Only someone who has spent hours in the woods on a cold night can appreciate what that fire meant to them. They clustered around it, drying out different parts of their clothes in turn.
The flames warmed and comforted, but they made such a small bright spot. When Janna turned to dry out her back, she could see the dark forest crowding close, leaning over the clearing as if reaching for them. Next to her, Alissa glanced up and instantly shrank back, so Janna glanced up too and then wished she hadn’t. Indistinct tree shapes swayed above them.
“Can someone tell a story?” the golden princess asked tremulously.
Several people murmured agreement, but nobody volunteered. Under normal circumstances, Janna would have jumped at the chance, but she was too busy shivering as she moved her left side toward the fire. There was no way she’d get to sleep that night. They hadn’t gone far enough and—
****
“Long ago,” Petten began, “our ancestors settled in Montaland from another world. Animals from the high home came to help them, and the new settlers wrote about them with great wonder.
“Blueflame birds sang, bringing joy so great it hurt. Deer with massive antlers raced through the woods whenever there was need of speed. Cream-colored horses shared their wisdom in human words. Even the smallest of all, the lizards, served as guides and occasionally gave away one of their brilliantly colored eggs.”
****
Quickly Janna swiveled about to face him.
Petten was using a very traditional beginning. Though she loved the old Montaland stories, they all tended to start the same, and she hadn’t been paying close attention. She’d heard a noise in the woods that sounded as if someone was creeping toward them. The noise had stopped but she still felt on edge.
As soon as Petten mentioned lizards, however, she forgot about scary noises and listened closely to the story.
****
“The settlers were happy in their new world. They had no desire to return to the old one. In fact, they were in danger of forgetting too much. Life in the old world had been hard, but important things had happened there that they needed to remember.
“So it was that a young woman went to sleep in the old world and woke in the new. Her name was Missie.”
****
“Missie!” exclaimed Janna. “I know this story. It’s one of my favorites.”
She was so gleeful that everyone around the fire smiled.
“Don’t interrupt,” her father said, but he was smiling too.
****
“Missie lived on a manor,” Petten continued. “Her father trained horses, and her mother worked in the garden and kitchen. As she got older, Missie helped her father in the stable and her mother in the garden, but her parents kept her out of the manor kitchen and away from the other servants. She didn’t know why at the time, but soon after she turned sixteen, both her parents died of an illness, and she was ordered to take her mother’s place in the kitchen.
“The kitchen servants were cruel, giving her more work than she could do and then punishing her for what she didn’t get done. Her life became miserable, but it got worse the day the manor lord’s son noticed her.
“In the dark of a night, as she was leaving the kitchen, he attacked. She managed to escape, but she was sick with the cough and fever that had killed her parents. Stumbling through the woods behind the manor, she went as far as she could before hiding under a bush. Her cough kept her awake for hours, but eventually she fell into a fitful sleep.
“When Missie woke, she could smell a difference before she opened her eyes. The air was fresher. She sat up, blinking in bewilderment. The bush she had slept under was gone. A slender tree with white bark had taken its place. A whole grove of the white-barked trees spread out around her, their long leaves waving in the slightest breeze.
“When a bright blue bird landed on a branch next to her and started to sing, Missie sprang to her feet. She’d never heard such a song. Her heart swelled with joy, more joy than she’d ever known, more joy than she could hold inside. She burst into tears, startling the bird. It flew away, but the sick young woman found it hard to quit crying.
“Then something moved past her on the forest floor. A gray lizard had darted to a nearby rock, where it perched and eyed her. The lizard left the rock, ran in a comically irregular circle around Missie, and then darted away a few feet, head turned invitingly. Without thinking, she took two steps toward it. Promptly, it scurried a few feet farther away and then perched again. The tiny eyes peered back at her, and her lips quivered into a partial smile.
“‘Why not?’ she said and followed the little gray body out of the grove of white-barked trees into an evergreen forest that went on and on until her steps slowed and she began feeling feverish.
“She had decided to lie down for another rest when the lizard dashed out of the trees into a large clearing. Big bodies were moving in the shadows around the clearing, and Missie drew back in alarm until she saw that the bodies belonged to horses. Intelligent heads lifted to inspect her, and alert ears pricked in her direction. She drew in a deep, satisfying breath of their strong horsey smell.
“Her father had taught her not only to ride horses but also to trust in the one who had made them. The smell of horses and the Maker—one had always reminded her of the other. Missie took a few steps into the clearing but then stopped. What should she do next? The lizard was no help. It had stretched out on a big sunny rock and closed its eyes.
“Suddenly, someone began whistling. Missie jumped. There was a gray stable across the clearing, so well camouflaged by tree shadows that she hadn’t noticed it until now. A man wearing overalls walked around the side of the stable. He had dark hair streaked with gray, and as soon as he saw Missie, he quit whistling and smiled at her as if he knew her.
“Missie smiled back. She couldn’t help it. Her past experiences told her to run from a man. Men were not to be trusted. She smiled at this man instead, and as he drew closer, her heart trembled, but not from fear.
“‘I’m glad to see you, Missie.”
“Something strange was going on, but then, this whole experience was strange.
“‘I…I—’ she stammered, then stopped. How did he know her name?
“Hesitantly, she took a step toward him and stumbled over a rock. The man reached to steady her, and she saw an old wound in his hand, as if something had been driven through it. Quickly, she checked his other hand. Yes, there was a wound in that hand too. Her face lit, and she fell on the ground before him, filled with a relief so great she thought she might faint. Now she would be safe. Now she would always be safe.
“The man lifted her up and seated her on the very rock that had made her stumble. Then he brought her a cold glass of water.
“‘This will make you feel better.”
“While she drank, Missie watched him over the rim of her glass. The man gazed around the clearing with evident pleasure, his eyes twinkling when they reached the sleeping lizard. He winked at Missie, and she laughed out loud, finding that she had finished her water and did indeed feel better.
“‘Now you’ll be wanting a ride,’ he said calmly as if it were the most natural thing in the world.”
****
Petten quit talking to put another log on the fire. Janna squirmed. He was taking too long.
“Petten, get on with the story.”
He grinned and moved in deliberate slow motion, adjusting the log. Janna sighed deeply. Finally, he took his place and continued the story.
Chapter 14
The Cottage
“The man walked over to a bay mare, pulling a halter out of one of the deep pockets in his overalls, a halter with long straps of leather attached on either side. He put the halter on the mare and tossed the ends of the straps across her neck. Then he spoke in a low voice and the mare followed him to Missie.
“‘Up you go,’ he said and cupped his hands.
“Automatically, Missie put her knee in his hands and let him lift
her onto the mare’s warm back. She picked up the reins, but her heart lurched. How could she leave? She never wanted to leave. In her distress, she started to slide off the horse, but the man shook his head.
“‘Missie, I have brought you to my mountain world because the people here are beginning to forget what I did for them in your world. I want you to remind them.’
“She heard his words with dread. The wave of fever had gone for now, but it would return. It always did. She couldn’t do anything important. She couldn’t do anything at all.
“‘I…I’m not sure…’
“He put his hands over hers and smiled.
“‘Don’t be afraid. I am the Healer.’
“When he drew back, the mare left at a canter.
“‘No,’ Missie whispered, wanting to pull back on the reins, but the horse snorted at her and she didn’t.
“Instead, she watched the man over her shoulder until trees blocked her view. Then she faced forward again, took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes. She wouldn’t think about the job he had given her. She’d think about being in another world.
“What were the differences between this world and her old one? Wait a minute. Wasn’t the sky a different shade of blue? Those leaves were an odd shape, weren’t they—and don’t forget that bright blue bird. No bird sang like that in her old world.
“‘The lizards are different here too,’ she said with conviction.
“The mare strode purposefully along, changing directions with an air of confidence. Missie was content to go wherever she was taken, but certain parts of her body were aching before they finally entered another clearing. This one had a cottage with a big garden in front of it and small outbuildings behind it. Hens were pecking around one of the outbuildings. A rooster on the roof ruffled his feathers importantly before settling down.
“The bay mare walked to the cottage’s front porch and stopped. A rocking chair sat on the porch, rose vines grew on the railings, and a yellow cat lay on the steps. Missie stared, taking it all in, until the mare flattened her ears and shifted her weight. She didn’t snort, but Missie couldn’t help thinking she was about to.
“‘Okay, okay, I’m getting off,’ the young woman said.
“Sliding to the ground, she lowered herself to the step beside the yellow cat. Cautiously, she stroked its back. The cats at the manor had snarled and hissed when she tried to pet them, but a low rumble began in this cat’s chest, and it rubbed one side of its head against her hand.
“When Missie straightened again, it was to see her horse quietly disappearing into the forest.
“‘Hey, where are you going?’ she called out.
“The mare snorted loudly and broke into a run. In seconds, she was out of sight.
“Missie sprang to her feet, but there wasn’t anything she could do. She’d never catch up with a horse. Besides, she liked it here. The cat was friendly, the garden needed work, and she wanted to see the inside of the cottage.
“The door was open and nobody answered when she called, so she hesitantly walked into a sitting room with a short hallway that led to the kitchen. A staircase climbed from the kitchen to a bedroom that contained a soft old armchair and a bed.
“A puffy comforter lay on the bed, turned back as if waiting for someone to crawl under it. Missie felt a strong urge to do just that, but she made herself open the closet door instead. Inside were two skirts, two blouses, and a nightgown. She could tell that they would fit her perfectly. A pair of gardening shoes was on the closet floor. They were her size.
“Trembling, she made her way to the armchair and collapsed into it. ‘I am living a fairy tale,’ she whispered and put a hand over her pounding heart.
“The next two weeks were reassuringly normal. Missie swept and dusted the cottage. She scrubbed the outhouse, fed the chickens, and cleaned their coop, wondering daily how such small animals could make such a big mess. The garden needed to be weeded—and all the work had to be done within her limited periods of energy. Whenever she had a coughing fit or felt feverish, she rested; however, as the days went by, her energy grew.
“One of the vines on the porch railing had rose buds that bloomed gloriously red. There were other vines mingled with the one that had flowered, and their buds looked as if they’d be different colors. Missie enjoyed sitting on the porch and guessing what color would bloom next. Eventually, an evening came when she felt strong enough to take a stroll in the garden after supper instead of going straight to bed.
“The shadows lengthened. A few stars began to show. Without warning, a gaunt old man lunged out of the forest and stalked toward her.
“‘Understand the rules, girl. Understand the rules. This clearing is protected during the day, and I have to give you one warning, but if you’re out again at night, I can take you away. Then you’ll find out what I do to trespassers.’
He laughed wildly.
“Missie spun about and fled toward the cottage. Her hands were shaking so violently she could barely turn the doorknob. With a desperate whimper, she got the door open, darted inside, and closed it with a bang. There was a latch on the inside that she had never used, but she used it now. Then she ran upstairs and hid on the floor of her closet.
“At first, her heart thumped loudly enough to drown out everything else. How could she tell if that old man was breaking into the cottage if she couldn’t hear anything? Curling into a ball, she tried to breathe normally. The minutes passed. Gradually, her heart slowed to its usual quiet beating. There weren’t any sounds out of the ordinary. Tree frogs droned on and on. A bird chirped sleepily.
“‘Nothing happened,’ she told herself. ‘It’s a rule, that’s all—not to go outside when it’s dark.’
“Missie didn’t sleep well that night, but on the whole, her life continued in the peaceful pattern she had come to love, though she was always very careful to be inside the cottage before nightfall.
“‘Every fairytale has its unpleasant part,’ she said once to the cat, who looked at her noncommittally.
“Three more weeks passed. The red roses on the railing petered out and pink ones opened, filling the porch with their fragrance. White buds would undoubtedly open next, because they were fat and beginning to burst apart. The hundreds of tight yellow buds would bloom last, but Missie was already anticipating them. Yellow was her favorite color.
“She was feeling much better. The cough and fever were things of the past. Every day she woke with a zest for living that she hadn’t felt since her parents died. It wasn’t hard for her to be by herself. Missie had been hurt so deeply by people in her old world that she didn’t mind living alone the rest of her life. She didn’t realize that this too was something that needed healing.
“One afternoon, she sat down in the sitting room with a cup of hot tea. Purring loudly, the cat jumped onto her lap. At the same time, someone knocked on the front door. For a second, Missie didn’t react. Then she swallowed convulsively.
“A voice called out, ‘Hello, is anyone home?’
“Putting her cup down with trembling hands, Missie stood, unceremoniously dumping the cat onto the floor. It protested with a grumbling mew, then headed over to the door and rubbed against it.
“‘Hello,’ came the voice again.
“It was a young man’s voice, which was not in its favor as far as Missie was concerned, but it sounded friendly. The cat was stretching up toward the doorknob now. Impatiently, it turned its head toward Missie and meowed.
“Walking bravely over, Missie opened the door, though she hid behind it. Her eyes peeked around the edge, and the young man on the porch said, ‘Don’t be afraid. I am Prince Reidan, and I have come to rescue you from this horrible place.’
“‘I like it here,’ she responded right away. How dare he call her cottage a horrible place!
“Reidan was puzzled. ‘We received word that the Stalker had trapped someone in the forest cottage.’
“‘Oh, him. I forgot about him.’
“The
puzzlement deepened on the prince’s face, making Missie laugh despite herself.
“‘Come in,’ she said. ‘I’ll get you a cup of tea.’
“She led him into the kitchen and gave him tea. He took it strong with plenty of honey. Missie retrieved her cup and they went to sit on the porch, the prince settling quite happily on the top step with his sword leaning against the railing.
“For an hour or two, they looked out over the garden and talked. Finally, the cat stood, stretched, and then paused invitingly, one foot poised in midair, ready to go down the steps.
“‘Let’s go too,’ Missie suggested. ‘I’ll show you this horrible place.’
“She showed the prince everything, from the garden to the chickens to the tool shed. Even the outhouse received a visit, and the prince commented politely on its flowers. It would have been hard to say who took the most pleasure out of the tour, Missie or the cat, which followed them everywhere, waving its tail proudly in the air.
“The garden lay mellow in late afternoon sunshine when they went inside to make a pot of soup for supper. Missie baked apple crumble for dessert, using nuts and honey for the topping. Afterward, they returned to the porch and sat in comfortable silence. The prince was the first to speak.
“‘It’s a very pleasant place,’ he said with a sideways glance at Missie and a grin, ‘but it’s not right for you to be trapped, even in a place you like. Tonight, I will challenge the Stalker. If he captures people at night, he should be easier to find then.’
“Missie shuddered though she didn’t try to talk him out of it. It was what he had to do. They continued to sit together, though their silence didn’t feel comfortable any longer. Evening fell, throwing huge tree shadows over the clearing. At last, Reidan strapped on his sword.
“‘I’ll see you in the morning,” he said as he left.
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