Carly explained what had happened and about the creature she had seen, and Lewis calmed down. She asked what he’d found when he reached the circle of orange light.
It was the opening to a tunnel, he explained, and he had gone in to look around. He said it smelled as if it had been a rabbit burrow once, but he didn’t think rabbits lived there now. There had been a large fire burning in the main room that was the source of the orange light and the smoke. There were rocks scattered around in there too, and something else that had surprised him most of all.
“Feathers,” he said. “All over the place.”
When they were almost back to the cave, they passed the white cradle and Carly stopped to check the red hat again. There was a new note inside. Carly felt her heart beating faster as she read what it said:
The Moon Child Is In Danger
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE CRANK OF CRASSIFOLIA
“VERY GRACEFUL, BITTERS. I didn’t know dance tryouts were today.”
Carly turned and saw Hetta and several of her friends standing right behind her. All of them were laughing except Hetta.
“Must be some kind of modern dance,” said Hetta. She lifted a foot and moved it around in the air as Carly had been doing. “Is this right?” she asked sarcastically.
Carly’s class was outside for recess and she normally would have hidden somewhere and gone to sleep. But the day was breezy and Carly had decided to practice finding tisks. So far, she hadn’t had any success.
“Or maybe you’re sleepwalking,” said Hetta when Carly didn’t answer. “But you’re not really walking, are you? I guess you just got stuck trying to take that first step.”
Carly was tempted to use the whistle roots that she now wore on a string around her neck, hidden beneath her shirt. The thought of Hetta stuffing her ears with dirt as the creature had done a couple of nights before made her smile.
Hetta looked at her in disgust. “Don’t you even know when you’re being made fun of, Bitters?” She pushed Carly hard, causing her to fall to the ground. Then she stepped over her and walked away. Her friends did the same.
Carly slowly got to her feet, her smile now gone.
She had bigger things to worry about than Hetta.
She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the last message in the red hat: The Moon Child is in danger. Could it possibly mean her? Was it calling her the Moon Child because she was awake every night? It reminded her of what her mother used to call her—night child. But how would the hat even know who she was? She wasn’t anybody special. And yet, she couldn’t escape feeling that the message had been a warning—not to the rats, but to her.
She hadn’t seen Lewis since their visit to the smoking whistle root tree. It had rained hard all day Wednesday and all through that night. She hadn’t been able to go to the cave, and Lewis hadn’t come to her rooftop.
She had sat at her window and waited for the rain to let up, but it never did. Once or twice she thought she saw a glowing white grin off in the woods, but she couldn’t be sure. Did the whispering creature know where she lived?
The rain hadn’t stopped until this morning, which was Thursday.
During her study period at school, she waited again at the table in the library, but Green didn’t show up. Searching the dark aisle, she tried to find the book herself. She walked back and forth, running her finger over all the books she could reach.
A sudden clicking noise made Carly jump. She turned around and saw the librarian at the end of the aisle, flipping a light switch up and down.
None of the overhead lights came on.
“Someone keeps stealing the bulbs,” said the librarian, looking up at the empty light sockets. “You wouldn’t know who’s doing it, would you, dear?”
“No, ma’am,” said Carly.
“They only steal them from this aisle. A bit odd, don’t you think? I’d been wondering why they don’t steal them from the other aisles as well.”
Carly immediately thought of Green and wondered if he was taking them to make the book harder to find, but she didn’t say anything.
“And then my sister told me about a girl who likes to sleep during the day and stay up all night,” continued the librarian. “That must make it very hard to go to school, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Your sister, ma’am?”
“Yes, my sister. She works at the school too.”
As soon as she said it, Carly saw the resemblance. The librarian had the same square head and withered-looking ears as her teacher.
Carly sighed—it was another Ms. Hankel.
“Anyway,” said the second Ms. Hankel. “I thought to myself, I bet a girl like that would want to make a nice dark place where she could hide and sleep whenever she felt like it.”
“I didn’t take the light bulbs,” said Carly, since it was clear where this conversation was going.
“I didn’t say you did, dear,” answered Ms. Hankel, with the same unpleasant smile as her sister. “It’s just that I’ve been watching you. Is there something I can help you find?”
Just then, something slammed to the ground behind Carly. She turned and saw a book in the middle of the aisle behind her.
“What was that?” asked Ms. Hankel.
“Um . . . nothing,” said Carly. She bent down, picked up the book, and held it tightly to her chest. “I just dropped my book.”
“I didn’t see you holding a book,” said Ms. Hankel suspiciously.
“I had it behind my back. It’s so dark down here—it’s hard to see anything.” The bell rang ending the study period and Carly walked quickly around Ms. Hankel before running to her table so she could hide the book in her bag.
CARLY WANTED TO LOOK AT the book when she got back to her desk, but she felt as if she was under a spotlight with her floor lamp.
She fell asleep four times during the afternoon. Each time, Ms. Hankel blew her whistle to wake her up, though she now kept a safe distance when she did.
Carly went to bed as soon as she got home. She was worn out from trying to stay awake at school.
When she woke up, she went to the kitchen, found the bowl of buttered beans her aunt had left for her dinner, and sat down to eat with the book. She noticed immediately that it wasn’t the same book Green had shown her before. But he hadn’t even been in school today, so he couldn’t have been the one who dropped the new book behind her.
She unfolded them carefully and read.
And yet, Carly somehow knew the book was from him.
It was an old field guide to trees with a cracked black cover. She checked to see if there was an entry for whistle root trees but didn’t find one. She did, however, find more pieces of old, brownish paper.
She unfolded them carefully, and this is what she read:
* * *
The CRANK of CRASSIFOLIA
The Endroot eventually became a vast forest of beautiful trees that grew nowhere else. And the boy grew into a man and lived in the forest as its king. He didn’t have a castle, but that was of no concern to him. He loved to wander throughout his kingdom playing music for his people.
Inevitably, the five kings of the surrounding kingdoms decided they wanted the Endroot for themselves.
“He doesn’t have any soldiers or weapons,” said one king to the others. “We’ll kill the king of Endroot and divide his forest among us.”
The amber-eyed woman, whom the king of Endroot had saved as a boy, learned of their plan and went to him and took him to a place in the forest where she said he would be safe. She said he should wait there until the danger had passed.
“Play your fiddle,” she told him. “They won’t be able to hear you out here.”
She then disguised herself as an old woman and found the kings, who were already marching through the forest. They hadn’t even brought their armies. “We’ll kill the king of Endroot with our own swords!” they had said to one another at a feast the night before. They had drunk great goblets of wine and toasted one another�
�s bravery.
When they saw the old woman walking toward them, they pushed her out of their way. They had been marching all morning and their armor was growing heavy and their mood had grown sour.
“I know who you seek,” said the old woman, after they had passed her by. “And I know how to find him.”
The kings stopped and turned and stared at the old woman. Though none of them would have admitted it, they didn’t really know where they were going. Their plan had been to march into the Endroot and kill its king. But none of them had stopped to think how they would find a king who wandered aimlessly in a vast forest and didn’t have a castle.
“You’ll find him by listening for his music,” said the old woman, as if reading their thoughts. She cupped her hand behind her ear. “I think I hear him deeper in the forest.”
The five kings listened and were surprised to hear the distant sound of a fiddle. It was very far away and they couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from.
“Follow me,” said the old woman, and began walking down an old path that went through what looked like some of the oldest trees in the forest.
The kings, not knowing what else to do, followed the old woman, and were pleased when they heard the sound of the fiddle growing louder.
After a long walk, the old woman finally stopped. “May I present the King of Endroot,” she said, and bowed deeply, gesturing toward a whistle root tree. The kings looked and saw a man with a reddish beard sitting at the base of the tree holding a fiddle. The music had stopped and the man looked very surprised.
“If you plan to kill him,” said the old woman, “at least let me give him a weapon so you can say you killed a great king instead of a poor musician.”
The five kings agreed and the old woman walked toward the tree.
“What are you doing?” asked the King of Endroot when she reached him, for he had recognized her despite her disguise. “Why have you betrayed me?”
“Trust me and do as I say,” she whispered, and placed his hands on top of an oddly shaped stick that stuck straight up out of the ground. It was tall and bent at the top like a walking cane.
The five kings laughed.
“Is he going to fight us with a stick?” they asked, laughing still more. They were cruel men and drew their swords and walked forward to kill him.
“Turn the crank,” whispered the disguised old woman urgently. “Do it quickly before they reach us.”
The King of Endroot did as she asked and tried to turn it. It wouldn’t move at first, but then to his surprise it did. He turned it round and round, even as the five kings raised their swords to strike him.
Suddenly the sound of a million bells filled the air. And the leaves of the whistle root trees began swinging back and forth even though there wasn’t any wind.
The kings were about to ask the old woman what was happening when their hair and beards abruptly began to bloom, and each king soon had a lovely mane of white flowers. Their toes began to grow, right through the tips of their boots, and dug into the ground like roots. They dropped their swords and felt their raised arms hardening into the branches they would soon become. Little green leaves sprouted at the tips of their fingers and the forest suddenly had five new trees where the kings had formerly stood.
The woman’s name was Crassifolia, and the oddly shaped stick became known as the Crank of Crassifolia. The King of Endroot turned it whenever there was danger, and the whistle root trees never failed to protect his kingdom during the long and peaceful years of his reign.
* * *
WHEN SHE HAD FINISHED READING, Carly folded the papers and placed them back in the book. Her mind was racing with thoughts of the Endroot and whistle root trees. Had she found a way to save the rats?
She quietly opened the kitchen door that led outside. She listened for whispers and looked for glowing grins in the dark, but didn’t hear or see either. She also didn’t see any owls. Still, she made sure she had her whistle roots before she closed the door and took off running through the woods with the book clasped in her arms.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” asked Lewis angrily when she reached the cave a short time later.
What is the matter with him? Carly wondered, but then she saw that he was holding his fiddle. Lewis was never patient when he wanted to play music, and he always wanted to play. Without the rules that kept him from playing by himself, he’d probably never stop.
“I was just coming to your rooftop,” he said. “And now it’s going to take forever to get back there.” He looked sadly at her toes, as if wishing they were smaller and better able to find tisks.
“But I’ve found something, Lewis,” said Carly, holding the book out to him and trying to catch her breath. “And I have to show Breeza Meezy.”
Lewis sighed and made a halfhearted gesture toward the tower. He had dismissed the warnings from the hat as nonsense, and Carly feared he would do the same to her plan. He seemed to still believe that the owls would start dancing again if he just kept playing music for them.
Carly hoped Breeza Meezy would see things differently.
As she walked through the village, she noticed that half the houses no longer had light in the windows. It was so sad how many rats had been taken by the owls or drowned by the rising creek. It was even sadder to think what would happen if she couldn’t save the rats who remained. This little magical world she had just discovered would disappear forever.
When she reached the tower, she bent down and knocked on it gently and then stood back to wait. Breeza Meezy appeared a few moments later.
“Good evening, my dear,” she said, gesturing for Carly to sit down in the wooden chair.
Carly bowed slightly and said good evening and sat down. “I’ve found another story,” she said. “It’s about the whistle root trees, like the story I told you before. May I read it to you?”
“Of course.”
When Carly had finished reading, she placed the papers back in the book and gently closed it. “I think we should try to find the Crank,” she said.
Breeza Meezy looked at her in confusion. “But it’s just a story—isn’t it, dear?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Carly. “But this is the only place in the world where whistle root trees grow. What if these woods used to be the Kingdom of Endroot? That would mean the Crank could still be here.”
Breeza Meezy looked out over the village toward the cave opening where the old whistle root tree stood.
“Even if it is here and we could find it,” she said, “what would happen if we turned it?”
“Maybe the owls would go back to dancing in the trees!” said Carly.
“Or be turned into trees!” said Breeza Meezy with alarm.
Carly was again surprised by how concerned Breeza Meezy was for the owls despite everything they had done to the rats.
“The creek never rose,” said Breeza Meezy abruptly, before Carly had a chance to say anything else. “It rained all day and night and the creek never rose. And it’s never risen before, at least as far back as I can remember. And on the night when the village flooded, there hadn’t been any rain for weeks.”
Carly thought back to that night. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? What had caused the creek to rise?
“It could rise again,” continued Breeza Meezy. “Without warning. And more rats could be lost. There’s nothing we could do to stop it. And the owls have taken so many of us already . . . our musicians are all but gone.”
Carly looked up and saw Lewis sitting on his roof, holding his fiddle and looking forlorn.
“I’ve decided to move the village,” said Breeza Meezy. “Somewhere away from the creek. Probably away from these woods altogether.”
“What?” said Carly, taken completely by surprise and getting to her feet. “But you can’t! Where would you go?”
“I’ve sent scouts to find a new cave,” said Breeza Meezy. “They’re flying through the woods as we speak.”
“But the owls will
get them!” said Carly, worried that more rats could be lost.
“They’re traveling together in a group of five,” explained Breeza Meezy. “Each rat is carrying a whistle root and they’ll blow them together if they’re attacked by owls. That should keep them safe.”
“But you can’t leave the woods!” said Carly, and heard how sorrowful her voice sounded. She knew she was being selfish, but how could she go back to the lonely nights she had known before meeting Lewis?
Breeza Meezy was quiet for a moment and then asked, “Have there been any more notes in the cradle?”
Carly took a breath and told her what the last two notes had said. Breeza Meezy seemed especially interested in the one that mentioned the Moon Child being in danger.
“Do you think it could mean me?” Carly asked suddenly.
Breeza Meezy stared at her thoughtfully. “Perhaps,” she said. “As far as I know, you are the first person to sit in that chair since the Moon King himself. And you are awake every night, clearly governed more by the moon than the sun. If there is a Moon Child in these woods, it seems likely that it’s you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
GRANNY PITCHER’S CABIN
THE NEXT DAY, CARLY set a trap in the library.
She was so tired that she knew she would fall asleep in class anyway, so she decided to spend her day on the bottom shelf of a bookcase.
It was a simple plan really.
She had gotten to school early and had snuck in to the library, making sure that Ms. Hankel didn’t see her. She had placed the book back in the middle of the dark aisle exactly where she had found it. She had then cleared the books off one of the bottom shelves nearby and had made enough room for herself to lie down. From there, she could still see the book, but no one looking down the aisle would be able to see her.
The Mysterious Woods of Whistle Root Page 4