In Deep Dark Wood

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  The whole family had noticed Mia’s behaviour and they were beginning to get very worried.

  ‘There’s definitely something wrong with Mia,’ Granny Rose said as she rolled out pastry for an apple tart on the kitchen table.

  ‘Rory, do you think Mia’s being bullied at school or something like that?’ asked Mum, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

  He didn’t think so. Mia would tell him something like that, he was sure.

  But Mum and Granny were right. Something was wrong with his sister. She seemed tense and nervous, as if she was scared of something or had a big secret to keep.

  ‘It’s that Bella Blackwell, next door. She has something to do with it, I’ll be bound,’ Granny said, shaking her head.

  ‘The two of you have always been so close, Rory. Will you have a word with her?’ begged Mum.

  ‘I’ll try and talk to her,’ he promised.

  Jackie raced in front of them snuffling at the leaves, as Rory and Mia walked through Glenkilty Wood. Rory was glad that he’s managed to persuade his sister to put on her new yellow padded jacket and join him, for the woods behind their house had always been a favourite place of theirs. Oak, ash and chestnut trees formed a natural tunnel of greenery, and as they walked, the sunlight flickered and danced through the leaves. Only Jackie’s panting and the crackle of broken twigs disturbed the silence. Druids, hermits, bandits and outlaws were all supposed to have found shelter within Glenkilty’s ancient wood many centuries ago.

  ‘I want to see down by the roadworks,’ said Mia, startling Rory from his daydream.

  At the edge of the wood they both stopped, horrified by the decimated area where huge trees had been removed to make room for road widening. Cars and trucks would soon replace green leaves and tree trunks.

  ‘It has been destroyed,’ said Rory, sadly.

  Mia searched among the enormous tree trunks cut close to the ground. Bending down low she scrabbled among the scattered sawdust and timber until she found what she wanted. There it was, a large circle of rounded stones placed near to each other, almost covered by bracken and ferns.

  ‘That’s funny,’ said Rory, ‘I never noticed them before.’

  Rory had put two chocolate bars in his pocket. Fresh air and exercise always made him hungry. Deep in the woods there was a clearing where wooden picnic tables had been set up for the summer visitors. Rory sat down on one of the benches and passed Mia some chocolate.

  She nibbled it slowly, like a small rabbit, leaving teeth marks in the bar. A fat wood pigeon strutted by, pecking at the ground.

  ‘I bet she sent him to spy on me,’ Mia muttered to herself, shooing the bird away.

  ‘Is everything all right, Mia?’ Rory asked softly.

  He could see a flicker of indecision cross her face.

  ‘I don’t know what to do, Rory, I’m scared and …’ His sister looked around as if checking her surroundings. ‘Do you believe in magic, Rory?’

  Surprised by her question, he began to laugh, ignoring her dismay.

  ‘You mean like Dad!’ he jeered. ‘No way! It’s just tricks and sleight of hand and practice, that’s all magic is.’

  ‘No, I mean proper magic,’ she insisted.

  ‘Hocus pocus! I don’t believe any of that kind of stuff,’ he said firmly. ‘You know that! There’s always a logical reason for things. An explanation.’

  Mia smiled nervously. ‘What about Bella? You saw her too, Rory. Bella can do magic! You know she can!’

  ‘The Bird Woman! Is that what’s upset you?’

  ‘She’s not a Bird Woman!’ Mia shouted angrily at him. ‘She’s a Dragon Woman, a Dragon Keeper!’

  ‘A Dragon Woman!’ he burst out laughing. ‘I don’t believe it, Mia! Where on earth did you get such a crazy idea from? Dragons! They don’t exist! They’re just a myth, part of old legends!’

  ‘They do exist!’ she screamed at him. ‘I’ve seen them!’

  ‘You thought you saw them, imagined you saw them!’ he insisted. Perhaps that old witch or whatever she is conjured them up, or hypnotised you. Be sensible, Mia, there’s no such thing as dragons, not really!’

  ‘You play with dragons, I’ve seen you, Rory.’

  ‘That’s on the computer. They’re just games. Made-up, animated, computer-generated images of dragons and monsters, whatever. They’re not real, it’s just for fun!’

  ‘But someone must have seen them once. How else would they know how to draw them?’

  ‘They imagined them,’ he retorted firmly.

  ‘The other day I was looking for Bella, Rory, and I went into the glasshouse. Remember when Mr Hackett had it and it was full of all his plants? Do you know what Bella has hidden there? Dragons, small baby dragons. Dragonlings. I saw them. I swear! She found them in that circle of stones at the edge of the woods. She says that they’re the last surviving dragons in the world. They’re so small they look almost like big lizards. Bella says that she wants me to help her, to become her apprentice. She says she’s too old, that she wants to teach me all she knows about them and show me what to do before her time runs out!’ Mia, pale and breathless, let the words come tumbling out, fast and furious, her voice shaking.

  ‘They’re dragons, baby dragons, I saw them, Rory, honest I did! I touched one, felt his skin, and ran my fingers along his backbone. I saw his eyes. It was a real dragon, Rory, I’m not imagining it, honest I’m not!’

  Rory didn’t know what to think. How could Mia actually believe that their crazy neighbour had found dragons here in Glenkilty Wood? It was bad enough that the old woman was obviously bonkers, but now she was putting her strange ideas into Mia’s head too.

  ‘It’s not true, Mia! I don’t care what that old woman told you, or what you think you saw, none of it is true. Don’t believe it, any of it!’ he shouted angrily at her.

  ‘The thing is …’ said Mia softly, ‘I do!’

  In the distance, Jackie suddenly whined, then barked.

  ‘She must be stuck. I’ll go get her!’ Rory said.

  Mia stayed sitting on the log, a small, scared figure.

  Jackie was caught in a small patch of briars, which she had run into in her haste to catch something or other, probably a squirrel or a rabbit. Untangling the squirming dog took Rory a few minutes, and by the time he walked the few yards back, Mia was gone. He saw the yellow flash of her jacket way ahead of him on the path. He called and called her, but she ignored him and kept walking on.

  Mia didn’t know what to do. Talking to Rory hadn’t helped at all. Usually her brother was so understanding. They’d always helped each other and stood up for each other no matter what, but now they seemed so far apart. He didn’t believe her and she wasn’t prepared to listen to him.

  She had never felt so alone and unsure of herself. All her life she had been reading books and listening to stories, stories about princes and princesses and giants and dwarves, witches and wizards and all kinds of incredible happenings – children who followed a piper and were never seen again, a king who turned everything he touched into gold, a mermaid who sold her beautiful voice for a pair of human legs, why, even her mother and grandmother had told her about the banshee that cried the night before anyone in their family died, and of the little man who, if you managed to catch him, would share his crock of gold with you at the end of the rainbow. Her head and heart were full of such stories, they filled her brain and she dreamed and imagined them in the long hours of night. Were they all nothing but lies, based on nothing more real than imagination? Surely strange things could and did happen in the world?

  She was tired of being scared and worrying about Bella. The dragons meant her no harm. She had not just imagined them, or made them up! They were real.

  Walking back home she felt more light-hearted, clear-headed. She stopped outside the witch’s house, staring up at the windows, almost unafraid. She was just turning up the driveway to her own house when Dad pulled up in the car. He stopped and parked and reached into the back seat
for his briefcase.

  ‘Everything okay, Mia?’ he asked, hugging her. ‘Were you in next door?’

  She looked at him, standing there beside her. He was tall and sandy-haired, balding in the front, wearing a navy suit, a white shirt and a multicoloured, striped tie. He always seemed out of step with the world and what was going on around him, as if he lived in a world of his own that was more real to him than the actual world. It drove her mother mad and exasperated Rory.

  ‘Bella, the old woman next door keeps dragons, Dad,’ she blurted out. ‘There are eight of them!’

  Matthew Murphy looked across at The Elms, his eyes studying the shape and form of the old house before coming to rest on the windows.

  ‘Does she indeed! What colour are they?’

  Mia stood in disbelief. Her father hadn’t shouted or roared at her, or even argued about the existence of dragons.

  ‘There are two black ones and a gold one, and four green ones and a blue one.’

  ‘How interesting!’ nodded her father.

  ‘Oh Daddy, I love you!’ Mia smiled and gave him a big hug.

  Matthew Murphy was left standing there, wondering what it was he had said or done that pleased his daughter so much.

  The Apprentice

  ‘So you came back, child. You returned to see Bella and the dragons.’ The old woman smiled as she opened the front door to Mia.

  Mia stepped across the threshold, realising that she was taking far more than just one simple step by coming back to visit The Elms. By doing so, she was accepting all the old dragon keeper had told her and showing a willingness to listen and learn.

  The hall was chilly and she shivered, hoping that she had made the right choice.

  ‘I came to help you,’ she said simply.

  ‘Welcome, Mia!’ said the old woman, holding her close. ’Come, child, there is much to be done. I was just bringing fresh water and bedding for them. You can give me a hand.’

  Mia carried two enormous jugs of water into the glasshouse, filled the stone bowls placed on the ground and then helped Bella to carry in bales of straw from the back garden.

  A swell of chattering and high-pitched calling greeted her as she brushed the fouled straw into a heap in the corner, then shovelled it into black bin bags. Yuck! Dragons could be very smelly creatures. Opening a fresh bale, she spread the clean straw out on the ground, watching as the animals tossed about in it and moved it into hidden corners.

  ‘Nothing like a nice fresh bed,’ she said aloud, wondering if the dragons could understand her. Two of them jumped down, landing close beside her, sniffing curiously.

  ‘They have a very well-developed sense of smell,’ stated Bella. ‘They’re trying to remember your scent. That is one of the ways a dragon can tell the difference between a friend and an enemy.’

  Mia hoped that the creatures considered her a friend, because looking at their sharp claws and pointed teeth and their lashing tails, she certainly would not like to be an enemy.

  As they worked, Bella pointed out each dragon, calling them by name and telling her about them.

  ‘Arznel, he’s the strongest and the bravest, mark my words. That’s a female, Rana, she’s as loyal and good-hearted as they come. A willing dragon is always easy to teach.’

  Mia spent the whole afternoon working, while at the same time trying to listen and take in all the old woman was telling her. When the late afternoon sun flooded into the glasshouse, it became almost unbearably warm. Raising her arm to wipe the sweat off her forehead, Mia knocked against an enormous potted plant which she tried in vain to steady. From far above came a screaming, whirring sound, as one of the dragons fell with a thud onto the ground in front of her, giving a mew of pain.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ she said, rushing forward.

  The dragon seemed smaller than all the others, his muscles less developed. His skin was bluish-green. He lay cowering fearfully and trembling with shock. Mia bent to help him.

  ‘What have you done, Trig?’ sighed Bella, exasperated. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve fallen again!’

  The small, almost-blue dragon seemed to hang his head in shame at the old woman’s words.

  ‘He’s hurt,’ said Mia, defending the poor creature. ‘It was all my fault!’

  Bella came over beside her, crouching down to inspect the damage, tut-tutting and shaking her head.

  ‘It could be a wing. I need to examine him properly, and he seems to have to damaged a tailbone too. Here, help me move him into the kitchen where I can get a better look at him!’

  Mia bent down, unsure of how to lift an injured dragon, and wondering if Trig would bite. The dragon looked up at her steadily, making no objection as she pulled him ever so gently towards her, trying not to touch the small cut she could see on his side.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Bella, leading her out to the kitchen while at the same time patting the dragon’s head. ‘There, there, Trig, Mia and I will heal you.’

  The old woman spread a thick towel on the kitchen table and gestured to Mia to ease Trig down gently onto it.

  Mia watched as Bella ran her hands all over the blue-green skin of the dragon, stretching his good wing wide open as the creature lay still, mewing weakly every now and then. Then she touched the injured wing, showing Mia the spot where his skin lay open, a mottled purple-red bruise staining the skin around it.

  ‘Hold him still, child, while I see what’s what. A dragon with an injured wing is not much use for anything.’

  As if understanding her, tears welled up in the dragon’s green eyes.

  ‘Let me see if I can close this wound and ease the damage.’

  The old woman produced two phials of foul-smelling liquid. The first, which was a nasty, dirty brown colour, seemed to be almost like glue and it stuck the edges of the wound together; the other she spread over the general bruising. Then she stroked his tail with her fingers, running them along the bone.

  ‘It’s a simple break and should heal of its own accord. Good dragon, Trig, good dragon! Now you must get some rest!’

  Mia watched as Bella sat down in her old rocking chair.

  ‘Pass me the dragon, Mia. I will mind him for tonight as he’s not well enough to rejoin the rest of them.’

  The dragon seemed drowsy and did not object as Mia lowered him onto the old woman’s lap.

  ‘There, Mia, child! We’ll be fine, now. You run along home or that old grandmother of yours will be giving out about me again!’

  Mia was reluctant to go. She watched as the old woman closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, the chair gently rocking Bella and the dragon backwards and forwards in a slow, gentle rhythm.

  Trig

  Mia went through the gap in the hedge almost every day, checking on the progress of the injured dragon. She still blamed herself for Trig’s accident.

  ‘He’s not like the others,’ said Bella. ‘He’s not as big or quick or bright. I suppose he’s the weakling of the bunch. There always seems to be one, no matter how hard you try to care for them and teach them.’

  The old woman herself looked tired. Her face at times had a greyish pallor, and the veins across her brow became a livid purple colour. She looked old and frail, and Mia did her best to help as much as she could, running to the village for groceries, cleaning up the house and caring for the young dragons. She wondered why Bella didn’t just use her powers to conjure up some helpers and make things a lot easier for herself.

  ‘I am old, child, and will not waste my magic powers on silly tricks and showing off,’ said Bella, reading her mind.

  The best thing about going next door was having time to be with the dragons, especially Trig. He was her favourite now. The small, blue-green dragon moved around slowly and stiffly, obviously still in pain, and would look up from where he was sitting, hoping that she would stop to pat him and talk to him, cocking his head to one side, listening to her.

  ‘He won’t eat a thing!’ complained Bella. ‘He’s gone right off his food.’


  Mia didn’t blame him – the pinkish raw meat that Bella cut into thin strips and served to the dragons looked and smelled absolutely disgusting. She didn’t dare ask Bella what kind of meat it was.

  ‘Blues are always finicky eaters. Give me greens or blacks any day. I don’t know what’s to become of him, he’s not getting any stronger. A sick dragon is a sorrowful thing to behold, Mia, that is why I worry about this one so much.’

  Trig did look miserable. He was certainly not as big or strong or clever as the other dragons, but Mia knew he was bright enough to follow Bella’s every move, and to notice everything she herself did when she called to the house.

  ‘He needs so much attention and care,’ sighed the old woman,’ and I’m old and tired. It’s just too much when all the others need looking after too. It’s not fair on them.’

  Mia didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Blues were always difficult to raise, I suppose that’s why they were considered precious and rare if they survived.’

  ‘He will survive, Mrs Blackwell. Trig will survive! Won’t he?’

  Bella turned her head away, refusing to answer. Mia was upset and wondered if the small, blue dragon had understood everything they’d said. Judging by the reproachful look in his shimmering, emerald-coloured eyes, she guessed he had.

  ‘That wing of his is stiff, Mia. I’m not sure if he’ll ever be able to fly properly and gain the height a dragon needs, and his tail, I suspect, will always be slightly misshapen, which may cause balance problems. There is nothing more I can do. You know I have to make preparations for my return to Blackwell Castle and my dragon school.’

  ‘What would happen to a dragon that is weak and sick, and cannot fend for itself?’ asked Mia.

  ‘Sometimes dragons attack their own kind and kill those they consider weak or sick, though often they will just let them be and watch as nature takes its course,’ said the old woman matter-of-factly.