Ch. 3: Five for the Five Villages

(Return to Arheled)







       '''                             CHAPTER  THREE '''

'''                               Five  for  the  Five  Villages '''

'''

'''

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<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Bell drove  home  with  her  dad  in  silence. She was  thinking  about  that  odd  boy  Forest  from  the  library. He had  completely  ignored  her  after  she  went  and  made  friends,  but  maybe  that  was  because  he  was  all  wrapped  up  in  what  he  was  Googling. Or maybe  she’d  been  too  friendly. Boys were  shy  like  that  sometimes  if  you  got  too  nice,  and  would  think  you  had  a  crush  on  them  and  run  off. Some boys. Others wanted  to  be  crushed  on. But that  had  been  really  weird  afterwards,  when  she’d  gone  after  Forest  to  say  bye  to  him  and  seen  him  and  that  nice  man  from  St. Joseph’s—Ronnie was  his  name,  wasn’t  it?—staring  at  each  other  like  they’d  seen  each  other’s  ghosts. She had  stopped  dead  in  the  doorway,  and  the  things  they  were  saying  had  frozen  her  to  the  spot,  so  that  both  of  them  were  gone  before  she  even  thought  of  saying  Hi. That Arheled  word  again—only  they  seemed  to  use it  as  the  name  of  a  person—and  the  Road—that’s  right,  Ronnie  knew  about  the  rhyme. She supposed  she  should  think  of  him  as  ''Mr. ''Ronnie, but  he  looked  a  little  too  young  for  that.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Dad, do  you  call  people  in  their  twenties  ‘Mr.’?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> Hunter  Light  glanced  over  at  her,  glad  she  was  talking  again. She’d been  unusually  quiet. “If you’re  under  12,  I  suppose  you  could.”  he  said. “Usually you  don’t  bother  with  the  Mr.  unless  he’s  about  twenty  years  older  than  you…..or  he’s  married…we’re  a  little  informal  with  it  these  days,  although  when  I  was  in  my  teens,  friends  of  my  parents  even  if  they  were  in  their  twenties  or  thirties  I  called  Mr,  Mrs.  If  they  were  my  friends,  say  that  I  met  at  the  beach,  it  was  first-names.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Burrville, where  they  lived,  was  only  five  miles  south  of  Winsted,  but  as  Pinewoods  Rd  was  still  being  repaired  Mr. Light avoided  the  highway  (which  only  had  a  Burrville  exit  at  Pinewood,  unless  you  went  south  out  of  your  way)  and  took  Old  Rt. 8, which  locals  called  either  Still  River  Turnpike  or  Winsted  Rd. It ran  parallel  to  the  divided  highway  and  perhaps  a  quarter  mile  west  of  it,  nearly  level,  and  sandwiched  between  the  abrupt  high  wall  of  some  mountain  or  other  on  the  right  and  an  open  tangled  marsh  on  the  left. The leaves  were  down  and  red  patches  of  winterberry  gleamed  among  the  bronze  and  russet  brown  of  some  bush  too  stubborn  to  give  up  its’  leaves. The broad  curves  of   the  motionless  river  that  wound  through  the  swamp,  called  Still  from  its’  sluggish  current,  were  visible  now  and  then  amid  the  marsh  for  the  first  mile,  but  then  they  came  to  the  sporadic  factories  in  the  flats  where  the  swamps  narrowed,  and  the  river  vanished. It was  grey  scenery,  tangled  and  ever-changing,  brown,  red  and  grey,  and  Bell  loved  it.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “I wish  we  could  take  a  canoe  down  Still  River.”  she  said.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“That’s a  good  idea!”  her  father  said. “Except we  don’t  have  a  canoe,  and  I  don’t  know  how  much  renting  one  would  cost.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “So buy  one.”  she  retorted.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “Do you  have  any  idea  how  much  they  cost,  honeybuttons?!”  her  dad  exclaimed. “You—“

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“You must  think  I’m  made  of  money!”  Bell  said  gleefully  at  the  same  time  as  her  father  said  it. They looked  at  each  other and  laughed.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">They drove  past  the  deserted  Elmbrook  store,  a  sad  and  lonely  sight  amid  the  old  fields,  except  for  the  curious  colors  of  the  two  front  doors. The left  one  was  lime  green-yellow  while  the  other  was  more  a  sea-lime-green. They matched,  somehow. Bell wished  her  dad  would  paint  their  doors  those  colors.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“But Dad  doesn’t  own  our  house,  he  only  rents.”  she  remembered.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Past the  big  quarry  with  all  the  strange  arms  of machinery  and  heaps  of  stone  rubbish  and  dust. Past the  field  with  the  wreckage  of  an  old  sign  Dad  said  was  once  a  drive-in  movie  theater. They slowed  down  and  stopped  at  a  red  light:  Burrville. It was  a  small  village;  there  was  a  liquor  store  with  a  restaurant  next  to  it,  a  package  store  farther  up,  an  ambulance/firehouse,  and  along  a  forsaken  loop  of  former  turnpike  and  some  offshooting  streets  clustered  a  small  suburb  of  close-set  old  houses. At the  light  was  a  crossroads,  where  a  winding  steep  road  plunged  down  from  Burr  Mountain  on  the  right  and  continued  on  the  left. The bike  path  crossed  here,  empty  of  people  in  the  cold  weather. On the  left  just  after  the  light  was  the  Fragale  &  Sons  paving  company  entrance,  which  was  also  the  entrance  to  their  house.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Two detached  houses  stood  back  from  the  paving  company’s  red  barnlike  buildings,  under  spreading  old  trees,  maples  and  white  pines,  their  backs  to  the  woods,  their  yard  fronted  on  one  side  by  the  drive  and  on  the  other  by  the  bike  path. It had  just  been  paved  a  couple  years  ago;  she  remembered  how  excited  she  had  been  by  the construction,  simultaneous  with  being  frightened  of  the  big  rough  men  who  did  the  constructing. She’d stayed  well  away  from  that  side  of  the  yard  during  work  hours. It was  hard  to  remember  what  had  been  there  before;  she  had  memories  of  a  gravel  road  with  puddles  that  her  dad  and  she  had  walked  down  sometimes. Now they  rode  bikes  down  it. The houses  were  dull  blue. They rented  the  one  set  farther  back,  closer  to  the  bike  path. A family of  noisy  kids  lived  upstairs  in  the  other  house,  and  some  of  the  paving  guys  downstairs. Everyone pretty  much  minded  their  own  business,  but  Bell  had  begun  to  dread  the  times  the  little  brats  were  allowed  outside,  They  trashed  her  dolls  or  played  epic  war  stories  with  them,  messed  up  all  her  favorite  nooks  and  usually  got  into  screaming  fights.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Dad parked  and  unlocked  the  front  door. Bell hurried  in,  lugging  books,  while  her  dad  got  the  mail  and  walked  in  behind  her,  leisurely  leafing  through  bills,  catalogs  and  assorted  junk  mail. He never  got  any  letters. Sometimes Bell  got  a  letter  from  one  of  her  friends;  a  few  of  the  people  at  church shared  her  dad’s  aversion  to  home  computers,  and  their  kids  actually  wrote  letters  as  a  result. The others  Facebooked.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hey Dad,  wanna  watch  a  movie?”  she  called.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Oh no,  what  this  time?”  Mr. Light groaned. “I’ve got  to get  supper  ready  sometime,  you  know.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Relax, would  you,  it’s  just  Beauty  and  the  Beast.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Her dad  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  gave  a  pretend  dying  gurgle. It was  one  of  her  favorites. She started  giggling.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Tell you  what,  you  watch  it  with  me  and  then  I’ll  watch  one  of  those  horrid  car-chase  shootup  movies  you  like,  with  you. I’ll even  help  make  supper.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Only if  you  make  noises  every  time  they  use  swear  words.”  her  dad  twitted.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“It’s a  deal. What are  we  having?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Mr. Light opened  cupboard  after  cupboard. “Hey, who’s  been  in  here?”  he  yelled  to  her. “Somebody has  gone  and  misplaced  everything!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hey, they  were  a  disorganized  mess!”  she  protested. “I was  just  arranging  things!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Yeah, now  I  can’t  find  anything. Where did  you  go  with  the  spiral  macaroni?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Um, I  teleported  them  to  the  5th  Dimension.”  she  said  with  a  straight  face.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Well, get  them  out  of  the  5th  Dimension  and  bring  some  cheese  with  you,  or  you  get  no  supper,  young  lady!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“They’re right  here,  you’re  as  blind  as  a  brickbat,  honestly.”  she  said  fondly,  opening  the  bottom  cupboard. “I just  put  all  the pasta  in  the  same  cupboard,  that’s  all.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “Fine, fine.”  he  grumbled,  putting  a  pan  of  water  on  the  stove  to  boil. “Go turn  on  your  movie,  honeybuttons. I’ll be  right  in.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">He didn’t  come  in  until  Belle  had  finished  her first  song  and  Gaston,  who  she  found  intensely  annoying  and  likeable  at  once  (Bell  did,  that  is,  not  Belle),  was  stalking  her  via  rooftop. The smell  of  heating  water  and  steam  drifted  in  from  the  kitchen. He left  again  with  a  yelp  partway  through  upon  suddenly  remembering  the  boiling  water,  and  didn’t  return until,  infallibly,  the  final  battle  of  mob  vs. furniture, where  he  rooted  loudly  for  the  mob. Then they  had  macaroni  with  cheddar  melted  over  it—one  of  her  favorites—and  she  resigned  herself  to  yet  another  Die  Hard  movie,  the  only  good  parts  of  which  were  the  love  scene  and  the  father  vs. daughter dynamic.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“How can  she  possibly  treat  him  that  way?!”  Bell  exclaimed  indignantly.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Oh, I  guess  he  got  annoying  once  too  often.”  her  dad  teased. “Someday I’m  going  to  be  like  that  and  then  you’ll  be  the  one  treating  me  bad.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I will  not,  I  swear,  Dad,”  she  said,  and shut  up  because  Bruce  Willis  had  got  done  beating  up  everyone  in  sight  and  was  saying  something,  and  for  once  she  wanted  to  hear  what  it  was.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Forest was  awake  and  could  not  sleep.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">It was  mild  for  October-end;  the  air  was  warm  and  couldn’t  have  been  under  50°. The moon  wasn’t  shining. They called  it  “new  moon”  when  “gone  moon”  would  be  a  little  more  accurate,  but  he  liked  these  nights. For one  thing,  on  them  the  stars  would  shine  so  clearly  they  seemed  like  jewels  of  fire  studded  in  the  roof  of  the  round  dome  of  heaven. He got  up  and  stared  out  the  window. The oak,  even  though  it  was  nearly  bare,  was  in  the  way. He opened  the  window. If only he  could  sneak  out  and  get  a  really  decent  look  for  once. But Mom  would  hear  for  sure:  the  door  creaked. Taking a  coil  of  clothesline  that  had  been  kicking  around  the  upstairs  for  the  past  year,  he  tied  it  to his  bedpost  and  got  dressed. He stood  at  the  open  window,  breathing  hard,  his  eyes  gleaming  so  bright  they  practically  glowed  in  the  dark. A sense  of  adventure,  of  breaking  out  of  a  comfortable  shell  he  lived  in  most of  his  life,  was  upon  him. Sliding out  he  turned,  got  one  leg  down,  and  facing  the  house  began  to  clamber  down. It was  difficult.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">He left  the  rope  there  and  stood  upon  the  shore  of  the  island,  his  eyes  flaming,  his breath  hard  and  quick. Through the bare  branches,  some  still  with  clusters  of  leaves,  the  stars  glowed  and  glittered;  it  seemed  as  if  the  trees  were  bearing  them  for  fruit. I love  it  when  the  leaves  are  down,  he  thought. Trees bearing  stars  in  place  of  fruit,  trees  growing  the  gems  of  heaven,  trees  that  bore  the  Sun  and  Moon….

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">He stayed  there  for  a  long  time,  gazing  at  the  lake  and  the  stars  gleaming  far  down  inside  it;  stars  of man  these  were,  however,  the  orange  stars  of  the  streetlights  that  circled  the  lake  and  the  white  stars  of  the  houses  of  men. At last  he  decided  he’d  better  go  inside,  but  to  his  horror  his  strength  failed  him  before  he’d  climbed  higher  than  the  sliding  doors;   and  all  the  doors  and windows  were  locked.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“You ought  to  have  unlocked  the  door  or  at  least  had  your  extra  key  on  you  before  you  engaged  in  such  an  adventure,  Forest.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The boy  looked  up  sharply;  odd  that  he  was  not  frightened,  but  he  had  as  it  were  instantly  known  who  it  was. He was  standing  beside  the  bole  of  the  oak,  as  if  he  had  just  stepped  out  of  it;  and  his  coat  was  much  longer  now  and  fell  about  his  ankles,  and  Forest  no  longer  felt  the  cool  night  air. Which was  fortunate  as  the  mildness  was  only  a  ghost  of  itself  and  the  temperature  was  beginning  to  drop.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I had  to  see  better.”  he  said.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“It is  good  for  you  to  see,  Forest,  but  it  is  not  good  to  let  others  know  that  you  see. Come out  often. But plan  when  you  do.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">He half-smiled  in  the  darkness. “What, you  approve  of  kids  sneaking  out  at  night?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“It is  not  the  sneaking  out,  but  why  it  is  done,  that  is  important.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I think  I  see.”  said  Forest.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“You do,  do  you? That is  rare. Most of  you  go  through  life  blind,  unable  to  see  things  properly. You do  not  see  the  green  secrecy  of  woods  or  the  blue  of  the  sky;  you  look  at  the  trees  and  note  the  dappling  of  sundance  on  their  leaves,  but  you  do  not  see  them,  as  they  are  in  their  areness.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">He seemed  no  longer  to  be  speaking  to  Forest;  though  he  stood  on  the  low  island,  he  seemed  to  be  looking  out  from  a  great  height  over  the  nations  of  men. “Now and  then  their  eyes  widen  as  an  especial  beauty  burns  a  hole  in  their  blindness; but  as  they  gaze  their  eyes  fade  and  they  journey  on  and  their  thoughts  wrap  about  them  again  like  a  cloud. It is  as  if  the  children  of  men  walked  through  the  world  in  a  fog  of  their  own  making  and  their  own  generation,  which  conceals  from  their  sight  the  real  seeing  of  Creation: it  is  a  grief  to  us. But now  and  then  is  born  one  for  whom  the  veil  sometimes  parts  and  lifts  aside;  and  then  all  creation  will  make  league  to  destroy  him,  for  he  can  see  them  as  they  are.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Forest said  nothing. The night  and  the  stranger  were  one  and  the  same,  he  was  in  the  darkness  but  he  was  not  of  the  darkness,  and  in  the  rider  of  the  darkness  he  had  no  part.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“What happened  to  the  Trees?”  Forest  queried.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Do you  need  that  answer  spoken,  Forest?”  the  stranger  said  softly.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“After they  died.”  said  Forest. “What happened  then? Where did  the  Stars  go?”  The  bright  ones  all  went,  he  had  meant  to  add.  Why not  the  Stars?

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“They didn’t.”  said  the  stranger,  looking  off  over  the  chill  lake. “They watched. For that  was  their  purpose,  to  watch  and  be  for  signs  and  for  seasons,  for  days  and  for  years;  not  to  intervene,  and  never  to  make  war.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">A cold  shadow  fell  on  Forest  as  he  looked  into  the  stars  and  those  words  fell  on  his ears. He seemed  to  hear  distant  cries,  ancient  wailings;  the  very  gleam  and  twinkle  of  the  eyes  amid  the  heavens  seemed  like  the  brightness  of  the  eyes  of  one  shedding  tears.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“What did  they  do?”  he  asked,  his  voice  faint  as  a  whisper.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“The Stars  rebelled.”  the  stranger  answered,  and  so  cold,  and  sad,  and  dark,  was  his  voice  as  he  spoke  this,  that  Forest  felt  blind,  unutterable  fear  descend  upon  him. The stars  glared  down  upon  him,  their  light  like  frozen  tears. The terrible  words  echoed  and  rebounded  through  and  through  his  head. He scrambled  up  the  ladder  and  through  his  window. It had  grown  increasingly  cold;  frost  flowers  were  creeping  over  the  glass. He fell  into  bed  and  with  his  eyes  wide  open,  into  a  churning  nightmare  of  sleep.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">It wasn’t  till  he  got  home  from  school  the  next  day  that  he  noticed  there  was  no  ladder  leaning  by  his  window.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Mom, I’m  home.”  Brooke  called,  tossing  down  her  book  bag. Nobody answered,  but  she  hadn’t  expected  anyone  to. Mom was  at  work. If Ben  was  home  he  wouldn’t  bother  answering. Dad might—he  was  an  old  sweetie  even  if  he  did  look  like  the  Wild Man  of  Winsted  with  his  grungy  white  hair  and  beard  and  his  ruddy  face;  “like  Clint  Eastwood in  retirement,”  Mom  always  sniffed. He sat  down  in  his  den  half  the  time,  surrounded  by  beer  cans  and  ‘60s  band  instruments  and  a  couple  practically  nude  girls  smiling  from  framed  photos  above  the  battered  horsey  furniture—sofa,  armchair,  small  fridge,  TV  stand—with  Goldies  (as  he  called  the  Golden  Oldies)  playing  on  low  volume  from  the  big  stereo  boxes. The rest  of  the  time  he  was  out  back,  in  the  woods,  piling  sticks  and  cutting  up  and  splitting  logs  for  the  winter’s  fuel. They had  a  single  potbelly  stove  in  the  basement,  but  it  kept  the  house  pretty  warm. “Why don’t  you  switch  to  oil?”  Mom  would  complain. Brooke could  practically  hear  her  saying  it  now. “You’re gonna  throw  out  your  back  one  of  these  days. You should  at  least  get  a  chain  saw!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Then what  would  keep  me  busy?”  he  would  demand  indignantly,  and  Mom  would  throw  her  hands  in  the  air  and  stalk  off,  knowing  he’d  won  the  argument. It usually  took  him  half  the  winter  to  accumulate  the  7  or  8  cords  they  consumed  each  year. He hated  power  tools,  cutting  logs  with  an  ancient  bucksaw  (“Cuts  like  cheese,  he  does”),  an  ax,  and  wedges. But it  did  keep  him  busy.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Brooke went  into  the  kitchen. Her dad  had  brought  in  the  mail—Ben’s  mail,  too,  though  he  used  a  separate  mailbox  and  usually  checked  it  himself. The reason  for  this  was  obvious  at  a  single  glance,  as  several  magazines  of  the  Playboy  variety  met  Brooke’s  eyes. She suspected  her  dad  had  been  perusing  a  few  of  them. Mom saw  nothing  wrong  with  it  but  the  sheer  grossness  of  display  rather  sickened  Brooke. Probably not  coincidental  was  the  fact  that  of  a  family  of  cradle  Methodists,  Brooke  and  sometimes  her  dad  were  the  only  ones  who  went  to  church  at  all.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">She opened  the  fridge  and  was  fixing  a  sandwich  when  her  cell  phone  went  off  in  her  pocket  and  she  had  to  drop  the  mayonnaise-laden  spoon  on  the  cold  cuts  so  she  could  fumble  with  her  phone  before  it  stopped  ringing. It was  a  nice  cute  strawberry-pink  which  no  guy  could  possibly  mistake  for  his  phone,  her  only  reason  for  getting  that  color  at  all. She managed  to  answer  before  the  fourth  ring  (something  of  a  feat)  but  forgot  to  check  the  caller  ID  and  so  had  no  idea  of  who  to  expect.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hey, river-babe.”  drawled  a  deep  voice  in  her  ear.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Oh. Hi. Let’s see,  you’re—Kevin,  right?”  she  said  in  a  rather  jerky  voice,  her  throat  suddenly  feeling  all  tight.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Ha ha,  as  if  you  didn’t know  perfectly  well  who  I  was.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Oh, you  never  know,  a  lot  of  my  other  guy  friends  call  me  a  river  or  a  stream  or  something  when  they’re  trying  to  be  cute.”  she  said,  glad  to  hear  her  voice  coming  out  airy  and  casual.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Come on,  baby-brook,  you  know  I’m  the  only  man  in  your  life.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Don’t be  so  quick  to  assume  things,  boy-o.”  she  said  flirtatiously. It wasn’t  much  like  her,  but  he  needn’t  know  that. Not just  yet  at  any  rate. Not while  things  were  just  getting  started. “A girl  with  my  looks…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Aw geez,  and  I  only  asked  out  at  first  because  you  looked  so  lonely.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“So you’re  saying  my  looks  had  nothing  to  do  with  it?”  she  said  slyly.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “Well,  if  you  want  to  put  it…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Are you  implying  that  I’m  not  pretty?”  Oh,  she  was  enjoying  this.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “What,  why,  where  do  you  get  an  idea  like  that? I never  said  that…of  course  I  think  you’re  pretty,  but  I  just…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">She couldn’t  string  him  along  any  farther. It was  quite  fun  enough  hearing  him  get  flustered  when  usually  he  was  Mr. Smooth and  she  was  the  one  who  got  all  awkward. In any  case  she  was  about  to  die  from  holding  in  laughter. She exploded  into  peals  of  merriment.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“OK, OK,  you’ve  had  your  fun.”  He  sounded  a  bit  put  out. Probably not  used  to  getting  the  tables  turned  on  him.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Chill, dude,  you  just  sounded  so  funny,  I’m  only  teasing  you,  relax.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hmph.” he  pretend-sulked. “Well, maybe  I’ll  forgive  you,  if  you’ll  come  hang  out  this  afternoon….maybe  at  the  movies  or  something…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Is this  a  date?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Why of  course,  Brookie,  what’d  you  think  it  was?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I thought  I  was  being  strung  for  a  loop!”  she  said  triumphantly. “After all,  what  else  do  you  hang  from?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Ha ha. Should I  come  to  your  place?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I don’t  want  you  knowing  where  I  live,  you  stalker.”  She  sobered. “I’ll walk  over  to  the  Grange,  like  we  did  last  time. When you  coming?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“How ‘bout  4:00? That should  give  me  time  to  unwind  and  beef  up  my  male  magnificence…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“You boys  are  all  egomaniacs.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Yeah, and  you  girls  are  hypersensitive.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hey, it’s  called  intuition,  don’t  knock  it.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Ah yes,  you  women  depend  on  it,  do  everything  by  it,  and  it  is  almost  infallibly  wrong. ''

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Kevin was  saying  something  in  her  ear,  but  he  hadn’t  said  that…it  had  been  in  her  head,  but  it  wasn’t  her,  it  had  spoken  to  her. She said  goodbye  rather  distractedly  and  rang  off  (why  they  still  call  it  “hung  up”  when  it  consists  of  pressing  a  button  she  didn’t  know;  force  of  old  habit  most  likely)  and  stood  staring  into  space.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">She should be  delirious. Kevin, the  hottest  guy  in  her  class,  was  dating  her  a  second  time. He seemed  serious. It could  be  the  start  of  a  relationship. Why was  she  so  detached? And where  had  that  silent  voice  come  from?

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">She was  dressed  up  and  ready  when  4:00  came,  and headed  out  the  door  still munching  her  second  sandwich. It wasn’t  a  good  idea  to  be  hungry  on  a  date  when  most  guys  were  often  short  of  pocket  change  and  only  got  you  a  small  meal.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Winchester Center  stood  on  the  crown  of  the  height  above  Winsted,  a  couple  hundred  yards  from  her  house;  the  white  clapboarded  farmhouse  stood  on  the  slope  of  a  great  swelling  rise  of  land,  the  thick  strip  of woods  between  her  yard  and  Boyd  Street  in  the  rear. She walked  up  Chapel  St  to  the  big  intersection  at  the  town  green.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Winchester Center  stands  on  a  great  rolling  highland  of  wonderful  ancient  fields  and  scattered  old  houses. Newfield Rd  comes  up  from  the  south,  bordered  by  towering  maples  of  vast  age,  and  Boyd  St  climbs  up  from  a  mane  of  forests,  bending  so  as  to  come  in  from  the  north,  although  Winsted  at  it’s  other  end  is  actually  NE  of  the  village. Six roads  meet  at  the  double  triangle  of  common  land:  Chapel  and  South  Streets  on  the  east  and  Rt. 263 on  the  west,  clambering  up  steep  hills  and  secret  swamps  from  Goshen. Not far  from  the  green  a  sixth  road  forks  off  this,  dirt  but  paved  white  with  gravel,  north-west  bound:  the  last  remnant  of  the  Colonial  Green  Woods  Turnpike. Around this  intersection  is  Winchester  Center,  an  open  flat  windy  place  amid  great  grassy  fields  with  hedges  of  huge  ancient  maples  and  old  white  buildings:  the  Congregational  church,  the  Grange  hall,  the  old  schoolhouse,  and  houses  that  seem  to  have  been  constructed  before  memory  began,  solid  as  white  rocks.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The Green  was  deserted.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Brooke made  her  way  along  the  main  road  under  the  row  of  ancient  bare  maples,  moaning  in  the  cold  wind  that  roared  intermittently  across  the  high  flatland. She sat  on  the  steps  of  the Grange  hall,  rather  like  a  church  itself  with  its’  big  grooved  columns,  and  huddled  her  arms  close. She hoped  he  wouldn’t  be  long.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Minutes passed  and  stretched  away. And still  she  was  waiting. She got  up  and  stomped  to  warm  her  feet:  open-topped shoes  and  no  socks  was  really  smart  for  this  time  of  year,  she  sneered  at  herself.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">She was  cold. It must  have  been  half  an  hour  already. Slowly she  became  certain  of  what  she  had  known  from  the  start.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">He wasn’t  going  to  come.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">She gave  him  till  4:30,  just  to  be  fair,  and  then,  half  frozen  from  sitting  still,  jumped  up  and  down  a  little  and  stalked  off  toward  home. He knew  where  the  hall  was. If he  tried  pulling  off  some  stupid  excuse,  boy  was  she  going  to  light  into  him.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">She tried  his  number,  but  it  was  busy.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Ringing off  she  checked  her  phone. No missed  calls  or  new  messages. She noticed  the  pile  of  mail  was  still  untouched:  her  brother  Ben  evidently  wasn’t  home. That was  good,  because  she  had  a  movie  from  the  library  she  really  wanted  to  watch. Brooke had  a  secret  vice,  which  her  family  worried  about  the  way  other  parents  worried  about  a  son  reading  porn:  she  liked  fairy  tales  and  fantasy  films. Turning on  the  DVD  player  she  was  soon  happily  absorbed  in  Stardust. Or so  she  told  herself;  mostly  she  just  wanted  to  forget  Kevin.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Her phone  gave  the  odd  “ding”  that  meant  she  had  a  new  message,  and  putting  the  movie  on  pause  with  a  groan  she  dialed  her voice  mail. On the  screen  Her  Dark  Majesty  remained  frozen,  forever  removing  falling-out  hair  from her  head  as  she  thundered  along  in  her  carriage. Sure enough  it  was  Kevin,  giving  some  lame  excuse  about  getting  a  call  and  something  coming  up,  “…so,  anyway,  see  ya  round. Bye.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Probably from  some  chick  he  was  using  to  make  me  jealous.”  she  muttered. Pressing 7  she  listened  with  some  satisfaction  to  the  artificial  female  voice  say  “Message  erased. End of  new  messages.”  She  turned  her  phone  off  savagely.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">When she  had  finished  the  movie  she  felt  a  lot  better. There’s just  something  about  watching  an  evil  prince’s  dead  corpse  puppet-fighting  the  hero  while ghost  princes  root  in  the  background  and  the  witch  gets  blown  up  by  the  Star-girl  shining  too  brightly. She rang  up  Vanessa  with  a  smile:  she  liked  her,  for  all  she  was  a  bit  of  a  cat,  and  felt  she  needed  some  girl  talk.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The phone  rang. And rang. Just as  the  voice  mail  was  cutting  in  Brooke  heard  the  beep  of  someone  answering  it,  and  then  what  sounded  like  the  undead  walking. “Huhh ahhh  ahhh  go-oo-od  morning.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Did you  just  yawn,  or  is  your  house  invaded?”  demanded  Brooke.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Huh? Who is  this? That was  me  yawning,  it’s  not  time  to get  up  yet,  it’s  like  six  in  the  morning.”  It  was  Vanessa,  all  right. She sounded  groggy  but  at  least  human.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“It’s Brooke, you  silly  it’s  like  5  or  6  in  the  evening,  you  sounded  like  a freakin’  zombie.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Uhhhuuuukaaayyy Ahhhhhmm  awake.”  Vanessa  mumbled.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">      “Get  up!”  Brooke  barked.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Wide awake,  Sarge!”  Vanessa  said  fake-cheerily. “Who are  you,  anyway?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">      “I’m  Brooke,  that’s  B--r--double-O--k-with-an-E.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “Brookie!”  Vanessa  squealed. “Hey, soul  sistah! How you  doin’?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">    “Hey  soul  sister,  How  you  dissed  her….”  Brooke  sang,  sending  the  other  into  stitches  at  the  parody.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Sooo, what’s  up?”  she  said  lightly  when  she’d  finished  laughing. Brooke told  her  all  about  Kevin. In vivid  detail. Especially dwelling  on  how  many  pieces  she  wanted  to  cut  him  into. Vanessa gasped  when  she  heard  the  callous  voice  mail. “That’s awful,  girl,  that  is  so  mean. Hey, Delilah  and  I  are  gonna  go  hit  the  street  and  grab  a  bite  and  go  troll  for  boys  in  the  paarrk,  and  you  wanna  coooommme?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Brooke giggled. “The Three  Fatalities  walk  again! But, isn’t  it,  like,  a  little  cold  out  for  that?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hey, that’s  why  they  made  scarves! You gonna  be  in? I’m driving.”  Vanessa  at  17  was  the  only  one  of  the  trio  who  could  drive,  and  she  had  her  own  car.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I’ll be  gazing  mournfully  out  the  window  waiting.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Vanessa pulled  in  about  half  an  hour  later. It was  now  deep  night  and  her  headlights  filled  the  lamplit  room  where  Brooke  was  reading. She left  a  note  on  the  fridge,  not  that  anyone  really  cared,  except  maybe  Dad,  but  she  felt  better  that  way. Pulling on  her  scarf  and  nice  pink  gloves  she  raced  out  the  front  door  and  climbed  in  the  red  Chrysler’s  passenger  door. Delilah strangled  her  from  the  back  seat  and  after  kissing  and  hugging  each  other  as  if  they  hadn’t  met  in  years,  Vanessa  got  under  way. Radio blaring,  Delilah  swaying  in  the  back,  they  rocketed  down  Boyd  St  at  way  too  fast  a  speed. Once or  twice  Vanessa  narrowly  missed  a  corner.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Vannie, are  you  high  or  something?”  said  Brooke.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Nah, but  I’m  really  really  hyped,  girlfriend! You’ll never  guess  what!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“What?” Delilah  and  Brooke  both  demanded  at  once.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“My little  secret,  poo-hoo-hoo.”  and  Vanessa  twisted  up  her  face  in  that  cute  pout  boys  found  themselves  falling  over  each  other  to  kiss.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">They parked  on  Main  over  toward  Glison’s  Cinema  so  they  could  window-shop  and  “troll  for  boys”  as  Vannie  kept  putting  it. It was  absolutely  crazy,  with  all  three  girls  suddenly  breaking  into  gales  of  laughter  for  no  reason  and  catching  side  glances  from  every  boy  and  man  they  passed.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">It must  have  been  around the  Health  Food  Corner  store,  where  Union  St  crosses  Main  and  becomes  Bridge  Street,  when  Brooke  saw  pedaling  toward  them  a  man  in  a  scarf  and  wool  hat  and  coat  who  had  a  long,  hollow-cheeked  face  and  absent  but  intent  dark  eyes. His bike  was  battered  and  dark  green  with  a  bent  basket  on  the  front. Delilah suddenly  said,  “Vannie,  ask  him  if  he’s  your  daddy!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “I  will  not!”  the  gold-haired  beauty  giggled,  going  completely pink.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I’ll pay  you  five  dollars.”  said  Brooke.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'"> “Come  on,  please!”  begged  Deli.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Pretty please?”  cooed  Brooke,  curling  her  face  up  like  a  little  girl.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">  “With  sugar  and  cherries  and  ice  cream  on  top?”  Delilah  added,  looking  even  cuter  than  Brooke.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I love  you  lots—but  no!”  Vanessa  managed  to  say  through  her  laughter.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Come onn!”  Deli  whined  prettily. Brooke brandished  a five-dollar  bill. Vanessa gave  in  and  they  started  across  Main,  where  the  man  in  question  was  already  beginning  to  cross  to  the  other  side  of  Union. He glanced  up  at  them  as  he  passed. Vanessa put  on  the  sweetest  puzzled  look  and  said  as  he  approached,  “Are  you  my  daddy?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The surprise  in  his  expression  made  Brooke  feel  like  she  was  going  to  die  holding  in  her  laughter. “I fail  to  comprehend  your  question.”  he  said,  and  from  the  way  his  folded  mouth  was  twitching  he  was  having  similar  difficulties.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I love  my  daddy!”  Vanessa  blurted,  her  face  tight  with  mirth.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The man  was  abreast  of  them  now. Brooke caught  his  eyes  and  began  to  giggle. “Then who are  you?”  she  managed  to  sputter.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I am  Old  Nuncle  Jimmy.”  the  man  said  with  a  grandiose  bow,  and  pedaled  on,  chuckling. Brooke couldn’t  hold  it  back  any  longer  and  broke  into  hysterical  laughter. All three  started  running  down  the  street,  shrieking  with  merriment. “You owe  me  five  dollars! Pay up! Gimme!” Vanessa  shrieked,  and  Brooke  flapped  the  bill  up  out  of  reach  and  stuck  out  her  tongue,  earning  herself  a  wrestling  match. She surrendered  the  bill  and  they  fell  on  each  other’s  shoulders,  laughing  so  hard  they  felt  ready  to  explode.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Pardon me,  girls,”  said  a  man  coming  toward  them. They were  blocking  the  entire  sidewalk  by  Gilson’s  with  their  antics. Vanessa yelled  at  Brooke,  “I  am  not  going  to  ask  him  if  he’s  my  daddy!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“No, but  perhaps  he  might  ask  something  of  you.”  the  man  said. The girls  only  raced  past  him,  shrieking  with  merriment. Brooke as  she  glanced  back  saw  his  face,  strange  and  wise  with  a  scruff  of  stubble. He seemed  to  be  about  to  say  something  but  then  shook  his  head  and  walked  on,  and  the  smile  on  his  face  was  both  ancient  and  sad. And it  was  only  then  that  she  noticed  he  wore  a  coat  of  brown  leather.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Let’s stop  in  at  the  Flip  ‘N  Grill.”  Vanessa  said  innocently.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“The Flippin’  Grill.”  Delilah  said  instantly,  and  that  sent  them  off  again.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Even worse,  it’s  right  next door  to  the  Wings  ‘n  Things….”  Brooke  began,  but  the  other  girls  both  shouted  with  her,  “The  Wingy  Thingy!!!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">They walked  up  past  St. Joseph’s and  St. James, silent  and  dim  in  the  lamplit  night. Crossing the  street  in the  glare  of  countless  headlights  they  entered  the  little  restaurant  which  bore  such  a  hilarious  name. It used  to  be  Wendy’s,  but  that  had  closed  a  year  ago  and  this  restaurant  had  just  opened. The décor  was  orange  and  brown,  but  Brooke  didn’t  notice  this,  because  the  first  thing  that  happened  was  the  three  cutest  boys  she’d  ever  seen  stood  up  and  started  waving  to  Vanessa. She turned  to  the  others  with  a  gleefully  sly  face. “You better  hope  you  look  nice,  girls,  cause  I  got  you  both  a  date  with  one  of  these  hunks  of  hotness!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Brooke’s mouth  was  falling  open. Delilah’s eyes  got  wide. “OMG OMG  I  love  you  I  love  you! Did you  real-ly? OMG OMG  I  love  you  forever!”  She  was  jumping  up  and  down  and  hugging  Vanessa  at  the  same  time. Brooke was  just  in  shock. After Vanessa  managed  to  pry  Delilah  off  her,  she  whispered  to  Brooke,  “I  fixed  you  up  with  Justin—tall  guy,  blond—he’s  on  the  football  team.”  She  knew  one  of  Brooke’s  deepest  longings  was  to  be  dated  by  a  football  player.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Next she  knew  Brooke  was  squeezing  Vanessa  and  squealing  “OMG  I  heart  you  forever  and  ever  I  will  never  stop  hugging  you!”  Even  in  a  transport  of  joy  she  managed  to  remember  not  to  take  God’s  Name  in  vain,  and  so  used  only  the  initials. Delilah hadn’t. “But how  did  you  do  all  this?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Yeah,” said  Delilah,  shifting  her  head,  “do  you  ahh  mind  telling  us?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hmm, I  don’t  know…”  said  Vanessa,  pushing  back  her  golden  hair.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“You best  be  joking!”  scolded  Brooke.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“''Duh! '' Of course  I  am!”  giggled  Vanessa.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Soo,” Delilah  said  archly,  “what  is  it?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Well, I  kinda  know  Nathan  from  track  and  I  sorta  might  have  mentioned  I  knew  two  gorgeous  girls  just  pining  away  for  loneliness  and  I  sorta  kinda  pushed  some  buttons,  and  so  here  we  all  are!”  There  was  a  distinct  nervous  pause  as  the  girls  began  settling  down  to  reality  and  the  realization  of  three  cute  boys  waiting  for  them.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“So did  I  tell  you  about  that  kid  from  the  island?”  Delilah  was  saying  very  quickly. Everyone seemed  eager  to  put  off  the  actual  going  over  to  meet  their  dates.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“The one  named  Trees  or  something?”  said  Brooke.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Forest, you’re  close,  yeah  he  waits  at  my  bus  stop  and  usually  he’s  the  sort  of  kid  you  don’t  notice  exists  until  he  opens  his  mouth. He says  the  weirdest  things. We were  in  science  class  and  we  had  Mr. Gauter, you  know  the  one  who  never  smiles  and  calls  everyone by  their  last  names,  ‘Miss  Beecher,  would  you  explain  the  chemical  constituents  of  the  sun’s  interior’,  ‘Mr. Lake, perhaps  you  can  tell  the  class  about  the  origin  and  evolution  of  the  solar  system?’  So  I  look  over  and  he’s  pointing  to  that  Forest  kid  and  the  boy’s  got  a  crazy  look  in  his  eyes,  like  he  can’t  see  the  class  because  he’s  staring  at  something  on  the  other  side  of  town. Then he  just  said  in  a  sort  of  quiet,  distant  voice,  ‘That’s  not  how  they  started.’

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Mr. Gauter says,  ‘Indeed,  and  perhaps  you  have  an  alternate  explanation  you  would  like  to  share  with  the  class.’

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Delilah paused.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Yes? And he  says?”  queried  Vanessa.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Delilah went  on  in  a  can-you-believe-this  tone,  “The  Sun  and  Moon  grew  on  trees.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“He said  that?? Oh my  gosh,  that  is  so…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“It was  creepy.”  said  Delilah. “Just the  way  he  said  it. Like how  they  say  in  movies  when  some  horrible  enemy  is  coming,  ‘They  are  here’,  in  that  awful  quiet  voice. It threw  Mr. Gauter for  a  loop,  I  must  say. Why, it  was…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Brooke didn’t  hear  the  rest  of  what  Delilah  was  saying. She didn’t  hear  the  restaurant  noise  around  her. A preposterous  image  of  a  Tree  straddling  the  earth,  swinging  twin  globes  of  fire  from  its’  straining  boughs,  one  large  and  one  small,  the  Sun  and  Moon  growing  on  twigs  before  the  Tree  flung  them  into  the  heavens…

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hey, Deli,  don’t  you  think  the  boys  are  gonna  wonder  what’s  keeping us?”  Vanessa  cut  into  Delilah’s  nervous  chatter. All three  looked  at  each  other  and  giggled. The girls  got  into  motion,  pink-faced  and  starry-eyed,  as  three  grinning  and  rather  bashful  boys  stood  up  to  be  introduced.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Now, honey,  I  know  you’re  old  enough  to  be  out  trick-or-treating  on  your  own,  but  I’d  still  feel  better  if  one  of  your  friends  was  going  along…”  Mrs. Lake chattered  on  as  she  finished  the  last  details  of  Forest’s  costume. He’d insisted  on  a  Lord  of  the  Rings  costume,  finally  settling  on  Legolas. In the  grey  cloak  and  Elf-ranger  outfit,  with  a  handmade  bow  and  cardboard  quiver  and  real  bread  knife  thrust  in  his  belt,  he  did  look  the  part.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I have  no  friends.”  It  wasn’t  bitter,  as  it  would  have  been  from  anyone  who  wasn’t  Forest;  for  him  it  was  a  statement  of  fact.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“You know  Delilah  and  Julian,  don’t  you,  from  down  the  street? From your  bus  stop? I asked  their  moms  to  make  sure  they  waited  for  you.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Thanks, Mom.”  Forest  said  with  a  shy  smile. Knocking on  doors  by  himself  was  more  terrifying  to  him  than  going  through  a  dark  spooky  wood  was  to  a  timid  girl. But he  hadn’t  dared  to  think  of  going  with  the  two  lovely  and  scornful  girls. He only  hoped  they  weren’t  put  out  by  his  presence.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">They were  still  chattering  silly  girl  talk  to  each  other  when  he  opened  the  gate and  walked  up  to  them,  and  not  wanting  to  interrupt,  it  was  a  couple  minutes  before  they  noticed  him.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Oh, Forest! Wondered where  you’d  got  to. Neat Ranger  outfit.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">   “It’s  Legolas;  didn’t  you  see  the  bow?”  he  said.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“So what;  Aragorn  has  a  bow  too.”  said  Julian.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">    “Aragorn’s  cute.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“No way;  Orlando  Bloom  is  the  hottest.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Point. Okay, you  can  tag  along  ‘cause  Mom  insists,  but  don’t  hog  my  candy,  don’t  get  in  my  way,  don’t  talk  because  every  time  you  open  your  mouth  the  weirdest  things  come  out—“

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Will you  be  nice  to  him  for  once  in  your  life,  Deli?”  Julian  broke  in  heatedly. “The poor  kid’s  scared  stiff.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Well, you  are  dressed  as  witches.”  said  Forest.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Both girls  looked  at  each  other  and  burst  into  laughter. “Oh, that’s  a  good  one.”  gasped  Julian. “And you  said  what  comes  out  of  his  mouth…?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“All right,  I  take  it  back.”  giggled  Delilah. “That’s awesome. Remind me  to  use  that  on  Kevin. Did you  hear…he  was  actually  dating  that  pussy  Brooke,  and  Shanessa  was  like  so  jealous  she  called  him  and  they  had  a  fight  which  ended  up  in  her  going  off  with  him,  and  he  just  dropped  Brooke  like  a  hot  potato  on  their  second  date…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Are you  serious??  OMG!” And  so  it  went,  the  two  girls  in  front  gabbing  away  and  Forest  pacing  a  few  steps  behind,  amused  and  disgusted  at  the  same  time  by  the  girly  conversation,  enjoying  the  way  his  cloak  swung  when  he  walked  and  how  it felt  to  carry  weapons.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">So they  worked  their  way  down  the  lake  road,  going  north,  their  candy  bags  steadily  heavier. The air  was  cold  and  frost  hung  in  it,  deepening  as  the  night  sharpened,  and  although  there  was  no  moon  the  stars  gleamed  hard  and  strong  overhead—between  streetlights,  that  is. Never had  Forest  felt  so  annoyed  with  the  orange  monsters. It was  as  if  they  were  sentinels,  guarding  man  from  the  stars.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">They came  at  last  to  the  empty  stretch,  where  the  mountain  came  down  in  great  broken  cliffs  right  to  the  road  upon  their  left,  while  on  their  right  ten  feet  below  (more  now,  with  the  annual  drawdown)  lapped  the  cold  waters  of  the  long  lake. Only one  house  stood  along  this  stretch,  the  Ugly  House,  a  tall  boxlike  monstrosity  of  misplanned  masonry  and  woodwork  and  modern  siding,  far  too  tall  and  far  too  square  to  please  any  sense  of proportion. More than  a  quarter  mile  later  the  homes  began  again,  where  the  mountain  reluctantly drew  back.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Looks like  we  got  to  the  end  of  the  loop,  guys.”  said  Julian. “Unless anyone  wants  to  walk  that  long  dark  creepy  stretch  of  road…”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“That’s odd.”  Forest  murmered. “There’s no  streetlights.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Well, naturally,  there’s  like  no  houses  here!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Hey, I  kinda  remember  a  light  by  that  curve  and  one  by  that  big  dumb  house,  weren’t  there?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“There’s a  light.”  said  Forest.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Both girls  turned  and  looked. Uphill, in  the  dark  laurel,  the  faint  glow  of  windows  shone. And all  of  them  were  pretty  sure  no  house  had  been  there  before.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“There’s steps  right  here.”  said  Julian. “They look  old,  too. How could  we  have  missed  seeing  them?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Be—“ Forest  started,  but  Julian  was  going  on,  “I  didn’t  think  houses    could  fit  here,  I  mean  look  how  steep  the  cliff  is! They’d never  get  building  approval.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Because this  house  is  only  here  tonight, <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">  Forest  had  been  about  to  say. His eyes  shone  and  he  had  a  sudden  soaring  lift  of  heart.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“We should  go  and  trick-or-treat  there.”  giggled  Delilah.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Are you  crazy?? I’m scared  out  of  my  pants  and  I’m  going  to  pee and  I  am  not  going  up  there!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Well, I’m  not  going  up  without  you.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I bet  Forest  is  scared! Forest! I bet  you  wouldn’t  go  up  and  knock  on  that  door! I bet  you’re  scared!”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I am   not  scared.”  said  Forest  softly. Without waiting  for  them  he  mounted  up  the  ancient  steps  of  stone.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">They were  mossed  with  forest  litchen  and  overhung  by  untrimmed  yew. An ancient  metal  pipe  handrail  guided  him,  half  buried  by  yew. He only  had  to  climb  about  ten  feet  to  round  a  great  broken  crag  of  cliff,  and  atop  this,  pressed  against  another  sheer  rise  and  hugged  by  the  great  oaks  and  hemlocks  that  had  grown  here  alone  until  tonight,  was  the  craziest  little  stone  cottage  he  had  ever  seen  among  even  the  insane  shanties  of   the  lakeside. A low  steep  roof  seemed  set  at  three  different  angles. Ill-set windows  crouched  in  arches  of  rough  masonry. Rough-laid stone  formed  the  walls. An ancient  door  of  plank  hung  upon  three  great  barn  hinges,  and  the  door  was  either  painted  black  or  looked  it,  for  the  hinges  stood  out  pale  in  the  darkness  like  silver  bars  across it. The windows  were  curtained  but  light  behind  made  the  yellow  curtains  glow  like  great  square  eyes,  a  window  each  side  of  the  door. Something else  shone  in  the  gloom,  a  knocker  wrought  like  a  leering  face.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Forest lifted  the  clapper  and  let  it  fall.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">At the  sharp  hollow  clack  of  the  knocker,  lights  sprang  into  life,  lining  the eaves,  lining  the  stairs:  small  evil  faces  made  of  glowing  spots  of  light,  eyes  and  nose  and  mouth. It took a moment  for  Forest  to  realize  they  were  jack-o’-lanterns. He bent  to  examine  one  closer  and  received  a  shock.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">They weren’t  pumpkins. They were  turnips  carved  hollow,  a  candle  inside  each.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">      The  door  opened.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">It swung  outward, compelling  him  to  step  back. Chains swung  from  the  inside. Light flowed  out,  an  odd  dim  yellowy  light  from  candles  lit  in  holders. A stuffy  sort  of  smell  came  with  it,  queer  but  sweet,  like  smoke  and  old  dried  herbs. A very  small  but  cosy  room  was  visible  within,  and  on  the  threshold  stood  a  little  old  woman  with  a  bowl  of  handbaked  candies.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“My, you’re  the first  ones  I’ve  had  all  night.”  the  old  woman  chattered. She had  an  agreeably  hideous  face  like  some  old  women  have,  both  comical  and  reassuring. “Come in,  come  in,  I’m  just  getting  the  house  warm  and  I  don’t  want  all  my  nice  heat  to  get  out. Oh, you  brought  friends! How sweet! Come on  up,  my  dears,  I’m  nothing  to  be  scared  of,  I’m  sure.”  Julian  and  Delilah,  giggling  like  lunatics,  hurried  up  the  stairs  and  all  three  squeezed  inside. The old  woman  shut  the  door.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Inside was  very  tidy  for  so  cramped  a  space. A fireplace  was  built  into  the  end  wall  with  a  sink  beside  it. There were  a  couple  of  soft  cushy  chairs  drawn  up  to  it. A bed  filled  the  far  end. In between  was  a  table  and  several  hard  wooden  chairs with  carved  backs. Dried herbs  covered  every  inch  of  ceiling,  hanging  in  bunches  just  overhead. Shelves lined  the  back  wall,  filled  with  jars  and  bottles  of  every  shape  and  size,  their  contents  anywhere  from  dark  to  golden,  even  green  and  orange. A hearth  stood  in  the  middle,  and  a  fire  burned  there  slowly,  sending  thin  wispy  threads  of  fire  up  around  two  logs:  red  and  yellow,  and  even  a  green  or  blue  thread  now  and  then.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Now why  don’t  you  sit  down  for  a  moment  while  I  get  you  some  hot  chocolate.”  the  woman  chunnered  away. She bustled  about,  back  and  forth,  pouring  hot  water  from  a  darling  copper  teakettle  into  three  ancient  mugs  with  peculiar  patterns  in  red.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I don’t  remember  seeing  you  before.”  said  Forest,  not  sitting  down. “Who are  you?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Forest! That’s rude!”  the  girls  exclaimed.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“No, no,  he’s  quite  right  to  ask,  the  fact  is  I  only  just  moved  here. I’m a  witch,  I  suppose;  that  is,  I’m  in  Wicca  and  all  that,  though  I  prefer  more  ‘magic  practitioner’  or  ‘energy  counselor.’”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I think  we’d  better  go,  ma’am.”  said  Forest  in  a  completely  unruffled  voice. “Our folks  expect  us back  pretty  soon.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Spooked you,  did  I?  Oh,  it’s  such  a  pity  there’s  still  so  much  prejudice  and  hostility  out  there  against  us;  you’d  think  we  were  in  the  Middle  Ages  sometimes,  the  way  some  of  them  speak! You two  aren’t  afraid  of  me,  are  you,  dears?”  The  girls  shook  their  heads.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I do  not  hold  communion  with  witches.”  said  Forest.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Oh, it’s  you  that’s  the  stubborn  one,  eh?”  the  old  woman  said,  planting  hands  on  her  hips. “You’ve been bred  on  fairy  tales,  I  suppose,  where  the  witches  come  under  such  absurd  stereotypes  and  are  invariably  evil. Did you  think  we  all  go  about  in  steeple  hats  and  long  striped  stockings,  perhaps? Or that  we  have  green  faces? Do you  see  any  broomsticks,  Forest? Don’t you  think  you  might  be  wrong  on  a  few  other  points?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I did  not  give  you  my  name.”  said  Forest. “You have  no  right  to  use  it.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The old  woman  peered  at  him  sharply. “I see.”  she  said  tartly. “Well, I  do  assure  you  you  are  completely  mistaken  about  us. We don’t  sell  our  souls  to  the  devil. We don’t  go  around  chanting  incantations  and  waving  wands. We soothe  the  troubled  energy  paths  of  the  universe. We encourage  health  and  well-being  through  personal  energy  therapy. Although some  of  us  use  charms  or  amulets  to  focus  positive  healing  charges,  these  are  strictly  ‘white’;  we  don’t  deal  with  ‘black’.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“And what  do  you  call  black?”  Forest  said.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Necromancy.” the  old  woman  whispered. “Hexing. Casting a  curse. We shun  these. Those who  do  them,  we  hunt  them,  we  fight  them. We are  white.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Then what  do  you  want  with  us?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“With you?”  the  old  woman  said. “Oh heavens. As if  I  lured  you  in  here  on  purpose  or  something,  when  you’re  the  one  who  knocked  on  my  door!”  She  bent  a  dark  scowl  on  him. “Which you  did,  didn’t  you?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I was  expecting  someone  else.”  said  Forest.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“True, true,”  the  witch  said,  flapping  one  hand. “Well, I’ll  not  keep  any  more  of  your  time;  as  you’ve  said,  it  is  late  and  your  folks’ll  worry. Was the  hot  chocolate  good,  dearies?”  to  Julian  and  Delilah,  who  were  snoring  over  empty  mugs. They started  awake  at  this  and  the  witch  chuckled. “Off you  get,  my  sleepies! Here, take  as  many  as  you  want;  I’m  not  likely  to  get  any  more  callers  this  late  at  night! Well, Forest—oh,  I  forgot,  you  don’t  want  me  to  use  your  name,  so  prudent  of  you  and  all,  won’t  you  take  something  before  you  go?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“No.” said  Forest.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“That’s very  rude  of  you.”  said  the  old  woman  sternly. “Your mother  obviously  neglected  to  teach  you  manners.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I know  better  than  to  take  gifts  from  a  witch.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“No fear  in  those  eyes.”  the  old  woman  muttered. “Who’s been  getting  at  you,  I  wonder,  boy  with  the  keen  sight? I can’t  do  anything  with  you. Fortunately you  have  no  idea  that  you  are  strong.”  She  seized  his  hand. Her voice  bit  like  ice. “Give this  message  to  your  friend:  the  Door  of  Night  opens.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Let go  of  me  and  let  me  go,  in  the name  of  Arheled.”  said  Forest.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The witch  dropped  his  hand  and  sprang  back  as  if  he’d  gone  red  hot. Suddenly she  seemed  old  beyond  reckoning,  stretched  beyond  her  time,  a  thing  of  skin  and  iron  and  bitter  magic,  cursed by  the  very  powers  she  tried  to  manipulate. He shoved  Julian  and  Delilah  out  the  door  and  slammed  it  behind  him. The turnip  ghosts  on  the  stairs  gave  a  last  malevolent  leer  before  winking  out,  and  Forest  grabbed  the  girls  before  they  could  fall  as  the  stair  vanished  under  him. He knew  without  looking  backward  that  he  would  see  neither  light  nor  house.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Well done,  Forest.”  said  the  man  in  brown  as  they  slipped  and  stumbled  onto  the  street. The girls,  still  groggy,  looked  up  at  him  without  being  alarmed.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I—I did  it  right? We’re safe?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“No one  is  safe,  Forest.”  said  the  strange  man. “Not with  the  Door  open. But yes,  for  tonight  we  are  safe—assuming you  don’t  knock  at  any  more  strange  doors.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I was  expecting  you.”  said  Forest.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“You should  never  ‘expect’  me.”  the  mysterious  man  replied. “I am  not  at  your  beck  and  call. The calling  is  mine  to  do. You were  in  more peril  than  you  have  ever  been,  Forest. She was  here  for  you.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“She’s not  a  ‘white’  witch?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“No witches  are.”  said  the  man  in  brown  leather. “You are  stronger  than  you  know. Had you  even  let  her  use  your  name,  she  would  have  had  you. But you  baffled  her.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“That name.”  said  Forest. “Arheled. “It’s from  a  dream. Ronnie had  it,  too. Why did  she  fear  it?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“It only  worked  because  of  chance  circumstances.”  the  man  in  brown  said  sternly. “Next time,  use  the  Holy  Name;  they  fear  it  more. You can  only  fight  witches  with  religion. That’s one  of  the  reasons  it’s  there.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“What was  she  trying  to  do  to  me?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The stranger’s  face  grew  grim. “It is  too  terrible  to  think  of.”  he  said. “You would  no  longer  have  been  Forest. You would  sneer  at  the  Tree,  for  you  would  no  longer  be  able  to  See. You would  tear  up  your  paintings. The only  paintings  you  would  like  would  be  those  of  unclad  women. Your sneakings  out  at  night  would  no  longer  be  for  reasons  I  approve. Your mother  would  be  relieved,  though  a  little  puzzled. You would,  in  short,  be  just  like  everyone  else. You would  be  completely  normal.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“Oh my  God.”  whispered  Forest. “Who is  she?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“She is  a  witch,”  he  answered,  “and  a  very  old  one. Long ago  she  was  known  as  the  Witch  of  Winchester;  but  that  was  when  she  was  young  and  puny  of  power. Now she  is  old,  and  she  is  one  of  my  great  enemies.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Forest looked  down  at  the  yawning  girls. “Will they  be  all  right?”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“They were  already  in  her  power  when  they  drank  her  brew.”  the  man  in  brown  said  somberly. “I would  wash  it  from  them  if  they  were  not;  but  it  is  too  late  now,  I  cannot  wash  their  hearts,  they  are  hers. No use  would  it  be  to  remove  the  witch’s  candy  from  their  bags:  let  them  become  what  they  desire. Hurry home. Samhain Night is  not  a  canny  time  to   be  abroad,  even  though  the  Great  Hallows  do  their  utmost  to  cleanse  it. Go in  peace. Oh, and  Forest—hold  out  your  bag.”

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Forest did. The man  in  brown  poured  into  it  a  whole  box  of  candy  pumpkins.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“You forgot  to  say  Trick  or  Treat!”  he  smiled.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Lara Midwinter  flipped  the  last  batch  of  paper-thin  hamburgers  into  the  yellow  trays  and  set  the  spatula  down  with  relief  as  she  slid  the  trays  into  the  warmers. There the  guys  on  assembly  line  at  the  salad  bar—as  she  had  sarcastically  termed  the  rows  of  steel  pots  set  into  a  table  and  filled  with  makings—were  methodically  taking  the  paddies  out  and  slapping  them  onto  buns  already  lined  with  mustard,  ketchup,  lettuce,  pickle  and  shredded  onion  (she  called  it  “rice”,  to  the  vast  amusement  of  the  others),  and  sending  them  up  front  neatly  wrapped  in  colored  papers  with  stupid  McDonald’s  characters  all  over  them. They finished  the  last  two  or  three  and  then  came  to  a  stop:  the  endless  line  of  customers  had  eased  at  last  and  they  were  good  to  go  for  a while. There were  a  few  jokes  and  some  flirtatious  remarks  between  Heather  and  James  down  at  the  bun  toaster,  mostly  bad  word  plays  on  toasting  your  buns. Lara had  heard  it  all  before. Right now  she  just  wanted  the  day  to  be  over.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           An  employee  of  McDonald’s—a  McMurderer  as  she  had  once  called  it  to  get  a  laugh  out  of  James—was  supposed  to  be  constantly  busy. While James  and  Heather  were  taking  advantage  of  the  lull  to  chatter  with  Moreen  on  the  other  side  of  assembly,  Lara  took  out  the  broom  and  began  sweeping. Heather had  gone  and  dropped  two  pieces  of  yellow  American  cheese  again,  and  Lara  picked  them  up  to  be  scarfed  when  out  of  view  of  the  cameras  (“The  five-minute  rule”  she  called  it—food  on  the  floor  was  edible  until  it  had  been  there  five  minutes). They wasted  enough  food  to  feed  ten  homeless  men  every  day,  it  seemed,  and  although  Lara  was  able  to  pinch  stuff  like  wrapped  cheeseburgers  thrown  out  for  sitting  a  little  too  long  in  the  front  rack,  the  waste  galled  her  no  end. Comes of  being  homeschooled  on  a  tight  budget,  she  supposed.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           The  clock  seemed  to  have  gone  into  some  sort  of  time  warp  where  the  minutes  never  advanced,  but  at  last  when  Lara  was  washing  dishes  she  realized  the  time  warp  was  ending  and  it  was  nearly  3:00. Just in  time,  too,  because  Brandan  was  washing  dishes  next  to  her  and  using  the  situation  to  hit  on  her  big-time,  as  Heather  would  put  it. She half-liked  him,  she  supposed,  but  she  bore  absolutely  no  interest  in  him  and  his  insistence  was  getting  downright  annoying. I mean,  how  do  you  convey  no  to  a  guy  who  apparently  doesn’t  comprehend  the  word,  without  shouting  it  down  his  throat  and  making  an  enemy  for  life? “Sorry, gotta  run.”  she  said  happily  and  hurried  off,  leaving  the  egg  machine  half-washed  for  him  to  finish,  without  any  compunction.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “But,  Lara,  we  wouldn’t  even  be  on  a  date,  it  would  just  be  us  going  to  the  movies  as  friends…”  his  voice  trailed  after  her  dismally.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Oh,  for  the  love  of  Pete,  shut  up!”  she  snapped  as  she  scooped  up  coat  and  lunchbox  from  the  break  room  and  fled  for  the  front  register  to  log  out. The cold  air  outside  made  her  gasp  with  delight:  it  was  winter  again,  winter  at  last! Halloween was  three  days  ago,  and  the  last  leaves  hung  brown  and  shrivelled  on  oaks  and  beech,  while  most  of  the  trees  behind  the  Winsted  McDonald’s  already  wore  the  clean  grey  bareness  of  winter. Down in  the  little  vale  where  Mad  River  ran,  a  few  big  willows  still  hugged  tattered  cloaks  of  yellow-green  about  them,  and  honeysuckle  bushes  made  a  shadow  of  pale  green  that  only  looked  dismal. The river  slowed  to  a  sedate  crawl  as  it  poured  into  the  Still  River  bottoms,  becoming  deep  and  placid,  lined  with  thorn  bushes  as  it  swung  around  to  join  the  Still. With the  leaves  down  you  could  look  right  into  the  dell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           Getting  into  the  family’s  other  car  on  her  own  was  still  enough  of  a  novelty  to  savor;  she’d  gotten  her  license  only  that  summer  and  the  freedom  was  sweet. Sometimes just  to  change  the  scenery  she  took  different  ways  home  to  Riverton;  today  she  cut  off  North  Main—Rt. 8, she  supposed  she  should  call  it,  as  it  went  north  from  the  end  of  the  divided  highway  by  that  name,  but  she’d  lived  here  all  her  life  and  to  her  it  was  always  N.  Main—and  turned  off  at  the  Still  River  Gorge. A high  bridge  spanned  a  cloven  ravine  some  fifty  feet  deep,  where  the  river  rushed  over  several  small  drops  and  chutes;  on  the  left,  it’s  foundations  rising  out  of  the  gorge,  was  the  old  clock  factory. Don’t ask  me  what  it  is  now,  she  thought,  probably  the GTM  Mifflin  Muffin  Co. or something;  or  maybe  just  turned  into  apartments.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Beyond this  White  St. rose steeply  up  a  long  hill. She loved  how  you  emerged  from  suburban  white  houses  suddenly  onto  an  ancient  back  road,  running  to  the  right  into  a  dead  end  in  lovely  old  farms. She turned  left. This was  Wallens  Hill  Rd,  and  she  was  probably  on  Wallens  Hill  right  now,  if  she  came  to  think  of  it,  with  that  steep  climb. Ronnie was the  one  who  thought  about  stuff  like  what  hills  were  called  and  where  roads  went. She drove  slowly  down  the  old  back-country  road,  along  level  countryland  with  some  fields  and  some  woods  that  in  summer  looked  green  and  deep but  were  now  naked  and  plain  grey  for  winter. She passed  a  rebuilt  new  barn,  rebuilt  in  the  old  Colonial  style,  along  with  a  new  house  also  built  on  antique  lines,  on  a  hillside  near  a  very  old  orchard. It was  a  cheering  sight. Recently built  big  stone  walls  of  lovely  close-laid  masonry  surrounded  it. The hill  descended  and  then  levelled  out  again. There were  houses  here,  too,  incredibly  ancient  houses,  for  this  had  been  one  of  the  two  oldest  settling  places  in  Winsted. Ronnie had  told  her  the  other  one  was  on  the  other  side  of  town,  by  the  head  of  the  long  Highland  Lake. Funny how  she  lived  in  these  parts  all  her  life  and  never  knew  any  of  this,  and  him  in  about  five  months  finds  out  things  she  never  dreamed  of.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Old North  Road  crossed  Wallens  Hill  Rd  at  an  X.  Several  houses  of  such  age  they  looked  pre-historic,  or  pre-Colonial  at  any  rate,  clustered  around  the  roadmeet. A little  farther  Wallens  Hill  Rd  crossed  Rt. 20, the  main  road into  Riverton,  continuing  on  over  odd  green-grey  hills  to  the  ragged  gorge  known  as  Robertville  Falls;  but  that  was  not  her  route. She turned  right  onto  Rt. 20. Here  was  the  fork  in  the  road  with  that  pretty,  lonely  little  house  on  a  mossy  bank  above  it,  and  next  to  it  a  really  ancient  bent  rock  maple,  one  of  the  weirdest  trees  she’d  ever  seen. She had always  fancied  some  little  old  lady  lived  there  (with  a  cat,  of  course),  living  out  her  days  in  sweet  melancholy. Probably not  at  all  the  case.

<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">A long  descent  lay  ahead. Pines fenced  in  the  road  and  a  valley  lay below  on  the  left. Remote and  wild  woodland  for  half  a  mile;  it  always  felt  like  she  was  leaving  the  civilised  lands  behind. Halfway down  was  the  “Europe  House”  that  looked  like  it  was  transplanted  from  some  Swiss  hilltop  into  the  woods  of  Riverton. As always  she  slowed  down  just  to  look  at  it. Huge jutting  eaves  with  carved  supporting  beams,  carved  corbels,  carved  woodwork  balcony  in  a  heart  pattern,  stone  stuccoed  walls,  and  stone walls  with  aqueduct-style  arches  running  beside  the  drive. Rounding the  curve  she  drove  on,  down  the  long  hill  dark  with  pines. Riverton lay  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  vale  between  heights;  the  far  mountain  rose  before  her like  a  wall.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           Then  she  reached  the  bottom  and  entered  Riverton. For some  reason  she  seemed  to  see  it  suddenly  with  new  eyes,  as  if  it  was  her  first  time,  and  the  realization  left  her  amazed. A perfect  pocket  village lay  before  her  around  a  double  crossroad,  deliberately  preserved  and  almost  artificially  kept  up. But it  was  completely  empty. No cars  in  the  parking  lots,  not  even  by  the  General  Store. She looked  at  the  old  Protestant  church  (now  a  glass  museum)  with  its’  stone  walls  and  rook-like  tower;  at  the  antique  store  building  that  still  was  a  store,  at  the  red-and-white  preserved  Hitchcock  Furniture  Works  (now  Riverton  Self  Storage)  with  its’ charming  primitive-factory  appearance,  at  the  real  old  New  England  inn   at  the  second  crossroads—very  beautiful,  and  very  New  England,  and  yet  there  was  that  air  of  artificiality,  like  a  stage  set  or  a  museum  re-creation with  people  hired  to  walk  around  in  period  clothes  and  do  period  things. She wondered  that  she  had  never  noticed  it  before,  and  then  there  recurred  to  her  Chesterton’s  strange  warning  that  it  was  perilous  to  see  a  thing  the  thousandth  time,  for  one  runs  a  frightful  risk of  seeing  it  as  it  truly  is.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           Over  the  bridges  she  drove. Two rivers  meet  at  Riverton;  Sandy  Brook  comes  down  from  Colebrook  and  the  north-west,  flowing  into  the  western  branch  of  the  broad  Farmington  River. This river  travels  a  deep  flat  valley  like  a  rift  between  walls  of  pine-clad  mountains,  running  straight  north  and  south,  until  Pleasant  Valley  some  three  miles  south. Rt. 20 crosses  Sandy  Brook  and  meets  the  road  from  Robertsville  at  a  T,  and  turning  right  at  the  General  Store  one  passes  the  Hitchcock  factory  and  crosses  Farmington  on  a  wide  bridge. Immediately after  the  bridge  is  another  T, where  the  eastern  river  road  comes  up  from  the  south  and  continues  on  north,  and  here  stands  the  large  square  Inn.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">The Midwinters  lived  up  behind  the  Inn,  among  a  delightful  cluster  of  colorful  and  very  old  houses  in  at  least  six  different  styles. The huge  long  white  mansion,  boxlike,  clapboarded  and  square-windowed. The little  red  gabled  house  squished  between  a  more normal  white  house  and  a  bizarre  agglomeration  of  fused  outbuildings  that  made  another  house. The tall  Revolutionary-War-era  white  box  of  a  house  with  perfect  laurel  walks  and  gravel  paths. Then a  neat  square  blue  townhouse  right  behind  and  above  the  Inn,  backed  and  shaded  by  hemlocks  and  oaks. She turned  up  the  narrow  lane  that  curved  left  behind  and  then  above  the  Inn,  with  the  lovely  slate-capped  stone  wall  on  the  passenger  side  she  was  always  afraid  would  scrape  her  mirrors. The road  curved  up  between  the  more  normal  white  house  and  the  square  neat  Colonial  house,  and  the  blue  townhouse. This had  a  narrow  windswept  lawn  with  a  close,  mossed,  windswept  look  to  it. Then the  road  hooked  around  to  the  right  and  charged   up  the  feet  of the  mountain,  and  at  the  curve  a  white  farmhouse  and  two  joined  barns  formed  a  horseshoe. The Midwinters  went  horseback  riding  there. Far up  on  the  prow  of  a high  slope  above  the  neat  laurel-walk  house,  was  a  charming  little  ranch-style  house;  and  that  was  where  she  lived. It was  hell  in  the  winter,  what  with  the  steep  road  and  the  steep  drive. Sometimes the  Midwinters  parked  in  town  when  they  heard  a  storm  was  coming  and  walked  home.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           She  got  out  of  the  car  and  stood  for  a  moment,  glancing  up  at  the  sky. Through the  trees  of  the  hill  she’d  descended  on  the  way  in,  the  sun  glanced  for  a  moment,  chill  and  wintery. Clouds made  the  heaven  a  sad  gray;  there  would  be  no  stars  tonight.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Empty  heavens  filling  till  the  night  is  spangled  day…” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           It  seemed  to  be  the  wind,  the  cold  wind  soughing  in  the  hemlock  forest  rising  behind  her  house;  but  winds  do  not  speak,  and  winds  do  not  have  words. Had she  perhaps  spoken  them,  she  wondered,  for  they  seemed  to  fit  some  deep  chord  within  her,  sad,  haunted,  like  the  shard  of  melody  of  a  half-forgotten  song. But the  wind  died,  and  the  cold  air  fell  soundless  around  her,  and  the  song  did  not  come  again.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           Lara  turned  and  headed  inside.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Lara! Lara’s home!”  bawled  Dominic,  running  up  to  hug  her. She laughed  and  planted  a  kiss  on  his  head  as  he  pounded  off  again. The aroma  of  venison  filled  the  air:  Dad  had  rescued  a  roadkill  deer  the  other  day  and  their  freezer  was  stuffed  with  various  deer  cuts. By the  mustardy  tang  Mom  was  making  deer  steak  tonight,  and  Lara’s  stomach  rumbled.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Hey,  Lara.”  said  Mr. Midwinter absently. He was  bent  over  a  cabinet  door  he  was  trying  to  rehinge,  and  as  Lara  moved  around  him  he  got  up  and  scuttled  over  to  where  he’d  been  doing  something  else  he  forgot  about,  leaving  the  cabinet  door  wide  open  for  Lye  to  trip  over,  which  of  course  she  did  and  nearly  dropped  the  baby. Oblivious of  this  Mr. Midwinter forgot  about  whatever  other  task  he  was  doing  and  scurried  back  to  finish  the  cabinet  door. He had  a  balding  head,  short-shaved  hair,  glasses  and  an  odd  hesitant  manner,  more  conservative  than  timid.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Hey,  Mr. Mouse.” smiled  Lara. Her jaw  dropped  as  she  realized  what  she’d  said. Lye put  her  free  hand  over  her  mouth  and  both  girls  howled  with  laughter.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “He  does  act  kind  of  like  a  mouse  in  a  cage.”  Lilac  observed  tartly. “Bddddtttttt—bdddddddttttttt—“

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Back  and  forth,  back  and  forth…”  Lara  added. Both sisters  dissolved  into  laughter.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “How  was  your  day?”  said  Lye,  bouncing  Summer.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “What  do  you  think.”  Lara  said  wearily. “That Brandan  makes  me  so  mad  I  want  to  just  sock  him  one.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Why  don’t  you? He might  actually  get  the  message.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Oh,  be  serious. I’d lose  my  job  at  the  very  least.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Yeah,  but  you’d  go  out  with  a  bang.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “What  are  we  having  for  dinner?”  Lara  changed  the  subject. “I hope  it’s  not  hamburgers. If I  have  to  smell  or  taste  another  hamburger  I’m  going  to  explode. Or throw  up. Or remain  undecided.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Like  Dad  when  he  votes,  you  mean? You’re in  luck. Mom wants  to  use  up  some  venison.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Only  for  about  the  fourth  straight  day  in  a  row.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Don’t  tell  me,  if  you  see  another  venison  steak…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Not  quite  that  bad.”  Lara  laughed. She actually  did  feel  better. Joking with  her  blunt  sister  always  helped.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Lye,  do  you  ever,  um, think  about  stars?”  Lara  said  all  of  a  sudden.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Stars?”  Lilac  said,  managing  to  look  both  puzzled  and  wary  at  once. “Oh no. Don’t tell  me. You had  another  of  your  poetry  flashes  about  stars.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Not  really,  I  just  sort  of  heard  this  fragment  of  a  song  on  the  wind,  and  it’s  ringing  in  my  head. I just  wondered  if  it  happens  to  you.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Nope.”  said  Lilac  dismissively. “Nip. Noop. Nada. You’re the  only  one  nutty  about  stars. I’m so  glad  we’re  not in  the  same  room anymore.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “You’re  mean. I bet  you  miss  our  crazy  story  sessions  and  those  pillow  fights.”  Lara  said  sweetly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           “Pillow  fights  are  for  boys.”  Lye  sniffed. The two  sisters  stared  at  each  other  for  a  moment  and  burst  into  giggles  again.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           It  wasn’t  until she  was  in  her  room  for  the  night  that  the  queer  words  on  the  wind  returned  to  Lara. She closed  the  old  door  into  the  upstairs  hall  and  turned  off  the  light. The clouds  had  broken and  the  night  sky  gleamed  through  the  bare  oak  branches,  the  stars  bright  and  fierce  as  they  seldom  were  in  summer. Lara leaned  her  elbows  on  the  worn  sill;  it  creaked  but  she  didn’t  notice. The ‘50s-era radiator  clattered  and  wheezed  as  the  hot  water  heater  cut  in. Lara edged  away  from  the  warmth. Something in  her,  something  about  her  reached  out  to  the  cold,  embracing  it,  absorbing  it;  even  though  her  human  flesh  soon  began  to  remind  her  that  it  needed  warmth  even  if  she  didn’t. Shivering would  set  in  in  a  moment,  she  supposed,  but  for  now  she  was  cold,  she  was  the  cold,  the  delicious  cold  like  melted  snow  that  crept  all  through  her,  and  in  that  beautiful  moment  between  growing  cold  and  shivering,  she  exulted  in  it,  a  woman  of  ice,  a  snowmaiden.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           She  wrapped  herself  up  before  shivers  could  begin  and  warmed  her  fingers  and  hands,  then looked  out  of  the  window  again  and  up  to  the  stars. Cold white  eyes,  cold  white  fire,  swords  of  distant  frozen  light. They seemed  to  call,  they  seemed  to  speak  to  her,  to  Lara  Midwinter,  and  she  heard  them  in  her  heart  like  voices  of  glass,  like  the  sound  paper-thin  ice  on  a  lake  makes  when  you  skim  a  rock  across  it,  that  shivering  tingling  liquid  crinkle…

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           Empty  heavens  filling  till  the  night  is  spangled  day ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           Stars  so  close  and banded  as  to  drive  the  dark  away, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           Stars  swirl-warring  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: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">           It  died,  as  it  had  before. As if  a  song  already  started  had  receded  before  it  ended,  or  as  if  she  had  eavesdropped  on  a  snatch  of  song  caught  out  of  the  ancient  heavens,  sung  by  one  sad  wanderer  from  that  day  as  he  passed  amid  a  world  that  forgot  the  stars  exist,  left  behind  from  another  time. She longed  to  hear  it,  to  hear  the  full  song,  but  like  the  true  meaning  of  her  name  she  knew  it  would  come  to  her  only  in  its’  own  time  and  not  hers. Heaviness came  over  her  eyes. She dressed  for  bed  in  a  sleepy  daze,  pulled  the  quilt  close  about  her  and  passed  into  slumber.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'">