Ch. 12: On Temple Fell

(Return to Arheled)



           The  cold  March  day  was  overcast,  but  the  memory  of  yesterday’s  warmth  lingered  like  a  smile  beneath  the  face  of  nature. A fresh  strong-smelling  wind  blew  from  the  NW. Brooke’s car  pulled  into  the  library  parking  lot  just  as  Forest  was  locking  up  his  bike.

           “Hey,  Forest!”  said  Bell  airily.

           “Hi,  Forest.”  smiled  Brooke. “You have  any  trouble  with  your  mom?”

           “Nope.”  said  Forest. “I told  her  a  group  hike  was  going  on  for  half  the  day. She won’t  expect  me  back  till  supper.”

           “Wow,  great  minds  think  alike.”  said  Bell.

           “Little  minds  do  too,  my  sweet.”

           “Shut  up,  you’re  mean.”

           They  pored  over  Bell’s  copied  map  for  a  little,  decided  they  didn’t  need  to  look  at  the  library  one  and  then  got  in  Brooke’s  car. Her plan  was  to  park  up  the  street  at  one  of  her  favorite  swimming  holes  and  hike  over  the  Dam  and  so  to  the  mysterious  mountain  that  had  haunted  them  all  winter.

           It  was  less  than  two  minute’s  drive. North of  the  library,  after  the  great  crescentine  loop  through  the  Winsted  valley,  Rt. 44 bent  NW  and  left  the  city. A few  straggling  tenements  and  a  gas  station  strung  out  along  the  widening  turnpike,  as  well  as  a  Kingdom  Hall  of  the  Jehovites,  but  beyond  the  Coe  Av  turnoff  to  Colebrook  there  was  only  wilderness. After the  last  house,  opposite  Coe,  was  a  branching  strip  of  old  asphalt  that  marked  a  cutoff  loop  of  road,  used  more  recently  as  a  driveway  for  a  factory:  gone  now,  like  everything  else  along  Mad  River. Brooke parked  behind  an  island  of  overgrown  ornamental  juniper  between  the  old  road  and  the  turnpike.

           It  was  cold,  bright  and  grey. Now and  then  a  flake  of  snow  fell  from  the  clouds. The clump  of  white  pines  amid  the  juniper  was  bright  green. Everyone pulled  on  boots  and  they  headed  up  a  dirt  road  leading  left. Cottonwoods hung  over  it. In a few  yards  it  ended  at  a  concrete  foundation;  the  factory  that  stood  on  top  had  been  sheared  right  off  by  the  terrible  flood  of  1955,  still  present in  the  town’s  memory  like  a  shadow  of  grandfathers’  tales. Snow was still  thick  here,  and  many  old  footsteps  led  across  the  foundation. It seemed  divided;  as  they  drew  nearer  Forest  saw  it  was  a  bridge  spanning  the  furious  river  far  below  on  a  concrete  floor;  but  the  end  section  was  gone,  and  only  some  rusted  girders  spanned  the  gap. Rotted boards  stretched  across  some  of  them.

           “Ooh,  we’ve  got  to  cross  this?”  said  Bell.

           “Don’t  be  silly,  I’ve  done  it  a  hundred  times.”  said  Brooke,  passing  nimbly  over. Forest followed,  and  Bell  with  some  trepidation. They stood  on  a  flat  surface  deep  in  old  snow,  but  several  holes  revealed  it  to  be  a  roof  of  aged  concrete. They climbed  down  a  sloping  ramp  of  ancient  plank  and  scrambled  up  a  very  steep  and  difficult  bank,  clinging  to  laurel  and  grey  birch. At the  top  was  a  level  dirt  causeway.

           “Is  this  a  road?”  wondered  Bell.

           “Nope,  this  looks  like  a  railroad  bed. Probably some  more  of  that  paved  path  below  Prospect  Street.”  Brooke  said.

           The  rail  grade  cut  through  a  shoulder  of  hill  in  a  low  gulch  with  ragged  rock  walls,  grown  with  laurel  and  green  hemlock. Old snow  lay  half-melted,  and  a  snowmobile  track amidmost  was  mostly  ice. The cutting  was  swampy  and  they  squashed  along  ankle-deep.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Down  there’s  one  of  my  favorite  swimming  holes.”  said  Brooke,  motioning  to  the  river  30  feet  below. They had  come  out  of  the  cutting  and  were  now  on  a  long  curving  causeway  beside  a  steep  hill  on  the  left. A deep  hollow  lay  between  them  and  the  hill.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Not  a  very  healthy  place.”  said  Bell  dubiously,  looking  at  the  spuming  river. Greeny-white water  raged  over  round  boulders  in  a  deep  ravine. “But I  suppose  it’s  high  water.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  grade  ended  at  a  round  glade  where  the  snowmobile  seemed  to  have  turned  around. Old footprints  led  on  down  a  path  in  a  slanting  slope,  laurel and  young  hemlock  growing  spottily. The forest  looked  blank,  grey  and  brown. They followed  the  path,  with  increasing  care  as  the  snow  was  still  drifted  very  deep  and  hard  here. The path  curved  downward  to  a  knoll  of  rock  and  ended  at  a  sheer  yellowy-white  torrent  that  roared  endlessly  over  giant  teeth  of  stone. Most of  the  young  hemlocks  that  had  once  graced  the  steep  slope  were  denuded  and  piled  into  a  crude  shelter,  long  since  collapsed,  made  by  some  idiot  camper  on  the  yellow-needled  knoll.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Mad  River  Falls.”  yelled  Brooke  above  the  roar  of  water. “This place  is  just  awesome  in  summer.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There’s  no  path!”  shrieked  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “My  bad,  sorry.”  shouted  Brooke. “We have  to  climb  around  the  Falls.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  scrambled  up  a  gap  in  some  forbidding  dark  rocks  and  emerged  on  a  shard  of  flat  ledge  under  young  pines:  another  shard  of  the  grade,  washed  out  in  1955. A ragged  wall  of  rock  fronted  it. Ahead there  was  no  further  progress:  for  raging  down  the  rocky  floor  of  the  old  cut,  Mad  River  roared,  pouring  from  a  pipe  at  the  far  end  and  plunging down  a  slash  in  the  cutting’s  floor,  down  over  the  Falls.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Do  you  even  know  where  you’re  going,  girlfriend?”  shouted  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Afraid  not!”  Brooke  yelled.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Up  here.”  said  Forest,  who  had  gone  back  to  the  place  they’d  climbed  up. A narrow  steep  bank  led  up  a  break  in  the  wall. They made  it  up  with  some  effort,  but  all  three  were  nimble. The wood  on  top  sloped  but  not  as  steep,  and  was  more  open,  with  beech  and  oaks  replacing  the  pines.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hey,  nice! A path!”  said  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Maybe  it’s  the  same  path.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Wouldn’t  that  be  nice. It’s probably  some  old  deer  path.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Whether  deer  or  long-abandoned  human  path,  the  narrow  track  wound  level  along  the  hillside  among  laurel  and  rocks,  brown  leaves  and  black  earth  with  skin  of  moss. Far below  like  a  canyon  on  their  right  lay  the  cutting,  almost  under  their  feet. The path  curved  downward  into  an  open  snowfield,  and  they  emerged  to  find  themselves  on  Mad  River  Dam.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  huge  dike,  piled  with  enormous  labor  from  uncounted  tons  of  broken  rock,  barred  the  gorge  from  right  to  left. It was  a  steep  steady  slope  of  stones,  among  which  wan  yellow  grass  grew. The fresh  wind  stirred  the  girls’  hair  under  their  hats. The tops  of  hills  looked  over  the  trees  as  they  mounted. Overhead the  clouds  were  breaking,  blue  isles  opening,  and  as  they  picked  their  way  over  the  snowfield  a  gleam  of  sun  stared  down.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Careful,  guys,  you  could  break  an  ankle  here.”  said  Brooke.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           But  nobody  did,  and  they  climbed  up  the  open  slope,  looking  around  with  delight. There was  the  cutting,  a  vertical  bar  of  raging  water. A  V  valley  to  the  left  and  much  lower  must  have  been  the  former  bed. Up they  climbed. Pink veins  of  feldspar  and  quartz  gleamed  on  some  rocks;  others  were  dark  blue  banded  with  pink  or  white. They tramped  up  a  bar  of  drifted  snow  and  stood  at  the  top. A strong wind  cut  through  their  coats. Grey clouds  processed  along  the  horizon. Before them  on  the  far  side  a  deep  valley  lay,  filled  with  a  long  narrow  lake. Strange grey  hills  rose  to  the  right;  to  the  left  was  a  long  low  hill,  the  one  they  sought.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Look  at  that  tree!”  said  Bell,  indicating  a  tall  spiky  pine  rising  twice as  high  as  its’  fellows  from  a  hilltop  a  mile  off.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That’s  a  cell  phone  tower.”  said  Forest.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  is  not!”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  can  see  the  broadcasting  panels.”  he  replied  tartly. “They’re disguised.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Crummy  disguise.”  said  Brooke,  looking  at  the  thick  brown  pole  and  the  spiky  fiberglass  branches.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Behind  them  the  deep  gorge  opened  into  the  Winsted  hills. Forest pointed  out  The  Cobble,  invisible  against  the  trees  of  Spencer  Hill  save  for  its’  pines  and  the  hospital  below  it.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Brrr! Can we  get  out  of  this  wind?”  exclaimed  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  hurried  toward  the  nearby  left-hand  or  south  end  of  the  dike. Under the  hill-shadow  the  snow  was  still  deep,  but  old  snowmobile  tracks  packed  it  hard  along  a  wide  ledge,  up  which  a  dirt  road  turned  sharply  right  and  ran  west  under  the  hillside. It was  marshy  in  places. Sun shone  in  bright  gleams. At one  point  white  pines  drew  in  overhead  in  a  sort  of  tunnel. They came  to  a  T  intersection  where  the  road  ended.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There’s  a  dirt  road  marked  on  the  map  up  that  way.”  said  bell,  pointing  left. “It should  take  us  right  to  one  end  of  the  mountain.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  the  far  end.”  said  Brooke. They headed  up. The road  was  eroded  into  a  lumpy  gully  on  one  side  in  which  yellow-grey-tan  mud  squished  underboot. They climbed  up  a  wonderful  rolling  smooth  slope  of  striped  tan  granite  and  then  a  deep  gully  cleaving  a  steeper  slope. At the  top  they  crossed  a  trench  cutting  through  the  forest  and  came  out  on  a  level  saddle. The hill  above  the  Falls  rose  slowly  on  the  left,  and  on  the  right  were  pines  on  a  height  topping  above  the  trees. A broad  dirt  road  curved  in  from  the  right.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  think  it’s  this  way.”  said  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Is  that  the  Fell?”  asked  Brooke,  indicating  the  height.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Nope.”  said  Bell. “That’s just  a  knoll  or  something.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  took  the  road  that  slanted  in  from  the  right. Ronnie could  have  told  them  its’  name,  Rattle  Valley  Road,  once  a  travelled  way  between  Boyd  Street  and  Rugg  Brook  Rd,  but  Ronnie  was  not  there,  and  Bell’s  map  had  no  names. It mounted  up  between  deep  mossy  banks,  meltwater  trickling  among  loose  rocks. It was  very  pleasant;  laurel  grew  on  the  banks  and  featherlock  pines  overhung  them.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           So  they  climbed  out  of  Rattle  Valley and  came  to  a  wood  deeper  in  snow,  and  the  road  forked. Bell’s map  didn’t  show  the  fork. Through the  thin  maples  a  spiky  level  height  could  be  seen,  barring  the  way  like  a  wall  far  ahead:  the  ridge  of  Temple  Fell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  guess  this  right-hand  fork  would  get  us  nearer.”  decided  Brooke.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  branch  road  was  smaller,  a  mere  forest  track. It passed  under  green  hemlocks  and  one  section  was  flooded  too  deep  for  their  boots,  making  a  detour  necessary. They came  out  of  the  hemlocks  into  a  wood  of  open  pale  grey  beech  and  oaks,  grey  and  brown. The road  took  them  over  a  sloping  knoll. As they  mounted  the  sun  came  out,  and  the  forest  glowed,  bright  gray  trees  and  shining  brown  leaves. Hemlocks crowned  the  knoll. The sinister  height  was  long  hidden  by  trees. Beyond lay  a  higher  knoll. At the  top  of  this,  however,  the  road  bent  right  and  plunged  down  a  farther  slope,  back  into  the  river  gorge.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  think  we’d  better  leave  the  road.”  said  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  headed  farther  up  onto  the  knoll,  leaving  the  road  behind. Soon they  found  they  were  following  a  faint  jeep  track,  two  dim  dents  in  the  black  earth  made  by  repeated  ATVs. They followed  this  under  older  and  thicker  hemlocks. The track  made  a  great  looping  curve  and  left  the  hemlocks. A slight  descent  lay  ahead,  and  then there  rose  formless  brown  slopes,  which  could  only  be  the  feet  of  Temple  Fell. But between  them  and  it  was  a  row  of  trees  blazed  yellow,  and  on  them  yellow  signs  that  said:  Public  Watershed,  Keep  out,  as  well  as  sundry  other  stern  warnings.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  guys,  I  think  we  better  not  go  any  further.”  said  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They  cannot  bar  Temple  Fell  against  us.”  said  Forest. Both girls  looked  at  him  in  surprise.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  No  Trespassing.”  Bell  said. “We could  get  arrested.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Shut  up.”  said  Forest.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Wh…you…”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We  are  under  a  prior  command.”  said  Forest. “The Road  will  not  let  them  gainsay  us.”  He  marched  past  the  forbidding  sign.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Come  on.”  said  Brooke. “He’s right,  you  know.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Well,  I  hope  we  don’t  get  caught.”  muttered  Bell,  but  she  followed.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  sun  gleamed  brightly  now. Clouds had  split  and  parted  leaving  a  broad  sea  of  blue. The track  was  delved  in  old  snow,  printed  with  snowmobiles. The bare  brown  and  grey  slopes  beyond  looked  quite  ordinary. Although stiff  they  did  not  seem  especially  high. A lot  of  dead  logs  lay  about  from  logging  operations  a  long  time  ago. Forest, Bell  and  Brooke  mounted  up  the  stiff  slope,  following  a  logging  track,  and  emerged  onto  the  hilltop. Behind them  lay  the  white  expanse  of  Crystal  Lake. A knoll  rose  on  the  right,  and  ahead  were  more  hemlocks.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  was  not  until  they  entered  the  hemlocks  that  they  first  began  to  feel  it. The hemlocks  were  older  than  any  they  had  yet  seen,  thick  and  tangled,  and  very  green,  and  somehow  also  very  strange. Their steps  slowed  and  they  glanced  around, and  as  they  passed  deeper  into  the  spaced  old  pines  and  the  glades  of  dark  sunlight  among  them,  they  began  to  feel  the  strangeness.

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<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Ronnie  Wendy  and  Travel  Lane  mounted  up  the  cliff,  puffing  and  out  of  breath. They had  followed  the  Mad  River  west  from  the  dike  until  they  came  at  last  to  the  cliffy  slope  rising  out  of  the  river  that  Ronnie  remembered. Up over  huge  ferny  boulders  drifted  deep  in  snow  they  had  climbed,  and  then  up  slopes  where  the  rocks  fell  away  and  they  clung  to  old  laurel,  and  then  up  cliffs  of  mossy  earth,  where  no  snow  had  been  able  to  cling,  and  even  the  boles  of  the  thick  close  young  hemlocks  that  stood  like  greenish  poles  up  from  the  slope,  were  dull  green  with  moss. Then the  slope  grew  lesser  and  more  blocky,  and  there  were  glades  of  laurel,  and  the  hemlocks  branched  like  vines  right  from  the  roots,  and  they  stumbled  out  onto  a  hilltop. Pushing aside  dead  and  living  boughs  they  stood  up  in  a  more  open  area.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Then  they  too  began  to  feel  the  strangeness  of  this  place.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Thick  old  hemlocks,  tangled  and  ancient,  grew  in  green  and  silent  closeness about  them. Farther on  they  opened,  sweeping  green  boughs  fencing  scattered  glades. But they  did  not  feel  like  normal  trees.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  was  hard  for  either  to  lay  a  hand  on  what  it  was,  but  their  steps  slowed  and  even  whispers  fell. Despite the  wind  rushing  in  the  hemlocks,  it  was  silent. A strangeness  lay  in  the  very  shape  of  twig  and  bough,  barely  there,  unpinnable  but  present. It felt  solemn. No, not  quite  that  either,  thought  Ronnie  as  they  came to  the  edge  of  the  knoll  and  went  down  into  a  saddle;  more  like  queer. The reaching  limbs. The sad  grim  silent  look  of  the  gladed  pines. Almost sacred.

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<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  Midwinter  climbed  up  the  rocky  head  and  stood  erect  with some  relief. She had  taken  the  dirt  road  the  topo  map  showed  going  up  around  the  SW  end  of  what  seemed  to  be  the  likeliest  hill. She looked  around. An open,  grassy  glade  met  her  eyes,  slanting  downhill  to  her  right. It was  odd,  somehow. It felt  peculiar.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  headed  NE,  the  sun  behind  her,  along  the  ridge  of  Temple  Fell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Rough,  short,  groping  hemlocks  began  to  close  in  around  her. She paused. This place  felt  strange. No, this  place  felt  downright  queer. The twisted  shapes  the  hemlocks  formed  threw  a  vague  uneasiness  deep  down  into  her. She passed  a  thick  white  pine  with  many  dead  branches  above  a  solitary  rock  a  couple  feet  high,  glancing  up  at  it  warily. But it  was  stiff  and  unmoving,  and  made  no  sign.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           As  the  hemlocks  grew  deeper,  so  did  Lara’s  unease. She found  she  was  following  a  faint  path,  now  here,  now  lost,  now  just  a  clear  space  between  trees,  now  a  discernible  dent  in  the  earth,  and  she  felt  she  should  stay  on  it.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           ''Stars  they  are  falling  as  the  Road  calls  all  them  home… ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Old  queer  hemlocks  trailed  long  dead  branches  from  their  boles,  reaching  like  horrible  skeletal  fingers. The road-trace  passed  between  green  young  foliage,  dipping  into  hollows. Fallen trees  blocked  it.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  mustn’t  lose  the  road. She mustn’t  leave  the  road.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Hurrying  now,  she  passed  down  an  avenue  of  hemlocks. Ahead, like  a  gate,  lay  an  open  grove. The queerness  grew  with  each  step  and  she  slowed.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Then  she  came  out  on  the  edge  and  stopped  dead  in  her  tracks.

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<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  and  the  girls  turned  aside  from  the  strange  glades,  following  a  faint  dent  in  the  earth,  as  if  a  road  had  once  traversed  along  the  hilltop. It passed  near  the  edge,  and  leaning  against  a  young  hickory  was  an  odd,  flat,  oblong  slab,  standing  erect  like  a  marker. Or a  milestone. It was  about  a  foot  high  and  an  inch  thick. Bell studied  it  but  could  find  no  writing  on  the  mossy  face.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  track  went  on,  under  an  arching  tunnel  of  dark  green,  twisted  hemlock. It wound  out  into  a  glade,  walled  by  stooping  featherlocks,  grass  matted  among  the  oak  leaves. On the  right  the  hemlock  wood  was  deeper,  darker,  upon  the  narrow  hilltop;  a  queer,  tingling  sort  of  wariness  began  to  grow  under  Forest’s  skin.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  is  this  place?”  whispered  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  pretty  well  named.”  muttered  Brooke. “It certainly  feels  like  a  temple.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  not  Christian  here.”  said  Forest,  gazing  around. He felt  it  growing  with  each  step,  the  omnipresent  queerness,  the  faint  sad  unease;  he  felt  it  stronger  than  the  others. Something ancient,  some  power  from  before  the  world,  something  not  Christian  was  in  this  fell. He felt  eerie,  but  not  haunted;  not  canny,  but  not  evil. Worse than  evil.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lone  featherlocks  drooped  long  tents  of  hands  to  touch  and  sweep  the  leaves  with  reaching  green. Cold winds  sighed  and  snarled  in  the  hickories. They came  out    into  a  more  open  wood. Moss grew  deep  among  grey  rocks. The sun  was  bright  and  cold. They reached  a  semicircle  of  stacked  rocks. Bell paused  but  Forest  walked  past.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  only  a  firepit.”  he  said.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  flat  mountain-ridge  began  to  climb. Laurel fringed  the  trace  road. The ground  grew  lumpy. The sinister  lone  featherlocks  drew  in  again,  huge  and  tangled  and  groping. Suddenly they  came  into  a  small  glade,  ringed  with  hickory  and  hemlock  and  maple,  and  in  the  mossy  grass  stood  a  solitary  stone. The top  although  broken  and  sloping  was  flatish,  and  small  rocks  were  piled  on  it.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Come  on,  Forest.”  said  Brooke,  although  quietly. “What’s the  matter?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That’s  an  altar.”  he  murmered,  staring  fixedly  at  it. He forced  himself  to  walk  on  past.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  sun  came  out  again  as  they  passed  under  a  hemlock  more  twisted  and  ancient  than  the  others. Hemlocks reached  sweeping  hands  down. Lone hickories  stood  about,  their  crooked  limbs  like  clenching  claws. The eerie  tingling  sense  of  queerness  was  greater,  like  unheard  wails  faint  and  dreadful  behind  the  world  of  sight. He stopped.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What’s  wrong?”  whispered  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  stumbled  forward,  over  fallen  trees  and  sticks  white  as  bones. The grass  was  longer  and  thicker. A wall  of  grim  featherlock  lay  ahead,  punctuated  with  short  gray  hickories. A lone  hemlock  or  two  on  the  left. A whole  grove  of  hickories. All leaning  inward  toward  the  center  of  the  grove,  crooked  tormented  thornlike  twigs  held  like  clutching  fingers  toward  it. He staggered  around  the  corner  of  a  solitary  hemlock  and  stopped  dead.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Another  lone  rock  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  grove. The top  of  this  was  flat. O it  more  pebbles,  chips  of  quartz,  even  coins  and  bits  of  white  coral,  were  piled,  and  small  slabs  of  rock  stood  on  end. Orderly. An altar  even  worse  than  the  other. Eight fallen  stones  lay  by  the  western  end;  a  ninth,  he  knew,  lay  buried  in  the  grass  nearby. The sunlight  shone  down  stark  and  very  cold.

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<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Only  slowly  did  he  become  aware  of  other  things. A girl  had  emerged  into  the  clearing  on  the  far  side,  where  the  road  trace  crossed  it  and  exited  through  the  featherlock  wall. She was  slender  and  pale-faced,  her  fair  skin  like  a  star  against  her  dark  brown  hair  and  black  coat. Footsteps were  coming  up  from  the  dark  woods  on  the  right  and  two  others  emerged  into  the  uncanny  place,  a  young  man  with  bronze  hair  and  a  sharp  face,  and  a  dark-haired  girl  in  a  navy  blue jacket. The three  groups,  three,  two  and one,  stood  on  the  three  sides  of  the  clearing,  east,  north  and  west,  as  still  as  the  trees  on  the  cold  mountaintop,  fixed  upon  the  altarstone.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Then  the  youth  with  the  bronze  hair  moved  forward,  eyes  burning,  jaw  set  and  grim,  toward  the  altar. Whether he  intended  to  cast  down  the  items  upon  it  or  not,  Forest  never  found.

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ronmond,  touch  it  not.” ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Wind  fell  silent. Sunlight grew  suddenly  warm  again. The low,  strong  voice,  not  loud  but  full  of  power,  froze  the  red-haired  youth  in  his  own  tracks.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Unseen  by  any  of  them,  as  if  he  had  appeared  out  of  thin  air,  the  man  in  brown  had  come. He stood  in  the  center  of  the  clearing,  where  the  faint  track  passed  near  the  altarstone. He had  his  brown  leather  coat  open,  showing  the  flannel  plaid  beneath. He wore  no  hat  upon  his  silvery  hair,  which  fell  about  his  ears  and  down  his  neck,  and  his  short  beard  made  his  chin  look  like  a  king’s.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  are  the  six  that  I  have  called. Five from  the  villages. One from  Winsted. One from  each  church. Brook for  the  streams,  Lake  for  the  Two  Ponds,  Lane  for  the  Road,  Midwinter  for  the  Stars,  and  Bell  for  the  Churches. On this  feast  of  St.  Joseph  have  I  called  you  here  to  Temple  Fell;  now  tell  me,  do  you  enter  well?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “All  who  are  here  enter  well.”  said  Lara  Midwinter.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  are  the  six  that  I  have  called:  Forest  Lake,  of  woods  and  waters,  whose  gift  it  is  to  see  unseen  and  call  the  uncallable,  from  Winsted  upon  the  Long  Lake:  welcome. Bell Light,  of  the  Five  Churches,  sister  of  Forest,  whose  gift  it  is  to  waken  them,  from  Burrville,  welcome. Ronnie Wendy  of  finding  and  following,  whose  gift  it  is  to  reveal  and  penetrate,  son  of  the  hills,  of  Pleasant  Valley:  welcome. Lara Midwinter  of  the  stars  and  skies,  eldest  daughter  of  Nine,  whose  gift  is  over  light  and  cold,  from  the  House  of  Midwinter  in  the  vale  of  Riverton:  welcome. Travel Lane  last  heir  of  Wayham  Lane,  whose  gift  it  is  to  travel  truly,  of  the  House  of  Lane  in  Colebrook:  welcome. Brooke Pond  of  stream  and  river,  whose  gift  it  is  to  affine  with  water,  from  Winchester  Center:  welcome  in  the  name  of  the  Road,  all  six  you  who  serve  it. For the  Road  is  returning,  and  the  fourth  and  final  teaching  of the  world  and  the  stars  is  come  to  revelation.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           There  was  silence  there  upon  the  heart  of  Temple  Fell  as  Forest  looked  at  the  others  of  this  mysterious  fellowship. Lara by  herself. Ronnie whom  he  knew,  and  Travel  whom  he  did  not. His friends  Bell  and  Brooke. They shared  a  likeness,  he  could  see;  a  something  in  their  eyes,  in  the  way  they  looked,  a  certain  way  of  looking  at  the  world,  a  sense  of  the  hidden,  an  appreciation  of  things. They had  all,  in  one  fashion  or  another,  seen  the  Tree.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Who  are  you?”  Lara  said  all  at  once. “Can you  tell  us  your  name?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  am  Wayfinder.”  the  Man  in  Brown  said  simply. Travel gave  a  slight  gasp. “Now tell  me,  you  whom  I  have  called,  tell  me  of  what  you  have  learned  and  what  you  know.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Forest,  what  are  the  names?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Words  flowed  from  the  quiet  boy  as  easily  as  water. “Ando Lemenka  is  the  Long  Lake,  which  we  call  Highland. Tinda Dillüra  is  the  Little  Pond  of  Crystal. The  Daslenga is  the  name  of  the  River  of  Winsted,  for  angry  is  he.”  Lara  gave  a  little  gasp. The sun  shone  warm  and  peaceful  in  the  still  air,  though  all  around  the  dirge  of  wind  was  moaning  on. “Ars the  Ash  tree,  Orvert  the  beech,  Ordrace  the  soldiers  of  the  house  of  Birch. Ongorond the  box  elder  keeps  watch  upon  his  foe,  Alwamba  the  alder,  and  with  him  are  the  swamp-wardens,  Gromlë  the  red  maples. Malvorn  the maple  is  the  roadsman  of  New  England. Castanë  the Chestnut  is  opposed  to  witches.  Almba the  Elm  is  steadfast  against  water-rot. Orndirk  the hickory  whose  virtue  is  endurance,  Sedalgru  the  cedar,  Warntem  the  hornbeam,  brother  of  elm. Nindello  the linden  brings  light  into  the  forests.  Kerk  the Oak  is  king  of  trees,  Jarka  the  Gateholder  of  many  houses. Pondoupo the  poplar  is  pillar  of  the  forests.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  pines  are  perilous. Artarn the  white  pine,  guardian  of  the  north. Tarjë Vernolda  the  Featherlock  pine,  whom  we  know  as  hemlock,  who  contests  the  Rider,  yet  is  grown  wild  and  strange. The enemies also,  Austrian  pine,  Dintarn  the  untrusty;  the  pitch  pine,  Gitcharn  the  chatterer;  and  most  of  all  the  spruces,  Vardape  the  Norway,  friend  of  witches;  Ploevard  the  Blue,  unfriendly  to  men;  Daurcavard  the  bog  spruce  who  lures  the  unwary. These are  the  names  of  the  trees  of  the  North  in  their  houses  and  ranks.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Well  have  you  learned,  Forest. Now Bell,  recite  to  me  the  lore  of  the  Five  Churches  of  Winsted.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  tensed  a  little,  but  once  she  started  she  found  herself  talking  as  easily  as  Forest:  “The  Five  Churches  are  forts  of  stone  that  hold  the  North  against  the  coming  of  the  Rider  of  the  Darkness,  and  New  Baptist’s  shape  is  the  key  to  their  nature. St. Joseph’s is  central,  and  it  and  St. James point  out  the  ways,  for  they  are  brothers. The Methodist  church  is  a  marker  of  the  Road,  and  Old  Baptist  is  a  sign  of  the  end.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “This  is  the  way  that  they  point:  the  cross  of  St. James points  to  the  steeple  of  St. Joseph’s, and  the  gargoyles  point,  one  to  Cobble  Hill,  one  to  Pratt  Hill,  Sand  Bank  Cem,  and  Wallens  Hill  Rd. St. Joseph’s steeple  points  to  Featherlock  Swamp,  and  Soldier’s  Tower,  for  that  is  the  center  of  the  Five  Churches. The four  west  spires  point,  three  to  Temple  Fell,  one  to  Street  Hill. At the  Methodist  church  is  the  First  Milestone,  which  on  Christmas  Eve  midnight  shows  the  date  of  the  return  of  the  Road  in  2017  and  the  distance  of  Temple  Fell. Upon the  Old  Baptist  are  swinging  hammers  and  pendant  hammers,  and  the  carved  stern  of  a  boat  pointing  NW. Smite on  the  heavens,  say the  bells  of  St. Joseph’s; till  they  are  broken,  say  the  bells  of  New  Baptist;  but  Come  down  and  slay,  say  the  bells  of  St.  James.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  have  answered  well. Relate now  to  me,  Travel,  what  lore  you  have  learned.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Travel spoke  hesitantly  at  first,  but  then  more  quickly. “Every hundred  years  since  Wayham  Lane,  the  Wayfinder  has  spoken  to  the  heirs  of  the  Lanes. I do  not  know  what  he  has  said  or  he  has  done,  but  he  set  the  Lane  family  in  Colebrook  to  guard  the  Road  and  to  greet  it  when  it  returns. This year  is  the  four  hundredth  since  the  Wayfinder  came  in  1611. Winterberry rings  our  house  against  witches. Acting on  a  hint  from  you,  I  tracked  down  the  last  appearance  of  the  Wild  Man  of  Winsted,  on  Panorama  Hill  in  Colebrook,  and  found  that  he  was  pointing  to  the  Lost  Caves  of  Colebrook.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “My  words,  I  see,  were  not  in  vain.”  said  the  mysterious  man  in  brown  and  leather. He turned  his  back  to  Forest,  facing  Lara. “Lara eldest  daughter  of  Nine,  tell  me  the  lore  of  the  House  of  Midwinter.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara’s  clear,  precise  voice  and  intense,  taunt  manner  of  delivery  seemed  to  ring  in  the  trees  of  the  silent  grove. “This is  the  lore  that  was  passed  on  to  me  about  the  constellation  of  the  Herald,  known  to  men  as  Orion:

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“What is  the  sign  of  the  head  of  the  Herald?

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">The head  of  the  Herald  is  hidden  from  view. ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Where aims  the  point  of the  arrow  of  the  Herald?

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Through the  Heart  of  the  Fish  and  the  Eye  of  the  Snake, ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri"> he aims  upon  the  star  of  the  Northern  Pole. ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">What bears  up  the  Herald,  on  what  does  he  ride? ''Daslenga bears  the  Herald,  for  angry  is  he;  on  the  river  of  silver  the  rider  is  him.” ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  have  spoken  well.”  said  Wayfinder. “Now shall  I  tell  you,  you  who  do  not  yet  know,  of  the  history  of  the  world.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  conversation  that  followed  was  of  the  most  peculiar  sort. To Forest  watching  it,  the  Wayfinder  would  speak  a  single  sentence,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  five  others  a  bright  glow  would  rage  for  a  second,  as  if  they  were  coals  he  was  fanning  into  life. Forest saw  dim  shapes  of  gigantic  images  passing  in  their  eyes;  images  he  long  had  known,  for  he  had  dreamed  them  but  he  could  not  always  speak  them  aloud. The Trees  and  the  weeping  of  the  Gods  over  their  dead  boles;  the  Sun  and Moon  sailing  up  the  skies,  the  tremendous  bending  of  the  world  and  the  slamming  of  the  Doors  of  Night  upon  the  terrible  darkness  wrapped  with  a  chain.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Slowly  the  tremendous  bequeathing  was  finished. The flame  died  in  the  eyes  of  the  others. They stirred,  stiff,  as  if  from  long  standing.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Tell  me,  then,  you  whom  I  have  called,  how  were  the  Stars  made.”  Wayfinder  said.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They  were  made  in  Daslenga.”  Ronnie  spoke  up. “It flows  everlastingly  down  the  Silver  Falls.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There  the  Gods  dipped  great  pitchers  when  they  went  to  make  the  Stars.”  said  Lara.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  they  were  set  in  the  sky  for  signs  and  for  seasons,  for  singing  and  for  shining;  but  not  to  meddle,  and  never  to  make  war.”  Forest  finished.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  speak  truly.”  Wayfinder  replied. “The great  mystery  is  known  now  to  you  in  part. <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The beginning  is  known. The ending  is  known,  for  we  walk  onward  toward  it  and  it  is  nigh  beneath  our  feet. But it  is  not  known  of  the  transition. The roads  that  walk  the  heavens,  and  the  roads  that  go  to  earth. Of these  shall  we  search,  as  the  Road  draws  near:  for  I  am  Wayfinder.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “That’s  not  your  name.”  accused  Ronnie. “That’s not  who  you  are. That is  only  what  you  have  done.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           The  silence  on  the  mountaintop  weighed  down  on  them  like  lead,  as  all  five  humans  and  Wayfinder  stared  at  Ronnie  Wendy. But the  piercing  eyes  of  Ronnie  were  not  daunted. He lifted  the  side  of  his  right  hand;  a  pink  scar,  freshly  healed,  ran  down  it.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “You  bearded  me  in  my  own  house  and  taunted  me  I  could  not  know  reality;  I  lift  this  scar  in  witness  against  you! Ever since  we  knew  you  you’ve  been  playing  with  our  minds,  tossing  us  dumb  clues  to  things  that  make  no  sense  and  are  not  so! What’s your  purpose  here,  Wayfinder? What’s your  game?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Tree  and  stone  and  air  seemed  to  lean  in,  listening. A deadly  fear  gripped  Forest:  did  Ronnie  have  the  slightest  idea  of  the  enormity  of  what  he  had  done? He wanted  to  cry  out,  but  he  could  no  more  speak  than  he  could  fly. The queer  eyes  of  Wayfinder,  blue  but  amber-hearted,  seemed  as  brilliant  as  if  lit  from  inside;  and  where  pupil  should  be,  was  a  glow  of  white.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Do  you  challenge  me,  Ronmond  Wendtho?”  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  very  quiet,  and  yet  taunt  with  power;  and  the  mountain  underneath  seemed  to  thrum. Ronnie gave  back  a  full  step  but  did  not  back  down,  nor  drop  his  eyes.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  demand  to  know  what  you  are  up  to!”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Do  you  question  in  your  heart  the  things  that  I  have  shown  and  told  unto  you? Do you  think  that  all  I  said  has  been  a  baseless  lie?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  bent  forward.  “Do you  challenge  me,  Ronmond  Wendtho?!”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Though  he  stood  twenty  feet  away,  Ronnie  staggered  slightly. “That is  not  my  name!”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Terrible  and  tall  now  stood  Wayfinder,  and  a  sort  of  shadow  seemed  to  be  falling  over  the  light,  though  no  clouds  were  near  the  sun,  so  that  shadow  robed  him  like  a  mantle:  shadow  flickering with  lightning. Majestic now  as  a  lord  of  heaven  he  seemed,  and  his  voice  when  he  spoke  rang  like  thunder.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That  is  your  name. Did you  seriously  think  that  you  were  named  after  a  girl? I gave  it  you. I appointed  you.

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  am  Arheled!” ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  terrible  declaration  rolled  away  among  the  hills  like  the  echoes  of  a  gunshot.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Six  human  youths  stared  at  the  being  who  wore  their  shape  but  was  not  them,  still  as  if  all  made  in  stone,  only their  bright  and  gleaming  eyes  revealing  life.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Slowly  the  shadow  of  power  was  veiled. The sun  shone  warm  again. Before them  stood  the  strange  old  man  who  had  named  himself  Wayfinder;  but  he  was  mantled  now,  like  a  drawn  cloak. His eyes  twinkled  slightly,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  again  the  rough  low  voice,  quiet,  warm  and  humerous,  of  the  man  they  had  known  only  as  Brown.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  I  am  Arheled. I am  the  warden  of  the  Road. It is  I  who  call  it  and  who  steer  it,  though  I  give  it  my  service;  for  the  Road  is  not  commanded,  but  can  only  be  guided. Every hundred  years  it  comes  into  the  world,  it  returns  to  mortal  earth  at  midnight  on  Christmas Eve. It comes  here. I stand  upon  it  now,  upon  the  print  that  it  has  left  upon  the  matter  of  this  hill:  for  this  is  Temple  Fell,  and  all  who  enter  here  must  enter  well.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  Bell  said  it  wouldn’t  return  till  2017.”  said  Ronnie.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “When  they  counted  back  the  years  to  see  what  time  that  Christ  was  born,  they  missed  the  date  and  fixed  it  about  six  whole  years  too  late.”  Arheled  answered. “So this  year  of  2011  is  actually  2017. It is this  year,  but  next  winter,  that  the  Road  will  return. And it  is  you  the  six  of  you  who  must  walk  it.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  this…doesn’t  make  sense.”  said  Lara  faintly. “All that  you  showed  us,  wouldn’t  there  be  ruins  or  architectural  traces  of  this  worldwide  Atlantis  empire? There’d be  inscriptions. There’d be  some  kind  of  trace.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They  are  given  other  names  when  they  are  found.”  said  Arheled. “You forget  the  world  has  been  ground  into  powder  by  two-mile-thick  ice,  and  the  rest  of  it  drowned  by  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep. And you  who  put  such  faith  in  what  the  men  of  science  say  about  the  things  that  they  dig  up  from  earth,  consider  that  the  Flood  of  Noe  is  no  longer  recognized  by  geologists. They hold  there  were  four  Ages  of  Ice;  they  hold  that  meltwater  sculpted  all  the  vast  deposits;  they  hold  that  there  were  some  submergences,  but  nothing  single,  wide  and  all-encompassing  like  the  Bible’s  dreadful  words. Denying the  Bible,  they  invent  wild  mythologies  to  disprove  it:  meteor strikes  and  giant  volcanos  and  mass  extinctions. Yet all  through  Africa  and  up  into  Asia,  and  even  along the  coasts  of  the  Americas,  are  ruins  for  which  history  has  no  name:  pre-Egypt,  pre-Phonecia;  pre-Flood,  for  all  they  can  tell,  for  if  there  is  no  huge  layer  of  mud,  who  is  to  tell  whether  it  was  before  or  after  the  World  Deluge? They slap  on  a  label  for  the  sake  of  reference,  but  they  do  not  know  who  built  the  Olmec  ruins.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But…how  does  all  this  square  with  the  Bible?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Does  Genesis  say  what  happened  in  the  time  before  the  Flood? Jared begot  Enoch;  Enoch  begot  Melthusala…before  Noe  there  is  no  divine  history.”  His  eyes  grew  distant. “Seven thousand  years  before  Christ  came  down  to  Earth  was  the  drowning  of  the  world,  nine  thousand  years  before  this  very  year.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why  did  you  name  me  Ronmond?”  said  Ronnie. “And what  does  Arheled  mean? And what  is  Lara?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Names  made  from  words  in  the  language  that  I  speak.”  said  Arheled. “In that  speech,  first  wrought  by  the  Guardians  at  the  bottom  of  the  world  after  it  was  bent  (and  before  that  I  spoke  many  tongues,  but  Elvish  most, and  Elvish  is  my  name,  though  it  has  other  meanings  as  well)—in  that  tongue,  Lara  means  Star,  and  Ronmond  is  Hill,  and  Wendtho  stands  for  Road. You are  named  after  this  mountain,  Ronnie  Wendy:  Hill  of  the  Road,  Ronmondíae  Wendtho. For this  mountain  is  named  thrice:  Temple  Fell  for  the  sacredness  upon  it,  and  Lundnoem  Harnda  the  Silent  Place,  and  lastly  Hill  of  the  Road.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  what  is  Arheled?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  named  myself  that  in  the  tongue  of the  Elves  in  the  ages  when Arda  was  still  a  level  field. For in  that  tongue  Ar  means  high  or  noble,  while  heled  means  hard  glass  or  crystal. But in  the  speech of  the  Guardians  Ar  stands  for  White,  and  híled  means  warden,  protector. And in  the  languages  of  Men  is  a  word  heden,  ‘one  arrayed  in  hides  or  fur  or  leather’,  hided,  heden. In jest  I  have  accordingly  always  worn  leather  or  fur. Not always,  of  course,”  he  said  musingly,  “not  when  I  walked  the  Winter  Train  for  instance. So I  am  named  Superior  silver-crystal,  or  Noble  crystal,  and  also  the  White  Warden. Yet these  are  but  a  taken  name;  my  true  name,  like  my  nature,  I  reveal  to  none.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Are  you  an  angel?”  Bell  asked.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  am  venda.”  the  being  answered. “I do  not  share  the  angelic  nature. I stand  alone;  there  are  none  like  me,  nor  will  be. But I  stand  upon  the  side  of  the  Church.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">He paused,  considering. “But the  name  arheled  is  not  unique  to  me. It is  the  name  of  the  heavenly  sphere,  the  crystal  walls  that  fence  in  the  Worlds,  keep  them  globed  that  they  might  not  be  Void,  that  Matter  might  not  vanish  into  the  nothingness. At an  immeasurable  distance  stands  the  Wall  of  Night. Do you  not  remember  what  I  showed  you? Of the  Ship  of  the  World  and  the  Field  of  Arda?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“No, that  can’t  be,  that’s  not  right.”  said  Lara,  shaking  her head. “Look, Arheled,  you  may  be  some  fantastic  being  from  the  great  beyond,  but  you  can’t  deny  that  the  Sun  does  not  orbit  the  Earth.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “How  many  verses  are  in  the  Song,  Lara?”  said  Arheled.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um…three,  I  think…”  she  trailed  off  as  she  remembered  just  what  the  song  had  said.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There  are  five.”  said  Arheled.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“Arrows gold  as  lightning  smiting  Sun  and  Moon  and  sons;

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Stone and  gas  and  fire  come  to  being  where  none  was

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Stars are  fleeing  outward  leaving  light  and  life  and  love

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Stars fleeing  Herald  and  woe.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">On Temple  Fell,  on  Temple  Fell, ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Let all  who  enter  enter  well, ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">On Temple  Fell,  on  Temple  Fell, ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Let all  who  enter  enter  well! ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Earth is  dark  and  troubled  as  the  Sun  begins  to  fade

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Skies all  full  of  fire  as  the  trees  all  lose  their  shade

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Stars they  are  falling  as  the  Road  calls  all  them  home

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Coming now  back  here  to  die.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">On Temple  Fell,  on  Temple  Fell, ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Let all  who  enter  enter  well, ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">On Temple  Fell,  on  Temple  Fell, ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Let all  who  enter  enter  well!” ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Arheled’s  slow  singing  was  swallowed  by  the  pines,  and  silence  fell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But…I  don’t  understand.”  Lara  said,  almost  in  a  whisper. “What happened?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  Stars  rebelled.”  said  Arheled. “And the  sky  filled  with  warring  stars,  and  the  Sun  and  Moon  broke  their  courses  and  went  to  war  as  Noe  drifted  on  his  ark. And the  Herald  came.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  think  I  see.”  murmered  Lara.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  who  is  the  Herald?”  Travel  said,  perplexed. “And what  did  he  do?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “He  is  the  Herald  of  the  Lord  of  the  Cosmos. He comes  only  when  there  is  need. For evil  deeds  leave  a  stain  upon  matter,  and  if  great  enough  that  stain  can  imperil  the  very  fabric  of  reality  itself. That is  when  the  Herald  comes. With his  arrows  he  shoots  disasters  to  sponge  away  at  the  evil,  and  his  Lord  pours  his  own  power  into  him and  he  then  sounds  his  horn,  and  the  source  of  the  evil  is  blasted  from  the  world.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Are  you  the  Wild  Man  of  Winsted?”  said  Ronnie.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Is  Ulmo  the  same  as  Ossë?”  said  Arheled. “He serves  the  Road,  and  to  me  does  he  bow;  I  sent  him  to  test you,  Ronnie. When you  are  with  the  Weird  Sisters  I  cannot  reach  you. I am  greater  than  they,  but  I  will  not  war  with  those  who  are  not  openly  against  me. So I  sent  the  Wild  Man;  him  they  cannot  stop,  no  more  than  they  can  stop  up  earth  or  stone.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  is  he,  and  what  are  they?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  is  he? He is  Wild. He is  earth,  and  he  is  stone,  and  he  is  many  things. He defends  Temple  Fell. As for  the  Weirds  of  the  Earth…once  they  were  the  slaves  of  Chaos,  but  they  serve  now  none,  and  whose  side  they  stand  with  is  never  sure  to  say.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Who  is  the  Witch  of  Winchester?”  said  Lara.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “She  is  one  of  the  Enemies.”  answered  Arheled. “When you  came  to  this  grove,  you  felt  the  Road,  but  you  felt  something  else  as  well,  did  you  not? You felt  malice. You felt  a  stain  of  darkness. And you  felt  rightly. For this  is  the  First  Altarstone,  and  here  in  many  ages  fools  and  men  of  evil  have  come,  feeling  the  Road  and  offering  foul  sacrifice,  working  necromancy  and  black  magic;  see  the  torment  of  the  trees around  us,  who  remember  them  and  what  they’ve  done. There are  witches  in  Winsted,  my  children. And some  of  them  know  damn  well  whom  they  are  calling.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Arheled  looked  up  at  the  sun,  which  was  slanting  low  into  the  trees  of  the  hemlock  grove. “It is  time  to  be  going.”  he  said. “Daysdeath on  Temple  Fell  is  a  time  of  peril. But first,  tell  me,  Bell,  why  you  did  not  tell  me  where  the  Methodist  church  points.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Well,  it  points  pretty  much  west  by  a  hair  north,  as  well  as  in  the  other  four  directions  of  the  compass  a  hair  off. Nothing we  know  lies  that  way,  unless  it  points  to  Crystal  Lake?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  does  not.”  said  Arheled. “It points  to  something  you  know  not:  the  Waymeet  of  the  Three  Haunts. But that  is  a  quest  for  a  warmer  time  and  cannier  days:  your  first  task  is  to  seek  the  barred  grave  in  the  central  cemetery.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  might  have  known  you’d  give  us  more  riddles.”  muttered  Ronnie.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  Arheled,”  said  Travel,  “I  just  wanted  to  know:  why  did  the  Wild  Man  come  in  1895?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They  woke  him.”  replied  Arheled. “When they  bored  under  this  mountain  in  1894,  they  roused  him. He was  meant  to  defend  the  Fell  from  destruction:  any  threat  to  the  mountain’s  structure,  he  can  counter,  whatever  it  be. He would  have  destroyed  the  tunnellers. But I  was  there  first. I commanded  him. He cannot  refuse  the  Warden  of  the  Road.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  why  a  whole  year  later?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Selectman  Smith  needed  to  see.”  answered  Arheled. “Alas, he  remained  blind.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why  did  you  call  Bell  my  sister?”  said  Forest.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Because  she  is.”  Arheled  said  solemnly. “Bell daughter  of  Light,  daughter  of  Lake;  Forest  son  of  Lake  and  son  of  Light,  sundered  and  forgotten  one  by  the  other  through  the  malice  of  the  Dragon  who  hated  your  family,  and  suspected  you  as  he  suspected  others. Even now  he  does  not  know  just  who  for  sure  I  may  have  called.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Now  that  we  have  spoken  here  on  Temple  Fell,  it  is  time  for  us  to  go  our  seperate  ways. But you  Six  are  brethren,  and  bonded  by  the  Road;  should  you  have  need  of  one  another  you  will  find  yourselves  together. May the  Road  rise  to  meet  you.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  the  wind  be  always  at  your  back.”  they  replied  in  unison. Lara stepped  forward,  so  did  the others,  until  they  stood  in  a  loose  circle  as  people  do  when  holding  a  conversation,  and  Arheled  formed  the  seventh. Slowly they  held  out  their  left  hands  until  their  fingers  met  in  the  center. And the  right  hand  of  Arheled  met  and  joined  their  hands.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  are  the  Children  of  the  Road.”  he  said.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           A  tingle  and  jolt  passed  through  each  of  their  souls,  and  for  one  tremendous  instant  each  felt  the  others  and  their  provinces  like  things  seen  from  the  corners  of  their  eyes;  and  then  Arheled  withdrew  his  hand,  and  crumbled  away  in  an  instant  into  powdery  snow,  and  was  gone  from  their  midst.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Rather  self-consciously  the  Six  withdrew  their  hands  and  stood,  awkwardly,  as  if  waiting  for  someone  to  say  something. Finally Ronnie  said,  “Where  did  you  guys  park?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  I  parked  at  the  Dike.”  said  Lara.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No  kidding? That’s where  we  parked.”  said  Travel. “So your  car  is  the  red  station  wagon?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  it  is.”  said  Lara. “I must  have  gotten  there  just  before  you  did.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We  parked  way  down  by  the  ruin.”  said  Brookke. “By Coe  Avenue.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  then  one  of  us  can  give  you  a  lift!”  Travel  said  pleasantly. “How do  we  get  out  of  here? Ronnie took  me  straight  up  a  cliff  from  Mad  River.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  took  the  road  that  climbs  around  the  other  end.”  said  Lara.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Rattle  Valley  Rd.”  said  Ronnie.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We  came  up  a  pretty  easy  way,  back  there.”  Bell  remarked.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  we’ll  go  your  way  then! Let’s get  moving.”  Ronnie  said,  shivering  a  little. “It seems  to  be  a  lot  colder  now,  and  I  don’t  want  to  be  here  when  the  day  dies.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So  we  weren’t  lying,  then.”  Bell  said  to  Forest  as  they  got  underway.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  this  is  a  group  and  it…” Has  a  grown-up  leader.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  found  the  logging  track  and  the  faint  jeep  trail  leaving  Temple  Fell,  and  all  of  them  felt  enormous  relief  at  leaving  the  Silent  Place  behind. Soon they  were  talking  animatedly  among  each  other  as  they  marched  swiftly  back  along  the  snowy  roads  to  the  great  Dike. They hurried  along  this,  eager  to  be  out  of  the  icy  wind.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  do  you  suppose  he  meant  by  a  central  cemetery?”  Lara  was  saying  to  Travel.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “One  in  the  center  of  Winsted,  I  guess. I know  there’s  two  right  by  Church  Hill,  but  I’d  need  a  map  to  see  which  is  centermost.”  said  Ronnie. “And the  stupid  library  closed  at  2.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Guess  what.”  said  Bell  as  she  pulled  out  the  folded  and  dirty  map  from  her  pocket.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Knew  we  kept  you  around  for  a  reason.”  Ronnie  said. They had  come  to  the  place  where  a  concrete  spillway  interrupted  the  dike,  opening  on  a  great  sloping  gorge  hewn  through  the  hill  for  no  good  reason save  to  get  fill,  curving  down  to  mad  River  Falls. Climbing down  off  the  dike  they  crouched  in  the  lee  of  a  concrete  wall,  poring  over  the  map.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “This  one.”  Ronnie  declared,  tapping  a  dotted  square  near  the  black  box with  a  cross  marking  New  Baptist. “I’m stopping  there  on  the  way  home.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh  no  you  don’t  go  taking  all  the  surprises.”  Travel  said  ferociously. “We’re all  going.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           At  the  car  they  all  traded  phone  numbers  and  addresses,  Travel  and  Brooke  entering  them  into  their  cell  phones,  the  others  making  out  lists  on  torn  bits  of  paper  like  normal  people. Lara had  more  room  in  her  car  so  she gave  Forest,  Brooke  and  Bell  the  ride. Ronnie knew  the  way  (of  course)  so  he  and  Travel  went  foremost. It turned  out  to  be  the  same  cemetery  Bell  and  her  dad  had  walked  through  that  autumn,  guarded  by  the  Ghost  Houses. Old snow  piles  were  still  high  around  the  loop  driveway  and  the  twin  houses. Travel looked  at  the  gaudy  purple  house  but  Cypress’  car  wasn’t  there. They parked  and  clambered  over  the  snow  mounds  to  the  soggy  grass  of  the cemetery. Most of  the  snow  was  gone,  but  under  the  hill  it  was  still  patchy  white.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What’s  a  barred  grave?”  said  Brooke.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “A  grave  plot,  obviously.”  Ronnie  answered. “I know  there’s  two  or  three  family  plots  in  here,  separated  by  iron  bars  and  railings  from  the  common  folk. We check  those  first.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  what  exactly  are  we  looking  for?”  That  was  Lara.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “An  inscription,  an  epitaph,  who  knows.”  Ronnie  answered. “Anything that  seems  important.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  great  maples  and  white  graves  seemed  odd  and  solemn  in  the  cold  afternoon  light. A solemnness  lay  over  this  cemetery;  not  the  fey  non-Christian  sacredness  of  Temple  Fell,  more  a  somber  sort  of  silence. They spoke  in  low  voices.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           There  were  several  areas  separated  by  single  iron  bars  set  in  short  stones. There was  a  square  area  in  the  lower  part  with  a  high  metal  fence  around  it. But everyone’s  eyes  turned  as  if  by  instinct  to  the  double  fenced  plot  at  the  top  of  the  left-hand  avenue  between  the  maples. The smaller  had  a  high  fence  with  hollow  metal  posts  and  elaborate  hooked  bars. The larger  had  a  lower  fence  with  a  pattern  of  collonades. An obelisk  rose  here,  and  a  grey  sarcophagus  of  marble,  far  too  small  to  have  held  a  real  body. Rockwell, the  names  read. Rockwell, Boyd,  on  the  obelisk.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  wasn’t  until  they  walked  in  that  they  saw  the  second  sarcophagus. Bittersweet climbed  in  a  tangle  on  the  fence  between  the  two  plots,  casting  the  smaller  one  into  gloom. Here the  solemnness  was  deeper,  sterner,  less  canny;  but  still  not  at  all  like  Temple  Fell. This other  sarcophagus  was  of  sandstone,  carved  like  an  unfurled  scroll  set  on  its’  face,  so  as  to  leave  bare  a  wide  swatch  of  flat  reddish  stone.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Drawn  slowly  by  it,  Lara bent  over  it  and  studied  the  writing. “Just names  and  death  dates.”  she  said. “What about  the  other  one?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Anything  on  top?”  said  Forest

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  others  all  turned  to  stare  at  it. The stone  was  smooth  and  blank.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “He  might  have  a  point.”  said  Ronnie. “I’ve deciphered  inscriptions  on  graves  which  were  worn  nearly  blank. Sometimes you  can  feel  writing  that  is  too  faint  to  see.”  He  passed  his  hands  slowly  over  the  stone,  lightly,  carefully.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Nothing.”  he  said  glumly. “Let’s look  at  the  marble  one.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  I  felt  almost  certain  something  was  here.”  Bell  was  saying.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  was  still  gazing  at  the  sandstone  scroll. Where the  hands  of  Ronnie  had  passed,  letters  were  sinking  into  the  stone,  curling  italic  letters  like  the  epitaphs  of  gravestones.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Guys,  look.” he  said.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  glanced  over. “Forest,” she  said  gently,  “it’s  blank.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No,  it  isn’t.”  said  Forest.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Ronnie  whirled  around. “Do you  see  something,  Forest?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Where  you  touched  it,  words  are  forming.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  we  cannot  see  them.”  muttered  Ronnie. “Lara, Brooke,  one  of  you  run  to  the  car  and  get  a  pen  and  paper. Forest, tell  us  what  you  see!”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  a  poem.”  said  Forest. “The letters  are  fading  back  up.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Say  them!”  barked  Ronnie.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           In  a  dreamy  tone  Forest  began  to  recite. His small  odd  husky  voice  sounded  distinct,  even  awful,  in  the  grim  silence  of  the  burying  ground  guarded  by  haunted  houses,  like  the  voice  of  one  reading  out  his  doom.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“Seek the  signs  of  the  Hill-fold  Nine! ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Eleven the  cobblestone  bears  a  vine ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">At noon  the  Oak  on  the  Skinless  Slope ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">At one  the  Moveless  none  could  rope ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">At three  is  pale  on  the  woodland’s  eve ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Seven stood  tall  and  prints  did  leave ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Eight from dark  pines  soon  is  culled ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">At Nine  the  old  is  in  writ  bold ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">The tower  turret,  the  midmost  place ''

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Last seek  fish  in  a  buried  case.” ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They’ve  faded  out!”  he  added  in  frustration.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Don’t  worry.”  said  Travel,  holding  out  her cell  phone  as  Lara  panted  up  with  pen  and  paper. “I took  a  video  of  you  saying  it.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  spent  the  next  fifteen  minutes  replaying  the  video  over  and  over  as  Ronnie  transcribed  the  strange  lines. He wrote  it  out  two or  three  times,  until  he  had  three  copies. One he  gave  to  Lara,  one  to  Forest,  and  frowned  over  the  third.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  does  it  mean?”  said  Bell.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So  that’s  apparently  your  superpower  in  action,  Ronnie,  to  uncover  and  reveal.”  remarked  Brooke.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Forest  was  the  one  who  saw  it.”  Ronnie  demurred. “That’s  his superpower.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Nine  Hills.”  said  Forest. “Arheled told  me  there  were  Nine  Hills  in  Winsted.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Of  course.”  said  Ronnie. “Cobblestone. That’s the  summit  of  Cobble  Hill,  behind  the  hospital.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Eleven—noon—one—are  those  the  times  that  we  should  go  there?”  said  Travel.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Clock-hands.”  said  Lara. “It’s obvious. The hills  are  at  such-and-such  o’clock. Incoming! Wallens Hill  at  three  o’clock!”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  had  her  map out. Ronnie seized  it,  spread  it  on  the  stone  and  drew  a  big  clock-face  on  it,  bisected  by  lines  like  a  cut  pie. “You’re dead  on,  Lara.”  he  exclaimed. “Look. Here’s Wallens Hill,  right  in  the  3:00  direction. 11 would  point  to  Cobble  Hill. Noon to  Spencer  Hill. One to  Street  Hill. Let’s see—7:00  is  Pratt  Hill;  Ward’s  must  be  this  low  rise  right  below  it. At 8:00. Nine—that would  have  to be  Pond  Hill.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  I  follow  that,  but  that’s  only  seven  hills.”  Travel  protested.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Ronnie’s  finger  stabbed  the  middle. “Camp Hill  with  Soldier’s  Tower—the  tower  turret—and  Church  Hill  dead  in  center:  the  midmost  place.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  that  makes  nine—but  what’s  fish  in  a…”  Lara’s  voice  died. They all  looked  up. “Through the  Heart  of  the  Fish  and  the  Eye  of  the  Snake…”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Case  Mountain.”  said  Forest. “Arheled mentioned  something  called  Case  Mt. once. Where is  that?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Ronnie’s  finger  came  to  rest  on  a  long  dark  wall  running  south  from  Winsted. “Here.” he  said  heavily. “All this. That’s Case  Mt.”

''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Fish  in  a  buried  case…” ''

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No,  silly,  case  meant  Case  Mt.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Buried.”  muttered  Ronnie. “Buried…All right,  I  think  we’d  better  get  going. I’m starving. How are  we  going  to  do  this? Do you  want  to  go  all  together,  or  each  take  a  seperate  hill?”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  can’t  do  anything  this  week.”  said  Lara. “And probably  not  next  either.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Me  either.”  said  Ronnie. “Maybe Sunday…”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  think  we  should  split  and  just  do  it  whenever.”  said  Brooke.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We  came  in  three  groups  to  Temple  Fell.”  agreed  Ronnie. “But listen,  if  any  of  us  finds  something,  call  the  others  or  send  emails  or  whatnot. We have  to  stay  in  touch.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  headed  back  to  the  cars. Cypress came  out  of  the  purple  house  at  just  that  moment,  and  she  and  Travel  started  chatting,  and  the  others  were  introduced. Lara said  she  could  drop  off  Brooke  and  Bell  at  their  car,  and  then  to  the library  for  Forest’s  bike. Travel was  telling  Cypress  all  about  the  inscription  and  Lara  was  looking  impatient,  so  Ronnie  tapped  Travel  on  the  shoulder. “Oh yes,  we  have  to  be  going. Se ya, Cypress!”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Well,  the  first  meeting  of  the  Children  of  the  Road  is  hereby  adjourned.”  Ronnie  said  whimsically. “May the  Road  rise  to  meet  you.”

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  the  wind  be  always  at  your  back.”  they  chorused. Ronnie drove  off  with  Travel  to  grab  a  bite  at  McDonald’s,  and  Lara  drove  the  others  to   Brooke’s  car.

<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  can  fit  your bike  in  the  back,  Forest.”  said  Lara  when  they  reached  the  library. Forest mumbled  thanks  and  unlocked  it,  and  they  squeezed  it  in  the  back. She drove  him  to  Wintergreen  Island,  a  quiet  drive  as  neither  wanted  to  talk.