Over the Moon

by Natalie Lloyd

  “Aw’right, now!” Iggy marches up on the stage. “Pay attention, you daisy-brained knuckleheads. Quit jabbering.” Her hair is tucked up into the brown knit hat again, and she’s looking at her endless checklist. “Listen up, ’cause I’m only saying all this once! Today, you’ll be snatching gold from the Pember Mountains. MAP!”

  The mighty Pembers, our snowy giants. These have always been my favorite mountains to see. The best time to spot them is in winter, on a morning ride down the mountain. Their white peaks always make me think of a castle, a kingdom, somewhere far away. Barely visible through a haze of gray Dust. They made me believe fairy tales exist somewhere.

  Now I’ll get to see them up close.

  The Guardians unravel the map from the trees at Iggy’s command, reminding us how far the Pember Mountains actually are from where we stand.

  Iggy continues: “So, you leave these woods and fly north. See? And you head for the mountain range all covered in snow. It’ll take you an hour, tops. Maybe two, if you’ve got a slow horse.” She smiles at Adam’s horse, Jeff. Adam pets Jeff’s muzzle.

  “Seems easy enough, right?” Iggy asks. And then she shouts: “Well, it’s not! It’s freezing cold, to start with. So there’s hats and scarves up here, and you better wear them. You’ll freeze to death if you don’t. There’s also special goggles, sent by Mr. Good—those’ll help you see even when the blizzard’s howling at you. Which it will be. Mr. Good’ll be here when you return to weigh the gold powder and distribute your Feathersworth. If you earn them. So good luck and try not to die, ’kay? And be careful with my horses!”

  And with that, she’s done.

  “Let’s ride,” I say, nodding to Adam and Greer.

  We hook the Keeps to our belts. This is the one thing I haven’t practiced, reaching down to unhook my Keep and collect gold powder. But I feel better about riding at least. We pull on hats, knitted scarves, and round goggles. And then I feel something—someone—tap my leg.

  “Need any more tips, Mallie?” Iggy is standing in front of me, tiny hands propped on her hips. “Or you going to put on another show today?”

  “No, I’m going to ride today. And by the way, it’s easy to stand down here and tell people what to do. It’s harder to get up there and actually do it.”

  Her lips curl into a grimace. “You don’t know a thing about me, Mallie-brains. Everybody’s—”

  “Got secrets,” I finish for her. “Whatever. My name is Mallie. Not Mallie-brains. Not Mallie in the Muck. Just Mallie. Of all people, you shouldn’t be making fun of my name.” I cock my head at her, curious. “Is Iggy even your real name?”

  “It’s none of your business, but yes! Iggy’s my given name! Iggy Thump is what my dad called me. I’ve been called all sorts of other things. Mostly on account of my height. Shorty, mostly. Half-pint. Gnome girl. People always describe my height first. Happens when you’re small. Tall, too, probably. I’ve also been called loudmouthed and temper-prone and boyish. Boyish! Like that’s a bad thing. It’s a pet peeve of mine, when people say girlish or boyish like it’s an actual insult. Doesn’t bother me. Because I’m proud of who I am. I know who I am.”

  “I really wasn’t trying to make you mad,” I assure her. I didn’t realize Iggy would launch into a rant. “I was honestly just curious.”

  “I’m not finished!” Iggy jabs her finger at her chest, like she’s pointing to her heart. “The name my papa gave me was Iggy Thump. He also called me brave and smart and wonderful. So, Iggy means all that to me. So you can call me crabby if you want, Mallie-girl. You might be crabby, too, if you were missing somebody like I am. I don’t care what you call me. Because love told me who I am. That’s all I have to say to you.”

  And she stomps away, her little boots making faint impressions through the dusty mud.

  Leo gives me a side-eyed glance.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I was just asking! I’ll apologize when we get back.”

  “Mount up!” Iggy hollers from the center of the clearing. “You don’t have all night!”

  I can tell the boys are already getting more confident as riders. They gallop, side by side, laughing, trying to shove each other off their horses, and howl delightedly as they soar into the sky. I wait for all the riders to go. I watch them all fly off, headed into the dusty horizon. Maybe it’s just a game to them. But this is so much more to me. Four rides and we’re out of debt. A few more than that … and maybe I can build a whole new life.

  “Ready?” Adam says, riding up beside me. I nod and mount Leo.

  In the saddle, I take the reins in my hand.

  Riders are mounting up on every side of me. The horses are shaking their heads and flicking their ears in excitement.

  A signal from one of the Guardians, and we gently lead the horses into a trot.

  Mountain girl, lift up your eyes,

  The stars are shining bright for thee.

  I don’t sing the words this time, but I feel them—let them roll through me as the horses begin to gallop. I am a mountain girl. I am born to fly. And this flight will change everything.

  The sound of horse hooves pounding the ground echoes like thunder through my chest. Ahead of me, I see a few horses jumping into flight: Honor Tumbrel, then his friends, then Greer and the boys from Coal Top.

  Steady. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Iggy watching everyone fly away. Her arms are wrapped tight around her tiny chest, as if she’s trying to give herself a hug.

  Leo is leaping already. Aching to be airborne. I’m aching, too. I keep him steady for a while longer, but I can already feel the sky calling to me, pulling me up into its wind. Riders are already far ahead of us in the sky, disappearing specks in the haze.

  I tap my heels against Leo’s sides.

  Once.

  Twice.

  “Leo, fly.”

  Leo launches into the air.

  “Good boy,” I say as my breath whooshes out of me again. “We can do this …”

  I want to remember every second of this ascent later, to tell Denver. He’ll ask me. He’ll want to know what it’s like. But how do you describe something this magical?

  As Leo rises, my stomach feels hollow. I’m light as air up here. I feel boundless. Soon enough, a feeling like fear flutters inside that hollow place. But the higher we climb, the more it mellows into joy. I couldn’t wipe this smile off my face even if I wanted to.

  The Dust is far enough above me that it’s not affecting me, and I imagine being able to fly above it. To leave a hole in the darkness.

  Leo’s hooves beat against the wind; he’s running on air. And we’re soaring.

  “Look down there!” Adam yells as he flies up beside me. “There’s Coal Top!”

  I hadn’t imagined seeing my home from up above. Yesterday, I was too busy trying not to fall off and die to notice anything else. But now I see it all clearly. So many little cottages. Little windows like fiery animal eyes in the woods. So much love and worry under those rooftops, I realize. We pass over the North Woods, right over my house. I can’t see it through the trees, but it’s down there. I know it. Maybe Mama sees me, too. Maybe she’s telling Papa about it right now, about how brave I look up here. And then, like that, Coal Top is behind me. A place that holds my entire life story so far can be seen in a blink from up above.

  We fly for miles, and the wind gets cool, then colder. I see riders to my left and right. Horses soaring steadily, occasionally flapping their wings.

  “Watch for low-flung Dust!” Adam yells. The Dust is a good hundred feet above us, but small cloudy patches loom low. They’re Dustblobs in the sky, basically. Leo and I swirl around them with ease. All the riders curve right to avoid a huge Dustcloud … and that’s when we see the mountain: jagged and snow-covered.

  Icy, sharp, tall enough to nearly touch the Dust: The Pember Range is waiting.

  The air turned snow-freckled at first, but now the snow looks like feathers. Falling around us, thickening as we get closer, shootin
g as fast as a thousand white stars as we fly upward. My face burns against the cold.

  “Steady!” I tell Leo, leaning forward just slightly. He sails into position easily, toward the first jagged peak.

  A howl of wind pushes against us, blowing us all into one another’s paths. Greer crashes into my side. “Sorry, Mallie!”

  The jolt nearly knocks the reins from my hand, but I right myself. I feel Leo’s body trembling as he fights to stay straight.

  I double-check my goggles, making sure they’re tight against my face, and flip a notch just above the lens. Not only does this help me see through the blinding snow, but it helps me see details, too. Shiny details. The mountaintop, in particular, is absolutely sparkling. That’s the gold powder we’re after. Riders are already swooping toward it, but snatching no more than a handful of dust before the wind blows them off course.

  I come up with a better idea.

  I lean into Leo, resting my face against his mane. “DOWN!”

  Leo nosedives, his wings pinned hard against my legs. When we’re halfway down the mountain, I tug the reins gently and give two commands: “Land, Leo! Climb!”

  His wings expand wide open.

  Hooves crash against the mountainside as he lands, vertically. Rocks and ice shatter toward the ground as he races up the side of one of the Pember Mountains. I lean my body weight forward, holding tight to the reins. Beside me, Adam does the same.

  I grit my teeth against the pull of gravity. Against the cold wind on my cheeks.

  When I see a sparkle in my goggles, I unhook my Keep, lean low, and swoop it along the mountain edge. The bag is heavy when I pull it back up! My heart soars when I glance at the bag and see that the inside is sparkling.

  We summit, and I shout, “Leo! Jump!”

  Adam and I both holler for joy as Leo and Jeff jump from the peak, diving toward the other side of the mountain.

  Again, Leo lands at a vertical gallop on the mountainside. Now other riders have watched us, and they’re doing the same thing. I stand in the stirrups, fighting gravity not to fall off the back of my horse as he races to the top.

  Gold powder,

  snatched.

  Wind,

  howling.

  “Leo. Jump!”

  My bag’s nearly full!

  Leo neighs wildly as he soars through the air. His wings open wide, sailing, and I know he needs a quick rest before we dive and scale the next hill. I look to my side, to tell Adam.

  Thump! Something slams against my shoulder, and my vision blurs. Pain zings across my back. I look up and realize Adam is gone. Honor Tremble is flying beside me now.

  He settles his boot back in the stirrup and smirks.

  “What are you doing?” I shout.

  He answers by standing tall in the saddle and kicking at me. Again.

  “No!” I shout as I stand in the stirrups and lean forward. “Go, Leo!”

  Leo pulls away, just missing the heel of Honor’s boot.

  “Stop that!” I yell behind me.

  In one solid move, Honor pulls his sword loose and punches a hole in my Keep. “No!” I shout, grabbing it in my hand as gold powder falls through my fingers.

  “Mallie!” Greer flies overhead, then swoops down beside me, holding out a piece of chewed gum. “I know it’s gross, but—”

  “It’s great!” I say, working quickly to patch the gum against the hole.

  I see Honor zooming ahead of me, and I reattach my Keep to my belt.

  “Go,” I command, through clenched teeth, pulling against the reins to steer Leo toward that one impossibly tall, jagged summit ahead of us. I won’t let anything stop me this time: not Honor, not the weather, not the howling wind. I will fill my Keep.

  The snow falls in spirals.

  Ice crystalizes against my face,

  my hand,

  my horse’s hair.

  But Leo doesn’t stop. And neither will I.

  “Dive!”

  I grit my teeth. Tighten my legs against Leo’s sides.

  Diving

  down,

  down,

  down and …

  At the last possible second, I gently tug the reins, and Leo’s hooves slam into the mountain. We gallop to the top, racing Honor Tremble, both filling our sacks with gold powder.

  I won’t let him intimidate me.

  I’m not Mallie in the Muck today.

  I’m Mallie over the Moon.

  I wish Mama could see.

  I wish Papa could be here …

  I think these things—and a thousand others—as I scrape gold powder off the surface of the icy mountain. We did it.

  As Leo jumps from the summit, I realize we are basically at the world’s ceiling. I see Forgotten Mountain far, far away from me. And the Dust … I can almost touch it. I want to. I never imagined I would be this close.

  I lift my left arm, stretching my fingertips, longing for the grit of it on my skin. “Climb, Leo,” I whisper. “Just a little higher …”

  Here’s the weird thing: The closer I get, the angrier I feel. Not just angry—but I feel rage. I imagine breaking Honor’s nose, stomping his shoulder like he did mine. Hurting things. Breaking things. There’s a scream inside me, deep, trying to get loose.

  “Higher,” I bark.

  But Leo sails low, with a sad whinny.

  As we get farther from the Dust, my anger fades to sheer fatigue, and I collapse against Leo’s back.

  Be gentle, Mallie, I hear Mama whisper as Leo flies me toward home.

  Over Windy Valley.

  Forgotten Mountain rising high above it.

  As we fly in a lazy circle, I see lights from lanterns on front porches piercing the night. Little bonfires here and there. And I am so proud of the place I come from. Maybe we lost the starlight years ago. But I wonder if people there know how much they still shine from far away.

  Dusk has settled over the clearing by the time everyone returns. Lanterns flicker around our camp, and riders are circled around tiny bonfires for a rest. Mortimer and his men weigh our gold powder. Leo and the other horses have gone with Iggy for a rest. I stand beside the boys from Coal Top, waiting for my reward.

  “A thousand Feathersworth for Mallie Ramble,” Mortimer says, dropping the sack into my shaking hand. “And we’ll make sure you have a new Keep before next ride.” And just like that my fatigue is eclipsed by a rush of wild joy. I’m closer than I’ve ever been to paying off our debt—with just one ride! He might as well have just given me the world.

  Mortimer smiles his enchanting smile. “Well done, Ms. Ramble.”

  And then he walks to the center of where we stand and holds up his arms, to make a decree.

  “As you know, these woods are not safe at night. And since you put your lives in danger while you fly, I don’t think it’s … right of us to ask you to put your lives in danger going home. You’ll camp here tonight. The Guardians and I will watch over you.”

  “My parents will be so worried!” I say, stepping forward. My thoughts are immediately echoed by other boys in the clearing. All our families are struggling. They all depend on us.

  “I understand,” Mortimer says gently. “I will send word to your families that you’re safe.”

  I glance down so my eyes don’t betray the sudden dread I feel. How will he send word? A Guardian? Will they find Denver? I remind myself that Denver is hidden. Mama is watching the woods closely.

  “Granny Mab is watching the woods, too,” Adam whispers beside me, as if he can hear the thoughts swirling through my mind. “He’s hidden, Mallie. He’ll be okay.”

  One of the Guardians runs up to Mortimer and whispers in his ear.

  The bonfire flickers against his face as the smile fades, and a change comes over his eyes. They look cold now, void of the spark we’ve become so used to. I feel myself cowering away from the look on his face.

  “Moments ago,” Mortimer begins, with an edge in his voice, “we had nearly twenty pounds of gold powder. Now the s
cales are showing we have around fifteen pounds. These are hard times, friends. But stealing won’t be tolerated on these missions. I’ll give the thief half an hour to return the gold—quietly. If it’s not returned, rest assured that I will find out who you are.” His eyes bore into ours as he looks around the clearing. He rests his hand on his sword. “And you’ll no longer be a rider.”

  One of the Guardians strides up beside Mortimer. He’s young and tall, and he keeps his hand on his sword hilt all the time—the same as Honor does. “I’d watch myself, if I were you,” he tells us. “Dark hearts call out to the monsters. Thieves and liars will bring them around faster than anything. Watch and see.”

  Mortimer stomps away with the Guardians to a tall tent they’ve set up in the far corner of the clearing. Whispers rise all around the camp. I look at Adam and Greer. “We’ve got to watch each other’s stuff. You know Honor and his friends are going to try to pin this on us.”

  They nod their heads, and we pull our packs close to us. I won’t go to sleep. I’ll watch all night if I have to. Darkness creeps in around us, and sometimes I think I can feel Honor’s eyes on me in the dark. Someone’s eyes, at least.

  As the night settles in, the air feels dusky. We wrap our scarves around our noses and huddle close to one another, telling stories. And I that’s when I feel him—my horse.

  I look and see Leo standing back in the trees, watching me. The firelights in the clearing shine faintly on his coat.

  “He wants me to go to him,” I whisper.

  Adam turns to look. “You can’t. The monsters …”

  “He protected me from the monsters once,” I say. “There’s something he wants to show me.”

  I push my pack toward him. “Keep an eye on that for me?”

  He nods, taking the pack under his other arm. And I slink away into the woods to my horse.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, reaching up to touch Leo’s sweet face.

  He walks, slowly enough for me to keep in stride easily. For an animal so big, Leo can be so quiet. No twigs pop under his hooves. There’s no rustling in the forest as we get farther from the clearing. As the light drifts farther away from us, I lean in closer to Leo. Just because he saved me once from a monster, does that mean he can save me again? What if this one sneaks up on both of us? What if something is watching us right now?