A figure rounded the corner, cloak splattered with mud, a bundle wrapped in her arms. I drew the arrow back, then caught my breath as the figure looked up, lightning illuminating her features.
“No,” I whispered. She was supposed to be safe. Safe with Samuel and Caleb and Karin. Safe behind the Wall that her town had built to protect its children.
I set the bow aside as Allie stepped into the light of our fire. The bundle squirmed. Two damp ears poked out from beneath oiled leather. Allie reached out, handing the bundle to me.
“You forgot your cat,” she said.
Chapter 10
Tallow climbed into my arms and licked my nose once, then leaped to the ground and stalked beneath the tarp to the fire. Her wet fur stuck out in all directions. She began licking the mud from her coat. I stared at Allie. “What are you doing here?”
“Watching out for you. Because you wouldn't promise to watch out for yourself.” Allie sullenly pulled off her pack, followed Tallow to the fire, and warmed her hands by the flames. Her face was smudged with dirt, her dripping hair loose and tangled. She pulled a chunk of bread from her pack and bit into it fiercely. “You two walk fast, you know that?”
Matthew looked at her, looked at me, then silently filled a pot with water and put it on the fire. Allie huddled down near the flames. My stomach ached as I watched her. She seemed younger than I could ever remember being, too young to be out here. “I thought you weren't allowed Outside,” I snapped, not knowing what else to say.
“Yeah, well, you're not allowed to go around slicing your hands open, either, and then tell me you can't even say it won't happen again.” The firelight cast shadows on her face. “I'm your healer. You're my charge. I understand that, no matter what Dad or Caleb says. I can do what needs doing, too.”
“You could have been killed out there. Don't venture out alone into the dark—”
“It wasn't dark when I left.” Allie sank cross-legged to the ground and let Tallow into her lap. She petted the cat, smearing more mud on them both. “I didn't think you'd go without Tallow. That's why I hid her. But you left anyway, so we both had to follow. Tallow would never abandon you.”
My hands shook. I couldn't find words. Beyond our shelter, rain fell steadily in the darkness. Matthew stared into the hissing pot, steam condensing on his nose and eyelashes. After a time, the water began to boil. He filled a metal mug, tossed in a handful of tea leaves, and handed the mug to Allie. She clutched it tightly as Matthew poured cornmeal into the rest of the water.
“Your father will be worried,” Matthew told her. “Did you consider that?”
Allie scowled into her tea. “Dad's always worried. He wants me to wait until I'm a little old lady to do anything.”
“He wants you to be safe!” My voice rose. “You're going back at first light.”
“I'll follow you again. As often as I have to. You're my charge.”
“Did you leave word?” Matthew's voice was much calmer than mine. “Did you tell someone where you were going?”
“Of course not. I'm not stupid.”
Matthew stirred the cornmeal with a metal spoon. “Listen, Allie. I left to follow Liza, too, so I understand about things that need doing. But you have to let your dad know you're all right. I made sure my grandmother knew before I went.”
Allie sipped her tea. “Did your grandmother try to stop you?”
“No. Gram was worried, she was frightened, but she understood.”
“Your gramma's different, then. Dad would stop me. Caleb and Karin, too. All of them.”
“They should stop you!” I said. “We're going as far from your safe town as anyone can go!”
Allie nodded fiercely. “I know. And I'm going with you. You need a healer anyway. It's dangerous out here.”
“You don't know what danger is.” I didn't have time for this. I needed to be thinking about Mom, not trying to keep this child safe. “We're taking you home.”
Allie set down her tea and began working the tangles from Tallow's coat.
“Did you hear me?”
Allie scowled again as she looked up. “A healer can tell when a healing's not done. Things feel all unfinished, itchy beneath your skin, you know?”
“The only thing I know is that you're going home!” I grabbed her shoulders. She endangered us all—herself, me, Matthew, Mom—I realized I was shaking her only when she tried to twist free, and even then I couldn't seem to stop.
“Liza!” Matthew grabbed my shoulders and jerked me sharply away. Allie fell backward. She didn't cry out, just stared at me with wide, frightened eyes. Matthew whirled me to face him. “Liza, stop.” His voice was lower now, like a growl. “You're not like this, Liza.”
“Let me go,” I hissed. Allie grabbed Tallow into her arms, but she didn't run away. Just like I'd always known better than to run away. I went limp in Matthew's arms. The damp firewood sizzled and popped. “I'm sorry,” I whispered, but I couldn't meet Allie's eyes.
“You're not like him,” Matthew said. He released me, and I drew my arms around myself.
“Go home,” I told Allie. “Go back to your family. Go back where you're safe.”
Allie lifted her chin, her face scared, defiant. “You're not healed yet. I'm not going anywhere.”
I didn't speak to Allie for the rest of the night. I could barely bring myself to look at her. It was Matthew who made sure she ate, helped wash the mud from her skin and hair, and set her bedroll out by the fire.
When I offered to take the first watch, Matthew didn't argue. I stared at the sky, Tallow in my lap, watching the clouds scatter and the stars poke through. I kept a wary eye on the trees above the bluff, but if there were any tree shadows out tonight, I couldn't see them. Perhaps our fire kept them at bay.
A mockingbird called through the night, making a high hollow sound Father said echoed a car alarm. No matter that all the cars were rusted and silent—the birds remembered, and they passed the call on. Allie shivered, shedding her blanket. I scowled and drew it back over her. Her face scrunched up as if she worried at something in her sleep.
By now Samuel knew she was gone. Matthew was right—he'd be worried. He'd be scared. I saw the way he'd looked at her when she came through the Wall unharmed. He'd be searching for her.
What had Father done when I'd gone? Declared that I knew the rules and moved on? Or was he worried, too, even if he didn't let it show? I felt another surge of anger, forced it down, and paced until Matthew gently touched my shoulder and took over the watch.
I woke to Allie and Matthew talking.
“You're still limping,” Allie said.
“Not much.”
“Want me to take a look?”
I opened my eyes to dawn light. My breath frosted in front of me as I sat up. Beyond the tarp the sky was clear, morning mist already thinning away. Allie knelt beside Matthew with her hands over his right leg and her face crinkled in concentration. “That's so strange. Like with Kimi—the injury isn't quite there. It's somewhere else, and without Caleb to show me where, I can't get at it.”
“Don't worry about it.” Matthew smiled and shooed her hands away. “Given the shape I was in a couple days ago, I'll settle for a weak leg.” He turned and drew a pot from the dying embers. The faerie folk could attack again tomorrow, and Matthew would continue boiling water, tending the fire.
He poured tea into plastic water bottles for later. Good plastic, not the kind that melted in the heat. I silently turned to packing our camp while Tallow threaded her way around my ankles and batted at bits of cooling ash caught by the breeze. “You're sure you won't let us take you back?” Matthew asked. Allie just shook her head. I said nothing. I still didn't trust myself to speak. I didn't want her to come, but in truth I had no idea how to stop her.
Allie had no trouble speaking as we shouldered our packs and started out into the cold, clear morning. “So big!” she said as she walked, all hints of the sullen child who'd found us gone. “Who knew the world was so big?”
She twirled in place, right in the path, as if that world were the scene of a child's game, nothing more. Her hair had been braided back from her face, by her or by Matthew, I didn't know.
The sky dimmed as something crossed the sun. I froze, motioning Allie to stillness. Tallow hissed. Matthew made a low warning sound, like a whine at the back of his throat. Above the bluff a red-tailed hawk spread wings against the sky. A chill trickled down my spine. Once hawks had hunted only mice and rabbits, but no longer. Some said they'd bred with hawks from Faerie during the War. They were bigger now than they'd been, and they'd developed a taste for bigger game. Even as I watched, the hawk circled downward.
“Go away,” I whispered fiercely, knowing I didn't have time to untie my bow. “Go away.”
The hawk must have seen other prey. It veered abruptly back toward the bluff and disappeared amid the trees.
Allie fell silent for a time after that. The trees were quiet, too, as if their branches were as numb as the fingers I'd shoved into my pockets. A glow in the middle of the road caught my eye. “Look!” Allie said, seeing it at the same time. A stone the size of my fist, giving off faint purple light. “Just like Jared—”
“Don't!” I jerked Allie's arm back. Don't touch any stone that glows.
Allie pulled her arm away, seeming hurt. “I was only looking. I know better than to interfere with someone else's magic.” She walked in a wide circle around the stone to prove the point. Matthew followed, wrinkling his nose as if he smelled something unpleasant. I went last. Even from the edge of the road I felt cold air brush my ankles. We passed a second stone, this one green, and a third, pale orange. “It feels cold the way healing feels cold,” Allie said. The path narrowed and the stones grew more frequent. It was the lichens clinging to their surfaces that shone, I realized, not the rocks themselves. We veered uncomfortably close to the trees to pass them.
A white glow up ahead made us slow down. We turned a bend—and saw that a rockslide from the bluff blocked most of the trail. Dozens of the stones within it glowed white, as bright as sun on ice. Only a narrow corridor wound between the rocks and trees.
Matthew sniffed the air and started forward. Allie followed. I took up the rear, one hand on my knife. The oaks sighed faintly. The sun was rising, warming their green leaves.
A shadow darkened the rocks ahead. I looked up even as the hawk screeched and dove for us. Allie froze, gaze turned upward, too startled to run. I threw myself over her, saw Matthew hit the dirt as well.
Around us, the stones exploded in a snow-bright blaze.
Chapter 11
The hawk screeched again and fell silent. Pebbles rained down on my back. Somewhere, a wolf howled. A cat tongue licked my face.
I saw nothing but cold white light.
“Liza?” a voice whimpered below me. A hand reached for my own. I took it and squeezed hard. “Liza, I can't see.”
“I'm here,” I told Allie.
Teeth tugged at my sleeve, way too large for a cat. Tallow hissed and leaped to my back. The teeth let go. I heard an anxious whine.
“What's that?” Allie's voice was a child's voice, frightened at a bump in the dark.
I was frightened, too, but I didn't let her know that. “Matthew?” I whispered, reaching out my free hand.
The whining stopped and a damp nose shoved itself into my hand. No teeth this time, just skin and fur and the faint scent of fear. I moved my hand slowly up his nose, between his ears. His coat was rough at the surface, but softer beneath. I moved my hand to Matthew's back as I turned to stand by his side. Tallow hissed again and scrabbled up to my shoulders. With my other hand I urged Allie to her feet.
The wolf started forward but stopped when I didn't follow. “Can you see?” I asked him. No answer. No sound at all, save for soft panting. Tallow's claws dug through my sweater.
What choice did I have but to trust him and his magic? When he started forward again, I walked with him. Only Allie hesitated. “What about Matthew?” she asked, her hand still clutching mine.
“He's—here,” I told her, realizing she didn't know. Even as I spoke I wondered how much of this wild creature really was Matthew and how much was something else.
Cold light pulsed against my eyes as we walked.
Allie's hand trembled in my own. Tallow's claws dug deeper. Only Matthew remained steady. I felt the rise and fall of his shoulders beneath my hand. Around us the trees whispered to one another. Farther off some animal wailed a childlike cry. Wind brushed my cheek.
“My eyes hurt,” Allie said.
“Then close them.” I kept my own eyes open, though. I saw a whisper of darkness against the light and strained to see better. In the distance I could just make out ash and cypress trees, their trunks tangled with ivy. Beyond the trees stood something darker and smoother. A metal arch, taller than any tree; it only seemed dark compared to the whiteness all around me. I quickened my pace, though according to Samuel's map we shouldn't be anywhere near the Arch.
The earth beneath the Arch trembled. A poison ivy vine swung overhead, and I ducked. I released my hold on Matthew's back and pulled Allie near. My knife was in my hand before I knew I'd drawn it.
Yet I felt no breeze as the vine passed by. I heard no sound. I felt no shaking beneath my feet, in spite of the trembling I'd seen. I looked up slowly.
The scene before me rippled like water. The trees faded, replaced by mounds of stone and twisted steel. The Arch rose above them, brighter now, smoke clinging like mist about its base. From somewhere beyond, a flock of metal birds flew toward the Arch, though the sound they made reminded me more of roaring water than of birds.
Airplanes, I thought. I knew then that what I saw wasn't real but only some reflection of the past; knew, too, that not all the airplanes had been brought down by magic after all. I shut my eyes but the vision remained.
Matthew woofed quietly, a question in the sound. I sheathed my knife and reached for his back while the airplanes flew at the Arch one by one, disappearing as their wings made contact with its bright surface.
“What's wrong?” Allie asked, and I knew neither she nor Matthew saw.
“Nothing,” I whispered. “Nothing real.” My heart pounded. The visions looked real enough. Matthew started forward again, and I followed, even as the scene shifted once more.
The Arch disappeared. I saw tall buildings, towers of glass and steel. From below, oaks stretched shadow branches toward the buildings. From above, hawks dropped stones that glowed with faerie light. Orange and white explosions lit the air. The buildings collapsed like a child's kindling towers.
My legs felt weak, as if they, too, might give way. I knew well enough I was seeing the War. I stumbled as a shower of glass tinkled to my feet, even as I told myself this wasn't real. I saw—
The road—a road of black stone—shuddering to life, shaking cars into ruins like a dog might shake off water.
Allie's grip on my hand tightened. Warmth flowed toward the faded knife scars on my palm. No, not warmth—gentler cold. I focused on that cold. I focused on the feel of Matthew's fur beneath my other hand. Slowly, the visions faded. I saw a gray outline beside me and realized it was a wolf, ears cocked forward, sniffing the air. I kept walking, and color bled through the brightness: green leaves, blue sky. All at once the white light was gone. I saw clearly the gray wolf beneath my hand. I looked back and saw Allie step through a wall of white light, not releasing my other hand as she did. The wall of light stretched to the sky, as tall as the buildings in my vision. The stones must have created it when they exploded. Had the faerie folk used stones and light like that to make our soldiers lose their way during the War?
Tallow's yellow tail lashed to and fro from my shoulders. Matthew's ears perked back. As I drew my fingers from his fur he turned to look at me, blinking. Matthew hadn't been able to see, either, I realized. He'd led us through by smell, not sight. I reached hesitantly toward him, but then Tallow hissed and I drew back. Matthew backed away, too, head lowered, ears
flattening, a low growl rising in his throat. Allie glanced at him and silently moved to my side. The sun brightened. Silver light flowed over Matthew's gray fur. I waited for the boy to emerge from the wolf, for someone I could thank with human words. The light receded, but the wolf remained. He pawed the ground and whined.
“He's hurt!” Allie cried, even as I saw the blood on his hind leg. The gash had barely clotted, as if wild dogs had attacked us only moments before. Allie released my hand and darted forward.
“Wait!” I called, but she knelt and put hands to the wound.
The wolf whined again, with fear or with pain, but Allie's hands remained steady. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, but”— she shook her head—“healing first. Questions later.”
Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on the wound. Light flowed from her hands over his leg. The wolf stretched his head around toward Allie, panting a little, his teeth so close—but he didn't hurt her.
I remembered how Matthew had scratched the air, threatening to kill, while Caleb had healed him. Beneath his easy smile, Matthew was as capable of anger as I was. He just controlled it better.
Allie's light faded. Old blood flaked away from an old wound. Allie leaned back on her heels, brown eyes thoughtful. “I didn't know you were a shifter, Matthew.”
The wolf put weight on his leg, gingerly at first, then more steadily. He turned and nudged Allie's hands. She laughed. “You have a wet nose!”
He lifted his head, turning his gaze back to me. We regarded each other in silence. Finally I stepped forward, crouching in front of him. “Thank you,” I whispered, wondering whether the words had any meaning to a wolf.
He nuzzled my chest with his nose. Tallow hissed and leaped from my shoulders. I ignored her and moved my hands to rest on Matthew's back. So soft, I thought. How could wild magic feel so soft?
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