by Leah Day
“Menda did this? She took threads from you?” Mally whispered.
“Yes… it has hurt… ever since.”
“Is there anything you can do?” Patch asked quietly.
Mally closed her eyes and lightly touched the ripped fabric. How can I fix this? she thought, but again the crown only showed her an image of Quilst fully repaired, just as it had for Ms. Bunny. Her shoulders slumped. “Did it get any better today? Is the pain less?”
The owl closed his eyes and swayed back and forth. “I am… talking to you. So yes… it’s better today.”
“Good. My friend has a missing piece too. We’re going to fix it all, I promise,” Mally said, but her words felt empty in the face of Oak and Shadow’s obvious pain. The little owl shifted back inside the horse’s chest and closed his eyes.
Mally’s attention was suddenly caught by something fluttering in the breeze over Oak’s back. There on the side of the mountain, looped through a long stitch was a strip of brightly colored cloth. “What is that?”
She ran over and pulled it down. It was a silk scarf. She slid it through her hands and watched the colors shift smoothly from red to orange to bright yellow. And there at the end was a big blue dot.
She dyed fabric and scarves with Grandma one sunny Saturday before her eighth birthday. She could still remember the hot sun on the back of her neck and the way sweat kept trickling down into her gloves, but Grandma wouldn’t let her take them off. She had painted what felt like a hundred scarves that day, and this one was her favorite. Bright and cheerful with the colors of the sun. She’d painted it carefully and set it apart from the rest to dry.
But when she checked it later, she’d nearly cried. A single drop of blue paint had landed in the middle of the yellow section. It was ruined. In a split second she went from loving the scarf to hating it so much she never wanted to see it again.
But Grandma had loved it. She’d kept it and wore it almost every day. Mama had searched her house top to bottom looking for it, along with Grandma’s favorite red quilted jacket. It had nearly driven her crazy looking for this scarf, yet here it was.
“Patch, this is Grandma’s scarf.” Mally held it up, stunned. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she asked Oak, “Where did this come from?”
But it was Shadow who answered in his labored voice, slightly muffled from inside the horse’s chest. “The Quilt Maker… She was… falling… with us... When the white filled the darkness… she helped us… climb up…”
“The Quilt Maker? You knew my grandma?” Mally asked excitedly.
“A story for another day,” Patch interrupted, and Mally saw a strange look pass from Patch to Oak. Before she could ask, the horse flicked her tail at the path curving around the base of the mountains.
“She wandered off in that direction. She didn’t want to stick around for the Ripping Witch to catch her a second time.”
“We need to find her,” Mally said impatiently, turning to look up the path. Her bare feet itched to take off running, but a painful twist from the crown reminded her she still had duties to fulfill here. “She won’t know what’s happened and probably thinks Menda is still a threat.”
“The crazy hag is gone, then?” Oak asked.
“There’s a lot to catch you up on, my friend. The Ripping Witch is no more, and you have this little Maker, now the new Queen of Quilst, to thank for that,” Patch said, patting Mally on the back with one huge paw.
“Queen? I noticed the crown. That’s a dangerous amount of power for a Maker to carry.”
“Menda wasn’t a Maker, she was a monster,” Mally said, clutching the scarf in her fist.
But Grandma made Menda, a little voice in her head reminded her. What does that make Grandma?
Mally shook her head, ignoring the thought. “I would never use this power to do anything like Menda. I’m using it to fix Quilst.”
With that she marched past the horse to the gaping tear in the landscape. She sank to her knees and buried her fingers in the frayed fabric. The scarf was still clutched in her hand and one end blew against her face as she said the magic words.
Whoosh!
She opened her eyes and watched the broken threads weaving themselves together along the edge of the fabrics. Many pieces of cloth and fiber flew off to fix things further away. She smiled as the path became perfect once more. Thousands of French knots formed a gray path that snaked its way between the mountains.
The fabrics were no longer frayed, but crisply turned and decorated with a simple blanket stitch where the two mountains overlapped. She ran her fingertips along the seam and felt her eyes burn. Grandma. If you’d only stayed here with Oak and Shadow, we could be going home right now.
The crown twisted painfully around her head again and she caught herself. Even if she had found Grandma, there was still a lot of work to be done before she could go home.
The sound of flapping wings had her spinning around in alarm. Shadow perched on the edge of the hole in Oak’s chest, stretching one wing, then the other, a look of shock spread across his small face. He flew a short distance and landed on the horse’s back. His tiny beak quirked into a smile at their shocked faces. “Thank you, Queen Mally. That was a great mend.”
He bowed to her and Mally was momentarily distracted from her thoughts about Grandma as she caught sight of Shadow’s chest. Apparently a lot of the broken threads between the two mountains had belonged to him because only a small hole remained on the left side of his chest, just like Ms. Bunny’s.
Without pausing to think, she ripped a piece from her shirt sleeve and held it out. “Patch and heal, hold and seal. Make him as whole as I am able.”
The crown spun around her head slowly and Mally watched as a tiny red heart formed on Shadow’s chest, the ends of the fabric weaving into the edges of the hole. The owl stared at the spot for several seconds, then with a shrill screech, he took off. His black wings beat against the air, carrying him higher and higher into the mountains.
“Careful you don’t strain your stitches!” Oak shouted from the ground, her four hooves dancing nervously. The hole in her chest gaped wider than ever and white stuffing littered the path around her.
“He’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, aren’t looking so hot,” Patch said, holding out a clump of her fluff.
“You try carrying around a friend who can barely talk, let alone walk or fly! I’ve managed. Just pack it back in, Patch. You know how it goes.”
The crown tightened around Mally’s head and she knew what it wanted her to do. She approached the horse cautiously and held out her hands. “Can I help you too? That looks so painful.”
Oak stared down at her and Mally could see fear in her eyes warring with desire to be free of the pain. She shared a look with Patch that Mally couldn’t interpret and finally nodded her head in assent.
Mally held her hands out and with a few words, stuffing, thread, bits of cloth, and decorative yarns were speeding back to their rightful place. Shadow soared down and landed on Patch’s shoulder just in time to see the last stitches lock together.
The effect was amazing. The fabrics repaired themselves seamlessly and this time no hole was left behind. Brown fabrics flowed over Oak’s chest in gentle curving seams, making her even more wildly beautiful than before. The horse suddenly reared, silver hooves flashing as she pawed the sky, then she took off galloping up the path.
“She didn’t have a missing piece?” Mally asked, watching as Oak became a brown blur against the blue mountains.
“No. The Ripping Witch didn’t make that hole,” Shadow said with a sad smile.
“That was me,” Patch said, looking down at one of his paws. “There are a lot of things we had to do back then that I’d never like to do again.” He extended his sharp claws one by one and Mally shuddered.
“Why did you have to–”
But she was
interrupted by Oak’s return. The horse galloped right up to Mally. Her huge body towered over her and Mally fought the urge to step back. She’d always loved horses and Oak was magnificent, but also a little scary at the same time.
The horse stared down at her for a long second, then suddenly bent her front legs and bowed. Her long neck extended for several seconds before she lifted her head and spoke quietly, “I see now that I was wrong. You aren’t a Maker, little one, you’re a healer. Thank you.”
She turned and nuzzled Shadow gently. The owl batted her face playfully with his wings and Mally could see a glimmer of what these friends were like before Menda had gotten a hold of them.
“We’d better get going,” Patch said, arching his shoulders to knock Shadow off his back. “We have a lot more damage to repair before the day is done.”
“And Grandma is just up the path. We might run into her along the way,” Mally said excitedly, wrapping the scarf securely around her neck.
“Before you go, I’d really like to know how you took the crown,” Shadow said, landing neatly on a nearby rock. It was strange to see the owl moving so easily after being critically hurt just moments before. “I can’t imagine the Ripping Witch parted with it easily.”
“No, she didn’t. We’re meeting tonight at the Great Tree,” Mally said as she climbed onto Patch’s back. “If you’d like to hear the whole story.”
“We’ll be there.”
Chapter 13 - Maker of Menda
Mally kept her eyes peeled for any sign of movement as they flew through the mountain pass. She kept thinking she saw Grandma hiking up a slope or walking through the narrow spaces between the triangles, but every time they drew closer it was just a dead snarl or tangled bit of ripped fabric.
The suns had passed the highest point in the sky and the mountains cast shadows against one another, making it hard to see anything from a distance. Eventually they had to give up and fly back to the mountain room.
Patch angled his wings into a dive and Mally tucked herself tight to his back. They shot through the window and animals scattered in all directions as Patch’s paws skidded across the floor.
“I need to make that window bigger,” Mally said, climbing off his back with a laugh. “Maybe a balcony so you can land–”
Her words died in her throat as she took in the most amazing sight. At first she wondered if they’d come to the right place. The stark room was now filled with color and light. In the center of the floor, a pair of wings had been outlined in gold thread.
Mally recognized the shape and realized the mice had stitched along the pencil lines Ms. Bunny had marked around her on that horrible day they were trapped in this room. Delicate swirls of stitching in white, silver, and black spun around the elegant motif. In the corners, cream colored fabrics had been seamed together cleverly to look like Roman columns.
But the real masterpiece of the room was the story tapestry. Stretching from floor to ceiling, and wrapping around each wall, the story of Quilst was illustrated in brightly colored threads.
Mally’s face burned as she saw a tiny figure in a red shirt standing before the Great Tree, racing away from a tornado, and wielding a small blade against a dark monster. Most of the details were just outlined, but she could see how beautiful the room would look when it was complete.
“Do you like it, Queen Mally?” came a tiny voice from the center of the room.
“I love it,” Mally said in wonder. She tore her eyes away from a new set of doors stitched on the side wall and found a crowd of patchwork animals surrounding Hoop and Ms. Bunny in the corner. “It’s just incredible.”
“We all thought it could use more decoration in here. Too much purple,” Goldie said, scrunching up her tiny nose. Lime hovered nearby with a threaded needle in his beak and Mally could see how they’d added stitching even to the ceiling.
“Ms. Bunny suggested adding the columns,” sang a red and green mouse from the Christmas gang.
“We found your sewing box filled with thread and needles,” Pin chimed in. “I hope you don’t mind us using your materials.”
“Of course not,” Mally said, distracted. She’d just noticed that Ms. Bunny was still laying in Hoop’s paws. The bear didn’t meet her eyes as she bent down and asked, “How are you, Ms. Bunny?”
“Better… a bit better,” the doll said, sitting up with difficulty. She kept both her paws tightly clamped over her heart and tried to lift herself with her elbows.
“Why is she still hurting?” Mally asked, looking at Patch. “I fixed everything broken I could find and it worked for Shadow. It should be much better now.” The crown on her head was spinning so slowly, she couldn’t believe the quilt could still be hurting her friend.
“But her missing piece remains,” Hoop said solemnly. “I don’t know how this will fare until all the threads taken from her are returned.”
Mally took a deep breath. They had worked all day, scouring the landscape for broken bits of the quilt, but it wasn’t enough. “I’ll keep working, Ms. Bunny,” she said softly. “I’ll be right back.”
She stood and swayed on her feet. The crown suddenly felt much heavier and the room spun slowly around her. She reached out to steady herself and felt Patch’s solid body at her side.
“Queen Maker!”
“Mally!”
All the animals in the room rushed over in alarm.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She rubbed her temples and glanced outside. The moons were just peeking over the edge of the landscape. Midnight was coming and if this was any indication, the quilt was much further from being fixed than she thought. The dizzy spell passed and she looked around for Goldie.
“Where is Pattern? Did he find anything broken for me to fix?”
“Yes,” Goldie said. “He’s collected it all in the throne room. Come see!”
Mally and Patch followed the mouse through an endless maze of purple hallways. It was impossible to tell anything apart, but Goldie somehow knew where she was going.
The passageway suddenly opened into a vast chamber. Purple was still the only color in residence, but Mally could see the animals had already started making improvements here as well. Outlines for three stained glass windows had been stitched into the dark fabric along one wall. Dozens of patchwork paws were busy stitching bright threads and fabrics to the surface.
Mally caught sight of a small pile of broken fibers in the middle of the room. She rushed over to mend the damage and it disappeared with a whoosh. A cheer went up around the room and she looked up to find Pattern, Patch, and a host of mice and the black and white cat watching her.
“That’s better… but I can still feel more…” Mally frowned as the crown spun faster.
“This way, Queen Mally,” Pattern said and led them to the next room where another mound of broken threads was piled up along one wall.
“Why didn’t you just pile it all up in the main room?” Patch asked as he followed them.
“I decided to split it up so she wouldn’t create another earthquake and tornado at the same time,” Pattern replied. “I didn’t think that was a good idea in the middle of a mountain.”
“You saw that?” Mally asked.
“I felt it, along with everyone here,” he said. “You rebuilt three mountains in a few seconds, or did you not notice?”
“Oh, I certainly noticed,” Patch said. “It was like standing in a thread blizzard and just about as much fun.”
* * * * *
Back in the room with the window, Mally was happy to find Ms. Bunny sitting up on her own, couching thick green threads to the wall. She stood and gave a little twirl, her blue dress fanning out around her skinny legs. Just like Shadow, she couldn’t seem to resist celebrating being free of pain.
Mally scooped her up into her arms and her friend smiled. “I don’t think I’m used to seeing you with a crown on you
r head, Mally dear.”
“Neither am I,” Mally whispered back. “How are you feeling?”
“Good enough to come with you and Patch. I hear we’re having a gathering at the Great Tree tonight to fix the last of the broken pieces.”
“I hope so. I asked Sunshine for help so…”
“She’ll make it happen if she has to fly to every corner of the quilt herself,” Ms. Bunny said with a laugh, hopping down from Mally’s arms to join the mice stitching the floor.
Hoop smiled up from her stitching nearby. “The quilt is being healed so I think that’s helped greatly as well.” The bear was working on a small bag and had spread out the contents of Mally’s sewing box on the floor. Needles, threads, seam rippers and scissors were neatly arranged in piles and the animals were helping themselves to the tools as needed.
Mally’s heart picked up speed as she noticed her bookbag propped against the wall under the window. She hurried over and unzipped the bag quickly to check inside. The black velvet fabric cut from Menda’s back was folded neatly in the bottom of the bag. She could have sworn she’d just stuffed it inside. What if they find out Grandma made Menda? she thought.
“Shouldn’t I take the scissors back with me?” she asked, giving voice to another fear.
“The only creature with the ability or desire to rip this world has been ruined herself. We need at least a few blades to cut threads for this decorative stitching,” Hoop said with a slight edge to her voice, gesturing at the walls and floor. Many of the animals around the room stopped stitching to watch their exchange.
“But what if someone cuts into the fabric again?” Mally asked. “I’m afraid Ms. Bunny will be hurt if the quilt gets damaged again.”
“No one here wants that, little Queen, or they wouldn’t be stitching their paws off just to make it pretty,” Patch said dryly. “Take the biggest shears. They’re too big for most of us to handle. Leave the rest.”