by Isobel Bird
She couldn’t decide. Perhaps one of them was the right path, but maybe they were both wrong. Maybe no matter which one she chose she would end up wandering around in the woods, lost, until she ran into someone or accidentally stumbled back onto the main road. It was probably best just to retrace her steps and start all over again, although that would mean losing a lot of time.
She sighed. Why did there have to be so many paths? It was as if someone had deliberately wanted to confuse people who came into the woods. Plus, she realized that the hedgehog head was getting a little stuffy. Maybe she should take it off. After all, no one was around to see it anyway.
She started to lift the head from her shoulders when she heard a commotion in the woods. Someone was coming toward her down one of the paths. Whoever it was seemed to be rushing. Distracted, Annie left her head on and peered through the eyeholes to see who was coming.
It was a fox—not a real fox, but someone dressed as a fox. At first she thought it was the man she’d seen earlier at the opening circle. But as the figure came closer she saw that it was a different fox. This one was much more realistic than the other one had been. His mask seemed to be covered with real fur, and his tail was bushier. He seemed to be agitated about something and was looking around anxiously.
“There you are,” he said as he rushed up to Annie, his whiskers quivering. He was panting, as if he’d been running for some time. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Me?” Annie said. “Why? Do I know you?”
“There’s no time for games,” the fox said. “It’s growing late.”
He stuck one of his paws into the pocket of his trousers and pulled something out. It looked like a letter.
“Here,” he said, pressing it into Annie’s hands. “Take it to the Oak King.”
Annie looked at the letter, confused. “But what is it?” she asked.
“No time,” the fox replied. “Take it to the Oak King. The hour is coming quickly.”
“Time for what?” said Annie. “And who is the Oak King?”
“I knew they were foolish to trust this to a hedgehog,” the fox said testily. “Silly creatures, all of you. Who is the Oak King? I don’t have time for this, and neither do you. Now, go!”
He shooed Annie away with his paws, urging her down the second path. She danced away from him, the letter held tightly in her hand.
“But where is he?” she asked.
“That’s for you to find out,” the fox answered. “But hurry! Time is running out.”
He turned and scampered back down the path he had come on, leaving Annie standing in the woods holding a piece of paper that looked a little worse for wear from having been in the fox’s pocket. She stared at it stupidly. What was she supposed to do with it? He had told her to find the Oak King. But who was the Oak King, and where was she supposed to look for him? None of it made any sense.
She turned the letter over. The front was sealed shut with a large blob of green wax. In the center of the wax was an impression of what looked like holly leaves and berries. Annie was tempted to break the seal and read the contents of the letter. Maybe it would give her some clue as to what was going on. She ran her finger under the edge of the paper, preparing to open it, but something made her stop.
Maybe this is all part of the ritual, she thought. After all, the woman at the opening ceremony had told them to expect the unexpected. Maybe the Oak King was one of those surprises. The fox was likely a member of one of the participating covens, after all, and they had singled her out to take part in the festivities.
That put a new spin on things. It made her excited. She’d been chosen to play a role in part of the Midsummer celebration. And apparently it was an important part. The fox had said that she needed to find the Oak King right away because something was going to happen soon. She wondered what it was. Even more, she wondered where she would find this Oak King, whoever he was.
The fox had pointed her down the path she was on, so she decided she might as well keep walking on it. Probably the person playing the Oak King was waiting for her somewhere in the forest. She kept going, looking around for signs of someone who might provide the next clue.
She didn’t see anyone for quite some time. Then, as she was giving up hope, she found herself approaching an area where several large, open tents had been set up alongside the path. There were people going in and out of them.
“Excuse me,” Annie said to a woman who had just stepped out of one of the tents. “Do you know where the Oak King is? I have a letter for him.”
“So the messenger has been chosen,” the woman said, smiling. “And a very interesting messenger indeed.”
“So you know how I can find him?” Annie asked.
The woman nodded. “I can’t tell you where he is,” she said. “That would make your task too easy. But I can tell you this, he’s not called the Oak King for nothing.”
The woman disappeared back into the tent. Annie stood outside it for a moment, thinking about what she’d said. Why was the Oak King’s name a clue? She had no idea. Why wouldn’t anyone just come out and tell her where to go and what to do? Figuring out all of these puzzles was getting tiring. She decided to sit for a moment and think things through. Finding a large tree, she plopped down.
“Ow,” she cried.
She’d sat on something hard. Reaching under herself, she pulled out an acorn and tossed it away. It landed a few feet from the tree, and she glared at it angrily. She’d been so excited over being chosen for one of the Midsummer games. Now she just felt frustrated.
She tried to force her mind to work. But for some reason her attention kept coming back to the acorn. Why? Then it hit her. Acorns. Oak trees.
“Of course!” she exclaimed. The Oak King would probably be found near the trees he was named for. She stood up, her enthusiasm renewed. Where would she find a lot of oak trees? In the woods, of course. But there were acres and acres of woods all around her. She didn’t have time to search them all.
Some people were coming toward her on the path. They, too, were dressed in costumes, one of the men as Robin Hood and one of the women as Maid Marian. Annie rushed up to them.
“Is there an oak grove around here?” she asked. “Or maybe a really big oak tree?”
Robin looked at Marian and smiled, as if they were exchanging a secret. Marian nodded. Then Robin pointed down the path. “Go until the path starts to run uphill,” he said. “Then leave it and walk to the left. You will see a yellow tent in the woods. Go there.”
“Thanks,” Annie said as she ran down the path.
She didn’t want to waste any more time, and she went as quickly as she could. The path continued on without going either up or down, and she wondered if maybe Robin Hood had sent her on yet another wild-goose chase. But finally she felt herself starting to breathe more heavily, and she realized that the path was indeed beginning to slant upward.
She looked to her left. She didn’t see any tent. Had she come far enough? Had she gone too far? She had no way of knowing, just as she had no way of knowing if Robin had told her the truth. But she also didn’t have much choice, so, leaving the path, she began to wander through the trees.
After walking for a couple of minutes, she still hadn’t seen any sign of a tent. She was hot and tired, and she was tempted to turn back. But then she reached the top of a little rise and stopped. She’d found the tent.
Sitting in the woods, pitched beneath a towering oak tree, was a large tent made of yellow silk. Ribbons of orange, red, and gold hung from the top and fluttered in the slight breeze. The colors reminded Annie of a tree in the fall, when all of its leaves turned from their summer colors to those of autumn. The tent’s flaps were shut, so she approached and stood outside it.
“Hello?” she called. “I’m looking for the Oak King.”
For a moment there was no answer. Then a voice said, “Enter.”
Annie parted the opening of the tent and peered inside. There she saw a man sitting in a la
rge wooden chair, almost like a throne. He was dressed in the same colors as the tent and its banners, his robe a deep yellow and the trim the various colors of fall leaves. He had a thick gray beard, although he didn’t appear to be particularly old. On his head was a garland of leaves and acorns.
“Are you the Oak King?” Annie asked shyly. Although she knew the man was just someone playing a part, he still filled her with a sense of awe. He seemed so regal, and the way his eyes looked into her face made her feel like she should bow or something.
“I am the Oak King,” the man replied. “Are you the messenger?”
Annie nodded. “I think so,” she said. “Someone gave me this and told me to bring it to you.”
She stepped forward and handed the Oak King the letter that was in her hand. The king took it and looked at it for a moment before slipping a finger beneath the folded paper and breaking the seal with a firm movement. He scanned the letter for a moment and then folded it again.
“So, we are to meet in his grove,” he said. “Very well. You will accompany me, of course.”
“Accompany you?” Annie repeated.
“To the meeting with my brother,” the Oak King responded. “That is why you were chosen. A very good joke on my brother’s part, choosing a hedgehog. He knows very well they sleep through winter. Send one of my own creatures to invite me. I’ll have to remember that when my turn comes. Perhaps I’ll send a winter hare. That would put him in a fine mood.”
“I don’t understand,” said Annie.
“I don’t suppose you would,” the king said. “Your kind do always become a little confused when the Midsummer magic is upon you. I daresay that’s another reason my brother picked you. No matter. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
Annie didn’t say anything. She was more confused than ever. She’d thought that her part in whatever was going on would end when she delivered the letter. Now, apparently, the Oak King expected her to go somewhere with him. She was sure that it was all part of the evening’s festivities, but she would have liked a little more explanation.
“What do I have to do?” she asked.
The king waved a hand at her. “All in good time,” he said. “It will be explained to you. For now, we must go. Night is coming, and I want to see what magic is taking place in the woods. By now Maeve should be about her business, and that is always something to look forward to.”
“Maeve?” Annie said, testing out the sound of the strange name on her lips.
“Indeed,” the Oak King replied. “The Faerie Queen herself. Have you not seen her?”
Annie shook her head.
“This is as much her night as it is my brother’s and mine,” said the king. “Those who meet her are lucky indeed—if they remember not to anger her.”
“And what if they do?” Annie asked.
The king smiled. “Just hope you don’t find out,” he said, pushing open the tent flaps and stepping outside.
CHAPTER 5
The Faerie Queen looked down at Kate. She was much taller than Rowan. In fact, she didn’t resemble Tyler’s mother at all. But hadn’t he said that his mother was playing the role of the queen? Or had she just assumed that? Suddenly, Kate couldn’t remember much of anything. She was transfixed by the queen’s face. Her dark eyes sparkled, and she wore a haughty expression that Kate thought was both proud and playful at the same time. She was dressed in gauzy robes of pink and purple that reminded Kate of the sky at twilight, and her black hair hung around her shoulders in waves. Slender wings, almost like those of a dragonfly, rose above her shoulders, and the fading sun shone through them like light through a stained-glass window.
“I am Maeve,” the queen said. Once again her honeyed voice filled the air, reminding Kate of bees and flowers and long days spent doing nothing at all.
Maeve, Kate thought. It was an odd name, yet beautiful, too, much like the queen herself.
Kate thought about telling the queen that she was the Princess Goatcheese, but something told her that joking was not something Maeve would appreciate. “I’m Kate,” she replied instead.
But the queen didn’t seem to care what Kate’s name was. She immediately asked her another question: “What are you doing in my woods?”
Kate was a little taken aback by Maeve’s brusque attitude, but she answered politely. “I was talking to my boyfriend,” she said.
The queen seemed more interested. “Boyfriend?” she said. “You mean your lover?”
Kate felt herself blushing. “Lover” seemed like such a strange thing for her to call Tyler. But was it so strange? Just a short time ago she had been thinking about telling him that she loved him. And wasn’t that what a lover was—someone you were in love with? It might be an old-fashioned word, but she had to admit that it was accurate.
“Yes,” she said. “I guess you could call him my lover.”
“And where is your lover now?” asked Maeve.
“I don’t know,” Kate said truthfully. “He ran off.” She didn’t tell Maeve that Tyler had run off because of her. She didn’t know why Tyler was so antsy about the queen when it clearly wasn’t even his mother underneath the makeup and the costume, but she didn’t want the woman playing the queen to think that she had somehow offended them.
“And what does he look like?” Maeve said, continuing her questioning.
“He’s dressed as a raven,” answered Kate. “With a mask of feathers.”
This piece of information seemed to interest the queen greatly. She looked hard at Kate with an expression that was unreadable. Whoever she is, she sure can act, Kate thought to herself.
“You say your lover was costumed as a raven?” asked Maeve.
Kate nodded. “He’s wearing all black. The mask is really great. You should see it.”
Maeve ignored her. “Which way did he go?” she asked sharply.
Kate pointed down the path. “That way,” she told the queen.
Maeve snapped her fingers. Suddenly two children—one a boy and one a girl—darted out from beneath her billowy skirts and stood beside her. Both had pale yellow hair the color of corn silk, and both had wings attached to the backs of the little blue tunics they were dressed in. They looked to Kate to be about eight or nine years old, and she wondered how they had managed to stay so quiet while tucked beneath the queen’s gown.
Maeve leaned down and whispered something to the children. Almost immediately they ran into the trees, and once more Kate heard the laughter she had heard before the Faerie Queen’s arrival. Was it coming from the children? Kate assumed that it was.
“Who were they?” she asked the queen. “They’re really cute.”
“My servants,” Maeve answered. “Do not worry about them. Let us talk more about your lover.”
“There’s not much to talk about, really,” said Kate. “I was just about to go look for him.”
“A good idea,” the queen said. “It is not wise to be apart from your lover on Midsummer Eve. He might find himself enchanted by another.”
Kate couldn’t help but think that Maeve looked at her strangely when she made the comment about Tyler’s perhaps becoming enchanted by someone else. Was it some kind of reference to her own cheating? That’s ridiculous, she told herself. This woman couldn’t possibly know about that.
“Will you be at the dance later tonight?” Kate said quickly, not wanting to dwell too long on the issue of infidelity.
“You know about my dance?” asked Maeve, sounding surprised.
“Sure,” said Kate. “Everybody does.”
Maeve frowned. “I do not like mortals knowing my secrets,” she said. “Did the raven tell you this?”
“No,” Kate said. “Not exactly. The people organizing the ritual did.”
The Faerie Queen looked at her intently. Kate looked away. She was feeling a little uncomfortable. Why was Maeve acting so put out about the dance? Of course Kate would know about it. Was this just part of the queen’s character? If so, what was Kate supposed to say
?
“I don’t think anyone meant to offend you,” she said carefully. “We’re all just very excited about Midsummer. Many people say it’s their favorite night of the year.”
Maeve gave her a little smile at hearing that. “As it is mine,” she said. “So, you mortals have come here to celebrate my night? That explains why you are dressed like one of my people.”
“Oh, yes,” Kate answered, glad that Maeve seemed to be a little bit happier and thinking that perhaps she’d found the right thing to say. “And I hope my costume doesn’t offend you. I thought it was appropriate for Midsummer, since this night is so special to you and all. In fact, we were hoping the faeries would come to the woods tonight. That’s why we called you.”
“Calling the faeries can be dangerous for mortals,” the queen said. “Some would say it is a foolish thing to do.”
“I don’t think you could be dangerous,” Kate said, getting into the game. “You’re so beautiful.”
“I can be very generous,” Maeve told her. “To those I like, anyway. Others are not so fortunate. Tell me, girl, what is it that you most desire?”
Kate thought about the question. Since this was a game, she tried to think of what a girl in a fairy tale would say if she met the queen of the faeries in the woods. She thought about all of her favorite stories. In most of them the girls wanted to be beautiful or rich. But the one she’d always liked the best when she was little was “East of the Sun, West of the Moon.” In that one a girl had to travel to the ends of the earth to find the prince she was in love with, after he’d been stolen away by evil trolls.
“True love,” she said, not realizing at first that she had spoken aloud. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it really was the one thing she wanted most. She wanted to find Tyler, and she wanted him to know that he was the one she loved.