by Holly Webb
“You’d better take her out. Get away from here. It’s only me that they’re after. Don’t let them catch you too.”
“But Emily’s the one bringing them,” Robin muttered. “She’ll let them into the house. Mum said she was going to make sure Emily’s dreams were guarded. I don’t understand.”
Emily flinched and wriggled against his shoulder, trying to pull herself out of the dream. She was in amongst the trees now, and her bedroom was strangely laid over them, like a drawing on thin paper. She could hear the hounds baying, and she knew, she knew how to stop them, if she could only wake up enough.
The first hound was racing towards her, his white paws muddied and his ears flying as he sped between the trees. She could see his teeth glinting, and the redness of his tongue.
She had to wake up!
Sasha was crouching next to her now, with her arms round Emily’s shoulders. “I can see the hounds. They’re coming for us!”
Emily flung herself away from Robin and Sasha, reaching out towards the bed, her fingers clutching frantically at the covers. “Emily, stop them!” Robin howled.
“She’s half awake,” she heard Sasha say as she stretched out her fingers more desperately. “What’s she doing? Oh, the bed! Emily told me, your mother, Lady Eva, she laid a spell on the bed. Drag her across to it!”
Emily felt Robin and Sasha grab her, and then all at once she was wrapped in the cool freshness of the spell, as if her mother was stroking her hair. The magic smelled of her mother, of citrus and spices, and it wrapped lovingly around Emily. She heard Robin gasp in relief, and felt Sasha’s panicked fingers loosen from round her arm.
“They’ve lost the scent…” the water-fairy whispered. “Look!”
A strange, furious howling echoed in Emily’s ears. Sniffing, and scuffling paws, and the angry shouting of the men, as they argued over the sudden disappearance of the scent.
Then the howling of the hounds died away, and Emily was awake again, leaning back against her bed.
“Are they gone?” she whispered hoarsely, looking back at Robin and Sasha, who were kneeling beside her.
“Your mother’s spell turned them away,” Sasha told her. The frightened shadows on her face seemed to have died away, and she looked younger. Her hair was coiling around her shoulders as though water was running through it, and her eyes were bright.
“They won’t come back?”
Sasha shook her head. “The spell was very strong. It destroyed the scent. They could only pick it up again if I go back.”
“Then you won’t,” Emily said flatly. “You’ll stay. I’ll explain to Mum and Dad,” she added quickly to Robin, who looked as though he was about to argue. “It’s like I said before, she has to! I’m not letting her go back and be eaten!”
Robin shook his head. “I know. We can’t send her back.”
“Do you need a river?” Emily asked worriedly. “I mean, there is one, not far from here, but there are people fishing, and walking dogs all the time. It might be difficult to hide in.”
Sasha frowned. “I can sense water very close by. Still water, but clean.”
Robin snorted with laughter. “That’s the pond! You can’t live in the pond!”
“I could…” Sasha smiled at him and stretched out her arms. Her pale skin seemed to thin, so that she was almost transparent and rippling like water. And then she was simply gone.
Emily stared down at the drops of water glittering on the boards of her bedroom floor, and laughed. “She’s gone!”
“Only back into the mirror.” Robin pointed to the tiny, jewelled circle, which had been kicked almost under the bed. “So you can take her downstairs. I can’t believe you’re actually going to put a water-sprite in the pond. Good luck explaining that to Mum and Dad.” He peered down into the glass. “What about the goldfish?”
Sasha gazed up at him. “I like fish…” she told him sweetly, her greenish eyes glinting in the surface of the glass.
“That’s what I’m worried about!”
“She won’t eat the fish!” Emily said, rolling her eyes at him. She stood up slowly, the weariness of the dream-spell still lingering a little. But then she smiled to herself. Dad and Robin had been right – somehow, somewhere inside her, was just a little spark of magic. Enough to force herself into another world, and rescue a friend. Emily might not be a fairy like the rest of her family, but she almost didn’t mind.
She cupped the mirror gently in her fingers, and went to the door, walking slowly, still a little dreamily, through the house and out into the sunlit garden.
Then, by the smooth, dark water of the pond, she crouched down in the grass, her eyes caught by the gentle waving of the water-weed, clinging to the rocks.
“Can you really live here?” she whispered to Sasha, stroking the edge of the mirror.
But already the water-sprite was misting eagerly out of the glass, her fingers stretching towards the water. It seemed to know she was there, the surface breaking into a hundred sparkling circles as she dabbled in her fingertips.
“Ah…” she breathed, dipping one hand in deeper, and then all of a sudden she was gone. Emily couldn’t remember afterwards what she had seen in that split second when Sasha dived – a brightly-feathered waterbird, or an otter, its pelt glittering with water droplets. Or just a girl, her silver dress patterned with a hundred different gleaming leaves.
Thank you, the plants around the water rustled and whispered, and Emily leaned over watching the glittering ripples. I’ll see you soon.
Emily trailed her fingers across the surface of the water, and smiled, feeling the magic all around her.
Holly has always loved animals. As a child, she had two dogs, a cat, and at one point, nine gerbils (an accident). Holly’s other love is books. Holly now lives in Reading with her husband, three sons and a very spoilt cat.
Scholastic Children’s Books
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First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2013
This electronic edition published by Scholastic Ltd, 2014
Text copyright © Holly Webb, 2013
The right of Holly Webb to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her.
Cover illustration © Rosie Wheeldon, 2013
eISBN 978 1407 14664 5
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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