked her view until now. She stood frozen. Then panic flowed through her, threaded with guilt--and more anger, this time at herself.
"Nace!" Her greeting came out too shrill, and she wondered how long he'd been there.
Long enough. Dismay and confusion clouded his features. He spread his hands in a gesture she knew meant What do you want me to do?
She scrambled toward him, but she couldn't resist a glance back. The bitterness on Zeke's face whisked away. The hope that replaced it was worse.
"Thank you for trying to make me feel better, Zeke." Ariel kept her voice low, hoping it wouldn't carry to Nace, although the Kincaller would likely hear her thought anyway. "And... I'm sorry. But I don't 'let' him do anything. I kiss him."
At that, Nace strode in to her side, his hands clenched into fists. He ignored her tentative smile, glaring at Zeke. Although taller, Zeke was a year younger, and without the Kincaller's athletic strength.
"You've always been like m
y brother, Zeke," Ariel said quickly.
The tension in Nace did not ease. He gave Zeke a curt jerk of one thumb: Get out.
"She can speak for herself, if that's what she wants," Zeke retorted. "Unlike a Kincaller I know."
"Zeke!"
Nace lunged.
"Nace, no!" Ariel reached to stop him. Too late. Nace grabbed Zeke and shoved him hard toward the doorway. Zeke struck the doorframe and stumbled.
Ariel moaned. Zeke righted himself and stepped forward again.
"Hit me all you want," he told Nace. "We both know she'll like that. And you wouldn't have to do it if you weren't worried about me."
Nace quivered. Not sure which conflicting impulse would win, Ariel clutched his arm. "Stop!"
He yanked from her grasp and spun to her, his hair flying. Ariel tried desperately to open her heart to him, because she knew he would trust what he sensed of her emotions more than anything she might say.
"He didn't mean to say what he did!" she cried. "Please don't fight. Zeke's my best friend! And yours, too."
Zeke snorted.
Ariel reached to soothe Nace. But whatever he heard of her thoughts didn't reassure him. He threw up his hands, shouldered past Zeke, and stalked out.
"Nace, wait!" Her words went unheeded.
"I shouldn't have made that crack about speaking," Zeke murmured.
"No, you shouldn't." Empathy ruined Ariel's anger. "Are you all right? That looked like it hurt."
"Not much." He shook his head, his denial soon turning to disbelief. "You kiss him."
Ariel sighed. "You don't get it, Zeke."
"No, I don't! But if you ever talked to me any more, you could tell me. Tell me! I'll listen. I'll even try to understand."
A longing hit Ariel so hard she could taste it, metallic and slick. Zeke could talk to her effortlessly in a way that Nace couldn't, and months had passed since they'd shared more than mealtime chatter. She imagined curling next to him on a bench and describing the shivery feeling that Nace stirred in her like a breeze.
Her heart balked. Such words seemed better saved for Nace and too cruel to hand Zeke. Besides, she no longer trusted Zeke--or herself--to just talk.
"No, I can't, Zeke," she whispered. "Not that." And even one subject they couldn't broach put a high wall between them.
He turned and slouched out in the opposite direction from the way Nace had gone.
Ariel stared at the empty hallway and wondered if she should go after Nace. A mutual apology took only one look. She could hold his hand and try to explain, and he would hush her lips with his fingers and nod. He was probably in the courtyard, staring up at the stars.
She lifted her winter cloak from its peg near the door. A bone tumbled out.
Ariel flinched. Replacing the cloak, she steeled herself and picked up the bone. It felt frail, dry and cool. She could almost hear Elbert's laugh vibrate through it. The evening's events would have pleased him.
Two winters had passed since he'd left the world, but his skeleton still must be sprawled in the rocks. One hand, or perhaps parts of two, would be gone. When she closed her eyes, Ariel could see the gleaming remains, the ribcage sprung like a half-woven basket, the empty skull grinning--grinning toward her. Grinning and plotting revenge.
Ariel snapped the bone, flung the halves into the hall, and slammed her door on the broken bone and both boys. She had no idea how to fix their jealous strife. But she did know a way to fix her problem with bones.
Chapter 3
Ariel did not light a candle. Dawn was still at least an hour away, and she didn't want to risk waking anyone with the glow. She hadn't slept--not with a dead hand in her room--but the abbey was silent. So she threw off her nightshirt and pulled on her clothes and her cloak by feel.
After grabbing her boots, she tiptoed from her room. The flagstones chilled her toes through her socks. The cold didn't numb her Farwalker instincts, though. Her feet led her toward the front door of the abbey without bumping her into any walls or corners.
A sense of being observed made her shiver as she crept through the dark halls. It must have been because she was sneaking, that's all. The empty eye sockets in Elbert's bare skull couldn't see for miles through walls in the dark. By the time the sun hit the high meadows, where the snow must be receding from his winter-bleached bones, Ariel hoped to be well up the hillside, climbing purposefully in the birdsong and breeze.
The only noise now was the faint buzzing of snores. Longing swept her as she passed the rooms where Nace and Zeke slept. She might have asked either to accompany her, but after the quarrel last night, a solo journey seemed best.
When she reached the great wooden door, Ariel bent to slip on her boots and tie them. Straightening, she lifted the latch. It clanked and the door swung agape. Cold air sliced inside as if awaiting the chance.
An arm thrust over Ariel's shoulder from behind her. A hand slapped the wood, shutting the door with a thump. Ariel cringed, sure the rest of Elbert's bones had already come.
"Where are you going at this hour, alone?"
"Oh!" She spun. Scarl Finder stood over her, little more than a tall shadow. She hadn't heard him glide up behind. Although his brown curls had been mussed by his pillow, his voice had no sleep about it. His arm remained firm alongside her head.
Ariel released a limp breath. "You scared me."
No smile lit Scarl's dark eyes or softened the angles of his face. "You ought to be scared, not of me, but of lions. They hunt in the half-light, and we've talked about that. Why are you ignoring my warning?"
Ariel opened her mouth, hoping an answer would fill it. The hungry yowling of mountain lions had disturbed several evenings of late, but she hadn't thought of earthly dangers at all. "I... I thought you meant sunset. I forgot about dawn. I don't want to be anyone's breakfast."
Her guardian relaxed slightly. Perhaps he'd expected an argument from her; she gave him one often enough. "You're not usually even awake before breakfast."
"You're not usually guarding the door." She'd been as silent as she knew how to be. "Did you hear me?"
"No. But I'd like an answer, so I'll ask again: Where were you going? Nace is still in his bed, so it must not have been to a tryst." His voice teetered between annoyed and amused.
Ariel shifted her weight. "My feet are restless, that's all. It's been too long since we traveled. I'm anxious to farwalk again."
"It has been a stifling winter," he agreed. "But I know you better than that. Either tell me what's roused you before sunup or go back to bed."
Ariel fought a habitual resistance to orders. Unlike most apprentices, she had no Farwalker master to teach her, so she'd grown used to figuring things out for herself. Besides, she wasn't certain how Scarl would react.
"You'll think it's silly," she said.
"Try me."
She looked at her hands, her fingers knotting together. "I need to see Elbert's bones. Make sure they're still there. And scatter them. Or bury them. Or something." Crushing them with a rock sounded more vengeful than she cared to admit.
"Not to honor them, surely. Are they giving you nightmares?"
She nodded. "And you know how that crow has been pestering me? Watch." She reached into her pocket. Last night, she'd knotted the bones into a sock to be lighter to carry. Untying the sock, she spilled them once more. The bones landed neatly in the shape of a thumb and spread fingers.
"I haven't seen any ghost," she murmured, staring at the hand on the floor, "but it feels like he's grabbing at me from out of the world." Hearing her own quavering voice, Ariel made a face and prepared to return to her room. Scarl wouldn't scoff, not after prying the reason from her, but he'd probably assure her the bones' shape could somehow be explained, or at least that a long trip up the mountain was foolish. She'd have to slip out later, unseen.
"Let me get my coat." Scarl's expression was somber. He crouched to sweep the bones into his fist. "And something to fend off sharp teeth. I don't think a lion would try two together,
but we'd better be ready, in case."
"You'll climb up there with me?" She was torn between relief and dismay. By accepting her fears, Scarl had validated them.
"I killed him, didn't I?" He took the sock from her. "The least I can do is help you put him to rest, however you need to do it."
Although grateful for his answer, Ariel looked away. They rarely spoke of the day Scarl had saved her life by finishing Elbert's. It reminded them both of a time when she hadn't considered Scarl a friend, let alone the closest thing she had to a father.
"It'll take us all day," she said. "That's why I got up so early."
"I haven't forgotten the place any more than you have."
Something in his tone caught Ariel's ear. "Have you had nightmares, too?"
His expression remained neutral as he chose how to answer. That alone told her.
"Not for the same reasons, I expect. I'll be right back." He turned toward the heart of the abbey and glanced over his shoulder. "You know I'll catch up if you head off without me, don't you? Except then I'll be angry."
She tried to smile. "You, angry? Never." But she added, "I won't." She wanted his companionship, but she would have been helpless to stop it regardless. As a Finder, he could track her unerringly. And though he suffered a limp from an old injury, Scarl's long strides still moved faster than hers.
Ariel stepped outside while she waited. The dawn breeze, crisp with the smell of snow, riffled her bangs and nipped at her ears. The sky had gone grey while she and Scarl had talked, so the nearby peaks stood out against it. Clumps of snow shone in the hollows, defying spring's efforts to melt them. Ariel pulled her cloak tighter and hoped ice wouldn't hamper her search for white bones. Out here in the awakening world, though, her fears held less weight. Even if much larger bones appeared next, no skeleton could stand up to stalk her. It wouldn't need the crow if it could.
